When puberty began, I assumed I was like everyone else. They got crushes on people, I got crushes on people. They wanted to hold hands and kiss their crushes, I wanted to hold hands and kiss my crushes.
When I was a kid my grandmother would rock back and forth on her green metallic rocking chair singing old Spirituals like, “We shall overcome, someday.” I still remember her tears. My grandmother, big and yellow, a proud Christian, guarded our South Dallas porch singing songs like, “I’m a solider in the Army of the Lord. I’m a solider in the Army.”
Last night was my dad’s memorial service. I delayed my coming out because of his illness. I knew that he was already struggling with his own mortality and that trying to reconcile the daughter he was so proud of and loved deeply with the ideas he had about LGBT people would be too much for him.
Growing up in an evangelical Christian home, my family was invested in maintaining certain Judeo-Christian holiday traditions. Easter Sunday was no exception; it was a day rooted in chocolate pastels, family dinner, and most notably for me: new accessories.
Trigger warning: discussion of suicide
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s comments about her understanding of what “transness” is set off a firestorm last month. In an interview, she said trans women live in the world with “privileges that the world accords to men” prior to transition.
I am not oppressed, I am not a victim—I thrive, I rise, I am.
A few months ago, I participated at an organization's Board of Directors meeting. It was an intense gathering where we were all challenged to stretch beyond our comfort zones and look at how each of us participates in anti-oppression work and in oppression (intentionally and unintentionally)—sometimes at the same time.
Editor's Note: Today, the U.S. Departments of Education and Justice made it clear that they will not uphold guidelines designed to help schools support transgender students. Our faith tells us trans students deserve to be treated with dignity and respect—this includes the ability to use bathrooms and locker rooms that correspond with who they are.
I was not always out as trans, but I was always uncomfortable in school bathrooms.
I arrived at Creating Change, the annual winter gathering of LGBTQ and ally activists organized by The National LGBTQ Taskforce, feeling broken and frightened. I worked hard for Hillary and felt shattered by the election. Every Donald Trump cabinet appointment since then confirmed my fears of coming harm to so many. And now he is President; the Congress is in the hands of the Tea Party.
There is, perhaps, no stronger feeling of love than the love a parent feels for his or her newborn child. As the child grows into their own unique self, inevitably pushing against the protective bounds the parent has set, that love is often put to the test.