Celebrating Transgender Day of Visibility

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

No matter how you feel about the Trans community, I hope you will pause for a moment to open your mind and read this moodling. 

As the mom of wonderful queer kids of whom I am very proud, one of whom is trans, I invite you to try to understand something that perhaps you've never encountered, or that you've already judged in your mind one way or the other. After all, we only learn through openness to one another. 

I don't often write about my kids because I want to protect them and myself from people who can't see that human beings are not static creatures. Why can't we evolve beyond the two check-boxes of male and female found in the book of Genesis? 

As a Catholic woman, I've had a long hard struggle to reconcile my faith with my kids' lived experience. But slowly, over the past ten years, I've come to understand that God thinks and moves and creates and loves outside the boxes that human beings have assigned to God's creativity through centuries of mistaken theological wrangling. 

I've realized that, basically, God doesn't judge us the way we (or our churches) judge each other! God creates and loves every last one of us, whether we fit into human-designed check-boxes or not.

The problem with boxes is that they have walls, and they are often given labels that, too often, divide us from each other. They allow us to pretend that people who are different from us are WRONG. And what has that given us over the millennia? If you really want to know, look up Persecution on Wikipedia and read the sidebar under Discrimination. The long list is enough to turn the stomach.

But the antidote to discrimination and persecution is education. My children have certainly educated me. My youngest child is my greatest teacher. As I watched them struggle with fitting into a gender that didn't feel right to them, my heart hurt. Many times I wished they could be so-called "ordinary" gender-wise, because being non-binary is not something most human cultures understand. (Some do.)

I'll admit that there are a lot of things I wish I had said and done differently when I learned that my child needed to take a different direction than my status quo expectations. It's taken a few years to forgive myself for my past inability to understand. I questioned my kid's sense of self, cast doubt on their decisions, and grieved the loss of the future I had envisioned for them in ways that weren't helpful. Definitely not my proudest moments -- it was more about me than about them. Damned ego.

But when I was able to talk to them, to really understand how they were feeling about themself, I came to see that they were doing what was necessary for them to thrive in this world, even if it meant leaving me behind for a time. It was a challenging road, but they have moved on to become who God made them to be. Which, of course, is as it should be. As I said earlier, I am proud of them.

Clearly, our world falls short when it comes to understanding and accepting those who are different. It expects everyone to live into the same so-called "norms" -- even if those norms aren't really "normal" and often arise out of the fear of difference that creates xenophobia, racism, sexism, misogyny, homo- and transphobia, and any other ism or -phobia that divides us. Fear (of those fears, mostly) sometimes keeps me up at night, when I worry about the safety of my kids at the hands of fearful people.

It all boils down to the fact that too many people forget how Jesus spent his time with the very people his community pushed to the margins. And too many people choose to ignore how a spiritual leader named Paul once laid it out for us: "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female; for all of you are one in Christ." (Galatians 3:28) For those who aren't Christian, there's an anti-discrimination rule that applies to pretty well every world faith, too: treat others as you want to be treated. 

It's all just basic respect.

We don't hear a lot about the International Transgender Day of Visibility here in Canada -- yet. In fact, I didn't even know the day existed until this morning. I do know about the Trans Day of Remembrance that falls on November 20th each year, a day generally spent naming trans people who have been murdered for refusing to identify themselves according to the sex they were assigned at birth. A very sad day.

But a Transgender Day of Visibility is an opportunity to celebrate! It's time to celebrate their ability to be visible in a world that denied or denigrated their existence for too long. We need to acknowledge that there are those among us who live their experience of gender differently than many of us do, who are less hung up on those M or F check-boxes, and who, because of that freedom, bridge the human-made boundaries between male and female in beautiful, gracious, and sometimes unusual ways. I know trans folks who are incredibly gifted and loving, and who deserve to be seen and celebrated in their own right on this day. They are some of my favourite people. Three cheers for them!

I've collected a couple of links to articles written by trans people speaking from their own experience. They deserve to be heard. The first is a parent who writes about their trans child way better than I do, the second is a two-spirit Metis elder who has come a long way to a self-acceptance that allows them to mentor others. And if you want to look further, here is a link to a Trans Day of Visibility and Trans History in Canada webpage. 

There are many other ways to learn about trans folk and the visibility that's been too long in coming. I offer these links today in the hope that they will help us all to realize that trans people deserve love, respect, acceptance, and friendship every bit as much as we do. 

After all, friendship, acceptance, respect and love are the beautiful gifts God gives to us so that we can give them to each other. Let's celebrate by doing just that!

(Thanks for reading. And if you want to engage in one-on-one dialogue on this topic, you can always email me through the link in my profile to the right.)

Pronouns matter

To say that our family has struggled with pronouns in the last two years is a bit of an understatement.

If you've been following these moodlings for any length of time, you'll know that our youngest child (a young adult as of last week) came out as a non-binary person almost two years ago. I haven't moodled much about this transition because I've been too busy trying to get my head around what it all means for our family, and there are still many things to sort out. But thanks to some good people and a few helpful resources, I'm starting to be able to articulate my experience as the parent of a transgender child.

The first thing I'll admit to is that I haven't been very good at this whole transition. From the outset, I was able to say, "I don't really care what gender you are -- I'm your mom, and I love you and support you no matter what." Thank goodness for that much.

But there are lots of things I have struggled with. Realizing that my child -- with whom I had lived and whom I loved (by another name and gender) for their first 16 years -- was not who I understood them to be, was difficult, to put it mildly. To be honest, I am still going through a grieving process.

Understanding and believing that God could create people outside of the two tick-boxes of male and female has been a bit easier for me thanks to my friends in the LGBTQ community, some of whom are very faith-filled people. Unfortunately, my Church is way behind on gender issues (but lucky for me, I've had a fair number of prior disagreements with it to prepare me for this one, and my spiritual director has helped me to gain some peace by emphasizing the importance of my relationship with God above Church).

But one of my main struggles -- and one that everyone I share my story with seems to complain about -- is pronouns. In my frustration back at the beginning of the journey, I once said to Jay, "I'm being held hostage by f***ing pronouns!" But that was just plain wrong. It's Jay who is most negatively affected by the wrong gender-related words being applied, and adapting my pronoun usage is really a minor thing when it makes a difference for Jay's mental health. As I found out in my reading of a helpful resource book by Stephanie Brill and Lisa Kenney, two experts on gender diversity,

If someone with a non-binary identity asks you to use a gender-neutral pronoun (e.g., they) and you continue to use pronouns associated with their assumed gender, then that is non-affirming... Non-affirmation is associated with mental distress, as well as perceived general life stress, depression and social anxiety.

-The Transgender Teen: 

A Handbook for Parents and Professionals 

Supporting Transgender and Non-Binary Teens 

(2016 Cleis Press, ISBN978-1-62778-174-9) 

For Jay and many others like them, to be called he or she feels wrong. Just wrong. I know that this isn't the greatest comparison, but it's the closest example I can come up with of what it must be like to be mis-gendered. Once I went shopping in the lingerie department of a local department store after a fresh haircut, and the cashier there called me sir. It rankled, and made me question myself and my self-image, at least until the sales clerk became quite embarrassed when they realized their mistake. (See what I did there with those gender-neutral pronouns?)

Being called sir was a very minor incident for me, but the fact that I still remember it says something important. Having that same thing happen over and over again every day, week in and week out would be completely demoralizing. I can't imagine having to constantly correct people who assign me another gender's pronouns. It would be exhausting and humiliating. I'd feel less than myself, I'd get tired of trying, and I'd start to believe that people just can't accept me as I am. Can you imagine?

Jay tells me that being called he or she by people who don't take the time to care what pronouns work for Jay wears them down. If people make an honest mistake, that's one thing, but if they continue call my child a she or a he without even trying to adjust their pronoun use, that's not affirming of who Jay feels they are.

Heaven knows I've made a million mistakes pronoun-wise in the past two years, and Jay forgives me and other family members because they know we are trying even though our brains don't always choose those pronouns properly. I have yet to make it through a week with all the correct pronouns, but I apologize and keep going!

I know it feels strange to use they, them and their, but I also know that railing against they, them and their being used as singular pronouns doesn't help anything. It's interesting to note that the Merriam-Webster Dictionary is moving with the times, and has adapted to a new use of what those of us over 30 would prefer to think of as plural pronouns:

They is taking on a new use, however: as a pronoun of choice for someone who doesn’t identify as either male or female. This is a different use than the traditional singular they, which is used to refer to a person whose gender isn’t known or isn’t important in the context [Maria's note: like my story about the store clerk above]... The new use of they is direct, and it is for a person whose gender is known, but who does not identify as male or female. If I were introducing a friend who preferred to use the pronoun they, I would say, “This is my friend, Jay. I met them at work.”

Read more at https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/singular-nonbinary-they

If Merriam-Webster recognizes the importance of the singular non-binary they, it's time for the rest of us to get with the program. We need to accept that everything changes, and language evolves with time just as human beings do.

When I was Jay's age, transgender people were pretty much unheard of, and the LGBTQ community was pretty much living in hiding. It's only recently that they are starting to feel safe enough to be themselves, and I want to cry when I think how many people from past generations were lost to addiction, mental health issues, or suicide because they felt they couldn't be themselves.

I now have four people in my life who ask that I use they, them and their as their pronouns, and I'll admit that it can be a bit confusing at times. When I talk about Jay as they, people who don't know about Jay's transition to non-binary wonder, "They? Jay and who else?" It also can be challenging to explain the use of the singular they to someone who has yet to meet and greet a non-binary person. I'm never sure how people will respond. But as our society moves to be more gender-inclusive, we need to remember that for some among us, pronouns matter a lot, and that we ought to do our best to use them well.

So, when we meet someone who has different pronouns than we'd expect, the best thing is to roll with what works for that person to the best of our ability. We can't just ignore pronouns -- we need to pay attention to gender words and use them appropriately. It's simple respect. Of course, we binary-brained cis-gender people can expect to make mistakes, and expect to apologize frequently. But we also need to be gentle with ourselves. It takes a while for our brain synapses to adjust to change, but change is inevitable. Especially if we work at it.

I'm living proof (99 times out of 100)!

Talking Circles to heal a nation

On a snowy day last week, my daughter and I participated in a women's Talking Circle at one of our city libraries. Christina called and invited me at the last minute, and suspecting that a Talking Circle might have something to do with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's Calls to Action, I agreed to attend with her.

(In case you missed my earlier Moodlings about the TRC, Canada has a long history of mistreatment of Aboriginal peoples, most especially through the Residential School System, which saw Aboriginal children taken from their families and put into schools far from their homes run by government and churches. The idea was to destroy the Aboriginal culture and replace it with a version of state-sanctioned Christianity -- your basic cultural genocide of the First Peoples in a country being settled by Europeans. The damage done by the Residential Schools is multi-generational, and many of the problems faced by Indigenous people continue. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission's efforts to address these injustices led to 94 Calls to Action, many of which are still only on paper.)

Our Talking Circle was facilitated by Sharon, one of Christina's university professors, and it began with a feast of bannock (!) and delicious beef stew. Chairs were arranged in a circle, and about a dozen of us sat together, discussing the snowy day for starters.

Soon Sharon gave us a page explaining talking circles. I was struck by this quote:

"The Circle has healing power. In the Circle, we are all equal. When in the Circle, no one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you. No one is below you. The Sacred Circle is designed to create unity..." 

-Dave Chief, Oglala Lakota, Grandson of Red Dog/Crazy Horse's Band.

Sharon, who has a Métis background, began our gathering by acknowledging that we were gathered on Treaty Six Territory, and offered a brief prayer and welcome song with her drum. Then she invited us to smudge, though the library didn't allow the burning of sage or sweet grass. We passed around the sacred medicines -- sage, sweetgrass and diamond willow fungus -- enjoying their fragrances. Then we stood in our circle as each woman smudged imaginary smoke from the medicines in an abalone shell over our five senses and our bodies as we prayed for healing. Sharon shared with us a link to a scientific study that showed that the use of medicinal smoke reduces environmental toxins in a room, and I'm sure Aboriginal people have many other wholistic practices that come from ancient earth wisdom. It was a calming, meditative start to our afternoon.

Then Sharon invited us to share our names and our genetic backgrounds, as each speaker held her turtle rattle. A talking circle is just that -- a place where a person who holds a special object has the opportunity to talk, and the rest of the people in the circle listen with respect and without judging, until it is passed to the next person. It turned out that a third of our group had some indigenous heritage, and the rest of us were children of "settlers" in Canada. So much history, so many things to be healed.

The second time around the circle, Sharon invited us to share about something on our heart. And in the sharing, we realized how we were different, and also how we shared many similarities. Struggles, sorrows, illness, joy -- we had all experienced them. I was also quite touched by the elderly Indigenous woman beside me, who passed on her speaking times, content just to listen, though I'm sure she had many stories she could have shared.

And the third time around the circle, Sharon shared a story about a crow who wanted to be an eagle, from aboriginal author Richard Wagamese's book, One Story, One Song (2011, Douglas & MacIntyre, ISBN 1553665060). It spoke to all of us in different ways, and we expressed how the story fit with our lives. Then Sharon closed the circle with one more prayer, and we said our farewells and headed home through the snowy afternoon.

To experience a sharing circle with complete strangers made me see how Dave Chief's words about it having healing power and creating unity is absolutely true. Each person listened respectfully to everyone else, and though we came from diverse backgrounds as people of Aboriginal and settler heritage, the stories told and the tears that flowed bound us together in friendship in two short hours.

I am someone who is quite aware of the privilege I've grown up with, so I was a little apprehensive about how a circle would actually work. But it did work because no one blamed or judged anyone else, everyone was respected, and deep truths were spoken. We were all invited to share, we all listened, and we all came away with a deeper appreciation for each other's lived experience.

I'm not sure if Talking Circles are part of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's 94 Calls to Action, but I really hope so. I'll have to read them to find out. Regardless, reconciliation requires sharing of life, deep listening to the struggles, hurts and joys of others, and a respect that leads to friendship. At our women's talking circle, we got a preview of what healing our nation, learning from Aboriginal people, and healing settler biases and prejudices could look like.

Hope for healing Canada comes through forgiveness, friendship, and community. If you ever have the opportunity to attend a talking circle, I'd highly recommend it.

And I think Richard Wagamese's book will be worth a read, too -- I'm going to borrow Christina's copy!

Forget POTUS. Remember Musa?

It's interesting to see and hear peoples' reactions to the latest outrage caused by the US President. Here's my reaction. Instead of going on about POTUS, I want to remind you about Musa.

Remember Musa? He's a beautiful man who happens to have cerebral palsy and who went from his BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY of Kenya to France some time ago, where a lovely #AsIAm video was made about his experience.

https://youtu.be/4ST39z3tCvM

Musa's reactions to our world are dead on. He knows what's really important and what's fluff.

And now there's another lovely video about Musa, who brings people together, and helps them to see beauty and goodness. 

https://youtu.be/kL75g7fAJ80

Forget about that other guy. The pundits are saying enough. 

Instead, spread Musa's message of positivity around!