This week many Christians around the world are walking through Holy Week; a time when we remember the walk of Jesus toward Jerusalem where he would be killed by the state as a threat to their power. 

Every year we tell these same stories. Every year we enact the same rituals. Sometimes we might wonder “why bother?” What good does this re-telling do? What are rituals even for?

The other week I read a book that was originally written in 1973 by Larry Mitchell. It’s called “The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions.” It’s a slim volume. Part allegory and part aphorisms the book talks about The Faggots and The Women and The Queens and how they resist the world of the men. 

One of the quotes made me gasp when I read it: “And they love them so much that they tell the old stories over and over and then they act them out and then, as the ultimate tribute, they allow their lives to re-create those obscure parts of the past. The pain of fallen women and the triumph of defeated women are constantly and lovingly made flesh again. The destruction of witty faggots and the militancy of beaten faggots are constantly and lovingly made flesh again. And so these parts of the past are never lost. They are imprinted in the bodies of the faggots where the men cannot go.” (pg 13)

This is ritual!!

Christians are not the only people who tell the old stories over and over again. Queer and trans people do as well. And there is something about not only telling the stories, but putting them into our bodies that makes a difference.

The rituals of Holy Week; Waving palms on Palm Sunday, washing each other’s feet on Maundy Thursday, stripping the altar on Good Friday, the silence and bare spaces of Holy Saturday, the shouting of “Alleluias” on Easter Sunday; these rituals put the stories in our bodies. When we walk through the stations of the cross, we are putting the stories into our bodies.

So, too, when we walk in a Pride parade or light a candle on Transgender Day of Remembrance. Or when we dance at a drag show or part take in theatre productions that tell our stories. When we join together in an embrace or sex or on a dance floor, we are putting these stories into our bodies. 

Later on in the book The Faggots impart some of the wisdom that they received from The Women and it’s wisdom that echoes the Jesus story and resounds in our current moment. First: “There are two important things to remember about the coming revolutions. The first is that we will get our asses kicked. The second is that we will win.” (pg 21)

When we walk with Jesus toward Jerusalem we remember that he got his ass kicked. The Empire tortured him and then killed him. This was a real, physical, death. He was not spared the pain. He suffered. 

When we look at the history of queer and trans people (and the things we are currently experiencing) there are many of us who have gotten our asses kicked, literally and politically. We honor and remember so many of our beloved dead. 

And yet, we believe we will win. The book goes on to say “Getting your ass kicked and then winning elevated the entire enterprise of making revolution.” (pg 21) There is something in these ancient stories that remind us what and who we are fighting for. And in our belief in winning we are emboldened to do whatever we need to do to make the revolution that will make us liberated happen. 

That is the story of Jesus, a story we reenact this week. That is the queer and trans story, a story we live in our bodies. And these stories and rituals aren’t just things we do. They aren’t just traditions. They aren’t just trite or cute or nostalgic, they are helping us to feel the revolution in our bodies. They are giving us a muscle memory of hope and resistance and resilience and revolution. 

We might get our asses kicked, but we will win. And we will do it together.