Croissants, Crumbs & No More Hesitation

Savoring Queer Joy

Listen here and read below.

Childhood Saturdays often started at the Flint Farmers’ Market. Not far from downtown, along the banks of the river. Open all year long, but more vendors and customers in the summer. Local products, fruits and vegetables, meat and fish, cheeses, flowers and plants, soaps, crafts, syrups, jellies and jams, breads, donuts, cookies, and croissants.

Just inside the door was a bakery, where I would stare at all the goodness behind the glass. Soft buttery delights of every flavor. We were allowed to pick one treat. After exploring of all my options, I always chose the same.

One strawberry cream cheese croissant, please.

If we got there early enough it was still warm. Too messy to eat while walking around, so as soon as I received that piece of edible bliss in my hand, I looked for a bench to sit down and enjoy every bite. The waxy wrapping and my lap holding all the flaky crumbs.

As I reflect on my experience of Pride this June those strawberry cream cheese croissants keep coming back to me. Over and over, I’m reminded of the sweetness and the crumbs. One of my favorite Mary Oliver poems is titled Don’t Hesitate. It ends with the line, “Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

And yet for so much of my life, I treated it that way. I thought of joy as an indulgence, a special luxury reserved for celebrations or holidays; a reward for good behavior; a final splurge before beginning a strict diet.

I accepted joy in the form of crumbs. Believing I didn’t deserve a whole piece, or slice, or serving.

I avoided joy for fear of making a mess, or being judged, or ridiculed.

I hesitated.

I hesitated because I was told that joy, like pride, was a sin. That being me was wrong. And finding pleasure in being wrong was exceptionally horrific. I hesitated hearing again and again from the church that I could be queer as long as I didn’t act like it. I hesitated when a family member said “I can accept you as lesbian as long as you’re not happy about being this way.”

There are so many reasons queer people hesitate to embrace joy. And these are the reasons why Pride month is so important. And these are the reasons why Pride must not be relegated to one month on the calendar.

Joy is not solely queer. And queer joy is a whole delicacy. An experience to be savored every day, and this June I savored it differently. It’s important for LGBTQIA+ people to be visible, for our lives to be seen, our voices to be heard, our stories to be told. It’s also important for our souls to be nourished and our spirits to be watered. This year I found nourishment and water in more quiet and intimate ways, away from crowds and large gatherings. This year I did a lot of celebrating without posting and resisting without taking photos. I honored joy by honoring the LGBTQIA+ saints who make today’s pride possible. I cultivated joy by taking steps deeper into the direction of my dreams.

The busyness and intensity of the last year of creating a new life for myself led to exhaustion. Naming this, I realized spaces where healing was still needed and ongoing. I became aware of old habits creeping around waiting to return. I noticed how I was beginning to give attention to others’ perceptions and opinions. I found myself lured by flaky crumbs dropped by those who still won’t serve me the whole croissant.

I watched through tears of grief and anger as children around the world go hungry when there’s more than enough for all to eat, as food is used as a tool of war, as kitchens are bombed, as feeding programs are slashed from the budget to fund billionaire tax breaks, as trans children and youth have their rights and humanity legislated away.

In slowing down, stepping back, and listening to my own inner wise self, I discovered a fresh recipe for joy, one that fills me, heals me, enriches me. Empowers me for this long road of working collaboratively for our collective liberation.

This recipe calls for the truest and most authentic parts of me. It stretches me, but doesn’t require me to betray my body or my spirit. It values what I know and invites me to continue learning. It builds on where I’ve been and inspires me to keep on going. It calls for solitude and also requires community. It’s a way to forgive myself and offer apology to others I have harmed. It’s fun and messy. It’s easy and simple, and sometimes perplexing and confusing. It holds all the emotions of being human. It allows me to hold sorrow without being broken by the weight, to name fear without being overcome by the pressure.

This recipe for joy liberates me from the curse of crumbs. From the belief that I’m undeserving of love and happiness, peace and pleasure. It calls me to the work of journeying with others freeing themselves from theologies of crumbs and binary understandings of ourselves and the world.

I took a walk today and meandered past a pastry shop filled with familiar goodness. I stopped to buy, not a sample or a crumb, but a whole piece.

Cherishing each bite, grateful for bold pride and gentle protest, for private healing and public rest, for the advocating and resisting that will continue when July arrives, for the creativity of croissants, for energy to dismantle systems that weaponize bread and control us with crumbs, for the poems that pleasantly say, don’t hesitate.

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Some questions for us to hold…

For you who are part of the LGBTQIA+ community how have you experienced joy, where have you encountered joy in this month of Pride? What keeps you hesitant about diving in?

For you are allies or curious about becoming one, how have you made space for family and friends, co-workers, neighbors, and strangers to experience and encounter joy? What causes you to hesitate advocating for inclusion and justice? Are you offering LGBTQIA+ beloveds crumbs or an equal serving of welcome and belonging?

How do we work for racial justice and immigrant justice with the same passion as queer justice? For my Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual family, why are we not more vocal and active for our trans siblings in the face of increasing and strengthened attacks on their lives and rights?

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I’m grateful for each of you that have followed along with 10 Camels this June for stories of queer joy and liberation. I trust you’ve found nourishment and some sweet nugget to savor in these words we’ve been turning into water.

This Friday, is our June Friday Field Trip. Friday Field Trips are an extra serving of words and water for paid subscribers. We have a new poem to share with you to close out Pride Month. I hope to see you there. Become a paid subscriber or upgrade your subscription for as little as $5/month.

In July we’ll be sharing poems inspired by Summer Time in Michigan with prompts for writing some poems of your own.

With Water and Joy,
Rebecca & 10 Camels