REFLECTION 19 NOVEMBER 2023

By Fionn McKenzie

In our contemporary reading today, we had words from Alok Vaid-Menon. Elsewhere in the podcast they speak about the weaponization of biology, and how the arguments about biology determining the possibilities of who we can be and what we can do with our lives, have been used in the past to ban women from education and voting, and to vilify people with diverse sexualities. They explain how these arguments, now being turned on trans people, are deeply entangled with the history of eugenics.

White protestants in Europe developed a theory of “race suicide,” which was based on a fear of and non-white, non-Christian immigrants out-numbering them and gaining power and rights. In this context, queer people experienced torturous medical and psychological interventions to “fix” them so they could contribute to reproducing the white race. Fast forward to today, and the USA, where hundreds of pieces of anti-trans and anti-abortion legislation have been introduced or are being drafted. These issues are coinciding because they both undermine the idea that woman = mother, = vessel for reproduction.

When trans people expand the possibilities of gender, and what we imagine femininity and masculinity to be, this threatens this system in the same way that women taking on leadership roles, or work outside the home, or having autonomy over their reproductive organs threaten the system. The threat is both to physical reproduction, but also to the ongoing production of the social and political structures that keep men, specifically white, cis, heterosexual men, holding power. 

The response to this threat is violence. But our response must be healing, compassion, and love.

Alok articulates it better than I will be able to, so you should go away and listen to or read their work, but for now I want to give you one more quote from them. 

“Stop framing this as a minority issue and reframe this as a universal attack on self-determination. Every one of us should be able to determine our own gender. No one else should be able to tell us what we should look like, how we should act, and what we should do with our bodies, so we need you to show up in this moment, not just as acts of allyship, but out of an insistence in your own dignity, your own capacity to transform, your own love of self. And trans people are blowing the whistle, and we’re trying to let you know, if they’re targeting us, it’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when. This is endangering the fabric of our democracy.”[i]

Here in Aotearoa, the Disinformation Project published a research report[ii] on the concerning ways far-right ideologies are being normalised and spread here, and threatening our democracy. Professor Marc Wilson, from the School of Psychology, Te Herenga Waka, responding to the report[iii], asks, “How do we get from individuals making decisions about their gender (or what gender even means) to battles for the soul and future of humanity? The report suggests that events such as those surrounding the recent Posie Parker controversy are framed in terms of issues around gender, but also serve as an entry point into a an otherwise hidden world dominated by neo-nazi ideology, and that doesn’t stop at demonizing people on the basis of gender. Come for the gender wars, in the hope that you’ll stick around for the racism and misogyny.” 

Professor Joanna Kidman, sociologist, also at Te Herenga Waka, describes this as “a swarm of hate that gathers and spreads across diverse groups of followers…  Eventually the swarm moves on but it leaves a lasting imprint and that’s risky for targeted groups.” 

I’m sharing these ideas, not because I think that you need to feel personally threatened to be motivated to take action. I think we are gathered in this community because we know how important it is to stand with those who are marginalised. But I think it’s important to see the whole swarm, to notice how it’s gathering and growing, because we need to find ways to disrupt it. I also believe as a congregation established by white colonial settlers, however ethical we may believe those particular settlers may have been, it is important for us to reflect on how we may be part of maintaining structures of power and priviledge. We also need to be aware of how white supremacy, patriarchy and the gender binary harm us all, so that we can take responsibility for our own healing.

Which brings me to what I hope you will take away as an overall theme from this service: the healing and transformative power of radical love. Earlier we heard about how Alok experiences the bravery of their trancestors as an act of love. They have also spoken of how the love they experienced within their family, and from their aunt in particular felt so real and true to them that they knew that the hatred expressed to them online and on the streets couldn’t be the truth.

There is plenty of research that shows that the mental health and suicide rate disparities for queer people evaporate when we exist in spaces that accept us. When we have people in our schools, churches, and families who make us feel their unconditional love, who make love real in their words and actions, it’s less of a struggle for us to survive. Having somewhere, or someone, who makes us feel we belong, makes such a difference.

We’re going to have a poem in a few moments by Jennifer Espinoza, and I was tossing up two different possibilities for the poems. The other poem, Driving Through Fire[iv] has these lines:

“One day I will finally be alive. I can feel it.

I know I will be alive

because life is beautiful and I am beautiful and I belong in it.

I belong in life.

I may not belong in this life, but I belong in life.”

I may not belong in this life. That line has been breaking my heart all week as I prepared for this service.

Earlier the Glamaphones sang “There ain’t nothing that I wouldn’t do, to make you feel my love.” I was thinking about the young people in my family, and all my hopes for them. I want them to always know they are cherished, and never to question whether they belong in this life. My love for them, and my dreams for their future, motivates me to be open and take action in my own gender transition, even though that is painful and feels risky in our current context. I already know from being out as a queer person in the church that it’s harder to hate us when we are no longer abstract. When we turn out to be your child or sibling or someone who you sit beside at a church meeting. I also know that I’ve only been able to learn more about myself because others have been open about who they are, and I’ve seen reflections of myself.

There’s a line in the next song the choir will sing about the “words that don’t come out.” I think any queer person will be able to relate to that experience of this big, complicated mess that is all in your head and your heart, and maybe you only held it all in for a short time, or maybe it was years. For me, it was months, because I’m exhausted. I don’t want to do another hard thing right now. I want to set up camp for a while, catch my breath. But then there is that call from deep inside me and from far beyond me, urging me on this journey. And reminding me of the promise in Isaiah which says “I will be there with you. Even when things are overwhelming, I am right there with you.”

And so sometimes we need to be the ones who show that love and solidarity to others who are struggling and overwhelmed. For those of us who are part of the church, how can we make the unconditional love of God real to those who are still being traumatised, and who feel that love can’t reach them. 

Now, I promised you a poem. I just found out that the Paris review has this advice column, where you can write in about whatever hard stuff is going on, and you get recommended a poem to connect with. Someone wrote in saying “I’m a trans guy with religious parents who are unsupportive when they acknowledge my transness — and they rarely acknowledge it at all. I mainly feel that I do not belong or fit in with my family.” Sarah, who chose this poem, says “Jennifer’s poem is about her body and her body’s story, and it isn’t the same as yours. But I do want you to know that you, too, are solid matter. I cannot see your shoulders from here, but I care about what they carry. I hope you find kinship with people who recognize and celebrate you choosing a courageous, honest life.”[v]

It’s a poem about resilience, and connection, and after that we’ll have another song from the choir that also speaks to those themes. I invite you to think about who in your family, community, or further away needs to feel the love of God, or the love of kinship, connection, community. What lines are you willing to cross to make them know they are loved?

[i] Alok Vaid-Menon, on the At Liberty podcast: https://www.aclu.org/podcast/alok-vaid-menon-wants-you-to-reimagine-gender and https://www.aclu.org/podcast/alok-vaid-menon-on-the-fight-for-gender-freedom

[ii] The Disinformation Project: https://thedisinfoproject.org/2023/05/05/working-paper-transgressive-transitions/

[iii] The quotes from both Wilson and Kidman are from the Science Media Centre expert reactions: https://www.sciencemediacentre.co.nz/2023/05/05/extreme-content-becoming-embedded-in-nz-online-disinformation-groups-expert-reaction/

[iv] J. Jennifer Espinoza: https://www.moma.org/magazine/articles/806

[v] The Poetry Rx: https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2018/12/06/poetry-rx-you-are-the-penultimate-love-of-my-life/ and you can also hear the poet read this poem: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xwcox9traHE

Audio of selected readings and reflections

Audio of the complete service