Community BBQ or Family Threat?

Last night we went to an event at the kids’ school put on by the Baptists.  It was a weird event– at the end of the day they put up a bunch of gigantic bouncy things and invited the kids to what they called a Community Event.   Earlier in the week the school sent home an invitation.  It was impossible to say no to the boys without telling them why.  For me the “why” would have been something like–“Hey kids, we can’t go to that event because the Baptists actively campaign against our marriage and family in the two countries we are citizens of and they don’t support our family so we can’t go to their event and eat their hot-dogs because it is a trick.”  That message seemed inappropriate for children, so I took them to the event.

They had a couple of guys playing music who were super talented, some hamburgers and hot-dogs, and a bunch of games for the kids, manned by very attractive teenagers.  Some other parents who we know from the school were also there.  The kids had a fantastic time with their friends and everything was free.  All in all, it was a great event for the kids.

 I ended up having a couple of weird conversations with two of the Baptists.  One was taking part in a survey that I answered honestly.  The girl doing the survey asked if I believed in heaven or hell and I said no.  Then she asked what happens after I die, and I said I honestly didn’t know.  She didn’t seem to like my answer and prodded “What do you think happens?”  I thought about it for a moment and realized that I really don’t know, and said so (as I answered her I realized I am kind of okay with not knowing).  I realized no one really knows.  I could tell she was pretty uncomfortable with my answer.

She asked if she could show me what the Bible says, and I told her I was very familiar with the Bible.  She said she assumed no one had ever shown me the Bible, so I told her she was operating under a false assumption since I grew up Presbyterian and went to church every week of my childhood.  She said I should come to church sometime.  I said, “I belong to a church.”  She wanted to know about that and finally, at some point in the conversation, she gave up on saving my soul.

The more interesting conversation happened when we were leaving.  I had noticed the people manning all the booths were wearing t-shirts.  One said Impact 2012 and the other said Challenge 2013.  I asked a young woman what the shirts meant.  Essentially, what I took away from what she told me, was that they were executing a missionary type vision–connecting people to their version of religion and each year they had some sort of strategic plan or vision to do so.

This young woman was actually very kind to Xander, and I was talking with her about how hard it was to get the kids to leave because of the perpetual “one more thing” phenomenon with twins.  She asked me something about Jesus and I said I thought his writings on love were inspiring.  It was obvious she thought she had a “live one” and started trying to “reel me in”, inviting me to learn more about her church.  I said her church isn’t safe for me because I am queer and I need to keep my children safe from her religion.  She looked me straight in the eye and said she really struggles with that part of it too (meaning the GLBT part of it).

 “You should,” I said.  “I believe conservative churches have made a mistake in their interpretation of that issue and they are wrong, and you should feel very uncomfortable with hate in the name of religion.”  It was a moment that was real and somewhat intimate–we were talking about spirituality, after all.  It was unexpected for me.  There was kindness and vulnerability in both of our tones.

Then she mentioned Vacation Bible School and said they wouldn’t be talking about “that” with the kids.  I said there was no way I would let my children spend time with people who have a message of hate about our family–it just isn’t safe.  I could see her brain twirling.  She was obviously intelligent and very, very kind.  She asked if I was married.  I said yes.  I could feel her wanting to ask about my “wife.”  I said, “I’m married to a man and he’s transgender.”  “Is he…?”  I could feel her trying to figure out the right question and not wanting to say the wrong thing.  “He’s a female to male transsexual ” I said.  “If he were here, you would think he was a really, really cute guy and you would never know.”

She was clearly surprised.  I had the feeling our conversation would stay with her, so I left her, and wandered off to find the children.  That conversation will also stay with me.

I left feeling that I might have made an impact, that maybe I was the “wolf in sheep’s clothing” in that conversation.  I was grateful for the real and honest conversation and I got more than I expected out of the Baptist event..

I do have to say one more thing.  I am left with a strange sense of being violated by the kid’s school.  I loved the community feel of this event and I am glad we went.  Otherwise we would have missed the opportunity for the boys to hang out with friends and to play on the giant inflatable bouncy apparatuses (or is that apparati?)  But there is something about the school allowing a group that doesn’t believe in my marriage (and that is against same-sex relationships PERIOD) to come to my children’s school to recruit children and their parents. Somehow, I feel violated that they bundled all that hate up in a pretty package with bouncy structures and candy and music to make it palatable for our liberal friends in the Westdale neighbourhood.   I realize that their stance on same-sex marriage is just one message in the mix.  But for me, that one message makes all of their talk of love and salvation moot.  I would like to keep my children’s school separate from religion, so that no one is trying to convert my children’s friends and their parents to a church that espouses a message of hate.

As we left, my kids were begging to go back.  The Baptists definitely sold them with the big bouncy thing and the candy prizes.  I hope their impact is less than they hoped.