The Esteemed Patron of the LGBTQ+ Community

Not too many years prior, a pair of pale, robin's-egg-blue gloves were kept within a receptacle tucked away in my personal wardrobe. Their peculiarity stemmed not from their aesthetic appeal, but rather from their intended application. These accessories were designated for attendance at Easter mass—an event I customarily abstained from participating in.

My upbringing was rooted in the Catholic tradition. Throughout my youth, I frequently engaged in disagreements with my familial unit. Queries such as why clergy were prohibited from marriage or why females were barred from delivering sermons were common. Finding myself at odds with the foundational principles and political stances of the institution, I ceased my attendance shortly after reaching confirmation age, precisely at fourteen. My persistent refusal to attend mass became a source of contention within the family, yet deliberately circumventing worship services during Christmas and Easter approached a level of perceived wickedness that even I found disconcerting. Consequently, those gloves remained.

Despite a lack of profound spiritual linkage to the ecclesiastical body, I harbored a clandestine fondness for attending services—even subsequent to my departure. The melodic chanting, the narratives of miraculous births, the aromatic incense, and the post-service confections were all sources of enjoyment. As I matured, while my family would be immersed in hymns praising the divine, I would utilize that temporal interval to contemplate matters of a romantic or sexual nature.

During my formative years, I recognized my non-heterosexual inclinations, even if the appropriate terminology eluded me. I identify as bisexual, though in those earlier times, my awareness was confined to the consistent observation that characters like Disney princesses held a greater aesthetic appeal for me than their male counterparts. Furthermore, my non-binary identity meant I never felt aligned with conventional gender classifications.

Approximately a year ago, through a coincidental discovery, I encountered St. Sebastian, widely recognized as Christianity's inaugural gay icon within historical records.

While the precise date of Sebastian's canonization remains unestablished, historical accounts confirm his service as a soldier in the Roman army during the reign of the pagan emperor Diocletian. In the year 288 AD, Sebastian faced a death sentence for professing his Christian faith and for encouraging the conversion of others to Christianity. Emperor Diocletian ultimately ordered his brutal beating to death, as the initial method—being repeatedly struck with arrows—proved insufficient in achieving the desired outcome.

Although historical estimations place Sebastian's age in middle adulthood at the time of his demise, renowned artists spanning from Botticelli to Giovanni Domenico Cerrini depicted him in their works as a virile young man. The rendition of his martyrdom by Piero del Pollaiuolo, known as Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, is a particular favorite of mine. Several artistic portrayals of his execution capture his eyes rolled back, a physiognomy suggestive of intense pleasure, which some interpret as a deliberate allusion to sadomasochistic themes. Conversely, other scholars have interpreted the documented circumstances of his life as a narrative of self-discovery and societal rejection due to his perceived non-conformity or "queerness."

Further Reading from Broadview:

In an official capacity, Sebastian is venerated as the patron saint of athletes and skilled archers, and also as a guardian against widespread illness. However, I was quite surprised to ascertain that the LGBTQ+ community has embraced him as a figurehead for approximately two centuries.

Indeed, certain adherents within his devoted queer following even accord him the title of the foremost saint for gay individuals.

Such historical recognition within the established religious framework was entirely unknown to me during my upbringing in a small community in Atlantic Canada throughout the 1990s. While I am disinclined to elevate the church to an unassailable status, given the considerable suffering it has inflicted upon numerous individuals, I do believe that possessing knowledge of Sebastian and his enduring legacy during my youth could have profoundly altered my perception of myself.

My current relationship with organized religion is nonexistent, and I have since rehomed the gloves, ideally to someone who will cherish them. Nevertheless, I intend to retain the narrative of St. Sebastian in my memory. His story offers me a fresh perspective on my younger self—one imbued with a greater degree of empathy and comprehension.

This particular narrative was initially published in the October/November 2022 edition of Broadview magazine, under the heading 'Discovering Saint Sebastian.'

Sarah Ratchford is a recognized author based in Menahqesk (Saint John), New Brunswick.