Our society is sometimes fixated on demarcating the boundaries of identity. Anyone with a dual or multiple identity can testify to this, including those who are mixed-race, or who do not conform to a binary gender structure. What about people who are bi-spiritual, those who feel equally at home in two or more spiritual communities? Most, if not all, of the contributions to Radix Magazine are written from the perspective of one faith tradition. As someone who identifies as both Quaker and Baha'i, I find it difficult to answer the question "What religion are you?" It is difficult enough to explain Quakerism or the Baha'i faith on its own, let alone to attempt an explanation of how my heart embraces both! There are actually many aspects of my identity that embrace dualism: I am Eurasian, bi-national, and bi-cultural. These dual identities get attention in popular discourse, and I feel the need to raise dual religious or spiritual identity as an additional important area of intersectionality we should embrace, accommodate, and come to better understand.
Most religions expect complete, exclusive devotion. The notion that the heart and soul may be divided between two faiths might horrify some religious leaders. Yet for me, being bi-spiritual offers great benefits, including deriving spiritual nutrients from multiple sources. Quakerism (within the Christian tradition) and the Baha'i faith (originating in Iran), both respond to my spiritual needs. Both have opened doors for me, and both promise continued spiritual growth. I am also drawn toward, and instinctively practice, concepts from Buddhism and Hinduism.
While I pride myself in my openness, I have also struggled with the issue of identification. How can I consider myself both Baha'i and Quaker? I have felt guilty, as if participating in both somehow diluted my commitment to each one on its own. My internal struggle has been fed by a society that, above all, wants us to choose, to know. To transcend or straddle boundaries makes some people feel uncomfortable, perhaps partly because this makes individuals difficult to categorize or understand.
All my life I have yearned to truly belong to a community. Everywhere I've gone, I've always felt somewhat on the margins, never a full or complete member of any group. I am only now beginning to embrace duality and multiplicity as a source of strength, despite the lingering pain of being mixed and feeling incomplete wherever I've gone.
Being mixed means I can travel with ease between different ethnic communities; being bi-cultural means I am equally familiar with European and North American culture. Being bi-spiritual means I am open to all faiths. I can converse with God and connect with Her regardless of the institutional religious environment. I have felt a spiritual high after Durga Pugain, a Hindu festival celebrating the goddess Durga, after visiting Hindu temples, after Quaker Meetings for Worship, and after the Baha'i nineteen-day feast.
It angers and frustrates me that religions like to know they 'own' our spirits鈥攖hat spirits belong to them exclusively. I say "no" to being spiritually boxed and labelled! My soul wants to be free to explore and to be spiritually fed by multiple sources. I wear a necklace with the Goddess Taraonit, leading many people to ask me if Im Buddhist or Hindu. It was a gift from the woman at the Japanese Buddhist centre where I meditated in London, U.K. In my room, one can see the influence of diverse faiths and cultures. I derive strength from the writings of multiple faiths, including everything from Sufi poetry to Biblical quotes.
I feel society needs to take into account, and accommodate, its growing population of people who don鈥檛 fit into one box whether that is the box of religion or ethnicity. I am tired of ticking other on questionnaires and census forms. I feel this dehumanizes me and renders my uniqueness invisible. I am not other, I am me!
When it comes to religion, the overwhelming assumption that one will identify only with one religion leaves me feeling like I lack certainty, and devalues my form of spirituality. I find it ironic that despite the profusion of interfaith activity and growing interfaith cooperation, the boundaries of the faiths themselves remain clear-cut. Interfaith does not mean multi-faith. The recognition of the essential commonality of most religions has yet to have practical implications in terms of worship. I find it difficult combining my Quaker and Baha鈥檌 worship and constantly feel the two in tension.
I have realized that to embrace a dual identity is not easy in our culture. It requires great resilience and strength, and the ability to stand both within and outside the circle. Fortunately, when my heart turns to God, it does not matter how I identify. I can simply be me.
Kathryn Lum ( Honours Anthropology) considers herself to be a spiritual gypsy, and in travel finds herself face to face with her deepest fears and challenges.
Originally published in the November 2003 issue of Radix.聽
