All posts by Connie Tuttle

The Book, the Party, the People

It was a wonderful night!
Thank you to all who came out to celebrate with me!
Thank you to all who were there in spirit!

After eight (count ’em) years of working on my memoir it is time to celebrate!
So bring on the music – O Happy Day, Sing Lo-Sing O Sophia, and Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round, sung and led by three talented singers and a phenomenal pianist.  We celebrated diversity and connectivity.  Being interviewed by Imam Trina Jackson was enlightening and fun. (I love her so much!)
Celebrating at my alma mater, Agnes Scott, brought special joy, as did working with Tina Pippin (Religious Studies) and Kate Colussey-Estes (chaplain of the college). The college has come so far since I was there with their now profound commitment to diversity and inclusion!

And then there were all the friends who provided the ‘pot luck’ reception of extremely excellent food- both savory and sweet. And those who stayed to party.

After two weeks of wrestling a severe case of the flu topped by bronchitis I was able to step out and share stories of blessing and struggle. What was profound was the gathering of people who care, the sharing of food and life, and the hope for the future as people continue to stand against all that dehumanizes in the name of Godde.

Tiny Hands Are The Least of His Problems

I looked for images with the quote “Trump’s Tiny Heart” not really expecting to find anything. Figured I’d just use a picture of a very, very small heart. Guess what? There is nothing new under the sun. Trump’s minuscule heart is the object of art and essay, protest and punditry.

Babies in cages. ‘Nice’ Nazi’s. And now, the inability to be gracious at the death of a man who served this country with honor.

Now y’all know I am not a Republican, but my dad was and he was cut from the same cloth as McCain: opinions held with integrity, open to vigorous debate, and never a question that the good of the country supersedes personal interests. And vigorous debates we had. I disagreed with Sen. McCain about many policy issues but, unlike the current president, it never occurred to me that he was motivated by self-interest or that he might be the patsy of a hostile nation. Even my staunchly Republican dad grieved the assassination of President Kennedy and honored his service to the nation. Folks, that should be the NORM not the exception.

And now Tiny Heart is too self concerned to show the minimal respect of flying the White House flag at half mast. It is a smallness of heart I can’t even fathom. A sickness of mind with no awareness of anything other than the room he is in. Everything that happens in the world is a preposition followed by “me”. To Trump things are either done for, through, over, under, against or to him. (yes, there are more on the list and they also apply). There is no good cure for this world view and the sycophants in the White House, House, and Senate only reenforce it. It makes me afraid that our government is filled with a majority of people suffering from the same affliction.

During the campaign Trump feared that references to the size of his hands maligned the size of his dick. Now we know that no matter how small his dick is he put it plenty of places  disdaining his commitments to his many wives. Should we worry about that? Maybe. But not nearly so much as we should be repelled by his small, small heart. His refusal to fly the flag at half mast because McCain stood up to him politically reveals what we all know: that he has no clue of or commitment to the ideals we try to live up to. More than that, he has no idea of the value of McCain’s life and service lived with more integrity and greater heart than to which Trump could ever aspire.

 

I Sent My Book To Hillary

I sent my book to Hillary. Something in me wants to share my story with her. The truth is, her story is a part of my story, in the same way that all of our stories are a part of the larger epic writ large in our time. I identify with her as a woman in times of great change who has faced defeat while challenging institutions entrenched in sexism. She, perhaps, with more grace than I.

Make no mistake. I am no Hillary. I don’t have her intelligence, experience, or fortitude. But I know what it is like to be seen as a threat and to be the object upon whom people project their fears. I sent her my book because her story resonates  with me and I hope mine resonates with her. We are sisters bound by our age, gender, and passion for justice.

So I sent her a copy. Because, well,  we are “stronger together” and my small piece is joined to her very large piece and every other piece women bring to the table.

In my Author’s Notes and Acknowledgments I say, “Though I would not choose to live my life differently, I have learned that sometimes the dragon wins.”

The dragon won this round but he ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Because sisters, our stories are stories of strength, persistence, stamina, and dreaming large. So watch out, because we will change the world, one life, one story at a time.

 

50 Days of Work to Do!!!!!

Midterm elections are in less than 50 days.
The Georgia gubernatorial election is in less than 50 days.

GET ON BOARD! Find your candidate. If you live in Georgia we can make history when we elect  Stacey Abrams to be our next governor!

For change to be made there is work to be done.
Are you an extrovert? Then find your candidate and sign up to knock on doors. It is the hard work of making change.
Are you an introvert? Then sign up to write postcards, make phone calls, do data entry, raise funds. It’s the grunt work that needs to be done to make change.

And whether you are an extrovert, an introvert, skilled or unskilled, well-off or struggling, make a donation. Your $5 or $50 or $500 gives you a stake in the outcome and an investment in the future.

The time is NOW to contact the campaign office of your candidate, to be boots on the ground, to ‘chop wood and carry water’. None of us is required to do some big thing but all of us must do something. We can’t afford to act as if politics is a spectator sport.

Yes. Your vote absolutely counts. At the very, very least commit to vote. But if the direction of this nation terrifies you, then act like it. Do what you can. Now and on election day.
Do you need a ride to the polls? let someone know.
Can you give a ride to the polls? let the campaign know.
Are Georgians going to need to rally to take African-American voters to the polls in Randolph county? Keep your ear to the ground and be ready to spend the day giving rides.

Stay informed. VOTE. Vote early. Do the work. If not now, it may be never.

 

 

Good Enough

Here’s a paradox: the story I tell in my book, A Gracious Heresy: the Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet, is an extension of the work of my life. Another way I bear witness. Another kind of prophetic ministry. Now hold that in one hand. In the other hold the idea that I am a creative person who dances with language and paints pictures with words.

1-  Faithful to a call in which ego often gets shoved out of the way
and
2-  writer as artist with ego to spare.
Interesting intersection. Actually, not a new one for me. I teeter on a balance beam between the two and list one way or the other depending on the time of day, my frame of mind, and how centered I am in Godde on any given moment.

I am not particularly good or saintly. If you read my story you will discover a gleefully imperfect woman.  I do  have a wicked little voice in one ear that berates me for not being perfect. But there is a stronger voice in my other ear that says, “do your best and let it go” and “you will never be without flaws but don’t be without integrity”.
I wish I could be as good to my writer self as I am to my human self. But maybe that’s the answer to my dilemma today: to know that my work is not perfect, but I  have done it with integrity.

Wow. Thanks for listening to me untangle that internal knot.  I invite you to do the same. Unravel the  cords that bind you to the falsehood that  you are not good enough because you are not ‘perfect’.

 

How to Talk to Trump Supporters

Impossible task?
Unwanted engagement?
Scary threat?
Lost cause?
All of the above?

Another question we need to ask “is how do we survive if we don’t learn how to talk to one another?”.  Have we become so deeply divided we can’t even acknowledge one another’s humanity?”  Hatred must be resisted:
the hatred of women
of queers
of people of color
of immigrants
of change.
And we must resist our own hatred of those who wish for our demise.

Let’s start with recognizing that hatred is a ‘leading’ emotion of a much more vulnerable emotion of fear that is more difficult to tolerate. The question then becomes not ‘how do we challenge/fight their (and our own) hatred? but ‘how do we speak to their fears?’.

To answer this question means that we must, as Michelle reminded us, go high. We have have to be the better person in the conversation. We need to challenge and live with our own fears and find some small, even minuscule, ground on which to stand that opens us to compassion for the other.

I hear you screaming. We, too, are afraid. We, too, are angry about the disintegration of our national moral fiber, broken ideals, and trashed social advances. Why do we fricking have to be the better person? The answer is simple: because we can. And if we can, then it is our task and our call, to move our conversations about justice and change forward. We do this because we’re the ones for whom it matters. And hating the haters won’t get us there.

What gets us there is mending the fabric of society. Are you afraid you’ll lose your job? So are we. Are you afraid for your safety? So are we. To make it through, we must make it through together. So let’s not talk about programs, let’s talk about a human response to our shared concerns. Use our words to connect rather than disconnect.

The other night I heard a really good talk by Drew Westen, a preeminent doctor of psychology at Emory who wrote the book, The Political Brain.
https://www.amazon.com/Political-Brain-Emotion-Deciding-Nation/dp/1586485733

And while I won’t quote him here, his works speaks profoundly to the issue before us. So read it, please. But at least learn how to speak to another’s fear. If people are, indeed, wired differently- and early evidence points that way- then we must speak their language. Republicans have intently worked on messaging in a way that plays to fear in how they label and refer to different policies and people. It’s time for us to find words that reach across that created divide. 

For example, if the term ‘Obamacare’ is used to play to people’s racism and fears of government intrusion then let’s not use it. Or ACA or anything that doesn’t lend itself to emotional responses. The suggestion Westen used was to say instead, ‘A family doctor for every family’.

It is time to think about how we can talk with our fellow citizens rather than participating in the divide that might surely destroy us. Go high. Even when it’s the hardest thing you have ever had to do.

 

Why I Wrote the Book (and a sneak peek)

People often ask me why I wanted to write a book – that was during the years I put my head down and trashed a thousand drafts. I always said it was because I had a story to tell. Now that my book (A Gracious Heresy: the Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet) is published I need to think about the answer to that question in different ways.

It’s still true that I  wanted to write a book because I have stories to tell.
But there are lots of reasons.
I wrote a book because my life is unusual – or as some have said, ‘interesting’.
I wrote a book because I love words and language.
I wrote a book – and will probably  write more – because the creative process gives me juice.
I wrote this book because it is insight into a small part of the history of change in the church and the nation.
I wrote this book because I wanted to confront myself and share the humanity of struggle.
I  also wrote this book because I have a big ole’ creative gene begging for expression.

Here is a preview, a snippet, a snapshot from the book. It is from the time my mom and I visited Dachau when I was ten:

“I leaned into my mother’s warmth, hungry for the security she offered as I took in the pain and horror. Questions I would struggle with the rest of my life were forged in those moments. Forever, my questions about the Sacred and the human, history and theology, politics and prayer seek answers in those grim, gray rooms filled with the remains of the innocent and the stench of intolerance.
That day I left the camp in the safety of my mother’s embrace. It did not occur to me that she was like other mothers and that there were things from which she could not protect me. We passed through the gates of the camp returning to a world filled with magic and color and sunlight. I did not know then but Dachau will be a part of me until the day I die.
We returned home and over the next weeks and months, my fear and outrage receded to tolerable levels. Back in school, I turned to my studies and friendships.

As a woman and a lesbian I wear the first hand scars of the injury done to my soul by sexism, heterosexism, and the not so subtle message that I am “less than.” I also carry within me secondary scars of evil. As a white person, I the carry the secondary scars of racism, as a non-Jew, the secondary scars of Nazism. As a citizen, the secondary scars of violence. As a human being, the secondary scars of intolerance.
I guess I made that up, secondary scars, or maybe I heard in another context, but what I mean is that I and we carry in our persons not only the consequences of evil that has been done to us but also the evil that is done to others. We are not separate from that which is perpetrated on others. We are injured either by our complicity or our compassion, whether conscious or not. It is those scars that make it impossible for me to remain silent.”

A final plug: it can be ordered from Amazon or directly from the publisher: https://wipfandstock.com/a-gracious-heresy.html

 

Silenced by a Lie

I heard yesterday that I am “just an angry lesbian.”
It takes only one phrase,
uttered by those in charge of writing history,
to erase the reality of those not in power.

This is not a new thought.
Oppressed people
know who writes history
and it is not them.
It had never been so personal before.

If I were writing my history
this is the story I would tell:
Godde called me to ministry.
I had to figure out what it meant.
I went to seminary with the intention of being
authentic
open
vulnerable
and willing to engage in difficult, often hurtful conversations.
I made that choice
It came with a great price.
I got to experience personal rejection
even hate
and ignorance in the name of God
that daily crushed my spirit.

And yet I believed
I had the strength to engage
To stay.
To listen.
To retain my integrity.
So I did.
And I thank Godde for sustaining me in that time.

I didn’t realize that
years later
my witness would be silenced
by a lie.

Pick One Thing

I had breakfast this week with an activist from Indivisible-Georgia that I have long admired.  We crossed paths many times since the election but never had the opportunity to sit down together. I am so glad we made the time because I came away a little more hopeful and a lot more invigorated. My take away was simple and it is important because I believe it can stop us from giving into hopelessness and keep us  from being overwhelmed by the magnitude of the shit storm we are living under.

If you are like me, you want to do it all. After the daily bombardment of news that makes my skin crawl, my heart ache, and my anger boil, I want to march, to protest, to write letters, to register voters, to work against gerrymandering, to work against voter suppression, to work with great organizations like Black Lives Matter and the Women’s March, the ACLU, and the Democratic Party. I am ready to get things done but the amount that needs to be done and the odds we are up against can suck the hope out of me.

So I walked away from our breakfast thinking, “I need to get the word out” because  so many of us are battle weary. So many of us teeter on the edge of being hopeless. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO STOP, GIVE UP, OR GIVE IN.

So how do we deal with the fatigue of engaging the nightmare of our current political situation? DO ONE THING. Pick one thing and go all in. Pick one action, commit to one issue and give it your time and attention and energy. Trust that others are doing the same with other issues about which you care. But do your one thing. As much as you can as best you can.  That’s how we’re going to get this done.

OMG! My Book Has Arrived!

In what may be the longest pregnancy in recorded history, my memoir, A Gracious Heresy: the Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet  has arrived. Here is the description I wrote for the back of the book and it about sums it up:

“Take one wildly naïve, deeply flawed, completely unconventional woman and stir in God. Add to the mix that she is a lesbian, feminist, army brat, and single mom and what you get is an earnestly radical Christian on a mission. Her response to an insistent call to prophetic ministry is acutely human and terminally messy. Prone to veer off course, she wrestles angels who repeatedly return her to her trajectory. No matter, the prophetic ministry to which she is called ends up taking place in hundreds of small daily acts rather than the great act to which she had hoped for.”

I was notified that my author’s copies would be sent out late last week. So I just went online to see if maybe, somehow, who knows, it was on the web site. It is!
https://wipfandstock.com/a-gracious-heresy.html

It will also be on Amazon and in bookstores sometime in the next three or four weeks. Audible to follow.

Can I say I am overwhelmed? But more surprising, I am terrified.  It seemed like a good idea at the time. I have lots of good ideas “at the time”. This is one I can’t take back or do over.

So here it is, dear readers. I have labored long, revised and re-revised, agonized, and sweat tears. I now offer it to you in all it’s messy, imperfect glory. I self disclose (you’ll need to tell me if it is ‘over’ or ‘under’) and all of a sudden I feel very vulnerable. You may wonder why I didn’t think about this before. You may also come to discover that it  is not how I work.

‘Jump first’ seems to be my motto.Look around second. So now I’m looking around to see what I’ve gotten myself into. I am not oriented enough to answer that question yet, but this I will say: Some part of me thinks I have done my best and some part thinks it will never be good enough. That said, my story is an invitation to think about call, spiritual experience, doctrine, heresy, sexuality,  faithfulness, and challenging the powerful.  It’s also a damn good story about an interesting life.

I hope you will do me the honor of reading it.