Jill Sobule, Joy, and Justice
Pride Month Stories
Listen to me read this reflection here.
Early last month, scrolling on my phone I read about Jill Sobule’s tragic death. Immediately, I remembered getting ready for school one morning and watching the music video for her song “I Kissed a Girl” for the first time on MTV. A catchy tune and a quirky video, featuring supermodel Fabio. Telling one woman’s story of exploring her sexuality.
I had no idea who Jill Sobule was or that this song would become a queer anthem. I had some good ideas about who I was though, and wasn’t singing about that to anyone.
Until.
Every year several churches in town hosted big carnivals as fundraisers. A group of my friends and I went to one in late May. Right before the end of my junior year of high school.
I never loved carnival rides, but group pressure will get you to do lots of things you don’t really love. Trading in several of our expensive tickets, we got on a Ferris wheel-like-ride. The caged carts rocked, shook, and spun as the bigger wheel went around. Faster and faster. I felt sick as soon as it started. And then it stopped abruptly. The wheel no longer in motion, but the cart still rocking, shaking, and spinning. My anxiety and nausea growing. Other passengers above and below us yelling. Other rides around us still moving. Bright lights flashing. Being trapped on a carnival ride was one of my worst nightmares coming true.
My friend sitting in the caged cart beside me encouraged me to sing. “Pick a song,” she said. “Something to distract us.”
Without hesitation, loudly and proudly I belted one out.
“I kissed a girl, her lips were sweet
she was just like kissing me
I kissed a girl, won’t change the world
but I’m so glad I kissed a girl”
For a brief moment—that I hold as eternal—no fear or anxiety. Free despite the cage. Just joy. Pure teenage joy. I could do and be anything. Even me.
And then, when the malfunction was fixed and the wheel started moving again, my heart sunk. Joy dropped. Liberation went back into the closet. What had I just done? Said? Sung? Confessed? Oops or yay?
I quickly went from singing to explaining. Telling my friend, I picked that song because it was fresh on my mind from playing on the radio earlier in the day. That it didn’t mean anything. That of course it didn’t mean I was…
This memory, despite its dramatic ending, is actually one of joy. A reminder of a time I faced my fears and sung my truth. Yes, it was short, but it was sweet like the cotton candy I’d eat as soon as my feet hit the ground. My teenage years were mostly bitter. Experiences like this few and far between. So, I celebrate them—the ones I can—when I can.
Pride Month began on Sunday. I started with a long walk, thinking about where I’ve been and where I’m going. So much of Pride is commercial and fake. Partisanly political and not revolutionary. Parades without protest. Invitations without apologies; Jesus at the booth still unwilling to admit he is used to lock LGBTQIA2S+ people from the pews. Joy without justice. Justice void of joy.
Queer joy is radical. It is self-love in a society that does not love queer lives and bodies. It is believing and treating others the world disregards as worthy and deserving of both joy and justice. It is recognizing that joy needs space to breathe, sing, and dance. That the overwhelming unending work for justice needs room for joy if it is to liberate rather than to subjugate.
It is honoring and celebrating the Trans saints, black and brown queer trailblazers, who so boldly and bravely initiated our Pride parades with their acts of protest. It is stepping into the intersections of oppression. Understanding the connection of Pride and Palestine.
It is not easy being queer. It is not all pain and sorrow either. It is risky to live as ourselves. It is also beautiful. Media and Hollywood love the sad songs. And love to censor the joyful ones. My life, our lives are not sad songs for allies to manipulate and profit from.
This June, in sharing new stories and fresh tunes of joy and justice, I am recommitting to joy.
Like sitting around a table with my friend since high school and her wife. Remembering the carnival and going over our plans for transforming communities and empowering change.
Like singing while spinning in that caged cart, one moment of joy on a long journey to pride.
“and we laughed at the world
they can have their diamonds
and we’ll have our pearls”
Thank you, Jill Sobule, for your creativity, for offering the first song on my soundtrack of queer joy!
If you’re here and part of the LGBTQIA2S+ community, I wish you joy and justice, this month and every single month of the year. May you be safe. Have wisdom and strength and fun in the face of escalated threats and dangers. May you have all the space you need to share your stories in your own timing and unique voice.
If you’re here as an ally or curious reader, thank you for listening and being open to queer stories. I invite you to think about your own experiences of joy and contemplate how your words and practices further joy and hinder justice not only for queer people, but for all those in harm’s way as Christian Nationalism continues to seize power and control.
And, if you’re here as a person of faith, I encourage you to consider how your religious tradition celebrates and recognizes Pride Month. What is the history of your congregation’s and denomination’s treatment of LGBTQIA2S+ people and relationships? If you participate in Pride events, what is your goal?
May these words and water stir reflection on these questions and stir us to being part of bringing a joyful and just world into being.
Joyfully~Queerly Yours,
Rebecca & 10 Camels