From Conservative Evangelical to Trans-Affirming

I don’t remember the first time I heard the word “transgender.” I do remember being taught that it was wrong, disordered, even perverted. I grew up in an evangelical home. I attended an evangelical megachurch and my family subscribed to quite a few evangelical magazines, including some that focused on politics and culture wars issues. I was homeschooled, which created a sort of bubble that filtered the information I had access to. When I attended a secular university this changed, and my views began changing in reaction to new information. I don’t remember changing my position on transgender issues specifically, probably because this change was part of a series of far larger changes.

In the evangelical culture of my youth, gender is incredibly important. What is between your legs determines your role in life—your role in marriage and family, church and community. If you have male genitalia, you will be expected to lead in marriage, to be the primary breadwinner for your family, and to take positions of authority in church. If you have female genitalia, you will be expected to submit to your husband, to be the primary nurturer and caregiver for your family, and to take subordinate positions in church. A woman could not be a church elder, but she could run the church nursery. I really cannot overemphasize how much gender matters in a conservative evangelical community like that of my youth. It affects everything.

On some level, evangelical opposition to gay and transgender rights is rooted in a strong belief in a rigid set of gender roles. A woman cannot marry a woman, because then who would lead and who would submit? Gender determines your role in life; it is God who assigns our gender, and we who obey his dictates. It’s a rigid world with a carefully curated hierarchy, a world where the gender you are assigned at birth carefully circumscribes your options and acceptable behavior.

As a girl, that the gender roles I was being taught didn’t fit me. I have always been headstrong and opinionated, and in evangelical circles those are not traits a woman or girl-child is supposed to have. As a child, I had a very hard time being ladylike. I was frequently reprimanded, sometimes with words and sometimes with looks of silent disapproval. I was enrolled in ballet to fix me. And I tried—very, very hard—to be ladylike, to be graceful, to be what I believed my gender dictated I must be. Still, it didn’t work. t was told that it would be hard for me to get a husband, because of my temperament—would I be able to submit to a husband, to fulfill my role in life as a woman, the role God had assigned me?

The uneasy fit of these gender roles ultimately played a large role in my journey away from my evangelical upbringing. I realized I couldn’t force myself into a mold that wouldn’t fit, and began living my life more authentically. Feminism spoke to me deeply, and helped me understand my frustrations. I rejected rigid gender roles and embraced equality and egalitarian relationships. My life changed, dramatically, as I realized I could forge my own patterns. Sure, mainstream society is still very gendered, but it’s gendered in ways that are more open, ways that come with multiple languages to play with and numerous pallets of color for painting in. I could choose for myself who I was, and shape my own identity and image.

Being a woman didn’t determine who I was; I determined what being a woman meant.

I am not transgender, and have never experienced gender dysphoria. Yet by the time trans issues hit my radar, I had given up the rigidity of my gendered evangelical childhood to embrace choice and self expression. I became an ardent supporter of marriage equality. I realized one day, after engaging in countless internet debates over whether people were “born” gay or whether being gay was a choice, that it didn’t really matter which was the case. After all, I supported gay rights not because gay people were born that way and couldn’t help it but rather because there’s no excuse for denying a person their rights when those rights don’t infringe on the rights of anyone else. This shift in perspective—this openness to variation and this rejection of rigidity—shaped my new understanding of trans people and my support for trans rights.

I still remember the first time I knowingly had an in-real-life encounter with a trans person. It was fellow blogger Melissa‘s wife, Haley. I met her before she transitioned, while they were traveling through my state and while her transgender identity was still under wraps, but meeting her and hearing her story—it helped me put a face to an issue that had been more theoretical than personal, especially given how similar Haley’s conservative evangelical background was to my own. I was actually the first person Melissa and Haley told—I was a sort of test case, someone they felt they could risk telling, to gauge the reaction they might get. Haley’s story struck me particularly strongly, given that her upbringing had been so similar to mine, and I watched nervously as she and Melissa came out to their parents and extended families, moved to another city, and created a new life for themselves.

Today, I have numerous trans friends. Each story is unique. I watch their struggles and I do what I can to be there for them, which, really, is simply what should be expected of a friend. We live in a world where being trans-affirming is sometimes treated as a special feat that should earn praise or accolades, but in fact treating trans people with respect and dignity is the bare minimum that should be expected of everyone. It must be exhausting, sometimes, to watch people praised for deciding not to oppose your very existence. Similarly, when we talk about what this group or that group has “taught” us we risk tokenizing them, treating them as something that exists for our benefit. It’s not that we should never talk about “what we’ve learned” from a given minority group, but rather that we need to remember that they don’t exist for our benefit, to teach us things. They simply exist, like you and I.

Sometimes I think about where I might be today if I hadn’t cast off the rigid gender ideology I was taught in the evangelical community of my youth. Perhaps if the strict gender roles of my childhood hadn’t felt so ill-fitting to me, I might still be judging the queer community for transgressing the borders of that rigid ideology. I will forever be grateful that rather than continuing my efforts to fit my square peg in a round hole, I rejected the rigid gender ideology I was taught in favor of greater openness and variety and decided to listen, to consider the experiences of others, and to admit that I didn’t (and still don’t) know everything.

Life is so much better without all those boxes.

Feel free to share various resources on trans issues in the comments. I’d like to encourage individuals who are new to this subject to ask various trans 101 questions they may have, and other commenters to offer answers, provide information, or point them to resources or information if they are willing to do so. I do not want trans people in the comment section to feel individually (or collectively) responsible for answering questions others may have about their existence. Similarly, while asking questions is fine, arguing against trans rights or arguing that trans people are a perversion will not be permitted.