When the saints come marching in: the Intersection of Culture and Religion

The original intention of the Black church was to serve as a refuge and a shield from oppression. It was meant to be a safe gathering space to hold and take care of the community. The church gives a community a sense of hope, purpose, and direction. It seems bothersome that Christianity is a religion that was imposed on enslaved African people and many other ethnic groups. It is the religion of the colonizer. The religion that has so much blood on its hands while preaching “thou shall not kill.” The same religion that says “love thy neighbor” while simultaneously invalidating the way that you love. So much more can be said about Christianity, but I ask myself, why can I not let go of it? 

I was raised in the church, and my earliest memories in the church were with my Nana, who would take me every Sunday. I remember seeing her in the praise dance team. I looked forward to Friday night children’s fellowship. I remember overcoming stage fright in the church and cultivating a love of performance; in the choir, the pageants, and in the praise dance team. I loved Easter, Christmas, and Palm Sunday. Church was fun as a kid; it gave me a sense of community and an escape from my PWI. However, I grew up and began to realize that just because Scripture says, “God is love,” does not mean that every believer holds that verse in their heart. Discovering my sexuality as a pre-teen while being in the midst of the church led me to silence and self-loathing. I could just not let go of the church because of what it meant to myself and my family. It was bigger than me, and it was bigger than my religion. So much of the common Black American experience is tied to the Christian church to the point where religion becomes a part of our cultural identity. So much so that when it comes to my reevaluation of faith, not only is it a crisis of faith, but a crisis of racial identity. 

I find gospel music to be so nostalgic, but how can I enjoy Break Every Chain by Tasha Cobbs Leonard when she exclaims, “come out of homosexuality” in the middle of the song? It’s this rhetoric that makes me want to come out of the church. How can a place that I once called home kick me out? That isn’t the God that I serve. I often think about how this religion wasn’t originally ours, but we took ownership of it. There’s something to be said about the resilience of Black people and reclaiming something that was meant to control them. But is that because of the trauma of slavery? I often think of the religions and spiritual practices that were lost because of white Christianity. 

All this being said, I still find myself clinging to Christian practices, especially during very trying seasons. Comfort remains in the midst of uncomfortability. When a question gets answered, I’m still left wondering more. Maybe this is the nature of faith. As complicated as it may be, I will always cherish the Black church.