Queer Grief and Ancestor Veneration

originally published for Oak Leaves Winter 2024

“As our ancestors did before, so we do now, so our descendants may do in the future.” This is what we say in every ritual, in every statement of purpose and precedent.  But how do we live it?

[cw: this article will touch on themes of death, grief, transphobia, homophobia, epidemics, and suicide]

This summer I attended GALA 2024, a gathering of around 150 LGBTQIA+ choruses, and their 7000+ queer and allied members.  It was quite possibly the most affirming experience I’ve had in my life to date.  It brought me to tears often throughout the weeklong festival, the feeling of community, and affirmed identity, and knowing that we live out not only for ourselves, but also to honor the sacrifices of those who went before us and to pave the way for those who come after.  

There was the expected queer joy and queer grief, queer pride and queer anger.  But I thought the most moving part of the whole experience was seeing this already marginalized community of gays, use their voices to lift up the other, even more marginalized communities they hold within: the trans community, the intersex community, the disability community.  The first few letters of the acronym are barely speaking from a place of safety, and are scared and hurting too, but they devoted precious time and voice and stage during the festival to center trans, intersex, and disabled voices and experiences. 

The gay community knows the deep sorrow of losing a whole generation to the AIDS crisis, to the intentional lack of response from the politicians of the time.  They know the community that can be built coming out of grief and pain.  They know the sacrifices made to be where we are today.  GALA was transformational because they  intentionally welcomed the whole of the Queer Community in to experience the depth of history and emotion together.  The Queer Community is so cognizant and connected to Ancestor worship and remembrance.  The Austin Gay Men’s Chorus ended their set with “Never Ever” from NakedMen, prominently displaying red handkerchiefs in remembrance of those who died from HIV/AIDS.  I find solace in Queer poets, like Andrea Gibson, for their work emphasizing both our history and our future.  

“I hack high school curriculums 
and delete every test that does not ask 
what the P in Marsha P. Johnson stands for.” -- Andrea Gibson

We have to be connected to these Ancestors.  We have lost so much, and the drive to honor those loses in a meaningful way is what we can give our descendents.  I teach my kids now, when they are questioned “why do you dress that way?” or “what church do you go to?” or “are you a boy or a girl?” to just answer “Pay it no mind.”  This is a gift our Ancestors, our Beloved, Mighty, Queer Dead gave us.  It was hard-won, and we owe it to them to use it well.

One of the big joint concerts of the weekend, Mni Sota Confluence, honored the water, land, and music of Minnesota (host state of GALA 2024).  Not only were they deeply connected to their indigenous legacy, but they also honored the ancestors of place and community.  During “Lake Isle” (performed by the Calliope Women’s Chorus, One Voice Mixed Chorus, and the Twin Cities Gay Men’s Chorus) they showed on the large projector screen the names of all those chorus members from across GALA who had died since the last GALA gathering in 2016.  It was heart wrenching, seeing all those names, those people, memorialized on screen, but it was also cathartic.  The concert hall was full of tears and choked sobs.  This long held back group grief, finally set free.  Most pointedly, the names were accurate to the individual lost, which is so important to our identities, but so often lost when we’re mourned by those who didn’t see us as our whole, authentic selves.  

“I walk through graveyards with a chisel,
correcting the names of trans kids
whose families said no when asked, can you just let me live?” -- Andrea Gibson

So where do we go from here? We honor those Mighty and Beloved Queer Dead.  Sometimes it can be complicated forming a relationship with the Ancestors because we don’t feel connected to those of our blood.  But the Queer community knows about chosen family better than most.  What is remembered, lives.  And so we must continue to tell their stories and share their wisdom.  And most importantly, we need to connect with them on a devotional level and live up to the blessings they left us with.  

“I like most of my queer friends don’t have a child,
I have millions from Nebraska to Chechnya
to the Baptist church where I grew up,
…
I know won’t keep all of them alive
but I keep cutting my diary into confetti
to throw at their hopes when they float by scared
or furious or laughing or in love
…
queer youth are five times more likely …
to spot a stranger crying
and ask if there’s anything they can do to help,
five times more likely to need us to do the same” -- Andrea Gibson

“As our ancestors did before, so we do now, so our descendants may do in the future.”  Our descendants need us to be good tenders of their future.  We owe it to them, and to our own ancestors, to use the gifts we’ve been given now.  To live authentically now.  To speak up now.  To take action now.  

Works Cited:

Gibson, Andrea. You Better Be Lightning. “Queer Youth are Five Time More Likely to Die by Suicide.” Button Publishing Inc, 2021. 

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Rev. Jan Avende (they/them) is an Initiate and Consecrated Priest of Ár nDraíocht Féin currently serving as the Vice Archdruid. Locally, they serve the Central Ohio pagan community out of Three Cranes Grove, ADF, and work as a contracted chaplain at the Ohio Reformatory for Women and a Resident Chaplain at Grant Hospital. They are a talented Bard, Liturgist, and Spiritworker, with a passion for mentoring others, building resources for pagan families, and making the work that we do as pagans accessible for all. You can see more of their writing at hellenicdruid.com and support their work on Patreon.