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In December 2023, that Catholic priests may bless same-sex unions鈥攁s long as they do not resemble marriage.

Despite a radical shift, the declaration notes Church doctrine 鈥渞emains firm鈥� on its definition of holy matrimony as the exclusive province of heterosexuals. One month prior, that transgender people can be baptized.

Though inclusive steps forward at first glance, both announcements sidestepped any tangible commitment to LGBTQ people. The documents were stereotypically vague: Both blessings and baptisms are permitted only if they carry no risk of public 鈥渟candal鈥� or 鈥渄isorientation鈥� among the faithful, terms that are not defined in the documents.

In short, the Vatican鈥檚 鈥減rogressive鈥� moves perpetuate a long-standing trend within Christianity, where LGBTQ Christians are expected to be grateful for the table scraps of a well-fed faith鈥攐r at least feel sated with the rancid 鈥渉ate the sin, love the sinner鈥� ethos popular across Christian denominations.

鈥淚t鈥檚 no question that religion globally has been used as a weapon, especially against LGBTQIA persons,鈥� says teaching pastor and theologian , Ph.D. 鈥淏ut religion actually is rooted in the practice of re-connection or binding together. The Latin root for the English word religion is religio,鈥� a noun referring to an obligation, bond, or reverence.

And there is no shortage of LGBTQ people of faith. at the University of California, Los Angeles, found that nearly half the country鈥檚 LGBTQ population鈥�5.3 million people鈥攕elf-identified as a person of faith.

So can queer people still hungry for spiritual connection鈥攅specially those who revere Christian traditions鈥攆ind religious communities that recognize queerness as a blessing, rather than a sin? An emerging group of queer and trans faith leaders, activists, on-the-ground organizers, and people who simply refuse to give up their faith are already answering that call, carving out affirming faith traditions, building tools to remediate religious harm, and proving that it鈥檚 possible to build a queer church.

Sanctified Discrimination

For many LGBTQ people, disconnection is a defining element of their faith, with a third of religious LGBTQ adults reporting conflicts between their faith and identity in a . Many experience rejection for the first time via their faith communities, or at least learn that their identities are inherently dirty or impure. have undergone conversion therapy in the United States, a practice involving forcibly 鈥渃hanging鈥� someone鈥檚 gender or sexual identity. Though widely discredited鈥攁nd illegal to subject minors to in 鈥攃onversion therapy is still used in some religious settings. According to research from , 81% of people who underwent conversion therapy did so at the hands of a religious leader.

Even for those who escaped the direct impacts of religious trauma, current U.S. politics are deeply intertwined with weaponized Christianity, making it nearly impossible to emerge unharmed as an LGBTQ person鈥攑ersonally, politically, or spiritually. The Republican party, which has , is increasingly overt in its embrace of Christian nationalism鈥攖he belief that the U.S. should be a strictly Christian country. by the Public Religion Research Institute and the Brookings Institution, more than half of self-identified Republicans currently sympathize with or explicitly adhere to Christian nationalism.

Christian nationalism goes beyond the desire to create a Christian theocracy. It鈥檚 about creating a country where certain people are privileged and others鈥擫GBTQ people, people of color, and those seeking reproductive freedom鈥攁re punished. 鈥淲hen we say Christian nationalism, it鈥檚 white Christian nationalism,鈥� says , director of field and organizing at , a religious freedom and civil rights advocacy network. 鈥淚t鈥檚 white Protestant Christians that are being elevated.鈥� 

That exclusionary ethos can be found throughout the modern Republican party, which is, not coincidentally, the beating heart behind much of the anti-LGBTQ legislation currently circulating. In 2023, more than 525 anti-LGBTQ bills were introduced nationwide, more than any other year on record, according to . Those bills included the implementation of Florida鈥檚 high-profile 鈥溾�� policy, which restricts classroom discussions about sexuality and gender identity in public schools. have emerged since the Florida Board of Education approved the initial policy in 2022. 

Florida, North Dakota, Missouri, Tennessee, and North Carolina all have restrictions on gender-affirming health care for minors, and are currently targeting gender-affirming health care for both minors and adults. Meanwhile, (ADF), a shadowy, right-wing legal organization, is using its deep pockets, allegiance to Christian nationalism, and wide reach to roll back civil rights in the courts. ADF is the legal powerhouse behind lightning-rod Supreme Court cases such as , where a self-proclaimed Christian website designer won the right to refuse to serve same-sex couples, in defiance of Colorado鈥檚 nondiscrimination law, as well as the Taken together, these attacks target the rights and dignities of queer, and especially trans, people on all fronts: restricting access to health care, public spaces like bathrooms, and education.

This discrimination is often legitimized through the guise of Christian morality and language. In practice, this frequently looks like portraying LGBTQ people, and progressive values more generally, as a threat to a Christian way of life. At the 2022 Conservative Political Action Conference, former president Donald Trump told the audience: 鈥淪chool prayer is banned, but drag shows are allowed to permeate the whole place. You can鈥檛 teach the Bible, but you can teach children that America is evil and that men are able to get pregnant.鈥�

Meanwhile, Florida governor and 2024 presidential hopeful Ron DeSantis used the words of Jesus Christ to woo potential voters and call for a 鈥渨ar on woke鈥濃�攐r more accurately, a war on LGBTQ rights, diversity and equity initiatives, reproductive and voting rights, critical race theory, and education. While speaking to a group of roughly 10,000 evangelical college students in April 2023, said, 鈥淵es, the truth will set you free. Because woke represents a war on truth, we must wage a war on woke.鈥�

As these right-wing politicians demonstrate, 鈥淐hristian nationalism is a political ideology,鈥� says Interfaith Alliance鈥檚 O鈥橪eary. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not a religious tradition.鈥� But the conflation of the two mean that many queer and trans folks feel exiled from their faith. A truly affirming church must do more than skirt extremism or offer conditional shelter for LGBTQ people. It must imagine a God, a faith, and a tradition that engages directly with justice and queerness.

Sacred and Strange

Rev. Naomi Washington-Leapheart, a Christian minister, movement organizer, and professor of theology and religious studies at Villanova University and Harvard Divinity School, reasons that a God who disregards the most vulnerable in service of the most powerful is not a God who will inspire a congregation to change a world that already reproduces cycles of dominance and dispossession. 鈥淎n affirming, radically hospitable, justice-oriented congregation has to reject an idea of God that reinforces the very thing that causes exclusion and non-affirmation and injustice in our world,鈥� Rev. Naomi says. 鈥淭he conceptualization of God in an affirming, justice-seeking space has to be, first of all, radically inclusive.鈥�

The Rev. M Jade Kaiser envisions God, and spiritual life more broadly, as something literally of the flesh: bodily, pleasure oriented, and inseparable from material liberation. In 2017,  Rev. Kaiser and Rev. Anna Blaedel co-founded , a spiritual community that publishes resources for collective liberation, including queer liturgies, a podcast on trans spirituality, and poems and anthologies exploring ritual, blessings, and identity.

鈥淥ur greatest gifts to the world will not come through acceptance from dominant systems or those constructions of 鈥楪od,鈥� but in recognizing how sacred it is to be strange,鈥� says Rev. Kaiser. 鈥淭here is so much God in how we create chosen family, love queerly, resist compulsory gendering, and collectively organize with pride that counters shame.鈥� 

Sacred texts and traditions, too, are ripe for reconceptualization. Theologian Espinoza, for instance, believes creating radically inclusive faith practices requires more than just reconciling a faith tradition with sexuality. It also invites us to identify where these traditions are already queer via destabilized, counter-hegemonic, and counter-normative narratives. 鈥淨ueerness is wild and feral,鈥� says Espinoza. 鈥淸It] is an undomesticable animal that we have not yet been able to contain or domesticate out of the tradition.鈥�

Traditions like communion, for example, have the potential for queerness, Espinoza explains. Christians all over the world consume the actual or symbolic body and blood of Christ, and in so doing, engage with the (trans)formative potential of the body. Recently, one of Espinoza鈥檚 students risked their clergy credentials by serving communion in drag. 鈥淭he student embodied God by feeding people bread and wine in drag,鈥� Espinoza recounts. 鈥淸It was] a wonderful reminder that we are bound by our materiality, but when we imagine another possible world, shit gets real!鈥�

For others, revisiting religious texts also means questioning鈥攁nd reimagining鈥攚hat is considered sacred. For , a healing arts practitioner and counseling psychologist raised in a Black Baptist church in Illinois, exploring their connection to faith meant finding truth in alternative systems and spiritual homes. 鈥淔or me, that path led to Black feminism, justice and liberation spaces, and a deep connection with nature,鈥� says Mosley. 鈥淭hese spiritual homes resonate more closely with who I am, the realities of the world today, and who I aspire to be.鈥� Recently, Mosley used Black feminist writings as sacred texts during a Sunday service at NorthStar Church of the Arts in Durham, North Carolina.

Some spaces imagine spirituality outside of specific religious affiliation or institutions altogether. At , a grief and healing sanctuary for Black, Indigenous, and other students of color at Harvard, the point isn鈥檛 to emulate or become a religious institution. Instead, co-founder , a pastor鈥檚 kid who is now an ex-evangelical, says The Greenhouse fosters spiritual leadership and moral boldness for those who are barred from, or simply uninterested in, traditional religious authority.

鈥淭he Greenhouse invites us to access emotional safety, wonder, and belonging outside of religious institutions,鈥� says Lee. 鈥淎t the foundational level, it is a refuge of tenderness, laughter, and meaningful silence.鈥� The community meets twice monthly and offers dinner, ritualized reflection, grounding exercises, and emotional release. Like Mosley and Espinoza, Lee makes spaces for queer and trans interpretations of Christianity, while also incorporating new sacred texts and traditions. They鈥檝e taught trans spirituality and shape-shifting bodily presentations in their Christian classes and preached with Audre Lorde鈥檚 1978 essay 鈥溾��

Taken together, these three tools鈥攖he reconceptualization of God, the queering of sacred texts and traditions, and the incorporation of alternate practices鈥攆orm a sort of holy trinity on which a queer church may thrive. And much like queerness, this church, this connection with the divine, can happen anywhere: on a subway ride, in the pews, in passionate debate with your pastor. It may happen with music, in the silence of nature, in scripture, in a glance. It can happen while reading radical trans scholarship or Black feminist poetry. Queer church might look like a dance floor, a kiss, good sex. It may be reclaiming a saint or simply .

New Sacred Spaces

Spiritual organizer Bex Mui鈥檚 queer church began on Instagram. Raised Roman Catholic by her Polish mother and introduced to Buddhist principles by her Chinese father, Mui left the church at 20, in large part due to her burgeoning queerness and growing critical eye toward religion. To manage her grief, Mui threw herself into LGBTQ activism.

鈥淎s a professional speaker and trainer, I delivered 鈥榯he Word鈥� of gender terminology and the rituals of creating safe spaces,鈥� says Mui, who works as an LGBTQ equity consultant. But by 2020, Mui was burnt out. She knew she needed to reconnect with not only her spirituality but with other queer people as well.

Beginning in January 2021, Mui got on Instagram Live every Monday to share prayers, spells, and astrology readings and use tarot as a tool for reflection, a ritual she called Queer Church. While , Mui recontextualized interactions between Mary Magdalene and the newly risen Christ. 鈥淗e鈥檚 often interpreted as saying, 鈥楧on鈥檛 touch me,鈥� a slut-shamey interpretation perpetuating the stereotype that [Magdalene] was dirty and unworthy of his love and attention,鈥� says Mui. 鈥淚n reality and the truer Greek translation, he says, 鈥楧on鈥檛 cling to me.鈥欌�� From Mui鈥檚 perspective, in that moment, both the gospel and the eclipse were inviting people to let go of what is ready to leave.

Eventually, Queer Church expanded to become , a sex-positive and people-of-color-centered community for spiritual exploration and well-being. House of Our Queer offers spaces and tools for spirituality, including workshops, rituals, and in-person community gatherings. And the community has responded. Mui says around 200 people tune in to Queer Church every week, and as many as 500 people attend the monthly Queer Magic Dance Party in Oakland, California.

The focus of both Queer Church and House of Our Queer is to support people who were raised religious, or feel curious about spirituality, and affirm that queerness isn鈥檛 just part of religion but a blessing all its own. Rather than a set religious doctrine or denomination, Mui uses reclamation techniques鈥攍ike adapting a Catholic prayer into a queer activist spell or honoring saints like Mary Magdalene鈥攖o affirm queerness and incorporate her religious upbringing.

鈥淲hether I like it or not, I was raised Catholic, and that鈥檚 a part of my culture. Reclaiming [my spirituality] started for me when I realized that I was actually putting a lot of effort into keeping that door shut,鈥� says Mui. 鈥淨ueer Church is needed because queer people are human, and we need, just like everyone else, a place to gather for celebrations, shared ways to mark the passing of time, and places to turn to when we鈥檙e in pain.鈥�