Writing My Way Through Religious Trauma
- Beatrice Winifred Iker
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
Happy March!
I am writing to you in the middle of a New England snowstorm. As someone who grew up in the South’s sluggish heat, I used to dream of this. I yearned for sweaters and thick socks and chilly walks and snow-covered neighborhoods.
I love winter.
How was Black History Month, you ask? Sit back and let’s discuss 🍵
This month’s lesson was about my righteous anger.
This month’s fragrances were green apple and sandalwood.
This month’s plant was a Monstera deliciosa named Joey Thee Monstera.
This month’s writing was of the religious trauma variety.
This month’s tarot card was The Hanged One.
Let’s start with my anger.
As you’ll see in the writing section of this newsletter, I’ve started writing an essay collection about growing up queer in the Black church!
The research for this project has been overwhelming in the best way. I’m not just writing about my experience in the church. It’s also important to me that I give critical historical context for the “Black church,” as nothing happens in a vacuum. Plus, the history is fascinating!
The AME Zion Wikipedia page is actually pretty extensive and a great place to start for research if you’re interested!
As you hopefully know by now, I love history. Researching Black history is a passion of mine. And while the process of putting together my thoughts and experiences, as well as ramping up all the historical research, has been liberating, it has also been surprisingly infuriating.
Ya see, I did not realize until I started reflecting (my brain and I have been avoiding reflecting on this—go brains!) that I still held on to… let’s just say, a significant amount of anger regarding my time as a church-going youth.
The AME church has a documented history of being anti-queer, which I felt personally as a youth who was in frequent attendance.
Now, many years since I’ve been inside an AME church, I’m no longer simply afraid that my friends and family would find out that I’m queer. Now, I’m furious that I was forced to live with that fear.
I have been jokingly referring to this anger as my “righteous queer rage.”
And while I do believe my anger is justified, and I will go into detail about said anger in the essay collection, I also want to be careful not to fall into “the church is all bad,” because my righteous queer church rage lives alongside some of the best memories of my life.
Enter nuance.
I remember both the church’s oppression and its liberation.
I came alive in church. I made soul-deep friendships. I made teenage mistakes and healed in the company of patient love. Parts of me were so emotionally fulfilled that I cried. I witnessed the Black community in an intimate way that I cherish to this moment.
All these feelings live alongside my anger—and that was this month’s lesson: my anger, though justified, isn’t black-and-white. It’s a tangled thing. Contorted around my immense respect for the history of the Black church, my family’s history, and many blissful memories.
Anger doesn’t need to make sense. Or be simple. I can’t win at anger, though that would be a fascinating undertaking. Instead, I’m gonna write about it.
(I am also in therapy.)
This month’s fragrances were green apple and sandalwood.
Body Lotion: Vanilla Cashmere by EOS
Notes: Vanilla, Musk, Caramel
Perfume: Spring Breeze by Clean
Notes: Bergamot, Green Apple, Aldehydes, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine, Lavender, White Musk, Sandalwood, Orange Blossom
Body Oil: Santal Bloom by Saltair
Notes: Sandalwood, Amber, Musk
This month’s plant was a Monstera deliciosa named Joey Thee Monstera.
I bought Joey at Trader Joe’s. That store… if you have one nearby, I highly recommend checking it out just for the plants. I cannot believe that I found this Monstera, at its current size, for less than $20.
This month’s writing was of the religious trauma variety.
I am writing an essay collection about growing up queer in the Black church.
In that collection, I plan to reflect on:
The Black Church
The African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Zion denomination and its rich history (dating back to the 1780s!)
How the Church has long been a cultural and political haven for Black people
How the Church was a haven for me
The Church’s opposition to queer rights & how it impacted me as a youth
I’m proud of the work I’m doing for this project, which is extensive and fulfilling in equal measure.
From 1780s Philadelphia research, to 1990s/2000s church-going reflections, to 2026 therapy conversations—there’s SO MUCH to cover. Don’t worry, I’m taking my time!
This month’s tarot card was The Hanged One.
Because I’ve been reflecting on my childhood—the trauma, the joy, and the awkwardness in between—I’ve felt a curious sense of suspension.
Oftentimes, my mind is halfway in the past, ruminating on a conversation I had with my then-pastor as a teenager, a quarter in the present, reflecting on how that conversation has impacted me, and a quarter planning how to organize my thoughts for the future.
The grounding techniques that have helped so far have been: stretching, journaling, and going around my collection, naming and smelling my perfumes!
Next month, prepare for a look into my horror flash “Delicate Webbing,” published in Nightmare Magazine’s April 2023 issue.
My plan is to expand this into a novella!
In the meantime…
Bea’s Books Reminders
CHARLEY’S HONKY-TONK MISSION is my picture book-in-verse about Charley Pride, America’s first Black country music superstar.
Out June 9, 2026, and you can pre-order here.
My debut, a Southern Gothic horror novel set at an Appalachian HBCU, is called I’LL MAKE A SPECTACLE OF YOU and is out now!
Please request from your library, or order here.
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