The High Stakes of Visibility for Transgender People
This post was written by Joshua Clapp, seminarian at The University of Dubuque Theological Seminary and Inquirer under care of Mission Presbytery in San Antonio, Texas.
“Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “today—yes, tonight—before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times.” But Peter insisted emphatically, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the others said the same.Mark 14:30-31
Later in this story, readers discover that Peter does exactly as Jesus said he would. Peter denies knowing Jesus three times and, when he hears the rooster crow, realizes what he has done. He weeps, realizing that in disowning his beloved friend, he has disowned a part of himself. He hid his identity as a follower of Jesus from the world because he was afraid, and he had a good reason for that.
How many times have we hidden something about ourselves out of fear? We wear clothes that make us look good or we pretend to like things to belong. We disown parts of ourselves out of fear of being disliked. Our pride or even, sometimes, as in the case of Peter, our very lives are at stake.
As a transgender man, I hid my true self for 35 years. My outward self did not fit me. Hiding became my safety blanket and, even four and a half years into my transition, I still find comfort in hiding at times.
The ability to be visible is a privilege, and I am privileged. I “pass” as a man so, in that sense, my invisibility is also a privilege. Even in Texas, I have experienced little opposition to my identity. I have a humbling amount of support from friends and family. I am an openly trans youth director at an amazing church, and I don't take that privilege's magnitude lightly. As privileged as I am in my ability to be safely visible, I can feel as afraid as Peter may have on that terrible day so long ago.
On Saturday March 30th in San Antonio, I participated in the 2nd annual March for Us event for a trans visibility. This was my first ever march. I felt a sense of pride going into to this march with an overwhelming gratitude to be a visible as a trans man and as a follower of Jesus. I wore my Youth Ministry shirt with a trans pride flag draped over my shoulders as a superhero cape. At the same time, “what ifs” and fears overwhelmed my logic. In Texas, where I live, the stakes are high. What if anti-trans folx show up? What if they take it too far and visibility costs me my life? Quickly, the "what if" passes, replaced by another: What if not being visible cost someone else their life?
Statistics show that just one accepting adult in a trans child's life can reduce the risk of suicide by 40%. Currently, in Texas, trans youth are less able to be visible due to recent laws banning gendering affirming care to minors. The thought of a hopeless child committing suicide gives my “superhero cape” a new meaning. Sometimes privilege comes with responsibility. As followers of Christ, we are called to serve as Jesus served. Those of us with privilege can serve by stepping out of our denial and showing the world who we are. I am Josh, transgender and a follower of Jesus.