Open Access
Published: June 2026
Licence: CC BY-NC-4.0
Issue: Vol.21, No.1
Word count: 6,654
About the author
An arts-based exploration of queer Christian identity
Linley Smith
Abstract
This paper is an arts-based autoethnography exploring queer Christian identity. I share my own journey toward identity integration, provide an overview of the literature regarding queer Christian identity, and draw on object relations theory to make sense of my experience and how creative practice can support this process. I also consider the importance of intrapersonal and interpersonal safety in connecting with the authentic self.
Keywords
Queer, Christian, identity, arts-based research, integration, object relations theory
Cite this article Smith, L. (2026). An arts-based exploration of queer Christian identity. JoCAT, 21(1). https://www.jocat-online.org/a-26-smith
Figure 1. Linley Smith, Research process, 2024, watercolour on printer paper, 297 × 210mm.
Introduction
This paper emerged from the research unit of a Master of Creative Arts Therapies course in 2024. I had initially hoped to conduct interviews with other queer Christians and was disappointed that this was not possible, but was encouraged by the interest and support the potential project received. The autoethnographic path made evident a personal tendency to avoid my own emotional work by busying myself with that of others. I found the process to be both uncomfortable and enlightening.
In this paper, the term Christian refers to “persons who self-identify with Christianity as their religion, spiritual experience, or affiliation” (Cole & Harris, 2017, p.33). The term queer has been used as an umbrella term for people who have diverse sexuality, sex and/or gender. “Previously used as a slur against gay and lesbian individuals, the term queer has been reclaimed in recent years by individuals who resist a dichotomous view of gender and sexuality” (Levy & Reeves, 2011, p.56). The term queer can also be used as a verb in that “We ‘queer’ cultural symbols, disrupt and interfere with the valued symbols encoding heterosexist/homophobic power and oppression” (Goss 1996, p.250). LGBTQIA+ is an acronym standing for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, intersex, asexual plus other diverse sexuality, sex and gender identities not explicitly named. The acronym may appear in whole or part.
Figure 2. Linley Smith, Autoethnography, mixed media, 183 × 170mm.
“Autoethnography is a qualitative method – it offers nuanced, complex, and specific knowledge about particular lives, experiences, and relationships rather than general information about large groups of people” (Adams et al., 2015, p.21) and “as a method, autoethnography is both process and product” (Ellis et al., 2011, p.273). It challenges the false dichotomy of research and experience, the latter can offer a unique contribution to the advancement of understanding but requires a level of vulnerability from the researcher (Steadman, 2023). I experienced this vulnerability as the prospect of publication became a reality and I questioned whether what I was offering had value, whether I was ready to be known in this way and the potential consequences that could result. I was encouraged to find that my concerns were common and that I was not alone. Autoethnography requires the emotional labour of the researcher in considering what and how much to share of their self, the potential impact on those close to them and their career moving forward as well as preparing for a broad variety of responses that are out of their control but may feel deeply personal (Boncori, 2022; Steadman, 2023). While there are potential risks, it can be a therapeutic and transformative undertaking that can utilise the productive potential of vulnerable spaces and increase visibility and understanding (Custer, 2014; Pillay, 2023; Rozitis, 2025). I hope that sharing my arts-based research journey will be validating for some and thought provoking for others. I have chosen to include an overview of the literature as this was an essential aspect of my process and may be informative for those less familiar with the topic.
Arts-based research (ABR) is “an approach to research that exploits the capacities of expressive form to capture qualities of life that impact what we know and how we live” (Barone & Eisner, 2012, p.5). ABR can elicit information that is inaccessible through other methods of research. It can challenge dominant narratives by sharing the experiences of silenced or marginalised groups, inviting readers to question and explore alternative perspectives without prescribing a particular alternative narrative (Barone & Eisner, 2012). Visual art is particularly useful in exploring identity and marginalised groups. Images can economically communicate complex and layered ideas, simultaneously portray the whole and its parts, increase empathic understanding, compel the consideration of alternative perspectives and inspire social action (Holm et al., 2017). “ABR practices are a set of methodological tools used by researchers across the disciplines during any or all phases of research, including data generation, analysis, interpretation, and representation” (Leavy, 2009, p.ix). I engaged in art-making throughout the research process to discern a topic, generate data, respond to literature, capture personal experience and organise data. I have incorporated some quotes and past images that have been significant and relevant parts of my journey thus far.
Figure 3. Linley Smith, New lease of life, textiles, 743 × 300mm.
Note. This photo depicts my first attempt at visible mending which occurred while determining the research topic. I loved the shorts so much but the expanding rips meant they became unwearable. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away so, with the fabric of another beloved item, I patched them up with some additional needlework. I found the rhythmic process of sewing to be soothing and the sense of accomplishment gratifying. I realised that, as I went to present the final product to others, my inherent love for the item meant I did not care what others thought of it. They were entitled to their opinion but, where in the past that would have dictated whether I wore them or not, I already planned to wear them regardless. I still wear them today. I couldn’t have known at the time but it seemed that this epiphany foreshadowed some of the learnings from my research.
A bit about me
I am a cisgender, queer, Christian woman. I would not have always described myself in this way.
I grew up in the local Baptist church where my parents had attended since they were children. Our family was heavily involved in church life and I have fond memories of church growing up, feeling like it was an extension of my family and a place where I belonged. Social justice and unconditional love were key aspects of my faith for as long as I can remember and have been fundamental principles underlying various decisions along my journey.
I started to question my experience of the church at around ten years of age, noticing some inconsistencies between what was said and what was done, what was preached and what was actioned. This led to disillusionment. There seemed to be an attitude of ‘we have the truth, everyone else has it wrong and we need to save them’, even amongst the Christian denominations (e.g., the Catholics put too much emphasis on Mary, the Anglicans don’t baptise by immersion, the Pentecostals are driven by their emotions), which I never understood. I thought, surely we had more in common than not and maybe we could learn something from others.
My first recollection of encountering an intersection of my religion and homosexuality was the realisation that a family member was in a same-sex relationship. While my church said that homosexuality was a sin and would lead to hell, I couldn’t reconcile this position with my experience of my relative ,whom I loved and who behaved more like Jesus than a lot of people in my church. I became aware of another significant intersection when the Christian Union group I attended during my undergraduate studies discussed a case study of how a transgender person would ‘become a Christian’. The proposed response was that the person would need to return to the gender and name they were assigned at birth because that’s how God had created them, despite having lived longer as the opposite gender. I thought, if someone was born without a limb, the church would not suggest that the person refuse a prosthetic because that was how God made them, so why would they insist that someone stay in the wrong body? The proposed response did not sit well with me, and I sought the opinion of a trusted, more experienced Christian who upheld my concerns.
Purity culture had a significant impact on my sexual development and relationships with myself and others. As a teenager, I began to notice feelings and attractions toward women and non-binary folk, which I ignored and repressed along with my sexuality in general. This was easy to do as I was still attracted to men, passed as straight and believed that sex was for marriage. It was harder to do when I fell in love for the first time and that person wasn’t male.
Figure 4. Linley Smith, The shell, 2022, pen on writing paper, 297 × 210mm.
Creativity, compassion and curiosity
During a creative writing exercise, I explored my queer identity and found it to be beautiful and neglected (see Figure 4). I engaged the fundamentalist Christian part of myself and the queer part of myself in a dialogue and found my unconscious self to be much more compassionate than I consciously believed it to be (see Figure 8). This creative exploration was significant, and I was intrigued and perplexed by how the two identities could coexist in one body. I came to some level of acceptance but I was curious about the experience of others and took the opportunity to follow my curiosity through the arts-based research project.
I wanted to know how others had integrated the two, seemingly contradictory, identities. Integration is a developmental task and ongoing process initiated by anxiety which moves an individual toward a new level of maturity that may be experienced as being more whole (Spillius & Hinshelwood, 2010). I felt it was important to investigate as it has been a point of tension that has resulted in much harm to queer Christians who may experience what O’Brien (2004) terms ‘double stigma’, marginalisation in both Christian and queer communities. These experiences of marginalisation can lead to isolation, depression, anxiety, internalised homophobia, self‐hatred, suicidal ideation, self-harm, suicide, family conflict, homelessness, substance abuse, eating disorders, and even physical health consequences (Hillier et al., 2008; Jennings, 2018; Kaunda & Alubafi, 2022; Moon & Tobin, 2018; Murr, 2013; Pietkiewicz & Kołodziejczyk-Skrzypek, 2016; Snow, 2018; Subhi & Geelan, 2012). While I was fortunate to be spared from the more severe effects of marginalisation, I felt an inner conflict, an uncomfortable level of inauthenticity and a sense that I couldn’t belong to either community. There were parts of me that could not be expressed which left me feeling disconnected from myself and others. I longed to feel authentic and whole.
As I delved into the literature, I felt affirmed, fascinated and devastated. I was pleasantly surprised at how much literature was available and to realise there were others who had integrated a queer Christian identity; however, it was confronting to read about the discrimination, rejection and harm experienced by so many. I felt guilty and ashamed that I had managed to avoid a lot of this in my journey by being straight-passing, cisgendered and able to ignore parts of my sexuality for a significant period of time. I questioned whether my advocacy for LGBTQIA+ people prior to acknowledgment of my sexuality was unconsciously self-protective and I had deluded myself into thinking my more inclusive position was right when it was wrong. Growing up in the church that I did, I learnt that believing the right thing was important, unquestioning certainty was faithful, and that the spirit was ‘good’ but the body and emotions would lead you astray; so I have wrestled with varying interpretations, conflicting information and my own felt sense. When making a choice between my belief system and loving others, I tended to adapt my belief system, because if God is love then it makes sense to err on the side of love. Whenever I made such choices, I felt a deep sense of alignment, peace and freedom. When I encounter inclusion, peace, social justice and joy in the world I feel a resonance in my being.
Queer Christian identity: An overview of the research
There has been research into the experiences of queer Christians in various contexts. Many articles highlight the conflict and challenges individuals experience but also note their identity as an act of defiance and the impact of their presence on their wider community. A number of articles suggest much can be gained from learning from queer Christians but little has been done to explore and celebrate these identities. Robertson (2017) argues that queer Christian lived experiences need to be seen and heard. Hollier et al. (2022) call for research into positive aspects of queer Christian identity and coping mechanisms that may be useful in supporting others in their journey.
The literature reveals a diverse range of experiences and expressions of queer Christianity and offers a number of ways that integrated queer Christianity can occur. Key concepts that stand out for me are identity conflict or lack thereof, the importance of context, the challenge or reinforcement of heteronormativity (“the assumption that heterosexuality is the standard for defining normal sexual behavior and that male–female differences and binary gender roles are the natural and immutable essentials in normal human relations” [American Psychological Association, n.d.]), catalysts and processes of integration and social justice as a cause and effect of integration.
Identity conflict
During the formulation of my research question, I became aware of an assumption based on my own experience that queer Christians would inevitably experience identity conflict. Rodriguez and Ouellette (2000) note the presence of the assumption and identify four strategies used to deal with conflict between religious and sexual identity, namely, rejecting the religious identity, rejecting the homosexual identity, compartmentalisation, and identity integration. However, both Schuck and Liddle (2001) and Subhi and Geelan (2012) found a proportion of their respondents did not experience conflict at all. The fact that some people experience no conflict between their Christian and queer identities was difficult for me to comprehend, but I was pleased to find that it was within the spectrum of experience.
Context
Contextual factors play an important role in identity integration and expression (Pietkiewicz & Kołodziejczyk-Skrzypek, 2016). Not surprisingly, research has found that queer Christians brought up with strong religious backgrounds experienced more identity conflict than those who were not (Couch et al., 2008) and that those in more rejecting environments, or who had past experience of rejecting environments, were more likely to experience distress and internalised homonegativity than those without a religious background at all (Sowe et al., 2014). Internalised homonegativity is the “process whereby lesbian, gay, and bisexual (LGB) persons internalize societal messages toward gender and sex – often unconsciously – as part of their self-image” (Berg et al., 2016, p.541).
On the other hand, those who grew up in an affirming church were more likely to stay in church and were also more likely to perceive non-affirming or rejecting messages to be from people rather than from God (Crockett et al., 2018), suggesting an affirming environment may be a protective factor against internalised homonegativity. Crockett et al. (2018) studied the impact of religious upbringing on the religious and sexual identity development of 25 gay and lesbian people and found that non-affirming experiences led to identity suppression, tolerant experiences led to compartmentalisation, and affirming experiences led to integration, which supports the idea that context plays a significant role in identity development.
Fuist (2016) suggests that the construction and expression of identity is dependent on the agency of subjects and the sociotemporal context they inhabit. He found participants adopted three approaches to the intersection of their sexuality and faith: reconcilers worked to integrate a conflict between the two identities, selectives did not experience personal identity conflict but were concerned about the reactions of others, and integratives did not experience conflict or have concerns about the reactions of others (Fuist, 2016).
Challenging or reinforcing heteronormativity
Something I found somewhat surprising in the literature was the strict heteronormative gender roles upheld by churches. It was interesting that, in many cases, it seemed that conforming to gender norms was even more of an issue than sexuality, which may allude to the source of the opposition to homosexuality. Complementarian theology, the idea that men and women are inherently different and complete each other, underlies almost all arguments against gay unions, a stance that Hollier (2019) argues is unfounded.
A number of studies found that while there was acceptance of diverse sexuality in various churches, gender norms were reinforced through practices such as gendered seating, gendered church roles, conforming to masculine and feminine gender binaries and idealisation of heteronormative relationships, simultaneously challenging and reinforcing complementarianism (Golomski, 2020; Sibisi & Van der Walt, 2021; Woodell et al., 2015). Additionally, Trzebiatowska (2009) juxtaposed the experiences of nuns and lesbians in Poland and found that both groups experienced a ‘coming out’ process and various degrees of social stigma for not conforming to traditional female norms i.e. becoming a wife and a mother. I found this fascinating considering one would assume that becoming a nun would be an admirable vocation in a Catholic society. It highlights the pervasiveness of heteropatriarchal dynamics and the challenge of creating an environment that is inclusive of a particular group without creating boundaries that exclude others. Heteropatriarchy refers to “the social, political and economic system in which heterosexual men are the dominant group in a society or culture” (Kelley & Arce-Trigatti, 2021, p.256).
Moon and Tobin (2018) offer the term ‘sacramental shame’ to describe the elevation of heteronormativity to the sacred, which relegates those who violate it and requires them to show constant displays of shame to prove their love of God and maintain their community standing. Levy and Lo (2013) observed that transgender, transexual and genderqueer participants in their study found a personal relationship with God was the only option to practice their faith as they could not find a church they felt comfortable attending. However, in creating a personalised faith they challenge gender binaries and dismiss the concept that people cannot be both gender non-conforming and Christian. Queer Christians challenge heteropatriarchal norms, arguably as Jesus did in his time, by occupying the liminal space between the oppressors and the oppressed, masculinity and femininity (Isherwood, 2001).
Figure 5. Linley Smith, Binaries are unnatural,2024, acrylic on canvas board, 384 × 360mm.
Integration
I was particularly interested in how queer and Christian identities are able to be integrated, and identified a number of factors discussed in the literature, namely, connection to other queer Christians, questioning doctrine and engaging with the text, making a distinction between the church and God, and developing a personalised and affirming faith.
Relationships with people who supported LGBT religious identity expression are an important resource in the construction and expression of queer Christian identity (Fuist, 2016). Undergoing a personal process of deconstructing and reconstructing faith and solitarily developing a queer Christian identity before connecting with others was a common experience (Murr, 2013; O’Brien, 2004). Some catalysts for this integrative journey were reading relevant literature, developing self-acceptance, simply talking to other individuals, and even direct intervention by God (Rodriguez & Ouellette, 2000). Unsurprisingly, interactions with an affirmative faith group or family context were found to be beneficial and linked to psychological health (Hillier et al., 2008; Jasper, 2007; Lease et al., 2005; Sowe et al., 2014). It is important for queer Christians to have meaningful and supportive connections with other queer Christians and these can be found in affirming faith communities and a variety of support groups, some more public than others (Connell & Yates, 2021; Kaunda & Alubafi, 2022; Murr, 2013; Snow, 2018; Winder, 2015). That being said, some queer Christians choose to connect with faith communities that simply align with their beliefs, welcome them interpersonally and do not actively preach against homosexuality (Woodell et al., 2015), and other queer Christians find that a personal relationship with God is sufficient and do not find participation in a faith community necessary (Murr, 2013; Woodell et al., 2015).
Many studies reported that engagement with religious practices and the Bible increased when individuals experienced a conflict, some to repress or avoid their sexual identity (Levy & Reeves, 2011) and others to see for themselves what the Bible says (Hollier, 2019; Murr, 2013; Pietkiewicz & Kołodziejczyk-Skrzypek, 2016). Some questioned doctrine, stating it was based on Old Testament verses that were no longer relevant (Pietkiewicz & Kołodziejczyk-Skrzypek, 2016), others highlighted inconsistencies in which verses were or were not taken literally (Murr, 2013).
The coping strategy of separating the church from God seemed to be most prevalent for queer Christians who remained in non-affirming communities. Some considered the church to have institutionalised homophobia, refusing to question conservative interpretations and prejudice, which they found to be hypocritical if God’s teachings promote inclusivity, authenticity, social justice and accepting people for who they are (Connell & Yates, 2021) while others undermined the authority and morality of their priests (Pietkiewicz & Kołodziejczyk-Skrzypek, 2016; Pitt, 2010). This approach allows participants to remain in a religious community, but does not actively challenge the oppressive system. It is interesting that there are a number of examples of queer Christians who remain in these spaces rather than finding more affirmative spaces which could be a topic of further research.
Those who embraced both their sexual and religious identities described increased authenticity and personal integrity (Cole & Harris, 2017), encountering a more loving and accepting God than they were initially led to believe in (Murr, 2013) and coming to a deeper, stronger and more nuanced faith (Hollier et al., 2022; Murr, 2013; O’Brien, 2004; Schuck & Liddle, 2001). This was generally achieved through wrestling with contradictions and interrogating their belief systems (Hollier et al., 2022; O’Brien, 2004; Schuck & Liddle, 2001), accepting themselves as unconditionally loved by God (Kaunda & Alubafi, 2022; Van Klinken, 2015) and made in God’s image (Golomski, 2020; Moon & Tobin, 2018), and realising that homosexuality is not a choice, sometimes through significant attempts to change their sexual orientation (Jennings, 2023; Murr, 2013). Queer Christians are motivated by an ethic of authenticity, finding meaning in living the contradiction and considering it to be what makes them who they are (Fielder & Ezzy, 2018; O’Brien, 2004).
Social justice
Interestingly, numerous studies found that engaging in social justice initiatives was both a result of and contributing factor to integration. White and White (2004) note that the drive to fight for the rights of others helped participants to accept themselves and fight for their own rights through that struggle. Overcoming sacramental shame led to empathic understandings of other marginalised groups and inspired social justice participation (Moon & Tobin, 2018). Closeted gay priests’ identification with the marginalised ‘other’ and understanding of God’s love and inclusion of them supported the construction of a religious posture that challenged religious homophobia despite them not being open about their sexuality (Kaunda & Alubafi, 2022). Snow (2018) notes that queer Christian students identified LGBTQ outreach and advocacy as major aspects of identity integration.
Toward wholeness
To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us. (Keller & Keller, 2011, p.95)
While engaging with the literature, I reflected on some of the factors that have contributed to my own journey towards integration and made even the consideration that I could be both queer and Christian possible. My personal connection to someone who was queer and witnessing how my family treated them was a significant factor. It led me to explore the Bible verses used to justify the discrimination of queer people and to challenge that discrimination in my church community. Growing up, I was exposed to various worldviews, ways of being and different denominations, which prompted curiosity, working through challenges and re-evaluating my faith. Though my church community was not particularly receptive to questions or doubts, I was fortunate to have parents and others with whom I felt safe to have these discussions. I left the church I grew up in and found an affirming church community that supported further connection with my whole self. Through work, I developed a strong friendship with someone from the queer community and found that engaging in open dialogue led each of us to gain a richer understanding and connection to both our religious and queer identities in ways that may not have otherwise been possible. It was interesting to notice that I found it easier to accept that queer people were loved by God than it was to accept that I was loved by God as a queer person. I have realised the indoctrinated fear and judgement run deep within me and may take ongoing efforts to challenge with love, reducing the gap between my cognitive and embodied sense of acceptance.
I pondered the mechanisms and conditions required to support identity integration, and how that related to my personal experience and my creative arts practice. Throughout my studies, while learning about different psychological theories and concepts, I couldn’t help but draw parallels with my understanding of faith. Rogers’ (1957) unconditional positive regard sounded a lot like the unconditional love of God; Klein’s (1946) paranoid schizoid position like the fundamentalist, black and white doctrine I grew up with; Winnicott’s (1953) transitional space like my experience of deconstruction; and Bion’s (1961) basic assumption groups like church. In exploring identity, object relations theory seemed to make the most sense to me. Object relations theory is a psychoanalytic concept that claims that the development of personality is based on the relations of an individual with their significant others and their internal representations of these significant others (Beit-Hallahmi, 2009).
In her analysis of children, Klein (1946) proposed that the only defence that infants have in order to deal with anxiety and maintain contact with safety was psychological projection. She identified the paranoid schizoid position, depressive position, projective identification and introjection as states and processes that support the formation of an individual’s personality (Klein, 1946). The paranoid schizoid position is characterised by the binary splitting of the self and the object into good and bad parts (Spillius & Hinshelwood, 2010). Projective identification is an unconscious process that involves aspects of the self, positive or negative, being split off and attributed to an external other, sometimes inducing the other to feel or behave in ways that align with that aspect of self, while introjection is the internalisation of an external aspect into the self (Spillius & Hinshelwood, 2010). The depressive position is characterised by an experience of guilt and grief at the realisation that the loved and hated objects are a whole other, separate from oneself, and an urge to repair the split by integrating the two leads to maturation through an increase in ego capacity, allowing a more realistic and rich perception of the world (Spillius & Hinshelwood, 2010).
Bion (1961) suggests that Klein’s theories could be applied to groups, stating that an individual may consider a group as another single entity rather than a collection of individuals. An individual may unconsciously project aspects of the self onto the group in order to manage their own anxiety, which disrupts the work of the group. One way in which this can manifest is group preservation, protecting the group from an enemy and creating a scapegoat when there is no external enemy. Alison (2001) illustrates this dynamic beautifully in his explanation of the story of the Gerasene demoniac, wherein the demoniac acted as the scapegoat for the townspeople and therefore his healing threatened the cohesion of the group. The townspeople projected their fears, inadequacies and evil onto the demoniac, who acted them out, which in turn appeared to justify his exclusion. This dynamic reinforced the ‘goodness’ of the townsfolk and the ‘badness’ of the demoniac. When the demoniac was healed, the ‘badness’ was no longer externalised, which meant the community then felt the anxiety it had been using projection to avoid. It is a dynamic that can be observed in various groups of people.
Growing up in the church that I did gave me a strong sense of what was good and bad and what made me good and bad. This could be likened to the paranoid schizoid position, where things are black and white. However, there comes a time when you encounter something that does not fit neatly into black and white or good and bad. Which box do you put something grey in? Do you put it in the box closest in colour? Do you put it in the black box to ensure all the white stays pure? Do you leave it out of the boxes altogether and pretend it doesn’t exist? Do you make a new box? When it comes to contradictions between my religious and sexual identities, I have acted out all of the above at various times, but I am most interested in the creation of a new box. This requires the painful process of destroying the old boxes in order to create a new one. There is a time when all you have is bits, and you grieve your nice black and white boxes as you try to piece together a new box that can hold black, white and grey things. This could be likened to the depressive position.
Figure 6. Linley Smith, Impoverished lens, 2016, oil pastel on cartridge paper, 297 × 420mm.
Note. I created this image in an attempt to capture the frustration and grief over the beauty that is missed when the world is viewed through a black-and-white lens. It also reminds me how perspective can affect how we interact with the world around us. In reflecting on this artwork, I was reminded of ‘One’ (Birdtalker, 2018) which is a song that portrays the tendency to categorise and separate and the power of realising that such distinctions are superficial (see Appendix for the lyric video).
As I went through a process of deconstructing my faith and came to a more inclusive reconstruction, I noticed that I began to ‘other’ people who held fundamentalist positions, and realised that I was holding my new position in the same way I was critical of them holding theirs. Hypocrisy was something to which I had a very strong emotional reaction and I realised it was because I struggled with the incongruence in myself. I had to acknowledge that I was once in that position and that it was a part of my journey. The paranoid schizoid position is essential for healthy development, as it allows the internalisation of good experiences to form a core in which to integrate contrasting experiences, not only playing an important role in infancy, but throughout the lifespan (Spillius & Hinshelwood, 2010). In stories of oppressor and oppressed we often align ourselves with the oppressed. As humans, we can equally align ourselves with the oppressor, although we tend to repress this shadow aspect of ourselves. It is in the identification with both positions that a subversive understanding of the mechanism of exclusion can be reached and a choice to not participate in this dynamic can be made (Alison, 2001). Psychological discomfort is necessary for transformation to occur; it is a shift from ‘knowing about’ to ‘becoming being’ that many people avoid (Killinger, 2009). I thought I had completed my deconstruction and reconstruction, but realised that this will be an ongoing process.
Figure 7. Linley Smith, First or final breath?, 2024, charcoal on cartridge paper, 210 × 297mm.
Note. I created this image after attending a funeral at the church I grew up in. It was the first time I had been there in many years and it was an emotionally charged experience for a number of reasons. The image depicts the overwhelming feelings, and also the ambivalence and conflict I felt. I’m still not sure whether the figure is emerging from the dark or being sucked into it. It captures both the fear of annihilation and the fight for liberation.
Humans have an innate biological and neurological need to belong, as, in early human history, being in a group promoted safety and increased chances of survival, while being rejected from a group could result in serious consequences for an individual (Allen, 2021). I think my judgement of those with a more conservative view was partly frustration at them not joining me in what I found to be a more liberating experience of faith. They may have also reflected the parts of myself that feared being wrong and going to hell. I felt that if they could join my group, I wouldn’t have to deal with the threat that their position posed to my being. However, the more self-accepting I become, the less I feel the need to convince others of my position. My self-acceptance has been supported by witnessing and engaging with others who accept me despite our differences. Encounters with other queer Christians have led me to consider that ‘if they’re ok, I might be ok’. While I have a cognitive acceptance of my identity, connecting with other people who embody this identity provides a more felt sense of acceptance. In environments where there is enough personal and environmental safety, contradictions and differences can become points of interest, the start of a discussion, or an invitation to go deeper, rather than a threat.
For Jewish readers, the tensions and questions produced by Scripture aren’t obstacles to be avoided, but rather opportunities for engagement, invitations to join in the Great Conversation between God and God’s people that has been going on for centuries and to which everyone is invited. (Held Evans, 2018, p.23)
This collectivist process of discussing contradictions communicates safety in and of itself, as a different perspective does not threaten participation in the group. In contrast, if a particular reading of scripture is required to stay in the group, contradictions may be denied and even discussion may be avoided. This may be why there are such diverse expressions of queer Christian identity. Perhaps, for example, the closeted gay clergy in Africa who were the subject of Kaunda and Alubafi’s (2022) study felt a sufficient sense of personal safety to integrate their identity privately, but not enough contextual safety to express it publicly.
Creative processes can create the safety needed for transformation and growth to occur. According to Maslow’s (1954) Hierarchy of Needs, physiological needs and the need for safety and security are prerequisites to meet the need for belonging. Hiding parts of ourselves to conform to a group can help us survive. But fitting in is not the same as belonging and surviving is not the same as thriving. Brown (2017, p.157) offers this definition of true belonging:
True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.
My creative writing experience was an example of the processes of projective identification and introjection. By projecting or externalising the ‘badness’ in myself and the fear that was associated with it, I was able to engage with it outside of myself. In this way, the writing or ‘image’ held the fear and ‘badness’ and reflected it in a way that I was able to tolerate and accept as a part of me. A previously hidden part was incorporated to reveal more of the whole.
Figure 8. Linley Smith, Unexpected compassion, 2022, pen on writing paper, 297 × 210mm.
While creative processes can provide safety, they can still be uncomfortable. I can sometimes be avoidant of art-making because it can evoke strong emotions and reveal aspects of myself that are painful to acknowledge. I created Figures 9A and 9B to represent my queer Christian identity in a practice interview with my peer. I was interested to notice that both images seem to be close-ups and I was reminded of Brown’s (2017, p.63) observation that “people are hard to hate close up. Move in”. I have always considered this to apply to relationships with others but it seems equally applicable to the self.
Figure 9a. Linley Smith, Queer Christian identity,2024, acrylic on cartridge paper, 297 × 420mm.
Note. This image was created first and depicts the rainbow and heart as symbols common to both identities in a mandorla. The mandorla is a symbol of healing that depicts the intersection of contradictions such as good and evil, right and wrong (Johnson, 2009). I was dissatisfied with this image. It was neat, simple and symbolic, yet seemed to be a cognitive representation that didn’t capture what I wanted to express.
Figure 9b. Linley Smith, Queer Christian identity, 2024, acrylic on cartridge paper, 297 × 420mm.
Note. This was the second image created. It was dark, messy and abstract. When I squeezed paint onto the paper, I felt excited but as I started to move the paint around the page, I became distressed as the colours mixed. I started to use my fingers and became frustrated that I could not represent what my queer Christian identity felt like, and yet, maybe I had. I realised that there were still aspects of the identity I hadn’t fully accepted. There came a point when it felt done but I detested it. However, with the support of a witness, the longer I sat with the image and looked at it from a distance and with different orientations, I began to appreciate it and notice things I hadn’t before. It’s an embodied image.
Discussion of the process helped to reveal that both identities had common attributes, such as openness and fluidity which led me to consider whether this pointed to a common source: the anchor or stable part of self that can be expressed or suppressed by different aspects of identity. Bion developed the term ‘O’ for the absolute truth in and of an object, describing it as recognisable and able to be felt but unknowable (Killinger, 2009). This description resonated with me as I recalled many consistent metaphors and connections to different creative expressions and responses that seemed to point to some stable, inescapable essence. Perhaps these experiences are the true self, taking opportunities to be realised.
Conclusion
Identity is formed and transformed in relationship. I have realised that identity formation is not linear but cyclical, as is the progression from a paranoid schizoid position to a depressive position. I don’t become who I am, I get closer to the core of who I am. Personal and contextual safety appear to be important factors that support the process of integration. I found that creative practice provided the safe ‘other’ for me to project, engage with and integrate an aspect of my identity that I had repressed and avoided for some time. The process has brought me to a new level of self-acceptance, which has helped me to relate to others with more openness and humility. When I notice a judgement, I get curious about what is being activated and what can be learnt.
The exploration has highlighted the fascinating interaction of inner and outer worlds, the connection between relationship with self and relationship with others, and how one might support the process of integration. While the journey is far from comfortable, I am grateful to be coming to a place where I can relate to myself in a similar way to how I relate to my visibly mended shorts.
Figure 10. Linley Smith, Tenemos, 2024, coloured pencil on cartridge paper, 297 × 420mm.
Note. The above image was initially created to represent a therapeutic community, a place of healing and transformation, with people coming and going as the process of the therapeutic community continues. It is a simple image, but I was very much drawn to it at the time and still am. If you consider the community as a being, then it represents how individuals come to relate to a greater ‘whole’, which can hold their tensions and anxiety and support personal growth. The shape is reminiscent of a mandala which is a symbol of healing and the whole self (Johnson, 1994).
Appendix
Birdtalker, One (Official Lyric Video), 2018, Endurance Music Group.
Acknowledgements
I acknowledge that this research was conducted on the land of the Whadjuk people of the Noongar nation, the traditional owners and custodians of the boodjar on which I live. I pay my respects to Elders past and present and recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.
I would like to thank Emma Gibbs, Dr Gaston Antezana and George Prince for their support and input during the research process. Special thanks to Dr Rose Williams for her guidance and encouragement, which allowed me to experience the joy of arts-based enquiry.
I am sincerely grateful to have made contact with a number of individuals from affirming churches and LGBTQIA+ organisations, who provided support and inspiration during the course of the project.
Special thanks to my parents, who have demonstrated unconditional love throughout my journey and without whom I would not have been able to undertake further study. Many thanks to my family, friends and peers for their support, dialogue and comic relief throughout the year. There are too many influential others to name specifically, some may not even realise how much of an impact they have had both positively and negatively, but I am deeply appreciative of each person who has aided my development over the years.
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Linley Smith
BSocSc, MCAT, AThR
Linley is a registered creative arts therapist, living and working on the land of the Whadjuk people of the Noongar nation, also known as Perth, Western Australia. She graduated with a Masters in Creative Arts Therapies from Murdoch University in 2024 and has a professional background in youth work. She is passionate about trauma-informed practice and is committed to developing inclusive and accessible therapeutic practices that promote well-being, social justice and healing, particularly in support of marginalised and vulnerable populations. Linley is interested in the ways creative processes can foster connection, empowerment, and recovery.
To contact Linley please email coordinator@jocat-online.org