Can I Trust You With a Secret?
Disclosure, revelation, exposure, or whatever word you may have for it is a visceral, frightening process. Especially if the information is so sensitive, some would prefer death by flaying. But in fact, that is what disclosure is all about, peeling away the layers that hide the “body” of truth. Perhaps that is why it can be so traumatic.
On October 2007, I began disclosing to family and friends that I had been diagnosed with acute gender dysphoria—that I was “transgender.” I had already lived eight years with this verdict; it took me that long to reconcile myself and my faith to my diagnosis. The news shocked everyone; only my wife knew my secret.
Ever since I put my faith in Christ at age twenty, I had prayed to be normal and coped with this secret, ugly, persistent, cursed, and yet unnamed condition by spiritualizing it; maybe it’s more accurate to say by “demonizing” it. (I had no name for it because the word transgender was unavailable until around 1990.) But not even placing my faith in a savior and doing all the things a Christian “soldier” is supposed to do, like putting on the armor of God and claiming victory over a defeated enemy, doing anything to stop the battles from raging.
As I look back on those years, the amazing thing is that this conflict was so well hidden. It’s as if this war occurred on another planet or in a parallel universe. The curtain was drawn, and the wounds were shoved deep down to hide the evidence.
There is this idea among Christians that if you act right, look right, and live right, everything will work out. It’s not true. Didn’t Jesus accuse some who held this view of being nothing but white-washed tombs full of dead men’s bones? That is how I felt: squeaky clean and spiritual on the outside and complete chaos and confusion on the inside; integrity quotient: zero.
Does this mean no simple black-and-white “Christian Guidelines for Dummies” exist? Well, actually, no, there aren’t any simple answers. That is not to say there aren’t some radical one-liners with the power to change the course of history. I can think of several, but just one will do: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Frederick Buechner, the author of “Telling Secrets,” adds: “and love yourself as your neighbor.” But I digress; I was talking about disclosure, yes, and secrets.
To make my point, let me bring a more positive note to this conversation. Instead of thinking about a horrible secret, let’s talk about a wonderful, beautiful secret. One that gives you goosebumps just thinking about it. Maybe it’s how you felt the first time you fell in love with someone and nobody, but nobody knew—especially the one by whom you had been smitten. (If you’ve never felt this, let me tell you, it’s ga-ga-land amazing!)
Now, think back and try to recall some of the emotions you felt and how the palms of your hands sweated and your heart raced every time you thought about them. Then remember the moment you told them and how that felt. If you are anything like me, you may have felt a combination of nausea and ecstasy—all simultaneously, followed by a moment of surreal transcendence.
Still thinking about emotions, now substitute this secret love with a horrible secret, one that, instead of giving you goosebumps, makes you cringe and gag with shame. Now imagine picking up the phone to tell the person(s) you love the most this explosive truth. What emotions might you experience?
Physiologically, you may experience similar things, such as a pounding heart, nausea, and fear. Not just any fear. I’m talking about the anxiety that may propel a person to jump from the twentieth floor of a burning building. The type of fear that is highly irrational on one level and extremely logical on another — the logic that says, “This will spare you any more pain.”
Now imagine repeating this disclosure a dozen or even a hundred times. Could you do it?
Coming out as lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) can be this traumatic. While disclosure may be one common experience for all LGBT persons, it is several levels more intense for transgender persons.
The reality is that for most, the process has to be done twice; once, when you disclose that you are transgender, and once when you present yourself for the first time as the gender you identify as. In my case, as a woman.
The sense of vulnerability is akin to disrobing in front of people. Then, just when you think the whole world knows or has seen what you look like, you get a call from an old friend (or distant relative or client) who knows nothing about your new life and needs to meet with you. It doesn’t matter how often you’ve done it before; even if everything turned out okay, it’s just as heart-stopping scary every time you do it. It has no thrill; you just want the earth to open up and swallow you whole.
In many ways, it’s much easier to deal with strangers with whom you have no history. It’s counterintuitive. The truth is that our family and friends should be our source of support, who can inflict the most pain.
I have been thinking a lot about this lately, not just because it has happened to me again recently, but because I get several weekly emails from total strangers who bare their souls and tell me their secrets, including pastors and church leaders. These men and women are terrified of what will happen once their secret is out; it’s the primal fear of abandonment and rejection.
When as many as 50% of transgender persons are rejected by their families, many of them wonderfully squeaky clean on the outside church people, you can understand why 41% of transgender persons admit to having attempted suicide at least once.
I am therefore profoundly touched by the level of trust these frightened souls place in me — most of all, I admire their courage — for I know their heart was racing, and they felt nauseated as they wrote their email and pressed “SEND.”
If you have previously thought being transgender is a deviant lifestyle choice, let me ask: Who would choose such a thing, given the gloomy statistics?
If the abandonment, rejection, and judgment of transgender persons will ever end, I believe it will be up to people of faith to make that choice. It really is in our power to love and embrace.
That’s what the Bible shows us, and it’s what I had to do for myself.
