“Transgender Day of Remembrance is a day for stories to be told and scripts to be rewritten. It’s a chance to reach out and come together against the dehumanizing violence that haunts our communities. Love is a call as well as a response, but most of all love is an action.” -Angelica Ross
I was 14 years old the first time I held a gun.
My parents had recently divulged that they owned not one, but two, 9 mm semi-automatic handguns. The thought of guns in my house was scary, even if they were kept in small lock boxes, stashed far in the back of my parent’s closet. It occurred to me that even if you have a gun, anyone could find it or take it from you and use it.
She’s not a regular.
I’d been meeting there weekly for almost two months, and I'd never seen her before. It must have been her first time. I was sure I knew all of the unsheltered people.
She asked if I had $2. I didn’t. I still don’t. I choose not to carry cash.
Let me tell you about my new podcast Christian Underhistory.
It's a Christian True Crime podcast.
As we begin the month of October and ghosts decorate our homes, I am reminded of the holy days that await us. Poignant to my own background, Dia de los Muertos beckons us to remember who has gone before us.
Times are rough. Every five seconds, the news tells us something terrible that Trump and his administration has done. White Supremacists have a renewed, public boldness. Social media feeds are landmines of triggering comments about race, gender, sexuality, and many other issues that make up one's humanity.
Over the last few years, I’ve been deeply engaged in work and research that centers on cultivating space where people of all faiths, sexualities, and gender identities can seek to both know and be known. I’ve seen so many people experience spiritual, systemic, and interpersonal harm and sincerely believe that fostering inclusive, equitable communities can help people heal.
In 1988, LGBT activists Robert Eichberg and Jean O’Leary established National Coming Out Day (NCOD), to be observed on October 11—the anniversary of the 1987 National March on Washington for Gay and Lesbian Rights.
Ten years ago if someone asked me to predict my future, I would have said that I expected to married with kids, and involved in some sort of Christian ministry. Ironically, that isn’t far from the truth, except that the specific confines of that prediction had a drastically different outcome than I (or any of my family) ever saw coming.