Haircut

She says as long as I sweep the clippings

She will cut my hair.

 

So, I sit on the office chair and she covers

my clothes with an apron before grabbing

the comb and her extra-sharp scissors

(and her glasses).

 

I watch her in the mirror as she stares

at my head from the back. As I have never seen

the back of my own head directly, I can only imagine

what tragedy is bringing that look.

 

Perhaps I have a cottage of hair nymphs

camping back there, feeding on lice and dandruff.

They’d whistle like the seven dwarves

as they work to keep the top and front of my hair looking swell.

She cuts them off.

 

Then the sides. I guess those I see more often.

maybe something is hiding out of sight there.

A ghost of the hair that used to be there,

haunting the nymphs, and maybe whispering insecurities in my ear.

She cuts them off.

 

Then the top. I’m sure there are wildflowers

just about to bloom. But, plants usually mean dirt

which usually means bugs. And there is no nymph left

to roast them on an open fire.

She cuts them off.

 

And the front. I made that part myself.

Or I guess I shaped it.

She cuts it off.

 

When she finishes, she asks if everything looks okay.

I say yes and thank her and sweep up the nymphs and bugs,

and probably the ghosts too.

Though I never can tell if they phase through my hand.

Can There Be Reconciliation?

This Friday, I went to a reconciliation seminar on LGBTQIA+ and the church. The goal of the seminar was to find a bridge between all of the community, but it mostly focused on bridges between those who believe monogamous same-sex relationships are sinful and those who believe they are God-ordained.

I had the task of leading one of the table groups, facilitating civil conversation among the members at my table. Bill Munn, an affirming, kind, older man, was my table co-leader. Next to him was Chester, an Asian-American from Taylor University (similar to IWU in school rules). Then Susan, an affirming, elderly, retired pharmesist with a crackly whisper voicing her strong opinions. Next to her was Jordan, a non-affirming, white, male IWU student. Then Shelbi. Affirming, and a friend from my major department.

It was difficult to hear opinions contradictory to my own. As a liberal member of a generally conservative Christian school, I hear non-affirming positions at least once a month, and I have developed a callus. This seminar exposed my predisposed frustrations, so I might have better communion with those who disagree with me in the future.

Still, I find it hard to entertain non-affirming positions since these positions have led to discrimination of my queer siblings in Christ. Eerily similar to racially-charged laws in the 50s, legislature denying marriage rights and giving discriminatory freedoms on the grounds of religion has plagued states like Indiana and Mississippi. Businesses can legally fire, deny services, avoid hiring, and flat-out bully queer individuals based on their sexual and/or romantic preferences or their gender identities.

People say it’s a black-and-white issue. That being gay is an abomination, and there’s nothing I can say to prove them wrong. They mean there’s nothing I can say to change their mind. They take on the mentra, “love the sinner, hate the sin” even if they don’t say it in so many words. I’ve learned through experience that the Christian Community polarizes acceptance and love instead of viewing acceptance as a characteristic of love. They say, “We love you, but…” as if love is supposed to be conditional. Some real-life examples I’ve faced: “We love you, but you can’t come to school here anymore.” “We love you, but you should be fired.” “We love you, but we’d like you to commit suicide.”

“We love you, but we hate your sin.” Which to them means, “God hates your sin,” which to the LGBTQIA+ community means, “God hates you.” How do you find reconciliation with a faith that claims it is founded in love, but openly promotes hatred.

Maybe it’s time to move love and acceptance into one definition. Maybe it’s time for gay people to understand that they really are distinct. But something needs to be done, or the queer community will be lost to the kingdom of God –no one can say that is biblical.

“Mnth. I’mph FIneg”

When I was younger, I had a lot of growing pains, so I could not sleep. My legs could feel themselves stretching (like walking for hours and finally getting to sit down). Once, I woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain. I violently trembled in my bed crying and begging God to take away the pain. After a few minutes, He did. The next day, my older sister told me I needed more potassium in my life and handed me a banana. My growing pains were probably why I had so many weird dreams. I would hurt in real life, so my dream life would have me hurting too. My dreams are scattered elsewhere now, maybe haunting a future story, but a few remain vivid and crisp. In one, humans had to live on the roofs of houses, or at least two stories above ground, to avoid being sucked toward the center of a large city. Some people used the suction as a means of transport, but, if they didn’t hit a building or tree just right, they would be pulled into the vortex and vanish forever. Nearly everyone lived in that city except my family and I. We were running out of supplies, so we linked arms and allowed the suction to pull us toward hope. One by one, my relatives fell into the vortex, until only a few of us were left to hope.

I would spend my summers in Podunk (Lamar) Missouri with my three siblings and my four cousins. Grandma wanted to keep us friendly with one another, so she made us play together. It was usually fun, but every once in awhile my cousins would get a bright idea. I was always the butt of that idea. Usually this involved some form of torture. When I was six, my male cousins and brother stripped me naked and tied me to a table. They thought it would be funny to use me as a dart board, though I can’t imagine why. When I wasn’t being used to throw sharp objects at, my cousins and siblings would all team up as a single force against my one-man army. They would run around, shooting me with Nerf bullets unrelentingly. I was a terrible aim, so I only hit them once or twice.

Eventually, I got fed up with being the enemy, test dummy, and/or dart board. So, I had to find someone else to play with. Usually this was myself, writing or drawing, but sometimes I would go in to see Granny (my great grandma). Her room was in my grandma’s house. It was decorated with white lace doilies, crystal candy bowls, and pink floral divans. Everywhere, there were family photos, silhouettes of Granny’s parents, paintings, giant senior portraits –all sentimental and necessary to my Granny. She and I would sit together and play cards (she had this quirk where she would breathe funny when she was thinking: “pft pft pft”).

My favorite story of hers is about her missing finger. Her right ring finger was chopped clean off at the second knuckle by an axe swung by one of her brothers. She was scared when it happened, but not as scared as her maimer. Granny told her brothers not to say who did it, so their parents wouldn’t get the poor boy into trouble. She kept the secret to her grave. Even after her parents were long dead and gone, Granny didn’t tell a soul who chopped her finger off. All we know is that it was one of her brothers. Now everyone who knows the truth behind the mystery is dead.

Granny did all that she could to model honesty and good character –even on her deathbed. She died in a nursing home hospital that definitely smelled like a nursing home: urine, perfume, and death (which smells suspiciously like lemon Pine-sol trying to mask said urine). Her hospital room was hardly big enough to hold six of the eight cousins and my favorite aunt and uncle. Granny was skinny. Her features were still normal, but they formed closer around her bones and she lacked the usual rosiness in her cheeks. Her eyes, too, had darker rims around them, as though she had been craving sleep for awhile.

“Hi, Granny,” I stuttered. My mouth and eyes were dry. “How are you doing?”

“lmnth. I’mph FIneg.” She just had a stroke, so I couldn’t understand her well. I think she said she was fine, but maybe she said, “I’m dying.”

We talked for a moment. I told her of a few things going on in my life –of my novel and my plans for the coming school year– and left the room with the rest of my family when it was time the nurses to change her adult diaper. While we were waiting outside, I told my grandma I wanted to stay and help out –that I could read to Granny or talk to her or something.

“You can stay if you want,” Grandma said in her blunt, simple voice, “but it’ll be boring. There’s nothing to do.”

I contested, but eventually agreed with my grandmother’s logic (with help from my cousin who wanted to go out) and decided to leave.

Before we left, I said goodbye to Granny. I hugged her and kissed her cheek with my dry lips and told her I would be back tomorrow.

“No,” she said clearly, “you don’t haph to do that.” She sounded almost normal when she spoke, but her messy “have” proved the sentence was difficult to say.

I reassured her that I would be back, that I would see her again.

“No!” she kept saying, insisting, “It’s Ok.”

So I left, free of my promise to see her. She died before I woke up the next day. She freed me of a single, accidental lie. I try to be as honest as I can be now.

“The night she died, I sang Christian music to her to quiet her down,” Grandma told me later. “She was unsettled until I thought of singing hymns. And about two hours later, she peacefully went home.” My grandma took a breath and brushed off her blue floral mumu by force of habit rather than necessity. She had worn that mumu since before I can remember, though now the color brought out permanent bruises on her legs she’d earned from years of yard work. Grandma scratched her cheek and said, “The nurses came in and stood at the door and listened. The curtain was around the bed, so all I could see was their feet, but I knew they were there. I knew. Even though I am not a singer, and forgot lots of the words, and made them up as I went along, we were ministering to the nurses, mom and me.”

I didn’t cry over Granny. Tears welled up in my eyes upon viewing her casket, but, still, I held them back. Grandma was preparing the funeral, and I decided I would help in any way I could. Most of that meant keeping Grandma company, but Dad and I decided to do the hardest job for her: check on Granny’s body. We went to the mortuary to see Granny in her bed and make sure she was prepped right. It was an old fashioned building. The siding was whitewashed, and there was a covered porch with two double-doors leading inside. Dad examined the pamphlets for the ceremony. I examined the dark forest green carpet holding me up. Dad asked questions about the casket. I questioned the purpose of anything more than a wooden box. Dad hid a few tears when he finally saw Granny’s skin held together by preserving chemicals. I hid mine too as I stared at Granny’s bright red lips, wanting nothing more than to hear them “pft pft pft” their way through a card game.

The funeral was magnificent. People from all over the country came to celebrate Granny’s life. It was a huge family reunion –in fact, we were having a reunion that weekend in memorium. Random third cousins and twice removed aunts surfaced and introduced themselves to me as “the other family.” My dad and uncles led the service. Grandma said, “God is so good and encourages and gives us comfort in times of sorrow.” My sister read a poem entitled “Lighthouse.” My brother played a song. I spectated. Everyone was cheering at the end of the service because of all she had done for the hundreds of people there. I’m not romanticising her death, this actually happened. After the funeral, my cousins and I played some basketball. I made a few baskets, but mostly just blocked shots.

The next day we had to put Granny in the ground. All of the random relatives had gone or couldn’t make her burial. In fact, the only people beside me on the dark green grass were my grandma, grandpa, and twin sister, Logan. And the guy who operates the machinery. Grandpa read from Psalm 23, crying the whole way through it as the wind messed with his comb over and rustled the pages of his little black book.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.”

Logan was looking mostly at the ground, though I don’t blame her because the the sky was overcast. She was holding herself, and keeping as still as any other time I could remember. Grandma was staring at the gold-adorned casket with white roses on the cover. She had this look of finality on her face, and another of confusion. I didn’t know why she was confused though. There was nothing left to do; it was finished, as they say.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.”

I wasn’t sure where to look, or what to do. My eyes moved from person to person. I knew I didn’t want to touch anyone, and I didn’t want anyone to touch me. It was time to be alone with them. To not feel anyone, perhaps because Granny wasn’t going to feel us anymore. I found comfort only in my Grandpa’s voice reading Psalm 23.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

As Granny was being lowered into the ground, Grandma, Grandpa, Logan, and I walked down the newly paved country road to the church. Grandma was quiet, an unusual sensation. I couldn’t help but focus on the darkened street.

“Amen.”

Pulsar

We feel light in mornings and make dew

until afternoons.

The sunset seems bitter —

a reflection of bleeding red scars

in memoriam of waking with the sunrise.

 

So, I’ll send over the moon and you send me the stars

to soften the night and prove it’s our own

(All happiness comes

from singing stars –pulsars

broadcasting lullabies through silences of space and time).

A Short Story

 

Sitting on a brown-flecked pony, she rides at six,

unaware of the crash of ‘29 until her neighbor jumps

out of a fifth story window.

 

And one of her brothers slices her right ring finger.

Holding the tiny carcass, she races home. “Who

did it?” But she won’t tell –she never tells; it was an accident.

 

A simple kiss scurries to matrimony

after her father is drafted, but before she moves away

to a secluded farmhouse.

 

Then the wailing of her first born, Dorris, my grandmother,

bleeds into the wailing of her second, Steve, my great-uncle.

They grow up and marry residents of the same town.

 

Soon grandchildren, three and two, and great

grandchildren –at least eight– play cards

with her while she mumbles through numbers and suits.

 

She dies at eighty-nine

in a lemon-scented hospital room.

 

Four of us ignore the rain

as her carcass is lowered into the ground.

The road looks blacker when it’s wet.

The grass looks greener, too.

Open Letter to the IWU President

Dear Dr. Wright,

I would like thank you for what you have done since your term on campus began. You have opened the door for LGBT people to be recognized, you have supported international and domestic diverse students, and you have been a kind, levelheaded man in the face of criticism. I thank you for your candor and thoughtfulness in those times. For these reasons, you have gained my respect as an administrator. Know that respect is not lost in this protest.

However, the fact that the governor of Indiana, Mike Pence, is the speaker for the graduation commencement horrifies me. Not only does he support discriminatory and unloving (thus unbiblical) legislation, he brings a political view that I, and many other students on campus (see appendix), do not agree with. Based on his legislature, he is not a good fit to represent IWU. He is openly against IWU ideals in terms of LGBT safety, The Wesleyan Church, and the Marion Community.

First, Governor Pence has been openly against the LGBT+ community for at least the last 16 years. This should concern IWU as Dr. Wright promised to make the LGBT+ students feel safer on campus. Hosting someone so avidly against my LGBT family in Christ perpetuates hate and fear into LBGT+ students’ hearts. In 2000, Pence advocated for the spending of funds to be removed from LGBT+ friendly programs and placed into conversion therapy programs. Studies have shown (Faith in America, The Human Rights Campaign, Wetzstein) that conversion therapy has been extremely harmful to LGBT individuals, and often led to suicide (not to mention, it doesn’t work (Merritt)). What’s worse, Pence used fear mongering to scare people into thinking it will help defend against AIDS. Pence also is, and has always been, openly against same-sex marriage and even same-sex civil unions. He passed the Referendum last year, which made it easier for minorities (particularly LGBT+) to be discriminated against on the false pretense that selling cake to gay people is a sin. How can IWU claim they want to make the school feel safer for LGBT+ students when they call on speakers like Pence?

Second, Governor Pence was against bringing Syrian Refugees to Indiana. This on the surface may seem harmless to IWU, but I assure you, that isn’t the case. For one, Pence was brought to court for the constitutionality of his refugee ban. On February 29^th, federal judge Tanya Walton Pratt, ruled that Pence’s order was unconstitutional and discriminatory against Syrian people based on their home country. Pratt referenced the 14^th amendment and civil rights laws for her ruling (The Economist). Why would IWU want to be associated with someone who is considered discriminatory? Further, the Wesleyan church also took an official stance on the Syrian refugees when General Superintendent Dr. Jo Anne Lyon said, “In these days our faith must be greater than our fear and we must courageously continue to follow the teachings of Scripture to welcome the stranger.” Pence is not only consciously ignoring scripture based on human fear, but he also doesn’t support this Wesleyan stance.

And finally, third, Governor Pence supported moving funds to private and charter schools, leaving public schools strapping for cash. Indiana House Democratic Leader Scott Pelath said, “The governor prefers to drain resources from the classrooms where most of our kids learn. Instead, a substantial chunk of his plan leaks dollars away from most of our sons and daughters.” Whether this will be good for the state or not is inconsequential for this letter. What is important is that this proposal takes money from lower-class public schools in Marion that really need the money for students to grow. It also gives incentives to schools with higher grades. But without funding, it is much harder to develop substantial programs to help students achieve those grades. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy: poorer school districts tend to lead to worse grades, which leads to less funding from the government. Inviting Governor Pence to speak is like a slap in Marion’s face. Aren’t we supposed to be world changers? We should start at home.

Governor Mike Pence is not IWU material, and should not be allowed to represent IWU. I don’t want my family to be subject to his ideology, and I don’t want to spend my graduation day stewing over the harmful things he has done with his legislature. I also don’t want my LGBT brothers and sisters to feel unsafe in a place that should be for celebration. I want my commencement speaker to give me hope for the next chapter of my life. I want my commencement speaker to be someone I admire, who I strive to be. Governor Pence is not that person. Please consider changing the speaker to someone more politically neutral. See the appendix for more student letters to this same effect.

With Regards,

Luke Garfield

————————————————————————–

Appendix

Beth Stilley:

I have recently learned that Governor Mike Pence is set to be the graduation speaker this semester for IWU. I was shocked by this news, and as a graduating senior, I feel it is my prerogative to say that IWU should not invite the Governor as our commencement speaker.

I believe that Governor Pence is entitled to his own political beliefs and personal opinions; however, as a commencement speaker, he is making a statement that will reflect on the senior class as a whole, and, as a politically aware student, I know that his policies do not reflect my beliefs as a Christ-follower. Governor Pence has repeatedly shown that he is not loving or respectful toward minorities, particularly the LGBT community. I would like to remind the school that we have many LGBT students, and some of them are bound to be graduating this semester. Even though it may not seem like that big a portion of the IWU community, I would not want someone whose beliefs harm any of my fellow students to speak for us as a whole.

I urge the IWU community to reconsider what the implications behind Governor Pence speaking at commencement would mean for us as a body, and how much it would mean to students whose lives are personally negatively affected by political decisions the Governor has made. I am certain we can invite someone to speak at our graduation who really does share the same values of love and Christ-centered-ness our school promotes.

Carrie:

This is a letter stating my disappointment in regards to Governor Mike Pence as the commencement speaker at this year’s April graduation ceremony. I urge you to reconsider this decision, as I do not believe that the Governor’s political views align with many of the students and faculty at IWU. IWU should not choose a representative based on political stance but on faith alone. Governor Pence’s policies undermine that which is most sacred to the Christian Faith; that is uplifting those who are discriminated against and speaking for those who have no voice. Governor Pence has repeatedly shown discriminatory and un-Christ-like behavior towards the LGBTQ community. This is an issue because there are many people at IWU who identify within the LGBTQ community, and there will definitely be graduates at this ceremony who are are a part of that community. I don’t believe IWU wishes to offend any of its students, and for that reason I believe we should choose someone who reflects the Christ-like values that IWU claims to uphold. Thank you for your consideration.

Becca Brunner:

Dear administration,

I am a senior graduating this April and I do not feel comfortable having Governor Mike Pence representing me or my 4 years of work here at IWU at the upcoming graduation ceremony. Thousands of friends, family members and loved ones will be watching this ceremony and I do not want any of them to get the impression that I or this school, which I believe to be quite loving in most cases, is represented by someone who supports so much discrimination and judgmental behavior – which are characteristics distinctly un-Christian. While the administration and even many of the members of this community may not outright support the LGBTQ+ community, I truly believe that it is our duty as Christians to love and accept others no matter what, and denying people legal rights for religious reasons does not sound like loving and acceptance. I am not suggesting that we need to oppose or denounce Governor Pence’s ideals or decisions, but there are many other less controversial Christian representatives that could speak equally well at this event, and I think it would be safer in both a political sense as well as a gesture of love and respect towards our students and their families that someone who better represents Christ-like love speak on our behalf. I appreciate your time and consideration with this concern.

Jessica Dugdale:

When I learned that Governor Pence has been scheduled as IWU’s Spring graduation commencement speaker, I was frustrated, confused, and hurt. I’m a fourth year student at IWU, and I’m shocked and disappointed by this decision on many levels. My frustration isn’t limited to politics alone, although I must mention that not every student or faculty member at IWU is a registered Republican, let alone approving of Governor Pence’s political decisions in particular. And that’s okay. This is how communities work; we grow stronger in large part because we aren’t all the same. We ought to recognize such diversity of ideology as a manifestation of the creativity and grace of God.

With that side note out of the way, I feel compelled to share from my own personal experience why I see this decision as harmful to our larger community. During Governor Pence’s time in office, he has not been an example of one who uses his voice and resources to serve “the least of these,” which is supposed to be a deeply valued characteristic in our Christian community. On the contrary, due in large part to many of his decisions and actions in office, the state of Indiana now has a reputation for being anti-gay, anti-trans, and anti-women (just to name a few issues). Politics aside, we need to remember that Pence’s reputation and history DOES matter to the IWU community and to many who are graduating this semester. Too often, we look at political policy as nothing more than names scribbled on paper, but Pence’s political actions DO affect individuals in real, raw, everyday ways. If I’m going to live in Indiana, I fear the ways my life will be different because of the policies he has put in place. Here’s why.

I’ve questioned my sexuality and gender extensively throughout my time in college. And at this point, I can say without fear that I am different. I am a part of the LGBT community. But I’m also part of a faith community. And, of course, I’m not the only one at IWU or broader Christianity. I know and love many Christians who also identify as a part of the LGBT community. This matters, and the knowledge that we are real and present in this community should be a factor in deciding who to invite as our commencement speaker. We aren’t asking anyone to change their personal views on our sexuality or gender expression, but we do ask that IWU consider the ways a highly public and problematic figure like Pence cannot and should not in any way represent our university or commencement ceremony.

IWU believes that we are all loved by a gracious God. Male or female, black or white, gay or straight, republican or democrat. Such love has no limits. Shouldn’t our commencement speaker be one who echoes this message? How can we justify Governor Pence speaking at our university when so many of us feel he does not represent Christ-like values?

Our of respect for our community, I join with those who are urging IWU to reverse this decision and find a speaker who is going to bring Christians closer to one another and to our brothers and sisters outside the doors of our churches. 

Dominique Clements:

Someone who actively seeks to discriminate against any social group, minority or not, is not someone I want representing my graduation. Especially not at a university who claims to be unapologetically Christ-centered. Because, if we are unapologetic followers of Christ, that should be mean we are unapologetically loving, and Mr. Pence is anything but.

Sarah:

I don’t know enough about Governor Pence to say a lot other than as an individual identifying on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, who works closely with students who may identify as LGBTQIA+, I cannot, in good conscience, condone IWU’s decision.

While I understand and respect the University’s right not to encourage or agree with those who identify as LGBTQIA+, I cannot stand by idly as the commencement speaker sends my graduating class into the world to love like Christ, but whose actions do not resemble the love of Christ that I know to be good and perfect. The verse of the year my freshman year, Romans 12:2 states that we should make our bodies a “living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God,” that we are to be “transformed by the renewing of [our] mind, so that [we] may prove what the will of God is, that which is good acceptable, and perfect…” By approving Governor Pence as the commencement speaker, we say to the world that we will conform, not to God’s will and command for love, but to the “Christian” and worldly belief that when we feel threatened, we must penalize those from whom we feel a threat.

The “Christian” church, in today’s world, is not transformed by God into a community seeking the will of God–which for His followers is love, not judgment–rather, it has conformed to the business of seeking recognition.