Letter to my previous church – Part 1

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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

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

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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

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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

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Two-faced

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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