Anyone who’s been reading my work lately knows I’m obsessing over Queer Eye, the show where five gay men (technically, four gay men and one non-binary person) swoop into a struggling person’s life to shower them with love, affection, new digs, and come-to-Jesus meetings about their health, wealth, and personal choices.
The latest episode I watched was “Black Girl Magic,” a heartbreaking story about Jess, a 23-year-old self-identified Black lesbian who was disowned by her religiously conservative adoptive parents and kicked out of her home at the age of 16 when they discovered her sexuality.
The mom in me was instantly enraged. How does one choose to invite a child into their home and then cast them into the street just because of who they are sexually attracted to? What kind of person chooses religious ideology over the love of their child? What is wrong with these people?
And then, I felt shame. After all, I consider myself a spiritually sound person. I do Ego-shattering work all the time, and even coach others in how to do the same. Yet here I was, projecting onto these strangers nothing but unfiltered judgment and, if I’m honest, outright contempt.
But…wasn’t I right in my judgment? Wasn’t this a perfectly understandable reaction to seeing the naked pain of losing one’s family laid starkly across a young woman’s face?
Does spirituality really mean living totally free of judgment?
Spiritual Misconceptions
Here’s where I land: There is a profound difference between discernment and judgment. And starting in one doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t travel to the other.
My reaction to Jess’s parent’s actions was judgment. I know it because I was angry. Outraged. Stiff, heated, indignant, and self-righteous. My breath was shortened and there was a knot in my throat.
And my reactions felt right. Just. Inarguable.
I even indignantly related the episode to my husband, asking “Can you even imagine doing that to your own child?” (He couldn’t). We agreed these were horrible, hateful people who had no business existing on the planet. We, from our lofty perches of moral authority, could confidently make this assertion.
Of course, what lay underneath these seemingly understandable projections were beliefs of superiority: I’d never do that to my child. I’d never dislike someone just because of their sexual orientation. I’d never be so gullible to believe in and act from a strict religious doctrine.
Eventually, some nasty little doubts about my self-proclaimed human perfection started wriggling their way into my consciousness:
Wasn’t I the one who once told my son he was a burden? Ouch.
Aren’t I the one who automatically dismisses as hopeless anyone who happens to vote Republican? Yikes.
I’m not exactly a paragon of spiritual virtue. So, what does that mean for someone trying their best to be a better Good Human?
Judge Not.. At Least, Not Forever
I didn’t stay there, in my contempt for Jess’s parents and judgment of their actions. I took a breath. I cried. I breathed some more. I watched Jess transform from an insecure girl who genuinely believed love and family were not hers to possess to a fierce Black lesbian qween (her words) who knew her inherent worth and learned that love was already all around her.
My initial rage-filled reaction showed me a place I could explore. What was making me so angry and indignant? Why did I think I had any more right to control Jess’s parent’s beliefs than they did in controlling Jess’s life choices – the very thing I was being so judgmental of?
This is where we learn to be discerning.
Discernment comes from a very different place than judgment.
Remember how I said I knew I was at first in judgment because of how my body felt and the types of thoughts that were running through my head?
Well, discernment also feels a certain kind of way. When I’m discerning the Truth of a situation, I’m not rigid – I’m fluid. I can breathe fully and deeply. My thoughts are not projections outward but rather inquiries directed inward.
Here is what I discern about Jess’s parent’s reactions to her sexuality:
They were not acting from Love, because Love does not expel or seek to control: Only Fear can create and maintain such actions. Any religious ideology that encourages such action and belief systems is, likewise, not a religion based in Love.
That hypocrisy – a faith that preaches God’s love but doesn’t act in kind – is what was making me feel anger. And that anger was my clue that something needed to be investigated.
My initial resentment was coming from a place of discernment. But I needed to move past my knee-jerk judgments and dig to the roots so I could articulate just what was so problematic; my judgment, when explored, revealed my discernment.
And this is the ultimate act of true spirituality:
Transformation, not perfection.
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