On November 19, I was given the opportunity to speak in front of students in grades 6 through 12 at a local, religious school. They were holding their weekly chapel service and wanted to honour the Transgender Day of Remembrance, which occurs on November 20, therefore, I was asked to come and tell my story. It was truly an amazing experience. It was hard to read a room full of teenagers, however I'm told that many were leaned forward in their chairs, eyes widened as I spoke, and there were plenty of heads nodding.
I offered to stay for conversation following the chapel service. Not expecting much of a response, I was extremely surprised that over 20 students had gathered into the classroom to have a discussion with me. Hand after hand went up wanting to ask questions. There was everything from "how did you know you were transgender" to "how do you talk to people who don't understand". I was impressed that questions arose directly from the speech that I delivered, which told me that, in fact, people were listening and paying attention to what was being said. It was all quite humbling.
Ultimately, we ran out of time to cover all of the questions. I was asked if I'd be willing to come back for a second question and answer period. Of course, I said yes and I hope that it really does happen. It felt so good that I could provide a safe place for these students to ask their questions.
The whole day was an entirely new experience for me. While I've had one-on-one conversations with people, this was the first time I'd been asked to speak in front of a large group, let alone teenagers, and then provide a time for questions. I was ridiculously nervous leading up to and throughout the whole event, but by the end of the day, I was reminded of why I've decided to be so open and transparent about who I am. One of the most important things we can do for young people who are questioning, who identify as transgender, or who want to be allies for their friends is to be present for them and to allow them the space to ask their questions.
I'm not going to share all of the questions and answers, but by divine circumstance, the question that closed the day out was biblical and I thought it deserved a reflection here. The question was, "how do you respond to the argument that God created male and female?" The answer to that question can be found in the creation story. God created land and sea, day and night, and male and female. But God also created everything in between like marshes, swamps, dusk, and dawn. There is nothing on the earth that God did not create. I closed by reminding the room that, ultimately, the one thing that God cares about is love - love for God, love for our neighbour, and love for ourselves. In the end, love is all that matters.
Here is the speech that I gave at the chapel service. For their privacy, I've removed all identifiers of the school.
Good morning,
My name is Reverend
Theo Robinson. Thank you for giving me space today to speak to you ahead
tomorrow’s Transgender Day of Remembrance.
I am an Anglican priest working in a
Lutheran shared ministry that serves 7 parishes in 5 towns throughout the
Interlake region of rural Manitoba. Which is really just a long-winded way of
saying I spend a lot of time in my car.
I’m a family man, raising two teenage
children alongside my partner, and we have a handful of pets – 3 cats and 2 dogs.
While working full-time in my previous
career, unrelated entirely to the church, I studied part-time at the University
of Winnipeg, earning my bachelor’s degree in theology. I’m a now student at the
College of Emmanuel and St Chad in Saskatoon, having just started this year
working towards a master’s degree in theological studies. I keep going back to
school because I believe that it’s important to never stop learning.
I am also a transgender male.
Considering the reason I’m here today, you
might wonder why I listed that descriptor last. Well, simply put, despite how
public I am about being a transgender priest, it’s not the only thing I want to
be known for. There is so much more to who I am than being transgender.
In fact, it took me 40 years to figure out
that I am transgender, and many things happened to me during that time. I was
raised in the Roman Catholic Church but had an on-again, off-again relationship
with my faith and my belief in God. As a young child, I went to church mostly
because it allowed me to spend time with my grandma.
I came out as a lesbian in my early 20s
and eventually met the woman who would become my wife. We decided that we
wanted a child and that I would carry the baby. The first pregnancy was
unsuccessful, and the event became, for me, an emotional first step back
towards the church.
Shortly thereafter, I met a woman who
happened to be in the last steps of becoming an Anglican priest. Having grown
up in the Roman Catholic church, meeting a female priest was outstanding and I
was drawn to attend her parish. Throughout 2009, I found myself joining the
Anglican church, having found a renewed faith in God and love for Jesus.
Eventually, my wife and I separated, and I
met my partner and her child, who I am still with today. Throughout this time,
I heard my call to the priesthood, which meant going back to university, at
which I didn’t do so well the first time around. I had attended the University
of Manitoba for three years, trying three different degrees, and eventually
dropped out. I was terrified to start over again in my 30s on top of working
full-time.
So, you see, I am so much more than a
transgender man. Discovering who I truly am felt like just one more step in
this crazy thing we call life. In fact, until 7 years ago, I didn’t even know the
word transgender. So, I never imagined that I would be standing here in front
of you, today, talking about the Transgender Day of Remembrance.
For those who don’t know, the words “trans”
and “transgender” are interchangeable. The prefix “trans” means to change, so
“transgender” means to change genders. Someone assigned one gender at birth but
now identifies as another gender is considered to be transgender. And this is
not a bad thing. The doctor didn’t make a mistake. God
didn’t make a mistake. It’s just something that might happen to a person as
they discover who they are. Would you fault a caterpillar for turning into a
butterfly?
The Transgender Day of Remembrance was
started in 1999 by trans advocate Gwendolyn Ann Smith as a vigil to honor the
memory of Rita Hester, a transgender woman who was killed in 1998. The vigil
commemorated all the transgender people lost to violence since Rita’s death and
began an important tradition that has become the annual Transgender Day of
Remembrance.
Now, I want to take a moment to highlight
that this vigil was arranged by an advocate. It is exhausting for an oppressed
community to do all the fighting for social justice. Sometimes, the allies and
the advocates need to take over, to shoulder the burden of battling for simple
human rights like being able to live without fear of being harassed, bullied,
or murdered.
According to Miss Smith, “Transgender Day
of Remembrance seeks to highlight the losses we face due to anti-transgender
bigotry and violence. With so many seeking to erase transgender
people — sometimes in the most brutal ways possible — it is vitally important
that those we lose are remembered, and that we continue to fight for justice.”
Now, remember, this was said back in 1999.
It sure would be nice if, 25 years later, we wouldn’t need talk about
anti-transgender bigotry and violence anymore, but the list of transgender
lives lost continues to grow every day. Bigotry and violence are on the rise
worldwide, and even here in Canada there isn’t anywhere that you could say is
100% safe. According to Forbes Magazine, 320 trans and gender-diverse people
were murdered in 2023, most of them transwomen. 4,600 murders happened over the
last 15 years.
It can be hard to picture what these
numbers mean but imagine the entire student body of this school being murdered
over the span of a year. It would be catastrophic to this community. And it’s been catastrophic for the
transgender community. In fact, the actual number of deaths could be far higher
because so many hates crimes and murders go unreported or are misrepresented in
the media. Not to mention that number doesn’t include deaths by suicide,
usually caused by bullying, or harassment, or being rejected by friends and
family.
It all seems very bleak, and it makes you
wonder why anyone would want to live this way. But we must have faith. For the boy
who might not feel right in his body so he makes a small change like wearing
different clothes or growing his hair out…for him, we must have faith.
For the young woman, who even after making
small changes, doesn’t feel right so she starts hormone therapy to change her
body…for her, we must have faith.
For anyone who makes the courageous
decision to have surgery to medically transition, taking the risk that there
might be complications, so that maybe, just maybe, when they look in the mirror,
they finally see the person they know themselves to be…for them, we must have faith.
For all the people who are just trying to
live authentically, we must have faith that the world can be made into a safer,
more inclusive space. And it doesn’t take much to do so. Something as simple as
churches, schools, and any other public buildings having single stall washrooms.
There are those who protest this type of change, but just think of your
bathrooms at home…
Trans people have always existed, and we
will continue to exist. And we need all the allies we can get. Once you’ve
decided to be an affirming and inclusive space, it’s important to be public
about that decision. In a world where the risk of living as a
transgender person is increasing daily, trans folk need to know where the safe
spaces are, to know who the safe people are, to know that they are loved and
supported no matter what, to know that there’s a place they can go when they
need an escape. Because they also need faith that there
are good people in the world, and that there will come a day when all trans
people will be safe to live as their authentic selves.
Perhaps you’re wondering how someone can
be transgender and still keep their Christian faith. Perhaps you’re wondering
where I find my faith. It’s pretty simple actually. I find my faith in the
teachings of Jesus Christ. Jesus teaches us about love, compassion,
and sympathy. He teaches us that we are all God’s unique creation, and we all
deserve to live, to be seen, to be loved. Jesus teaches us that we are all
loved, now and forever, and that we are called to share that love with others
and with each other.
Perhaps you’re wondering how someone can
be transgender and still want to be a priest. It was during the discernment
period of my call to the priesthood that my eyes were opened to my authentic
self. Of all the people I needed to tell, there were three conversations I was scared
to have.
First, was telling my mom. I never felt
she was too happy about my being gay, nor did I think she was anything but disappointed
in me for getting a divorce. So, telling her I am a man and would be starting
hormone treatment was not something I looked forward to. Turns out my fears
were unfounded, and she has been very supportive of me.
Next was telling my then-90-year-old Roman
Catholic grandmother. Having some ideas about the Roman Catholic beliefs regarding
the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, I was very scared to tell her, assuming that she’d
want nothing more to do with me. It took everything I had to come out as
transgender to her, but once again, my fears were unfounded. Mostly I think
she’s just happy I’m a religious man, and she’s definitely excited that I’m a
priest.
And then there was my bishop. Remember earlier
I said that I was in the discernment period of my call to the priesthood. I didn’t
really know where the Anglican Church stood on 2SLGBTQIA+ issues. As far as I
could tell, my diocese had never dealt with a transgender person, living
openly, and also wanting to be a priest. And here I was, sitting in front of a
man who could take away my dream to be a priest in an instant. Bracing for the
words “get out” as I told him my news, all I got was, “ok, now what?”
To be clear, despite my fears along the
way, I had it pretty easy. Almost everyone I came out to accepted me, asked me
what they could do to support me, and have stood by me through thick and thin.
Not everyone has it that easy. Children get kicked out of their homes for
being transgender. People lose their jobs, get harassed, or are killed for
being transgender. Even allies aren’t immune to harassment
for supporting the community. I am aware of allies who have received
death threats for being publicly supportive of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says “I am
the light of the world”, calling on those around him to follow his light out of
the darkness. It was through the fact that my mom, my grandma, and especially
my bishop didn’t turn me away that made me realize my call to the priesthood
held a second calling – to be a beacon of light to others. I realized that my call to follow Jesus is
one of transparency, of being completely open and honest about myself as a way
to make the unknown familiar and to create a stepping stone to reconciliation.
For too long, the church, society, and the
world, has asked those of us who are transgender to put our lights under a
bowl, to keep ourselves hidden away as if we were a dirty secret. My hope is
that if I put my light on its stand and let it shine, then others will gain the
courage to put their light on its stand as well.
And so, I thank you from the bottom of my
heart for welcoming me here to your school, for giving me the occasion to share
just a small piece of my story, for the opportunity to bring to light the
importance of the Transgender Day of Remembrance, and for the chance to put my
light on its stand. May the love and light of Jesus Christ shine through you
today and always.
Thank you.
