I recently went on a retreat for activists that focused on 'spiritual strength for the long haul.' The retreat gave me much needed time and space to think about my place in the cosmic scheme of things. It's very easy for activists to loose sight of the forest as we deal with all the trees.
I've been attracted to religion all my life, because that is where our culture says spiritual matters belong, but I've generally been very disappointed. I like the quote: "Religion is for people who wish to avoid going to hell. Spirituality is for people who have been there." (Abraham Twerski, on the back cover of Yehudah Fine's book, Times Square Rabbi.)
I am nominally Roman Catholic, an intolerant religion, but not an intolerant people. It's a tragedy that the winds of the spirit that blew open the windows in Vatican Council II have been stifled by a collection of old men who came to earthly power before 1965. But those winds continue to blow through the Catholic people. There is much hope for the future of catholic spirituality.
In my quest to understand myself and my place in the universe (I like to go for the big picture), I have come to think of myself as spiritual rather than religious. I do not feel that I need intermediaries between myself and the spirit. How can anyone interpret for me, when I am unique (as are we all)? If I am given gifts by the spirit, why should I look to an entrenched hierarchy of experts to tell me what my gifts are and how to use them?
A 'grace' is a gift from the spirit, an enabling, an opportunity, truly a 'blessing.' I do not see my being transsexual as a curse or an affliction, but rather as a grace. I was created transsexual; given something very unusual. Why? What am I to do with this grace?
The first thing I had to do was to accept the gift, the grace. (When the spirit knocks, open the door!) I had to realize and accept that I am transsexual, that I am 'other.' For me that meant I had to stop hiding, stop trying to pass as something I was not. So I embraced my transsexuality, and my queerness, and began living life as I truly am.
That acceptance made me happier and it made my immediate family (my partner and our children) happier. Accepting myself has also made it possible for me to be more involved with my communities. I'm a lesbigatr activist at Michigan State University, am active on the Internet, and have begun speaking to a wider audience about transgender issues. I am also a volunteer in a local children's community theater company and in many other activities more or less directly related to raising and home educating my children.
All that would seem to be enough, really. I'm now a model citizen, a good partner, and a good parent. But I am those things because I have accepted being transsexual and queer. And those gifts are not seen to be positive by many people. So there clearly is something else I can do; I can help all people accept and forgive what they do not understand. This is a lifelong vocation.
I am a bridge. I am a mirror. I am 'what if;' fantasy in the flesh, proof that one's wildest dreams can be real. (For some people I suppose I am a nightmare, proof that what they had hoped was solid and unchanging is mutable.)
When I speak to classes, to small groups, and to individuals, I see the faces reflect thoughts: interest, disgust, embarrassment, desire; the eyes that will not meet mine, the eyes that flirt with mine. Every time I talk to a group of people I effect change. I see it. I hear it, "Before today, I thought...."
This is what I am supposed to do, to help any person who will listen realize that each and every one of us is at home in the spirit, despite difference, because of difference.
It could happen; you could fall in love with someone who is transgender. What do you do about that? What does that say about you?