Jerseygirl, JESUS
A few days ago, I got an email from another mom. Now, moms — we have a special language. It can cross the air with just the lock of our eyes. The mama-bear love we have for our kids is palpable, and when we’re in a room together, we can practically feel it emanating from each other, run our fingers through it the way we might mindlessly play with the sand when we’re sitting on a beach. Even when we’ve never met, our souls have their own vocabulary, our hearts a vernacular of their very own.
This mom had a very special message. She had something her heart wanted to say, and she needed a safe place to say it. I’m happy that she thought I would be a safe haven for her. Because you see, her child is gender non-conforming.
I knew I’d write about her letter (with her permission, of course, which she gave) eventually, but I didn’t think it would be so soon. But then last night I was scrolling through Facebook — despite the minefield THAT platform has become lately — and one of my friends posted a congratulatory message to HIS friend, Glennon Doyle Melton, after she announced that she’s in love with a woman.
And I thought — whoa. Then I thought, “Wow! That’s awesome. I wish them luck!” And then I thought, “Oh, shit*. Here it all comes.”
Meaning the hate.
The hate that will get piled on her head. Heaped up on her and Abby, big shovels full of it, fueling the hatefires. And now that we’ve got the self-proclaimed leader of the alt-right as a key adviser to the President-Elect, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be even worse.
And I think, what is my place in all of this?
I know I am a warrior. Mine is the heart of an activist. I am the one who speaks up, who points out, who says, “Hold up there, Skippy, that was out of line.” And it’s exhausting.
It’s exhausting because when I’m trying to tell people they are hurting me, us, when I’m trying to say “Hey, you’re marginalizing me, you’re making me less than,” some of you tell me, “Lighten up,” or “No I’m not,” or “You’re being divisive.” And of course I don’t want to be divisive, but I can’t help but think that some people are okay with everything as long as I just stay quiet. And every time you say, “Lighten up,” or “No I’m not,” or “You’re being divisive,” it’s just another way to silence me, to tell me to stop pointing out what I feel is injustice.
Last night, I had the opportunity to talk to a man who’d made a comment. This is a good man, and I know his heart is good and right. But he made this comment without realizing, perhaps, the effect it had on my daughter, to whom it had been directed. I went to him in private, and I said, “May I have a hard conversation with you?” He said yes. I explained my position. And he said words that were music to my ears.
He said, “Can you explain that a little bit more?”
He didn’t try to deny it. He didn’t tell me I was being an asshole or that I should lighten up. He didn’t try to explain how I should experience my experience. He listened. He told me what he had been trying to do (and I listened). And then he asked me, “What would you have preferred? What should I have said in that moment?” And I told him, and he got it, and I said thank you, and it was over.
Not just over — I feel like he and I kind of bonded. I felt heard. He learned something. Because he didn’t minimize my experience, I didn’t get angry. Because I was calm and kind, he didn’t get defensive. It was the perfect conflict management, and I thought, if only we could do this on Facebook.
But what will happen on Facebook instead — and I can fall into this trap, too, as I try to speak out against injustice — is a whole lot of yelling and denial of the other person’s voice.
Which brings me to the mom of the transgender kid.
When I realized my voice might have a tiny little platform here on Patheos, I quietly committed to use that platform to give voice to the marginalized. You may remember the post I wrote when a transgender person wrote to me, and I shared her words here on this blog.
Well, this mom — a mom you guys. With a young child! — wrote an open letter to Christians, and it’s an important letter that I hope you’ll hear. I hope, like the man I spoke to last night, that you’ll open your heart to this hard conversation. Pull up a chair. Have a cup of coffee with us. Let’s listen to the hard words without defense or argument. Let’s just let them flow over us in love and notice our discomfort. Let us honor her personhood and in the process honor that of her child.
Read on to hear the words of a transgender kid’s mom.
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