It’s my birthday month! On September 27 I will be 44 (proof of my age is that I have questioned this number and done the math several times). This month, I am hoping to raise $10,000 for Our Collective Becoming. OCB’s vision is “To bring forth other possible worlds—alternatives to the current systems of collapse and despair—by cultivating hope, belonging, and shared life in the midst of global and interpersonal grief.”

I am one of the organization’s Living Projects. This means that instead of being centered around a gathering place like a home, farm, or table, this project is centered around me and my family and the work I do. The community I work to build isn’t just local — although I hope that is a part of it — but also seeks to build communities of support for marginalized people in the United States.

Supporting OCB in my name means that I am able to offer one-on-one education to parents of gender nonconforming kids, trans and queer education pieces, resources for religious congregations, and stories of exile to all who will benefit, regardless of financial status. The United States has increasingly become a place of harm for trans and queer people. I seek to help move allies to accomplices in order to build a world where we are all seen and valued.

Will you help? The goal for my birthday month is $10,000, which I recognize is incredibly ambitious. You can help in multiple ways:

• Become a regular monthly donor

• Give a one-time gift as a birthday gift

• Invite me to speak, preach, or lead a workshop (virtually) at your organization/congregation

• Hire me as a consultant

• Spread the word

Gifts of any size are so appreciated!

To give, visit https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give. Put my name in the “messages” box. You can contact me at jenniferharrisdault@gmail.com or reach out through my Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/JenniferHarrisDault

Blessed are the Grieving,
The Aching, The Overwhelmed.
Blessed are those whose heart is numb
But longs to feel something, anything

Blessed are the Hungry
The ones who are unsure of what is safe to eat
Or whether they can afford what is safe to eat
Or anything at all

Blessed are those priced out of healthcare,
Those who are denied access for political gain,
Those who choose between health and home,
Those whose private info is compromised

Blessed are those who don’t recognize the world around them
Who yearn for kindness,
Compassion, Empathy
And instead find cruelty

Blessed are you hoping against hope
Building again and anew
The world you wish for
Over and over . . . and over

Blessed are you huddled at home
Unable to rally
You who have given up
If only for the moment

Your cries are not in vain.
May you find justice
And hold onto it with everything you have
For you, for your neighbor, for the world

You matter.
You have always mattered
You deserve to be protected and cared for
You deserve to be seen and heard.

And so may you be seen here.
May you be heard here.
May we cry out together in beautiful imperfection with everything we have
And find that together, it is enough.

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

I get it. As parents, we want all of the information. Something as big as gender feels like something we need to have figured out NOW. How do we parent if we aren’t even confident what gender our child is?

As it turns out, the only person who can tell you your child’s gender is your child. And it might not be something they know right away. I know the anxiety that can come from liminal space — friends, liminal space is hard for me, and I’m not talking about gender, but life in general. I am bad at waiting and unknowing. I want to jump ahead five steps. Alas. Instead, we are offered a gift; we get to see our children slowly unfurl into who they are. The waiting, the journey is part of the magic.

Does that mean there is nothing you can do? Of course not! The following advice is for every parent, not just those on gender watch (and note: some of you not on gender watch will still have transgender kids — congrats!). As a reminder, none of these things will cause your child to be trans. Education doesn’t cause gender dysphoria. What it does is give language so that kids who are trans are able to express themselves AND know that you are safe to express themselves to.

1 - Don’t gender strangers — you don’t know a stranger’s pronouns unless they are wearing them. Start practicing they/them pronouns and refer to people in gender neutral ways. Do you see the person over there in the green shirt? They dropped this notebook. Can you take it to them? If this isn’t part of your usual language, it will take time and work. Keep at it! Not only can this help keep you from making mistakes about other people’s genders, it helps teach your kids that we can’t tell a person’s gender just by looking at them. It helps break down the boxes of gender roles that are so often way too constrictive.

2 - Read all the picture books! There are so many books for children that showcase a wide variety of experiences. When our kids were little, we’d try to find books with all kinds of experiences at the public library. At the time, our community had a program that helped white parents use books to talk to kids about race and normalize talking about all manner of differences in positive ways . . . so we read books like all manner of skin colors, all manner of cultural experiences, all manner of abilities, and yes, all manner of genders. At the pediatrician’s office was a copy of My Princess Boy, the story of a young boy who loves sparkles and pretty dresses. We read books about kids who were trans, about a nonbinary parent, about pronouns. We used them to have conversations about all of the various ways people can be. Picture books can help with these conversations because the authors have done the work of giving language for you. I recommend books showcasing different experiences because your kid will meet other kids whose lives look like the stories in these books — your child will have an easy connection point to understand. And it gives language for children to process their world. There are lots of lists of books like this. If you want me to share some of my favorites, let me know!

3 - Talk about gender. After reading one of these books, you can have a quick and easy chat. “I’m a (girl/boy/nonbinary person/etc) and I use ____ pronouns. What about you — what words feel best for you? Cool! I’ll use those words. If that ever changes, let me know, and I’ll change the words I use for you.”

4 - Challenge messages about colors/clothes/etc being for a particular gender. People of all genders can like all types of different clothes, colors, toys, hair styles, etc. Someone told you that pink is for girls? How silly! Colors are for everyone!

What if it’s a phase? I’ve seen several stories recently of parents with anxiety because their child who is AMAB (assigned male at birth) is talking about wanting to be a mommy. How do I know if this is just them wanting to be like their mom or a bigger statement? You don’t! But allowing your child to express things is okay. If your child asks you to use other pronouns for them, it is okay if it is a temporary game. We learn things by trying on roles — just like kids play dress up with no intention of becoming an astronaut, mail carrier, princess, fire fighter, mermaid (or maybe with all the intention in the world — but change their mind the following minute/day/year). A phase doesn’t make something less real or less valuable. I’ve been through all manner of phases. I’ve wanted to play different instruments, do different hobbies . . . not all of them lasted. But the sour dough bread and discard baked goods I made during COVID when yeast was impossible to buy were no less tasty and worthwhile because I don’t still bake sourdough. A child trying out identities can help them figure out if it works for them or not. What they will remember is your support along the way.

After reading a book about pronouns, one of my kids asked for certain pronouns and giggled every time I used them. Turns out those pronouns weren’t what actually felt right, they just thought they were fun. So we played the game while it felt fun, then moved on when it wasn’t anymore.

Parents, you’ve got this!

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. Gifts of all sizes are deeply appreciated.

She wasn’t the only person who has said such things. If you have spent time in conservative Christian circles when someone mentions gender, you’ve heard this argument.

Truly, the strange application of this “you’re saying God made a mistake!” argument is something I noted in a Christian ethics paper I wrote in the mid ‘00s when I decided I needed to understand a theology of transness better.

Why is someone being trans implying God made a mistake, but a baby needing kidney surgery (which also happened with my children) not a sign of a mistake? Needing corrective lenses in order to see isn’t a mistake? But being trans? That somehow is seen as a mistake?

When I point this out, I can often hear the eyeroll that comes before, “it is clearly different and you know it!” Friends, I don’t know it. And when I ask, “how is it different?” I never get a response.

Here’s the thing — I don’t believe trans people to be a mistake. I believe God knew that my daughter is trans long before she did. God delights in it. I’ve had friends define transition as being invited into co-creation with God, an image I adore. We all get to help create ourselves, create the world around us. What better way to showcase being made in the Creator’s image than to delight in creating?

“God made a mistake” was never a statement about what I am saying but a reflection of the person making the argument. It is transphobia wrapped up in religious language. It is meant to stop the conversation. It is meant to shame. But it is simply a bad argument with no biblical foundation.

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

Blessed are the Broken
You whose heart has been ripped out
You who are hanging on by one fraying thread
You who feel like letting go

You are sacred
You always have been
Your scars, your shattered edges are part of your story
They are not the whole

You will hope again
You will feel joy
And those broken pieces
Become rainbows in the light

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

And I also knew that I might not be able to remain in the US. I couldn’t exactly launch and run a locally-based project if I was no longer local.

My project shifted. It was no longer about others, but about me and my family — an autoethnography. A look at what it meant to be in this present time, of navigating whether to stay or leave and the hundreds and thousands of decisions and actions that had to be made along the way. It became a story of exile.

I’d hoped it would be boring. An intense look at the situation, an inside-view of the tensions . . . and the decision that we could stay. If you have been around long, you know that isn’t the case. We didn’t stay.

Today, I don’t know the future of my doctorate. A few weeks ago I officially declared a leave of absence. I can’t financially continue. I can’t currently imagine a time when I will be able to. I’m certainly not the first person who has experienced this. People start programs and are forced to leave for all manner of reasons. They decide they no longer want to, life happens and makes it impossible, the intensity of study isn’t practical . . .

I have wanted to finish because I believe the work I am doing is important — if only for my own processing. I need to push my brain in these ways, I need to put language to everything my family is experiencing — that we are watching soooo many experience. I have been afraid that without the structure, without an advisor challenging me, that I won’t create what I know I can. I forget that I know things others don’t, because they haven’t been forced to. I forget that things my family has faced are important for others to hear about. I forget how much of a story I have to tell. I forget how much I need to tell it.

I don’t know whether this story needs to take shape in a different way, or whether I hold out hope for what feels impossible. But on this day when this photo popped up into my memories, it feels necessary to reflect, to feel, to ponder the possibilities.

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

This has meant our passports (and copies!), birth certificates for the kids (apostilled and translated), our marriage certificate (apostilled and translated); for visas I needed bank statements, apostilled (and translated!) certificates of the nonprofit’s initial registration and being in good standing, bank statements, tax documents; I had to get a new copy of my MDiv diploma (you guessed it — apostilled and translated!); once we had our NIEs, we needed those; we needed rental contracts, signed documents with all of our names and ID numbers AND the names and ID numbers of our landlord(s), when we had our registration, we needed that, too; AND we needed Passport-sizes photos of everyone (truly, this is genius — you get your own photos taken at your convenience at a kiosk. This is the photo that will be used on ID cards. You get to be in control of how your photo looks!). Oh, and we also needed a bank receipt showing we’d paid our rent. This is in addition to the various forms that need to be filled out, the various taxes that require their own forms, their own payments, and their own receipts. Some offices want photocopies of everything. Some stare you down if you hand them too many papers at once. Sometimes procedures that you think will require EVERYTHING will want next to nothing at all. And sometimes the exact list of documents listed on the website isn’t adequate. . . like recently when we were told the emailed ATM receipt for our ID tax wasn’t sufficient — it needed to be from a teller with a stamp. The teller rolled her eyes and called that officer “especial.” She wasn’t wrong.

If you read through that entire paragraph about paperwork, you deserve a churro.

Our most recent set of appointments was to be fingerprinted for our ID cards. I managed to snag three appointments that were clearly cancellations (all within a week). The system wouldn’t allow me to make a fourth, so our immigration company scored the final appointment . . . for the end of the month. Thankfully on the third time one of our daughters was hauled to everyone else’s appointments (although, interestingly that was only 3 of the 5 visits that were made for the other 3 of us), the officer took pity on us and allowed her information to be processed, too. In roughly a month we should get to stand in line for hours on end to pick up our cards!

We’ve been told “you’re basically done!” Which, in a way, is true. All the big appointments that are necessary because we are immigrants are done. In reality, I still need to go and get my public health card and then add the rest of the family to my list of dependents to get theirs. Then begin the work of setting up appointments. One of the requirements of my visa is that we all have private health coverage with zero copays/deductibles. Americans — that coverage for all four of us is roughly $3000 (or more exactly, 2,725.91€) for the entire year.

We might almost be out of the paperwork era (for about 2.5 years when we get to reapply)!

Friends, this season has been exhausting. It has come with countless frustrations when the mantra we were told — “expect 3 nos for every yes” — has been more than true. . . when certain documents seemed impossible to obtain . . . when securing appointments felt far more challenging than all the other elements of the move. There have been so many ups and downs — and I know that doesn’t end here. But step by step, poco a poco, we are doing the thing.

Tomorrow our landlord is sending a technician to look at our A/C and figure out why our humidity is hanging out in the 70%s (was roughly 75% most of yesterday — currently 68.1% — progress?). After that, we’ll head out to see the total solar eclipse — an event that will connect us to experienecs in our previous two homes (even if Rochester was totally cloud covered the entire day!).

Despite all of the challenges — the Paperwork Era, the language barrier (we are improving!), the ongoing financial difficulties — I am so thankful we are here.

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

Last week in a social media group I’m in, someone posted an AI-created Scripture intended to show what Jesus would say to trans people. Rightly, many were saddened by the use of AI to do the work that the church should be doing. When I suggested that I was available any time someone needed a blessing from a pastor, several asked for me to share some. Each week I intend to share a new blessing here. You are welcome to use freely with attribution. If you represent an institution that can spare a few dollars, please see the bottom of this post for how you can share. Are you in need of a particular blessing? Please reach out!

Blessed are the exiles
The immigrants
The expats
The refugees

Blessed are you who travel from home
Seeking hope
Yearning for hope
Wondering. if. there. is. hope

Blessed are you whose heart is broken
Yet still makes room for people and places
Still loves with ferocity
Still dreams of an ever-expanding home

You are not forgotten
Instead, you are a beacon
The sign of a new world erupting
Where all shall be free

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

Blessed are the in-between
You who are not day or night
Land or sea
Male or female

But something gloriously other
Both and neither
Like a radiant sunrise
A metamorphosis in flesh

Blessed are you
Created in Their image
Beyond comprehension and holy
So very, very good

I am committed to keeping these resources free and available to anyone who wants or needs them. I need your help to make that possible. If you have the ability to support what I do, I encourage you to make a donation to Our Collective Becoming, the nonprofit I work with. Please put my name (Jennifer Harris Dault) in the messages/comments section. If you are able to make a monthly contribution, that is especially helpful in providing stability. All gifts are deeply appreciated.

I’ll preface this by stating that I am not a doctor. I am a parent raising a transgender child. I am also very involved in study and talking with others — individuals and organizations who live this every day. Nothing I say is intended as medical advice, but as a resource for those hearing political rhetoric and wanting to understand better.

Transition

The first thing to know is that transition is a broad term that means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. There is no medical transition for trans kids before puberty. The starting point for most people of any age is with name and pronouns — this doesn’t always mean change, but determining what works. Perhaps there is a new haircut or wardrobe. For young kids, that is what transition looks like. We call it social transition. Doctors may be involved, but this looks more like a wellness exam; no medication or procedures. Doctors will ask questions, letting kids guide — “what words feel best when someone is talking about you?’ “what do you want your body to look like when you get older?” They may list traits that occur after each type of puberty. They may do a quick check for signs of puberty. And they educate. At our first visit, we learned about the different types of puberty blockers (injections vs implants). We were told what they do, what the side effects are, what follow-up care looks like.

Do they just give puberty blockers to kids of any age? One must have started puberty to go on puberty blockers. This is for several reasons. One - before puberty begins, there is nothing to block. You don’t need to pause something that isn’t happening. Two - doctors want to make sure the body goes into puberty. If that process doesn’t start, doctors will want to explore underlying health causes to find out why.

Aren’t these drugs experimental and harmful? No! These are the same medications that are used for precocious puberty (puberty that begins way too early) and for patients with a cancer that feeds on hormones. They have been used safely and effectively for decades.

If while on blockers, a teen decides that they want puberty to resume, they are taken off blockers and puberty begins again. Blockers are 100% reversible. A child will not have to bring this up on their own — there are check-ins throughout the entire process. Doctors are not presuming a particular path but listening to their patients.

Why not just wait until they are 18? While puberty blockers are 100% reversible, puberty is not. Testosterone lowers the voice and changes facial features, among other things. Estrogen causes breast growth. Going on hormones causes a lot of changes to the body, but these particular changes cannot be undone by hormones. For a large number of trans kids, these changes cause painful dysphoria that negatively impacts mental health. Puberty leading to a body that doesn’t match a person’s identity can also lead to bullying. And to be clear, I’m really understating all of this.

Puberty blockers are given to buy time, to allow that pause of puberty to give the opportunity to truly understand what the best course of action is. Kids work with therapists who help them explore and doctors who help them learn about the options and what they mean.

Youth who begin blockers at the Tanner stage 2 (the Tanner scale is a 5-stage system doctors use to determine where someone is in puberty. Tanner 1 is no signs of puberty; Tanner 5 is completed puberty) of puberty will be on them for years before any further medical transition occurs. I do want to state that while this is built in to intentionally slow down the medical transition process and give that pause for thorough exploration, this is also hard for those who have known who they are for years before puberty. Trans kids are just as excited to grow up as their cisgender peers. While nobody wants the unpleasant parts of puberty (seriously — zits and body odor? No thanks!), they absolutely want to look more grown up. Boys want to see that peach fuzz, girls want curves1. Pausing puberty and waiting years for hormone therapy means that a trans kid experiences puberty well after their peers. I mention this here not because I’m advocating for that to change, but because their perspective is often missing from these conversations.

WPATH (World Professional Association for Transgender Health) standards of care suggest that hormone therapy can be initiated around 16 years old. Starting earlier may be considered on a case-by-case basis. Like with puberty blockers, hormones are only given after evaluating the desires of the patient.

Gender confirmation surgeries would take place after reaching age 18. Do some surgeries take place before this? Yes. Much more often in the case of those who do not have access to puberty blockers. Trans boys with severe dysphoria may be approved for top surgery (surgery to masculinize the chest) earlier if it is determined to be important for their health. This is why blanket bans on treatments before a certain age can be so problematic — not because everyone should be able to receive a treatment at any age, but because occasionally an individual should.

Standards of Care

We have standards of care for a reason. Like in other areas of medicine, those standards are put into place based on peer-reviewed studies and analysis. They are updated as we learn more. The standards always have exceptions because bodies are not machines. What works for most does not work for all. A person’s individual medical history may require changes. Deviations from the standard of care require well-documented reasoning. If a teen and their care team decide something is necessary to prevent extreme distress, we should trust them, just as we do in all other forms of healthcare.

The current WPATH guidelines are 275 pages long. You can find them here. Those concerned will be glad to know that they involve a lot of guidance for healthcare providers on staying educated about child development, seeking continuing education, learning how to help families talk about gender and helping kids be informed. They emphasize that even children who socially transition should be supported in continuing to explore gender, as all children should be. It is not what some insist is a pipeline from blockers to surgeries but instead emphasizes supporting individuals with lots of support and opportunities to reflect before moving forward. Medical steps are only to be taken only if they are indicated based on the guidelines. There is no one path of medical transition.

Closing Thoughts

When we make healthcare political, people are harmed. Politicians and (sadly) pastors have decided that trans kids are an easy target for a culture war, because when people don’t know these kids, the narrative can be easily twisted to sound like protection. We could do the same thing in other branches of care. Chemo for children? Why can’t you wait until 18 to fill them with poison?! If your internal response is “that’s different!” then I suspect you don’t know trans kids. My child chose leaving those she loved to live in a different country with a different language because the thought of not having access to gender affirming care was so painful. Healthcare is lifesaving.

This is, of course, a very broad overview. I welcome your questions for future posts. If you are on Facebook, I welcome you to follow my page, Pastor Jennifer Harris Dault

Today marks four months since I began writing a weekly multigenerational devotion. It has had one subscriber the entire time. I kept thinking I just hadn’t found its audience. Maybe they are still out there. Building an online community, ministry is hard. And my imposter syndrome is very loud. I’m here hoping that I’m not just speaking into the wind — and hoping it is enough if I am. The wind, however, has not been great at paying the bills.

I wonder if I moved us out here only to fail. If I fail, I wonder how we are meant to move on (if you can’t afford to stay, how can you afford to go? And to where?). What if I can’t do this? What if I fail my kids? Have I already?

In a few days we will mark 6 months here. The 6-month mark is known to be a time of homesickness, of panic, of everything I’m feeling. I’ve known to expect the wall, and it doesn’t help it feel easier.

Today I am thankful for the lectionary for handing me Romans 8. “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?” I’ve been thinking about all the things that have led to us being here. I’ve been thinking of all those who hear from the church that God doesn’t, couldn’t love them. I’ve been thinking about all the ways the church tries to separate, tries to say that queerness, transness, poverty, disability are places God draws the line. . . and how God keeps taking a hammer to that line. In this time when I don’t know what to think or hope for . . . when future is hard to see — the Spirit is sitting with me, singing without words with me and for me. Loving me. Loving you. I don’t know what it means, but it is enough.

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to support my ministry here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which allows me to offer resources for free.

First, examine what work your congregation has done. What I have noticed over the last few decades is that churches begin a discernment process, read books tackling the “clobber” passages, study marriage, and spend a long time processing the “LG” (and maybe the “B” — but probably not), then proudly declare themselves LGBTQIA+ friendly. Don’t get me wrong, those are great first steps . . . they just can’t be the only steps if you are truly wanting to be not only a safe space for queer people, but also a place that honors the gifts of queer people. I would even argue that places like this put the trans community at greater risk — not because they are mean, but because they are uneducated. Uneducated people are more likely to have unprocessed transphobia, but, in this case, they have communicated that they are good, safe people.

A rainbow on a church website — even the inclusive Pride flag — only tells me that you are gay friendly. So what else do I look for?

• The words “transgender” or “gender identity” — do your statements of welcome specifically mention trans people? If they do, do they mention nonbinary, agender, or gender nonconforming people?

• Use of pronouns — does your staff page list pronouns? And who does it list them for? I have seen a number of sites list pronouns for pastoral staff, but no one else. One church I worked with for a short time only listed pronouns for me. They are a place that is doing ongoing work, where I believe people will be treated well. AND it felt weird that only the person with non-standard pronouns had them listed on the website.

• What to expect — do you have a page advising visitors about what they can expect when they show up for worship? Sometimes these pages talk about the music, how people dress, welcome for children. Does yours mention bathrooms? Do you have a bathroom for those who don’t identify as either a girl/woman or boy/man? If not, it is time to think through the welcome your building offers (or doesn’t offer!)

• Language — How does your congregation greet people or talk about people in liturgies or “what we believe” pages? Is it gendered language (brothers and sisters, etc)?

• Is your congregation connected with the queer organization of your denomination (More Light, Brethren Mennonite Council, Reconciling Ministries, etc)? Is there a link? Do you talk about your involvement? Is your involvement more than sending a check?

• Is there any evidence on either your website or social media that you are standing loudly for queer folks — especially transgender children?

• Education — if you are a congregation with multiple Bible study/book study/discussion options or who lists past offerings, are any of them related to queerness (theology, books by queer people, discussions on how trans people are being targeted currently)?

This is, of course, not an exhaustive list. Not every church uses their website for the same purpose or has all the same resources. This is intended to be a starting place to think through who you are as a congregation. If you would like help examining your website (or thinking through your building or the next phase of the education work for your congregation), I would love to work with you.

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to support my ministry here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which allows me to offer resources for free.

He talks about how “queer” is a slur, how it isn’t a term he likes. And that makes sense — “queer” is by nature outside the norm, and he sees that as bad. “Queer” is a slur to him not only because of the history of the word, but also because of the present. He sees “queer” as that which threatens his own gay rights.

There are many who exist in the world and are told by others they are too much — they are too flamboyant, too colorful, too queer. And somehow that is meant to be a bad thing. A form of dress, a mannerism, a vibrancy that makes people uncomfortable and therefore it must be wrong. But must it really?

I am always amazed at how people can look at the same thing and have polar opposite reactions. A visibly queer person walks by. Some immediately see a person who is deviant, vile — I see beauty, freedom. . . and safety. That wasn’t always the case.

I was socialized by my surroundings to question those who looked different. I also wondered, “couldn’t they just tone it down? They know how people will react — they must be doing this intentionally to start a conflict.” Yet the easiest answer is that they are dressing for the same reason I do — to feel good, comfortable in their own skin, experience gender euphoria (to be fair, I have also been accused of using clothing choices as a weapon). The discomfort is the same mechanism in socialized racism. We’ve been told what the boxes are. Things outside those boxes are labeled “wrong.” But the problem isn’t the people, but the boxes. And just like all of the other things we need to unlearn, this is an area where it is essential for us to sit with the discomfort and examine what in us needs to change.

Our world needs queer. The Bible is full of queer. I mean seriously, have you seen the prophets? They wear weird things (or nothing at all), eat weird things, do weird things. They upset every norm there is. Jesus is decidedly queer, always twisting the understanding of the laws to something that gives life to those who need it. The Holy Spirit? Does it get queerer than tongues of fire and rushing wind, messing with languages and understanding? There is a reason the good, upstanding people in the crowd thought the disciples must be drunk.

Queerness is life-giving! It disrupts us from the status quo and shows us just how limiting and deadly it is. Queerness doesn’t push on norms for the sake of being contrarian, but because norms by nature leave people out. When you don’t examine them, they cause harm.

When our theology doesn’t make room for queer, it doesn’t make room for the Divine. It doesn’t leave room to see the new thing that God is always doing in our midst.

I am joyfully queer. Queerness is a blessing (to quote the amazing ). Queerness is sacred. Queerness is holy.

May we learn to see it as such.

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to suport my ministry here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

This year carries so much. I never anticipated navigating my feelings from an ocean away, yet here we are . . . my first July 4 as an immigrant.

On the one hand, it is easier to find a healthier way to think about “celebrating” my birthplace. In a parenting group I am in, a US American immigrant to South America is talking about the son she is carrying and wondering how to help him feel okay about his heritage in a way that doesn’t celebrate the government. The things I celebrate now? Community (how I miss being close to my community!). Traditions. Foods. Holidays. Weird American figures of speech. No one around me is waving (or wearing) a flag or hats with particular messaging (that is not to say I have not seen such hats here, I’ve seen two in the last five months). I can love the place because it is a place where I have loved and been loved.

On the other hand, there is the reminder of my status. My family is among the wave of trans exiles. The government turned me into an outsider. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. I am — we are — such a complicated tangle of emotions all the time. Grateful, angry, joyful, heartbroken, scared, excited. I long for a place that I pushed us aside.

A friend who just crossed the 6-month mark in Canada shared these words from an immigration therapist - “part of immigration grief is mourning all the present and future versions of yourself that you can’t have anymore because you left home, and the slow realization that even as you build a new life and community, life back home goes on without you and you don’t quite fit there anymore, either.”

In my work on the theology of exile, I’ve thought a lot about integration — not the integration into a new land (although that is certainly involved), but the integration of self. The work of holding the stories of grief and building them into the life that is being built. Two pieces that don’t always feel like they fit together, but that must be incorporated in order to be whole.

This is our second move, our second exile. It takes its toll. Financially, we have never recovered. Our careers were derailed. We sold our home three years and a few days ago to pay considerably higher rents with lower incomes ever since. We went from feeling stable to always being in fight or flight mode, as nothing feels fully safe after home is torn away. I hope that eases as we heal. I pray that eases as we heal. Each move means building home all over again. Every school celebration picture I see, I think about how my kids should be there. This week I have found myself sad about the closing of spots that we are 8 thousand miles away from — places I likely never would have seen again anyway.

For the past two months, our kids have not really been able to chat with their friends back home, as the app we downloaded for that purpose is not actually supported in Europe — and it took our phones a few months to realize we aren’t just visiting. My first attempt at finding an easy way to reconnect didn’t work (You’d think I would have thought to research. Alas.). These are kids my girls were supposed to grow up with — a crop from two different states. Friendships that are beautiful.

We are developing relationships here. People who tell me that they thought of me when they saw something when out and about. People who made the same heartbreaking journey. People who ask how I am really. We have new favorite parks, landmarks that mark proximity to home, spots that are ours. On Tuesday I did a whole happy dance because I was mere feet (er, meters) away from lemurs. LEMURS! I am slowly learning a language that I have wanted to understand since I was a teenager. I see the little green tendrils of life emerging.

And sometimes that hurts, too. Despite all the times I have told my kids that love grows — that they can love everyone back in the US and everyone here in Spain without any of it diminishing — as much as I know that to be true . . . like any grief, it hurts that life continues. It hurts that that we are building a life so far away from so many of our loves. It hurts that you are continuing life without us. Even though I want you to. Even though I know you want us to. . .

On this 250th anniversary of the country I’ve left, I am thankful for so many things that make my heart swell. And I am angry for the powers in that country that continue to exile the marginalized, that make life hell for so, so many. How one place can hold both, I’ll never understand. But I carry them both.

America, we are bound together in a relationship that is highly toxic. I want so much better for you. For us.

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

I testified before House and Senate committees that my daughter sadly inherited my sports ability — but that she should have the right to be cut from her middle school basketball team just like I had been. At that age she was convinced she would become an Olympic champion. I don’t recall the sport — probably all of them! She carried the same joy that all kids do when pretending to ice skate alongside the greats while never having been on a rink.

I carried her joy into spaces where I heard continually that she and others like her are monsters — large men dressing up as girls (and yes — they always use “men” and “girls”) in order to steal college volleyball scholarships. It truly is amazing how many state legislators apparently have granddaughters who are almost, but not quite good enough to get a volleyball scholarship. They’d have them, too, if it wasn’t for those pesky trans girls. Meanwhile, there were fewer than 5 trans athletes (not just girls) across the entire state — and none of the legislators with granddaughters at risk of losing scholarships could name a single one of them.

Today the Supreme Court ruled that states can ban trans girls from playing in sports at schools receiving public funds. The ruling isn’t surprising. It follows a series of rulings by this court aimed at stripping the rights of transgender people. But expecting something doesn’t make it hurt less, and today the pain is real. Today our community heard again that they don’t matter, that the fears of hypothetical volleyball players are worth more than their needs, more than the truth.

You might have read this far and be thinking, “wow, I really feel for you. But what about fairness? Don’t trans girls and women have an advantage over cis girls and women? I support trans people, but isn’t this a step too far?”

If this is you — and I get it, because I once had similar questions — know that those pushing anti-trans legislation have been seeding these doubts for over a decade. They made it sound reasonable to question — you are just concerned about fairness, after all! They want you to believe that people transition in order to win sports — that one day they are a man playing on men’s teams, and the next day they are dominating on women’s teams. What they don’t tell you is that all levels of sport have had guidelines in place for a long time. No one switches teams from one day to the next. Depending on guidelines, trans girls must be on testosterone blockers and undergo hormone replacement therapy (at carefully monitored levels) for 1-3 years before being able to play. Not a single study has shown that trans girls who have gone through HRT have any sort of biological advantage. Just this year, a review has come out showing the opposite. Yes, the studies are relatively small (in part because there just aren’t that many transgender athletes) — but they are significant.

Here’s the thing, though — I want there to be trans women athletes who win. I want role models who are transgender in every field to lift up to my daughter. I want her to know that she can do anything. I want her to see herself everywhere. Today, in upholding a false narrative, the Supreme Court made it much harder to do that.

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

Lots of places back in the States celebrated Pride Sunday today. And I’ve been following the social media. And friends, so many who claim to speak for Christ seek out these posts to respond with hate. The talking points are always the same: calls to “hate the sin”, suggestions that the pastor (and the church) are going to Hell, questions about why these services never talk about lust, declarations that Pride is a sin and Christians should never have pride in anything.

Those who just want to blanket declare sin or condemn folks to hell, I ignore. It is tired. Just as I no longer enter into arguments about whether it is a sin for a woman to pastor, I don’t enter into arguments on whether queer people existing is sin.

(If you are there and wanting resources to broaden your view, there are countless books on the clobber passages. The first one I read was around 25 years ago — What the Bible Really Says About Homosexuality by Daniel Helminiak. While this link is the updated edition from 2000, I read the original, from the early 90s. Certainly there are lots of books, podcasts, blogs, etc. that have come out since then — doing a search for the clobber passages should turn up lots of resources.)

But I rarely leave these discussions without saying something. I don’t post it for those who are leaving full-throated arguments about how right they are, but for those who find themselves in the comments and need a lovingly insistent theological voice.

Here are some of my responses today:

• *LGBTQIA+ people are a marginalized group who have historically — and currently in FAR too many places — been subjected to abuse by the church. When that is no longer the case — when the global church has repented, when queer and trans people are safe and beloved and no longer dealing with trauma simply from being themselves, THEN you can talk about lust. But right now, the message is "I'm sorry. You are so, SO loved. We have been stifling the Holy Spirit by not celebrating and learning from the gifts you bring."

• *I know you are aware that words have multiple meanings. Just as lions are not sinning because a group of them is referred to as a pride, the Pride in this post is not what the Bible is referencing. After all, the Bible wasn't written in English. Being proud of your kids, yourself, your community is not the problem. Conceit is the problem — thinking more highly of oneself than one ought. The whole point of Pride month is reminding others that queer and trans folks are human — pride as in dignity. If you don't recognize the dignity in others, if you don't have the humility to do that, then YOU would be the one practicing the sin of pride.

Churches absolutely need to be celebrating Pride. And honestly, one day (or even one month) isn’t enough. Even if you think your congregation is fully affirming, there are things for them to learn (and unlearn!), there are deeper forms of engagement for them to embrace, there is a whole world of blessings that they still need to experience!

Happy Pride, y’all. And because I am still a Rochesterian at heart, Pride is just kicking off — there is a whole nother month to go!

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

I know that trusting someone else with those big things is such a huge act of vulnerability. Holding stories, sharing these sacred moments, is such an important part of building community.

I think about community a lot. Always have, but maybe more so as I have partnered with Our Collective Becoming and moved across the globe. What does it mean to build a better world? What does it mean to turn toward each other in ways that nurture trust, care, and belonging?

That work here feels all kinds of complicated. We attend immigrant meetups a few times a month. There are people who we get excited to see, who in turn let us know that they have been thinking about us — the seeds of community building. There is the language work to try to get to a place to build relationships with other school parents. One of my children came home with a class picture today, and I was asking who I should know about. I’m amazed at these friendships that span language and culture. What does it take to forge a connection? Sometimes nothing more than kindness or a smile.

Isn’t that beautiful?

Those simple moments are sacred moments, too. They often require just as much vulnerability as telling deep stories.

Through gifts to Our Collective Becoming, I am able to keep building these connections. I’m able to keep being a resource for those who need it, keep offering support, education, and consulting services to the community, free of charge. But our funds are not yet enough to fully sustain this work. We need your help. Whether you are able to give a one-time gift of $5 or a monthly contribution of $5,000, your gift makes a huge difference. If you are able to support these conversations, please visit https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give and put my name in the comments.

Are you someone who could use a conversation? Please reach out. I would love to talk with you.

I assumed there had already been changes to their constitution. After all, the Baptist Faith and Message 2000 states, “While both men and women are gifted for service in the church, the office of pastor is limited to men as qualified by Scripture.” For decades SBC churches have been thrown out of the denomination, women have been banned from certain tracks and classes in seminaries, and girls have been taught from infancy that they can’t preach.

I was one of them. I was taught that only men could be pastors. Growing up, this left me more confused than anything. I was a faithful church member, so I believed what I was told (mostly), but I couldn’t figure out what it meant. What makes someone a “pastor”? My church had a pastor, an associate pastor . . . then there were “ministers” — minister of music, youth minister. But the church across the street had a youth pastor. Could a woman be a youth pastor or minister? When I mentioned a desire to my own youth minister, he laughed and told me I’d probably marry one. I knew I was called to ministry, so I spent years trying to figure out what that meant for me. What was allowed? What wasn’t? How could I know? I simultaneously had people telling me that God was going to use me to do great things and people telling me I’d make a good missionary’s wife. “Wife?” I thought. “Just what is a missionary’s wife?”

I was 18 and had just finished my sophomore year of college when I broke away from the SBC. . . which was complicated given that I attended a Southern Baptist college and helped lead a middle school Bible study at a local SBC church (was that youth ministry? the horror!).

I quickly figured out that women could preach — and could do so with remarkable faith and skill! It took much longer before I realized that *I* could preach, that *I* could be a pastor. In those days of desperately still wanting to be a Baptist (though no longer “Southern”), I compiled a book of the call stories of Baptist women ministers. (You’ll note that none of the biographical info is accurate anymore — aside from my partner.)

When I was first licensed into ministry, my childhood pastor reached out. He told me he was grateful that I grew up in a church where I heard affirming sermons that God called people regardless of gender. I was stunned. Despite being a teen who sat in the pew taking notes on the bulletin (both Sunday morning and evening!), I could not recall a single sermon declaring that women could be pastors. And despite having gone forward during an altar call proclaiming my own call to ministry, I don’t recall a single time that any of the pastoral staff talked with me to help discern what that call might be or mean. Meanwhile, I do recall such meetings with a group of teen boys considered leaders — none of whom pursued ministry. I had longed to be part of such a group.

I do believe that the ministers in my life believed they were encouraging me. Perhaps they were saying things that were, in fact, radical during that time when moderates were being systematically pushed out of the denomination (most liberals had already left). . . but I lived in the deep South where pressures on women came from society, not just the church. I likely would not have heard anything short of “We believe in the priesthood of the believer — so of course women can be pastors!”

I ache for the generations of girls and women who have heard that there isn’t a place for their call and for all those who will hear it in the days to come. It is spiritual abuse. It is robbing the whole church of voices it desperately needs. And I am glad that if this is who the SBC wants to continue to be, that they are putting it on paper and proclaiming it loudly — so that it can be just as loudly opposed. May it be plastered across their websites. May the news be unmistakable. For all who missed it in the Baptist Faith and Message and church teachings, may they now see plainly who the SBC is. May the SBC’s disdain of the image of God in half the population lead others to be loud — boldly stating that God’s call is bigger than the box the SBC tries to fit it in, that girls and women are beloved, full humans who have always been called to proclaim the Good News. And, of course, this is true of queer and trans folk, too!

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

¿Adonde vas?

Voy al restaurante. Quiero comer algo. ¿Quieres una cerveza?

Lo siento, no tengo mucho tiempo. Adios.

My partner and I have been using resources from the library (that is, the New York library) to supplement our Spanish learning. Audio conversational lessons that are well below our level of language, but sadly, probably right at our level of actual speaking. We haven’t learned any new vocabulary, but it probably has been helping my confidence, just forcing me to speak sentences aloud for about half an hour a day.

Social media has been in a weird space of having decided that I have lived here long enough that it no longer offers me translations for Spanish, and also every time I open it, I receive twenty thousand advertisements for language learning apps and workshops assuring me that I know enough vocabulary, but that every language class or app teaches things wrong. They are the ones who will get me unstuck so I’ll be able to speak. And then, of course, the classes they offer are roughly 850 euro — special deal, of course!

Sometimes I can be proud of the accomplishments I’m making. When I read entire messages full of indirect objects and can understand without having to guess half of the words. Sometimes I can be both proud and sad — like yesterday evening when I was riding the elevator down four floors to walk up the stairs. The elevator stopped on the floor below mine, where a woman and her small dog waited. She began to ask a question, and I motioned her in. It was only when her next question was asking if I was going down that I realized she’d first asked if I was going up, not whether I was okay with her riding with me, which is what I was expecting (elevators here can be tiny — for two, it works. More than that with unrelated people can be awkward. Picture standing in a typical US non-walk-in closet). I was excited that I didn’t panic and was ready to respond. And then I was bummed that it took me around 10 seconds too long to really understand the conversation. Sometimes it just feels so depressing that I can’t hold a deeper conversation. I don’t anticipate having many conversation about beer. And who am I going to eat with if I have nothing to say about whether or not I like certain things? I know I will keep improving. But it feels so slow. My entire life has been words. Writing. Speaking. I feel like a toddler (you know, aside from the many, many practice sentences about wine and beer).

This is what building a new life looks like. It is slow and exciting and scary and disheartening and encouraging and depressing and joyful all wrapped into one. While on one hand I know not to think too long-term — my dreams of being rooted have not worked out for me well these last 5 years — but I imagine. I wonder what life will look like ten years from now. . . and beyond. Will I fit? Will I build something good? And not just good, but great? Is this the country where I will die? Is this where future generations of my family will be? Will my grandchildren be native speakers of three languages? Will this be more home to my kids than the country we left? Will it be safe for them to return if they choose?

These might seem like bizarre things to ponder. What can I say? I’m pretty bizarre. On a personal note, I wonder if I’ll ever do real ministry work again. I know everything can be ministry — I believe and affirm that. I moved here knowing that there isn’t exactly a progressive church scene here. I would do it again. And it is hard wondering if I have preached my last sermon or served communion to folks other than my immediate family for the last time.

Quiero algo más.

We will build it. Won’t we?

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!

I have sat at this screen all week trying to organize my thoughts. As I’m sitting down to write this (finally? again?) my thoughts are still chaos. Maybe yours are, too. Pride feels different this year. One side of that is obvious — I’m in a completely different place. Spain was recently named the top country in Europe for LGBTQIA+ people to live. This is great — and it also means people don’t have to be visible in the same ways. . . And the US . . . oh, the US.

I’ve started and erased so many paragraphs about things that are happening, about towns doing awful things and comments sections being inundated with hate. I’ve thought about educating, talking about Marsha P. Johnson . . . and maybe I’ll get there, but today, I can’t. Today, I want to share what Pride is to me.

What is Pride? It is a declaration that who we are is sacred. It is a celebration of the joy that the world tries to squash. It is a rebellion against the hatred of the world. It is an opportunity to be fully yourself in an environment where people understand and celebrate you. It is a family. A community. A village that stands with you and for you.

Pride is a declaration that we will not ever go silently. That the beauty of who we are will not be dampened by literal slings and arrows.

Pride is a lifeline for so many. The one place they can be fully themselves.

It is church — or at least what church should be. All the images I was taught of heaven — of people who are different coming together . . . that is Pride. It is holy ground.

For me Pride is the community that has held me, nurtured me, reminded me of who I am when I forget. It is the family that formed around us. It is the village that helped us get to where we are.

When will we no longer need Pride? When the whole world is Pride! Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Happy Pride, y’all!

If my writing means something to you, I invite you to leave a tip here: https://www.ourcollectivebecoming.org/give (put my name in the messages/comments). Gifts of all sizes help fund the work I do, which in turn funds our life here. We are especially in need of monthly contributors. At this point, monthly contributions only make up about 1/6 of necessary funds. Thank you!