Review: Gay Girl, Good God, by Jackie Hill Perry

I have thoughts, I have feelings, I have opinions on this book. Some good, some bad. Sit with me and let’s discuss.

I think I should preface this review by saying that Queer-Christian relations are rather near and dear to my heart. The whole reason I started this blog, back before I was doing book reviews and music and art, was to have a place where I could talk about my experiences, thoughts, and feelings about being Queer and Christian. That was almost three years ago; and you'll notice that the Live Between feed is pretty bare. I haven't really done a good job of living up to the dream I had for this blog. But we're here now. I have a book to use as a launching point for a discussion, so discuss I shall.

My reaction to this book is somewhat mixed. Gay Girl, Good God is ostensibly the story of how Perry moved from practicing lesbian to born-again Christian in a straight marriage, drawn through the transformation by the goodness of God; and on one level the book does, indeed, tell that story. However, stylistically, it felt more like a sermon than a memoir to me. There were a lot of quotes, both biblical and from Christian theologians/teachers; and the book felt more teaching-oriented than narrative-oriented. Perry lays out the basics of original sin, and traces the goodness of God and the gospel from the Garden to the empty tomb. Yes, these lessons are technically tied to various events and moments over the course of her conversion narrative, but the emphasis to me was on the theology and theory, not the narrative. This isn't necessarily a shortcoming so much as it was unexpected. I haven't followed Perry's career closely, but I knew she was a poet before she became the big-time Christian influencer she is today. For some reason, in my mind, the affinity for poetry also meant an affinity for storytelling; but after reading the book, I don't think this is the case.

Perry's poetic skill is on display here, to be sure. Her ability to craft imagery is used to its full effect at several points throughout the book. She has a gift, both for writing and reading (I listened to the audiobook she read herself). She knows how to use language in all its aspects, from the denotative to the figurative to the musical. It was somewhat refreshing to read a Christian writer who had such ability, as most of them are more versed in argumentation or analytical writing than evocative or lyrical writing. Unfortunately, I think the book's emphasis on teaching robbed the images of any long-term effectiveness they might have had. The book lacked an overarching, unifying quality to tie everything together, which contributed to the sermon-esque-ness of it. It felt more like a series of image lessons drawn from Perry's life than a unified story of transformation (at least, IMO).

Also (and I'm about to get extremely critical of this book, so buckle up), the images Perry chose at times seemed to undermine her message. Her story seemed to be at war with itself in places-- not so much in her undying declaration that God is good, all the time (this is unwaveringly true throughout the book) but in what she seems to be trying to say about homosexuality and her relationships with men. This book is ultimately two stories: one is the story of how Perry moved from a practicing lesbian to a person pursuing holiness and a closer relationship with God. The other is how her relationships with men were transformed through a renewing relationship with her heavenly father and entering into a healthy relationship with her now husband. These stories are connected in that they both happened to Perry somewhat simultaneously, somewhat in sequence; and they are obviously connected in that they effected her sense of gender and sexuality. However, by mashing the two stories together into a single, extremely short book, There are some unintended consequences.

Early in the book, we learn there were two events that significantly impacted Perry's relationships with men: one was the day her father told her that he didn't care if she loved him, and treated her love with indifference. The other was the day an older cousin molested her. These events are sandwiched between episodes in which Perry describes her homosexual experiences, and declares that she's been gay since she was born. Wherein lies the contradiction? The juxtaposition of these events plays into a narrative sometimes seen in Christian circles related to homosexuality: that of a father wound and/or a traumatic sexual event that "makes" you gay. Now, does Perry draw an explicit connection between these events and her homosexuality? No. She even goes out of her way to repeat that she had loved women ever since she was a little girl. The problem is that the structure of the narrative outweighs her words. I imagine handing this book to someone in my family, who is already primed by evangelical rhetoric to believe the "made gay by trauma" narrative; and honestly, I don't think they'd see the "I was born this way," written in the text. They'd see the story they're already primed to see.

Which brings me to my biggest problem with this book: It feels like it was written to affirm an already Christian audience's preconceived notions of what being gay is like. Perry pays lip service to being born gay while continuously stressing the importance of choosing holiness. There is an overwhelming emphasis on personal responsibility for sin, and no mention of the suffering many queer people experience living with the weight of something they didn't choose. In the final chapters, where Perry offers thoughts and scriptures relating to various issues effecting "same-sex attracted" Christians, her chapter on "Same-Sex Attracted Christians and Endurance" can effectively be summed up as "Jesus never said this would be easy. He sucked it up in his suffering, so you should too." No grace. No call to the church to act as the ministering angel who strengthened Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane (the image around which this chapter is built). While it is somewhat comforting to know that we have a savior who is acquainted with our temptations, and held up under them, telling the suffering to suck it up doesn't feel like "bear[ing] with the failings of the weak" (Romans 15:1).

This book was too short. I wanted it to be longer not necessarily so it could cover more time, but so it could go more in depth in the time it covered. Gay Girl, Good God, felt like it was too little narrative with too much teaching; a lot of theology with little humanity. I've seen people recommend this in TikTok comment sections for new Christians who are coming out of the queer community; and while I think the impulse is honorable, I don't think this book would be particularly useful. It's rife with Christianese and seems to be built on a base of theological study that most new Christians just don't have. I was raised in the faith, and went to a Christian school where I had daily bible classes and chapel every week, and it was still a bit much even for me. Once, when I was in grad school, I had a fellow student tell me that half the point of writing a term paper was to prove you'd done the reading, and honestly, that's kinda what this book felt like at it's core. Perry focuses on theology and quoting thinkers prominent in Evangelical circles in a way that almost feels like she's trying to say: "See, I've done the reading. I know my stuff." There wasn't enough narrative here for me to feel the transformation as it happened; and unfortunately, the talking points weren't anything I haven't heard before.

Kinda makes me sad. I wanted to like this book, but it just wasn't quite for me.