Doing a manly job

In 1993, the Rev. Hattie Horne reached a point where "I could either do what God wants or what man wants. So I decided to do what God wants." She wasn't using "man" in the generic, "mankind" sense. She meant it in the specific, gender-related way. She wanted to become a pastor, but the male minister at her church believed that women weren't qualified.

So, she quit and started her own church. Actually, it was more like a prayer group that held meetings at her house, which was convenient because most of the people who attended were family members.

"It was myself and Iris, my aunt, cousins, sons and grandchildren," she said.

Iris Cather was, and is still, Horne's entire support staff. But these days the family members have been joined by enough others to form the 150-member True Love Church at 1525 Glenwood Av. in Minneapolis.

Horne, 62, is one of only 23 black women who are senior pastors in the Twin Cities. With 312 African-American churches in the metro area, that means that 7 percent of them have women as senior pastors, a figure in line with nationwide averages.

Horne is convinced that being part of a black church made it tougher for her to be taken seriously as a minister.

"I know plenty of white women ministers who have had it hard, too," she said. "But I do think it's harder in the black church. Too many black churches are run by boards that are still all-male. They're the good old boys, and they make separate programs for the women. Well, I don't believe in separate women's programs, and I don't believe in the good old boys."

"I'm not saying that changes haven't occurred," Collier-Thomas said. "But the changes have come incrementally. It's still a male-dominated society. In terms of ascending to the point where women can function as equals to men, no, we're not there yet."

Not all African-American female clergy have encountered sexism, said the Rev. Gloria Roach-Thomas at Camphor United Methodist Church in St. Paul.

"Sure, I faced challenges, but I don't think they were any different because I'm a woman," she said. "It was hard at times, but anything that is part of your purpose in life is going to be hard. My father always told me that I could do anything I wanted if I worked hard enough."

Not holding a grudge

Horne was willing to work, but she wasn't in a position to drop everything and enter a seminary. It took her eight years to work the classes into her schedule. She used her vacations to attend out-of-town seminars, and she sought advice every chance she got.

Horne doesn't want to call out her old church or its minister. When she encounters the minister, "I greet him with respect and keep moving."

Her decision to start her own ministry did not sit well with many of her old church's members.

"The women were the worst," she said. "They'd say things like, 'My grandma told me that women should never preach.' Once people get their minds warped, they refuse to change. They'd rather have a bad man preacher, just because he's a man, than a good woman preacher."

The growth of Horne's ministry springs from her energy and optimism, both of which seem endless. She sets out to give her members hope and the motivation to do something about that hope. Her congregation has followed her around town, from her home to space she rented in south Minneapolis, then to a string of ever-bigger buildings the church has owned. It bought its current home on Glenwood Avenue in 2005.

If she has one regret, it's that she didn't act sooner. After failing to win her minister's blessing, she waited three years before striking out on her own.

Another lesson she learned is that if someone feels called by God, she shouldn't try to intercept the call as her former pastor did. When church member Doris Spicer came to her in 2003 and said that she wanted to become a minister, Horne offered to serve as her mentor.

"I don't want to block anyone's path to the Lord," she said. "God spoke to me in the way I was treated. He allowed me to see how I should treat people."

Spicer -- now the Rev. Spicer who oversees True Love Church's youth, singles and marriage ministries -- said of Horne, "She's a strong person who knows who she is and isn't afraid to say what's in her heart. She was determined to keep this thing moving forward with people's help or without it."

As for Horne, she'd much rather focus on the positives that lie ahead than the negatives in the past.

"I feel blessed," she said. "No," she said, shaking her head at what she'd just said, "I know that I'm blessed."