Holy cow, I’m organizing a religion.

I know I’m a bit of a latecomer. It’s 2000 years since some Arameans invented Dead-Guy-On-a-Stick as a rallying symbol for those who’d like to love their neighbours. I mean, how kinky is that? Yea, express hope for eventual peace and get nailed up in the sun to croak. The first 666 takers will receive a bonus crown of thorns.

There are other religions, of course, but most either seem to have a Grumpy Dad with a Beard as a symbol, or they require the sort of diaphanous gowns that I am unlikely to be caught wearing even while singing hymns to the moon. And then there’s the “Do what thou wilt be the whole of the law” aggravated solipsism number. That lawlessness is fine for me, but I’m not too sure about thee. Your religion dictates that it’s okay to steal? Back off! Acquire thine own sandwich!

My spanking new deity for this upcoming religion? The Lesbian/Bi womens’ Community. Now, wait, don’t run off, you won’t have to attend potluck dinners. Well, not many. You can bring the tofu-sprout salad.

For the theologians, this deity’s divine nature can be split into two parts: ideological and functional.

Ideologically our community consists of all those people who we perceive to share our own sexual orientation (women loving women) as a full part of their life. We speak of the greater, ideological community when we require a rallying point on a humanitarian, legal or political matter. I’m feeling more spiritual already!

Functionally, we find ourselves narrowing the community to those who are publicly connected with ourselves, also defined by our geographical closeness, or our willingness to purchase airplane tickets. When we discuss who’s about to receive an invite to our play party, or consider who we might ask for a date, we’re talking about functional community.

The internet helps us communicate with other community members, often at the expense of real human interaction and life experience. Anyone who is involved with the womens’ community in a manner solely electronic can not be considered a part of the functional congregation — unless we are waving the bugbear of our grand and diverse and multitudinous ideological community in some politico’s face, whereupon we will claim each of our quiet sisters in a hot second. In keeping with the basic tenets of my new religion, we can do some outreach to these online sisters of ours, and perhaps earn the Sacred Toaster Oven of Recruitment.

Back when I was an irreligious unbeliever, I used to say that there is no such animal as community. For each of us there’s simply “my friends”, and “my friends’ friends”, and after that it gets all fuzzy. Broad-minded sorts might include “people who might be my friends one day” but hardly anyone can bring themselves to really be inclusive. But now I’ve got a religion to… er… spread.

And look at the advantages to both worshipping and belonging to Community!

With so many various sub-communities already in existence, we shall have to name each one as a religious subsect. Any religion I’m in must have really a lot of sects, to keep me happy. We will have Lesbian Sects, Local Group Sects, and Hot Bi Babe Sects. There will be sects for each and every one of you.

Some of the focal points of community are places like bars or coffee houses, queer centers, sex toy stores, plus of course, for the kinky, the ubiquitous BDSM events in public dungeons. Since our community is our religion, all of these spaces are holy, and I’ve put in a request to the Canadian government for tax breaks. Those grrls who regularly hold potlucks may also apply.

Community is free to join, but does take upkeep. You have to believe and –even harder — you have to do something, and keep doing something. This religion will never be handed to you on stone tablets, you make it happen yourself. You get religion by putting your time and energy and perhaps a few dollars into supporting les/bi events and groups. Holiness comes to those who choose to build their sisters up, instead of divide and tear down. Your path to sainthood is in always speaking and acting towards lezzies and bi women and leatherdykes and trannygirls as though Community really exists. Because then it will.

Sure, my religion requires blind faith – but only at the very start. I’ve got a considerable advantage on the more established organized religions, as my religion is the only one which stops being imaginary once we have enough determined and community-minded grrls in the congregation. I’m all set to be the guru for this religion of community, and I’m just crossing my fingers, hoping that I don’t get nailed to anything.

– end –

Elaine Miller supports a small herd of cats, which she stoutly maintains comprises her Writer’s Mews.