"Standing on the Side of Love"
A Sermon by
The Reverend Bill Clark
All I can do is tell the story. Telling the story is an important part of our Unitarian Universalist faith. Telling the story is where we locate the connections to one another that help us build the beloved community. Telling the story puts people and faces to names and labels, which can dispel fear and open the mind to understanding, acceptance and love. All I can do is tell the story, and this must be sufficient.
This morning we are hearing stories. Our first story was from our first reading, an excerpt from the life of Leanne McCall Tigert. Leanne spoke of shame and disgust and we heard her crying out in anger, "This is the way I was born! Why did God make me this way?"
My own story as a gay man as very similar sentiments and begins with the companions of rejection, alienation and condemnation, yet it ends in the company of determination, celebration, acceptance and love. For this is my story of learning to stand on the side of love.
All I can do is tell the story and this must be sufficient.
My story starts in the second grade. That is when I can remember it beginning. That is the first time I can recall the memories of those emotions -- those pure and innocent feelings where your mind and body begin to merge into one. I was seven years old. Mrs. Baske was my second grade teacher. All of my four brothers and sisters before me attended the exact same school. All of them had the exact same teacher. It was either, "Oh, you're Susan Clark's little brother, how wonderful." Or it was, "Oh you're Peter Clark's little brother! Well I certainly hope you don't follow in his footsteps." Or, "You're Debbie and Mary Lou's little brother, isn't that nice." Until finally it came to, "Exactly how many more Clarks are there?"
Whatever the opinions being passed down there was a clear line of communication to my young mind that I was not my own person. There were others who had gone before me. I was either Peter's little brother or Susan's little brother or Debbie and that brat Mary Lou's little brother. I was never simply little Billy Clark. After all, there were others who had gone before me. There were standards to live up to now -- other people's perception to take into consideration -- other shoes to fill.
All of that seemed to change when Mrs. Baske brought the new student into the classroom. As she entered the tall dark wooden doorway an angel like figure appeared next to her side. "This is Kevin," she said. "He will be in our class." Kevin. The angel had a name.
"Now, let's see if we can find you a best friend," her eyes rapidly scanning the tops of our youthful heads, until eventually those eyes came to rest within my field of vision. Perhaps it was my overly excited stare, or perhaps she was able to somehow hear the loud pounding within my heart or maybe it was the seemingly ecstatic smile on my face.
"Billy, would you like to be Kevin's best friend?" And with that simple question put to me in the second grade, my identity began to be formulated from deep within.
As I reflect back on those early childhood memories I can recognize those moments of awareness and acknowledgement from the inner workings and inner sanctuary of my soul. I was becoming my own person! I was developing a sense of self that was different from my brothers and sisters. I discovered a sense of being, a sense of who I was that was directly connected to my inner feelings. It was right there inside me. It felt as natural and as normal to my sense of self as did my blonde hair and my blue eyes.
(Remember, I was seven years old then. I had hair!)
What I have come to realize now is this spirit, this self that I can so vividly recall from my childhood was in fact the birth, the recognition and the release of what I call my Gay spirit or my Gay soul. Perhaps Mrs. Baske, my second grade teacher, recognized it as well, (in today's vernacular we call that "gaydar") and thus chose me to befriend the angel Kevin.
Now of course Kevin was no angel. He was purely a young and innocent second grader like myself. But his presence in my life, this innate attraction at that early age, awakened in me a sense of being, a sense of identity and an emerging sense of sexuality. Kevin and I did become best friends. I would go home and talk about Kevin; "Kevin and I did this and we want to do that;" and "Can I invite him over?" etc. The message from my family eventually became "Do not talk about Kevin so much. How is your girl friend Doreen or Brenda?" The message was: enough about Kevin.
This is only the beginning of my story. I tell this part to highlight the very normal and natural way my sense of self developed -- all by itself! This is how I was created. It simply is!
It is easy now to look back at this story and tell it from this safe distance and perspective. However, there are chapters within this story of deep shame, disgust and despair. There were six suicide attempts, a severe drug addiction and a deliberate cut off from any organized and sanctified religious institution.
The struggle to self-acceptance and self-love is highlighted by the coming out process. Coming out in gay culture is the reference to acknowledging to oneself and others that, yes, I am indeed gay. Coming out to many members of my community is a sacrament. It is the reconnection to one's sense of self and to the divine power within. This is who I am. And I am proud of it! (show sign in ASL)
One of the turning factors in my coming out story was on my 21st birthday. My parents sent me a card. On the outside was this picture of a large buxom woman with long flowing blonde hair. On the inside was written, "What every 21 year old man wants for his birthday." How sad, I thought. How sad. Here were the very people who gave me the gift of live and yet they know nothing about who I am. I came out to them that summer.
Psychologist Patrick Carnes writes, "An injury to one's sense of self forges some bonds. The self-injury becomes part of the fabric of relationship and further disrupts the natural unfolding of the self. An emptiness forms at the core of the person and the self becomes inconsolable. No addiction can fill in. No denial of self will restore it. No single gesture will be believable. Only a profound sense of the human community caring for the self can seal up this hole."
Only a profound sense of human community can seal up this hole. Our next story today speaks well to this ideal of community, healing and why we do this work.
Megan Ladd:
There are no hard and fast statistics as to how often transsexuality occurs. Some say one in 5,000, others one in 30,000 and still others one in 100,000. Whenever I hear these figures, I can't help but think -- If I was going to "win" something with such long odds, why couldn't it have been the lottery?
I knew at a young age that something was a bit off; that somehow I was different from other boys. Sometimes at night when I was lying in bed, I would tuck my genitals between my legs and fall asleep. When I would wake up and find everything was still there I would be disappointed and more than a little perplexed..
Later, I began to dress in my sister's clothes. There was something about doing this that just made me feel right. Once when I was 12, I got up early on a Saturday morning, dressed and took a walk around the neighborhood. It felt so freeing to be out in public although I now wonder if the cocktail dress and heels I wore were appropriate for that time of day.
Even though it felt right to dress, doing so filled me with guilt and with shame. I prayed for these feelings to go away; but they never did. I willed myself to stop thinking about them only to have them pop into my mind every single day. Many times when I dressed, I swore it was for the last time and then, when it wasn't, I berated myself for being weak and perverted.
Of course there was no way I could ever tell anyone about this side of me. I was a good student and athlete, went to a good college, married my college sweetheart, had a successful job, a nice house and 3 great kids. On the surface it looked like I was living the perfect life and I worked hard at promoting that image. In fact, I became so adept at playing this role I pretty much convinced myself it was true, too. Sure, I thought about gender stuff every day and I dressed up now and then but that was just a little peculiarity I had.
Then about 5 years ago, this perfect life started to crumble. The urge to dress became much stronger and so I went to see a gender therapist to try and get a handle on things. She helped me overcome a lot of the guilt and shame I felt about being transgendered. But with the lifting of these negative emotions came the desire to explore these feelings more and this began to cause issues at home. I had told my wife about my dressing a few months after we were married and throughout the rest of our marriage she was semi-supportive. We did not discuss the subject often and when we did it was usually not productive. I think she was frustrated and worried that I couldn't give her definitive answers as to how I felt and how far I wanted to take things.
I started going to a place in Waltham that was a meeting spot for the gender community. I went to this club most weeks and then one weekend in the fall of 2001 I went to Provincetown with other members from the club. The plan was to go into town on Saturday morning and I was very excited since this would be my first public outing since the time when I was 12 (although this time I decided to keep the cocktail dress in the closet). My friends from the club has always told me how good I looked and so I had convinced myself I would pass with little problem; that somehow people wouldn't notice my heavy beard cover or deep voice or that I moved in a "less than graceful" manner. But being out in the public eye that day was a harsh reality check as I drew more than my fair share of curious looks, laughs and negative comments.
After this weekend was over, I began going to the club less and less and then eventually stopped dressing altogether. I did this partly to appease my wife, partly because of the bad experience from being out and partly because I really thought I could stop once and for all. Instead of dressing I began to devote myself to two diametrically opposed outlets. One was getting more involved in my church and the other was drinking. Neither one brought me anything more than temporary relief and I sank into a depression which lasted for about a year. Then I began working from home two or three days a week and, during that time, I started to dress again. The worst of the depression started to lift but I still wasn't able to sustain a good mood for more than a day or two at a time. I was mostly just going through the motions but I was able to get my drinking under control and I began to find more comfort in going to church.
In the fall of 2003, I decided to see another gender therapist in the hope that I could finally figure out where I fell on the gender spectrum. Around this same time, I began to get treatments to remove facial and body hair. I started taking voice lessons to try to learn to speak in a more feminine voice and I also began to work at trying to improve my presentation as a female. One day, my voice therapist suggested I start coming to the lessons presenting as a woman and I kind of surprised myself by agreeing to do so. After a lesson I would try to push myself to do something new, like pumping gas or going to an ATM or walking through a store. Gradually I began to gain more confidence in going out. I still drew a fair number of stares and got a few comments but for the most part people treated me well.
Holiday time that year was very difficult. I was struggling with my gender identity, the sessions with the therapist were emotionally draining and things were not going well at home. The day after New Year's was an especially brutal day. I couldn't function at work. Even the simplest tasks took forever. I finally left around 3:00. Driving home it was taking all my strength to keep the car on the road. I pulled into the garage and saw that my wife and kids were out. I kept the car engine running and all I could think was I can't take this anymore. I had my hand on the button to close the garage door and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't want my kids to find me that way. I went inside and collapsed on the bed. I didn't even have the strength to take off my coat or shoes. I stayed there from 4:00 that afternoon until 11:00 the next morning.
A few weeks later I came to the realization that if I didn't transition, then it wouldn't be much longer before I'd be back in the garage and that this time I would follow through. I told my wife about my decision and, considering we both knew it meant the end of our marriage, she handled this news fairly well.
Around this time I began looking for a new church where, ideally, I could go presenting as Megan. The Congregationalist church I was attending in my home town was out not just because of the "presentation factor" but also because the spiritual message was no longer resonating with me. A number of friends from the gender community recommended attending a UU church and so I decided to try a few different ones. The first church I came to was First Parish. I enjoyed the service very much and afterwards one of the greeters invited me to coffee hour. Everyone was very friendly although I have to admit that at first I thought this was because of my being transgendered. But then I noticed whenever anyone seemed to be standing by themselves someone would go over and talk with them. This really impressed me and so I decided I'd give First Parish another try; and then another and soon, I knew there was no need to ever try any place else. This church has become an important part of my life in the year and a half I have been coming here. I have taken a couple of the Adult Ed classes and I am part of a Covenant Group, whose other members have been incredibly open and accepting and supportive. I love that I can explore my spirituality the way I want but the best part of this church is the people. You make the words "Love is the doctrine of this church" come alive.
During the spring of last year, I mapped out my plan for transitioning. One of the hardest parts was letting other people know of my decision. While none of these meetings were easy, far and away the most difficult was telling my parents. At first, they were, in my father's words "devastated at the news". But even though they can't understand what I am going through they have continued to show me unconditional love and they have worked very hard at accepting their new daughter. I have been very fortunate in that most people have chosen to remain in my life. But some, including two of my best friends from college have decided they no longer want to have a relationship and dropped out of my life once Dave was no longer around.
I moved out of the house a year ago this past July and began living a dual life -- work as Dave, most of the rest of the time as Megan. This past June I told management at work about my plans to go fulltime in July and, as has happened so often in my journey, I was amazed and overwhelmed by the support I received. I went fulltime on July 7th, had facial surgery on July 9th and went back to work, as Megan, on August 8th. As you might imagine, that first day at work was a bit nerve wracking but people could not have been nicer or more professional and by the end of the week my change was pretty much a non-event.
This coming January, I will have a couple of more procedures done and these will pretty much complete the physical side of the transition. While I am anxious and excited (and a little nervous) about the surgery...the day I am really looking forward to is that first day when the swelling and pain are gone and I can look in the mirror and feel good about what I see reflected back; the day when I finally feel whole and complete.
So, even though things have been a struggle at times, as I think about the friends I have, the personal and spiritual growth I have gone through and the pure joy I now feel, I can only come to one conclusion -- I guess I did win the lottery after all.
I know when I first met Megan and heard her story I was amazed at the courage, compassion and commitment to her sense of self. Coming out as gay some how paled in comparison. The struggle for the transgender community for affirmation and acceptance continues to this day. Within the GLBT community itself there has been divisions over the "T's" "Why are we including them in our struggle?" They are going to set us back! It becomes the classical them vs. us paradigm.
Then I recall this faith -- this religious faith of Unitarian-Universalism which demands of me to work in affirming and promoting the dignity and worth of all human beings. Then I recall the words of Psychologist Patrick Carnes "Only a profound sense of the human community caring for the self can seal up this hole." Then I recall Megan's story. And I am brought to my knees in humility and a hunger for justice, compassion and love.
We do this work -- we must do this work -- because it is the work of saving lives.
None of this work is easy. The struggle to comprehend and understand what the term transgender really means may seem difficult. The struggle to comprehend and understand marriage for same sex couples may seem difficult. Yet because it is difficult do we not do this work? Because it may be something so absolutely foreign to us, do we not do this work? My god, I hope not! I marry heterosexuals all the time -- trust me it is completely foreign to me -- I do not get it at all. Yet I stand proudly in front of a couple as they stand in love.
We do this work, because our faith demands of us, whether we are gay, lesbian, straight, bisexual, or transgender to stand on the side of love. We stand boldly and proudly in affirming justice, equality, love, acceptance, and compassion in all human relations. We do this work because it is not about concepts, ideals or institutions. We do this work because it is about people -- people with stories. And all I can do is tell the story and this must be sufficient. And it is sufficient!
Blessed Be.