The below was written for the 2017-2018 cohort of the Boston Interfaith Leadership Initiative (BILI), in which Ann-Marie was a fellow. For more information about the program, please see the BILI website.
Interfaith work is necessary to facilitate dialogue and justice efforts across members of various faith communities or paths, especially faiths that have been historically appropriated, colonized, and persecuted by dominant ideological systems. This work is inherently interpersonal. But do we ever think of intrapersonal interfaith work?
I am interfaith, and though I believe we truly all are—for “faith” is a word fluidly defined upon not just religious, nonreligious, spiritual, philosophical, moral, or ethical profession (in both the testimonial sense and the occupational)—I am rather explicitly interfaith. I have been raised and am culturally Roman Catholic, spent years seriously self-studying eclectic European and Asian paganism and folk religion, am a part of a local pagan community, and have adopted Daoism and Buddhism as faith paths.
I see religion as a powerful healing and liberation tool, and though histories have seen it used sometimes to oppress others institutionally, I value religion’s ability to resist hegemonic influences. For me, my various pagan and Eastern religious traditions blend together syncretically in personal decolonization efforts to reconnect with the diasporas that feel lost to me as a biracial Chinese American. My family are the only Chinese Americans I know who have U.S. ancestors predating the Chinese Exclusion Act, and our Roman Catholic immigrant history can be directly traced back to both European colonialism and assimilation. I cherish my upbringing in my local Roman Catholic parish, but I also deeply value my reversion (as opposed to “conversion”) back to the faiths of my ancestry.
I often claim “religion is my activism,” for both religion and politics offer us models to express and advocate for our most deeply held beliefs, morals, and ethics. As a leftist activist, fighting against imperialism and damaging dominant systems is core to my praxis; as a person of faith, fighting for religious freedom and self-determination is central to my activism. Simply by practicing interfaith beliefs, one is able to resist the colonial Western ideologies that influence our value systems. Interfaith religious action also helps sustain my spirit, and my faith communities bolster my strength with their unwavering and selfless love, support, and solidarity. They remind me of my own morals and ethics and make me recall my motivation to fight for the people I hold dear.
Religion also gives me a way of connecting and validating my other myriad identities: queer, female, biracial, non-white-passing. My social justice and liberation work is fueled by my deeply held mantra of duality, for my motivations and devotion are not just to the “divine”—however that may be fluidly defined and physically manifested—but to equal opportunities for secular self-determination. Duality allows me to exist in various liminal states and challenge binaries; as the personal is political, that means I can also bring personal heightened senses of liberation and health to community sociocultural and political spheres.
As someone who is studying two undergraduate degrees, Community Health and Religion with a specialization in Colonialism, the way belief impacts our health outcomes is remarkable. We would be remiss if we ignored all the ways spirituality affects our physical health and access to healthcare: from contemporary religious debates over contraceptives, women’s health, and abortion; to religiously conscious palliative and end-of-life care; to the abilities of faith communities to mobilize, organize health resources, and distribute information; to the role faith leaders play in advising and providing confidential mental health resources. Healthcare is a human right we cannot separate from our ideological systems and individual and collective spiritual health; liberation must be tied to the holistic well-being of our society. We must uplift the work of challenging dichotomies and strive toward simultaneous healing and creative expression. Gloria E. Anzaldua put it best when she said:
“A form of spiritual inquiry… is reached via creative acts—writing, art-making, dancing, healing, teaching, meditation, and spiritual activism—both mental and somatic (the body, too, is a form as well as site of creativity). Through creative engagements, you embed your experiences in a larger frame of reference, connecting your personal struggles with those of other beings on the planet, with the struggles of the Earth itself. To understand the greater reality that lies behind your personal perceptions, you view these struggles as spiritual undertakings.”1
The largest spiritual struggle I face, however, is doubt. Doubt can color my vision and cloud my head. I’m always left wondering whether my morals are truly aligned with the visions I see for the world, and whether I am right. I view liberation work as holy work; to me nothing is more treasured or divine than allowing the autonomy and self-determination of the collective human identity breathe and reveal itself. When uncertainty disrupts my belief, it becomes difficult to achieve whatever (activist) goal I have set for myself.
Thankfully, I am not alone. I place my faith in others, my family, my friends, my co-activists, and they restore my faith in myself! I am ever grateful for the warmth and empowerment that comes out of my positive and healthy relationships—to all those who have had faith in me, reading this, my sincerest well wishes and thanks.