As a child I was an altar boy. That meant I got to wear fabulous red robes with fine white lace overlay. I grew up in Communist Cuba, where toys were few and there was little worth watching on TV. The upside to that was that I grew up reading, and developed a life-long love affair with books. My earliest heroes – besides Tarzan – were the Catholic saints, whose lives I read and inspired me. I believed they had achieved the highest purpose to which humans could aspire, particularly if they had given up their lives for God.
In those days there was real danger in going to church. Every Sunday my parents – spiritual revolutionaries in their own right – would dress all eight of their children alike and cart us off to church. It was very “Sound of Music.” I remember sitting up on this huge, elevated altar area, looking down at the congregation, and fantasizing that Communists would tear down the doors of the Cathedral, penetrate the church, and desecrate the Eucharist.
Valiantly, I would hurl my body and be riddled by bullets, and, having thus protected the Host, I would become a martyr. Memories like this have helped me to realize that from an early age I entertained a desire to serve God and humanity – to make a difference in this world.
As a tormented and confused teen, like many other gay people, I felt compelled to reject a religion which had no room for me and condemned me to eternal damnation. Like too many of us, I tragically threw out the baby with the baptismal water, unable to reconcile my spiritual urgings with my budding but powerful sexuality.
Angry at God and the church, I rejected anything that smacked of religion or spirituality. I wanted nothing to do with a deity that allowed such needless pain and suffering to occur, not only in my own case, but in that of the countless millions of people – gay or straight – who have gone to their death feeling like sinners, or like they failed, because of misinterpreted and mistranslated moral teachings.
In my late twenties I was living in South Miami Beach, where I had a condo on the water, a sporty car, a beautiful lover, Armani suits, original art on my walls. I was sought after socially and professionally. and my life was enviable. Yet the more I had, the more I felt something was missing. Eventually, at 29, I walked out of my cushy life and embarked on a spiritual journey to rediscover my own spirituality – my own personal connection to the Divine. In the process I also rediscovered service – making a difference in this world – and through that, the hole in my gut began to fill. Having re-established a connection to my essential nature, my life regained meaning.
In the ensuing years, I learned how, throughout history and across many cultures, people we today call GLBT were not only spiritually inclined, but, in many cases, were honored for the roles of spiritual leadership we fulfilled. I was astounded to find that my GLBT ancestors had been shamans and visionaries, mediators and healers, priests and priestesses, and spiritual activists, pioneers of consciousness, and keepers of beauty.
This eye-opening research led to the founding of a nonprofit organization, Q-Spirit, and later, to a book.
It is now crucial for the GLBT community to reclaim its spiritual heritage, to find ways of expressing it that are a match for who we are.
Some will find a place for themselves within established religions, while others will establish their own spiritual connection. Whatever we do, it is important to go within, rediscover, reconnect. As we consciously reclaim and reinvent the archetypal roles we have always played, we will find personal fulfillment; our community’s healing process will be expedited; and the ripple effects will be felt throughout the world.
Christian de la Huerta is leading a workshop January 4-6. Click for more details.
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