A Review of The End of Sexual Identity: Why Sex is Too Important to Define by Lance Lawhon

This review is a response to Jenell Williams Paris’ book, The End of Sexual Identity: Why Sex is Too Important to Define. Her book is an in-depth review and critique of the sexual identity phenomenon. Here she examines its roots, how it has influenced us over the years, the failings of the church, and even suggestions about how we as the church could differently view and treat same-sex attracted (SSA) people. My goal in this article is to summarize and respond to the main points of her book.

A little about Paris: She teaches Anthropology at Messiah College and has years of in-depth study on the topics of inner-city ministry and sexual identity. She identifies as a Christian and attends a church in a mainline evangelical Protestant denomination.

Let me stop here and provide a warning: the content of my article—and her book—gets personal. Parents, please read the entirety of my article before letting your children do so. I advise the same about the book: it’s a hard, hard book to read. It’s hard because it takes preconceptions to task, challenging one’s view of sexual identity as a hard-and-fast category and one’s place in the schema of sexuality. It challenged me because I’ve struggled with same-sex attraction since I was a child. I’ve spent much of my life trying to reconcile Scripture and my internal desires.

Gender identity

The initial section of the book deals with gender identity—what it means to be male or female. From her anthropological viewpoint, she emphasizes these as cultural definitions. She cites the  Bugis people of Indonesia and how their five sexes take on different roles in society. In our own culture, she expresses concern for those born with sexual malformation and the stresses put on them by society to fit into one gender or another. She critiques traditional, structured gender roles and expectations with great skill. How much of our understanding of gender roles is based on our culture rather than Scripture? She posits three ways to view gender and states that all fit within a biblical worldview: rigidly held sexual dimorphism, openly held sexual dimorphism, and gender as a spectrum. She advocates looking at gender as a spectrum and creating a revised nomenclature, thinking this would be helpful. I take exception to her conclusion.

What matters is how we were made to be, not how we necessarily came out of the womb. God created us male and female, not a myriad of genders. I don’t buy her anthropological notion of a continuum of genders. What we have here is a result of our fallenness. Yes, there are those born with sexual malformations and gender confusion, but what she fails to address is that gender identity is far more than sexual organs. Even on a physiological level, we have a difference in chemistry, brain make-up, in musculature and bone. Down to our DNA. That doesn’t even touch how we are wired differently mentally and emotionally. After all, God created them male and female (Mark 10:6). I do agree with her that we should certainly let gender-related expectations revolve around the wheel of grace, but not so much that we encourage a multiple-gender paradigm. She still emphasizes the importance of maleness and femaleness, seeing these as strengths. At minimum she is vague on this issue, and at most she talks out of both sides of her mouth. She concludes with, “So I think it’s important to reduce sex-based inequalities, but also important to highlight the reality of being created male and female.” (33)*. This is a weak section of her book.

Sexual identity

Paris spends considerable time on the difficult subject of sexual identity. She defines it as “. . . a Western, nineteenth century formulation of what it means to be human. It’s grounded in a belief that the direction of one’s sexual desire is identity-constituting, earning each individual a label (gay, lesbian, straight, etc.) and social role. Perceived as innate and as stemming from inner desire, sexual identity has to be searched out, found, named and expressed in order for each person to be a fully functional and happy adult. Finding our sexual feelings is part of how we come to know ourselves and present ourselves to others.” (41).

She goes on to ask if there is such thing as homosexuality, as lesbianism, or even heterosexuality. You might catch yourself stating, “Well, of course! It’s even in the Bible.” Paris points out that homosexuality, Scripturally speaking, is described as a practice, not an identity. She points out that the term “homosexual” was a medical term not used in everyday conversation until the 1930s. Even in that context it wasn’t used as an identity. That developed later as a socio-political-lifestyle label. An ample section of her book provides a review of homosexual practices in past and current cultures and how those vary from our present-day Western notion of sexual identity. Further, she posits that we’ve been enculturated to accept the sexual identity framework, with everyone living in the category of heterosexual, homosexual, etc. These forced frameworks have led to anger, mistrust, hatred, alienation, and a host of other sins. As someone who has lived with same-sex attraction for decades, this concept of sexual identity’s artificiality floored me. It’s not really a thing? I had assumed that there were such identities or that Scripture provided the context, but it doesn’t. For many years, I thought one had to be labeled something. That begs the question, “Then what are we?” Paris answers, “Sexuality, including both the good and the bad, is better understood in light of our beloved created nature, not in light of sexual desire. Identity comes from God, not sexual feelings.” (51). I couldn’t agree more. Ultimately, that is where our identity should arise, as people made in God’s image first and foremost. Sexual identities can be mutable. Beauty and strength fade. Intelligence dwindles in old age. But a foundation in Christ never ebbs, and often grows stronger with time.

That the term “homosexual” is inadequate in its definition is a major point Paris emphasizes. For it cannot address the wide range of attractions and behaviors. There are those with attraction for both sexes, transgender people who do not have SSA, those who primarily fall into one category but have occasional attraction for the other gender, and those who have had varying sexual experiences, or none at all. Newer terms are popping up to fill the gaps: gay, bisexual, LGBT, etc. Even the LGBT term keeps getting longer to encompass a greater range of identities. Across history there are examples of same-sex sex, but rarely is homosexuality a societal identity role as it is today (63).

While she deconstructs the framework, she makes clear that those who consider themselves heterosexual cannot look down on those with SSA, as though from a position of power. “Focusing first on heterosexuality begins to show the shortcomings of the sexual identity network, issuing a call for the end of sexual identity.” (41). Further, she states we should not affirm heterosexuals and malign homosexuals because no one’s redemption is complete. We are none of us perfect. We all need a place at the table, as Paris says, because we all have conflicting desires. This might sound shocking, and it was to me. Even Paris herself bemoans the arduous challenge rethinking the framework entails.

This idea didn’t sit well with me at first. It struck me as bizarre. Believe you me I’m not what anyone would consider a theological or social liberal. My bent is toward proven, orthodox doctrine and having been raised in the Southern Baptist denomination and then converting to Reformed theology in my early 30s—still in a theologically conservative milieu—this seemed very strange. My first thought—as probably yours might be—was, “But heterosexuality is the norm. That’s how God made us; He made us male and female. He made marriage for a man and woman. How can heterosexuality be wrong?” Well put. The problem isn’t in the definition of marriage or biblical sexuality, of male-female attraction; the problem, as Paris puts it, is in the expression of heterosexuality and considering it a sexual identity. Even that is broken. Consider adulterous thoughts, pornography, promiscuity, and masturbation. Even if practiced in a heterosexual context, these are all sins; that is, those on both sides of the fence can practice the same type of sin, but with a differing object of desire. Same-sex attraction is in many ways no different. True, there is a norm. There is a specific way God meant things to be. We were originally created to be attracted to the opposite gender. But because of sin entering the world and corrupting our hearts and desires, sexual attraction is now a spectrum. A broken spectrum, to be sure. She points out, and rightly so, that trying to pigeonhole people into specific sexual identity categories of heterosexual or homosexual is a poor endeavor. Since it is a spectrum, there are variations of attraction. For example, a woman might feel near-overwhelming attraction to men, but in some few cases fantasizes about other women. Even using the term “heterosexual” isn’t biblical. In my own experience, my attraction hasn’t always been 100% toward men. I’ve been attracted to women, though those feelings have ebbed and flowed over time.

That said, how then are those Christians who consider themselves heterosexual to view those dealing with differing sexual desires or actively living in a homosexual lifestyle? She makes a profound statement: “When heterosexual persons, and heterosexual married persons even more, stop  thinking of ourselves more highly than we ought, we’ll find ourselves in conversation with those we once might have considered targets for outreach. Sexual identity categories distract us from the calling that rings true for everyone: ‘You are not condemned. Go on your way, and do not sin again.'” (122). All of our sexuality is broken, even for those who only experience opposite-sex drives. While a challenging statement, I think this is one of the most helpful portions of her book. Not only does she break down false assumptions, but here she provides a sane response, which boils down to that it’s all level at the foot of the cross. We’re all sexual sinners whether we are attracted to the opposite sex or the same sex. This is not an excuse for same-sex sexual relationships; far from it. Rather, this is a sobering view of our mutual brokenness. She quotes Romans 12:3 where we should not think of ourselves more highly than we ought, but soberly.

While she provides excellent if challenging wisdom about how to view ourselves and others, Paris shies away from the particular judgment Scripture accords homosexual acts. Heterosexual sins are indeed sins; we were made for opposite-sex relations. No, married people are not better than others, but that sexuality is the created norm.. Yet let’s be honest. Homosexual acts do carry special condemnation in the Scriptures. Terms like abomination, confusion, detestable, and given over to degrading passions—these cannot be ignored. As a guy dealing with SSA, it is humbling to own my vast brokenness. These acts are contrary to nature, to how God made things to be. Paris glosses over this and I wish she had addressed it. In the zeal by well-meaning Christians to minister to the gamut of those across the broken sexual spectrum, there’s often the temptation to minimize the danger and sinfulness of homosexual acts. We do need to be ministered to. We need desperately to be brought into the fold, nurtured, loved rather than alienated, and supported in our chastity. Yet at the same time we need to be told the truth.

While this is one of the most troubling, identity-shattering sections of the book, I believe it’s the most instructive. Certainly she demonstrates humility by exposing her own brokenness and the brokenness of those who consider themselves heterosexual. One more caveat: I think in her zeal to expose the false foundation of heterosexuality’s position of power (and abuse of such), she tends to beat up opposite-sex attracted people. If you consider yourself heterosexual, please don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s too much self-castigation in our society as is and she contributes to it. Just be aware of it. Let there be grace. In my writing classes, we were told never to use clichés, but there’s one that’s appropriate and that is that Rome wasn’t built in a day. Let’s take this one step at a time. Let it sink in that sexual identity is a false foundation and what that means for you and how you should view and relate to others different from yourself. Amid your busy lives with families and mortgages and the varied pressures our world puts on us, take a moment to pray for discernment and grace.

Reparative therapy

One of her chapters deals with the subject of reparative therapy, also known as “conversion therapy,” the goal of which is to change sexual orientation from same-sex to opposite-sex. Back in the 1980s there was a huge wave of former homosexuals coming forward after having repented of their previous lifestyles and taken up the banner of ostensibly being freed from their same-sex orientations. They started ministries for the same-sex attracted to help free them of their inclinations and move them toward heterosexuality and, presumably, marriage. Yet how effective were these changes? In her book she cites a study by Christian psychologists Mark Yarhouse and Stanton Jones of people who wished to change their orientation. Their findings fell in a six-part range with no change at one end and complete conversion to opposite-sex attraction at the other. Of the study, complete sexual orientation conversion took place only 15% of the time. I’d expected a far higher percentage, so this was surprising news to me. She brings forth some evidence that shows sexual orientation in both men and women is a mix of both genetics and environment, not just one or the other. A major point of her chapter is that while some are able to change their orientation through therapy or other means, many who try will not.

Paris concludes that it’s not about changing orientation but gaining perspective, which is a departure from the typical liberal/conservative “accept it or fix it” paradigm. “With sexual desire, in particular, two repentances are in order: a turn from judgment to discernment and from cure to care.” (104). This view does not condone sexual activity outside Scriptural mandates nor does it allow for a dismantling of a person’s worth because of non-heterosexual inclinations. I found this section immensely helpful in my own walk and constant struggle with SSA. Maybe my attraction to men will remain for the rest of my days (only the Lord knows for certain), yet even if it does, I can still grow in Christ’s sanctification of me. She critiques the two poles of adversarial morality that condemn sexuality and the inclusive approach that affirms it; here she promotes discernment and discipleship—moving towards holiness. While the struggle with SSA is not something I’d wish on anyone, it can bring about a measure of punctuated discernment, of being truly poor in spirit and knowing deep, deep down that trust in God’s grace is the only lifeline in a seemingly hopeless situation. Paris quotes Jeanette Howard, a former lesbian who left the lifestyle and became celibate but never experienced full conversion: “Now she uses 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 to interpret her same-sex feelings as a weakness through which Christ’s power may be displayed: ‘Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” Amen.

The issue of marriage

In this section, she explodes the myths of sexual fulfillment and “true love.” She warns about distorting marriage by seeking to find our fulfillment in it rather than in Christ. Our society teaches that sex is necessary to be a functional and happy adult. Paris points out, “The sexual identity framework encourages us to focus on inner sexual feelings and then use them to define our identities and as a venue for pursuing self-fulfillment.” This is one of the most sobering, yet clarifying statements that she makes. Movies and culture enhance those sexual expectations and the result can prove a disappointing, harrowing pitfall. We look at good sex as part of the “good life,” almost as an entitlement. She says, “Sex can be meaningful, intimate, procreative and even sacred; in these ways, it is a big deal. But when sex is expected to deliver self-actualization and consistently out-of-this-world physical pleasure, it tends to disappoint.” (112). The Church has co-opted this sexual fulfillment mindset to its detriment, and thus we’re building our marriages upon a false premise. A related topic she addresses is chastity before marriage and how the Church has expounded the promise that if you wait, sex will be perfect and ecstatic all of the time. But it isn’t. She asks if it is any wonder that that the divorce rate in the church is as high as the divorce rate of the world around us. Our failure is trusting in the wrong guarantees.

What about sex outside the crucible of marriage? Paris quotes the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-12) and the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). Here Jesus calls for rigorous purity far beyond that of the Law, and yet demonstrates gentle treatment for those guilty. Paul backs this up in light of repentance (Romans 2:3-4). Our Lord is so utterly amazing. He turns everything on its head! He doesn’t dismiss the woman’s sin nor does He tolerate the vicious hypocrisy of the Pharisees. The same is true for those caught in the continuum of unbiblical sexual practice. And how are heterosexual believers to address this? Her answer is, ” Sexual identity categories distract us from the calling that rings true for everyone: ‘You are not condemned. Go on your way, and do not sin again.'” (122). This then leads to her final chapter on the difficult, controversial subject of celibacy.

What is this celibacy thing?

If unmarried sex is out, and same-sex sex is out, and being married isn’t an option, what is left? Long and short, it’s celibacy. Paris brings a number of helpful insights on the topic. To begin, it’s a difficult life to pursue no matter the context of the celibacy (premarital short-term, long-term, married with inability to have sex, holy orders, etc.). In a society that promotes sexual fulfillment, the option of refraining from sex because of orientation comes across as crass or foolish. Paris says that though she supports celibacy, we lack the social infrastructure to make it a viable lifestyle.

There are problems with celibacy, to be sure. She notes that in Western society, the ideas of desire and doing are closely linked. That is, happy are those who know what they want and pursue it. We live in a harm-based system, which is a philosophy that states if what you do doesn’t harm anyone else, then it must be acceptable. The hypersexualized media makes the pursuit of celibacy all the much onerous. From movies to advertising to social media, we are inundated with sexual messages and imagery. I saw my first condom commercial on TV the other day. I was watching a movie with my teenage nephews when the commercial ran. We were all shocked. What kind of message is this portraying? Even raised in a godly household as they are, how will they process or understand this message? It’s made an imprint, and one none too subtle, either (the commercial carried graphic imagery and not-subtle language).

One difficulty she mentions is that Christian celibacy isn’t viewed as a valid “plausibility structure.” What she means by this is a cultural framework: “—the language, beliefs, assumptions and norms—that supports a way of life.” (129). She goes on to state the obvious, that both sexual holiness and celibacy are strange things in a culture where they aren’t reinforced, that it’s a hard road. “Of course it’s a hard road!” I want to shout. As if anticipating this response, she then quotes Hebrews about our being pilgrims passing through this world, citizens of another kingdom. “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.” Hebrews 11:13-14 (NIV) (129).

In the same chapter, she notes celibacy has different levels of acceptance in other cultures and cites Hindu culture, Shaker culture, and Catholic monasticism. Celibacy grows easier if there is a support structure in place, if it is viewed as acceptable and given a meaningful place in society. It’s obviously not in ours. My secular friends register shock at my decision to remain chaste; the underlying thought is how could I choose such a lifestyle and “miss out.” That begs the question of what then should be done. Paris suggests that churches make room for celibates by marrieds cultivating relationships with them, bringing them into their lives. Finding social roles for celibates. Even changing Sunday School class formats so they do not reflect the single/married binary (my church does a good job of this). One of my church’s teaching elders even suggested a form of holy vows for celibates within the church, a body within the body in order to foster community among celibates. While this last idea made me scratch my head initially, now it doesn’t seem far-fetched. What other ways can celibates engage and be engaged by marrieds?  This is something I’d like to see grow in the church. But, and let me stress this as much as possible, this wouldn’t be a reparative community, not a community devoted to make same-sex attracted people “straight” but rather to live holy lives in light of the Gospel. Together. Bearing with one another’s burdens and bringing our unique talents to the church. Such a group could encompass the larger array of celibates. Some might marry. Many might not. I can tell you now that if there were such a community around when I was growing up that didn’t paint my brokenness as villainous nor condone same-sex relations, it would have made a profound difference in my life. It would have prevented a lot of the heaviness of spirit, confusion, and worry that I experienced. Most of all, it would have given me hope. That’s one reason I’m writing this article: to show there is hope. It doesn’t have to be a lonely road. If there were such a community in the past few decades, perhaps there might not have been the mass exodus of same-sex attracted folks from viable, orthodox Christianity to the left edge of the church or the darkened beyond.

Conclusion

Is your blood pressure up? Does this anger you, make you want to rage against me for saying sexual identity is a fraud? Did it make you want to tune out? Join the club. When I first read her book, I raged against her observations. But then I calmed down and read it again. Maybe you’ll need to read it more than once as you meditate on her observations. Ironic that my reaction was so intense because I’d stopped thinking of myself as gay or straight years ago. I just had no way to qualify where I stood. Now I do. I’m not straight or gay or bisexual. I’m a Christian, a son adopted into God’s family. My identity is as one deeply loved, redeemed from sin and death.

My critiques of her book are few. At times her language is pedantic, as if her book were a thesis rather than for a general audience. There’s a dangerous dash of postmodernism in her writing (she even hints that her classes can lean in that direction). Finally, as I mentioned previously, she lays too much guilt on herself and those who consider themselves heterosexual.

That said, I would highly recommend her book. Paris possesses a keen mind and a deep understanding of the issues. I applaud her work on such a volatile topic, one she handles with respect and grace. Her bravery in doing so is to be applauded. The viewpoint she espouses—in the negation of homosexuality and heterosexuality as identities—flies in the face of both liberal and conservative mindsets. She will challenge you as she challenged me.

Final thoughts

This is a thorny topic. Our identities are vital to us. When you go poking at the deepest parts of people’s identities, you can get vigorous, often thorny, rebuttal. “Of course I am straight/lesbian/homosexual/bisexual/etc.” But are you? I realize this is hard to accept, especially since we get this from both sides of the political and theological spectrum. But take heart, Jesus has overcome the world. I don’t have all the answers. Neither does Paris. But this is a starting point. Read her book. Think over it. Most of all pray and meditate on God’s Word. Then you can be ready to move from sexual identity to something far better, your identity as a beloved child adopted into God’s family.

*Page numbers based on the Kindle version of her book