delfin bautista and Quince Mountain with Heath Mackenzie Reynolds
HUMANS ARE CREATURES THAT SEEK CONNECTION TO OTHER BEINGS AND PLACES. We try to understand our worlds, both material and spiritual. Religious and spiritual practice may offer us an outlet for these needs.
Some of us are wary of religion, having been brought up within religious communities and institutions that may not have accepted us. But for many of us, religion has been a source of connection, meaning, and purpose. Our places and communities of worship may be our places of public celebration, social support, and even of childhood education. For others of us, religious or spiritual practice may be a private, personal way of recentering or reconnecting with ourselves, away from the noisy world. Religion can also be a kind of framework upon which, or around which, we sculpt our lives. Those of us with deep faith are likely to consider the values and beliefs associated with our religion before determining a course of action in our transition.
For some of us, our sacred practices are not connected to a higher power or divine creator. Many of us adhere to humanist doctrines of human agency or core principles that honor innate goodness and human rights. Many of us are atheists who do not believe in God. Others who are not atheists may be agnostic, unconcerned, or simply unsure about God.
Even for those of us not currently engaged in religious practice, habits of our childhood religions can strongly influence our feelings and actions. Our surrounding cultural norms—in which religion is often deeply embedded—can also affect our approaches to life.
FAITH IS MY MIDDLE NAME
Miles Rutendo Tanhira is a Zimbabwean LGBT rights activist, a journalist, feminist, and pacifist.
Faith is my middle name (Rutendo shona). I got this name when I was baptized as an infant in The Salvation Army Church. Having grown up in a Christian family, I was constantly reminded that I should follow the teachings of the Bible, and that attending church was as important as the air I breathe. As was expected of any junior soldier, I memorized Bible verses and sang Sunday school hymns, but there was one problem: the uniform. It made me feel uncomfortable in the house of God. It made me miserable. Then puberty hit me. I began to feel more and more like a stranger in the church I had grown up in. Teachings on “womanhood” and wearing skirts and blouses were harsh reminders of the internal conflict I was going through. I was drifting from the church and becoming a “rebel.”
Although my cousins graduated to senior soldiers in the church, I did not. I felt I had let my mum down. I needed to make it up to her. I then resorted to the scripture union group at school. At least I could wear trousers to the Doonamies scripture union church group. The worst two years of my life. I had the liberty to wear what I wanted, but I still felt an emptiness. I had a horrid time, and the more I attended church service, the more I felt dirty, exposed, and uncomfortable with myself. I had a girlfriend, and I used to break up with her after every church service. I hated myself for not repenting and for failing to resist this temptation.
It was not until my mom passed on when I was 22 that I was reminded of the need to sort out my spirituality. I started going back to my family church, wore her skirts, attended services, and soon graduated as a senior soldier. I wanted to make my mum proud. Slowly during this process I began to rebuild my spirituality. Then a conference on religion and sexuality in 2009 changed my life. I met other LGBT religious people. There I began a process to self-discovery. I became comfortable with identifying as a transgender person. I began to approach the scriptures with an open mind. I certainly didn’t need to be in a skirt to have a relationship with God.
Looking at my life, I know now my middle name was not a coincidence. I am hoping to become a theologian and one day serve as a pastor to preach love that heals broken souls.
RELIGION AND TRANS IDENTITY
Just as transgender is an umbrella term used to describe a continuum of identities, so too are religion and spirituality umbrella terms covering all manner of relationships with that which is greater than one’s self. For some of us, there is a connection or intersection of faith and spirituality with our trans identities; for others, the two do not interact in any way.
“I’m an agnostic who attends Quaker meetings regularly. I began to identify as agnostic rather than atheist just about when I started to think seriously about transitioning. I see these two changes as connected: in both cases, I had to acknowledge that there was more to truth than logical necessity. Transitioning and admitting the possibility of religious faith both require the possibility of an internal reality that contradicts or transcends the truths proffered by external authorities. And to the extent that I identify with Quakerism, its focus on the sanctity of the individual’s connection with God or whatever else you call the source of truth fits very well with the imperative for a trans individual to define themself in their own terms.”
The umbrella of religion and spirituality includes people who belong to traditional faith communities, people who belong to nontraditional (or “alternative”) faith communities, and those who neither belong to institutionalized or organized religious groups nor believe in God but have reverence for some kind of higher power.
There are a plethora of ways trans people relate or do not relate to religion. We range from devout Christians to Reform Jews to practicing Wiccans or pagans to meditating Buddhists to agnostics who acknowledge varying ideas of spiritual goodness to atheists who believe in neither God nor in religion as a whole.
God means many different things to different people and takes a variety of shapes and forms. While there are compelling themes we may find shared between religions, we must also honor that there are vital differences in beliefs and values between faith groups. As trans people, we recognize the importance of the language people use to identify themselves. Similar to the language we use to describe our gender and sexual identity, the language of religion reflects a genuine diversity of practices, rituals, and deities worshipped around the world.
HOW RELIGIOUS COMMUNITIES ENGAGE TRANS IDENTITIES
Many religious communities have barely begun the process of affirming gay, lesbian, and bisexual individuals, much less trans people. We are often not even blips on the radar of most congregations, and our needs and concerns are often overlooked. Many of us struggle to reconcile our faith within religious institutions that do not recognize nonbinary understandings of gender or do not acknowledge transgender as an identity in their religious community, theology, or practice. Some religious communities are even involved in practicing reparative therapy, which can be harmful to our identities and spiritual selves. As a result, it can be difficult to reconcile our religious identity with our trans and queer identity.
“I have always been a spiritually oriented person. My Christianity was a source of shame and self-loathing when I was a teen.”
“When I was still identifying as Christian, the LGBT community was a bit cold toward that aspect. It seems that Christianity and queer are mutually exclusive, but I don’t think they need to be.”
“Religious ideas and a genderqueer identity are at times hard to reconcile, especially within religious communities. They believe there’s something wrong with you—they accept you. . . but they think there’s something wrong.”
“I am quite religious. In fact, I am an ordained minister. Fortunately, my denomination is very accepting so I have absolutely no issues there. There are many people of faith I have encountered in the trans community. Unfortunately, many have been driven from religion by lack of acceptance in their own churches or vile demagoguery from groups like Focus on the Family.”
Creating a Welcoming Religious Community
Whether we belong to a religious community or are searching for one, there are a number of ways that a congregation or fellowship can be more inclusive of people of all genders.
Official Business
Do registration or documentation forms within the community include ways for an individual who chooses to identify as transgender to be able to do so? Does the congregation or denomination have a nondiscrimination policy?
Physical Space
Is the physical space in which a group gathers trans-friendly? One indication of this is the availability of gender-neutral or family bathrooms. Do you open your doors an hour before attendees are expected to arrive to give trans people an opportunity to change their clothing and be more comfortable than they may be out in the world? If spaces of worship are divided by gender, do trans people have access to the space designated for their affirmed gender?
Public Advocacy
Are members of the congregation or fellowship involved in advocacy efforts for trans equality? Advocacy efforts and public witness demonstrate concretely a community’s commitment to equality for all. Religious groups may participate in Transgender Day of Celebration or Transgender Day of Visibility to commemorate and honor the lives of transgender individuals within the ritual, liturgical, or worship life of the community.
Education and Activism
Does the community or group have access to resources to engage trans issues? Organizations with trans curricula and workshops include the Institute for Welcoming Resources, the Human Rights Campaign, the Religious Institute, the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies in Religion and Ministry (CLGS), Trans-Faith, Trans-Torah, and the LGBT Religious Archives Network.
Religious Practice
During liturgies, rituals, or cultic practices that honor women or men, specifically, are trans individuals included? In studies of scriptural and sacred texts, are trans-positive and trans-affirming interpretations part of the conversation? If we desire to do so, are we welcome to openly acknowledge and discuss our identity from the pulpit or altar? Are there opportunities to celebrate renaming or gender transition within the faith community? Are phrases such as “people of all genders” used in worship, sermons, bulletins, or other parts of the community?
Religious Leadership and Participation
Are trans individuals welcome to take on leadership roles within the congregation or group? Doing so allows us to contribute to the community based on our gifts and talents—to be seen as more than our trans identity.
Many of us have left our religious communities altogether, whether by choice or by force. Choosing to walk away from these communities as a response to injustice or bias can be empowering. However, it can also be isolating and traumatic, especially for people for whom participation in religious communities is important.
“I am religious and spiritual, but not in [my city]. The way they teach faith is wrong and hurtful towards people who are GLBT. . . One church I went to, the First Assembly of God, was progressive but then changed to a conservative Old Testament approach, and I stopped going.”
“I am a religious person but have been afraid to go back to my church. I sometimes wish to contact the church and find out what their reaction would be. It would be nice to have communion again sometime.”
“It has been traumatic to experience the rejection of the religious community. . . I have been hesitant to participate in that community as a man. . . But I have participated as male a few times (especially while traveling and going to synagogues where nobody knows I’m trans) and that was very meaningful to me.”
As trans people, we are not alone in moving away from religion. Many people, both trans and cis, have found themselves leaving their faith communities in the last decade.
For those of us who feel a connection to our religion but have been unable to find a welcoming community, we may seek out new ways of worship or communities that accept and affirm our identities. A growing number of traditions now have specific organizations or communities for trans and LGBTQ people.
“I’ve been an evangelical Christian since I was 15 years old. Thanks to my grandma’s support, I’ve been able to hold on to my faith through discrimination and hateful misuse of Scripture and belief by others.”
“After I changed my name and started my RLE (real life experience), I was asked to resign from a volunteer position at my church, and so my wife and I left that parish, one we had attended for 10 years, for one closer to home that was more accepting of LGBT individuals and couples.”
“The first thing that happened when I transitioned was that I lost my connection to my church. I’ve recently started attending an LGBT friendly church and like it.”
While many faith communities have begun to actively reach out to gay and lesbian participants, the specific concerns and experiences of trans communities are often missing.
TRANS POLITICAL LEADERS: VLADIMIR LUXURIA
Jamie Roberts and Anneliese Singh
Vladimir Luxuria was elected to office in Italy in 2006 as the first trans person in a national parliament in Europe. She immediately attracted heat from conservative politicians and other figures in the heavily Roman Catholic country. Alessandra Mussolini, granddaughter of Benito Mussolini, the infamous dictator of Italy, went on TV and said of Luxuria: “Better to be fascist than a faggot.” Some of the conservatives in Parliament, both before and after the election, publicly fretted about which restroom Luxuria would use. Subsequently, members of the center-right party called for the creation of separate trans restrooms. Thankfully, deputies of the ruling coalition came to Luxuria’s defense. Luxuria was not shy about running on her desire to win more rights for LGBTQ Italians, advocating for civil unions for same-sex and heterosexual couples alike, as well as reform of prostitution laws. She was also not alone, as several other lesbians and gays were elected to Parliament that year.
CHRISTIANITY
Christianity is the most common religion in the United States. Most major Christian denominations have organizations that support LGBTQ Christians. Some examples are Dignity (Catholic), the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists, Evangelicals Concerned (Evangelical/Pentecostal), AXIOS (Eastern Orthodox), and Kinship (Seventh Day Adventists).
Some LGBTQ Christian groups, such as Affirmation (Mormon) have specific groups or projects for trans members. Others, like the Unity Fellowship, strive to create congregations that are nonhierarchical and nonoppressive, and include people of a range of gender and sexual identities.
“I am Catholic. In spite of the attitude of the Church hierarchy towards LGBT people, I have actually been practicing more since my transition, thanks to the Dignity organization for LGBT Catholics.”
“I am a Christian and quite spiritual. This actually kept me in the closet for a long time. When I finally studied the bible as an adult, I found that the bible does NOT condemn the LGBT community at all. That is a great crime perpetrated by the corrupt church institutions. I now attend MCC church and know of several fully accepting churches.”
BEING A TRANS MONK
A Franciscan friar
I’m a Roman Catholic monk. And I’m transgendered. I’ve come to decide that I’m not a monk despite being trans, but rather because I’m trans. That’s the really funny part. I no longer buy the binary m/f routine. I’m not one or the other—I’m both and neither. Of course, it cramps my style. I can’t be fully the monk I want to be and advocate for the TG community—nor can I fully be the woman I could be because of the monastery.
One definition of spirituality—the approach to the Divine—is that it’s the process of self-revelation. We learn and say who we are, fully and without fear. If fear is the opposite of love, then we grow in love when we take off our masks. A major mask I have worn is that of being a man.
I started by rifling through my mother’s underwear drawer without a shred of self-awareness. She must have known but never said anything. This became one of my patterns for many years. I’ve purged and shorn my soul and my closet too many times.
One thing that held me back is that the transgendered dimension has to do with sexuality. Clothes and the gender line are erotic for me. And, though the erotic is recognized by many/most cultures as an aspect of the Divine and as a source of revelation, the dominant thread of Christianity came to insist that love is spiritual and emotional, not physical or erotic. In the culture I grew up in, sex was covered over in toxic shame. My cross-dressing was infected by toxic shame.
A major source of self-knowledge is through categories. “Gender” is a phenomenally deep category. Religion is a large avenue of categorization, especially “good” versus “evil.” With full authority, they say that there are two genders only and that the one we’re “born into” is ordained by God. They’re wrong.
A thread of early Christianity was egalitarian. St. Paul says that in Christianity, there is no slave or free, Easterner or Westerner, or male or female. But why I am a Roman Catholic monk goes further than egalitarianism. In addition to historical accident, one short answer is the Sacrament of Eucharist, in its insistence on the physical body and on community.
Beyond the psychological, transgender leads to true religion in its insistence on making space for the other; for the other as they are, not as I say they are. But above all, our transgender selves are turned toward a deep and abiding peace. Currently, the fundamental means of conflict resolution in our world is violence. For me, our insistence on self-revelation is a radical act of nonviolence. We are helping create a safe place for self-revelation.
We who are transgendered are making ourselves incredibly vulnerable when we take off our masks. This vulnerability will eventually result in a safe place. For me, the function of church is to create that safe place—and ultimately to prevent war. This is why I remain a monk. I’m not a man. I’m not a woman either. And I’m a monk. This makes me laugh and sing and dance.
While denominations vary widely on whether they ordain LGB and trans-identified people, there are increasing numbers of out trans-identified people both in congregations and in positions of religious leadership. There are also a number of community-, issue-, and region-specific LGBTQ Christian organizations, including TRUUST, a network of trans Unitarians who have professional careers within the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations.
“I’m a Unitarian Universalist. I’m lucky it’s a very open and accepting church, and really tries hard to be that way. There’s even a trans support group at my church so I’ve never felt my being trans to be at odds with my religious views at all.”
While many resources for trans Christians fall under the larger rubric of LGBTQ, there are some organizations and projects that more specifically target working with trans people within their denominations and congregations.
Born out of the spiritual needs of lesbian and gay communities in the United States, the Metropolitan Community Church is an international Christian movement, multidimensional in scope, that provides support to the fellowship and its local churches, not only through its Trans/GNC Advisory Council but also through the work of its trans and gender nonconforming clergy and lay leaders.
ISLAM
Though there are no publicly known LGBTQ-specific mosques in North America at this time, there are a few options available for trans Muslims who are seeking a welcoming environment for religious practice, including El-Tawhid Juma Circle in Toronto and local affiliates for Muslims for Progressive Values in Los Angeles, Atlanta, Philadelphia, New York City, Washington D.C., and Ottowa. Imaan is a similar group operating out of the United Kingdom, and the Safra Project is a group for lesbian, bisexual, and trans women in the United Kingdom. The Safra Project also includes some textual analysis regarding sexuality, gender, and Islam.
“I pray, fast and give zakat. Unfortunately it is not easy for me to do Hajj both for financial reasons and because I have a very female body. . .. Sometimes I feel bad praying as a man and sometimes as a woman. It’s something I’m still working on.”
Cultural organizations also allow members to come together in a religious context. These include the Iranian Railroad for Queer Refugees, Taqaseem (a Chicago-based group that supports LGBTQ people from the Middle East and North Africa), Trikone (a group for LGBTQ South Asians in San Francisco), and the South Asian Lesbian and Gay Association in New York.
There are a number of Web sites and email groups for LGBTQ Muslims, and a few that focus on trans Muslim experiences. Queer Jihad and Starjack both offer useful resources for LGBTQ Muslims, including specifics for trans people.
Many Muslims and Islamic supporters have expressed excitement over the announcement of the newly formed Muslim Alliance for Sexual and Gender Diversity founded at the 2013 Creating Change Conference hosted by the National Gay and Lesbian Taskforce. The “Queer Muslim Working Group,” made up of Muslim sexual and gender justice advocates and professionals, shared that the new Alliance will create dialogue and develop resources in support of women and the LGBTQ community, which have traditionally been excluded or marginalized from the practice and leadership of Islam.
JUDAISM
There are a number of organizations and projects that pay particular attention to the needs and concerns of trans Jews, ranging from organizations like Nehirim and Keshet, which both aim to support LGBTQ Jews in their communities, to specific projects like TransTorah, a Web site that provides essays, prayers, liturgies, and educational resources that focus on the experience of trans Jews. Another project called TransTexts specifically examines Jewish textual resources to see what they have to say about gender in general and about transgender and gender nonconforming people specifically.
“I am a Reform Jew, and I have become more religious slowly with transition. My aunt, a rabbi, even performed a mikveh ceremony—a ritual cleansing bath used to mark all kinds of life transitions—for me.”
“I am Jewish. It is against the Jewish religion to permanently alter your body, and it is something with which I struggle. I have to weigh my beliefs and dedication to god with wanting to feel more comfortable in my own skin.”
“I am not religious or spiritual, but I try to have a cultural connection with my Jewishness. I have to actively seek out trans-friendly congregations (such as the Society for Humanistic Judaism).”
There are increasing numbers of Jewish communities that have visible trans congregants and members, as well as increasing numbers of trans religious leaders. The rise of LGBTQ-specific congregations, such as Congregations Beth Simchat Torah (New York City) and Sha’ar Zahav (San Francisco), has been very important in opening up space for trans Jews in congregations. There are also congregations, minyans, and communities of Jews outside of LGBTQ-focused shuls that actively welcome and work on being accessible to trans people. In 2004, Mayyim Hayyim, a Boston-area mikveh, was created as an accessible and affirming place for trans people to seek spiritual renewal through Jewish ritual practices such as individual prayer and ritual baths, which is an indication of both possibility and shifting ideology within traditional Jewish practices. Mayyim Hayyim’s founder, author Anita Diamant, has described her goal as creating a place for gay, lesbian, and transgender Jews to take part in physical rituals without judgment from conservative mikveh attendants.
“My family is Reconstructionist Jewish, and they attend an extremely liberal synagogue. I’m not out to the people there, but one day I’ll have to be. When that time comes, I don’t anticipate anything other than acceptance.”
“I had one very very uncomfortable experience where I was helping to make a men’s-only prayer quorum in my synagogue and was asked, point-blank, if I was male or not. I no longer pray with that community, and it was very alienating for a long time.”
“I am a liberal Jew. I’ve found a Jewish community that is very supportive of BTLG folks in general, and is pleasantly egalitarian in a lot of ways. I plan to have a mikvah ritual to religiously formalize my name change, but I haven’t done that yet.”
MY TRANSGENDER PASSOVER
Julian Barlow is a preservice elementary school teacher, living and working in Brooklyn, New York.
Passover has always been my favorite holiday. I never truly understood why until recently. There are the obvious explanations that cannot go unmentioned—my Grandma Edie’s mouthwatering matzo ball soup, the balance of seriousness and hilarity that my friends and family bring to our seders, my mom’s richly flavored flourless chocolate cake—it’s an endless list. Just on the surface, the food is delish and the company is phenomenal.
While doing some basic research to brush up on my Passover knowledge, I found a video on the PBS Web site in which Rabbi Sharon Brous from Los Angeles speaks of the importance of Passover themes and how they translate to the present and to the future. She says, “the symbols on the seder plate are some of the most powerful ways of communicating what the essence of the Passover experience really is about.”
The symbology behind each item on the seder plate helped me negotiate my emotions during this recent time that I came out to my immediate family.
Let’s begin with the beitzah—roasted egg. It’s representative of the possibility of something new, or rebirth. Big changes are coming for everyone and I think this should remind us to embrace the new parts of our lives.
Dipping the karpas into the salt water evokes the memory of tears shed during our suffering. But from those hard times, something new and beautiful has emerged. We did, and we will again, overcome adversity.
Charoset represents the brick and mortar. Rabbi Brous adds that it signifies the ironic sweetness of being stuck in a life that you know you don’t want to stay in, but it’s comfortable because you’ve been there for a long time. In some ways it seems easier not to transition, but this is my identity and making this change will result in something far sweeter—living my life authentically and ultimately with much deeper happiness.
Bitter herbs remind us that even though we have attained a level of freedom, there is a bitterness that accompanies all that is unknown about our futures. Transition is something I have never experienced before and there is a bitterness and unease about what this new life holds for me.
Rabbi Brous ends her video by mentioning the significance of the zeroah—shank bone. Freedom only came to the Israelites after the night that they put the blood on the doorposts of their homes and said—and I am saying this now as a transgender person as well—“I’m ready to take part in my own liberation right now.”
Three thousand years ago we, as a people, made the decision to become untethered. Right now, we can once again liberate ourselves from our own personal captivities and become free with the support and strength from our friends, from our families, and from within.
EXPERIENCES FROM OTHER SPIRITUAL COMMUNITIES IN THE UNITED STATES
How we are accepted and the roles we are able to play in our spiritual and religious traditions vary. Trans people are represented in Buddhist, Hindu, pagan and neopagan communities, Santeria, and various Native American religious practices, as well as secular humanism and many other religious and spiritual groups.
There are organizations such as The Queer East, for LGB and trans people of Asian descent, and NativeOut, for Two-Spirit Native Americans, which compile cultural and religious resources for their communities.
WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE A QUEER INDIAN?
Cassidy Anne Medicine Horse, MA, is a university instructor, invited lecturer, film director, LGBT political activist, transgender scholar, and researcher working in Bozeman, Montana, and a member of the American Indigenous Research Association, American Association of University Women (AAUW), and the Montana State University LGBT Advisory Committee (AIRA).
On numerous occasions, I have been asked what it is like to be a queer Indian. Unfortunately, I am not at all sure that a definitive answer is possible, as both the words queer and Indian leave much room for individual interpretation and incorporate aspects of life that may be unfamiliar to some.
The concept of crossing genders was well understood in Native culture prior to the period of colonization that began in North America 500 years ago. Rather than being stigmatized, some tribes saw the presence of a cross-gendered individual as good luck and as a vital thread in the social, spiritual, and cultural web—a gift from a creative power.
A gender-crossing individual serves as a critical link in the balance of nature. As indigenous people, our traditionally innate understanding of our universal position is that we are connected directly to nature, not removed from it. We are at once both the essence of nature, as well as an aspect of it. To “see” with the experience and heart of both a man and a woman is our gift from the universe and our responsibility to our people.
Colonial mentality brought with it Christianity and, unfortunately, much of the associated baggage of an agenda-driven Europe. The disruption of thousands of years of indigenous spiritual understanding ensued and in its place was offered a pale concept of religious conformity.
Today, in the opening decades of the 21st century, we as Native people, and more significantly as gender-crossing individuals, are emerging from a long sleep of enforced compliance and entering an age in which it is necessary to look deeper.
My spirituality does not demand shame, dehumanization, or anonymity for being a woman, but rather encourages me to embrace the strength of my femininity as a gift and an affirmation of my place in the universe. Further, my spirituality tells me to have ceremony, even if it is private, as it honors our ancestors and our traditions. Finally, my spirituality tells me to seek out the elders and to ask their advice and to use the understanding of my womanhood to always “come a good way.”
Perhaps, after all else has been said and I am again asked, at some future date, what it is like to be a queer Indian, I may have an answer.
Within Hinduism, the Gay and Lesbian Vaishnava Association provides educational resources about the “third sex” of Vedic literature.
“In Hinduism there is a manifestation of Shiva who is half man, half woman. This figure, Ardhanarishvana, is very important to me as a transgender person. It’s affirming to know one of the greater gods is at times partially a woman. My ishta-deva (personal god) is Ganesha, the remover of obstacles. I also direct prayers to Kali and Durga, goddesses of great power and strength. Hinduism is very important to me because it has such powerful feminine entities. The feminine presented in Hinduism has helped me to better understand and accept the feminine parts of myself. Femininity is placed on equal grounds with masculinity, and they aren’t concepts separate or dichotomous from one another.”
There are a number of LGBTQ Buddhist Sanghas throughout the United States, as well as the International Transgender Buddhist Sangha. In Buddhist traditions, the image of Mother Quan Yin or Kwan Yin has been claimed by many as a trans deity. Quan Yin, who is the bodhisattva for justice, mercy, and compassion, is honored in some places in East Asia as female and in other places as male, with both representations respected as equals.
“As a Buddhist, I find that in my struggle with being transgender I am accepting things as they are and not struggling with big existential questions of why. In a way my spirituality isn’t muddying the waters of my transition with other issues, it’s clarifying it.”
There are also a number of spiritual and activist communities throughout the United States, such as Cauldron Farm and various Radical Faerie communities, that are either run by trans people or have trans people as active parts of their communities and histories.
“I think my spirituality (Paganism) has helped me to discover and embrace my sexuality and my gender identity, since it encourages free thinking and self-examination. Most Pagans I’ve met are very accepting of difference, and it’s generally thought that there isn’t any one ‘right’ way to live one’s life—therefore everyone has to find their own specific path in each lifetime.”
“I am Wiccan. . .. I pray to Aphrodite, Cybele and the Hearth Mother regularly for the day when all I can see in the mirror is a woman.”
FAERIE DESTINY
Chelsea Goodwin, who with her partner Rusty Mae Moore, ran Transy House in Park Slope, Brooklyn, is currently the manager of Pine Hill Books and the hostess of In Goth We Trust on WIOX Radio Roxbury, 91.3 FM.
My involvement with the current generation of Radical Faeries began in 2010, when Jamie Roberts and I were involved in creating The Theatre of Transgression. It was through this endeavor that I met Blaise and Mila Roo. Blaise Bonfire (his Faerie name) is a brilliant costume designer, actor, ftm, and kink activist, and extremely active with Camp Destiny. Located on the side of a mountain near Chester, Vermont, Camp Destiny is a Radical Faerie space with a beautiful kitchen, a solar-powered shower, and some of the most picturesque countryside in New England. Mila Roo (also known simply as Roo) is a trans woman who among other things is a brilliant physicist, actress, and former stage tech for Goth/Steampunk musical legend Voltaire.
Blaise and Milla encouraged me to come to Camp Destiny for Llamas (a midsummer festival and one of the major pagan holidays celebrated by Radical Faeries). Llamas for the Radical Faeries culminates with the burning of a Wicker Man named “Cornholio.” Another highlight of Llamas in that year (2010) was a production of Pinnochio performed out in the woods with scenery draped over trees, light provided by candles and a bonfire, and elaborate glittery costumes.
That year Milla and I were the only trans women at Llamas, unless one counts the brilliant drag performers Verucca la’Pirannha and Miles DeNiro. There were several trans men besides Blaise in attendance. The wonderful thing about that weekend was the extreme kindness with which everyone treated me, with no awkwardness whatsoever. I became known as a bit of a Tarot reader and made some very, very good friends.
This past summer, Blaise and his “master” Scout organized a Radical Faerie kink weekend at Camp Destiny. It was the first event in which trans identified people outnumbered people who identify as gay men. While I understand that there was a lot of discussion behind the scenes, the event went very smoothly and was very, very warm and friendly (in a black leather whips and chains sort of way, of course).
For whatever reason, Radical Faeries have come to a place of openness to multiple genders and sexualities and multiple ways of being that is a refreshing contrast to the angst and battle that have gone on with womyn’s music festivals and similar events. Founded originally by Harry Hay as a space for gay identified men with an interest in the back to the land aspect of the hippie movement, as well as Wiccan-based paganism, Radical Faeries always had an element of pagan spirituality, a spirit of openness and tolerance, and a sex-positive attitude. With their multicolored beards, elaborate makeup, frilly dresses, and brightly painted butterfly wings, the Faeries have also always been gender transgressive, emphasizing the need for men in general to develop their softer, more nurturing side. Since then, the opening up to people of all genders and to diverse approaches to sexuality has served only to deepen Faerie spirituality.
SPIRITUAL BUT NOT RELIGIOUS
Many of us experience a disconnect with the institutional, corporate, or political structures of our traditions and choose to connect only with their spiritual aspects—the deeper truths and practices that open the door for more personal or mystical experiences of the divine—identifying as “spiritual but not religious.” For many of us, religious institutions are too confining or limiting. We desire to ask questions and find alternative ways to connect with the divine or that which is greater than ourselves.
“I am spiritual. I believe in the Earth. I believe in natural variation. I believe in humanity. I believe in a universally binding force of good and evil. I do not believe in a higher god. Maybe an architect. But not a man. My religious view has been shaped alongside my gender identity.”
“I am extremely spiritual, and it is that spiritual aspect of myself that is the more important identity for me. I feel that my gender presentation is a reflection of my spiritual self, which is non-gendered.”
“I’m very spiritual, but I was always of the belief that we basically have no idea what’s true, and all sorts of things could be and we just don’t know. I don’t think any religion has the answers, really. I just base things off my experiences and understanding. Spirituality is the one area that really hasn’t given me issues with being trans.”
Because many mainstream religious groups uphold heterosexuality and cisgender identity as ideal or as the only “acceptable” or “normal” way of living and being, many of us have reconciled our gender identity and religious identity by adopting beliefs and practices that may be grounded in a particular tradition but free of regulatory “do’s and don’ts.” For some of us, it is the experience of the divine or sacred that is central, not strict doctrines that confine the holy to just one thing. Spiritual practitioners are often open to many different traditions or belief systems, adopting a universal approach to the sacred that affirms both/and rather than either/or. A both/and approach may be grounded in our trans experiences of gender identity and expression.
By not focusing on rules and regulations as central to our faith, we are free to connect with our spirits, with our essential or core truths, and with rituals that are life-giving rather than marginalizing or restricting. Some of us find that this can help in healing after experiences of judgment or condemnation we have experienced in mainstream religious groups. For some, this journey away from tradition results from a hurtful experience, while for others it is a personal decision that reflects our interests, comfort, idea of divinity, or desire to be part of a community that holds us in our brokenness and wholeness.
“I went spiritual when I transitioned! Before life felt meaningless, but now I feel life can be whatever I want it to be.”
“I was raised in a religious household, but we believed as strongly in doing good as in a god. That’s pretty much how I still feel. I celebrate seasonal holidays, but not too religiously. I love hymn singing and wish my voice was at least an alto instead of tenor, and am going to try voice therapy to be able to sing as myself. Despite being a scientist and an atheist, I think of myself as spiritual in that there is more than the material world to life.”
RITUALS
As human beings, we create rituals or practices to celebrate and commemorate different aspects or moments of our journey through life. Through these practices we are able to meet others, carry out social activities, and celebrate life’s happenings. Rituals allow us to set apart as special a particular moment or rite of passage.
Some rituals are held within a communal gathering at a temple, church, or synagogue, while others take place within the private sanctuary of our bedrooms, an outdoor hike, or even our office cubicle. Creating and performing rituals allows us to invite the sacred and divine into our space and our life. For some people these practices are reminders of how to uphold values or moral principles throughout the day. For others they are opportunities to connect with another person or people in a deeper and more intimate way. Rituals create opportunities to lift up, support, protect, celebrate, mourn, and claim both divine and communal affirmations.
Transition can be expanded beyond its clinical, medical, or social understandings in order to engage and describe our spiritual journeys of living as our authentic selves. To transition is more than surgery or medical treatment—it is the ongoing journey of honoring and expressing our gender integrity and wholeness. As we transition, there are rituals that can be practiced, either individually or in communities, to mark specific events or rites of passage.
Renaming or Rebaptism
For many individuals and within various traditions, naming is a significant and powerful event. Naming sets someone or something apart from everyone or everything else. For many of us, it is an important step to have a ceremony of renaming to affirm our personhood by uniting our bodies with our minds and spirits.
Naming ceremonies can be as simple as writing our name down on a piece of paper or as formal as an official baptism or rebaptism. Naming marks the letting go of what was in order to embrace who we are (and who we have always been). Naming ceremonies serve as an opportunity for us to be welcomed as a member of a group and have our personhood in its wholeness affirmed and celebrated. For many trans people, communal rituals may be one of the few places of safety and acceptance in our lives. Witnessing and being present at a baptism or name-changing ceremony is one way a community can demonstrate their solidarity with a trans person and their family.
“I had a naming ceremony when I came out as transgender.”
“I plan on being baptized with my chosen name after it becomes ‘official.’”
“My partner came out to her rabbi, the assistant rabbi, the president of the congregation, and our cantor. . . The cantor said, ‘She’s going to need us to do a naming ceremony!’ [My partner] said, ‘But she has never converted, ’ to which the cantor said, ‘She can do more than one transition.’”
CONNECTING TO MY ANCESTORS
Tebogo Calvin Nkoana is a South African trans man.
When I reached puberty and was around boys more than girls, I realized that my body was developing differently from boys. I wanted to look strong and have my lovely flat chest forever, but my body started developing in a feminine way. That just destroyed me. My parents were aware of my feelings, but they never acknowledged it. Instead, they prepared me for my adolescent stage as a girl. They warned me about the things that could affect my future as a girl. They started teaching me all the things that women are supposed to do, and the roles of women. Some of these expectations were to wear women’s clothing, to take responsibility for the home, to gather with women to discuss community matters (and to be excluded from gatherings of men), to walk and talk in feminine ways, and to defer to men’s wishes.
I hated that period, as I strongly looked at myself as a young man who should be prepared for manhood. At about 14, I started getting sick and spent most of my time in hospitals, but no doctor could tell me what was wrong with me. My family then decided to consult a traditional healer (known as a “sangoma”) to find out what the problem was. According to the traditional consultant, my sickness was a warning that my Ancestors were calling me to practice traditional herbal healing. When my parents investigated more, they discovered that the Ancestor who was calling me was a male person. They were very shocked to hear this, since most often the Calling comes to a male from a male Ancestor and to a female from a female Ancestor. They were surprised since I was still so young. It is believed that being Called by the Ancestors means that the one who is Called continues that Ancestor’s life. My parents started to accept and respect my desire to represent myself as male. Since that day they have respected and supported me. Neighbors became very curious to know how my family dealt with my gender identity, because it was surprising to them to see me and my family getting along well.
My mother told them: “He inherited it from his great grandfather.” The people in my area became convinced when they heard the Ancestor stories my mother shared. They started to understand my situation and started to respect me without any hesitation. Since then, I’ve been living freely and I’ve been able to express my masculinity. I’ve also been treated like any other man in our community. African culture helped me to escape the stereotypes and the discrimination in my community. My treatment was different from other FTM transgendered people, thanks to my having a Calling by a male Ancestor.
Everyday Rituals
Everyday practices such as taking a hormone regimen, binding our chests, or putting on makeup can become profound acts of self-care, affirmation, and resilience. Though to some these may seem mundane or secular, these simple everyday acts can become powerful rituals commemorating our ownership of our own lives, bodies, and souls. With them, we are taking pride in ourselves and embracing the journey we have embarked on, with its ups and downs. From the perspective of ritualization, everyday life becomes a journey of co-creation with the universe or God, upholding the idea that creation is a dynamic, ongoing process we are invited to be in solidarity with as signs of our inner and outer resilience.
“The rituals I have involve getting in drag . . . The strapping of my breasts. . . Lighting a cigarette once I come on stage . . . Applying a layer of foundation (I *never* wear foundation as a girl).”
“I am very much an atheist, but I’ve found the process of binding my chest has become almost spiritual. . . It’s like a healing process and even though I’m physically hurting my body, I know I’m getting a step closer to becoming the real me, and it’s a great feeling.”
“I’m not religious or spiritual at all—the closest thing to ritual is getting ready for a drag show and getting ‘all the way’ into a ‘fully masculine’ persona for the stage.”
“Every Friday night, I take a bubble bath, light a candle, and shave those parts I wasn’t taught to shave as a boy. As I soak, I remember who I am and where I have come from and that I have been true to myself.”
Prayers, Mantras, and Self-Affirmations
Sadly, many of us have suffered discrimination and marginalization within church and social circles that do not affirm or recognize our dignity, worth, or personhood. To counter these harmful narratives, some of us find power in regularly and actively reminding ourselves of our self-worth, beauty, significance to others, and amazing uniqueness.
Some of us make self-affirming statements facing a mirror, while others recite mantras and prayers shared through the use of malas, rosaries, or communal creeds that affirm the worth and dignity of all people. These practices can be ways of reconnecting with ourselves and connecting ourselves to a greater, shared community. They are all acts of remembering and honoring the complex, quirky, and wonderful beings we are.
“I am a lifelong atheist, with no belief in anything that does not really exist in a way that can be at least detected in people’s minds. . . Still, once knowing that I was trans felt real to me, I’ve been affirming to myself in the mirror that I am a beautiful woman, even as my face grows hair.”
EMBRACING OUR SPIRITUAL SELVES DURING TRANSITION
Ja’briel Walthour is a transgender advocate, community organizer, and author residing in Hinesville, Georgia. She currently works with special needs students and has penned a children’s book series which is loosely based on her experience growing up black and transgender in the South. She was included on the inaugural “Trans 100 List” and has also written for Ebony.com, Elixher.com, GLAAD, and the Huffington Post.
Transitioning is often a scary and sometimes frightening experience. While charting the waters of change, many of us may become overwhelmed with the challenges of embracing our authentic selves. Furthermore, the constraints of organized religion may lead some to abandon and disregard a personal desire to feed our spiritual being. Too often, our spirit is left malnourished, starved for manna and sustenance. Nevertheless, there are several ways we can stave off apathy of the deprived soul. Here are a few tips to support the foundation of your spirit:
1. Meditate. Never underestimate the power of being alone with your thoughts while transitioning. Ten or fifteen minutes of daily relaxation, void of television, cell phones, and the Internet can rejuvenate your soul and replenish lost energy.
2. Seek purpose. It is imperative to find your passion(s) during transition. One of the most unnerving experiences of transitioning is the lack of belonging and the fear of the unknown.
3. Actively pray. Sincere communication with a sovereign and divine source of inspiration can transform a dull, empty religious experience into a rich and fulfilling spiritual life. Open and honest prayer allows you to express gratitude, vent frustrations, and release your cares to the Universe.
4. Foster faith. A vital step to securing a healthy, spiritual existence upon transition includes the act of believing in your mission and also remaining optimistic during every aspect of your journey. Faith-building takes work, which may include adopting a clear and positive vision, utilizing resources such as daily devotionals or self-help manuals, and simply consulting a trusted friend or confidant for support.
5. Receive the promise. Along the way, you will find that transitioning requires mustering courage and resilience. However, you should keep in mind the ultimate goal and reward of nurturing your soul. Your peace, happiness, and well-being are just a few of the benefits you will receive on your quest for spiritual enlightenment.
Meditation
Many of us have meditative or mindfulness practices that ground us in our everyday lives and provide us with a sense of connection to ourselves and to the world. These may be as simple as exercises that focus our breathing or that encourage us to pay attention to the details of the spaces around us. Some of us have extensive experience with meditation and spend time at retreats or put aside time each day to meditate.
“As part of the process to arrive at my gender and my current definition of my state, I have used meditation and visualization so that I may find the strength within me to do what must be done to be true to myself.”
“My gender identity and sexed body-mind relation feels even more natural and authentic when I do yoga or meditate.”
TRANSFORMATIVE THEOLOGY: CONTRIBUTIONS FROM THE TRANS COMMUNITY
Many religious communities do not recognize or respect a dynamic, expansive approach to gender identity and expression, but trans activists have begun to challenge these barriers. Theologians and religious professionals have started to develop, redefine, and deconstruct religious traditions, practices, teachings, and devotions in ways that are affirming and celebratory not only for trans people but for all people.
Many of us have received religious messages that claim that our understanding of body and gender is wrong, that we are inherently disordered and no procedure can cure us. Trans religious approaches can undo the false beliefs and erroneous messages that our bodies are evil or not good enough. These approaches offer an invitation and challenge to embrace who we are as beings living in wholeness and integrity.
“I was able to reconcile [my spirituality] with my identity by really digging down and finding out what my religion and my gender each really meant deep down, and I think I came out stronger in both regards as a result. . .”
By reclaiming our rights, body, and spirit, a trans religious voice is emerging that proclaims that our lives, experiences, joys, and challenges are sacred texts in which the divine speaks—trans people theologizing about the trans experience on our own terms and with our own voices.
Reimagining God
Many people of Judeo-Christian faith wrestle with questions about the image of God. What does it mean to be created in the image of God if the images shared by the dominant culture do not look like me? Does this mean that my body and who I am as a person are somehow less than or inherently defective? Not having spaces or images in which our personhood and body are affirmed can lead to feelings of isolation, self-hatred, and destructive behaviors. Due to the efforts of feminist and LGBTQ religious leaders as well as religious leaders of color, many spiritual movements have rediscovered the divine feminine and images of the sacred of various genders—inclusive representations that reflect a multicultural, multigendered, and multibodied God and world.
As trans theologian Justin Tanis explains in his book Trans-Gendered: Theology, Ministry, and Communities of Faith, “Transgender people.. . have a unique opportunity to witness to the gender of God.. . We who embody more than one gender within our lifetimes have learned something about our ability to hold both of these spaces within one body.. . If we, as human beings, can do it, surely God can do it” (pp. 134–135). By being able to engage an image of the sacred that transcends gender or inhabits a space in-between, many of us have been able to find ourselves in the divine and embrace the divine within ourselves.
“I find incredible peace from my spiritual beliefs and the knowledge that God loves me and made me just as I am—a trans woman.”
A broader understanding of the gender of God and the divine does not threaten or diminish masculinity or femininity as conservative religious scholars fear. Rather, it opens up our ability to approach the divine and the holy as a lover, comforter, mother, creator, grandparent, or protector. Honoring these aspects or images of the sacred is not new—they are upheld within certain sects of Christianity and Judaism as well as pagan and goddess-centered traditions.
In his book, Tanis cites Jann Aldredge-Clanton, who states that “men, as well as women, benefit from gender inclusive images of God.. . equality of male and female, in heaven and on earth, does not lower the self-esteem of men [or women].. . in fact, males [and females] can feel new kinds of power through androgynous concepts of God and humanity” (Tanis, 2003, p. 135). This opening up of gender and of the divine recognizes that just as human beings cannot be reduced to just one aspect of who they are, the sacred cannot be limited or boxed in to a single aspect, image, trait, or manifestation.
The trans experience of religion is a prophetic and poignant reminder that, if faith communities uphold the belief that the divine is so awesome that our ability to comprehend it fully is limited, then representations of the sacred are beyond our limited categories of gender and identity. The trans faith experience is an invitation to engage and grapple with multiple, diverse, inclusive images and aspects of the sacred. By doing this, we, as individuals and communities, are able to affirm that our complex selves and bodies are also holy and cannot be limited by traditional understandings of gender, identity, and expression. We are reminders of human diversity, inviting and challenging others to realize the need for language and imagery of the holy that is as diverse as we are. To put it simply, “don’t box God in and don’t box me in!”
Sacred Texts and Holy Heroes
More and more religious scholarship by trans and trans-affirming scholars is revisiting sacred texts—such as the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and the Holy Qu’ran—in order to discover, and often rediscover, narratives that affirm the lives of trans people.
Our understanding of gender in the 21st century is very different from concepts of gender and sexuality that existed thousands of years ago when many of these documents were written. While honoring these differences, many theologians and religious scholars have interpreted texts in a trans-positive light, balancing historical context with messages of liberation and transformation. Some scholars, such as Professor Patrick Cheng (2011), describe their work as “queering” religious studies—in other words, interpreting and studying these texts in ways that push us to embrace transgressive or challenging ideas, beyond society’s limited or traditional expectations of sexuality and gender.
For example, Judeo-Christian readers might ask: If God created both male and female in God’s image, does this mean that God is a transgender or intersex entity? Though concrete answers are perhaps not possible, these questions open the door for healing and holistic interpretations and conversations with ourselves, with the sacred, and with others.
By taking this kind of approach to sacred texts, we can find characters whose lives transgressed or challenged the gender expectations of their time, without needing to know their gender self-identification. It is not possible to know how prophets, saints, ancestors, or deities identify. But we can find liberating meaning in their actions and words.
For many religious and spiritual traditions, importance is given to the presence of ancestors, saints, intercessors, and intermediaries—figures we look to for inspiration and as examples to be followed. By revisiting histories, sacred stories, and traditions, we can lift up individuals who were radical transgressors of social and gender norms—individuals who disrupted gender and offered alternative ways to express our faith and relationship with the divine. We can rediscover a trans presence that is often not foreign to a tradition but is very much integral to a religion’s teachings, devotions, experiences of God, and even critical to the initial establishment or formation of a religious community.
How did the Buddha, Deborah in the Book of Judges, or Jesus in the Gospels transgress gender norms in ways that are affirming of trans people today? Often the religious figures we venerate were countercultural revolutionaries who strove to be in solidarity with the oppressed and marginalized peoples of their day, preaching and living inclusive and alternative ways of viewing religion and community—a spirit which can be tapped into today to affirm trans people.
We do not have to look far for trans-affirming messages—often we just have to take another look at tradition and uncover a presence that has always been there but for various reasons has been neglected or hidden. By reclaiming and remembering the past, trans religious people have been able to make sure that traditions, stories, and history are inclusive and complete—a practice that honors the prophetic voices and radical lives of all those from yesterday and better helps us to celebrate diversity today, tomorrow, and always.
Trans Religious Leaders
Though many religious traditions bar trans people from pursuing ordination or consecration as spiritual leaders, there are several groups that are beginning to affirm those of us who are called to ministry. Religious leaders who identify as trans reflect a diversity of traditions and callings. Such prophetic voices include Rev. Malcolm Himschoot (United Church of Christ), Rev. Dr. Justin Edward Tanis (Metropolitan Community Church/Unitarian Universalist Association), Rev. Moshay Moses (Metropolitan Community Church), Rev. Cameron Partridge (Episcopal Church USA), Rabbi Elliot Rose Kukla, Rabbi Reuben Zellman, Patricia Kevena Fili (Wiccan/Pagan), Rev. Louis Mitchell, Angel Collie (Metropolitan Community Church), Rev. Shannon “Shay” T. L. Kearn (North American Old Catholic Church), and Dr. Virginia Ramey Mollenkott (Trans-Religious Christian). Their ministries are as diverse as they are and include university chaplaincy, pastoral work within hospices, serving congregations as pastors, developing social policy within nonprofits, and university research (and for some, combinations of more than one of these). Trans people in ministry are not only ministering to other trans people and their families but are serving whole communities.
CONCLUSION
Our bodies, experiences, and lives as trans people reveal a richness and diversity of religious expression—an expression that also reflects the diversity of our human experience of journeying and transitioning into wholeness. A trans religious approach invites us to take another look at practices within our traditions in order to embrace concepts, convictions, definitions, redefinitions, and ways of being that are outside the norm—not with fear, but with excitement and awe.
Faith and spirituality grounded in trans experiences and narratives boldly proclaim that all people have the human and sacred right to choose how we care for, dress, decorate, cover and uncover, craft, and tweak our bodies as we seek to be at home with ourselves and within ourselves.
REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING
Chattin, E. L. (2012). I AM: A journey into the realm of gender variance: A poem written for the 11th annual transgender day of remembrance (remembering our dead), November 20, 2009. In V. Miller (Ed.) Reflections (MCC theologies: Trans). Retrieved December 2013, from http://www.opendoormcc.com/pastor_files/12_0520_reflections.pdf
Cheng, P. (2011). Radical love: An introduction to queer theology. New York, NY: Seabury Books.
Glaser, C. (Ed.). (2008). Gender identity & our faith communities: A congregational guide for transgender advocacy. Human Rights Campaign Foundation. Retrieved December 2013, from http://www.hrc.org/files/assets/resources/Gender-Identity-and-our-Faith-Communities_2008-12.pdf
Martinez, M., & Collie, A. (UFMCC Transgender Resource Team). (2005). Trans etiquette: Welcoming transgender communities to MCC. Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches. Retrieved December 2013, from http://www.presbyterianwelcome.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/transetiquette.pdf
Mollenkott, V. R. (2001). Omnigender: A trans-religious approach. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim Press.
Tanis, J. E. (2003). Trans-gendered: Theology, ministry, and communities of faith. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim Press.
