Transgender and Pro-Life

Tags

Acts 15, blood, Born Thrice, cancel culture, Christian, Christian walk, communion, compassion, congregation, conscience, crying, division, elder, epiphany, faith, fellowship, friendship, Genesis 9, Gentile Christians, God, God's will, heartbeat, heartbroken, Holy Spirit, innocent blood, Intersex, Jeremiah, Jesus Christ, Judah, Judas, libertarian, lifeblood, Matthew 27, Matthew 7:3-5, Meat, meditate, ministry, pastor, PCUSA, pledge, Pontius Pilate, preborn child, Presbyterian, pro-choice, pro-life, rainbow, recommend, repentance, sacrifice, Salvation Army, selective abortion, singing, spiritual presence, star, stewardship, tears, Transgender, vow, welcome, writing

This is part two of my extended post regarding my process of deciding between two churches.  I ended part one talking about favoring the PCUSA church and having a strong reaction to an e-mail that led me to meditate some more.

It wasn’t long before the Lord spoke to me and I realized why I reacted so strongly.  It tied in with a link to a story I received on Facebook, a BBC News story about a midwife in Kenya who had saved two Intersex babies.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-39780214?SThisFB&fbclid=IwAR14VC_myVcSubgDv5jMLn37_lyUExIl9MLLFtSz07b5q__AAXlk9KOtxzI

First of all, I identify with Intersex people because the brain is also an organ in the body (in fact the most sexual organ in the body) and because so many of my secondary sex characteristics are female (without surgery and before cross gender hormones).  And soon the Lord spoke a phrase that resonated with me: “innocent blood”.  It is a phrase that I count occurring 22 times in 21 verses in the KJV (all but one in the Old Testament).

Suddenly it became clear to me.  It surprised me and I wasn’t happy about it.  But my eyes were opened.  I am most sure it is from the Lord when I receive an answer I am not looking for but once I examine it, I see how well it fits.

An item that wasn’t even on my original list of comparison categories was what God wanted me to see.  I knew that the Salvation Army is pro-life (as am I) while the PCUSA church is pro-choice.  The pastor at the latter church knew that we disagreed on that issue and acknowledged that basically we disagreed on when life begins.  It was an important issue for me, but not a deal-breaker.  I am neither able to bear children or father one.  Yet at the insistent prodding of the Holy Spirit, it became the sole factor in choosing which church to leave, for two reasons.

20 week ultrasound

First was the selective abortion issue.  If unwanted children can be killed after they’re born in the 21^st century, how is that different than killing them in the womb?  Perhaps it is theoretical now, but at some point with continued technological advances it may be possible to determine if a preborn child is transgender.  An unwanted transgender child who can be aborted will probably be aborted.  The difficulty in saving two Intersex children, knowing that many are not saved, hit very close to home for me.

Second was the idea of innocent blood.  The most pure innocent blood that ever existed on earth was that of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Even Judas testifies to the innocence of the blood of Jesus (Matthew 27:4) and Pontius Pilate tried his best to avoid associating with the guilt from the shedding of His blood (Matthew 27:24).  But close behind is the blood of preborn children.  In their mother’s womb, they are doing what they are designed to do: draw resources from their mother until they develop enough to survive outside the womb.  (And with technological advances, that age is getting younger and younger.)  As far as I know they are still in a state of innocence, having committed no sins.  And yet, if there is blood in them, there is life.  And that was one of the first things I did: look up when blood starts to form in a preborn child.  The answer: the heart starts to beat and pump fluid through blood vessels around day 20-22.  The first red blood cells begin to form the next day.

God’s timing is perfect.  And God has interesting ways to confirm His message.

I attended the Bible study after the worship service at the PCUSA church on 1/5/20.  The group is studying Genesis but I missed some Sundays so I didn’t know how far they had gotten.  It turned out that we covered the last three verses of chapter 8 and the first seventeen verses of chapter 9.  The pastor asked me to read the verses in chapter 9.

After reading and some discussion, I mentioned that this reading covered two very important topics for me: the rainbow (being transgender) and the blood.  The pastor nodded and I assume she thought I was referring to my salvation, or maybe to Communion (my original reason for attending there, although she didn’t know I didn’t take it that day).  But I was referring to verse 4: “But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat.”  The life, according to God, is in the blood.  This is reiterated in Leviticus 17:11 and Deuteronomy 12:23.  So important was this idea that when the early leaders of the Church were confronted with the first Gentile followers of Jesus, not eating meat with blood in it was one of only four rules they gave these converts to follow (Acts 15: 20,29).

(And yes, I plan to look closer at my eating habits in the near future in regards to eating meat.  But one issue at a time: this would be a separate blog post.)

Ironically, the pastor also unwittingly provided the second confirmation of my choice to leave.  It has become her practice around the celebration of Epiphany to hand out stars with “star words” on them: words to meditate on, gaze at and follow.  The stars are upside down paper cutouts in a basket which she circulates and each person picks one.  Sitting in the back, I was one of the last to take one.  Only I picked up two, so as carefully as I could without looking at either word, I put back the one on top and took the one whose word at most I might have caught a glimpse of.

The basket was handed back and I looked at the word.  I smiled although a bit wanly.  The word was “repentance”.  We were given time to meditate on the word during the service and answer some questions about it.  I immediately saw the connection to my situation. While the word is used specifically in religion to regret one’s sins and turn away from them, in general it can simply mean to turn around or turn back.  I was turning my attention back to the church where I am a member.  At the end of the Bible study after I announced that it was my last Sunday, I shared the word.  The pastor blinked a bit of surprise but then nodded.  She understood how the broader meaning confirmed my decision.

Remember that career counselor I mentioned in part one?  Something else he used to say was along the lines of “You don’t realize you’ve reached a new destination until you pass it.”  While I had started to switch a greater percentage of my time to the PCUSA church in mid-late winter 2019 with all the pastoral turmoil at the Salvation Army, I think what made it come to a head was being present at the PCUSA church for Stewardship Sunday (when I sang my second solo).  Not only did I make a financial commitment, I was making commitments of time and talent.  By doing so, I had put the cart before the horse.  Yet it’s all good because it cornered me into deciding whether to fish or cut bait.  And for the record, I kept my financial vow for the entire year on the first Sunday.  It will be impossible for me to keep the other vows, as they can understand.

I still love this church, the pastor and the congregation.  I couldn’t reach everyone and some weren’t there on Sunday, but among those I told, I was prayed for, encouraged, thanked, received words of regret for me leaving and had a few of my tears wiped away.  I would heartily recommend this church to anyone who doesn’t share my convictions on pro-life.  In fact I recommended this church to a Christian member of the transgender community at lunch on the day after I said goodbye.  They welcome anyone of any identity.  The only thing they do not welcome are those who champion hate and bigotry.

And this is an important thing for me to make clear: I do not believe that their pro-choice position comes from hatred or evil, not for one minute.  I believe it comes from different interpretations and a different focus for their expression of compassion.  And as I stated in the beginning of this post, I do make exceptions.  (And unlike some followers of Christ, I do not believe that birth control is a sin.)  For two years I thought I could agree to disagree on this topic and continue my association with them, whether part-time, full-time or even back to the occasional Communion Sunday throughout the year.

It would have made my life a lot easier if I could have continued there.  I am continuing to shed tears because I am not.  But as I shared with some people, it was like Acts 16 when Paul and his entourage were planning on leaving Mysia to go to Bithynia, but the Holy Spirit would not allow it and bid them go to Macedonia from Troas instead.

And in the future, that same Spirit may open the door for me to do some things with the pastor and other members of the PCUSA church.  This past Sunday, she announced that their church would be cooperating with the Salvation Army in collecting warm winter garb for those locally in need.  Perhaps I had a part in that.  I know her opinion of the Army is higher after my ongoing testimony about how I have been welcomed there.

Leaving the PCUSA church will be a sacrifice for me on many levels.  Because of where I live, the turnover is much greater at my Salvation Army corps than the typical corps and certainly higher than at the PCUSA church.  Therefore I was able to develop and maintain friendships easier at the PCUSA church.  Even as a non-member, ministry doors and opportunities to share my abilities were much easier at the PCUSA church.  As an adherent member at the Army in a corps top heavy with officers and soldiers, my avenues for service were more limited.  Furthermore, ministry opportunities were decreasing.  Without a presence at the PCUSA church, it will be harder for me to find avenues for my writing, my singing and getting my Born Thrice ministry off the ground.

Yet I have no idea whether God wants me to prosper in any of these areas, regardless of where I am.  I do know that it is more likely that God will not bless me if I am somewhere other than where He wants me to be.  And even if I achieve some success while in a church against His will, it doesn’t mean that the Lord will ultimately bless me with it.

This is definitely a walk of faith, not knowing what the future holds.  At present, it seems very inconvenient with negative consequences to choose what I perceive as God’s will for my life over my own feelings.  Some might even call me foolish for walking away from such an extraordinarily supportive church when so many transgender people are searching in vain for one.  There are times when the Christian walk reaps a bountiful harvest and times when it calls for sacrifice.  This is a time of sacrifice.

At this point, I am not even certain that I will be staying with the Salvation Army.  I started going to the PCUSA church a few times a year to fill one void: the lack of Communion.  Certainly there were a lot of positives at the PCUSA church to draw me.  But as fellowship decreased, ministry opportunities decreased, effective communications decreased and confusion increased at the Army, I had more voids to fill.  The only good news is that little or none of these things happened because I am transgender.  Even so, I have sent hard questions to the pastors at the Salvation Army to see what is happening to get things back on track.  Even if I stay, I am back at square one, looking for a church where I can celebrate communion a few times a year (or I have the daunting task of finding enough people who would want to celebrate communion privately; as someone who has been ordained as an elder, I believe I would qualify to serve communion).

If I don’t stay, I have to find a church within reasonable driving distance that is conservative enough to be pro-life but open-minded enough to welcome someone who is transgender; and they also have to celebrate Holy Communion in a manner that I can theologically accept (generally what is known as “spiritual presence”).  I may have some digging to do.  A number of churches in my local area are scrubbing their stance on LGBT and abortion from their websites.

One thing I know for sure is that my heart is breaking over leaving the people at the PCUSA church.  When I consider leaving the Salvation Army corps, I don’t sense an intense emotional reaction.

I have stated my conscience on the issue.  Each person has to deal with their own conscience as to what they would do in their own life and what they believe for society.  If there was universal agreement on when life begins, the issue would resolve itself.  But there isn’t that agreement.  I have many perspectives from which to view this issue (scientifically, spiritually/morally as a Christian, politically as someone leaning more and more Libertarian, and legally as an American constitutionalist) and they don’t all agree.

Besides, we live in such a cancel culture these days and I am not the ideal spokesperson on the issue.  So I will leave that to those who have either given birth or have the capacity to do so, and to others who can speak with expertise on the various elements of the topic.  My primary focus (and the focus of my blog) will remain the intersection between being Christian and being transgender.

At the same time, I live in the United States, a country that I see becoming more divided and irreconcilable, trending more to the extreme.  We have had our highs and lows as a country, but we could at least agree that as a country we had lofty ideals that attracted the world.  Now we can’t even seem to agree on that.  One side emphasizes all the positives of America and the other side emphasizes all the negatives.  And this divide is being reflected in the Christian community.  (The blog post on the Church divide has been posted; the national divide post is in progress.)

So I am concerned for my country.  I note two places in Jeremiah where God reveals to the prophet what He will do if Judah does right.  The second time, He also reveals what He will do if Judah does wrong.  And He defines what He means by doing right or wrong.

For if ye throughly amend your ways and your doings; if ye throughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbour; If ye oppress not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and shed not innocent blood in this place, neither walk after other gods to your hurt: Then will I cause you to dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers, for ever and ever. – Jeremiah 7:5-7

Log is a barrier, but where’s the speck?

I believe that both churches and their respective denominations do an excellent job of advocating for good government and justice for all, going the extra mile and more to help those most in need.  Neither of them are worshiping or promoting false gods.  And we could argue that the nation at large has fallen short in all these areas.  But we also have that commandment to not shed innocent blood.  There are many headlines that could be used as examples of innocent blood being shed.  Over the years, I have learned that we get nowhere in solving problems by pointing fingers at each other: if we are both contributing to the problem in our own way, the beginning of the solution is to point the finger at ourselves.  Whether it is a speck of sawdust or a log in the other person’s eye, we can be most effective after taking the log out of our own eye.

But for now it is tears, not logs, in my eyes.  I miss the pastor and congregation at the PCUSA church very much.  I am heartbroken more than I can say.  Holding onto and trusting my dear Lord is what sustains me for now.

Thus saith the LORD; Execute ye judgment and righteousness, and deliver the spoiled out of the hand of the oppressor: and do no wrong, do no violence to the stranger, the fatherless, nor the widow, neither shed innocent blood in this place. For if ye do this thing indeed, then shall there enter in by the gates of this house kings sitting upon the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses, he, and his servants, and his people. But if ye will not hear these words, I swear by myself, saith the LORD, that this house shall become a desolation. – Jeremiah 22:3-5

God bless,

Lois

A Tale of Two Churches

Tags

1st Kings 18:21, abortion, acceptance, analogy, Arminian, Baal, baby, breakup, Calvinist, Catholic, Christian, Christmas Eve, church, closure, common prayer, comparison, confession, consolation, crying, denomination, diversity, doctor, Elijah, Esau, Ethicist, family, fellowship, Genesis 32-33, God, Holy Communion, hospital, Human Sexuality, Jacob, limping, Marriage, meditate, message, minister, moral dilemma, open, pastor, PCUSA, playing God, pray, pregnancy, Presbyterian, Reformed, rejection, reunion, Salvation Army, Scripture, storytelling, tears, the Lord, theology, Transgender, Wesleyan Methodist, Worship Service

Many transgender Christians have difficulty finding one church that accepts them.  I found two.  And therein has been the cause of a struggle I faced since mid-December.  I realized that I can no longer split my time between them.

How to decide?  The process was more difficult than expected and led me places I didn’t foresee.  It was the most joyous of times; it was the most miserable of times.  To give the story proper context, I need to go back to when my parents and their siblings were young adults during the Great Depression.

My mom’s relationship with my dad’s family (especially my paternal grandfather) was usually like oil and water.  So I knew that when my mom said something praiseworthy about them, it was time to sit up and take notice.

I inherit my storytelling abilities from my mom.  But there were certain topics that were reserved for “when you’re older”.  Anything related to human sexuality was one of those topics.  And this was typical for the 1950’s.

So when my mom told me a certain story about my aunt and uncle early in my teen years, I doubly knew to pay attention.  It was the story of my aunt’s first pregnancy and how she lost the baby.  This would have been in the late 1930’s, a couple of years before their first surviving child was born.

My dad’s family was Roman Catholic.  So when my aunt developed complications, my uncle brought her to a hospital that was affiliated with the Catholic Church. There they heard the sad news.  They could save my aunt or they could save the baby, but not both.  However, it was their strict policy that they would attempt to save the life of the baby.  I guess the best they could offer was to hope and pray for a miracle to save my aunt’s life, and they expected my aunt and uncle to feel the same way.

They didn’t feel the same way.  They felt that they could have more children much easier than it would be for my uncle to raise a baby as a single parent and to hope he could find another wife (and mother for this child).

My uncle checked my aunt out of that hospital and took her to another one, one that wasn’t Catholic.  There the doctors followed the wishes of my aunt and uncle.  They delivered the baby to save the life of my aunt.  The baby didn’t survive.  But they had two children who survived into their senior citizen years.  And my aunt survived over forty years.  I’m thirteen years younger than their oldest son and I was able to drive to my aunt’s funeral.

My mom agreed with their decision on the child that didn’t survive.  I knew by the tone of her voice even before she said so.  It taught me that not every situation is cut and dried.  Circumstances have to be weighed.  Ethicists pose difficult questions like these to show that sometimes people have to face hard choices.  Unfortunately some of those questions can be so far-fetched they can almost distract you from the moral dilemma (e.g. trolleys loaded with explosives and you have to throw a switch to determine whether it will hit your mother tied to the track or many people on the other track).  My aunt and uncle faced a real life situation with two sets of doctors.  Someone would live and someone would die no matter what decision they made.  And if they made no decision at all, someone would still die.  So if that was playing God, so be it.

As far as I know, no one would die if I did nothing and continued to split my time between two churches.  And no one would die regardless of which church I chose.  But I did begin to feel in my spirit that by splitting between both churches, neither was getting my best.  Both were being cheated.  It was taking a lot of mental and spiritual energy to keep track, especially when I started to sing in both choirs.  In fact, it was becoming overwhelming.  I also began to realize it wouldn’t make sense if I invited someone to go to church with me and then the following week I went to a different church.

Both are fairly mainstream churches when it comes to the basics of their Christian theology.  One (Salvation Army) is Wesleyan Methodist and therefore Arminian in terms of their views on salvation.  The other (Presbyterian) is in the Calvinist Reformed tradition in terms of their views on salvation (and is in the same denomination I was raised).  I am a member of the first, but felt doors opening for ministry in the second.  Both accept that I am transgender, but I feel that I can be more open about it at the second church (although that isn’t necessarily true nationwide for this denomination: I know of a trans woman who was a minister in this denomination in a neighboring county who was treated poorly when she came out).

So I began to do what any Christian should do in this situation: pray.  Specifically I prayed to hear from God for His guidance.  And I didn’t get a direct answer right away.  But I did begin to receive encouraging reminders of times in the past when I heard from God.  One of the reminders brought me back to a time when my ex came back into my life for a season almost 25 years after our marriage broke up.

That time, God gave me a passage of scripture: not an exact parallel, but with similarities.  It was the story of how Jacob returned from Padanaram, the land of his ancestors, and was preparing to meet his brother Esau.  Jacob left with the knowledge that Esau wanted to kill him.  He had no idea how Esau would receive him upon his return.  While my ex didn’t want to kill me, she had become very hostile and wanted me totally out of her life.  I had no idea how she would react when a third party told her that I had found her.

I had not searched for her looking to remarry her.  I was trying to return something of value that belonged to her son (my stepson).  In fact, the information I had was that she had remarried (true, but I didn’t know of a subsequent divorce).  Even so, when my Christian friends heard the story of what it took for me to find her and reconnect, most of them assumed that it was God bringing us back together, especially when they learned she was single again.  I tried to remain cautious, mindful of the past, but it was hard not to get swept up in their enthusiasm.  But God had given me the story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis 32-33 for an additional reason: Jacob and Esau don’t stay together very long.  It is on friendlier terms this time, but they soon part ways again.

And so my ex and I connected in July, split in September, reconnected in December and split one last time the following May.  Instead of for reconciliation, God meant it so I would have closure.  Unfortunately, it was more acrimonious than the second separation of Jacob and Esau.  (And to my knowledge, she knows nothing about my gender transition.)

This time, God gave me 1^st Kings 18:21.  God has sent the prophet Elijah to challenge the people of Israel (by this time, the ten tribes of the northern kingdom).  They are trying to worship both Baal and the LORD.  But the two are incompatible.  Only one can be the true God: Elijah tells them to only worship whichever one is the true God.

It took a while for the Lord to get my full attention with this verse.  Then I got hit with a bout of sciatica the Thursday before Thanksgiving and my legs still aren’t 100% back to normal.  So now I was literally limping around (as the modern versions describe how Israel was moving between their two beliefs).

I know that the analogy is not perfect.  I know this is not a contest between good and evil.  I know that both churches worship the true God, even if they have some differences in their understanding of God, theology and priorities of service.  So I know that I can’t pit them against one another in some sort of a challenge match (as was done between 450 prophets of Baal and Elijah the lone representative of the LORD).  Yet when I was at a loss on how to proceed, all I could think of doing was to set up some sort of logical comparison.  I was going to compare them in various areas and then weight the areas as to which were more important to me.

And it was no surprise that before weighting the areas, it came out pretty even.  Some areas were ties.  One church is more evenly divided between men and women and also more diverse in age with more children and younger adults.  The other church will have a harder time surviving if it doesn’t start to attract more young adults and children who will stay with the church when they become adults.  If a transgender friend is willing to accept an invitation to church, many of them would probably be more comfortable in one than the other, although there would be exceptions.  I enjoyed the fellowship at both, but at one more than the other; therefore it was more likely that I might develop close friendships at that church.  One church had a more modern and less liturgical worship service than the other and I tended to prefer that, even though it ran a bit longer.

At some point in the process, I decided to employ a technique I learned years ago from my career counselor: if “both” doesn’t work, “neither” probably will.  In other words, if I couldn’t decide from going to both churches, stepping away for a season and going to neither church for worship or choir practice probably will help.  But then I violated that a bit by going to the Christmas Eve service at both churches.  The Salvation Army service was first.  When I left there for the seven minute drive to the other church, I thought I had made up my mind to pick the Presbyterian (hereafter called PCUSA) church.

I was shocked within a few minutes of being there.  In two weeks’ time, it didn’t feel like the same church any more.  It didn’t feel like my church.  The arrangements of carols we rehearsed in choir practice had been altered.  I rebelled against saying common prayers and part of me didn’t know why.  I was sullen.  I knew I couldn’t go up to receive communion in that mood, so I didn’t.  And that was initially the only reason I sought out a second church!

I was able to light my candle and sing “Silent Night”, badly.  (It is really difficult to sing while choking back tears.)  And then I couldn’t leave the pew because all I wanted to do was cry.  The more people came to see me and then minister to me, the more I cried.  Those who knew I was in the process of deciding assumed I was crying because I had made my decision to leave.  I tried to explain that I arrived thinking that I had chosen them, but it was hard to convey that.

In fact, I felt like I was in a wrestling match.  My heart, head, feelings and emotions were doing battle with each other and the Holy Spirit.  Now my limping was more like what Jacob went through the night before he reunited with Esau.  My verse from 2006 was merging with my verse from this autumn.  And after favoring my left leg so long, as that leg started to heal, my right leg was beginning to hurt.

Two people in particular talked a lot with me after the service ended.  That helped calm me down and clarified a few issues for me.  It brought me back to square one and that was okay.  I meditated on the idea of common prayer and how did that compare to hymns and praise music.  I realized that the only one I really had a problem with was the corporate prayer of confession because sometimes there were things in it that were not in my heart to confess.  But I remembered that I had those same feelings years ago.  It wasn’t a deal-breaker then and I could still work around it.  And soon, I was starting to lean toward the PCUSA church again.  I thought about how close I had gotten to many people there and how well I was received after I preached and sang solos.

On the second day of 2020, the pastor of the PCUSA church shared a meme on Facebook that is to the left.  I didn’t comment on it or react to it.  But it made me think and I meditated on it.  The personal preferences in my church comparison were downgraded.  I could be part of the Church’s mission and purpose at either church.  And at both churches I could fill a part where there was a lack if there was a willingness to open that door wider.  So there was no direct push from that part of the statement.  But by decreasing my emphasis on personal preferences, I took away some of the PCUSA church’s advantage.

But the next day, two things occurred that turned the tide.  Still strongly leaning towards the PCUSA church but not quite ready to make a commitment, especially after what happened on Christmas Eve, I sent out an e-mail on Thursday, January 2, saying that I was ready to return to choir practice the following week (i.e. this week: Tuesday at the Salvation Army and Thursday at the PCUSA church).  I also stated that I would be going to the PCUSA church on January 5 and the Salvation Army on January 12, and that I wouldn’t be ready to sing on January 5 since I had missed some choir practices, but that I should be able to sing on January 12 as long as my legs felt good enough to be able to stand.  I had a very strong reaction to a response I received and that gave me another reason to meditate on why I reacted so strongly.

In the second part of this blog post, I will reveal how the Lord spoke to me to show me why I was reacting so strongly.  I will also continue to describe my process and why I haven’t totally made a decision, although I have definitely left one of the two churches.

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. – Psalm 126:5-6

God bless,

Lois

Letter to my previous church – Part 1

Tags

authentic, body of Christ, born again, career, Christian male role models, Christian ministry, Christian walk, Christian witnessing, church, church finances, church list, church split, college, community outreach, congregation, connection, coping, despising shame, fear, female, fruit of the Spirit, GCS, gender counselor, Gender Dysphoria, God, Holy Spirit, imaginary friends, innate gender identity, joy, letter of resignation, Lois Simmons, male immersion, male-oriented activities, Margaret Thatcher, new name, offering counting, operation, pastor, pastoral counseling, peace, persistence, pocket testaments, prayer, prayer partner, reality, red kettles, Salvation Army, self-control, SRS, stray animal, survival, Transgender, transgender community, Transsexual, wanting vs knowing, Women's Bible Study

When I left my previous church (by mutual agreement with the pastor) in November 2012, I wrote a letter of explanation to be shared with the congregation, but it did not include information about being transgender.  When I found out recently that they had been told anyway, this is the letter I would send to my church if I could.

To my dear sisters and brothers in Christ at CBC,

It isn’t often that a person gets to say goodbye twice, or needs to for that matter.  But I believe that I need to.  For when I said goodbye the first time, while I did not lie to you, I also did not tell you some significant details.  I have only recently learned that you have been told those details.  But I would like to tell my own story.

First, let me say that now that I know Pastor’s reasons for telling you, I am in agreement with his reasoning.  I do wish that he would have trusted me enough to tell me he was going to do that, but it is a minor issue.  The bottom line is that both of us had the best interests of the body of Christ at heart.  I was concerned that I might cause a church split, whether I stayed or even if it was known that I was not immediately told to leave.  I never considered the fact that in light of my significant involvement in the handling of the church finances, my sudden departure for vague reasons might raise questions.  Pastor, with his years of experience and leading from the Holy Spirit was sensitive to this issue.  I am grateful.

Indeed, I now believe that one of the reasons that the Lord led me to CBC about ten years ago was that Pastor was precisely the right man to be my counselor at this critical time of my life.  I know a few pastors who I sat under who would not have handled the situation well.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

I have known of my true gender identity since age 7.  That is about the average age at which those who are known as either transgender (more recent terminology) or transsexual (older terminology) discover this information about ourselves.  I believe that the main reason I didn’t know sooner is that until that age, the primary division in people for me was between adult and child.  By the time that I was three or four years old, I was becoming aware that I was considered smart and could do things mentally well beyond what most kids could do.  Yet I was still very limited in what I could and could not do.  So I wanted to be an adult.

Yet I didn’t want to be female.  At age 7, I knew that I was.  So I am very aware of the mental difference between “wanting to be” and “knowing I am”.

This didn’t become particularly problematic for me until I was 10 going on 11. In sixth grade I left public school to go to a private school that had grades six to twelve.  I feel that the combination of a maturing body, changing voice and seeing the gradual progress of my school mates from children to older teens was the reason.  My future was becoming clear to me, and it was not what I wanted.

It was around this time that I started to pray that God would change my body while I slept and I would wake up with a girl’s body.  Surely my parents, teachers, doctors and the church couldn’t argue against that, could they?  It was also around that time that I came up with a new name for myself.  It was perfectly logical to me at the time, and I was surprised to find that very few of us change our names that early in life.  I know of no one else who did it the way that I did.  To my way of thinking at that age, if I was going to “reverse” from a boy to a girl, then I would reverse my name.  And so, with a few tweaks and permutations, I came up with the name by which I am known today: Lois Simmons.  (Much later I added the middle name, Elizabeth, to honor the maternal side of my family.)

Have you ever been in a situation where a child brings home a stray?  If the parents don’t want to keep the animal, they do everything in their power to prevent it from being named.  They know it will be much harder to part with “Fluffy” than with an unnamed stray cat.

In that same way, naming myself was a tether that kept me even more connected to my true identity.  For most of my life, I kept considerable distance away from the transgender community.  That was especially true in most of the years after I was saved.  And even when I did explore on the Internet, my contact with others was either minimal or none at all.  So that extra connection was very important to me.  The fact that the name survived for fifty years, waiting for me to stop denial, is significant to me.  My imaginary friends disappeared by the time that I also knew that Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny were not real.  Lois Simmons is the real me.

Even if you start my story from the time that I went away to college and started to live on my own, that story is 42 years long until the time that I started living full-time as Lois, six days after I last attended CBC.  All the details would be a book, not a letter.  But I can summarize it by saying that my true gender identity survived a decade of struggle to start a career after graduation from college.  It survived the disappointment of a failed marriage of less than a year (over issues totally unrelated to gender) and then further disappointment when that person seriously came back into my life and departed again while I was attending CBC in 2006-7 (as some of you may remember).  It survived the long hours of hard work that it took to gain clients and build a financial business that at one time included investments, insurance and financial planning.  It survived 11 years of extreme poverty that came from a failed second business that was a money pit, a poverty that had ended shortly before I started attending CBC.

My gender identity endured after I was born again and began to grow in my Christian walk.  It endured through all my service to Christian ministry (you know which one, name omitted in obedience to not link its name to outside activities) and whatever church I was attending regularly (four during my adult life, including the one I attend now, the Spring Valley Corps of the Salvation Army, where I am an adherent member).  It endured despite all the wonderful Christian male role models I met in Christian ministry and in those churches.  It endured despite all the other male activities I took part in, whether sports, two years as an engineering major, a male-oriented profession as a stock broker or men’s groups in churches.

It also endured all the years I tried to deny who I really am out of fear: fear of losing my career, fear of what the church would say, fear of what God would do, fear of losing my family, fear of what kind of life I might be forced to live, fear that I would look like a freak or a “guy in a dress”.  It endured all the times over the years that I would pray for the Lord to take this away from me.  (My previous praying for God to change my body stopped after a couple of years.)

It is important to note that as an adult, I have never prayed for God to “make me a woman”.  Nor have I asked that of any person.  No operation or anything else can make that happen.  Either someone’s innate, core gender identity is female or it is not.  As Margaret Thatcher has been quoted, “Power is like being a lady… if you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.”  When my gender counselor asked me why I was requesting her services, my answer was simply that “I want to know the truth.  And I don’t want to make a mistake.”

I have been grieved by some of the things that I have done over the years in my exploration of my identity, especially from late spring to the beginning of autumn in 2011.  (When you started to see me clean-shaven, and with longer hair and nails in at the end of 2011 and in 2012, I was already well along in my healing and seeing confirmation that this is who I really am.  R. M., thank you for the compliment you gave me.)  I am grateful that I never involved anyone physically and never led anyone into a sinful lifestyle online.  (In December 2011, I even started to witness to one husband & wife couple who I met on an adult website!)

People who have stayed in my life tell me that I am happier now.  That is a wonderful blessing but that isn’t why I did it.  I did it to be authentic and that is what I feel I am now.  I have more joy, more peace and more self-control.  Those are part of the Fruit of the Spirit, which Satan cannot counterfeit.  Therefore, they are more important to me.

In some ways, it is better that this information comes to you nearly 3½ years later.  Now I can report to you on how things have gone in my life, not on what I hoped they will be.  And while I had no idea that this would have ever happened, transgender has become much more visible in society within the past year.

Being part of and serving in the Salvation Army has been a wonderful experience for me.  The Lord has honored me by allowing me to become a part of two of the largest worldwide Christian missionary outreach organizations.  I am too old to go through the process of becoming an Army officer, but as an adherent member I go out on community outreach up to three times per year, I help with counting the kettle offerings at Christmas and I maintain a list of Rockland churches for the Spring Valley Corps.  It was one of the duties I had in my other Christian ministry and it was easy for me to step up and take on that role when I heard that there was a need.  For about 15-20 weeks a year, I participate in the Women’s Bible Study at the Corps.  Most of the participants have graduated from the Officers Training College and really know the Word!  I have learned a lot, and I am blessed that my contributions to the discussions are highly esteemed.

Now when I transitioned, as a person under authority, I willingly resigned from the other Christian ministry.  I was making a public declaration that I did not qualify because one of the qualifications of membership is to be male.  It would have been hypocritical for me to try to claim the right to remain a member, and despicable if I had followed the advice of a few who wanted me to fight for the right to remain a member.  (I dismissed such talk immediately.)

Even here, the Lord has blessed me.  One of my remaining friends in the ministry told me that an affiliate program started in 2014.  There were no qualifications to join.  I became a prayer partner and I donate $10 per month. Because of my regular donation, I received a book on witnessing and occasionally receive some free pocket testaments.  And I can also buy more testaments if I run out of the free ones.  I recommend it to anyone who would like to increase their witnessing for Christ.

Best of all, I witness and give out many more copies of God’s word one on one now than I ever did as a member previously.  No longer carrying around secret shame, I am not encumbered in connecting to others.  Slowly the Lord is bringing along my witnessing skills.  I praise the Lord for His mercy and grace to me.

I have more to share with you in part two.  But it is customary for me to close my blog posts with scripture.  Because today is Good Friday and also because I am no longer despising myself in shame, this is the verse that comes to mind:

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. – Hebrews 12:2

God bless,

Lois

My pre-transition times in “women’s only” spaces

Tags

acceptance, answered prayer, basketball, Christ, Christian circles, Christian identity, Christian only spaces, Christian women's conference, church, college course auditing, coming out, conference speaker, conservative evangelical Christian, Cornell, epiphany, Esther Hughes, featured speaker, Feminist Gender & Sexuality, Girlfriends, grace, gym class, healing, inclusion, Ithaca, Jennifer Pritzker, John 9, legalism, Love, male mask, Mary Beth Norton, Nicole Johnson, Pharisee, rejection, Relationships, Salvation Army, Transgender, Transgender Studies Program, Transition, University of Victoria (Canada), unwelcome, welcome, Women in Sports, Women only space, Women's Study Programs

Jennifer Pritzker’s recent donation of $2 million to fund the chair of a new Transgender Studies Department at the University of Victoria in British Columbia reminded me of the first time I was in what was assumed to be a woman’s only space.  Later, a second time came to mind.  Both were before I transitioned to a female identity and presentation.  Both were positive experiences.

I cannot say how representative the Cornell Women’s Studies program was or is of such programs in colleges and universities of the United States and Canada.  It is the only one I have any familiarity with, and admittedly for a very small slice of its history.  What I know about it beyond my one experience is second-hand.  I know the program was renamed Feminist, Gender & Sexuality Studies (FGSS) in 2002.  I know that the program started in 1969 and was still struggling for academic credibility during the 1971-2 academic year.  I know that a new assistant professor that year, Mary Beth Norton, was part of a group of female faculty members meeting regularly to boost that credibility (unbeknownst to me when I took one of her courses in the history department the following year: I earned a B).  I know that the program’s struggle for credibility continued throughout the 1970’s.

http://www.news.cornell.edu/stories/2009/11/cornell-looks-back-40-years-womens-studies

McGraw Tower, Cornell University on East Hill above downtown Ithaca (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

None of this was known to me as I approached my final semester on campus in January 1974.  I don’t even remember how I found out about the course.  Regrettably, it doesn’t show up on my official transcript because I audited it.  But a couple of days after I registered for my classes that semester, I walked into a classroom to take a course called Women in Sports.

(Auditing was a foolish move on my part.  No doubt I would have passed the course.  But because I miscalculated my credit hours, some of which didn’t transfer from the College of Engineering to the College of Arts and Sciences within Cornell when I switched majors after sophomore year, I was two credits short in June 1974.  I ended up having to take a U.S. History course at the local community college, far below Cornell’s standards but probably accepted by Cornell as a fellow member of the NY State University system, to graduate.)

My hair was long and had natural reddish highlights (since lost to age) to enhance my light brown wavy locks.  People, including barbers and hair stylists, used to tell me that my hair was wasted on a boy.  Combined with my slight stature and the fact that many of the female students at that time eschewed feminine fashions (especially in the cold of the Ithaca winter), I might have initially been taken for another burgeoning feminist student.  But there was one giveaway: my mustache, my prominent badge of internal conflict and hiding.

So there I sat, having arrived early, waiting for class to begin.  There were only about half a dozen other students in the class, all listed as female in the Cornell registrar’s office.  Some were talking with each other.  Occasionally a furtive glance would be sent my way.

Then the professor came in.  Since I was auditing the class, I didn’t appear on the class roster that she had.  So perhaps that was the only reason why she questioned me, wanting to make sure I was in the right classroom.  On the other hand, I have to wonder if she assumed that no men would be caught dead taking such a class.

Having heard her give the name of the course, I assured her that I was in the right classroom and explained that I wanted to audit it.  I settled in for the first class, the usual talk about what the course would be about.

This wasn’t Hollywood.  There was no dramatic moment where the rest of the class went from resenting me to welcoming me.  Acceptance evolved over time as it became clear that I hadn’t attended the class as a joke, a lark or to pick up “chicks”.   I listened.  I contributed to the class discussions without acting superior to the other students (or to the professor, for that matter).

One day, we reported in suitable clothes to Helen Newman Gym, the women’s primary athletic facility on campus at the time.  It was the only sports activity we participated in during the semester.  It was basically a basketball drill of the fundamentals.  I am fairly certain that the professor had been an athlete at one time.  None of the students were, including me.  The easiest sport to demonstrate in a small space is basketball.  It happens to be my worst sport (a grammar school praise for being the only student in gym class who knew the right technique for a layup and an alleged miraculous shot at a pickup game at Cornell notwithstanding – see my blog post of 9/12/14 “My favorite sights”).  At the end of that class, the professor chuckled and announced that we were all terrible.

No, I didn’t eventually become one of the girls.  But I did become part of the class.  At the last class of the semester before the final, the professor thanked me for my participation and reminded me that I didn’t have to take the final.  There was no standing ovation or cheers.  But there were smiles from the other students, a nod or two and a friendly word or two of farewell.

I considered taking the final anyway.  But as usual, I had procrastinated on a couple of final papers and I decided I couldn’t afford to take the time.  I still regret not having taken the final and the course for credit.

At first, I thought that was my only such time as someone presumed male in a women’s only space.  But then a second time came to mind.

It happened a few years before I transitioned.  A very good friend was putting together a Christian woman’s conference, to be held at the local church where we had met about twelve years earlier.  It was another in a series of women’s conferences she had organized over a period of about five years.

As she was planning the conference, she would ask me to help her with technical matters, usually to download videos, music or graphics, or to help with creating the handouts for the attendees: in other words, pretty much anything computer-related.

One day, she surprised and intrigued me with a different kind of request.  She wanted me to be one of the featured speakers at her conference which was aimed specifically and exclusively for women.

And so a few weeks later, I am standing at the pulpit of a church where I had been a member for over six years, delivering a talk to a group of Christian women and some guests of these women who were unsaved.  The male pastor of the church was there, but only to greet the attendees and then run the sound board.  He was primarily the tech person that day.

The topic of my talk was “Our Identity in Christ”.  It was very well received.  An experienced speaker at Christian women’s conferences (Esther Hughes) said I did a good job.

One woman said she loved it but wanted to hear more, commenting that it seemed to end abruptly.  I had an eye on the clock and had run into my allotted time.  Lunch was being readied to be served as an intermission in the program.  I mingled easily with the women at lunch, some of whom I knew from church, many who I did not.  I stayed for the rest of the conference.  I wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but this was the milieu in which I felt more comfortable, where I belonged.

Less than thirty months later, my friend was organizing another Christian women’s conference.  She asked me to help.  I wasn’t doing well that summer.  I was unusually short-tempered with my friend once or twice.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I was subconsciously fighting a losing battle to hold onto my male mask.  But I got the work done for her.

One of my tasks was to download a You Tube video that was recorded at a major Christian women’s conference.  It was a skit by the very talented Nicole Johnson.  It is titled “Girlfriends”, touting how important it is for women to have female friends.  It was my epiphany.  It was God’s answer to desperate prayers to deliver me from a deepening crisis that was beginning to occupy more and more of my time and thoughts.  It was when I finally was willing to admit that this is the relationship that I truly want with women.  It was when I realized that to have this kind of relationship, I had to accept my true gender identity and live it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDhmKwN9DNw

I am also accustomed to being in Christian only spaces: ministry meetings and events.  Until I came out in November 2012, I never thought that there would be a time when I would be unwelcome in any Christian circles.  But now the woman who wanted my talk to be longer called my transition “evil” and “foolish”.  Another woman who had sang my praises and asked for my counsel (even once on something taught to her grandson in college about transgender) immediately dropped me as her tax preparer and began to slander me with hateful gossip and lies.  And a man who had been my closest friend in a worldwide Christian ministry (not Salvation Army) told me that if I contacted him again while identifying as female, he would consider it harassment.

Let the reader be aware that I am unwelcome in Christian circles that are dominated by those with a legalistic Pharisee mindset.  But I am most welcome in a Christian circle, even a conservative evangelical one, where the mindset is on grace and love.

After church today, a woman who travels extensively on behalf of the Salvation Army came up to me.  It was her first opportunity to tell me how much she liked my short bio and testimony that appeared in the New York Times last spring.  I thanked her and then mentioned how much today’s sermon and Scripture reading had touched my heart.  It was the story from John 9 on how Jesus healed a man who had been born blind.  Not only did Jesus have no problem changing the way God had made this man, but when the healed man refused to condemn Jesus for healing him on the Sabbath, the Pharisees threw him out of their midst.

But when Jesus heard that he had been thrown out, He actively sought the man that He had healed.  And he was welcomed into the body of Jesus’ disciples.

There’s no place like home.

Jesus heard that they had cast him out; and when he had found him, he said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God? He answered and said, Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on him? And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast both seen him, and it is he that talketh with thee. And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped him. – John 9:35-38

God bless,

Lois

It’s Great to be Heard

Tags

alabaster box, arrogance, Beelzebub, Caitlyn Jenner, Christ, Cost, Elinor Burkett, faith, false accusations, female, Feminism, gender assigned at birth, gender roles, girlhood, God, grammar school, Jesus, Joy Ladin, Judge, Laverne Cox, Lili Elbe, LinkedIn, loss, Luke 7:37-50, male privilege, Matthew 12:24-27, MTF, New York Times, Orthodox Jewish, pay the price, prostitute, public speaking, salvation, Salvation Army, sinner, stealth mode, stereotyping, TDOR, TED talk, TERF, The Danish Girl, timbrels, Time Magazine, trans feminine, trans man, trans masculine, Trans woman, Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist, Transgender, transgender children, Transition, Vanity Fair, Woman, Yeshiva University

In November 1991, a dear brother in Christ introduced me to the worldwide ministry that I have been associated with for most of my life since then.  Ken is still alive in his late 80’s and to my surprise and delight, remains in my corner to this day.  I visit him and his wife as often as I can and we either go out to eat together or share a meal at their table.  Early on, Ken and Dolores became my spiritual parents, seeing that I was a relatively new believer at the time.

As Ken got older, I became aware of a standard greeting he would have.  Whether it was me or someone else, we would often say hello with a familiar “It’s good to see you, Ken.”  Invariably, his reply would be, “It’s good to be seen.”  With advancing age, you grow in appreciation of each day the Lord has given you.

Having recently watched Joy Ladin’s TED talk based on Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman” speech, and mindful that it was Joy who suggested I start this blog, it brought to mind that when you are part of a marginalized group, it is also good to be heard.  Joy provided a major encouragement to come out of my planned stealth mode after I took the bold step of transitioning to live full-time as a woman in November 2012.  Here was a person whose memoirs had been published, who was giving interviews on NPR and had overcome barriers at an ultra-conservative bastion of gender norms: an Orthodox Jewish institution, Yeshiva University.  And she felt I had ideas and perspectives worthy of sharing with the world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0K2YvvQyEw (Link to Joy Ladin’s TED talk)

Since I started my blog, I have grown in confidence to share my views on LinkedIn, participate in a monthly meeting in my county that introduces and discusses transgender issues with cisgender professionals, speak to classes at two different colleges, and in November 2015 (there’s that month again!) speak at a TDOR observance (and post it on You Tube).  Aware that this has a double meaning for many of us in the transgender community, it is good to be read.  And it is good for my message to be heard.

Now there are many voices in the world, and in this Internet Age of You Tube, LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, a multitude of sites on which to hear them.  Never before has most of the world had such access to those voices.  Let’s face it: many of those voices are not supportive of transgender people.  If that was not the case, Joy could concentrate on doing the things she loves: teaching, writing poetry and spending time with people near and dear to her.  It is the need to speak out against opposition and oppression that motivates Joy and others in the transgender community to divert precious time away from the things we love.

In her TED talk, Joy mentioned a couple of people who have spoken in opposition to her testimony of having a female gender identity.  As much as it saddens me, I have come to expect it from the extreme religious right-wing (even though I have not given up on changing hearts and opinions over time).  But it also hurts when other women (in particular, a portion of the feminist community) do not accept my identity as real and valid.

In part, Joy’s TED talk was in response to Elinor Burkett’s article in the Opinion section of the NY Times Sunday Review, titled “What Makes a Woman?”  Joy mentioned a woman with views representative of what has become known as Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists (TERF).  Those of us who are MTF are told by this group that we have no right to define the meaning of “woman” because we have not endured periods, childbirth, or female socialization, while also having enjoyed male privilege for much of our life.  While being accused by the right-wing religionists of being effeminate sexual deviants, the radical feminists accuse us of male arrogance to think we can define who women are, be better women than “real” women, and invade women only spaces.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/07/opinion/sunday/what-makes-a-woman.html

Joy points out that like most of us who are MTF, we have paid a tremendous price to do what we are accused of by the TERF community.  We have given up any male privilege we might have had (and not all of us had it or wanted it), lost jobs, been rejected by immediate family and our places of worship, risked our health, depleted our savings and more.  And we did these things long before getting members of our community on the cover of Time and Vanity Fair, or receiving top modeling assignments.  We did it at a time of experimental surgeries (e.g. Lili Elbe), complete disassociation with our former life for most of us, mockery, denunciation, and worse.  Even today, we still face a disproportionate amount of murder, violence and harassment.  Quite a price to pay for so-called male arrogance (which, if we are truly female in spirit, we don’t possess in the first place), no?

Those of us who transitioned in adult life have finally gained authenticity, but we lost so much to get there.  Playing an assigned role, we lost our own selves, the life we would have led, and even experiencing periods and childbirth.  Just as the transgender community has a right to be heard, so does the TERF community.  But it grieves me that they don’t understand that MTF’s have lost far more than we may have gained by living a portion of our adult life as male.  For every MTF who has been successful in transition, dozens more are underemployed, bullied into suicide or murdered.  But even with those who have been successful, what price can be put on giving up being oneself for so long?

Here are two personal stories that happened to me recently that show what I lost and can never get back because I was assigned with a male gender at birth.  The first is serendipitous.

My hair stylist retired back in October.  She recommended the husband and wife team that she uses.  Through an amazing sequence of events, I found out that the wife was my classmate for three years in grammar school over 50 years ago.  After being grateful that I was accepted, not kicked out of the salon, I realized how little I knew about her and most of my female classmates at that age.  I remembered the names, but that was just about it, while I remember many details about the boys in my class.  I also remembered the scorn heaped by both boys and girls on the boys who tried to cross the gender line in any way.  To my loss, I learned quickly and stayed on the side assigned to me.

The second story is associated with my church.  During one of the Sundays in Advent, we had a service featuring the precious young children showing various things they had learned that year.  But what really caught my eye were the little girls (about age 6-8) doing timbrels.  They looked like they were having so much fun.  I remarked as such to the woman sitting next to me that day, a good friend who knows about my past.  She replied that it is a lot of fun, sort of like cheerleading with musical instruments.

My mind flashed back to June.  I was watching the graduation ceremony for new Salvation Army officers.  At one point, girls were doing timbrels.  Suddenly, some of the high-ranking women officers got up and started doing timbrels, too.  They all had such joy on their faces.  That day in December, I suddenly realized why.  They were remembering back to their girlhood and all the wonderful experiences they had.  I never can have those experiences.  But some people see people like me as being selfish and arrogant.  They don’t understand that what we have lost in life is irreplaceable: not what I define as female experience but what women and girls choose as female experience.

If trans women are guilty of male arrogance, how do you explain trans men?  Are they arrogant women claiming to be better men than cisgender males?  Are they redefining male identity?  Or are they, like anyone who is truly transgender, simply saying that this is who I am?  And who I am came before surgery, hormones or change in presentation.

As I was writing this, it occurred to me that there is another group that TERF’s cannot explain by their anti-transgender judgments: the young transgender children who have come forward to assert their true gender identity.  How much male privilege has a pre-school child experienced?  How are they demonstrating a motive to redefine female?  Would you go so far as to accuse these precious little ones of invading female only spaces?  And how do you explain the young trans masculine children?

One of the things that comforts me is knowing that Jesus also endured false accusations.  Here is one that is particularly relevant.

But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Beelzebub the prince of the devils. And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand: And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your children cast them out? therefore they shall be your judges. – Matthew 12:24-27

The irony is that part of the feminist movement was a reaction to the stereotyping of women.  TERF’s do not see that they are just as guilty in stereotyping trans women.  Although trans women comprise a tiny percentage of the population, we are remarkably diverse in viewpoints, interests, gender roles and gender expression.  Like any group, we have honorable representatives and dishonorable ones.

Ultimately, I can only speak for myself.  There are only two who truly know my heart: me and God.  No one else knows the shame I once felt.  No one else knows the cost of the oil in my alabaster box.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Ls8ZfeBmHA

And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, And stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet,  would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace. – Luke 7:37-50

God bless,

Lois

Related articles

• Women of Ill Repute

Two-faced

Tags

acceptance, astronomy, Carl Sagan, Chris Bohjalian, Christian martyrs, conformity, consensus, Cornell, discussion, Doctrine, education, erroneous, feminine strength, general public awareness, hatred, knowledge, LGBT, liberal, marginalize, New York Times, observation, Oriental philosophy, out of date, Planet Mercury, reconciliation, religious beliefs, religious debate, Rockland Country Day School, Salvation Army, science, socialist, TDOR, Trans-sister Radio, transgender allies, Transgender Day of Remembrance, Transgender Lives series, transgender rights, Vermont, water, yin-yang

Originally part of the previous post on handedness, I pick up the thread once again with song lyrics from back in the day.  Thank you, Lou Christie!

And I have a confession to make.  No, I’m not living a lie nor do I wear two faces (although until a few years ago, that was true).

My confession has to do with the title for my blog.  It is based on out-of-date science.  It is based on the idea that Mercury was the McDLT of planets: one side faces the sun and is always kept hot; the other side always faces away from the sun and always stays cold.

It is now known that the belief was erroneous.  The errant observation was due to the nature of Earth’s orbit and rotation as it synchronizes with Mercury’s orbit and rotation.  A layman’s explanation is that when Mercury was in its best position to be observed from Earth, the same side was always facing the sun.

I discovered this bit of information when I reconsidered my blog title recently.  At first, I was not upset at the error.  After all, no one corrected me on the inference I had made.  So I assumed that this must be a recent discovery.

Then I dug a little deeper and my heart sank.  This has been known about Mercury for 50 years!  I was in junior high in 1965.  Yes, I did well in math and science and hung out at times with the math/science “geek” crowd.  But my interests extended beyond that one group.  I was a well-rounded student who at one time or another hung out with the athletes (I lettered in four sports at my tiny private high school, Rockland Country Day School), I was one of a group of guys who would play bridge at a drop of a hat, I had one male classmate who got me interested in war gaming for a while (Avalon Hill games, for example) and a female classmate with whom I discussed classical music (she being far more knowledgeable than me).

While astronomy was never my science focus, I was interested in it.  And to top it off, I attended and graduated from Cornell, where I was an engineering student for two years.  By the time I arrived at Cornell in 1970, one of the best known astronomers and popularizers of science, Carl Sagan, was already there as a professor.  Becoming a full professor in 1971, he was already one of the more popular and visible professors on campus.  I even read (and I think I still have) one of his books, The Dragons of Eden.  But somehow, I never received the memo that Mercury was a little more complex than one side always facing the sun and the other always facing away.

But the title of my blog post still fits.  Not only is this still a commonly held view of the planet Mercury, it is a reminder that it can take a while for scientific knowledge to trickle down to the general public.  The average citizen is not going to be aware that the medical community (AMA and American Psychiatric Association) no longer classifies transsexuals as either suffering from mental illness or engaging in a form of homosexuality.  They are not going to be aware of recent studies that show that certain areas of the brains of MTF’s are closer to the normative female brain than male brain.  They are not going to be aware of the recent knowledge that male and female does not always fit into neat little physical boxes (see my links page for various conditions, such as XY people giving birth, Androgen Insensitivity Disorder, other sex chromosome abnormalities and XX people born with MRKH: the lack of or severely underdeveloped vagina, fallopian tubes and uterus).

I happen to meet some of my tax clients at the local public library.  I sometimes browse the used book sale to see if there is something interesting to read while I am waiting for a client.  Now and then, I buy the book I started reading.

Chris Bohjalian. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Usually it will take a while before I find something I like.  But last week, I zoomed in on a book.  It was “Trans-sister Radio” by Chris Bohjalian.  With a title like that, how could I pass it up?  And while Bohjalian is a thoroughly cisgender author with a number of successful novels, I was correct: the book had a thoroughly transgender theme.

Bohjalian researched the topic very well and the writing showed it.  But when I first picked up the book and read the liner notes, I thought he had erred.  A resident of Vermont, he did what good authors often do: he wrote about what he knows best, so he had most of the story take place in a small town in Vermont.  So it surprised me when the blurb on the back of the paperback edition stated that the main characters had to contend with the “outrage” of a “Vermont community”.  I know that Vermont is a very liberal state, having elected a self-described socialist, Bernie Sanders, to the US Congress ten times (eight times to Vermont’s only House seat and twice to the US Senate).  Vermont was also one of the first two states to approve Medicaid funding for surgery to treat gender identity disorder.

Then I saw that the copyright date was 2000.  Bohjalian had been researching this book at the turn of this century.  Now I knew he had not erred.

What is the point I am making?  Simply that transgender rights has not always been a liberal cause.  It has not always been a cause for the L, G and B members of that coalition.  There are still some radicals who have a problem with transgender rights.  And transgender allies who have worked with all four communities will tell you that even those supportive members of the first three do not understand those of us who are T.

My desire is to educate people and add transgender allies.  I don’t care what other labels they give themselves.  Older allies were new allies at one time.  Therefore at one time, they were not allies.  If they can convert, so can others.

When I came out to people, I lived by two slogans: “If I want to be understood, I need to be understanding;” “if it took me fifty years to figure this out, I can’t expect you to figure it out in fifty minutes.”  So my desire is to help people understand.  That requires a process.  And it requires understanding what part of their belief system prevents them from being an ally already.

In my previous blog post about handedness and reviewing the historic treatment of left-handed people, we saw that there are some cases where society is driven by a need for conformity.  In the related and intertwined topics of sexuality and gender, many people feel the need to see things as male or female with no gray areas.  Initially at least, it isn’t a matter of hatred.  It is a matter of wanting to keep life simple and manageable.  Who do I call “sir” and who do I call “ma’am”?  Which pronouns do I use for a person without having to ask everyone I meet?

At the beginning of this post, I discussed the time lag before which knowledge passes down from the expert level to the general population.  If there are people who are not aware of the nature of transgender as a birth condition instead of being a behavioral choice, is that the fault of the student or the educator?  Therefore, we need to continue to patiently educate.  Some people are resistant to change, some people are skeptical of new ideas and some people are slow learners.  These things take time and effort and persistence.

And then there is religious belief.  As a Christian, I respect those who follow deeply held beliefs consistent with their religion.  I also know that in every religion with which I am familiar, there are doctrines that are debated within the body of followers.  So there is room for discussion on a number of points outside of the principal doctrines.

I have witnessed hatred first-hand from people who have turned away from me or who have attacked others in the transgender community.  It could be because of ignorance, fear of a world that is moving beyond their comprehension (loss of conformity), religious fervor or any combination of them.  But I have had people disagree with me without showing hatred or disrespect.  Some remain in my life as good friends.  Therefore, I will not automatically ascribe to hatred those who hold a different opinion on transgender issues.

I endeavor for open, honest, respectful discussion and to build consensus as a result.  I do not want to be marginalized during that discussion.  And I will not marginalize any other parties of the discussion by name calling or making assumptions about them.  I will listen to the other person’s point of view and respond in a way that befits their beliefs.

Last year at the Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR), we memorialized between 300 and 400 people who we learned were killed because of their transgender identity or their alliance to transgender causes.  Since there are many countries that will not acknowledge the transgender identity of murder victims, it can be reasonably assumed that the number is significantly higher.  For the sake of this post, I will make a guess of 550 victims.

According to reliable statistics, 100,000 Christians are violently killed for their faith every year.  That would be roughly 550 victims every two days.  But it is also true that the Christian population of the world is much larger than the transgender population.  There is not a matter of competition.  I belong to both groups and I grieve those who lose their lives or are otherwise marginalized due to hatred against either group.  And I grieve the existence of any in one of the groups who hates those of the other group, whether or not directed at me.

Last week, my story (400 word limit) was published in the online NY Times editorial series “Transgender Lives: Your Stories” (http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/projects/storywall/transgender-today/stories/lois-simmons). With the encouragement of two non-Christian members of the TG community, I focused on the acceptance I have received in my church from church leaders and others.  With the permission of denomination leadership, I included the fact that my church is part of the Salvation Army.

How did I achieve acceptance at such a church?  I did not compromise any of my beliefs regarding either group.  After meeting with three key people who provided reasons to believe that I would be accepted, I simply let people get to know me.  On a need to know basis, I came out to two people here and another person there. Based on people’s responses when  I came out to them, I have ~90% acceptance, one person who asked for time to process the information (granted!) and one person who appears to be negative.  I would have been thrilled with 50% acceptance!

As I put it to the college class to which I spoke last Wednesday evening, instead of coming in like a hammer, I was water.  It is consistent with the feminine strength of yin-yang (gleaned from my days of studying Oriental philosophy).  With nothing more than a desire to educate and bring the Christian and transgender communities together, I flowed where the terrain would allow me to go.  It has brought me to a larger body of water.  We shall see where it will flow next.

All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. – Ecclesiastes 1:7

God bless,

Lois