Blessed be the Lord, my Rock!

AMDG

I, a creature in awe of Christ the King, fearful and loyal and enraptured, to you, my brothers and sisters carrying your crosses beside me in hope of the same glory.

Today I relate two simple stories. Recently I got up the courage to talk to my pastor about having a vocation and being transgender. I had been putting it off for weeks, and finally got up the courage to send a text. (I find that texts are great for committing oneself despite fear.) Finally I stayed after daily mass and we had a brief chat. When I gave him my elevator-length story, he paused a moment before beginning to share his ideas and recommendations for how I might pursue my vocation to brotherhood. A good man! Not that long ago I also shared being transgender with one of my best friends, who I have known only a few years. She already knew I had entered discernment so it was easier to commit myself to an honest explanation of the result, yet I struggled more to find my tongue. Maybe because she is more patient, more feeling. Yet she, too, was unfazed.

It may surprise some people that most of my friends in my current city don’t know I am trans. I only find it natural. I forget I am trans--or at least, I used to. It’s not part of my personality. It’s not relevant to my day to day work, interests, and interactions. I only ever wanted to be a regular guy so I could get on with my life. Given that I pass well, I have seized the opportunity, and it has been good. When I moved to this city, I happened to make most of my friends through my parish. I did not realize until I was embedded in conservative Catholic circles that my friends were mostly anti-trans and even trans- and homophobic. And frankly, that just made me even less likely to share. Selfish but true. My friends are great people, we merely disagree on this one issue. Yet the cost is that I avoid sharing things that a friend would share, like my perspective on certain topics or my struggles after I was booted from vocational discernment. Secrets are an opportunity for the devil; sometimes being “stealth” allows me to be more authentic, and sometimes it is a secret I carry in my pocket.

Since I opened up to my friend, I have already experienced fruit. After we watched episode 2 of season 3 of The Chosen, I was able to share with her why the scene between Little James and Jesus (in which the former asks why he is being sent out to heal when Jesus won’t heal him) cut me to the quick. Between me and my pastor nothing has changed so far, but I am consoled knowing that the one who is my shepherd can lead me better knowing my great desires and impediments.

I have resisted drawing up a list or agenda for telling people that I am transgender. For some reason, the idea repulses me. I think because doing so would make the mere transfer of information the end. My goal, rather, is to do the will of the Holy Spirit. I want my motive not to be my own elevation (by claiming minority status) or catharsis (by a public announcement). Further, I want not to artlessly “rip off the Band-Aid” by sharing my story impersonally with all my friends at once. Besides the fact that this would probably be like cutting off my left hand, I don’t think that it would help much of anyone. People would be left with questions. It would be easy to dismiss my story. And instead of talking to me they would continue talking within their silo, building their own narrative of who I am. The only right way to do this, as far as I can tell, is personal encounter. But there is a right time and place for these conversations, and I am leaning on the Holy Ghost to guide me in that matter. For now, I have three people in mind—a bishop, another pastor, and a friend—who I have been thinking of sharing with.

I am not afraid. When it comes down to it, I will be nervous, yes. My heart may beat in my throat, my legs may tremble, etcetera. But first of all, the Lord is my rock. Second of all, I have too many friends within and without the church to reasonably worry about any social poverty. Third, it is important to remember what I am working for. By my witness, I know that I can be a support for others. I make myself available to those who I do not know are gay, trans, queer, or allies themselves. I make myself available to those who have LGBTQ family, or friends, or have questions for whatever reason. And I also know that I chip away at stereotypes of transgender people being weird, or ultra-left, or predatory, or prostitutes, or foolish, or weak-willed, or poorly formed in the faith (etcetera, etcetera, etcetera). And these ends are worth working for. I know that right now I am picking all the low-hanging fruit; these early conversations with the friends and pastors whom I know to be open-hearted and gentle are like indoor practice runs. More contentious and brutal encounters lie somewhere in the future. But truly, I am not afraid. Christ is my King. The shadow of his cross is my shelter, his rod and his staff my comfort, his body and blood my strength, his Spirit and truth my joy!

Blessings to all of you! Pray for me and let me know how I can pray for you.

Peace,

Your Other Brother

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