Meeting With the Pastor

2020

Meeting With the Pastor

My wife and I went to sit down and talk with the Pastor of the church we had been attending. We asked for the meeting because we had been noticing some odd things that didn't seem to fit with the church's public persona.

As in many churches, this church was always saying they needed people to do things in the church. It was announced every Sunday from the stage and was on slides shown before and after the service as well. One area they needed help in was with what they called guest services, which to them meant hospitality positions; greeters, people who show new people around, etc. My wife and I had volunteered to be greeters several times, and there had been no response at all, despite them being very much in need of guest services people. That seemed odd.

We had been asked a few times in the past to help serve communion, but that suddenly stopped. That seemed odd.

Though seating in the service was relatively limited, when additional people came, and chairs had to be pulled out of classrooms, no one sat in the row we sat in. That seemed odd. They weren't subtle; rather, they were obvious.

We attended a church work day, part of the point of which was to work with other people and get to know others. My wife and me were the only couple not assigned with others. That seemed odd.

The church had a creed they recited each week. The first half went like this:

       "(Name of church) is a safe place, a refuge for those who feel lost or forgotten. Though we're not perfect, our promise is to protect you and provide a place where your name and gifts are known. We will stand beside you, not over you. Together we will..."

This creed led us to hope that what we thought we were seeing in the church, the odd occurrences, was inaccurate. So we decided to ask to meet with the Pastor and talk about it.

So, at the appointed time, we came to his office to talk. We had hopes that the conversation would go well, and to be honest, at first, it did. The pastor asked us to tell him what we had been experiencing over the last few years as a transgender person, and as the wife of a transgender person. He listened, and then it was his turn to respond.

First, he small talked for a few minutes, and asked minor clarification questions. So far, so good. Then, he told us he had little experience with having someone LGBT+ in the church. He said he had no idea how to proceed, including handling questions from other church members.

He disclosed that he had received numerous complaints from church members because of my presence. Among other things, people were offended that I had been asked to serve communion. Additionally, some people thought I shouldn't be allowed to participate in communion at all.

He then said he could honestly understand why people might be uncomfortable sitting near me in church. It was at this point that I realized I could no longer attend there.

The end result of the meeting was that we were not going to be permitted to participate in doing anything within the church. It's okay if we attend, but we won't be permitted to serve communion anymore, or to be greeters, or do other things in the church. Not because of any lack of faith or knowledge or experience, or because of any failure on our part. Just because of who I am.

I'm not going to lie. That made me sad and angry. A safe place? Really? A refuge? Seriously? You will stand beside me? Apparently not. In addition to being sad and angry, I felt rejected. Unwanted. Soiled. Have you ever felt like that? It's a feeling of rock bottom despair.

It was an easy decision. We ended the meeting, walked out, and never went back.

Note: When getting ready to post this, I checked the church website to make sure I got the wording of the creed right. There, I discovered that earlier this year, the church had shut its doors.

Father's Day

2019

Father's Day

Well, it's Father's Day this morning. Honestly, I'm conflicted. You see, we have 2 wonderful (adult) children. They call me "dad", and we celebrate Father's Day. Yet, I'm a woman.

If I know my wife, she will try hard to make sure the day is special for me. She is a sweetie that way. She wants me to know I'm important to her, and to our children.

But, as I said, I'm conflicted. I don't know if being called "dad" is right. I don't honestly think being called "mom" is right. I didn't birth them and I know our kids wouldn't be comfortable with that anyway. I'm honestly not sure I'd be comfortable being called "mom", either. For that matter, to me, Mother's day has always been a day to honor their mom, my wife. She's an awesome mom. She earned it. I'm not trying to replace her in any way, nor even horn in just a bit on her motherhood. I don't want to do that at all. I don't believe that "mom" is the right word for me.

I've always been their dad, and I love them madly. I very much like being their parent, and I like that when they need someone to talk to, they often turn to me. Though I am not the sort of person who does "typical dad things", I have always tried hard to be there for them, and I intend to always be there for them. But at the same time, "dad" and Father's Day don't seem to be quite right either. Father's Day evokes masculine images, and so does the word dad, and I'm not the least bit masculine. I don't dislike the day. But it seems odd,  I guess.

Risk

I am also aware that there is risk inherent in someone like me being called "dad" publicly. That risk is not just mine, but theirs also, because anger transfers very easily, and also because our kids are strong young women who would speak up if someone was acting stupidly. There are a lot of ignorant people out there, who react with anger toward whoever is different from them. This means that calling me "dad" publicly could be dangerous for our children as well.

Maybe there needs to be a day called Goofy Person's Day. There is a Transgender Parent's Day. I'm not sure how our kids would feel about that. They might be more willing to celebrate Goofy Person's Day.

Bottom line? I'm thrilled and honored to be their parent. Though I'm not sure Father's Day is the right day, I don't so much care what they call me. I for sure am blessed to have them in my life!

Happy Goofy Person's Day!

Sara's Hair

 1984

 

Sara was an unusually cute girl. She was a year behind me in school, and she had that refreshing, innocent girl next door quality about her that just plain appealed to people. She was nice, popular, and was in the band, and was a cheerleader as well. Lots of guys were after her for her body, and for her girl-next-door personality.

I was a Junior, and I was interested in her hair. I suppose that’s weird. But her hair was perfect, all the time. She was a natural blonde, and always did a great job taking care of her hair. She was one of those girls that even after hours of time in band uniform at a football game, when the hat came off, her hair still looked great.

Her hair was always clean and shiny, always had good body, always smelled good, was always styled in an appealing manner, and she clearly took good care of it. I was fascinated by her hair, I suppose because it seemed so much the epitome of what a woman’s hair should be like. I remember wondering why more girls didn’t take the same amount of care.

I have always been drawn to great hair on women. I suppose the fact that they took the time to get it right says something about their classiness, to me. 

Peace and Harmony

 2022

A lot has happened over the last several years. So many big changes. So many things learned, and so much understanding and enlightenment gained. It honestly has been a wild ride!

Among these things have been the following ideas:

1. Many churches want to do the right thing, and genuinely want to be welcoming to LGBTQIA+ people. The obstacles include such things as:

    - A genuine lack of understanding how to even begin to change, or even what change is necessary. It sounds easy, but it takes thought, and wisdom, and courage. Change is not easy.

    - A real (and realistic) fear that taking any steps toward welcoming LGBTQIA+ people will result in them losing attendance, and with that, losing finances. Numbers = $$. 

 - A fear that if they were to try, the church leadership would quickly be out of a job. This is not an unfair fear. Rather, it is entirely possible. 

2. When an LGBTQIA+ person finds a church that sees them as a person, rather than a political issue, it is a wondrous experience! I can't begin to explain how it feels, and I've been there myself. 

3. Living authentically matters. When an LGBTQIA+ person is able to be themselves, there is freedom, peace, self-acceptance. There is the ability to really live. 

4. Support systems matter. A corollary to this is that Family isn't who your blood relatives are, but rather those who have your back, in the midst of the fight. 

5. Prayer matters. Prayer works. When you stop praying in fear "Please God, anything but this! Take it away!" and instead ask God to show you who you are (have you ever really thought about that?), the difference in your thought process is quick and breathtaking. Go back and read number 3. Once your mind is open to exploring YOU, gracious, the difference it makes!

6. God really, honestly, genuinely does love us for exactly who we are. He knit us together in the womb, and knew who we were before we were even born. He knew. He knew because He held the knitting needles. He made me as me. He made you as you, too. 

 

A List of All the Reasons Transgender People Shouldn't Have Equal Rights

 A List of All the Reasons Transgender People Shouldn't Have Equal Rights:

Pronoun Changes

2019

I started out life with male pronouns. but one day, my wife and I put 2 and 2 and 3 and 1 and 5 and 4 and 3 together and figured out that I am transgender. That'll wreck your pronouns in a hurry.

I wanted to avoid the whole hog rush into changing genders that so many people experience, and make sure that each step made sense for us. Part of that was trying to figure out what pronouns to use. I wanted to get it right. So, I initially decided to think on it, not make a quick change, and continued using male pronouns.

As it became increasingly clear that I was not a cisgender male, I switched to using they/them/their as my pronouns. This caused some issues for my wife because without intending to, she would switch back and forth from he/him/his to they/them/their in conversations. I felt bad for her because she was trying hard, but errors were so easy to make. 

This continued while I explored whether a more accurate situation for me was non-binary, or female. Honestly, non-binary would likely have been more simple for me, since I had a male body. As time continued, I stayed in that niche for several months but was increasingly thinking I was actually female. One day, in conversation, I mentioned something about being non-binary and my wife laughed and said "Why don't you just admit it?"

"Admit what?" I asked.

"Please," she retorted. "You're more girly girl than I am!"

She was right. I am.

Later that same day, talking with our therapist, I told her that I wasn't non-binary, but actually female. She laughed, and said, "I was wondering when you'd decide that. It's pretty obvious"

We used they/them/their for another few weeks but then began phasing in she/her/hers. This accelerated to the point where we began using it more publicly when we filed for my name change.

Now my wife is comfortable referring to me as she/her, and I have coworkers who have never known me as anything other than she. People still slip sometimes, but that's normal, and they're getting better all the time.

I took my time, figured out what felt right, and then went for it. That was the right approach, for me.

Panic Attacks

1978

When I was a child, I experienced something painful. Literally painful. I was having chest pains, with difficulty breathing. I felt tingling in my fingers, sometimes I would feel sweaty or chilly. It happened at odd times, with no real cause, and I never knew when it was going to happen.

Of course, I told my parents. Honestly, they didn't believe me. Even when it eventually happened in front of them, they thought I was faking. But, it kept happening, and I remember my mom at one point telling me they were going to waste money to take me to the doctor so he could tell me it wasn't happening.

A few weeks later, I was seen by a doctor. He ran a few tests and told my parents that he thought I was just under physical stress, caused by eating too much, and not getting enough sleep. Mind you, I got more sleep than most of my peers, thanks to my extremely early bedtime, and I was skinny and always hungry.

My parents immediately cut my food back even more, and began requiring an earlier bedtime. It didn't help at all.

In the same period that this was happening, I was going through a period of strong dissonance. I was feeling really out of place, and so many things were starting to feel wrong. 

Thankfully, the chest pain and difficulty breathing slowly got farther between episodes. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I am aware that what I was experiencing were the symptoms of panic attacks. they were really scary. 

I still have panic attacks sometimes. Usually centered around something scary to me. For example, during my time in the Army Reserve, I sometimes had panic attacks before drills in which I knew I was going to have to go into locker rooms. 

Panic attacks are scary. If you experience them, I can't begin to encourage you enough to seek aomeone to help.