Religion and Sexualities

Theories, Themes, and Methodologies

Sarah-Jane Page, Heather Shipley

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781351381192
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Teología y religión
• Subtopic: Sexualidad y género en la religión

This book examines key themes and concepts pertaining to religious and sexual identities and expressions, mapping theoretical, methodological, and empirical dimensions. It explores the ways in which debates around sexuality and religion have been framed, and what research is still needed to expand the field as it develops. Through the deployment of contemporary research, including data from the authors' own projects, Religion and Sexualities offers an encompassing account of the sociology of sexuality and religion, considering theoretical and methodological lenses, queer experiences, and how sexuality is gendered in religious contexts. This comprehensive text will act as an essential accompaniment to scholars and students across the social sciences and humanities, whether they have a general interest in the field or are embarking on their own research in this area.

1

Situating sexualities and religion

Place, space, and the body

Introduction

The relationship between social theory and the study of religion and sexuality is a complex one. The sociology of religion has not traditionally focused on sexuality in any explicit way; only in recent years has there been an emerging focus on studies concerned with both religion and sexuality. The two are rarely studied as two equally important categories. Other issues have predominated in the sociology of religion, particularly the secularisation debate (Beckford, 2003; McKinnon and Trzebiatowska, 2014). Meanwhile, the study of sexuality within sociology has a much stronger history, thanks to queer and feminist scholarship. Yet the inclusion of religion into these accounts has been minimal; only rarely do edited collections on sexuality reference religion to any great extent (Stella et al.’s [2016] edited collection, Sexuality, Citizenship and Belonging, is unusual in dedicating a section to religion). There has traditionally been a gap, therefore, between the study of religion on the one hand, and the study of sexuality on the other. This impacts how theory is understood and applied to each of these research areas. In general terms, the sociology of religion has not been very adept at cultivating theoretical terminology to explain the contours of religion and sexuality, a result, to some extent, of the lack of scholarship in this area. Instead, it is the study of sexuality which has done the most leg-work in developing theoretical concepts and ideas that have been utilised by religion and sexuality scholarship. This is despite the fact that there are some concepts solidly developed within the sociology of religion which could be more fruitfully and consistently applied to the study of religion and sexuality (one example we will refer to later is lived religion). This is not an issue peculiar to the study of religion and sexuality. As Beckford (2003) and McKinnon and Trzebiatowska (2014) note, theoretical silos have emerged in broader terms between the discipline of sociology in general, and the sociology of religion specifically. The parameters of this chapter and the two that follow will largely sketch out how we conceptualise the theoretical terrain in relation to religion and sexuality. In this chapter, we specifically focus on place, space, and the body.

This chapter is not arranged by taking specific theorists in turn, nor does it prioritise the classical sociological theory of Marx, Weber, and Durkheim, where one can firmly locate the analysis of religion but find only brief references to gender and sexuality issues (Jackson and Scott, 2002). Readers interested in exploring the relationship between sexuality, religion, and classical theory should read Turner (2008), who has extrapolated their ideas in this regard – namely, examining Marx’s understanding of the relationship between modes of production and sexuality regulation, and the relevance of Weber’s theories regarding the Protestant ethic, forms of authority and patriarchy for understanding reproductive and bodily control. Also see Mellor and Shilling (2014), who utilise Weber and Durkheim to discuss sacrality in relation to the erotic.

This chapter is organised according to themes, within which theoretical concepts and ideas are discussed. The first section locates the study of religion and sexuality. The notion of time will then be examined more closely, particularly in relation to normative understandings of time and how sexual bodies are seen as fitting in or as displaced from this. Bodies are central to this location-based understanding, and we will articulate the relevance of embodiment to the study of sexuality and religion. We will also utilise scholarship from theology to further embed the importance we give to embodiment within the study of religion.

Theoretical omissions: Integrating sexuality into the sociology of religion

To theorise is a contextual endeavour, situated in place and time. How we interpret social phenomena is grounded in particular contexts, impacted by places, spaces, and the body. This very book is imagined through our own social locations as researchers in two distinct places – the UK and Canada. These places impact on our ways of knowing, and our dominant understandings of social life. This knowledge is also embodied through our situatedness in terms of gender, ethnicity, age, social class, and (non)religious identity. As Boellstorff (2005) notes, as we undertake research, our very bodies and positionality in social life will impact on who we are able to talk to. This inevitably leads to blind spots, both in terms of the research under investigation and the types of theorisation we deploy. Following a Foucauldian line, Beattie (2004) argues that a feminist study of religion should be mindful of the power–knowledge configurations that structure the assembling of data and theory. She argues that self-reflexivity, and acknowledgement of situatedness, are needed to manage this. Meanwhile, Ahmed (2013) highlights the power dynamics embedded in researcher citation practices and how particular scholarship is represented. Who do we cite? Who gets omitted? And what impact does the erasure of authors’ own gendered classed and raced bodies have on understanding knowledge production?

Most sexuality research and theorising has been undertaken through a Western lens. If non-Western contexts are examined, Western theorisation still becomes the default means of theorisation. This is a perpetuating cycle as classical theories of sexuality are reused and reinterpreted, solidifying the assumed importance of Western forms of knowledge, despite the way such theories are often blind to diversity in terms of gender, ethnicity, and class. Historical accounts typically analyse European contexts and the trends that have impacted Western societies. For example, Jackson et al.’s (2008) analysis of East Asian sexualities notes the Western hegemony and how other cultures become reified through Western eyes, arguing that recognising diversity is crucial to ‘guard against the Western tendency to stereotype and exoticize the East’ (2008, p. 3). These forms of exoticisation are rooted in racial hierarchies where certain bodies are coded in terms of their assumed ethnicity. In the process, whiteness comes to be deemed normative and the position from which other bodies are understood. This Western focus can also lead to misinterpretation, such as the way the hijra in India have been read as a “third sex” by scholars, disrupting traditional gendered dualisms, and used as evidence of gender fluidity. But as Marchal (2016) cautions, ‘the situation of hijras is richer and more complicated than such a comparison can indicate’ (2016, p. 316), and invoking Western notions of gender can undermine the historic and contemporary configurations of hijra identity that relate in complex ways to Hinduism and caste systems.

Similarly, much theorising within the sociology of religion has taken Western contexts (especially North America and Europe) as normative, with these interpretive frames being imposed on other places and spaces that have experienced power relationships very differently. Historical accounts, as well as contemporary studies, tend to prioritise Christianity over other religious identities, and this impacts on how data is theoretically situated. Taking Christianity as the normative object of study also creates theories that are reliant on a singular religious perspective (despite, of course, the diversity of Christian practice).

Theorising specifically within the sociology of religion has been somewhat elitist. McKinnon and Trzebiatowska (2014) note its politically right-leaning tendencies, leading to the exclusion of more marginalised voices and perspectives, such as queer, Black, and women’s viewpoints (Woodhead, 2007a). Whereas sexuality scholarship has been reenergised in recent decades by taking feminist and queer theory seriously (though we acknowledge the historic tensions between these approaches – see Jackson and Scott [2010] for more information regarding this) – it is the case that theorisation within the sociology of religion has been far more conservative and reluctant to fully incorporate the experience of marginal voices into its theoretical assumptions. Although there have been a plethora of studies examining the relationship between religion and gender in recent decades, this collective knowledge is often dismissed or ignored when the dominant theoretical perspectives of the field are relayed, deemed ‘an optional extra’ (Woodhead, 2007a, p. 567). One example relates to secularisation. Secularisation theory has been the undergirding raison d’être of the sociology of religion, preoccupying much scholarly time and attention. Any undergraduate textbook on the sociology of religion will have at least one chapter devoted to the subject; often it is prioritised through its proximity to the front of the book. Yet as Aune et al. (2008) demonstrate, secularisation theory has been immune to any thorough gendered analysis (see also Woodhead, 2007a). The inclusion of gender is not simply about seeking recognition for women’s lives and activities – an ‘add women and stir’ (Neitz, 2003, p. 292) approach. Rather, to take a gendered perspective alters the underpinning assumptions on which secularisation theory rests. Men’s experiences are taken as the normative, so that ‘when men leave religion, religion is said to be dying, regardless of its continuity in women’s lives’ (Vincett et al., 2008, p. 5).

Women’s engagement with religion is more complex, given the very different ways they were incorporated into the industrialising project and configured in relation to the public and private spheres (Vincett et al., 2008; Woodhead, 2007a). Therefore, it is significant when, in the wake of 1960s sexual liberation, new forms of femininity – focused on independence and entitlement – emerged (Brown, 2001; Woodhead, 2008). Traditional churches were not dynamic enough to respond to and incorporate newer forms of femininity, and women’s interest in such religious spaces waned, therefore leading to an exodus from mainline traditions (Brown, 2001; Joy, 2017; Woodhead, 2008). Yet this is not the full story. At the same time, women who find new gendered imaginings disconcerting seek out religious practices that affirm their more traditionally oriented femininities. Meanwhile, those women who eschew patriarchy as experienced through religious practices seek out alternative forms of spirituality (Woodhead, 2007a, 2008). As Neitz argues, ‘For sociologists of religion, adding women is a dislocating act. New questions present themselves. Categories are problematised, and they can’t so easily be re-established, generalizations don’t hold’ (2003, p. 292–3).

Starting from the perspective of gender emphasises important avenues of inquiry. As Woodhead (2007a) argues, power is fundamental to the study of gender, but power itself has been little-explored within the sociology of religion, despite the classical inheritance of Weber. Taking power into account matters when considering religion because religion itself is ‘a system of power’ (Woodhead, 2007a, p. 568). More work is needed to understand the impact of what Woodhead calls ‘sacred power’ (2007a, p. 569), and how this impacts the terrain of sexuality and gender. Such considerations have profound implications for understanding the role religion plays in either supporting or challenging traditional gendered and sexual orders. Utilising the work of Nason-Clark, Neitz (2003) highlights the new knowledge generated when domestic violence is situated in relation to religious cultures. Abuse is all at once understood as abhorrent but also challenging the notion of the sacred family, leading to complexity regarding the relationship between women’s agency and religious authority. Parallels can be drawn with queer perspectives. To what extent would the parameters of secularisation theory be altered were queer perspectives fully accounted for? For example, the importance accorded to heteronormative assumptions in many religions will potentially require extensive revision, given that not only queer young people but also heterosexual young people of a religious disposition take the issue of queer equality incredibly seriously (Yip and Page, 2013; Young and Shipley, 2020).

In short, this book takes seriously a new way of imagining social theory within the sociology of religion and offers some insights into how this project can be imagined. We will largely prioritise feminist and queer perspectives in this endeavour, thereby situating ourselves somewhat differently from the traditional sociology of religion scholarship. hooks stresses the power imbued through theorising from marginal spaces, in focusing ‘on the center as well as on the margin’ (2000, p. xvi). This also highlights the importance of an intersectional analysis when understanding the relationship between sexuality and religion. Although we have already emphasised gender, other key axes of identity are also paramount to understanding equalities and inequalities in relation to religion and sexuality, including ethnicity, age, and social class. We will return to the theme of intersectionality in Chapter 3.

Locating sexuality and religion in time and space

The way in which spaces are constituted are not static but are subject to different flows and mediations. Globalisation is central to these processes, as religious ideas are taken up in new spaces, and people travel with their religious identities. Knott (2005) emphasises religion as the original globaliser, its own transformation apparent as it moves from one location to another. Knott ponders how the old homelands intersect with the new. While some forget their homeland entirely, choosing to focus on their new location, others retain strong ties and links with a homeland. This is akin to Tweed’s (2006) idea of dwelling and crossing, where religion all at once resides in certain locations and simultaneously moves through places. Tweed notes how religion is contained in sites such as the home and the body, moving through space as those bodies travel as pilgrims or migrants. Equally, religion is embodied through the lifecourse, taking in the contours of birth and death, hope and despair. Tweed references the Feast Day to Our Lady, practised by Cuban Catholics living in Florida and exiled from their homeland. The Feast Day is an important reference point in remembering the homeland and introducing the next generation to Cuba – who have never even been there – to the history of exile. What these accounts offer is a rich engagement with the complexity of globalising bodies. Too often, there is a tendency to equate globalisation solely with the movement of fundamentalist ideas when referencing religion (Beckford, 2003), but here global flows and change are understood in diverse ways, sometimes engendering positive outcomes, and other times negative ones.

Sexualities too ‘are the product of globalising forces’ (Boellstorff, 2012, p. 171), “crossing” and “dwelling”, just like religion. Boellstorff focuses on language and how sexualities are described is reappropriated and reconfigured due to globalisation. Words and identities circulate so that Western concepts such as “gay” are adopted elsewhere. Meanwhile, in other contexts, new words for similar sexual identities are forged. But Boellstorff is mindful that when the same word is deployed, or indeed when a different word is used, it does not mean that the term is identical to, or different from, its Western version. Language is contextual – the term “gay” does not even carry a singular definition in the West. Although terms such as “gay” and “lesbian” have been given international recognition through the gay liberation movement, they are also terms that invoke hierarchies.

Knott (2005) examines the spatial turn and its relevance to religion. The “secular” and the “religious” have been constructed in contrastive and binary terms. Knott contests this understanding, arguing that the secular and religious are entwined. One must start by analysing how space is constituted in terms of the religious and the secular, and how they are understood in relation to each other. Rather than seeing the religious and the secular in opposed camps – in that a space is either religious or secular – Knott contends that spaces are fluid and changeable; things and spaces which can be described as secular in one moment may be reinterpreted as religious in another. Knott emphasises ‘how the two are entangled in the same field’ (2005, p. 76, emphasis in original), and it is too simplistic to think that the religious and the secular can be separated. This is pertinent when thinking about sexuality, for seeing the religious and the secular in binary terms has also been the dominant means through which sexuality has been understood in relation to religion. As noted above, at one level, there has been a detachment between the two fields in terms of sociological analysis. The study of sexuality and the study of religion have traditionally been undertaken separately, with both fields largely excluding the other from its scope of analysis, leading to the utilisation of different theoretical frames. In addition, as will be detailed more fully in Chapter 2, religion has been dominantly constructed as a space in which sexuality rights are trampled on; the “secular” is perceived as the best place from which to protect and extend sexuality rights. While there is certainly a case to be made regarding negative religious discourses (indeed we will explore this more fully in Chapters 5 and 6), it is too simplistic to assert that religions are inherently problematic for sexual minorities; it is equally oversimplified to understand the secular as a space where sexuality rights can be guaranteed (Scott [2018] offers a clear case regarding how the construction of the secular has historically infringed the rights of women and sexual minorities). However, the divide that is understood as existing between the sexually negative “religious” and the sexually positive “secular” is analogous to Knott’s discussion of the binary divide between the religious and the secular. Following Knott, it is more helpful to understand these fields as embedded in each other, so that how the religious and the sexual are constituted in relation to each other can be examined. This also means being attentive to the relationship to the non-religious too, and how this is constituted in relation to sexuality.

Thus far we have articulated the importance of imagining space and context when understanding religion and sexuality, with recent configurations of religion being especially mindful of globalising forces and influences. But...