A few years ago all of the family went to my sister's house in Virginia for Thanksgiving. Four generations together. I'm particularly fond of my niece Elizabeth. Whenever I hear the verse "Blessed are the pure in heart," I think of Elizabeth. This particular Thanksgiving she was bringing her boyfriend, Gabe. Gabe was a law student at a prestigious school in D.C. and is transgender.
It was a non-issue for our family. We had a delightful, normal family Thanksgiving. Actually, the biggest stressor was the food and all of the diets. Our family has vegetarians, vegans, gluten frees, low-carbs, pescatarians and carnivores. Our Thanksgiving dinner had to be thoroughly labeled.
Elizabeth remembers looking for those little signs of reactions toward Gabe -- searching looks, weird glances. There were none. "Just as I thought," she says. "Anyone in my fold is in their fold. Not just unconditional love, but also unconditional ease." We all had a great time. It's family.
Gabe was assigned female at birth. But from his earliest memories, Gabe thought he was male. When he looked at his parents, he imagined growing up to be like his dad. All his imagination of his future was as a male.
When Gabe discovered he was perceived by others as female, it was a devastating, traumatic realization. Everything in the world seemed wrong. He became keenly aware of others' reactions to him. He wasn't conforming to what everyone else saw. It was devastating to be not seen, pushed and forced to be what he was not.
He remembers going to the store with his younger sister to pick out Easter outfits when he was 4 or 5 years old. "Go pick out what you want," said Mom. Sis went for a dress. Gabe went to the boy's side, picking out just what he wanted -- a red tie and a shirt. His mother's reaction bothered him. "Are you sure this is what you want?" asked mom. "Yes, I'm sure." Sister didn't get second guessed.
Gabe always knew he was male. He always identified as a male. But it took years to be able to live his own authenticity. He experienced times of depression that felt life threatening. At age 25, when he met other people in the trans community who felt the same way as he and were taking steps to deal with it authentically, he decided immediately. He began the transition -- changing his name and pronouns, testosterone therapy and surgery.
"As a female-bodied child, I felt like I was in a nightmare. Every day I woke up in a weird reality that I couldn't shake. Transitioning changed that. I am who I know myself to be. The nightmare is over."
Yet, transgender people live with some fears. They are often targets of violence; many suffer from dangerous depression. The day I talked with Gabe and Elizabeth recently was Transgender Remembrance Day, a day to recall so many who have been killed for being themselves, or who took their own lives because they believed it was impossible for them to accepted and acceptable.
Elizabeth says that whenever they travelled on the highway and stopped to use a restroom, she always waited with some fear until Gabe came out. Gabe says he always wonders, will someone think I look odd? Will they figure it out? Will they be violent?
Fayetteville has a benevolent new law to protect neighbors like Gabe from being fired from their job, denied housing, or kicked out of a restaurant just because of their gender identity or sexual orientation. Some people want to deny these protections.
I wish we could all be as loving and accepting as my family was with Gabe on that Thanksgiving weekend. Everyone was gracious -- my 80-plus-year-old stepdad who gets all his news from FOX; my Navy admiral brother-in-law whose daughter brought home a trans boyfriend; all of our in-laws and outlaws simply accepted Gabe as the fine human being he is.
Gabe now works in his father's law firm and will be sworn into the New York State Bar next week. And he's got a word he asked me to pass along to other young people who may be anxious about their gender identity or their sexual orientation. "It gets better!"
Be who you are. Accept your God-given place in the universe. Get out of the closet and live in the light, authentically. "It gets better!"
And the rest of us? Just love your neighbor as yourself.
LOWELL GRISHAM IS AN EPISCOPAL PRIEST WHO LIVES IN FAYETTEVILLE.
Commentary on 11/30/2014