Archive for July, 2010

July 25, 2010

“Is there anything else we should know?”

I am going to Phoenix, Arizona next week to protest SB 1070, colloquially called the “papers please” bill.

I am excited.  I am nervous.  I am hesitant.  But I’m ready to dive right in.

But that’s not what this (quick) blog post is about.

I am going with the Standing On the Side of Love Campaign, a campaign run by the Unitarian Universalist Association.  They are providing housing while I am there.

Anybody who reads my blog who has done activism work knows what the “I need housing!” email looks like.

What’s your name?  When are you arriving/departing?  Any dietary notes?  Any allergies/accommodations/necessities?  And always (alwaysalwaysalways) “Is there anything else we should know?”

For any conference in the past couple years I’ve written some variation of “I am transgender and am uncomfortable staying with somebody where that might be an issue.”

And this time?  I didn’t.  I didn’t allude in any way to the fact that I’m trans, to the fact that I don’t meet most folks’ definitions of an “Andrew.”

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

July 16, 2010


I was an early reader.  I know I was reading before my 4th birthday because I know I received books for my 4th birthday that I could read on my own.  there are videos.  I’ve always, ALWAYS, turned to books, and later to essays and the internet, to learn more about something.

In preschool and kindergarten I LOVED the encyclopedias.  I just loved learning things about everything.  As I got older and learned to use the library to my advantage I would hear a term or a phrase and search out books on it.  Those books would introduce me to other terms and phrases and I would read and read.  I read thousands of books during my childhood.  There wasn’t much to do at home and, hey, I had a library card.

It is still much of how I function in the world.  I get interested in something so I read a book on it.  Take Autism, for example.  When I was 7 or 8 I read “Kristy and the Secret of Susan,” a Baby-Sitters’ Club book.  In the book Kristy, one of the babysitters, gets a babysitting job sitting for Susan, a child savant with autism.  It’s all very rain-man.  Susan has a calendar in her head, she can play any piece of music after hearing it once, but other than singing or answering “what day did __ happen on” questions she is nonverbal.  That is what introduced me to Autism.

So I started reading more about it.  Not all at once but over the next few years.  First I went to the dictionary.  Then to the encyclopedia.  Then I read a couple of books about parenting children with autism.  That all introduced me to the fact that there’s a lot more to autism than being smart but closed off to the world.  It also introduced me to the concept of mainstreaming in education and stuff like that.  When I was 12 I learned that there was a little league team in the area that paired kids with developmental and physical delays with typically abled kids to play baseball, so I signed myself up.

I then spent every summer for the next few years working with kids with autism, visual and hearing impairments, and various developmental delays.  I now work full time at a residential treatment center for children with severe autism and other developmental delays.

That’s just one example.  I went from being presented with a very one-dimensional view of something to being completely engulfed in it.

Books really are what have made this world work for me.  I crave knowledge.  I need to know X about Y.  And I’m unwilling to only accept Person A’s opinion on Y.  I need Persons’ B-R as well.

I’ve done this with lots of things.  Religion. Sign Language.  Polyamory.  LGBTQ Organizing.  Kink.  Climatology.  Relationships  Intimacy.

It works.  I like it.


July 6, 2010

Why I went (back) to church, and why I stayed

You know how, sometimes, you just don’t know what to do with yourself?  “I *could* do that… nah.  Or I… eh, nevermind.  Ohhhh, I’ll go… feh.”

That’s the mindset I came at this from.  I said, “if nothing else, I will write a blog post.”

A lot of folks my age don’t go to church.  A lot of folks in general don’t go to church, but particularly, folks my age don’t seem to attend in droves.  People my age are pretty far beyond the “my parents make me” stage in their lives, not at the “I have a serious partner who does X” place, not usually at the “I have children and want them to have a ___ community” years, and in general like doing what they want, when they want it.

According to Millennium Study by Taylor Nelson Sofres Intersearch in 1999 43% of people in the United States claim to go to a religious service of some kind at least once a week.  In a 2003 Gallup poll when people were asked “Did you, yourself, happen to attend church or synagogue in the last seven days, or not?” 41% said yes.

So it’s a minority, but not by much.  But a recent survey by Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that around 65% of young people (in their study it was ages 18 to 29) “rarely or never” attend worship services.  That’s not counting the people who go “sometimes” or, perhaps more importantly in my mind, the ones who are lying.

I went to church when I was younger.  I went pretty much every Sunday, and I liked it.  I went to Sunday School, I went to services, sometimes I helped out in the childrens’ chapel.  It was a big, evangelical Christian church.  A different Sunday School class for every age, two levels of pews, people rolling in the aisles and speaking in tongues, 2 services on Sunday morning, a service on Sunday night, and bible study, royal rangers, or missionettes (the last two are basically the evangelical equivalents of girl and boy scouts).

When I was 12 I started coming out as a lesbian.  Long story short, I was no longer welcome at that church.  I vowed that I would not go back to church, and I didn’t for over 10 years.  And I was fine with that.  I was happy doing my own thing.

I think I’ve told the story of how I came to be a church-going member of society on this blog.  I’m not quite invested enough right now to go back and look, but I feel like I must have.  If I did it probably said something like “I went to the church after we lost question 1 in November.”

But I stayed because I thought I’d found this awesome community.  And I stayed because the minister was amazing.  For somebody who was kicked out of a faith community due to having a sexuality that didn’t “mesh” I was pretty determined to find SOMETHING wrong with this faith tradition.  Something had to be bad about it, something that I didn’t like, that would drive me away.  Clearly they had to have SOME issue with my identity.  Afterall, I was now not only breaking sexuality barriers, but gender ones, too.

But the minister was queer.  Obviously and unapologetically so.  And I thought “I like this.  I like the other people here.  And if they let this person be their minister they I suppose they won’t have too many problems with me.”

I liked a lot of things.  I’ve always loved singing, but I rarely do it.  I loved the routine.  I loved the sermons.  I loved the ritual.  I loved that it seemed to be a happy and loving community.

And then the minister left the congregation.  I say she was fired, though I know that technically there was a resignation involved.  Either way, the congregation agrees that, by and large, we were not consulted in any way about this.  A few of us were more angry than the rest.  Some weren’t angry at all.

Since then we have been having services led by members alternating with services led by ministers from other places.  I’m not crazy about either one.  Nobody seems to be mentioning that the people who come every Sunday have changed.  Nobody seems to be mentioning that the sermons aren’t as engaging.  Nobody seems to be mentioning that Joys and Sorrows is awkward and either really long or really short, that we’re not using the teal hynmal anymore, that things seem stilted and awkward.  Maybe nobody is mentioning those things because nobody else feels that way, but I don’t think so.

Quite a few people have left, most of the ones who were really angry about what happened with our minister.  I haven’t left.  Right now I’m not going to.  Right now I am not thrilled with what the church has become but I also don’t give up very easily.  In my years of activism I’ve learned how glorious and amazing things that work can be, and I’ve learned that when something ISN’T amazing and fabulous that the way to change it is NOT to say “huh, that’s not working.  I’m going to leave now.”  Movements MOVE.  The direction they move is up to the people.  I know that that’s a botched quote from somewhere.  My point is that I want this church to be a spiritually renewing place for people like me.  For others, too, but sometimes you need to put yourself first.

I think church can be incredibly important for young, LGBTQ people.  I don’t think everyone needs it, but I certainly think that more people want it than know where to find it.

And to draw in the younger LGBTQ folks, churches need to show that they WANT those members, not that they will merely tolerate them.  Talk about sex in church!  Talk about social movements!  Talk about how young people have changed X, moved Y, and accomplished Z.  Let US know that WE are important.  That you value us in your community as members, first and foremost, not as tokens.

That needs to happen.  That’s why I stayed.

July 1, 2010

My country has done a good job

Today while I was driving to the island I was listening to MPBN (ME Public Broadcasting Network) and they had on some man who had fought in Vietnam.  He was talking about how when he came home he didn’t get any kind of a welcome.  People spit at him, called him baby killer.  Of course I’d heard these things before, how our troops coming home from Vietnam were not welcomed as they had been in previous wars, how they were not thanked for their service to the country.

And, I suppose, our country has done a good job in making sure that doesn’t happen again.  I am certainly no fan whatsoever of this war.  I have been against it since before it happened.  According to Wikipedia the war started on October 7th, 2001.  I was 14 years old.  It was the beginning of my first year of high school.  I am 23 now.  I am a college graduate.  I never dreamed that this war would go on for so long.  Nobody did.  I have nothing but hatred for this war.

But I don’t hate our soldiers.  I hate that they have to go there, I hate what our country is telling them to do, I severely dislike the atrocities certain individuals have committed.  But I don’t hate our soldiers.  I would never say anything bad about one of our troops just because they are one of our troops.

It was a strange revelation to drive to.  That something about me or how I was raised has taught me (and any of my peers I can think of offhand) to respect our women and men in uniform, regardless of how I feel about the job they are doing.