So today I got the opportunity to be reunited with a guitar from my previous life (Pre-Transition). Side note, this will be the 3rd time I have purchased this exact same guitar! So this is partially a guitar love story fairy tale.
Funny, how even just a visual of Black Betty gave me a rush of feelings and memories. Black Betty and I have always had an emotional connection. This guitar has a life all of it's own. She is perfect in both her qualities and imperfections.
In the moment (a few hours ago) when I saw her (Black Betty), all those memories came back of times we had spent together. On top of memories, I came to a moment of self discovery about the Pre Asher years.
Let me back up a little bit. I got this guitar originally from a guy on craigslist. At the time I was leading worship at a start up church, and I needed a backup guitar. The church I was at (which shall remain nameless), had a wonderful women's ministry. This particular womens ministry, had their own worship band.
First I need to tell you, that gender specific events/gender segregated events triggered my gender dysphoria in the most intense way. The only way I can explain what gender dysphoria feels like (to someone who has never experienced it) is like this...
Have you ever had a secret? The kind of secret that is very personal and private and it makes you vulnerable, and you don't want anyone to know because you already are struggling, and you literally cannot handle anyone else being involved? In fact, at any moment you feel like you might fall off the edge of life, and onto a blade of truth that could end you, and that option sounds like it would be less exhausting than keeping this secret. So for me, as a man, that looked like a woman (a super masculine woman, but a woman nonetheless), always felt the most painful self loathing when put in a group of women. I hated my body, and I didn't understand woman, and I was constantly feeling like I was listening to conversations I wasn't supposed to hear, and seeing things I wasn't supposed to see. As a side note, I avoided public showers and locker rooms at ALL cost. "Thanks a lot purity culture for really messing with my head" #StillBitter
Back to my story. When all those memories from playing Black Betty at this church came back, a very specific memory came rushing to the front. At that moment I had a realization. This moment summed up, and explained so many other time in my life where a recurring scene played out at many different churches. Oddly enough, this particular memory was not even the most dramatic of all the times my gender dysphoria caused me to choose the "Flight", when my "Fight or Flight" button was triggered.
As I was saying, this church had a women's worship team. I was very actively involved in leading. I dedicated my life to ministry at age 13. I loved leasing people in worship! It was one of the very few times in my life that my gender did not matter. In those moments, in the presence of God, we were all created equal in His image. Not male, or female, or jew or gentile, nor slave and free.
So this ladies group I was a part of started to lead worship not just at women's events, but also on Sunday mornings in corporate worship. At some point, the worship leader guy, got all hung up on gender roles, and his poor understanding of the scriptures. One night at practice, he showed up and sat us down to have a "Talk." The worship guy has us "girls" sit down, and stands in a domineering fashion (arms crossed, and alternating with hands on hips). During this talk, he said a whole bunch of conservative, fundamental, hetero normative B.S. This particular moment sent my dysphoria thru the roof. This "talk" made me mad, it made me sick, and it made the discourse between my brain and body feel like it was cranked to a million. The worst part is that I felt like this worship guy, this leader of the church, didn't care. He never once stopped to think that his words made me feel like I wished my life was over because I was so miserable in my own body.
I tried for a few weeks to get past it, but like all the other times before, I couldn't. I packed my guitars and walked away with no explanation, and I never looked back. Just took the match (like all the times before) and I lit that bridge on fire. I lit the bridge on fire because whatever and whoever was on the other side wasn't worth me feeling again like I wanted to end my life. I felt in my soul God loved me for me, but I struggled with the people in my life who claimed to follow Him. I don't believe that the condemnation I felt was conviction from God; It felt a lot like the judgement of men who didn't trust God to handle the people they didn't understand or agree with.
The realization of what happened in that moment strung together in my mind a million other times when I walked away from southern baptist churches I had served faithfully at.
So much has changed for me since those days of destruction. Today I got yet another affirming and encouraging email from my pastor at my current community of believers. I said a prayer of thanks for Jay, and my church family. I said a prayer of praise for having the freedom to transition, and to live in Spirit and Truth. I am so grateful to get to be my authentic self, and I thank God each day for that change.
At this moment, all my emotional nerve endings feel like they are raw and vulnerable, but at the same time, I am grateful for growth moments such as these.
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