The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
– 1 Corinthians 1:18
One of the things that well meaning people will do when they learn I have a trans child is occasionally ask, in whispered tones, “How is your kid doing? I mean, the news is so horrible.” And it is true, the news is often horrible. Trans people seem to be the scapegoats for every conservative politician who needs to find a distraction from their own malfeasance. The hypotheticals that these demagogues construct to manufacture fear of the trans community don’t bear up under scrutiny any more than the Vice President’s claim that the current war in Iran is justified because terrorists might show up in the United States wearing nuclear suicide vests.
The reason these stories get told is not because they are true but because they achieve the objective: make people afraid. Some people will be afraid that they will lose something they have or not get something they want. The only reason to fear a trans girl participating in a sport with other girls is the potential for that to erode gendered roles in a patriarchal society. If the concern were really about safety or fairness, Title IX would not be necessary. Because this fear can spark anger and retribution, trans people are often rightly afraid of social, economic, and physical harm.
What this cycle of fear leads to is that many trans people hide, often in plain sight. Either they pass as cisgendered or present themselves with just enough ambiguity and inconspicuousness so as to go unobserved. This is the same dynamic that leads well intentioned friends to whisper their questions to me. Admittedly, I often whisper back. I do fear for the well being of my child in a world that harbors real dangers. But I also lament for what the world is missing by not seeing trans people more fully.
In a culture built on consumerism and, therefore, rife with false narratives constructed by marketing teams, it is a rare and difficult thing to live with authenticity. To do so is “foolishness” to use St. Paul’s term, because it seems like the kind of authenticity that a trans person displays can only lead to trouble. That is what those who are perishing under the suffocating weight of their own fear will tell you. But to those who are being released from the strictures of fear, to live with authenticity is to live in the power of the Divinity.
There were some Greeks who came looking for Jesus at the Passover festival. He was reluctant to meet with them because he questioned their desire to live authentically (rather than simply say they had met the famous guy). Encountering a person living fully into who they know themselves to be can feel threatening to some who do not know themselves at all. The gift that Jesus offers is to allow himself to be seen anyway. On this Trans Day of Visibility, those of us who are not trans are offered a gift by the trans people who allow themselves to be seen anyway.
At the center of that gift is not just the absence of fear but the presence of joy. To see my child, and to see so many people who have persevered through the difficult journey to know the truth about themselves, reminds me of Lin Manuel Miranda’s lyrics as Alexander Hamilton looks at his own child: “Pride is not the word I’m looking for / There is so much more inside me now … When you smile I fall apart / And I thought I was so smart.” It’s foolishness, I know, but it is also life.