One of the most intense debates I ever had my kids when I first started watching Steven Universe with them, was whether or not fusion was a metaphor for sexual intercourse.
I suppose a statement like that needs some careful unpacking, so let me open the suitcase. As I mentioned in my last post in this series, Steven Universe is a cartoon that aired from 2013 – 2019 on the Cartoon Network, and one of my kids’ favorite shows. It follows the adventures of a half-gem/half-human teenager named Steven Universe, as he defends planet Earth from invasion by the Gems of Homeworld. The Gems are an alien species of sentient gemstones, hellbent on colonizing the galaxy. These aliens themselves have no human form, but are able to project physical, anthropomorphic bodies from their gems (their gemstones then become “fixtures” on their projected bodies, allowing the gem itself to move about with the body it is projecting). Steven is aided in his mission by a band of rebel Crystal Gems, who themselves have revolted against the Gems of Homeworld to become the self-appointed guardians of planet Earth.
So far this simply seems like the stuff of a good, old-fashioned Sci-Fi adventure. Original, to be sure, but nothing especially controversial.
Enter the concept of fusion.
Because at some point in Season 1 of Steven Universe, the show revealed that most gems have the ability to “fuse” with another gem, so as to create a more powerful new gem, one that is a combination of the character, qualities, and powers of them both. In order to initiate fusion, two consenting gems (that is to say, the “physical forms” of two consenting gems), engage in an elaborate and, truth be told, somewhat sensuous dance, at the end of which their two bodies come together and merge, forming a new body in a blinding flash of light.
The first time I saw a scene in Steven Universe depicting the fusion of two gems, it seemed so obviously a cipher for intercourse that I almost blushed. I was, admittedly, watching it with my two middle-school-aged daughters at the time, and, well, I’ll let you be the judge:
I have not delved very far into the Steven Universe universe online, but my understanding is that there is a bit of disagreement in the fandom over whether or not fusion really is meant to be a metaphor for sex. Certainly my family had our own debate after the show. To be honest, my kids were somewhat chagrined and more than a little offended to hear my wife and I suggest that fusion could be anything other than the innocent merger of two superheroes’ super powers for the sake of creating an even greater super hero.
Here are the arguments they advanced against our reading that fusion was an intentional, if subtle metaphor for intercourse. A) The gems are asexual aliens. Yes, their physical forms are always female, but that’s part of the aesthetic; these bodies are merely projections of each gem’s gemstone, and the gems themselves are gender neutral. B) The gems are able to fuse with each other in all sorts of combinations (even three gems at a time), on and off pretty much at will. If fusion were really a metaphor for sex, the gems would be grossly promiscuous. C) Dad, this is a kids show!
Over the course of five seasons, however, the evidence seems to mount, that the show is using fusion as a narrative device for exploring and discussing sexual relationships. A) Steven fuses with his best friend Connie (creating a hybrid human named “Stevonnie”), proving that under certain conditions, humans are able to fuse, too. B) It’s revealed that Garnet, one of the main characters in the story, is really a fusion of two gems, Ruby and Sapphire, who fell in love with each other back on Homeworld and were sent into exile for engaging in fusion with gems of a different variety (normally, rubies can only fuse with other rubies, and so on). C) Later on in the series, Ruby and Sapphire get married, fusing into Garnet at the end of the ceremony. D) When Pearl is threatened by Greg (Steven’s human father), because Rose Quartz is falling in love with him, she fuses with Rose to form “Rainbow Quartz,” as a way of making him jealous. E) And then, of course, there’s the sensual nature of the fusion scenes themselves.
In the eyes of a heterosexual middle-aged male, it’s hard to see how fusion couldn’t be about sex, whatever else it is about.
But this brings me, at last, to the real point of this post. As I mentioned previously, one of the reasons I’m spending time exploring an obscure kid’s show like this—besides the fact that my own kids were such fans—is that I think it allows us to look at LGBTQ issues with a fresh set of eyes, from a perspective that is one step removed from the issues themselves, and so, hopefully, more objective.
When I look at fusion from this perspective, one of the things it helps me to understand—and this is so crucial for understanding same-sex relationships in the church—is that sex isn’t just about sex.
What I mean is that our sexuality is this integrated part of ourselves that touches on, and is touched by, all other aspects of our lives. Our emotional well-being, our financial stability, our status in community, our prospects for the future, our physical health, our spiritual maturation, and more, all impact, and are impacted by our sexuality. If I am married, for instance, I have more financial stability and career options than I do if I am not. If I have a consistent, faithful, sexual partner in my life, I am more likely to be physically and emotionally healthy. Shoot: even my life expectancy increases if I’m in a committed, monogamous sexual relationship. The benefits are more pronounced if I am married and part of a church, where I have all kinds of ministries devoted to me—from marriage enrichment seminars and well-run nurseries—and all kinds of preaching series tailored to me—from how to have a happy marriage to how to enjoy God’s plan for sex.
If fusion really is about sex, then the truth is that it’s not only, or even especially about sex; because sex itself is not only about sex. Sex is a thread woven into the big woolen sweater of human life, and you can’t start pulling on it without all the others bunching up and coming with.
To be clear, I’m not saying that sexual activity is itself necessary for a person to be healthy, happy, well-adjusted, and so on. Far from it (you can read my series on celibacy, if you want, to get a sense just how far I am from saying that). Chastity and celibacy, properly understood, can both be vibrant expressions of human sexuality, in their own right.
So I’m not saying “you have to have sex to be happy.”
What I am saying is that often discussions of LGBTQ issues in traditional Christian circles focus almost exclusively on the physical “sex acts” in question, as though a gay relationship is only about sex; only a means to a strictly sexual end. Statements like “It’s okay to be gay, just don’t act on it,” tend to communicate this. So do statements like “love the sinner hate the sin.”
To do better, we must recognize that people are integrated wholes, and as such our sexual experience is connected to all the other things that make us who we are. We can’t talk about the one without touching on the others, and if we want to talk about the one well, we will have to address the others also. To have the theological conversation about same-sex sexuality honestly, we will have to acknowledge first that same-sex relationships are about far more than just sex, just like gay people are far more than just a “sexual orientation.” More than merely acknowledge it, we will have to compassionately and humbly admit the ways in which our posture towards same-sex sexuality, whatever that posture may be, may be impacting, influencing, or causing harm to these other areas of the LGBTQ person’s life.
Strange as it may sound, as someone who has been working at a doctoral level on this stuff for more than five years, it was the concept of fusion, in the kid’s show Steven Universe, that made me wrestle with this fact most profoundly. Seeing Garnet and Amethyst fuse on Steven Universe actually helped me notice the prejudices, the presuppositions, and the assumptions that I had when it came to same-sex sexuality. In an ironic twist of logic, I looked at fusion, and because it was clearly about relationships, togetherness, mutual love, care, support, friendship, and even sensuality, it must therefore be about sex; and then I turned around and assumed that, if it’s about sex, than it can’t be about any of those other things. It’s only because it was a kid’s show that I realized how unfair I was being.
But thank God I came to see.
It may not be a kid’s show that does it for you, but what ever it is, I hope you, too, have opportunities to come to understand how much more same-sex relationships are about, than simply some particular sexual acts. And may you find the conversations you are having with the LGBTQ people in your life becoming deeper, richer, and more compassionate, as a consequence.
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