I want a bishop . . .
I want a bishop who has AIDS. I want a bishop with no health insurance who grew up in a place where the earth is so saturated with toxic waste that they didn't have a choice about getting leukemia.
I want a bishop who was kicked out of the house at fourteen and I want a bishop who lost their last lover to breast cancer, who still sees that person every time they lay down to rest, who held their lover in their arms and knew they were dying.
I want a bishop who has stood in line at the clinic, at the DMV, at the welfare office and has been unemployed and laid off and sexually harassed and gay-bashed and deported.
I want a bishop who has spent the night on the street dumpster diving for a meal and had a cross burned on their lawn and survived rape.
I want a bishop who has been in love and been hurt, who respects sex, who has made mistakes and learned from them.
I want a bishop with bad teeth and an attitude, who has eaten nasty hospital food, a bishop who cross-dresses and has done drugs and been in therapy.
I want a bishop who has committed civil disobedience.
And I want to know why this isn't possible.
I want to know why we started learning somewhere down the line that a bishop is always a clown: always a john and never a hooker. Always a boss and never a worker.
( Author Unknown )