I've thought a lot about writing a manifesto for Side B people. In fact, I've written multiple drafts of a manifesto for a few years now, but I've never been satisfied with the result. In the end, I figured I should get one of those drafts out there, so that people can imagine what Side B Gay people are advocating for. So, here it is...an incomplete rough draft of the Side B Manifesto.

Though we hold certain theological convictions as queer or "Side B" Christians, I was recently reminded we share much history and experience with the greater LGBTQ+ community – which shapes and influences our own lives and experiences. Things are better now than they were sixty years ago, but abuse by religious and secular societies still exist. There is more work to be done.

My teenage self saw a lot of me in Ed Wood. I may not have ever wanted to crossdress, but I still held my own big secret with homosexuality. I identified with this concept of struggling with a secret which society considers taboo.

I desire so greatly to be in heaven in the presence of my God and Savior. Yet I still wait. And wait. Every day with a reminder of my imperfections through a fallen world, broken relationships, and a scarred gender identity. Every day I long for Christ's return. Is this how I live out patience as a queer man?

I'm queer. That is how I now identify my sexuality. And it's how I can best define my experience of gender, too. In my pursuit to grow more like Christ, I was setting aside part of my life as a mystery spot. How could I submit my sexuality to Christ if I didn't even know what it was?

I love being a girl-dad. At the end of the day, my wearing some makeup or playing pretend with my daughter will not come to define her conception of gender.

Just because I'm "out" doesn't mean I'm always going out of my way to talk about sexuality. Outside my closest friendships, I still don't feel comfortable sharing. I still feel ashamed of my sexuality. Even after all this time. All these stories, written or otherwise.

Several of our authors recently attended the inaugural Revoice conference in St. Louis: a gathering for sexual minorities in the church. Here are our thoughts on the (controversial?) conference we experienced together.

Why would I — someone who claims to believe in an omnipotent God who cares for me — wait to go to that God only until after I had tried everything else? When I began to sort out what my sexuality and gender identity meant to me as a follower of Christ, I didn't have to do it all by myself. I could take it all to God.

I'd transition to being a woman. I'd find a man to love me for who I was, and I'd become his wife. I'd run away with him and find freedom to be the woman I was supposed to be. This is not what happened, of course. Some would call it a mercy; others, a tragedy. I call it taking ownership of my gender identity.

I have mentioned before that I am a father. I want to protect my daughter. With the exception of Jesus and my wife, I have never loved a person so strongly.

I told my best friend that I had literally just come from gay sex in another man's bed. I'd found him on the Internet, then regretted it. I needed support.

As a man who strongly considered becoming a woman, I have a unique gender perspective that most Christians cannot fathom. Still, I wanted to be a man.