If you are in the Chicago area, stop by Chicago Theological Seminary on February 22 for the Intersections conference on sex, race, class, and gender. I’m giving a paper there called “Animal Affection: A Queer Zoological Reading of Song of Songs.” I’ve got a few friends giving really interesting papers too. It’ll be a great conference. Registration is required but free. Check out the website.
If you didn’t know or aren’t American, the Super Bowl was last Sunday. This honored tradition is not only the event that displays the best in American football athletes but also the best in advertisements, and this year was no exception. One stand-out ad was Budweiser’s “Brotherhood” commercial:
This is a charming commercial about the relationship between a man and his horse. This relationship is clearly anthropomorphized on the horse’s part, which has led viewers to speculate about what the nature of this relationship is. The title of the ad wants us to interpret it as a brotherly relationship, but one could easily assume a parent-child relationship as well. The third possibility, though, is what I want to focus on.
Many viewers saw this ad through the lens of a romantic hermeneutic, admitting that it looked like the man and the horse are in love (and, I might note, seeing as the actual title is “Brotherhood,” they are both males and therefore would be in a same-sex zoophilic relationship). Jon Stewart made joke to this end on last night’s show, and Twitter has a number of examples of people taking this interpretation:
I have no doubt the ad’s makers had no intention of casting the man and his horse as romantically involved, and while these tweets indicate the taboo nature of the topic of bestiality in many cultures, I want to ask whether they are wrong. Is it wrong to include with the realm of interpretive possibilities one option that suggests they are in love or are having sex? If humans have had sex with animals throughout history, and if human desire for animals has always been a facet of human sexuality, can a zoophilic hermeneutic be a good hermeneutic to use here?
Usually people express disgust at such a suggestion, and I also want to step back and ask why we feel that way. But that’s another subject entirely.
More to the point, what happens when we take this zoophilic hermeneutic from this commercial and apply it to other texts, like the Bible? I suggest we might find some surprising possibilities for animal attraction. The male voice in Song of Songs compares his female companion to a mare (Song 1:9). If this is to be an effective compliment, if he is to show his affection for her by comparing her to a horse, then perhaps he has some attraction to horses as well. If, as Gayle Rubin said, “the time has come to think about sex,” then the time has surely also come to think about animal sex.
More on this topic as events unfold.
Sorry for the silence. I have had quite a busy semester at Chicago Theological Seminary, where I’ve just started PhD work, and the move to Chicago has been stressful. For my classes this semester, I’m working on two papers in the realm of sexuality and gender that I’m quite excited about, and I might build a post about them soon. The first looks at transgendering in visionary experiences in Montanist texts (Montanism is a second-century C.E. ecstatic prophetic movement), and the other is an attempt to explore animal attraction (possibly even zoophilia) in Song of Songs. If any resources pop into your head, let me know. Otherwise, look forward to hearing from me during the winter break.
I tweeted about this a few weeks ago, but it deserves a post as well. Terence Weldon over at Queering the Church has put together a bibliography of blog posts that he deems affirming for LGBT people. The posts that he links to are obviously not rigorous scholarly material but may perhaps be insightful for queer hermeneutics (and for ministry too, if you’re in to that). The resources are conveniently divided according to the section of the Bible they relate to. Please check out his LGBT Affirmative Scriptures bibliography.
This post is part of a series of posts on the anthology Take Back the Word.
Virginia Ramey Mollenkott’s “Reading the Bible from Low and Outside: Lesbitransgay People as God’s Tricksters” provides a brief model for reading the Bible from the margins. When people are oppressed and marginalized—be they people of non-normative sexual orientations, genders, races, what have you—they must develop strategies to make it in society. Mollenkott grew up in a fundamentalist tradition and subsequently spent many years married to a man, but in time she left those behind and embraced her identity as a lesbian. Because of her long time in the closet, she knows the necessity of keeping secrets and playing the part, and she aims to create a space where those still in the closet are not looked down on:
it is time for queer people and all other oppressed people to openly espouse an ethical system that honors necessary subversion and ceases to shame those who practice it. (15)
She quotes Butler to show that outness is not the only way to be queer, nor is it the best way (if there even is one), nor is it even possible for some. Perhaps outness is privilege. The privilege of being out is revealed in the reaction she has received to her argument from affluent gay white males, who, besides being gay, are already located in the dominant populations of Western society. Other queers, like those of other ethnicities, genders, and economic situations, may lack the means or ability to be out in the same way as their white brethren. Thus, according to Mollenkott, we need a strategy that works with and honors those who are out and those who aren’t:
I am arguing for a realistically complex “underground” or “resistance” code of ethics, which is this: I will do what is necessary to preserve the loving values I believe in, and at the same time, I will try to survive in order to work yet another day. Such a code honors the integrity on both sides of the closet door. (19)
She uses two primary biblical examples to provide models for her underground ethics. First, Rebekah can be seen as the progenitor of the trickster archetype. The role of the trickster, usually said to originate (in the Hebrew Bible at least) in the character of Jacob, should actually be traced back to Rebekah, his mother, who teaches him how to perform subterfuge. Rebekah is not out in the open, but rather she works in secret.
The author’s second model is the situational ethics of the New Testament, as in 1 Cor 10:23–24. We are free to be queer, she says, but sometimes it is best to be queer in secret:
sometimes it is necessary to eat our sacrificial meat “in the closet,” so to speak. (20)
When we work in secret, subversively, perhaps we are able to do just as much as working while out. Those in the closet need not be considered any less active or any less activist. The relative openness of one’s queer secret does not determine the effectiveness of one’s ministry or scholarship.
I have two fears relating to this. The first is this: a trickster ethics is one that by necessity includes lying and hiding. In what way does such an ethics not simply play into the hands of heteronormativity? Is this not exactly what compulsory heterosexuality and cisgenderedness would have us do? I worry that despite the undercover activist actions we may perform, they are still overwhelmed by a system that works against us even as it erases us. But fortunately, Mollenkott provides for a balance—there is work to be done by people on both sides of the closet.
My second fear is one Mollenkott may have herself. At this point, in 2012, this book is 12 years old, and her essay was published 4 years before even that. Will we or have we reached a point where “queer” is no longer marginal? How much does the new gay mainstream affect our ability to read from the margins? This has been a question ever since queer theory began to be formally studied in colleges and universities: can queer remain queer when it is institutionalized? Can we still read and act as tricksters? The answer, I think, is yes and no; it all depends upon context. But this is a timely reminder to always think of those on the margins even when LGBTQ people are becoming more and more popular in American media. Keep queer queer.
P.S. Do I have the authority to ban the word “lesbitransgay”? Probably not. It’s ugly and ponderous, and I think we can come up with better alternatives. Just a thought.
This is a few weeks old, but a friend of mine, John Boyd, an MDiv student at the Candler School of Theology in Atlanta, has a post up on LGBTQ Nation about author and UCC minister Robert Wood, who was one of the first people in the twentieth century to write on queer inclusion without using a pseudonym. His 1960 book Christ and the Homosexual: Some Observations (AZ | WC—it’s out of print, but you can find one in a library) was a real groundbreaking piece. Wood argues, for example,
To say without reservation that homosexual marriages are immoral and should not be sanctioned by the clergy is to sacrifice the homosexual upon the altar of the status quo.
On gay clergy, he says,
Whether a homosexual can be a Christian and a clergyman, the answer is “yes.”
This is pretty powerful stuff, especially considering the time it was published. Robert Wood turned 89 on May 21 and now lives in a retirement community in New Hampshire. If you get a chance, head over to LGBTQ Nation and check out John’s post.
This post is part of a series of posts on the anthology Take Back the Word.
The introduction to Take Back the Word shows us that the anthology is a reclamation project. The authors recognize that the Bible has been used as a weapon against LGBTQ people in the past, and they (along with the other authors in the book) to provide different ways of reading. The Bible contains “texts of terror” (drawing from Phyllis Trible’s book of the same name), but we can “out the Bible” (drawing from Nancy Wilson’s Our Tribe) in order to find more positive readings. The authors of the introduction identify the book’s hermeneutic as reading the Bible as a friend:
When we approach the Bible as a friendly text, as a text that ‘does no harm’ [drawing from John Wesley, I believe], the terror of Scriptures is transformed into the life-giving Word of God. (5)
This is a highly optimistic view that the authors don’t explore much, except to give brief summaries of the chapters that follow. I’d be intrigued to know whether the aforementioned texts of terror can indeed be read in a friendly way; they don’t say how friendly we can be with the Bible. But the introduction has provided an encouraging foretaste of what we’ll see in the rest of the book, laying the (very brief) groundwork for a positive queer reading. I look forward to reading the rest of the book.