by Lexi Aligarbes

It has taken a lot of time for me to feel at home in the beautiful and messy intersections that I navigate constantly within my identity. I experience the world as a queer, Filipino-American woman. For most of my life, I wrestled with these aspects of my social location. Then, when I arrived at Princeton Theological Seminary I realized there was yet another part of myself that didn’t fall easily into one category. Turns out that being denominationally unaffiliated, with Quaker leanings, isn’t quite the easiest label to try to explain to seminarians. Needless to say, some of the most defining features of myself are not that easy to define. The intersections that I am able to occupy have become a kind of in-between state I move through daily. However, I have not always viewed my identity from this point-of-view. Being unable to feel comfortable in a single category use to foster a sense of inadequacy in myself. Too often I would describe features of my being as not enough. Growing up, I wrestled with not feeling like enough in my ethnic identity.

My mother comes from a long line of West Virginian white coal miners. My father was raised as a city kid in urban Iloilo, Philippines, immigrating to the United States when my parents decided to marry.

This mixed background proved challenging throughout various moments in my life.

As a child, I never felt comfortable identifying solely as a Filipino. Unable to speak my father’s language I felt that I couldn’t participate fully in my Filipino community and build relationships with people who I shared some kind of familiar ethnic background with. And yet, the brown glow in my eyes, hair, and skin made me feel uncomfortable in all-white spaces. When I reached college I had the freedom to explore questions about my sexuality that I had never wanted to confront.

With the help of a beautiful and vibrant queer community, I came to realize that my sexual orientation is not limited to a single gender.

However, this feeling of inadequacy rose again as I saw and felt the ways people reacted to my relationships. With male-identifying partners, I could see others deny my queerness while with my girlfriend we were unable to occupy spaces in the same open way heterosexual couples do. I felt torn between not being heterosexual with my girlfriend or not “queer enough” when I was with a man. Yet, I didn’t want these feelings of inadequacy to define who I was. I started to find ways that I could reconcile these experiences, both my in-between ethnicity and sexuality. I told my story differently. It wasn’t about my inability to choose a single label or not fit into a specific category. Rather, my identity was shaped by what I was capable of doing. I was given the freedom to name myself and my experiences the way I wanted to. This journey of healing and reconciliation proved necessary when I found myself questioning my spirituality. 

My spiritual life is just as mixed as the rest of me. I grew up in a Lutheran church, however, neither one of my parents are Lutherans. My mom grew up in the Church of the Brethren and my dad was influenced by Baptist missionaries in the Philippines. While attending my Quaker undergraduate college, I found myself working in ministries with connections to the Assemblies of God churches and even non-denominational church plants. Each tradition has brought something different into my life that has shaped the way I have come to understand and witness God working in the world. Yet, without a denominational tie, I found myself questioning whether or not I was Christian enough. As I wrestled and wept over this desire to feel comfortable in one tradition I realized that the mix of my ethnicities and the queerness I use to describe my sexual orientation are parts of a similar queerness I feel in my spirituality.  

Embracing a queer spirituality is scary. The queer spaces are undefined. Unable to name and define this experience and identity produces more questions than answers and people are scared to have spirituality without answers. The idea of faith becomes a new way of being and living in the world.

Yet, there is a liberation in this queerness. Out of the unknown comes the unimaginable. Limitless possibilities of how God is alive and working in our world come from these voices. My sexuality thus has been an identity that has strengthened my outlook and formation of my faith.

Finding comfort in this undefined space has allowed me to explore the mysteries of God and my faith in a fearless way. Being able to contemplate aspects of myself in this space has given me the freedom to hold in tension parts that I find myself conflicting with while allowing myself to articulate the way in which I want to be in this world.  

This in-between world I occupy is a gift.

Now this place is not a grey gradient, of not quite black or not quite white. Rather, the queerness of my in-between space has shown me that in this place there is a tangled mix of vibrant colors. It is full of possibilities. Endless combinations of colors can come forth to paint the way I see the world in numerous shades. The colors that I have access to have given me the freedom to learn about myself. And with each new colorful stroke of queerness, I have come to know God in a new and beautiful way.