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My Heart is Heavy with Grief and Anger

Posted by Aibird on June 13, 2016
Posted in: Author. Tagged: , , , , , . Leave a comment

In Orlando, Florida, a gunman, after seeing two men kissing two days prior, decided to target a gay bar during Latino night with a trans headliner. There were a lot of cisgender LGB folks as well as trans LGB folks in the bar that night. He killed 50 of them and injured 53 others. This is the largest mass shootings in America, the largest death toll in a single few hours since 9/11, and it was targeting LGBTQIA people. This happened in the early morning hours of June 12th, 2016.  You can read the play by play of what happened in this link from Slate.

I don’t know how to feel right now. A friend of mine lost a friend that night, and all I can do is say, “If you need me or anything at all, let me know.”  What more can be said? I want to cry, rage, and hide all at the same time.

I attended a vigil Sunday evening at my capitol building. A good hundred or so people showed up, and we wept together. Talked about how the gun violence has got to stop. Talked about how we need to support one another, to stand firm on the side of love, to not let hatred win. Because what happened early Sunday morning on June 12th, 2016 was a hate crime. A hate crime against LGBTQIA people (specifically people of color as most were Latinos).

The current rise of anti-LGBTQIA rhetoric and legislation in this country most definitely played a role.  This wasn’t the only attack this weekend. This weekend was Pride weekend, where Pride festivals across America happens in various cities. Pride exists to honor the memory of Stonewall, where LGBTQIA people, specifically trans folks of color, first fought back and demanded equal rights. The festivals exist to affirm our existence, to affirm that we do matter and that we can eventually overcome the hatred spewed against us. We will continue the fight for equal rights —  the rights straight, cisgender people already have. We will continue to proudly proclaim that love will win out. That’s what Pride is all about, but this weekend hatred was spewed forth upon our communities.

In Los Angeles, there was a confirmed  report of a gunman who planned to attack the Pride event that day — he had a car full of weapons and explosives, and if he had not stopped to wait for a friend, there might have been a second mass shooting Sunday. That horror was just barely prevented. There has been other attacks on people at Pride events in other cities, some anecdotal and some reported to police. I can’t say this enough: the anti-trans and anti-LGBTQIA rhetoric and legislation in the majority of states most definitely has an effect and it’s a damaging one; these attacks stem from that rise.

I write this in tears because I fear for my life and the life of my loved ones and friends. What happened in Orlando? It could have happened anywhere in the US, and with the rise of hatred toward folks like me, is there anywhere that is safe?

I don’t have the energy or patience to deal with folks who don’t like the existence of LGBTQIA people or view our lives as morally wrong. I’ve seen enough people celebrating the deaths of people like me, enough people quoting Bible verses as they tell me that folks like me deserve to die, that we are sinful abominations. I’m tired of it, and yet I can’t escape it because it saturates America’s discourse, where even the act of me taking a piss in a bathroom causes the hateful folks to rise up in condemnation of my existence.

I post this in hopes of solidarity and to remind everyone that we, LGBTQIA folks of all races and professions — we do exist, and we matter just as much as cisgender straight people. We don’t deserve deaths like this.

And so, we must remember those who have died. We must not let their deaths be used to fuel more hatred: http://fusion.net/st…pulse-massacre/

Anderson Cooper reads their names and their stories. (A heart-wrenching video).

Remember them. Don’t let the politicians or the murderer’s 911 call shape the discourse. This has nothing to do with radical Islam. The murderer wasn’t even a practicing Muslim. He was born in America, raised in our American culture, and came to hate folks like me. There are more people out there like him who try hard to cause harm through legislation, through conversion therapies, through denial of basic services, through denying us jobs and/or housing, through firing us for coming out. The hatred of LGBTQIA people is prevalent in America, and don’t let the politicians with their hateful rhetoric demonize innocent Muslim folks and refugees. Don’t let this act of hatred be used to fuel more hatred.

Love has to win out. It’s got to. Because right now, when I think about all we’ve lost in my community — the folks in Orlando, the dozens of trans folks murdered this year, people we lost to suicide because they felt life was too dangerous and painful to live, the folks who have been hurt, assaulted, beaten, harassed, discriminated against — all of us, I start to lose hope. I start to wonder if there is any good in this world. I start to wonder if maybe life is too dangerous, that maybe it would be better if I left this world. Then I think of some of my favorite movies: The Lord of the Rings, and I think of what Sam said to Frodo when Frodo lost all hope:

FRODO: I can’t do this, Sam.

SAM: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened.  But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.

FRODO: What are we holding on to, Sam?

SAM: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for. Love will win out, but we got to work together. Support one another. Listen to one another, and stand up for one another. Fight this fight together.

Remember to take care of yourself in this time of grief. Hug your loved ones. Tell your friends, especially your LGBTQIA friends and family, that you love them and support them. Stand firm on the side of love and stand up against the hateful rhetoric and legislation that is harming LGBTQIA folks like me. Remember that you are loved. That you do matter. Love must win out.

A Primer on Writing Trans Characters

Posted by Aibird on June 13, 2016
Posted in: Books, Characters, World Building, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

Introduction

A question I’m commonly asked is: how does one write a trans character? I also get asked this question in regards to writing gay, lesbian, or bisexual characters, and/or how to write a person of color. There is a lot of overlap in these questions since a person can have a variety of skin colors, and that same person can also be trans or cisgender as well as gay, lesbian, bi, asexual, or straight; therefore, some of the articles I will link offer excellent advice on writing people of different skin tones and ethnicity as well as different genders and sexualities.

In this primer, I will focus primarily on gender identity. I will provide some common definitions, how to worldbuild with trans characters in mind, things to keep in mind when designing a trans character, and steps you can follow when writing trans characters’ stories. I will also have a list of resources at the end of this article for further reading.

How to use the guide

Think about the setting of your story and the characters you wish to create. For writers whose settings are real locations in current or historical time periods of Earth, you may not need to go through the worldbuild section. Instead, you can research how gender is perceived and how people are treated within your chosen location and time period, then go straight to the Designing Your Character section. For example, if your setting is 1800s Ireland, then do some research to see what it was like for men and women in that time period, then go straight to the Designing Your Character section of this primer. If you are writing an alternate Earth history, then you may find the content of the worldbuild section helpful. If you are creating your own science fiction or fantasy universe, I highly recommend going through the entire primer and not skipping any section in order to assist you in deepening your understanding of your world and characters.

Important Things to Keep in Mind

Trans people are a diverse group, so I will cover a few of the most common gender identities. Trans women were assigned male at birth but are women. Trans men were assigned female at birth but are men. There are also non-binary people, who could be assigned either male or female at birth and may use various identifiers such as genderqueer, neutrois, agender, and others. Although some intersex people are trans, not all trans people are intersex. You can view the transgender language primer link I provided in the definitions section to read more about the various terms and identities.

The gender identity of a trans person is real, and it is important to respect their pronouns, to use their chosen name, and to not out them without their permission. When talking about transgender people before they transition, it is important to  use their current pronouns unless specified otherwise by that individual; do not use the sex assigned at birth pronouns.  Also, avoid the use of their “deadname,” which is the name they were given at birth but is not their chosen name. Even if discussing their life before transition, it is still better to not use their deadname unless they give permission. When writing the character’s story, seriously consider whether it is even necessary to provide the dead name ever. In most cases, it will not be relevant to the plot.

Why is this important? Because trans people exist, and representation really does matter. In this essay by a transgender woman, she discusses the power of representation and the tragic tropes people often use when writing transgender characters. Negative portrayals that show us as comedic relief or as a villain only serve to perpetuate the stereotype that we are not serious (or real) or that we are dangerous, which can also cause tremendous harm — trans people, due to discrimination and rejection of who they are by today’s society and sometimes their family and friends, already have high suicide rates and rates of being murdered for who they are. Negative portrayals can aggravate those rates by perpetuating harmful myths, which can lead to increased harassment, lack of acceptance, and other harmful behaviors perpetuated against trans people.

Tragic portrayals done respectfully can be important in showing how society treats trans people today and gather sympathy for trans people. However, in our current culture (in America where I live), most of the stories I see of trans folks are tragic portrayals. Having an overabundance of tragic portrayals is exhausting to a trans person, who already faces discrimination and injustice and makes it hard to hold out hope for positive change in society’s treatment of us. At this point, I am desperate to read anything but a tragic and/or negative portrayal, so that I can enjoy seeing a trans person flourish and thrive rather than wither and die.

Positive portrayals provide hope for the future and shows people that trans people can do awesome things too, where trans people are shown as human beings just like everyone else and that we are just as worthy of rights and respect as a cisgender person. It’s important to think about how we portray characters, especially if you wish to write a trans character respectfully. We often underestimate the influence literature, video games, movies, TV shows, and other media can have on our perceptions of others and ourselves.

This isn’t to say you can’t have trans people as villains, comedic relief, or have them experience great tragedy and/or death. But if that is the only portrayal of trans people you have in your stories, then there is a problem. Trans people can be heroes as well — diversity in representation such as providing balanced portrayals is also important. Let trans people be heroes, and let them experience interesting story lines that aren’t only about their gender identity. Think about all the diverse portrayals of straight, cisgender people, then consider how, with some alterations here and there, you could give a trans person similar diverse roles in stories.

Diversity can help to deepen your worlds and stories. Diversity can also provide you with more opportunities for conflict, character growth, and societal change, which can give you even more ideas for future stories. Writing diverse characters and diverse story arcs also challenges us to learn more about people not like us; this can increase our ability to emphasize with others, helps us reconcile diverse worldviews, become more accepting of other people, and pushes us to challenge any biases we have that may be holding us back as writers and as people. Writing diverse characters can be a fun and interesting journey, but it will require you to do some research, but then as writers, we should all be used to research by now!

In order to start our journey, it is important to understand the terms we will be using. I have provided a short list of terms, but I included a resource for a more comprehensive list of terms that you may encounter as you research and explore the transgender community.

Definitions of Terms

Gender identity means a person’s internal sense of what their gender is. Some describe it as their brain’s gender. The person’s gender identity may or may not align with the sex assigned at birth.

Sexual orientation denotes who a person is attracted to. Gender identity and sexual orientation are not the same thing. A trans person can be any sexuality.

Sex assigned at birth means that at birth the doctor looked at the baby’s genitalia and labeled them as either male or female (rarely if ever is any other test used to determine sex). (Note: if the genitalia is ambiguous due to various Intersex conditions, the doctor may do surgery without permission to force the baby into either male or female. This is a common practice in America.)

Cisgender means people whose gender aligns with the sex assigned at birth, i.e., they are not trans.

Transgender means people whose gender does not align with the sex assigned at birth. This is often shortened to simply trans. A transgender person can be a woman, man, neither, or an third gender altogether. Trans people may or may not experience gender dysphoria, and they may or may not decide to physically and socially transition. Again, there is a lot of diversity within the trans community.

Non-binary denotes a person who does not identify within the male/female binary. Non-binary people fall under the transgender umbrella, although not all may identify with the term trans. See the Transgender Language Primer for definitions of various non-binary identities.

Gender Expression denotes the external appearance of one’s gender identity, usually expressed through behavior, clothing, haircut or voice. A person’s gender expression may or may not conform to society’s gender norms.

Transition denotes the process a person may undergo in order to align their body and/or their gender expression with their gender identity. Physical transition may or may not involve hormone therapy, various surgeries, and voice training. Social transition involves changing how a person expresses their gender and may or may not include changing their behavior, clothing, haircut, or voice.

Gender Norms denotes society’s rules, expectations, and roles that define for each gender a set of behaviors, gender expressions, characteristics, and roles. Norms often include how society enforces these roles, expectations, and rules.

Gender Roles denotes society’s expectations for each gender in regards to the familial, workplace, and social positions within society as well as the characteristics and traits society associates with each gender.

Socialization is a sociological term that refers “to the lifelong process of inheriting and disseminating norms, customs, values and ideologies, providing an individual with the skills and habits necessary for participating within their own society.” (Definition from wikipedia).

For a comprehensive list of terms and definitions, please see this lovely list: Transgender Language Primer

Worldbuilding

I have an extensive list of resources and articles I have written regarding worldbuilding. You can view that here.  In this section, I will explore how gender can influence society (such as the culture of your country and/or planet). When you engage in worldbuilding and/or designing your characters, many different influences from society, language, and history can increase the complexity of your character’s journey, of how characters interact with each other, and of your plot lines. I have provided some questions for writers to consider:

  • How many genders does your society and/or country have? Some cultures on Earth have up to five genders. In fact, biology is showing more and more that even humanity is not as simplistic as having just two sexes. Think of gender as your identity that is within your brain. Your sex is related to your biological make-up such as secondary sex characteristics or chromosomes; however, studies show that using sex to determine gender is not always reliable. Also, there is some evidence that one person could technically have cells with very different chromosomes. The point here is to show that even gender can be incredibly diverse.
  • Is gender neutral pronouns common in your society? What types of pronouns does your society’s language have?
    • As a side note: In American society, gender neutral pronouns are rare, but people are slowing changing the language over time by using gender neutral pronouns within written and spoken works/discussion.  There are many languages in the world where there is multiple gender neutral pronouns or the language may not have any gendered pronouns at all. (Finnish is an example of a language that doesn’t have gendered pronouns (or nouns) like what we see in English.) Remember language also affects how people perceive others, and languages are not static. If a language doesn’t have gender neutral pronouns, this can change if enough people use gender-neutral pronouns, which is how languages evolve — folks changing how words are used over time.
  • How does your society treat each gender? Is one considered “better” or “stronger” or “more intelligent” or “more simplistic” than the other? How is gender perceived and experienced within your culture? What are the gender  roles? This leads into my next question about gender norms (rules or expectations enforced by society).
  • Has the treatment of each gender changed over time? Was some genders treated differently in the past? How did that change over time?
  • What rules and/or expectations does your society enforce for various genders? This can manifest in various ways (this list is just to get you started):
    • What types of employment are accessible to what genders?
    • In what ways are people of each gender typically presented in the media/entertainment, educational, and/or political discussions?
    • How do people view the body (as in are there specific body parts that society labels is for one gender only?)
    • How people view sex (as in how is consent taught? Is specific sex acts considered belonging to one gender only? Is one gender presented as more dominant in sex than the other genders?)
    • What clothing is taboo (or allowed) for each gender?
    • What types of physical or psychological characteristics are associated with each gender?
    • How are people of certain genders treated in public?
    • What actions a person of a specific is allowed to do in public and what is considered taboo?
    • Is one gender considered better than another gender and how this power differential is enforced?
    • If people transgress the gender norms, how does society punish them (if society punishes them at all)?
      • (For example, in America, if a man (cisgender or trans) acts too feminine, other guys may beat him up, insult him, abuse him, and/or demote him until he acts the way society states a “man” should act. In some extreme cases, the man could be killed. Or if a woman (cisgender or trans) acts too manly in America, she can be dehumanized, abused, raped, verbally harassed, insulted, and/or demoted until she acts the way society states a “woman” should act. Again, in extreme cases, the woman could be killed. Also, note that this enforcement is even more harsh for trans people in America, especially if they do not “pass” as a cisgender person. Many trans people, especially non-passing and non-binary people, are often seen as “transgressing” the gender norms, and so they experience harassment, abuse, destruction of their property, loss of jobs or denied jobs, loss of or denied housing, loss of rights, unable to access public services, etc. In some cases, they may be driven to suicide or are murdered.)

When you think about gender norms and their enforcement, think about socialization. This can be a complex topic, so reading sociological theory on socialization may be useful. How we are socialized by society today may not be how people in the past were socialized, as socialization of norms is changeable over time. Think of it this way. You know how we are socialized to think pink is feminine and blue is masculine? At the end of the 1800s and early 1900s, blue was actually considered feminine. Things like this can change depending on time period and culture.

For example, in American culture, guys are supposed to be tough and show little emotion, and masculinity is associated with power, sexual prowess, and violence. Femininity in America is often associated with being overly emotional, not smart enough, weak, or bossy. However, in some societies on Earth, the masculine person is expected to show more emotion than the feminine person and their gender roles are polar opposite of how gender roles are perceived in America.  These socialized perceptions and gender norms have an impact on how people are perceived and treated. And all of what I’ve discussed thus far? That’s all learned behaviors and perceptions. I bring this up because I want writers to think outside the box. To avoid having these biases and/or socialized perceptions color your world-building.

The Sociological Images page does a good job of breaking down how a society enforces and perpetuates its norms. Also see their “for instructors page” as it has a lot of good resources for learning more about sociology and societal norms.

Designing Your Characters

Now that you understand the backdrop of your world in regards to gender, think about your character and how they inhabit that space. By understanding the environment, space, history, and personality of your character, you can develop intriguing story lines that move beyond stereotypes. Although there is a time and place for stories about the act of transitioning, there’s also much to be said about giving your trans character different types of story-arcs. You don’t have to make their entire plot line about them being trans or about their transition. Remember, trans people are very diverse, exist in all sorts of professions, and there’s more to them than just their gender identity. Their gender identity is only one facet of who they are. Also, recognize that a trans person can be any sexuality — gender identity and a person’s sexuality are not the same thing, so a trans person can be straight, bisexual, gay, lesbian, asexual, or pansexual.

The following questions can help you better understand your character and the space around them, so when you write, you can include little details that add depth to their story-arcs and their interactions with other characters and societal systems.

  • How does the character navigate their society? (Is there roadblocks that prevent them from accessing certain opportunities or areas of society? Are their laws that prohibit their movement or restrict their rights? Do they have laws that guarantee their rights? Is society accepting of them or not? How do they react to these things? What is their opinion on the state of society?)
  • How does the character get through a day? (As in how to people respond to the character’s existence? Is it positive, negative, and/or neutral? Do they feel safe going about their day?)
  • Does the character encounter discrimination? How do they deal with discrimination? (Is there legal recourse for them? Programs or resources to help them access healthcare, employment, education, basic needs requirements, etc…)
  • What sort of movements exist that challenge the society’s gender norms? Or is your society accepting enough that there is no need for such movements? Is your character connected with such movements and what do they think of them?
  • How does your character experience gender? Do they have dysphoria? Will they transition physically or socially? Or are there roadblocks that prevent their transition? How do they react to society’s view of people like them?
  • What does your character like to do? Hobbies? Work?
  • What is your character’s spirituality or belief system? How does that influence their behaviors and thoughts?
  • What is your character’s worldview — how do they perceive their place in society? What do they feel about some of society’s laws or expectations? What sort of political theory to they adhere to?
  • Where did your character grow up and what was their childhood like? How does events from their childhood influence them today? What lessons did they learn during their childhood in regards to life, society, and their view of  themselves?
  • What is their family like? How many siblings do they have? What are their parents like? Does their family accept their gender identity?
  • What is your character’s sexuality? Have they dated anyone in the past, and if so, why did the relationship end? Are they interested in dating anyone? Are they in a relationship?
  • If in a relationship, did your character marry the person or not? Why? Do they have kids?  What are their kids like? Do they have any pets?
  • Who are your character’s friends? Why did they choose those friends? How did they meet? How deep are the friendships?
  • Is there anyone your character really dislikes? Why do they dislike them?
  • What was their education like? What did they study? Why did they decide to study that particular subject(s)?
  • What type of employment does the character have? Why did they choose to apply for that job? Or were they forced into that job due to societal norms or family pressure?
  • What is a typical day in the life of your character? (Think of a day before the big events of your story changes their life forever.)

For a longer list of character questions, see this thread on Legendfire Writing Forums.

Do not be afraid to use gender-neutral pronouns if there are characters who are of a third or fourth gender (or no gender). You can even meld the gender neutral pronouns into the society of your character’s world by making it a commonplace and/or important to the culture. When integrated into the setting (world) and characters, gender neutral pronouns will seem essential and not jarring to readers. For example, in science fiction, writers will use a variety of techniques to denote people (or aliens) of genders outside of the male/female binary:

  • Writers may use actual gender neutral pronouns such as ve/vir/vis (Alastair Reynolds has a character who uses these pronouns in one of his novels).
  • Or they may use a pronoun native to the language of the character (common with stories that have aliens in it like the Xenogenesis trilogy, where the aliens denote their third gender as just ooloi, or in Julie Czerneda’s works where it is a word native to the alien language).
  • Another approach involves writers using humanity’s tendency to stereotype and denote things by human’s norms. In this case, humans may decide to use only one pronoun for the entire alien species.  (The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin does this, where the human observer denotes all of the people on Winter as “he.” Ann Leckie does this in Ancillary Justice, where humans denote everyone within the alien species as “she.”) As a caveat: this particular approach may be useful for aliens and human stories, but I find this approach to be limiting and somewhat troublesome when used for non-binary characters (human or not).

 

Writing the story

Writing the story can often seem daunting, especially to people who are uncertain if they can portray trans characters well. I’ll tackle the steps to take in a bit, but first let’s discuss ways of writing the story your characters inhabit.

Once you have designed your characters, be willing to place them in diverse roles within your stories. You can make them the hero, the antagonist, an important side character, or peripheral characters that influence the plot in minor ways. It only takes a sentence or two to establish that they are trans. This can be done through a conversation the characters have, how other people interact or react to your character (such as microaggressions), the character’s inner thoughts about society and what they experience, or through well-worded descriptive details. The best way to explore how to do this is by reading books that feature trans people. Or think about how trans people may discuss being trans to other people — sometimes it comes up naturally in conversation. I will include a list of books to try at the end of this primer for you to explore how others have written trans characters.

For an example, I will use myself. A few days ago, some friends were sharing experiences of harassment (namely cat-callers). As a trans person who was assigned female at birth, I have experiences with this from when I was not yet out and was still perceived as a woman by nearly everyone. Since I was with friends, I joined the conversation by saying, “I get that. Before I came out or even considered transition, I experienced that too. I remember this one time…” Another example was when I was with friends on a hot day. I made the comment: “Ugh, I hate that feeling of sweat inside the binder. I’m totally going to take a nice shower when I get home.” My friends then shared their own discomfort with the heat, we laughed about it, and the topic changed to something else. In both these instances, my sharing of my trans part of my identity was brief and not the focus, but in both instances I felt comfortable and safe enough to share my experience.

By reading and listening to trans people’s stories and experiences, you can compile all sorts of ways to slip in details that the character is trans, where it may or may not be crucial to the plot but it is another interesting detail that develops the character further.

Here is a wonderful example of a writer doing a good job in creating a trans character. In Dragon Age Inquistion, there is a character who is trans, and the main indicator is some dialogue where the character mentions that they bind. Here is a blog post of how the writers and developers of Dragon Age Inquistion researched the subject and implemented the character in a respectful way: Building a Character: Cremisius “Krem” Aclassi. This article also shows the steps involved in writing a trans character well:

  1. Research and lots of it. Best way to do this is to listen to the stories of trans people. Read about their lives and read stories by them. Read up on definitions and concepts pertaining to trans people and the issues they face.
  2. Look for roles trans people can have in your stories — try for diverse roles in a variety of professions, and try to avoid making their story-arc just about the fact they are trans. Trans people are just as interesting and complex as cisgender people. Trans people can be any profession, any sexuality, any ethnicity or race, any socioeconomic position. Diversify!
  3. After you write your story, look for beta readers who are trans, and ask for their critiques. Listen to their constructive feedback on how to improve, and don’t feel defeated or sad if their reaction is less than stellar. Learn from your mistakes, fix any errors, and keep doing your best to diversify your characters. The best way to write diverse characters is by trying, learning from the experience, and trying again when you mess up.
  4. Understand that no matter how hard you try, some folks will love what you write and other people may not. As long as you do your best to write trans characters respectfully, that’s what’s important.

Remember, you don’t have to be a trans person in order to include trans characters! Writing trans characters may seem hard at first, but I challenge you to try anyway. Realize that trans people are just like you, and by writing about them, you can not only better understand trans people but also grow as a person and a writer. If you have any questions or want to see certain sections covered in further detail, feel free to drop me a note, and I’ll see what I can do.

Resources:

Legendfire Writing Forum Thread discussing how to write trans characters.

The Gender Book is a good 101 primer about trans people and issues they face. I highly recommend starting here.

Tips on writing trans characters (article published at Strange Horizons).

An article published on SFWA that provides tips on writing characters of different races and/or ethnicities. A lot of the advice is applicable to trans characters as well.

An article published on Walrus called Rise of the Gender Novel. It discusses how trans people are portrayed in literature.

Kat Blaque’s Advice on How to Write Transgender Characters (a YouTube video):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3fbvOX8Zh4 (I highly recommend this resource. Kat Blaque is a trans woman, who does a wonderful job offering tips on writing trans characters well.)

Lists of books with a trans protagonist:

There is an unspoken epidemic

Posted by Aibird on July 26, 2015
Posted in: Author, Feminism, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

There is an unspoken epidemic in our country.

Since January 1, 2015, there has been sixteen trans people, fifteen of them trans women, murdered in the US and one in Canada. Majority were trans women of color. Both race and gender play a factor in the deaths.

The media often presents them as a novelty — using the wrong name and pronouns, describing them in ways that dehumanizes them. The media will often go so far as to paint them as sex workers, despite it being a false claim for most of the cases. Rarely will other publications comment on it.  Often only trans people seem to speak up for them. We cry out in anger and pain at the losses, and yet our cisgender so-called allies are often quiet. Sometimes our cisgender queer allies will demean the dead further by arguing over whether they were even women, and if trans women in general are even allowed to be called women. This is just more violence done to them after their deaths and further violence done to the living. By arguing against our identities, people are engaging in verbal violence that causes direct harm. Couple this with how discriminatory our culture is toward trans people, staying alive becomes incredibly difficult. It’s why the life expectancy of trans women of color is 30 to 35 years old. Those within our country often don’t allow them to exist, and many of us face violence whether it is physical, psychological, or verbal.

To honor our dead, I will repeat their names so they are never forgotten:

Papi Edwards, January 9th, Kentucky
Lamia Beard, January 17th, Virginia
Ty Underwood, January 26, Texas
Yazmin Vash Payne, January 31, California
Taja DeJesus, February 3, California
Penny Proud, February 10, Lousiana
Bri Golec, February 13, Ohio
Kristina Gomez Reinwald, February 15, Florida
Sumaya Ysl, February 22, Canada
Keyshia Blige, March 7, Illinois
Vanessa Santillan, March 28, Florida
Mya Hall, March 30, Maryland.
London Chanel, May 18, Pennsylvania
Mercedes Williamson, June 2, Mississippi
India Clarke, July 21, Florida
K.C. Haggard, July 23, California

They never should have died, and the outrage and grief over their deaths haunt me still. May they rest in peace.

There is an unspoken epidemic in our country. Since December 26, 2014 to today, there has been over a dozen suicides by trans people, possibly more as not all get coverage. These are sometimes younger trans folks and sometimes older. They are all over the country. And their suicide notes, if they have any, are always the same — lamenting the fact that our country is too hostile, the discrimination too great, and the lack of hope of it ever being better the final straw. The media, if it even acknowledges their deaths, often fails to gender them correctly, often using the wrong name and putting their chosen name in quotes. Studies have shown that over 41% of trans people attempted suicide, and that study and similar ones show that it is due to a tremendous amount of discrimination at nearly all levels of our lives. 1 in 2 transgender people have been sexually abused at some point in our lives. These numbers are significantly higher for trans people of color than for white trans people — as the intersection of race and gender identity makes life exceptionally harder.

For many of the trans people who have died, their families may decide to not honor who they were in life and will bury them with the wrong name. Even in death they are misgendered and forgotten, their true selves lost by an uncaring world. Can people not see that misgendering a trans person is in itself a form of violence? It is a denial of a trans person’s identity – of their true self — and to misgender us is to violently deny our existence as well as placing us in danger.

There is an unspoken epidemic in this country. Trans people like me and many of my friends are the victims of a war against us, a war we never started nor wished for. We wish only to live out our lives as ourselves, but society will not have this. We are not allowed in public spaces without others questioning our right to exist. We face the threat of violence from people we know and from strangers. We face people misgendering us, and others treating us like we are monsters to be reviled. Police often will treat transgender people badly, often claiming suspicion of prostitution when there is no evidence. Still others try to (and sometimes do) enact laws to make it harder for us to access healthcare or even to use the restroom.

There is an unspoken epidemic in this country, and until justice is served and equality given, I will not be silent.

This weighs heavy on my mind

Posted by Aibird on March 19, 2015
Posted in: Author, Writing. Tagged: , , , , . 7 Comments

Note: I first posted this to Facebook. Placed it here with links as a call to action.

I know a lot of trans people in my life, and in the past year, I had to convince several of them to please stay alive. At least two of them were unsuccessful in attempts. This terrifies me, and yet at the same time, I can understand their pain and fear and frustration. It’s hard to see the worth in living in a society like ours.

Society treats us like we’re garbage. There has been numerous times where I’ve encountered people referring to me as an “it.” I’ve had death threats leveled against me. In an alarming amount of states, politicians are putting forth legislation that would make it harder for me to use public restrooms (if I can at all). Studies have shown that trans people have tremendously high rates of discrimination in health care, housing, employment, and are often in poverty. Since the start of this year in the US alone, nearly a dozen trans people have died — some murdered and some by suicide, and these are only the ones reported and found. It is hard to not feel like society is waging a war to destroy us.

Over 40% of trans people will have (or have) attempted suicide. Society tells us over and over that we are better off dead, that we shouldn’t exist, and even in our deaths, we are erased. Families often refusing to honor pronouns, burying us with the wrong names.

For all my trans friends out there, please know that you are loved. Yes, society treats us badly, but I care about you and I don’t want you to die. Please, stay alive with me and let’s build our safe space together.

And to my cisgender friends, please don’t sit on the sidelines. Please fight against society’s war on our bodies and identities — and please help remind us that life is worth living, that we are beautiful and worthy in our own rights, that are identities will be respected and honored, and that we do have hope for a better future.

I really want to believe that life can get better. That death isn’t our only option, and that someday we will live in a society that respects all trans people, affords us the care and dignity all should have, and doesn’t try to kill or vilify us. Please, you have to help us fix society.

Memorial to Those We Have Lost

Posted by Aibird on January 2, 2015
Posted in: Author, Writing. Tagged: , , , , . 1 Comment

On December 28, 2014, Leelah Acorn jumped in front of a truck and died. Not long after her death, a scheduled post to her tumblr appeared on the internet — her suicide note.

Why did she die?

She details it in her suicide note; how her parents forced her into conversion therapy, isolated her, and in the end she saw no hope for herself. Yet even in her darkest moment, she hoped for a better future. In her own words:

“The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights. Gender needs to be taught about in schools, the earlier the better. My death needs to mean something. My death needs to be counted in the number of transgender people who commit suicide this year. I want someone to look at that number and say “that’s fucked up” and fix it. Fix society. Please.”

So many people within the trans community have seen her post, read her words, and thought similar thoughts: “That could have been me.”

A friend of mine wrote me a text three weeks ago. She wrote, “I tried to hang myself.” I remember sitting there, my phone in my hands, and tears blurring my vision. “Never try to hang yourself,” she wrote, “it hurts and my neck is still really red.” She tried to make light of it, but the words still sat there between us. If her mother hadn’t stopped her, hadn’t gotten her help, I would have been standing at her funeral, watching as they buried her in the ground. My hands shook as I begged her to please not try again. To please stay alive. That there is hope, but even as I typed those words, I wondered, is there hope?

She believes she will never pass as a woman, and that she will never be able to live her life as her true self. Just last night, she sent me a text about her feelings of hopelessness. I don’t know how to help, because she can’t see what I see. She does pass; she is a woman and has always been, but she can’t see that because society beats us down again and again with messages that trans lives don’t matter. How we identify doesn’t matter. How we present doesn’t matter. Our bodies are a public billboard for people to smear their hate. In some parts of the world, coming out means being forced into conversion therapy or even being murdered. What hope do we have?

46% of trans men and 42% of transwomen have attempted suicide according to a new study by the Williams Institute and American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. What drives people in my community to suicide? Most media outlets will try to paint us as mentally unstable and broken, as less than human, and that’s why we do it. It is hopelessly ironic that very attitude is part of the reasons. Society vilifies us, paints us a sexual deviants, as freak shows, as less than human, our bodies public. If any of us transition and this is discovered, it’s treated as an expose, as if we are the ones cheating and lying to society about our “biological sex” and thus the hate mail and harassment escalates.

In March 2013, Lucy Meadows killed herself. She worked as a primary school teacher, and only wished to live as her authentic self. Instead, she received hate mail, harassed by the media, and her life turned into this public display — a circus firestorm that painted her as a freak for transitioning. Everyone who had sent the hate mail, the media that had torn apart her life — all of them are complicit in her death. The sad truth is this is far too common, where the media paints us as freaks to dissect and mount like a butterfly pinned to a display board.

Each time a trans person dies by suicide, society is complicit in their death. Leelah died because her family rejected her true self and forced her into conversion therapy, cutting her off from her friends and support groups. That’s psychological abuse, so yes, her family is complicit in her death. Even now they deny Leelah’s true self, trying desperate to erase her words and her self and paint her how they wish to see her. They deny her identity, and in turn wreck damage even in her death. Leelah will not have a memorial or a funeral to her true self. Her family will not give her such dignity or respect. They claim to love her, but they reject her true self, and when you reject someone’s true self, how can you ever claim to love them? Do you not love the image of who you want them to be rather than the person?

Trans lives do matter. We do exist. We should be treated with respect, dignity, and equal to the rest of humanity. We are not less than human. We are not broken freaks. Our identities are true and right for us, and that should be respected and honored.

Yet, that is not how society is. That is not how we are treated. Being trans is often like a death sentence, where we walk on this border between life and death in a society that vilifies us and often hates us. We do not choose to be trans; it is a fact of our lives, inescapable.

So many of my trans friends have no jobs, not because they can’t work, but because no matter how hard they try, very few companies are willing to hire them. We struggle to obtain healthcare for our needs; some of us being denied it to the point of dying from lack of it. We struggle to earn enough money to eat and afford shelter, yet so many of us homeless and starving. We struggle to live as our authentic selves, where so many of us are rejected by our families; so many of us are victims of abuse, domestic violence, and/or rape. Where some of us are murdered for being trans. We struggle to have the dignity to use the bathroom, where so many of us are banned from using restrooms, forced to hold until we find a safe place or worse forced to use the restroom that puts us in danger of our lives. We struggle to stay alive, and if we dare to fight back against our attackers, some of us end up in prison — often in the wrong gendered dorms. The statistics are bleak, and our stories often not heard. Often times, cis (non-trans) people will rewrite our lives, erasing our identities, in order to avoid acknowledging we even exist. Is it any wonder that so many of us seek relief through death?

How many of us must die before society changes? We must do better. We have to try.

Leelah’s plea echoes in my ears. “Fix society. Please.”

On Faith and Narratives

Posted by Aibird on February 24, 2014
Posted in: Author, Uncategorized, Writing. Tagged: , , , . Leave a comment

Throughout my coming out story, there’s a familiar thread of faith and the rejection of the narrative that faith original gave me. Within Let it Go, I described how I came to reject that narrative and the pain it caused. Then in Dusty Old Journals I described the struggle itself, wrought with my own words, people’s perception of who they thought I should be, and how other people tried to define my life. Finally, in To be Free, I tackled the harmful and painful narrative my childhood faith had projected onto my life and the resulting harm it had done to myself, my confidence, and my relationships with others. Today I want to discuss the concept of harmful narratives, why people may buy into them, and alternative narratives that do the least amount of harm.

Faith played an important role in my life. It had defined how I viewed myself and gave me a context in which to view the world and those around me. It provided a narrative for how I viewed our universe and the actions I’d take within my own life. That narrative, as I’ve shown in the above entries, had a profound impact on my life, a highly negative one. Even though I had to reject that narrative and the Christian faith’s role in my life, that doesn’t mean I gave up on the idea of spirituality altogether.

Aspects within that narrative, particularly within Jesus’s part of the narrative, appealed to me even during my darkest moments. The idea of a God that not just loved everyone but was in fact the very definition of love captured my imagination, and gave me a different narrative to explore. Humans, in general, are social creatures, and in order to form those social bonds, love may play a role, especially since people tend to stay with people who treat them with respect, dignity, and acceptance. In regards to myself, I’ve always preferred to seek relationships with others that was rooted in a mutual love and/or caring paradigm, where both of us felt validated, accepted, and nourished by actions and words that sought to uplift rather than harm. Thus the idea of a God that loved me as I am appealed to me, especially during the dark moments of my life where I felt unloved, hurt, and broken; however, I found that I could not engage with such an idea within the paradigm of the Christian community (as I explained in previous entries.)

This idea that God is love forced me to consider what exactly love is, and because of my background, I knew of few narratives outside of Christianity. The Christian narrative provided very differing views depending upon the sect and denomination of Christianity; some of those views tried to define it with verses within the Judeo-Christian Bible, but even these views could be derived more accurately not from the verses they claimed to use but from people’s words and actions. What some Christian sects described as love seemed incredibly harmful to me: the focus upon sins and the condemnation of those sins. This narrative claims that condemnation came from love, and it provided those who sinned a way to examine their life and rectify the problem, thus restoring their relationship with God to good-standing. Except by focusing on sins, the narrative then had to define what exactly counts as sins. Within the Christian community, a vast majority declared certain aspects of a person to be sins, but if this were true, then the condemnation focuses upon aspects of people that are often unchangeable, and if that aspect is unchangeable, the condemnation morphs into a fear or hatred of that group of people. According to this narrative, if a person was not straight and/or cisgender, then that person was considered to be in an unnatural state, trapped in a lifestyle of sin. This narrative caused direct harm, as studies have shown over the years, and those who lived with this narrative had much higher rates of suicide than those who did not have to live with that narrative. I can directly attest to higher levels of suicide thoughts in my own life during the years I lived within this harmful narrative.

This left me with the concept of love not causing harm. If love does no harm, then the above narrative could not be formed from love, because it resulted in direct harm to large groups of people. That particular one was in fact a false narrative, one contrived to further discriminate and harm those that do not fit the prescribed “norm” for that particular faith group. Often times, it acted as a litmus test to try to separate the true faithful from the sinners, and could only result in further segregation of groups of people. You can see the results of this at work in Arizona right now, where legislation passed that allow people to discriminate against LGBT people. The legislation argues that religious freedom means that people should have the right to ban LGBT people from frequenting their establishments and/or the right to deny them service. It’s roots lay in the faith narrative that claims certain aspects of a person as unnatural and thus sinful and/or an abomination in the eyes of those believers and their god. This law causes direct harm, and thus cannot have come from love.

Not everyone who bought into this narrative may realize the direct harm it causes. Because it is a deception, carefully crafted to give people the illusion that it comes from love, but if you examine it closely and seek those it targets, the harm it causes is unmistakable. Some people simply may not have had the opportunity to see the results of this narrative and the direct harm it has caused large swathes of people; the reasons as to why they may not realize this could range from simply not knowing anyone for whom the narrative attacks to never encountering anyone that directly challenges the narrative (some call this a sheltered lifestyle). If a person cannot see the harm the narrative causes, the person may not ever come to the conclusion that the narrative is harmful; instead, they may be trapped in the illusion the narrative offers: a black and white painting of the world, where the sinners are easy to identify and the route to helping them has ready-made answers. Such people may believe they act in love, but because they have not fully examined the narrative and its effects, they may not realize they are perpetuating harm. It is also possible that they may live in denial of this, simply because the thought that they have helped cause others harm provides a cognitive dissonance so great that their minds try to block it out or explain it away. Our brains tend to handle cognitive dissonance poorly to begin with, so this may influence the behaviors of those that encounter evidence or opinions that directly challenge core parts of their faith narrative.

The other possibility is that those who perpetuate the harmful narrative do so because they understand the consequences and the harm it brings and simply do not care. I have always been of the mind that people are naturally good. So I tend toward the stance that people are simply ignorant of the consequences of the harmful narrative, but there has been instances, especially amongst certain politicians and/or religious leaders, that seem to show that some people are fully aware of the consequences and the harm their narrative holds, and simply do not care or view those harmed as unworthy of their attention; such an attitude I find to be lacking in love and rooted in a far more nefarious emotion: hatred and/or resentment.

This is another problem harmful narratives cause. Over time, the more a person buys into a harmful narrative, the less likely love can take root in their hearts. Harmful narratives, which cannot be rooted in love, tend to be rooted instead in either resentment of a different group of people, a fear of that group, or hatred of that group. Because regardless of what the narrative says, it always originates within an emotion coupled with an idea, and from those two seeds, the narrative germinates and grows. By buying into a harmful narrative, its original source – regardless of whether its fear, resentment, or hatred — is what takes root in your heart. Love requires space, time, and energy, but if your heart is already filled with narratives rooted in those harmful sources, then there is little to no space for love to take root.

In my definition of love, love does no harm, but how does a person avoid harm? One way to do this is through cognitive empathy. Empathy is the act of placing yourself in another’s shoes to understand them as they are. To empathize with another, a bond of trust and understanding must be formed, where the goal is a positive social act, one that uplifts rather than denigrates. Empathy forces a person to examine the possible consequences an action or word may have on another person. This requires time, space, and cultivation to do well. If empathy is a core component of love, then love itself must require time, space, and cultivation as well. If a person’s heart tends toward a fearful, hateful, or resentful response, then the time and space empathy requires is absent because that space is taken up by the more harmful responses. Our reactions to others and the ideas we may encounter requires time and space into which our actions come into being; it is all too easy to fall back on habits and thoughts that dominate our life narrative, and if those habits and thoughts are rooted in a harmful narrative, then the resulting action may in turn become harmful. To react with love, a person would have to pause and seriously consider the consequences their actions may have on other people and upon themselves. Reacting with love seems to require more time and space than simply reacting with fear, resentment, or hatred. I think part of this is due to the problem of cognitive dissonance and our flight/fight instincts. When encountering discomfort (especially extreme discomfort), people tend to react instinctively to defend themselves and alleviate the discomfort as quickly as possible. Except empathy and love takes time, energy, and space, so reacting quickly to alleviate the discomfort may not give the person time to act with love. Instead, the instincts may tend toward a defensive response rooted in fear or resentment or even hatred, whichever of the three is most prevalent within that person’s life (or faith) narrative.

Another important point is as much as someone may wish to live a life of love and react only in a loving manner, it is impossible to act with love in every possible situation due to our imperfect natures. Our instincts are wired to react with either flight or fight in confrontations, and in order to overcome that base instinct, a person has to cognitively override the instinct. This takes energy and time to do so constructively. There are some situations where the time and energy required simply is not available to that person, and thus the instincts overrule the cognitive process temporarily. There are also many situations where there is time to override those instincts, and that is where a person can do the most good, where they can seek a loving narrative rather than perpetuating a harmful one.

Examining the narratives that instruct and influence your life and actions requires time, energy, and space. It also requires a person to admit when and if a narrative is harmful and turn their energies into adopting a more loving narrative; this requires again time, energy, and space. It also requires a person to override those base instincts to defend themselves and their beliefs, where they allow themselves to be open to examining the evidence that conflicts with their original dominant narrative. As humans, we often define ourselves by our beliefs, and any time a belief is questioned or shown to be in conflict with evidence within nature, science, experiences, and other people – this forces a person to either face this cognitive dissonance and allow themselves to openly question the belief, possibly changing it toward a different viewpoint, or they can reject the evidence and fall back to the instinctual response to defend their narrative (and/or ‘territory’) regardless of potential harmful consequences. However, there are times where defending one’s beliefs are imperative. These moments may be for those that hold evidence proving that a specific narrative is harmful; if so, then yes, they must defend their beliefs and evidence, because causing harm is not a loving action. There are also times where defending one’s beliefs may cause further harm, especially if those beliefs are already rooted in a harmful narrative; this is when the loving action requires the person to let go of that harmful narrative and consider a more loving one instead.

Doing the above is not easy to do. It will be painful and hard. Our minds are still wired in that instinct to defend; to fight or flee, and overriding it is a great challenge, but if we are to live a life of love, then we must examine the narratives that shape our lives and influences our actions. For everything we do and say has consequences. We do not live in a bubble; our actions and words ripple through the lives of others, for good or ill. Living a life of love requires a commitment to examining the narratives we encounter within society and within our own hearts and lives, and then rejecting the narratives that cause harm and are rooted in hatred, fear, or resentment.

That is the core of my beliefs: Love does no harm. I prefer a world where love is abundant, where people are treated with respect, dignity, and acceptance rather than hate, fear, or resentment. I have seen and experienced in my own life the effects that fear, hate, and resentment can cause, and I do not wish that upon others, because it is painful and damaging. I’d rather lift people up then to tear them down. And so, I came to the conclusion that I must try my best to seek loving narratives, so that my behaviors and words are rooted in love. This is why I must reject the narratives that cause harm, and why I ended up rejecting the majority of my childhood faith. I am not a perfect being, and thus I may fail at times, but I cannot give up this quest. I must continue to examine the narratives in my life, the narratives within our society, and my own reactions to others in order to try to act with love. In doing so, I hope I can lessen the harm inflicted upon others, and in turn provide others with hope and encouragement that yes, things can get better, and that yes, you are not alone and you are loved just as you are.

A love filled life is possible, but it involves a lot of work. Are you ready for such a commitment?

To be Free

Posted by Aibird on February 18, 2014
Posted in: Author, Writing. Tagged: , , , . 2 Comments

This is my final entry about my coming out story. See Let it go and Dusty Old Journals for the other two parts of my story. Thank you to all of my friends and family who support me and accept me as I am.

This weekend, I stood in church for the first time in years. My hands clasped behind my back, I listened to the priest as he stood by the altar. Words and phrases I’d heard all my life felt strange to my ears, as if they’d transformed into something new while I was away. My oldest sister had found her match, and they sat in two chairs, the closest ones to the steps in front of the altar. It was their day, the union between them, and as much as I wished them happiness, I felt a surge of sorrow, for the words the priest said, the words that bound them together in union before the Lord would not be said to me. Not here in this Catholic Church with the vaulted ceiling and the stained glass windows. Not here, in the Church where I’d spent nearly every Sunday of my childhood under its roof, celebrating the Mass and partaking of communion. Not here, where I knelt in the pews and sang the songs within the Liturgy and Eucharist.

The priest, after the long prayers of blessing, invited everyone to step forward for communion, and those who could not partake of the blood and body of Christ could hold their arms across their chest to receive a blessing. I did not stand to receive it, but instead sat in the chair within my row, and looked down at the hymnal, the notes and words of the songs a blur. I sang the songs, mostly to exercise my voice, to practice proper breathing techniques for singing. I tried not to think about the words, nor what they had meant to me. I came because it was my sister’s wedding, but I did not wish to be back in that Church. To be under the roof of a religion that had painted such a bleak future for me, one in which members had sought to deny my rights, to place me in a second class beneath them. Christianity held a sour taste in my mouth, because of the legacy it had left within my life, the craters of pain. Some Christians sought to change the orientation of people like me, but within my Catholic heritage, the focus of change came veiled under the idea of being chaste, to live as if one was straight, and to avoid the temptations of the gay lifestyle. The pamphlets, the denial, the urgency to quell the discussions before they even started – all of it tumbled from the lips and hands of Christian friends and a few family members, and I took their words to heart. They believed what they said was true, that they simply hated the sin and loved the sinner. Yet their determination to hate the sin blinded them to the harmful narrative pushed upon people like me; I did not see words spoken with love, but instead, I saw words spoken with a hatred of the sin, a hatred that slowly began to shift from the sin to the sinner, until I could no longer distinguish between them speaking of the sin and them speaking of me. The narrative had shifted the conversation until the sin and sinner became one, and the words of condemnation overtook any chance to love.

Words sink like water into soil, seeping into the roots within the mind, and blossoming into actions and thoughts that forever mark one’s life. I remember a retreat I went on during my time at U of I, and there in this camp by the lake, I climbed the ladder to a tower. I felt this desire to reach the top, to feel the wind in my hair, and to stand on the railing, to see the ground below me, and to just fall. To let the ground swallow me, so that it would all end. End all the torment and confusion and fear.

K, my childhood friend, called me at that exact moment. As I heard her voice, a wealth of tears overtook the desire for death, and although I didn’t tell her what was truly wrong, I realized that I had to walk away from the edge. I had to find a different way to deal with this. I turned and left that tower and returned to the retreat, where my Catholic friends spoke and sang about God and how God could heal all things.

That belief that I could change my orientation blossomed from the words spoken by my Christian friends, and so I contacted the ex-gay ministry of Exodus International in 2006. The emails I sent, I sent with fear, but if this could be changed, then would it not end my torment? Would I not be free from the shackles of my orientation, and maybe even live a normal life, the way the Church had taught — union of man and woman? Or maybe I’d be content with the life of a celibate, a sister or nun in the arms of God’s work. I just had to stop the desires to be with a woman. I had to stop them from haunting my thoughts and dreams, because if I gave in to them, was I not sinning? Was I not falling into darkness? I had to be cleansed, didn’t I?

Ever since I could remember, I’d sought prayers from family and friends in an effort to help me win over the girls I wished to befriend — to be with them forever, to share a life. For me, this felt natural, but over time, the more I listened and watched my family’s actions and heard their words and that of the teachings of the Church, I learned that marriage existed only between a man and a woman, and that because of this, I would not marry. I remember at a young age, I wrote that down, only to cross the words out in my journals. Writing it made it real, and so I crossed it out in hopes of crossing it out of myself.

The Exodus International people sent me book suggestions and their words proliferated through my mind, like a noose around my neck. I walked away from those emails feeling unclean and forgotten by God. That I no longer walked in the light, and the closeness I had once felt with Christ felt a million miles away. I read every book I could find on the topic, and their words flew like arrows into my heart, piercing my soul. I felt bruised and lost amongst the waterfall of words, of earnest debate over whether or not people like me should be allowed to exist as we are. I remember so clearly my very close friend, K, earnestly trying to convince me that she knew I wasn’t that way, that I couldn’t be that way, because she knew I was good and that we were sisters in Christ. How could I let the world lead me astray?

The question haunted me. Had the world lead me astray? Yet, these thoughts, these desires, and this wish to find a female partner for life had been with me for as long as I could remember. I feared that everyone was wrong; that I was not the child of God but an abomination. The clobber verses my friends and family pointed to spoke in harsh tones, but yet at the same time, the context within the verses felt unclear, and the harsh words — abomination, unclean — they didn’t fit the picture my family attempted to paint for me, the person they thought I was and wanted me to be. I was to be the evangelist, the warrior for Christ, the fervent believer that fought hard for the faith, and that lived with joy and peace in my heart. Except I never was that person. I tried so hard to be that girl. I spent my high school years sharing my faith with friends, debating with my fellow Christians, and fervently trying to live as if I held only joy and peace in my heart. I had memorized Bible verses, and I had ready made replies as to what the Church taught, but there was still this disquiet in my heart that I tried so hard to squash and sought to pray it all away. I knew I was different, that I was an outcast, a weird anomaly, and when I came to college and learned that there were others like me, others who also felt attraction to the same sex, I felt confused and terrified. What was truth? Were these people leading me astray as my friend feared?

Over and over, my Christian friends spoke of healing and cures for those who left behind the gay lifestyle, and yet, what was that lifestyle? What did those words even mean? The emails I sent to Exodus International held ready made answers, and a fervent wish to have me enroll in one of their programs, so that I could be delivered from my torment. I didn’t reply to that final email, and instead sought thoughts from my family. I didn’t know what to do, and one of my sisters, the one who held the degree in psychology, told me that ex-gay ministries were wrong; that they had no scientific proof that orientation can be changed, so I didn’t go. But it didn’t quell the desperate search for a cure, a way to change my orientation and to change myself so that I would become the person my Christian friends and family wished for me.

I wrote journal entry after journal entry debating this topic with myself; I tried to explain it all away, and I tried to dig through my memories and previous journals for the truth. The words of my friend, K, held enormous impact on how I viewed myself; she reiterated the narrative of condemnation, but it was because she believed the narrative and worried about my soul. She spoke of it in hopes that I could be freed from this. She wished for only the best for me. Yet the words from her and my other Christian friends and the majority of my family had taught me that to be gay wasn’t healthy. From those words, a deep fear and a growing hatred toward this part of myself bound me in chains. And so I spent reams of paper trying to convince myself that they were right; I sought ways of changing it and tried to pray it away. I tried so hard and fought so hard, and then, in a fit of desperation, I forced myself to date a man in 2007. It ended in disaster, because no matter how hard I tried, I could not feel any attraction toward him, and despite his efforts, I became a shell of my former self, a puppet to his whims, until one day he pushed me so hard, that I sat in a pool of my own blood.

My Americorps teammates saved me from that wreckage of a relationship, and they walked with me during the final months of our projects. They spoke about being gay in a very different way than my Christian friends and family, and they spoke not with condemnation but with acceptance: “It’s okay to be gay.” Such a thought astonished me, because that was not the narrative I had heard. I’d heard so many Christians say again and again: “It’s not okay to be gay.”

Which was the truth? I’d reached a crossroads, and to find the truth, I had to let go of everything. The day had come, where I stood beside that lake, and turned and left everything behind. I had to break the chains of fear and finally step into the light. Out of the closet, through the fires of discrimination and pain, and finally into the greatest peace I’d ever known: the moment where I finally accepted myself and celebrated who I was without fear.

The journey was hard; it was painful, and it took me years, where I not only fought these inner demons but also fought to heal from other traumas that littered my life. I had purge myself of the thought that I was broken and an abomination. I had to learn how to love myself as I am.

As I went to the wedding reception after the Mass this weekend, I felt that familiar fear that the narrative I’d fought so hard to expel from my life might rear its ugly head again. But it didn’t. Instead, I discovered yet again that I wasn’t alone in this journey. That I hadn’t ever been alone. I had allies. I had friends who supported me as I am. In my darkest moments when the confusion and pain and fear threatened to choke the life from my body, even then, I hadn’t been alone. Because as dark and painful as my story seems at times, I realize now that for every handful of people who sought to change me and/or hurt me, there was at least one who sought to celebrate me as I am.

It is my hope that in writing this I unveil the harmful narrative that darkened so many years of my life. To reveal it for what it is: a falsehood that lead me astray and those close to me astray. It is my hope that I can free myself from that narrative, but also, in writing this, I can free others from it.

So now I set forth on a new journey, where I live my life of love as myself. Free to be me.

Addendum: There is far more to my story, and my journey didn’t end here, for once I came to accept my sexuality, I found that my gender identity was a great bundle of confusion. This proved even harder to admit to others. That story is yet to come.