With Support from the Queerness Committee

Recognizing the Sacred Gift of Trans Identity

As a transgender woman who transitioned in 1998, I am struggling under the weight of a deep concern. I am grateful that some Quaker meetings have minuted their support for Friends whose gender identity and expression are different from the sex assigned at their birth. I am also thankful that among Quakers and other progressive groups, acceptance of transgender people has expanded to include a range of gender identities that do not conform to a traditional binary understanding of gender. These heartwarming actions recognize and include transgender individuals in the beloved community.

But not all meetings are as eager to extend this welcome. Furthermore, the current political context of toxic anti-trans rhetoric coupled with exclusionary policy changes may undermine the potency of these minutes of inclusion for most of us sheltering under the broad transgender umbrella.

The political attempts to erode and erase the acceptance of transgender people may also cause some meetings to question their level of acceptance and tolerance for people whose gender presentation may challenge conceptions of gender that are narrowly binary. These retrogressive measures fall most heavily on those who are considering transition or have already done so, directly threatening our ability to travel safely across borders, use public spaces (including restrooms), access vital health services, and live our lives with dignity and peace. The mean-spirited targeting of a small subset of the population has caused tremendous pain throughout the trans community. 

It is not clear what period of supposed greatness the MAGA movement aspires to use as a model for reinventing our society, but some have suggested the McCarthy era of the 1950s. In the 1950s, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) deemed transsexuality a disorder best treated with interventions such as chemical aversion and electroshock therapy.

The sensation created by Christine Jorgensen’s return from Denmark in 1953 as a woman may have been a spark in my own long, slow process of change. Jorgensen’s stunning transformation jolted society into awareness that there were people called “transsexuals” (“transgender” was not yet in use). Jorgensen had what is known as “passing privilege,” i.e., after surgery she could successfully “pass” as a sex different from that assigned at birth. Eventually the medical community began to support transition for those who could pass and merge unobtrusively into society. But it was not until 1993 that the APA changed the reference in their diagnostic manual from “transsexuality” to “gender identity disorder,” and it took another 20 years to change this diagnosis to the less stigmatizing “gender dysphoria.”

I feel led to share how my experience of coming out as a transgender woman in 1998 might provide insight for Quaker meetings seeking to provide greater assistance to their trans and nonbinary members experiencing tremendous stress. When I was born in 1955, my parents thought I was a boy, though to me that gender never felt right. As a young person, I remember praying every night, “Please God, make me a girl,” and I had powerful dreams about being transformed to a different gender. When my prayers seemed unanswered, I had no idea how to achieve such a momentous gender change or where I might find support. As years passed and I grew into a large male body, I did not think I could ever pass as a woman, which led me to conceal my disappointment as well as my gender difference.

The lonely isolation of being closeted exacted a steep cost. My debilitating fear of exposure caused me to doubt my desire to be a girl. The fear created a powerful spiritual blockage that silenced any internal messages about needing to follow my path. Eventually, holding onto this secret for years sent me into a depressive spiral where my fears about losing my marriage, my family, and my career forced me to the brink of suicide.

I did not feel that my clearness committee involved any gatekeeping; I recall a loving effort to provide space for me to share how my gender and spiritual journeys were closely intertwined. This format should never be seen as an inquisition but an opportunity for all to delve more deeply and open themselves to the Seed within. 

During this period of despair, I attended a Quaker meeting sponsored by Friends for Lesbian and Gay Concerns (now Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns). I remember settling into worship among a loving group of LGBTQ Friends and suddenly finding myself transported to a vastly different place that I later recorded in my journal:

I found myself walking along a path on a high plateau leading straight to the edge of a precipice. Peering over the edge I saw a barren landscape at the bottom—an exceptionally long way down. Waves of fear rose within me, and I thought I can’t do this. I am not sure how I found the courage to move onward, but I knew that I had to follow my path. Gathering my physical and emotional resources, I moved slowly forward one step at a time. Instead of the rapid uprush of wind as I stepped off the cliff edge and fell into the abyss, I found with each step that my shoes gripped the rock ever so firmly. Within seconds, I was no longer walking upside down but was following some other procedure. Perhaps I was walking on angel’s wings. . . . Almost instantaneously the path twisted, and I was walking down using a gentle spiral stairway inside the mountain. When I reached the bottom I discovered that it was not desolate but bursting with beautiful colors.

Around this time, I attended the Southern Comfort Convention in Atlanta, Georgia, the largest gathering of trans folks in the country, with as many as 500 participants from every corner of our nation. I took a wonderful workshop that suggested redefining transgender identity as a gift from the Divine. We discussed the ways Indigenous cultures around the globe accepted people’s gender difference, recognizing that no one would choose such a difficult path unless prompted by some Higher Power. The idea that a person’s dreams with respect to their gender might guide them to living a more authentic life resonated deeply within me as a profound yet very sensible approach to a complex question.

In the fall of 1996, as I tried to cope with the profound turmoil I was experiencing due to denying my gender identity, I asked two Friends in Tallahassee (Fla.) Meeting whether these internal messages were, in fact, a leading. They, in turn, offered their willingness to convene a clearness committee to help me with this potentially life-changing discernment. Did I dare follow the path shown to me in that stairway dream, and could I embrace my hidden identity to live my life openly as a trans woman?

These Friends invited some other well-grounded members of the meeting to form a clearness committee and provided an opportunity for me to share deeply about my leading. After four sessions of deep listening over several months, I was ready to come out to my meeting, my university, and the world. This process gave me the strength to trust that the messages that I was receiving were, in fact, leadings from Spirit that continue and sustain me to this day. The assistance of this committee in naming and validating the divine gift I had received encouraged me to stand tall and be fully myself in a world which at that time knew little about trans people.

As I sit here today, I am appalled by politicians and media influencers who castigate those whose gender is different, labeling us as criminally disposed to extremist violence. My heart breaks as I consider the impact of these vile messages on those Friends, both young and old, who struggle to live into whatever gender they are called to be. I worry that those contemplating transition will be overcome by the same mind-numbing fear and despair I experienced roughly 30 years ago. Even those who have already come out prior to this outpouring of difficult executive orders may not be adequately prepared for an onslaught of intolerance for transgender, nonbinary, and gender queer people in this increasingly hostile world.

I wonder how Friends meetings across the country are responding to this crisis of hatred. Are they taking time to make crystal clear their grounding love and support for attenders who may be hurting so deeply? The loving support I received from members of Tallahassee Meeting through my clearness process and afterward was enormously helpful in linking my need to transition with my evolving spiritual journey. I suggest that the historically trusted Quaker clearness process might prove to be a source of vital spiritual support offered by meetings for those grappling with gender issues in today’s challenging times.

The Quaker practice of clearness committees is a well-seasoned approach for helping couples discern whether they are ready for marriage under the care of a meeting, as well as whether a person feels ready for membership. I did not feel that my clearness committee involved any gatekeeping; I recall a loving effort to provide space for me to share how my gender and spiritual journeys were closely intertwined. This format should never be seen as an inquisition but as an opportunity for all to delve more deeply and open themselves to the Seed within.

Unfortunately, we don’t use clearness committees enough to assist individuals struggling with challenging leadings, including how to manifest a deeply felt need to express one’s gender difference. I believe that a clearness committee (or more aptly, a “queerness committee”) might be lovingly offered to trans and nonbinary folks in our meetings to assist them in discerning their leading: distinguishing between the sacred nature of their gender as led by Spirit and what, some might assume, is a more political statement. By naming their queerness as gift of Spirit, both the individual and the wider meeting may more readily draw on the infinite resources of the Divine as a source of empowerment, enabling the unified community to stand together against the current backlash of hatred and intolerance.

I strongly encourage Friends meetings to consider how this tradition from our Quaker heritage might be of use in providing a more visible means of support to trans folks who are struggling with the oppressive vitriol of today’s political climate.