Identity Politics - Living in Community

 I'm in my thinking/feeling space on this and am open to thoughts:

There are two issues that I've somewhat conflated here. Generally speaking it's the relationship of a minority v. a majority. Part of what I'm thinking about is how we behave and interact as a diverse society. The other is how we behave and interact as a religious community (specifically Quaker).

It hasn't risen to the level of ministry. That is to say, while this is stirring in me, I haven't been given the words or clarity to share this in meeting. I'm particularly concerned about how we identify. Identity politics is is a Thing. Both the left and the right use it. Since I'm not a on the Right, I don't know the prescription for how they use identity to divide. I'm more concerned with my own camp. First, let me say that I believe I wouldn't have put so much emphasis on being gay if the straight world hadn't singled out me and those like me . It's because I was told explicitly and implicitly growing up in East Tennessee that I was an outsider, that people preferred to see me outcast, that I was degenerate, deviant, evil, unacceptable in the eyes of the Lord (and so on), that I was forced to focus so much on an aspect of my life that should be as inconsequential to me as being straight is to a heterosexual. My hyperfocus on my sexuality was due in large part to everyone else's attention to that aspect of me. I also had to defend my identity as male. When I grew up "no real man" was gay. toxic masculinity and internalized #homophobia shaped how I saw myself a man. I experienced real trauma directly and indirectly related to being gay (bullying, my late partner's parents trying to get his grave dug up, for example). I know "trauma" is over used these days, but it's appropriate here. I fought hard to convince myself and others that I was "just as man an 'he' is."

However, as a white guy, I am part of a shrinking racial majority, but a majority nonetheless. Growing up, my sensibilities and cultural perspectives were the dominant expression on TV and in mainstream print media. There were Blacks and Asians at my school, but not many. Whiteness was the norm. White supremacy (both in the systemic but also the KKK way) was dominant in my culture, though my parents tried to shield us from the harsher aspects of white racism and didn't put up with overt racism in our home.

So I get why white, straight Christian people are resistant to hearing about the plight of marginalized groups. If one has no experience being marginalized, and one hasn't looked to see how one has participated in or benefitted from that marginalization, one may be blind to the dynamics I explained above. Also, no one wants to look at how they participate in oppressive structures. That feeling of realization isn't pleasant. Not everyone wants to share. Many have religious views that support their prejudice.

I think it's unavoidable in today's rapidly changing demographic for me not to focus on what it means to be white, gay, neurodivergent, politically and socially left/libertarian. There are so many people out there who experience the world differently from me, unless I operate in a bubble, I'm invited to see how people live, think and believe differently from me. That doesn't threaten me. When I have felt resistance, I often later realize that some part of my privilege or sense of right order was challenged. Usually, upon examination, my sense of entitlement is what's really bothered. Sometimes my sense of being safe, of being respected, or being valued is threatened.

Right now we have a number of states allowing for the Ten Commandments to be displayed in public places such as City Halls and schools. It doesn't bother me in and of itself, it's the Christian Nationalist sentiment behind it that bothers me. Still, I don't see a problem with it if other religions and philosophical groups are granted equal access. I remember a conversation I had with an Orthodox Jewish Spanish teacher who was next door to my classroom at Walbrook High in Baltimore City. He grew up in Montréal. I asked him what it was like to grow up there as an Orthodox Jew. He said to me something that made a huge impact: He explained that he had no expectations that Christians would stop their public traditions because he was Jewish. He did not object to manger scenes at Christmas, of Carnaval being celebrated before Lent, of Catholic institutions being considered an integral part of Québécois patrimony. He really didn't care what the dominant culture thought about his faith tradition. What was important that equal protection and access under the law. His right to practice Judaism, to dress the way he wanted, to vote the way he wanted, to attend the schools he wanted were the same rights that the majority had. So for those who say "You cant display your religious icons in public because I'm an atheist," then lobby to have a shrine of reason put up at City Hall.

Then there's another sort of identity politics that of coming from a place of pain or of being harmed, and instead of seeking a safe place to heal, expecting people to cater to and enable brokenness without the desire for restoration or recovery. This is especially true in religious communities.

At a community gatherings and church gatherings  I have heard things like:

• "You can't cook meat because I'm offended by the smell." (It's a potluck—don’t eat it if you don’t like it.)

• "I have all these food sensitivities; there’s nothing here for me." (Bring your own food.)

• "I can't do XYZ, so you can't/must do ABC."

• "Christianity and God talk offend me, even though I’m in a Quaker meeting." (Isn’t this the wrong space for that complaint?)

On one hand, I absolutely believe in caring for the vulnerable among us—"the least of these." We should show compassion, offer reasonable accommodations, and create space for people to heal from real pain. That’s core to many faith traditions, including my own.

But on the other hand, should the majority always be expected to tiptoe around the minority? Should longstanding traditions, language, and customs shift entirely because someone new is uncomfortable? Especially in a church setting, where people come to be healed—not to be defined by their wounds or to require others to change everything to accommodate them.

There has to be a healthy middle ground. Respect doesn’t mean relinquishing identity. Inclusion doesn’t mean erasure.

Paul’s words come to mind: “If food causes my brother to stumble, I’ll never eat meat again” (1 Corinthians 8:13). There’s wisdom there—when it’s truly about love and mutual care. But that verse assumes relationship, humility, and reciprocity—not just one-sided demands.

So where's the balance? How do we honor people’s needs without losing our own shape in the process?

The Tempter comes in our hurts, habits and hang ups. The Quaker message is not to pay attention to it, but to turn to the Light. When in darkness, when hurting, stuck in a hurt, habit or hung up about something, we can get so caught up in it that it comes to define us. Jesus was sent to preach the good news to poor people (Luke 4:18) and he told us to do as he did. Do we want to be healed or at least come to peace with what ails us? Do we want grace to overcome that which separates us? Or do we want to be caught up in it?

How can we be an inclusive community without the tyranny and manipulation of majority v. minority? How can we know our place in our communities as equals, even if as minorities? How can we who find ourselves in the majority not push ourselves on the minority while celebrating our traditions or practices? How can we feel heard or seen without using aspects of us to get that attention?

This gets hard when it comes to current social issues, but I think there is a way forward to be found. Not everyone will be happy all of the time, but in all of this where is civility? If we can't talk to one another, if we can't get beyond our pain to a place of healing, how do we grow as a diverse society? Everything fails when we fight. United we stand, divided we fall.

I don't expect Christians to take down the 10 commandments or to stop putting up Christmas trees. I don't expect Evangelicals to stop trying to convince me their way of believing is the right way. I don't expect everyone to accept me as a gay man. I don't expect everyone to like me. I don't even expect respect though it would be nice. What I do want is safety and the same rights as everyone else. As far as my HHH's go, I've come to realize I do not want to be defined by them. I do appreciate my Quaker and professional communities who have walked that tight rope to support me when hurting and down, but not to cosign it. What I don't want is for each aspect of what makes me me to become the focal point of my life because someone is coming after me because of them. I don't want to be solely defined by my short comings, character defects, or my illnesses either. Instead, look for that of God in me, see me as a complex man with conflicting traits and aspects. See me as someone growing in the Light, who, because of, or in spite of what makes me me, is worthy of the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness with the God of my understanding.

I have some queries to consider:

Community Dynamics: How does the prevalence of identity politics influence the sense of belonging and cohesion within local communities, and what strategies can foster inclusivity amidst diverse identities?

Intersectional Community Building: How can an understanding of intersectionality enhance efforts to build resilient and supportive communities that honor and uplift the diverse identities of their members?

Power Dynamics and Manipulation: In what ways do individuals or groups exploit identity politics narratives to manipulate public opinion, sow division, or consolidate power within communities, and what safeguards can be implemented to mitigate such manipulation while preserving freedom of expression?  In what ways do I use my identity to reinforce my sense of entitlement or want of security?

Future of Inclusive Communities: How might proactive engagement with identity politics contribute to the development of more inclusive and empathetic communities in the future, and what role can education and dialogue play in fostering understanding and unity amidst differences?