My intention was to write about race and racism. I am an African American pastor in a predominately white denomination. I serve a multi-racial, actively anti-racist congregation. This is after all an issue dedicated to diversity. I wanted to lament about my denomination, which sometimes opts for tokenism over true diversity. I wanted to talk about how hard it is to get ordained as a black woman even in progressive denominations. And I probably should have written about the general turmoil I’ve faced as a young black radical pastor in a self-professing progressive as it struggles to maintain spaces of true racial diversity.
And one day I will write about those things in more depth and detail. But today, there is something weighing even heavier on my heart. I’m single. I somehow entered into this career without a spouse or partner. I dared to be a clergywoman in her 30’s, whose ordination was not preceded or followed by a wedding, or children.
As an unmarried Protestant pastor, I was not aware of how much of an anomaly I was. The image of the preacher and his wife is still the dominant one (and I use the phrase “his wife” deliberately). Even in the context of the most post-modern and progressive church, the image of the preacher and his/her family still remains strong. The clergy families may consist of two mommies or two daddies or a mommy and a daddy who have thought progressively about marriage. But that structure remains unchanged.
I remember talking to my pastor at the beginning of my first attempt at the ordination process. And he said I was going to struggle as a “single black female.” And beyond the fact that it sounded like a funny movie title, I didn’t take his words very seriously. For me this was a personal issue with no real relevance in my vocational life.
But a year into the pastorate, I’m beginning to see the fullness of his words.
I see it in the assumption I would need less pay and less personal time because I “have no family.” I see it when I find myself in the position of being the single persons’ advocate in a clergy group where single people were being marginalized. And I saw it when I went to a women’s session at a conference for black clergy. And instead of talking about the suppression of women called by God in the Black Church, we broke into groups and prayed about the husbands and children we had or the husband and children we wanted.
Yet in spite of the frustration, there was nothing my pastor’s forewarning could have done to change my reality. My relationship status has been as unchanged as my gender identity and unchangeable as my racial identity. I’ve always been black and female. And I’ve always been single. My singleness is not an attempt to deepen my relationship with God or a protest against the heterosexist structures being imposed on clergy. I wish it were that noble.
The reality is I was the too tall, too poor, too black, dorky kid in my affluent prep school. I was the girl who went to three high schools in four years and didn’t date in college. And I am the woman who got my heart and spirit broken by the seminary player/pothead. Yet by the grace and humor of God, I am pastor. I said I wouldn’t even go to seminary until 2020, when I turned 40, was married and had children. Yet it’s 2011 and I am a pastor. I’m ahead of my vocational schedule. Yet, there is always some part of me that is stuck somewhere in my socially awkward past.
And this is not as attempt to make anyone feel sorry for me (but you can laugh because some of it is funny). My lament is not as an attempt to make pastors with spouses or partners and babies feel bad. Because truth be told, I want a husband who loves me in all of my called-by-a-radical-God glory and I want children too. But I do write because I know I am not the only single pastor. And I am not the only single pastor with an awkward social past. I am in a position to bring comfort to some socially awkward “single lady” preacher. And I want to give an alternative to articles about weddings and being a pregnant pastor during Christmas. I’ve bared my awkward soul to represent a different kind of diversity and to give a little more assurance to those like me to know that they are not alone.
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Thank you for baring your soul. As a single minister who’s had enough of being a single minister but can’t find a realistic way out of this space, I can share something of your pain. I’ve had enough all those assumptions you live with too.
This was a very well written and very courageous article. One of the things (you hope) a family would provide is emotional/ spiritual support. Being a clergy member is a strenuous job, a counseling job and every counselor needs a counselor. You will have a family, but while you wait, I encourage you to create your support system, make your own “village.” That said, One of the reasons why I no longer attend church is that feeling of extreme marginalization being a single Black female with no kids… and I was just a choir member (not clergy). I hope all denominations can work on this issue to make Gods House(s) more comfortable and comforting to single women everywhere. Good Job!
amen. thank you for your writing and your truth-telling. May you also know you are not alone!
I am so happy you are telling the truth about this. Your soul is beautiful to me and, no, you are not alone.
A wonderful and poignant article. Thank you.
thank you for sharing such a special part of yourself. i’m over 40 and don’t have any desire to remarry. you are absolutely correct, our church needs to embrace, value and honor us all in whatever place we may find ourselves throughout our lives. embrace, value, and honor me in my singleness, even if that status never changes; for, it it is good.
Yes–a truly poignant and personal exploration into a reality that rings true in so many ways for even those single women who are not members of the clergy. Thank you for posting this and being willing to be so honest about this subject.
I was going to write a really long reply – over 40, marriage not a goal, but feeling a little on the outside, ignored, etc. – but I’ll just say that I’m so glad you wrote this.
Keep speaking the truth.
Thanks for your witness. And I’d love to read about those other thoughts you’ve got on your heart, too.
“By the power of every moment of your goodness/May your heart’s wishes be soon fulfilled….” -Buddhist blessing. May all your wishes come true.
Thank you for being transparent, authentic and real. The right word at the right time is like a custom made piece of jewelry. Thank for sharing a timely treasure today. And you are definitely not alone.
Well said! It is not any easier for those over 50 either. I would add to your comments the awkwardness of clergy sit-down functions and “single lady preachers” are the ninth person at a ten-person table.
that first year out in particular is so hard for so many reasons, for some of us more so than others, to be sure. thank you for sharing part of your story.
Thank you for this post! As a single female seminarian I have wondered if I was the only one with an awkward social past and the only one likely to be single when I’m ordained. It’s good to know I’m not alone, and the good and the bad will come. Thanks!
Thanks for speaking for a lot of us, friend.
Thank you! I’m in my late-20s and about halfway through my second year of ministry in a cross-cultural context. I get the feeling that the folks in this community don’t know how to take me: for as long as they’ve known me I’ve been single and without children. Because of this, many seem to assume I’ve absolutely no experience in having a family, and as a result think of me as a kid. Others try to set me up with single men in the community (I think because they want to make me fit with their norm – by my age, most women have at least 2-3 kids and a partner). Others see me as a nun-type figure where the whole community is my family. As I wade through this, I’m starting to see my singleness as a gift that will (God-willing) change over time; but for the moment let’s me serve in a way that is different (not better or worse) than “the norm” whatever that may be. Thank you for helping me to know I’m not alone.
I spent many years as a single young clergy woman. A year ago I transitioned to a young married clergy woman. I have been amazed all along that it was very difficult to find advice on how to be single and then to transition. People are still trying to figure out what to do with us young women clergy.
As another single, protestant pastor, thank you for your courage to write, and for reminding all of us single, pastor gals that we are not alone. I found your article on a day when I was feeling just that. Thank you! Blessings to your continued ministry!
AMEN, SISTER FRIEND!
Long reply deleted because you’ve heard it all before and believe me, I know how it sounds.
just…AMEN, SISTER FRIEND!
It is hard…so hard. You are right on all accounts. I am just leaving singlehood after 8 years as a priest. Oddly enough my marriage means I move to a place where there isn’t a priest job available within an 80 mile radius. Funny how life goes….Best wishes. You are not alone.
I heard a preacher once say…. “if Jesus came to be the preacher folks would say he’s too young, he’s not married, he doesn’t have enough experience, His hair is too long, he hangs around a bunch of men, why he always got those sandals on…….. Thank God that only God ordains, or we never would have had a savior.
it is two years since this post and it is still touching. Even for a lonely preacher like myself who has lost his wife without a kid at just a year to my 50th year, are words of courage. Notwithstanding, all who have found themselves in this shoes should remain focused in hope. God who comforts the downcast-ed would still show up. A lot of us who have shared in your pains are eagerly waiting that one day you will crown this story with the message of his faithfulness. Shalom