Category Archives: LGBTI

Only 700 million women

child marraige poster

“What would she do, anyway? It’s not like she has any real choices?”

Such is the cynical response I’ve often encountered, or variations thereof, when I’m moved by whatever furies impassion me on such occasions to advocate for an end to child marriage. It’s an odd counter argument, as if the normalization of a systemic wrong makes it acceptable – “natural” even. The way things ought to be.

But then again, no. Such cynics feel no need for “oughts” in their world view. “It’s just the way things are, dear.”

I’m writing this in New Delhi, India, a country which in terms of population size has the largest number of child brides on the planet. Granted, it is an uneven picture; in some Indian states there’s been remarkable progress in beginning to diminish this practice. Yet in other states, such as Bihar, the percentage of child marriages is over 60 per cent. It’s illegal, of course. India passed the Prohibition of Child Marriage Act back in 2006, but the political will to enforce this law or to otherwise effect change seems inadequate. A National Action Plan intended to prevent child marriage, drafted by the Ministry of Women and Child Development, has languished since 2013 with no passage in sight. Indian jurisprudence simply cannot decide how to define child marriage. As they ponder, the practice continues.

India is hardly alone. Niger in west Africa holds the ignominious title of worst offender, where 76 per cent of women are married as children. It’s daunting for me to wrap my head around such numbers. Yet the numbers are both daunting and damning; over 700 million women in the world today were married as children. That’s more than five times the entire number of women and girls in my own country, the United States. If you are reading this in the United States, just look at any woman or girl and think of five. Do that again and again, each time you see another female. Your head will be spinning before long. It should be aching, not just spinning. This is a problem of remarkable proportions, yet how often is it discussed by the general public, or cited as a priority?

Almost never. Continue reading Only 700 million women

Why we march

pride flags

Who were these people, and why were they there? More specifically, why would an international research organization — comprised largely of straight, cisgender (non-transgender) women — be present in such large numbers at a celebration of LGBTQI diversity in the heart of the nation’s capital?

To be fair, participating in Washington D.C.’s Capital Pride is special. Several years ago, when I was coerced by friends to come along and watch the march, I was at first intimidated but soon transfixed by this annual festival of unselfconscious exuberance and boisterous display. At Capital Pride, the smiles, warmth and welcome are pervasive. It hadn’t taken me very long to recognize that I was among my people, and that “my people” were a very diverse crowd indeed.

Over the years, I’ve gone from march observer to proud marcher, attaching myself variously over many Capital Pride marches to GLIFAA (the LGBTQI organization of the US government’s foreign affairs agencies), to DC Center Global (a terrific NGO who welcomes LGBTQI refugees and asylum seekers to Washington), or to my faith community, the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Each group brought their own enthusiasm and distinctive character to the march, and in each case, I felt honored and energized to be among them as we marched the 1.5 mile route through 150,000 cheering onlookers. The sheer force of the validation and warmth directed toward those of us who identify as part of the LGBTQI community — or as one of our allies — was captivating, empowering, and…well…fun!

pride - trans

Last year, I marched with the Quakers, and as we found our assigned staging spot and waited (and waited, and waited) in the intense heat and humidity for the march to begin, I could not help noticing the zeal and enthusiasm of the group of marchers who were placed behind us in the staging location. I even recognized several of them, was quickly embraced and found myself the happy recipient of one of their trove of small hand-held “Pride fans” — their gifts to the throngs of onlookers. Little did I imagine that one year later, I would be among them, as a part of their organization. That organization is the International Center for Research on Women (ICRW).

Now — as an employee of ICRW — I haven’t any reason to avoid the question that struck me a year ago — if only for an instant. Why was ICRW at Capital Pride? Why would an organization that has forged a remarkable reputation for sophisticated, high-quality research on women and girls, gender equality and women’s empowerment find common ground with someone like me — a transgender woman — and others in the LGBTQI community? To be clear, I did not have to infer or presume that such common ground existed; ICRW was present in force last June, and will be again next Saturday. Their numbers and their enthusiasm said it all: ICRW is committed to celebrating that common ground.

But why?

As someone who has a relatively unique experience of the world of men — having been socialized and accepted as one for most of my life — the realities experienced by women around the world are sensed only faintly, if at all. The “patriarchy” may seem to be a tired cliché to most men, but for women and girls, the norms, assumptions, privileges and influence enjoyed by men and boys within a world structured around male power and domination are a fundamental fact of life. ICRW has the data to prove this, although few women feel any need to be convinced. What is vitally important, however, is the passionate commitment by those within ICRW — and in the global “women’s” movement more broadly — to the possibility of a better, more equitable world in which gender differences no longer establish ranking, determine access to opportunities, or render half the world as property, sexualized objects, or subjugated vassals. The women and men of ICRW carry a torch for the notion of universal human dignity.

As feminist researchers, we ask the hard questions to shed light on where society must change if that dignity is to be achieved and respected — universally. In short, we accept that we are agents of change, powered by the articulation of persuasive, verifiable, compelling data. It’s how we think and how we see the world around us. It’s what we do and who we are.

No surprise then that ICRW staff naturally and readily enfolds diversity within the universality principle of human dignity. No surprise, too, that ICRW staff — most of whom do not identify as members of the LGBTQI community — still feel an acute solidarity with and care for all minorities who are excluded and stigmatized simply for being minorities. And when it comes to sexual minorities, the only difference is that the data remains grossly incomplete. No one has yet invested the money needed to establish the gaps in social inclusion that LGBTQI people fall into. We have no doubt that the empirical evidence we identify through our future research will substantiate the anecdotal evidence now in wide circulation — that LGBTQI persons around the world face enormous challenges of exclusion, stigmatization, violence, humiliation and abuse.

Until that time comes, and it becomes possible to fill those yawning gaps in data, we will continue to march — proudly and in solidarity with LGBTQI persons — as ICRW women and men whose commitment to gender equity speaks to a deeper commitment. We march for universal human dignity.

Note: This blog first appeared on the website of my employer, the International Center for Research on Women, and can be found there at:

https://medium.com/@ICRW/why-we-march-b1bc87211022

Just one little word.

Trmp medal not copyrighted

Just one little word changes everything.

U.S. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson observed, in a speech to his staff on May 3rd, that: “I think the real challenge many of us have as we think about constructing our policies and carrying out our policies is: How do we represent our values? And in some circumstances, if you condition our national security efforts on someone adopting our values, we probably can’t achieve our national security goals or our national security interests. If we condition too heavily that others must adopt this value that we’ve come to over a long history of our own, it really creates obstacles to our ability to advance our national security interests, our economic interests. It doesn’t mean that we leave those values on the sidelines. It doesn’t mean that we don’t advocate for and aspire to freedom, human dignity, and the treatment of people the world over. We do.”

The word I am hung up about, of course, isn’t Tillerson’s missing adjective before “treatment”, although that does invite speculation. No, it is the possessive “our”. When it comes to human rights – this critically important framework of global peace and hope for the future – the “our” has no national boundaries. There is no “America First” in that “our”. Yet that is not what Secretary Tillerson is saying.

When did human rights, and the foundation of human dignity that such rights rest upon, lose the quality of being universal? Does Secretary Tillerson even notice its absence?

To be fair, Secretary Tillerson did reassure the Foreign Service Officers and other staff gathered before him that the State Department and USAID would continue to advocate for human dignity and freedom, yet he failed to state the reason why. Why ought they to do such advocacy? There is only one reason – because it is the right thing to do. We ought to do it – as a moral imperative – in a political world that has left practically no space open for moral deliberations based on universal ethical principles. In the vacuum left by the failure to deliberate the universal “ought” of foreign (and national) affairs, a very parochial “our” has taken over and left us all in fractured, polarized, hostile, and deeply contested spaces.

Every day, on social media and in political diatribes, in our social circles and even in our faith communities, we are frequently subjected to moralizing (i.e. “my way or the highway”) by the talking heads and tweeting/texting fingers of the extremes of the political and social spectrum. They tell us that their brand – and only their brand – of conservatism, or religion, or liberalism, militarism, progressivism, libertarianism, American socialism, or extreme “America First” jingoistic nationalism, is who we are and what we ought to be about.

Screw everyone else.

That “everyone else” includes some very decent, very vulnerable, very “human” people, but under the prevailing narrative we are supposed to forget about the likes of Amna and Meeno in Saudi Arabia. But more on them later. Continue reading Just one little word.

A modest demand for male engagement

High angle view of a businessman standing amidst businesspeople

Looking on from the outside, the world of “gender studies” or related fields in gender-focused research, gender equality policy and programming, and the panoply of ethical questions regarding gender equity appear to take an almost ritualistic form: women talking to women about women.

Yes, there’s much to talk about, and such discourse is certainly not to be dismissed as superficial or trite – although that’s how our culture often casts women’s discourse. Our culture, and cultures around the world, predominantly reflect the values, priorities, and foibles of a “man’s world” framing. For those of us who hunger for an authentic place in which to be a person with full agency and opportunity, respect and resilience, it can be crushingly hard if we happen to be female or gender non-conforming. No surprise then that so many of us reach out for the healing, fortifying solidarity of women.

And men?

Where is men’s place in the gender discourse? They are seldom physically in such conversations, and probably many feel dissuaded or intimidated from participation given that such gatherings are so overwhelmingly “not male”.  Those men who consciously take on a formal role as a “gender advisor,” or some job-description variant thereof, are few – although generally much fêted by women.

For those of us who work on international human rights advocacy and international development, the dimension of “gender” has been kicked about for more than 40 years in a formal sense. As feminist thinking has evolved, and continues to do so, we’ve sought more effective ways to empower women to find our own pathways to lives of greater dignity, freedom, and choice. Throughout the Global South where traditional gendered social and economic roles are stubbornly resistant to change, and even in the more developed “progressive” societies of the Global North, the quest to break free from the glass ceilings, from objectification and commodification, and to push back firmly against misogyny and pervasively sexualized stereotypes continues with little fanfare. It’s what women and girls (and, more and more, those who are gender non-conforming) do. It’s “the way things are” for slightly more than half of humanity.

Let the women gather and talk…where’s the harm in it?

And the men? What’s their stake in this discourse, and in the pent-up demand for change that it represents? To what extent are conversations among men focused on equity, on universal human rights and dignity, on civil and political rights, specifically in the context of also embracing that half of humanity who are women, girls, and those who are gender non-conforming? Continue reading A modest demand for male engagement

The Invisible Ones in Economic Empowerment

Chloe at East African workshop

As the many important conversations begin at this year’s meetings at the U.N.’s Commission on the Status of Women in New York, I cannot help but reflect that there is no comfort in being on the bottom of society’s ranking. How can we even begin the conversation about human flourishing and economic empowerment when some persons are excluded entirely? How can we speak of universal dignity as the foundation of our values when the dignity of a small minority — lesbians, bisexual and transgender (LBT) women — is conveniently forgotten, or dismissed as statistically insignificant? And we have so little data about “those people”; as far as public policy is concerned those who have not been described within the parameters of research generally have no real presence at all.

Yet here I am.

Accurately capturing the lives of any marginalized minority begins with a reality check, by acknowledging that to a considerable extent every society structures its social order, power distribution and even each individual’s sense of their own worth on the basis of economic factors. Economic status matters, made manifest through wealth and its distribution, participation in governance and influence, access to technology and a very wide range of opportunities, achieving – through savings, land ownership and investments – some degree of security from life’s unexpected shocks, and having the prospect of a secure retirement when one is elderly and frail.

It all must be fair to work.

Fairness is obligatory if we are all to succeed and have meaningful lives, but fairness is a thin and aspirational concept at best. Everywhere, systems of discrimination are deeply engrained, many people are structurally excluded from a reasonable and equitable chance, and attempts to create inclusive, fair, just, collaborative and caring societies remain elusive. Many people are penalized by society’s prevailing values and cultural norms, which monetize certain activities yet ignore other activities that are every bit as essential (and often more essential) to human flourishing. Just ask any mother how fair the world is, when her untold hours of unpaid work caring for her children, family, and community are simply expected while all around her she sees others – mostly men – earning a monetized income, status, influence and power.

It’s far from fair, yet it can be worse for transgender women.

The world of patriarchy relegates women and girls to certain roles, which – if not fairly compensated monetarily – at least are roles that are held in considerable esteem. Societies generally honor mothers and grandmothers, and (with more qualifications) wives and daughters. Feminists everywhere now struggle to revise and expand those roles within the intersecting realities of their respective cultures, while still retaining the dignity and meaning attached to the roles and the women and girls who fill them.

As this important struggle continues, it is worth recognizing that certain people remain absent entirely, or intentionally excluded. Among the world of women and girls, those who are lesbian or bisexual are frequently stigmatized, shunned or even criminalized, and anecdotal evidence indicates high rates of violence directed at them. Anecdotal evidence is often all we have; there has been very little research done about the lived experiences of lesbians and bisexual women. Even anecdotal evidence is scarce, as in most countries the voices of lesbian and bisexual women are faint – women who happen to be lesbian or bisexual are shamed and set apart in their imposed silence. How do we begin to have the conversation about women’s empowerment when we are considering the realities faced by lesbians or bisexual women? Often we simply choose not to begin that conversation; the vast majority of literature on women’s empowerment simply ignores homosexuality or bisexuality entirely.

But where lesbians or bisexual women’s voices are faint, transgender people are effectively silent. Transgender people’s priorities are not about their sexual orientation (which often is not “gay”), but about their fundamental identity. Globally that identity is not recognized by most jurisdictions, and by being deemed not to legally exist, the very idea of a policy discussion about the empowerment of such transgender women falls apart before it begins. Around the world only a very few such women – and I am one of those fortunate few – are able to have our names and authentic gender legally recognized in our identity documents. Without such documents, there are no prospects of participation in the formal economy, in any democratic processes or in accessing basic services that everyone else takes for granted. The empowerment prospects for people whom society formally misgenders are vanishingly few.

What is the way forward? First, we all must restate our commitment to the foundational concept of universal human dignity, upon which any notion of social inclusion must rest. Only with that commitment does the search for those who have fallen through the cracks make sense. Yet the search requires action, and action requires an acknowledgement that a problem exists. That may be easier said than done: transgender women, lesbians and bisexual women, have found their way onto the “lists” of only a few of the institutions whose recognition opens the door to research funding. The World Bank is making some early steps in this direction, with the appointment of a new Senior Coordinator for Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, but the budget that he needs to fulfill his role remains notional for the present. The UNDP has spent some money and carried out some excellent baseline work with sexual minorities (particularly in Asia), and the office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights has been outspoken in all the right ways.

Sadly however UN Women is institutionally reticent to truly engage on the plight of LBT persons. For example, UN Women now lags behind international treaties like CEDAW and other UN agencies in its commitment to work on sexual orientation, gender identity/expression and sex characteristics. USAID and the U.S. State Department began to make some progress in this direction under President Obama, but the prospects for that to continue under the current administration are negligible. The pattern of support from other bilaterals is mixed, and outside of funding related to HIV/AIDS there is very little funding available. Only the philanthropic foundations are engaged, yet their focus is more on advocacy than on gathering essential baseline data on the lived realities of sexual minorities.

If universal dignity is to mean what it must, we cannot afford to leave anyone behind. No one must be allowed to fall through the cracks. While we lack the resources to attend to the empowerment needs of all women and girls, we must start by becoming knowledgeable about those women and girls who appear to be most vulnerable and most in need. Through research, we need to learn about the realities experienced by LBT women and girls, and we must open the policy dialogue to their direct participation.

Note: This blog originally appeared on the website of the International Center for Research on Women on March 13, 2017.

See http://www.icrw.org/economic-empowerments-forgotten-ones/

 

For LGBTQ Americans, Resistance Is Not Futile

Note: This opinion blog by Chloe Schwenke was first published on NBC News on

Demonstrators Protest Against President-Elect Donald Trump
A demonstrator wears a “Love Trumps Hate” rainbow flag during a protest in Los Angeles, California, on Nov. 12, 2016. Patrick T. Fallon / Bloomberg via Getty Images

A new political era is about to begin. What do we do? The harshness of winter has almost certainly dissuaded those who were entertaining the notion of emigrating north to Canada, and we’ve all witnessed with chagrin the various efforts of those who vainly sought to convince the electors in the Electoral College to do what that institution was originally intended for—to stop a demagogue. Is it time to roll over and play dead?

Hardly. As we each reflect on the years ahead, the post-election mood among many LGBT people and our loved ones and allies ranges from seething anger to disempowering dismay. Along with most other minorities in America, the prospect of this new Administration taking up the reins of power across the federal government—and similarly hostile leaders in many state governments—raises important questions about protecting fundamental civil and human rights. While Trump himself has seemed equivocal on LGBT equality, he has filled his Cabinet and West Wing with anti-LGBT extremists, demonized other minorities, and disdained the democratic norms that serve to protect vulnerable groups.

We therefore have reason to fear the new Administration and Congress could roll back (or simply choose not to enforce) numerous critical protections for LGBT people’s health, safety, education, employment, and participation in public life. The reality is inescapable; things will soon be very different in Trump’s and Pence’s White House, and in the 70 percent of state legislative bodies that will now rest firmly in Republican control. We can’t afford inaction or passively waiting until the worst happens.

As many people have already pointed out, the silver lining in this moment is that harsh but empowering jolt of electricity many of us have felt, especially those of us who may have been taking our rights for granted. After all, only 55 percent of the voting age electorate actually turned out, and most did not vote for this incoming President. So now we are all called to action—urgently—and it is very hard to overstate how much is at stake. For transgender Americans, our recently gained access to health care and insurance, protections that have been transformative for many transgender students, housing and employment protections, and efforts to rein in police misconduct and protect trans immigrants are all on the line.

You—yes, you reading this—need to do something. Urgent action, to be effective, needs to be directed, coordinated, sustained, constructive, and positive. Here at the National Center for Transgender Equality (NCTE), we will be very busy in the weeks and months ahead giving you detailed information regarding policy and legislative issues of importance to our community. With that information at your fingertips, we’ll strongly urge you to reach out to your representatives in Congress and in your state governments, as we’ve done again and again in the past. So will many of our partners.

That’s what we do as an advocacy organization…only now, it matters more than ever.

It’s become fashionable to demonize our political opponents, as our society moves more and more into polarized factions—each with our own sources of selective news and opinions designed to reinforce our current views and excoriate the other side. In the process, the very human stories that bind us all together fail to get communicated to those who most need to hear them. The fundamental message of LGBT advocates is that we each embody a narrative of human values at the very heart of what it means to be human. We were born to be ourselves, and to be and to love as we must—authentically. So fierce resistance to political strategies aimed against us must be complimented by bringing our very human narrative forward in ways that soften the hard shell of those who act from transphobic bias, ignorance, and harmful ideologies. We need to be ourselves now more than ever, proud and determined and here to stay. Being ourselves is our political message of resistance, and its power is not to be underestimated—but only if we act.

Call your representatives. Write to them. Do it often, speak with intensity and courage, and speak with an intention not only to draw a line in the sand but also to open up hearts and minds. No matter where they fall ideologically, call and write them. If they’re a hardline opponent, they need to be softened with constituent pressure. If they’re already a supporter, they need to be pressed to defend us vocally at every step. Organize a meeting at their office—or if they won’t meet, a protest.

The worst tactic for us now is to assume there is nothing we can do. While expecting politicians to change their ideological stripes may be a fool’s venture, expecting them to revise some of their less well thought out attitudes and values about us may be just enough for now. Those who won’t learn in their hearts will still respond to pressure if we keep building it and moving public opinion. We need you, week in and week out, to participate in making our case, push back, tell our stories, and keep changing the hearts and minds of people across this country.

In his farewell address last week, President Obama spoke of the power of ordinary Americans to bring about change, to carry the hard work of democracy forward. In his words: “I am asking you to believe. Not in my ability to bring about change—but in yours.”

Chloe Schwenke is the Senior Advisor at the National Center for Transgender Equality, the nation’s leading social justice advocacy organization winning life-saving change for transgender people.

 

The storm that is already upon us

storm-at-sea

Angry political seas are churning in Washington.

Progressive civil rights organizations are mobilized as perhaps never before, building and expanding coalitions and urging the public to awaken to what is now rapidly taking shape, and how threatening it is to us all. Activists are trying as hard as we can to chart some safe, sane course that doesn’t leave our country – or at least the most vulnerable in our country – smashed upon the jagged rocks of public indifference, political arrogance, and ideological purity. We’re not doe-eyed do-gooders baking cookies for the church fundraiser; we’re battle-hardened experienced realists who are sadly all too aware that the storm we are just beginning to feel in force will result in many, many casualties. We know that we’ll lose in many and perhaps most of our efforts to overcome this mindless devastation, but we look for even small opportunities to prevent or diminish the suffering ahead, to speak out in solidarity with the most vulnerable among us, and to preserve and live out what remains of the best values that have historically defined us as Americans.

It may all sound both dire and slightly heroic, a David and Goliath struggle that will in time become the stuff of legend. The daily reality is something very different. Each day as I go to work at the National Center for Transgender Equality, I know that the hours ahead will be long and hard and that – at best – any progress we make on behalf of protecting the very threatened rights and quality of life of transgender people will be incremental. There will be hours of engagement with the staff of Senators and Representatives, strategy meetings with coalition partners across the civil and human rights spectrum, research and reaching out, and communications. And while all of this goes on, powerful waves of malevolent force will be thundering down upon us and our efforts. Those waves are already here, in force, as we see in the mindless urgency to repeal the Affordable Care Act before any replacement plan is proposed, completely insensitive to the suffering that millions of America’s poorest will face. Transgender persons are disproportionately represented in those ranks of the poor, with recent survey data showing 29% of transgender people living in poverty compared to 14% in the larger U.S. population. Those angry waves seek to defund Planned Parenthood, an essential provider of health services to women across the nation, and the largest single provider of health care to transgender Americans.

The choice of a storm metaphor makes perfect sense to me. There is great force and weight to a storm, but only the most rudimentary direction. A storm lacks logic, rationality, or compassion. It is often accompanied by darkness and cold. It feels unrelenting, and those who are in its path will suffer, or worse. Continue reading The storm that is already upon us

Despite it all…

tidal-wave

For the first time in years, I actually bought one of those magazines at the check-out counter at the grocery store. You know the ones – they jostle in their gaudy colors, their provocative titles distracting (and generally irritating) overwhelmed shoppers like me. Yet for the first time ever, one of those better-known, thankfully non-gaudy magazines features (provocatively) a transgender girl on its cover – absent any subtext of outrage, disgust, or rejection. A girl, right there on that cover, just being herself. Whew…what a relief, and what a blessing.

Thank you, National Geographic.

Some upbeat news at the end of a very hard year is indeed a welcome Christmas present. And there is no pretending that 2016 has been OK; it hasn’t. For me this year has been marked by vulnerability, stigmatization, worry, financial insecurity, and exclusion. It’s been a year of first-hand encounters with ageism and transphobia, again and again and again. It’s sadly telling that this will be the first time in decades that I’m not sending out Christmas cards – it’s been that kind of a year. So yes, I’m glad to see 2016 go away, even if I’ve very little reason to hope that the coming year (the coming four years, really) will be any better for many, many people who are facing not only various emboldened forms of exclusion and stigma, but also the possibility of losing their health insurance, seeing their civil rights eroded, watching our country engage in bellicose and ill-judged international engagements, and standing aghast as our environmental protections go down the drain.

Somehow though, I’m feeling ready. Bring it on. I’ve made it this far, and there’s no stopping me now. And I sense I am not alone in that determination…

That simple magazine cover (and its well-written contents) reminded me of something that I sorely needed to be reminded of. There are good people “out there”, open to learning about and boldly – intentionally – embracing a new world of diversity in which people like me are accepted and even valued (my friends have been saying that consistently, but you know how a funky mood in a bad election year can shut down even the love and wisdom of terrific friends). But being around loving family and friends does make a huge difference, as does finding some income-generating work (and I have just found some, at least for a while), and maybe those Christmas carols and the cards I’ve received have also shone their rejuvenating light into the darkness. Whatever…I’m feeling more upbeat now than I have all year. Continue reading Despite it all…

Risking existential authenticity in the Trump Era

cliff-edge-2

It’s existential.

There’s a word that’s overused, often at the center of hyperbole. After all, existential means of, relating to, or affirming existence. In other words, it’s about being – and “being” is where everything ultimately comes down to. That’s a very big notion.

Is being transgender existential? After all, every human being is more than our gender, sex, or gender identity. Some of us are short, athletic, graceful, coordinated, musical – there are nearly innumerable attributes that might define or describe very important aspects of who we are – but these are not existential attributes. Our core identity will not collapse if a late burst of growth in our teen years catapults us from short to tall. We won’t cease to be ourselves if we lose our athleticism through aging or disability. We may grow less graceful, coordinated, or even less musical, but we are still ourselves.

Many cisgender (non-transgender) persons incorrectly view the transgender journey as a path toward a chosen set of attributes – in effect, the intentional construction of an alternative (or radical, or fringe, or delusional, or irrational, or…) lifestyle. For similar reasons, many cisgender folk will question the centrality of any decision, or self-identification, that some persons adopt which places them outside the gender binary – a binary that has defined humanity since time immemorial. To them, being transgender or being outside the gender binary (which are not necessarily the same thing), are at best  harmless, silly, or inconvenient contrivances. At worst, it’s immoral, sinful, an abomination to be rejected.

Take it from me: it’s existential.

Or, if you would rather look for further validation, consider the appallingly high attempted suicide rate that afflicts so many transgender persons. Reliable data places the rate of attempted suicides among the general U.S. population at 4.6 percent, but among transgender or gender non-conforming people this rate soars to 41 percent. For many, many transgender persons, life in the wrong gender is unsustainable. We simply can’t go on another day like that. It’s traumatic, and it’s existential.

Yesterday I spent the day in Baltimore, Maryland at a gathering of faith leaders (clergy, and others who play a leadership role in communities of faith) organized by Transfaith to build community, solidarity and share each others wisdom and strength in the healing work of helping transgender persons overcome trauma. Nearly all of us who gathered there were self-identified as transgender and/or gender non-conforming, and we each had found our various ways to survive the journey across (or beyond) the gender boundaries that had been imposed upon us at birth. We had survived, through coping skills and grit and resilience, and we continue to exist…we’ve moved toward lives of existential authenticity. We’d found support and affirmation among our own faith communities – as I had among the Quakers. Some of us however had been forced to find new communities of faith, having grown up in faith traditions that have no tolerance for us. Continue reading Risking existential authenticity in the Trump Era

Musings of an “East Coast liberal elite” on Thanksgiving

thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving, and so far I have sat mute as numerous messages have reached me across the Internet from friends and family, effusive in their gratitude for the many blessings that characterize their lives and relationships. These are sincere, warm, caring messages, and it is wonderful that this holiday opens the door to such expressions. Throughout the rest of the year, none of us says “thank you” nearly enough.

This year, however, I have not found the words inside me to be warmly responsive to these sentiments. Maybe I am just in a funky place…which might be forgivable in my current circumstances. I’m still trying – without measurable success – to make any sense of the recent presidential election, as the American political landscape seems to have entered into a place of irrationality and deep division. While the world around me seems very insecure, my own personal world also has more than a fair share of insecurity.  I’ve been unemployed (not counting a few consulting assignments and some modestly-remunerated adjunct teaching) for the past two years, despite my monumental efforts to find a new job. Success in securing employment eludes me. My small savings long ago were depleted, and despite many job applications still “pending” my prospects continue to look bleak. So…I am finding myself blocked from that congenial space in which to muse upon my blessings. I might take some small satisfaction in laying some blame for my plight on ageism and transphobia, but placing blame won’t change a culture that excludes well-qualified people from employment opportunities simply because they are mature, experienced, and living authentically.

Still, I know all too well that I am blessed.

I do indeed have much to be thankful for: my health, my family and friends, my Quaker faith community, my excellent education, my life’s narrative of so many international adventures, my growing and inspirational global community of LGBTI persons and allies. I should even be grateful for my cat…he’s a good cat.

Optimistic, idealistic do-gooders are generally not esteemed in society (cats or no cats), especially by those of a more hard-edged, pragmatic character. Still, I am grateful for my resilient idealism, despite the many knocks along the way. Among these ideals that mean the most to me are two: 1) that human dignity is universal, and 2) that ethical leadership makes all the difference in getting to a place where societies honor that dignity…for everyone. Continue reading Musings of an “East Coast liberal elite” on Thanksgiving