On Identity

Last week, I had the chance to hang out with one of my favorite artists, Scott Erickson. While talking about art and spirituality and becoming, Scott said “but thank God we didn’t become the person we thought we wanted to be but are becoming a person we never saw coming.” That quote has never felt more true than in this season of my life.

For quite a long while now, I’ve been really uncomfortable in my own body. I wanted to ignore it (with everything in me). And I did. Until I couldn’t. So, with some intentional time to feel all I needed to feel and explore what I needed to explore, along with support from Katie and a really great therapist, I’ve finally figured out that I’m non-binary. 

To me, it’s like your whole life you wore shoes two sizes too small. Wearing shoes, then, wouldn’t be particularly comfortable, but it’s something you know you have to do to be outside, to connect with people, to live fully. And everyone’s a little uncomfortable in shoes sometimes, sure. But without knowing your pair is just too small and there’s something that would fit better, you can fall into the trap thinking this is how it has to be. 

This is what gender dysphoria feels like for me. Mildly subtle in some ways. Crushingly constant in others. Sarah McBride describes it like homesickness, such a deep longing for somewhere you’re not until you finally get to where you belong. Or Elliot Page describes it like an untangling, especially as he came out as queer and only later discovered he was trans. No matter how you describe it or if you understand it or not, this is something I realize I’ve tried to balance my whole life. 

As Amelia was making her way into the world, I was met with an abrupt sense of shifting, unveiling, and transformation. Setting aside the feeling that this was inconvenient or somehow selfish, what I felt most was responsibility. I need to live fully and freely, not just for myself but also as a model for my daughter (see cute picture of this incredible baby at the end). 

So that’s what I’m trying to do. Owning my trans identity has been a rollercoaster. Completely liberating at one moment and painfully vulnerable the next. I wanted to have answers for why I felt this way, how I didn’t realize it sooner, and what it all means. But instead of a flood of answers, I kept thinking about the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8. This is someone who is decidedly queer, pushed out of society because of the short-sighted nature of others. And what do they do? They dedicate their life to finding God anyway. And when a holy moment arrives, they ask to be baptized. And it’s that freedom, relishing in the love of God, that shifts their whole life and encourages them to share the good news in a totally different way than the world has ever seen. Just as God used the Ethiopian Eunuch, I felt God calling me- to something new, something important. I knew I couldn’t ignore this part of me that God created and called good. 

What does this mean for me? I now use they/them pronouns. I’m still proud to be Katie’s spouse, Amelia’s parent, Zach’s best friend, Renee and Jeff’s child, Natalie and Nathan’s sibling, Newport’s pastor, and above all else a beloved child of God. I’m the same person, just a little more me now (a great phrase I picked up from this cool song by another non-binary person that’s meant a lot to me in this transition).

What am I looking for from you? Rest assured you don’t have to have it all figured out or be perfect from this moment forward. I’m asking for respect and accompaniment. Most importantly I’m asking for honesty. Will you support me? Will you affirm me? 

I’ll be honest I’ve been pretty scared to share this. While this journey is beautiful and magical and healthy in more ways than I can tell you, it’s still hard to share “this is who I am” and not know what I’ll receive in return. But as I’ve wrestled and grown (work that will never be “completed”), I’ve felt a strong call to share my story. When I came out as queer 7 years ago, I was blown away by the countless comments I got. “I needed to hear this.” “I thought I was the only one.” “I didn’t realize I could be gay and Christian.” “Seeing your story has brought me hope in a way I wasn’t sure was possible.” The list goes on. So as I’m navigating this transition (and so many others – shoutout to all the new parents out there), I’m seeing in a new way how my identity is a significant part of my calling. I have a story to share that just might help someone else out there. Being my fullest self is the best way I can love the world around me – and the same is true for you! So here’s my prayer for right now: may we all make the world a better place by leaning in to all of who we can be.