25 Years Later

Photo from abc7.com

25 years ago, almost 3,000 lives were lost when planes crashed into the World Trade Centre, the Pentagon, and a farmer’s field killing thousands of people. Nothing has been the same since. It was a moment that changed the world.

I remember visiting my grandparents in Boissevain, MB and we would drive down to Lake Metigoshe in North Dakota for dinner. It was a real treat! Crossing the boarder was easy, with no more than a conversation. No IDs were checked. No mini-interrogation about why you're crossing the boarder. Nail clippers never used to be considered a dangerous weapon on an airplane, either.

Everything changed on September 11, 2001 and, 25 years later, it's all still the same.

10 years ago, as I was starting out in my theology degree, I wrote a paper about the September 11 attacks. It was probably one of my best papers and every once and a while I read through it, wondering if I could or should something more with it.

As we approached the 25th anniversary of these horrible events, I broke the paper out again. Reading through it, I shake my head because the world hasn't changed much over the last 2 decades. Everybody's at war with somebody. Fear is at an all-time high. And nail clippers are still consider a dangerous weapon on airplanes. Here is an excerpt from the paper:

"The attack on the World Trade Centre was a culmination of years of terrorism and war, disgustingly poor human rights policies, and some extremely faulty foreign policy within the US government with regards to counterinsurgency training and inconsistencies on who qualifies for US aid. On the surface it would appear that the attack was unprovoked and came out of nowhere. But as you begin to unravel the past, you can see a pattern in how the US deals with foreign nations and that it is quite likely that a group of people finally had enough and took justice into their own hands. Through mass and social media we have been essentially forced to accept the US as innocent bystanders who were seemingly attacked for no reason. But if you start delving into some history you will find that the US government was a far cry from an innocent or a bystander. From ignoring blatant human rights issues to taking both sides of a civil war it appears that the US has brought it on to themselves the fact that they are the target of multiple terrorist groups."

What I tried to do in my paper is attempt to show that it was the US government’s own inconsistent foreign policy that resulted in the destruction of the World Trade Centre and the death of 3,000 people. More than 3,000 as we are now aware of the deaths that were caused by health issues from the dust and chemicals that were in the air that day, and the days following.

Discussing such things as the Cold War, the Truman Doctrine, the Kennedy Doctrine, the Nixon doctrine, the Somalia Syndrome, the Rwanda Genocide, the Persian Gulf War, and Bin Ladin and al Qaeda, I feel like I was able to explain how the US became a targeted superpower. It was a fascinating bit of research and certainly made me realize how the events of September 11 were not isolated, nor did they come out of nowhere.

On September 11, the world was changed forever. With the aftermath leading to a two-decade-long war is Afghanistan, and Islamophobia rates skyrocketing to numbers that really haven't come down much since then, we are still feeling the effects of those horrible events, even 25 years later.

Will I break out this paper again in 5 years? 10 years? Only time will tell. But I sure hope things start turning around soon. How long can one country remain at war with the rest of the world?

Two Months Later: A Reflection

I think one of the hardest things about change are the endings. Spending weeks of experiencing a slew of "lasts" was both exciting and heartbreaking. Six weeks from my last service in Manitoba, I sat in a conference room in Gimli, looking around at all the faces that I've grown to love and care for, faces that I will likely never see again. Sure, everyone says they will stay in touch, and we probably mean it, at the time. But the truth is that soon there will be almost four provinces between us, two ecclesiastical provinces, and a multitude of dioceses. We all know that despite the best of intentions, staying in touch doesn't always happen.

I suppose part of my wonderings on that day was whether or not I'd be leaving behind any sort of legacy. Would I be remembered? It's human nature to want to be remembered, to not be forgotten, so I shouldn't have been surprised at these feelings. People kept telling me how much they will miss me, how much the diocese will miss me, and how much of a loss my leaving has created. But was it truth or platitudes? If it was indeed truth, why? What have I done that will be missed so greatly? What kind of person am I that will cause my presence to be missed? What is, or was, my story and why does, or did, it matter?

As I prepared to leave the only life I've ever known, I felt awfully insignificant. And yet, somehow, my story remains newsworthy. The Winnipeg Free Press ran my story one last time - the story of my time as a transgender priest in the Diocese of Rupert's Land. To me, my story isn't that interesting, but everyone seems to be interested in hearing it. Yet when I speak my story, it comes out sounding very boring. Maybe I'm telling it wrong? Do I need to learn how to be a better story-teller?

Despite the fascinating part of being a transgender priest, the rest of my life is relatively dull and normal, and overwhelmingly insignificant. I don't have any abuse in my life. I wasn't kicked out for being gay. I was accepted, to my face anyway, for being transgender. It doesn't feel like I've risked my life or suffered in any way for being my authentic self. This doesn't mean I haven't had awful things happen to me, sad and heart-breaking things, but are they newsworthy? Are they important enough to be part of the story people want to hear?

So, did I leave a legacy behind in Rupert's Land? Perhaps. It's been two months since I left Manitoba and I still haven't been to answer that question. All I can do now is look towards the future and build on the legacy that I want to leave in the Diocese of Islands and Inlets. Onward and upward, as they say.

Orange Shirt Day

The following is a teaching I put together for our Orange Shirt Day service. Within the text, I have indicated my sources.

May only truth be spoken and truth received. Amen.

 

(Quoted from https://orangeshirtday.org/ )

 

In the summer of 2021, the government of Canada declared September 30^th to be a federal statutory holiday called the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. It is also known as Orange Shirt Day. It is a legacy of the St. Joseph Mission Residential School Commemoration Project and Reunion events that took place in Williams Lake, BC, in May 2013.

 

This project was the vision of Esketemc (Alkali Lake) Chief Fred Robbins, who is a former student himself. It brought together former students and their families from the Secwepemc, Tsilhqot’in, Southern Dakelh and St’at’imc Nations along with the Cariboo Regional District, the Mayors and municipalities, School Districts and civic organizations in the Cariboo Region.

 

The events were designed to commemorate the residential school experience, to witness and honour the healing journey of the survivors and their families, and to commit to the ongoing process of reconciliation. Chief Justice Murray Sinclair challenged all of the participants to keep the reconciliation process alive, as a result of the realization that every former student had similar stories.

 

As spokesperson for the Reunion group leading up to the events, former student Phyllis Webstad told her story of her first day at residential school when her shiny new orange shirt, bought by her grandmother, was taken from her as a six-year old girl. Here is her story…

 

READ THE STORY

 

The annual Orange Shirt Day on September 30^th opens the door to global conversation on all aspects of Residential Schools. It is an opportunity to create meaningful discussion about the effects of Residential Schools and the legacy they have left behind. A discussion all Canadians can tune into and create bridges with each other for reconciliation. A day for survivors to be reaffirmed that they matter.

 

(Quoted from “Phyllis’ Orange Shirt”)

 

So, each year, on September 30^th, many people, including Phyllis, wear bright orange shirts to honour residential school survivors and their families. Phyllis’ story is only one among many. We must listen to these stories, and we must learn from our past. By doing so, we can walk into the future without making the same mistakes again. When we wear our orange shirts, we reaffirm that every child matters – the children from every nation around the world, the residential school survivors, and the Indigenous children who didn’t come home.

 

Now some people might be wondering why we still talk about this topic, why we still wear orange shirts on (or near) September 30, and maybe even why we continue to give land acknowledgements before every worship service and every council meeting. Let’s talk a bit about why we still need to talk about truth and reconciliation.

 

(Quoted from https://www.cbc.ca/newsinteractives/beyond-94?&cta=1)

 

In March 2018, CBC News launched Beyond 94, a website that monitors progress on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s 94 Calls to Action. Beyond 94 was the result of a year’s worth of research and interviews with survivors, stakeholders and all levels of government. (According to the CBC website, Beyond 94 was updated as recently as April 2025.)

 

The site provides up-to-date status reports on each call to action, as well as extensive summaries explaining those status reports. It includes in-depth features and short video documentaries that tell some of the community stories behind the calls to action. It also features residential school survivors sharing their experiences. (I strongly recommend you go and explore the website.)

 

In researching the progress of each Call to Action, CBC reached out to relevant governments, faith groups, professional and community organisations for comment. [They] fact-checked each response with invested stakeholders. [They] also cross-referenced federal funding announcements with actual and past financial expenditures. [They] also drew information from past and current CBC stories.

 

Beyond 94 measures the progress of the Calls to Action based on the following;

 

“Not started” refers to Calls to Action in which no action plan has been developed and/or no funds have been committed, to implement the Call to Action.

 

“In Progress – Projects proposed” refers to Calls to Action in which the relevant parties involved have either committed to an action plan or funding, but not yet followed through with it.

 

“In Progress – Projects underway” refers to Calls to Action in which the relevant parties involved are actively working towards implementing that call, with both a timeline and (where needed) the funding to make it happen.

 

“Complete” refers to Calls to Action which have been fully implemented.

 

Now I’m not going to list them all, but I will give you a summary. Of the 94 Calls to Action, 17 aren’t even started, 29 have proposed projects, and 33 have projects underway. Have you done the math? That leaves 15 that are completed. 15 out of 94, since the Calls to Action were created in 2015.

 

And that folks, is why we still talk about residential schools, why we wear orange on September30th, and why truth and reconciliation should continue be at the forefront of everything we do.

Amen.

So Long, Farewell

Photo by Joyston Judah on www.pexels.com

This month, I contributed to an article for the Rupert's Land News that gives me a chance to say goodbye to the diocese that formed me. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

It is an interesting time in both my life and in the life of the Diocese right now. At the time I am writing this story, we are in the process of electing a new bishop, and I am 8 weeks from moving from Winnipeg, a place I was born and raised, to North Cowichan, BC to begin a new step on my pastoral journey.

It’s hard to imagine that I began my relationship with the Diocese of Rupert’s Land over 17 years ago. For those of you in the know, I’m looking at you St. George’s Transcona, that means my oldest child is almost 17 years old. Where on earth did the time go? A lot has changed for me over all that time, and being part of this diocese has been an important piece of my growth as a person and as a priest.

My journey began with a chance meeting of a priest in training — a friend of a friend. I had been struggling with my faith for years and decided on a whim to attend this priest’s church. Why? Because I had never heard of women being priests before, let alone one who rode a motorcycle, and so I was immediately intrigued. I think the most appealing part, right from the beginning, was that they allowed me to return to the church slowly, at the pace that worked for me. That is a lesson that I carry in my heart and pass on to my parishes. While it is important to have people come in the door, it is just as important to let them grow at their own pace and not to try and get them to join vestry, or any other committee, on their first day.

What I received at St. George’s Transcona was also provided to me through the Diocese of Rupert’s Land — a chance to grow as a person of faith, as a person of the collar, and as a person on the whole. I acknowledge that this diocese still has a long way to go, but I honestly feel as if it has grown alongside of me. Whenever I tell me story of coming out as transgender to Bishop Don, people are pleasantly surprised to hear that, rather than barriers, he extended me his full support. Most importantly, he allowed me to continue my pursuit of becoming an Anglican priest.

While people have told me of different experiences in various dioceses, the Diocese of Rupert’s Land has accepted me for who I am. At least, those who don’t have kept quiet about it. I have been allowed to experience all levels of diocesan government right from a lay member of diocesan council up to a clerical representative at General Synod. I have helped organize events, facilitate workshops, and head committees. I have learned so much from the people, lay and clergy, in this diocese, and I have gained plenty of experience. The Diocese of Rupert’s Land has helped to shape me into the person I am today.

While I want to express my gratitude   and pen a farewell letter to everyone I’ve connected with through the diocese, I also have a piece of advice to offer regarding a common question nowadays : why should I go to church? Well, if I hadn’t gone to church 17 years ago, where would I be today? Stepping through the doors of St George’s Transcona all those years ago changed who I was; it  changed the direction of my life. I don’t know if I would have regained my faith if that wonderful church hadn’t opened its doors to me. I truly think if that chance meeting hadn’t happened, I never would have rekindled my relationship with God, and I certainly would never have heard the call to spread the Gospel to others, with or without the collar.

Going to church is like going to the gym. You go to the gym to work out your body, get yourself into shape, and increase your bodily health. Going to church is a workout for your spirit, a place to get it into shape and increase your spiritual health. You go to church to reconnect with God and renew your relationship with Jesus. We falter throughout our lives, losing our way, let our faith slip. We are only human after all. But going to church is how we reset our mind, our soul, and our spirit. Through the prayers, liturgy, ritual, and hymns, we can return to God and strengthen our faith.  Church is also where you go to find a community of people who can enrich your spiritual life. It is a place full of people wanting to talk about Jesus and wanting to experience a life of faith together.

Is that why I went to church 17 years ago? Not consciously, but something inside pulled me to church. I stayed because I found what I didn’t know I was looking for — spiritual peace. I’m still here because I want to share what I found with others.

So, as I pack my life up to head west, I have nothing but fondness and love for the people who helped me start my journey, the people who supported me along the way, and a diocese that gave me ample opportunity to flourish.

So long. Farewell. Goodbye. Until we meet again.

Sharing My Story on the Transgender Day of Remembrance

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.

Professional Sports and the National Anthem

Photo Credit: Lara Jameson on pexels.com

Over dinner one evening, my partner and I were watching a hockey game when the national anthems had just finished and I posed the question, "I wonder why the national anthem is sung at professional sporting events." Although we had guesses, we didn't know for sure so we looked it up.

Upon reading a New York Times article from December 2023, this is what I found:

"The first documented case of an anthem being played prior to a sporting event dates all the way back to May of 1862, when “The Star Spangled Banner” was played prior to a baseball game in Brooklyn, N.Y. The practice then occurred sporadically over the next several decades, with the national anthem being played prior to significant sporting events such as the World Series. Playing the anthem then gained traction during the Second World War. As North American professional sports leagues carried on playing during the conflict overseas, teams started playing the national anthem as a symbol of wartime support and patriotism."

Continuing on with that article, the playing of the national anthem before professional sporting events is a "uniquely North American phenomenon. In Europe, national anthems are reserved for major international competitions, or when an urgent or important national situation arises."

So if the national anthems being sung before professional sporting events began during WWI and WWII as a way to show patriotism, what purpose does it serve now? Is it time to do away with this tradition? Especially when you consider how many non-North Americans play in the MLB, the NFL, and the NHL?

I decided to post the question on Facebook and the answers I got in return were varied but certainly emotional. There is a heartfelt need to defend the importance of the national anthem but the reasoning of it being at the front of a sports game falls into the typical "because it's always been this way." This is a sentence that is the bane of anyone who is working towards change. The grip on to tradition without understanding where that tradition came from is not a reason to keep things the same. A term I learned about recently is "temporal disorientation" which means something along the lines of "we've always done it this way before" but then not knowing for sure if there was a "before" or the reasons why "the thing" is being done.

On the flip side, there is something to be said about ritual and the community that is found within ritual practices. There is a reason church services look similar, having the same parts, more or less in the same order. Ritual practices are important as it forms a way of connecting with God and with each other.

Now I'm not saying that singing the national anthem before a hockey game will bring you closer to God, but it can certainly bring you closer to the person beside you as you sing in unity the song that represents your country.

I'm still not sold that the anthems need to be played at professional sporting events and that it should be kept more for international levels where athletes are actually representing their countries. However, I do understand the need and desire for ritual and the importance behind it. When it comes to the national anthem being sung before a sports game, we've forgotten why it started and have lost the meaning behind it. The audience often boos the opposing anthem and some singers aren't even taking the time to learn the words or the music.

So if we, the general public "we", still find singing the national anthem to be an important ritual to professional sporting events, then let's at least care about what we are singing and why. Even if that means yelling "True North" for us Manitobans and voicing our opinion of the truth behind the freedom in this country. Because even those parts have become ritualistic but at least we know why we're doing it.

In Danger But Not Dangerous

            In 2015, a study was conducted in Ontario that determined transgender people are the targets of specifically directed violence; “20% had been physically or sexually assaulted for being transgender, and another 34% had been verbally threatened or harassed but not assaulted”[1] The transgender community is in danger. Those numbers from 2015 are probably low because many would not have reported their assaults and over the last few years, the quantity of attacks on transgender people have increased exponentially.

The common claim against transgender people is that it is mostly men trying to get into women’s washrooms so that they can commit sexual assault. But really, we just want to use the bathroom in peace. And the reality is that substantially more transgender people are assaulted in those bathrooms than the other way around.

What’s happened is that certain persons in positions of power have done and said things that has given permission by proxy for transphobic actions and attitudes. People are attacked while trying to use the bathroom. Kids are afraid to go to school for fear of bullying. Politicians are making laws that are forcing teachers to out students to their parents. Transgender people are afraid for their lives but instead of finding help, they find resistance.

And in so many of these instances of blatant transphobia, the bible is used as a weapon. Sermons are preached from the pulpit defending transphobic actions. So-called Christians rejected transgender people with claims of "it's a fad", "protect the children", and "God doesn't make mistakes". Transgender people are in danger simply for being themselves.

            The fear that the public is feeling, or perhaps told to feel, is not real (even if “phobia” is in the word transphobia). There is nothing to fear from transgender people. We are not a new concept. Transgender people have been around for centuries. The difference is simply that transgender people are tired of hiding and are more often living out and proud. We are regular, ordinary people who want to live, work, play, and pee without being questioned or attacked. We have friend and families, we have homes and workplaces, and we’ve been walking this earth beside you possibly without you even knowing it.

            The transgender community is not dangerous, but we are in danger. Society is confusing anxiety with threat and that is bringing harm to the transgender community. There is a mentality that being transgender is new and weird, which must automatically mean it’s dangerous. We are being falsely accused of influencing children into having surgeries by wanting gender and sexuality to be discussed in sexual education classes. Social media lends itself to group bullying as groups such as 1 Million March for Children, an anti-queer event in September 2023, used Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter to stir up parents and other supporters to protest having queer-affirming resources and Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity Education (SOGIE) in schools.

            Anxiety around the banality of a transgender person has turned into a misrepresentation of danger. It’s time for this situation to come to an end. We can resist this outrageousness. All of us. We have the power to choose between abandoning the marginalized or standing up for them, “to change the ways we encourage shunning and instead do the work to facilitate communication.”[2] So let’s get at it before another person suffers the indignity of being asked what’s in their pants, another child gets beat up at school, or another teen decides that dying is their only way out.

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[1] Cole, Desmond. The Skin We’re In. Toronto: Double Day Canada, 2020, p.96.

[2] Shulman, Sarah. “Introduction: A Reparative Manifesto,” in Sarah Shulman, Conflict is Not Abuse: Overstating Harm, Community Responsibility, and the Duty of Repair. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press, 2016, p. 27.

Intersectionality: Concerning Labels and Identities

Kimberle Crenshaw is an American civil rights activist and a Professor of Law at UCLA. A graduate of Cornell University, Harvard University, and the University of Wisconsin, Crenshaw has focused much of her research on the concept of critical race theory. About 30 years ago, through the research she was doing on critical race theory, she coined the term “intersectionality.” According to Crenshaw, intersectionality is “an analytical framework for understanding how aspects of a person’s social and political identities combine to create different modes of discrimination and privilege.”[1]

            Identity is a relatively modern concept that consists of individual characteristics or personality traits that differentiate one person from another, and significantly relies on relationship. We all have different ways that we identify ourselves whether it be by gender, race, sexuality, religion, ability etc. As Rod Michalko, a retired professor of disability studies at the University of Toronto, states, “In a social world, others use our identity to define us and we use it to define ourselves.”[2]

More often than not, a person will have more than one social identity. Intersectionality is the interconnectedness of our various social identities that often overlap and can either provide us with great privilege or horrendous discrimination. For example, I am a white man and enjoy all the privilege that comes with that identity. However, I am also part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community because I am transgender. So, while I can enjoy white privilege, I am also at risk of experiencing discrimination for being queer.

Society has divided people into segmented groups, most of which will experience discrimination in one form or another. This is exponentially so if that person falls into more than one segmented group. For example, a lesbian African-American woman falls into three oppressed categories of social identity that all intersect into a single person who will likely experience two to three times the amount of discrimination in comparison to others.

While these segmented groups might bring on oppression, they can also bring community and support. There is a togetherness that can be found when you surround yourself with people who identify in the same way as you do. It may or may not happen on purpose, but it’s human nature to gravitate toward those who look, act, think, and speak like you. Especially within oppressed minority groups, this togetherness, defined as identity politics, becomes very important because those who experience similar oppression will come together to fight for social justice.

For example, one of my identities is as a transgender male, which places me within the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. In the fall of 2023, there was a movement to stop queer and gender studies being added to sexual education classes in the schools with claims that the classes would influence more “transgender fads” in the student body. This movement included protests of government buildings across the country. In response, the transgender community throughout Canada, using social media to communicate with each other, initiated counter protests. We had to use our identity to be visible for both the politicians with the power to enact change, and to everyone out there who might have been thinking they were alone in this fight.

When we talk about these social segments, they are often called labels and many people will say that they don’t want to use labels, whether on themselves or on others. I suppose I can understand that because who wants to be put into a box? Labels can cause conflict if you make assumptions because there are identities that aren’t visible. You can safely assume that every person is someone’s child, but not everyone is a parent or a sibling. You can’t tell by looking at a person if they are religious, able-bodied, or 2SLGBTQIA+. Even considering race and ethnicity you can’t always tell simply by looking. So, what if we stopped using labels? Would it change anything. If everyone simply identified as human, as I’ve heard in some arguments regarding the transgender community, would that stop all oppression?

I seriously doubt it. I think that while there is power to be had and held, there will always be oppression. Unfortunately, these power dynamics are almost exclusively based on identities and labels, so those who have power will never want to be rid of labels. Although, because of privilege, they are able to disregard the labels they so cling to. Such as someone who identifies as white denying that white supremacy exists. This person has the privilege to disregard their white label.[3] Conversely, those who fall into boxes, labels, or identities, can be comforted by them because it allows for community to be formed.

While it would be lovely to one day live in a world with labels, our identity will always be what makes us who we are. The important question is whether or not we will ever see an end to the oppression of our fellow human beings simply because of those identities.

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[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BnAW4NyOak

[2] Michalko, Rod. “Introduction” in Rod Michalko, The Difference That Disability Makes. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2002, p. 5.

[3] Harvey, Jennifer. “Disrupting the Normal: Queer Family Life as Sacred Work,” in Kathleen T Talvacchia, Michael F Pettinger, and Mark Larrimore, editors, Queer Christianities: Lived Religion in Transgressive Forms. New York: New York University Press, 2015, p. 107.

Being in Liminal Space Within Your Community

What is culture? It feels like this would be an easy word to explain but when I actually sit down and try to put a definition to it, suddenly I struggle to find the right way to explain it. Even the Merrian-Webster dictionary can’t put its finger on it, providing up to ten ways to try and define the noun “culture”. The trouble is that culture doesn’t really have a singular definition. It is a whole mixed bag of things like beliefs, language, social traits, race, attitudes, values, clothing, and the list goes on. No matter what the descriptor we use, the important piece of any definition of culture is that it is anything that express a collective experience. For example, a group of people wearing kilts would be in culturally appropriate dress for being from Scotland or having Scottish background. Or a group of Trekkies would consider themselves geeks and center their culture around Star Trek.

Ultimately, culture is linked to identity. Both culture and identity are social constructs, ways of grouping people together in relation to others, “constructed in community, not autonomously, and that a person’s unique sense of individuality is derivative of his or her existence in a given society.”[1] When we consider that cultural identity is formed in relation to others, that is where cultural differences emerge. And where there is difference, there is often conflict.

Canada, as a nation, likes to claim an identity of multiculturalism, often being called a cultural mosaic. In theory, multiculturalism is a good thing because it should be a means to welcoming different people, faster inclusion, social cohesion, and a recognition of diversity. Canada’s supposed tolerance of others is a central pillar of its national identity.[2]

However, many people will attest that, overall, Canada is working against such claims by trying to become a more homogenous country, leaning heavily to an identity of the “ordinary Canadian” – white, English-speaking, heterosexual, middle-classed male. In contrast, everyone else is “special” is some way or another.

Many Canadians, wanting to show their joint ethnicity, may identify as hyphenated peoples such as French-Canadian, German-Canadian, Ukrainian-Canadian, and so on. Others, perhaps not wanting to highlight their “otherness” or perhaps because they have the privilege to do so, will drop the descriptor and simply say they are “Canadian”. A person who is conflicted between being proud of who they are but acknowledging the struggles that come with being anything other than the “ordinary Canadian” ends up in this liminal space of being both accepted and not accepted depending in which space they are in relation to others. Sometimes this liminal space even occurs within their own cultural group with some accepting the person’s choice of identification and others making them feel guilty for not being more obviously proud of their heritage.

This liminal space is often found within the transgender community as well. There is an inherent “otherness” that comes with being transgender. If we are to consider that the “ordinary Canadian” is all the above but also cisgender, then anyone who’s gender identity is anything else would be considered “special” and outside of the Canadian societal norm. Just as with ethnic identities, some transgender folks wear their non-conforming gender identity on their sleeves. While others, whether for safety or any other personal reason, choose to live stealth, not publicly revealing the fact that they are transgender to anyone.

The liminal space occurs because transgender people are both accepted and not accepted in the 2SLGBTQIA+ community as well as the wider world. There is a neither here nor there type of relationship with those around us. For example, I am a white man and can enjoy all the privilege that comes with that identity. However, I am also part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community because I am transgender. So, while I can enjoy white privilege, I am also at risk of experiencing discrimination for being queer. However, I could choose to hide that part of my identity, thus returning me to a position of privilege but outwardly appearing no longer part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. I am neither one nor the other but also both.

I similarly experience this liminal space as a transgender priest. I am part of a religious community where I experience both acceptance and rejection for being transgender, and I experience both acceptance and rejection in the transgender community for being a priest.

In reflecting on cultural differences and the inherent “otherness” of being transgender, I believe that there are similarities in the societal concerns that exist with regards to exclusion and oppression in a country that claims to be built on multiculturalism, diversity, and the inclusion of all people. As a country, there have been great strides in bringing forth acceptance and inclusion, but there is still a long way to go for the liminal space to disappear entirely.

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[1] Driedger Hesslein, Kayko, “But You Can’t Be Both! – Multiple Loyalties in Theories of Multiculturalism.” In Kayko Driegder Hesslein, Dual Citizenship: Two- Natures Christologies and the Jewish Jesus. Bloomsbury Academic, 2015, p. 33.

[2] Mackey, Eve. “Unsettling Differences: Origins, Methods, Frameworks.” In Eve Mackey, The House of Difference: Cultural Politics and National Identity in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002, p. 16.

Joint Committee Struck Between Anglicans and Lutherans

Over the last few years, there has been an incredible increase in attacks on the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. Certain persons in positions of power have done and said things that has given permission by proxy for homophobic, transphobic, and biphobic actions and attitudes. Quite often, the arguments against the existence 2SLGBTQIA+ people claim to be of a scriptural nature, with leaders from within the church frequently heading the attacks on the community. Statements like “Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve” and people quoting Leviticus as well as a handful of verse from throughout Paul’s letters are used as bullying and fear tactics to get the public riled up against people who identify as 2SLGBTQIA+.

However, there are church folk out there, clergy and lay alike who are starting to get louder with statements of love, standing in support of minority groups in the name of Jesus, declaring that Jesus called Christians to love, not hate, and that everyone is a blessed child of God.

A response from two religious groups based in Winnipeg to the anti-2SLGBTQIA+ rhetoric was to form a joint committee to address the issues that have been arising around the treatment those who identify as 2SLGBTQIA+. The Manitoba Northwestern Ontario Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada and the Diocese of Rupert’s Land of the Anglican Church of Canada decided to make use of their full communion relationship and form a single committee called the MNO Synod/Diocese of Rupert’s Land 2SLGBTQIA+ Committee for Education, Advocacy, and Policy. This committee is made up of a mix of Lutheran and Anglican clergy and lay people and has three pillars of focus:

1.      Education

Usually, the reason people fear something is because they don’t understand it. The only way to fix that issue is to provide opportunities for education. Everything from pronouns to how to be a good ally, this committee will be creating educational resources and workshops that will be available to all Lutheran and Anglican congregations and clergy.

2.      Social Justice

Advocacy is very important and when a minority group is doing all of the advocacy work, it can be exhausting for that group of people. As Christians, it is part of our baptismal call to stand up for oppressed people through faith and love. But sometimes it’s hard to know how to do that. This committee will be on the lookout for advocacy opportunities, will share them with the Synod and the Diocese, and will encourage members of both to take advantage of these advocacy opportunities.

3.      Policy and Governance

Both the Synod and the Diocesan policies are long overdue for a review, to be rewritten with inclusive language, and to bring in policies and procedures that reflect support of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. This committee will comb through policies and canons in the hopes of proposing changes. As well, the hope of the committee is to help parishes who want to be truly inclusive by creating policies as simple as enforcing church buildings to have all gendered washrooms.

Under these three pillars, this new committee desires to provide support for the 2SLGBTQIA+ community within the MNO Synod and the Diocese of Rupert’s Land as well as helping parishes who wish to become inclusive churches to do more than the words “all are welcome” could ever convey. A committee such as this reinforces both the commitment of the Synod and Diocese to work harder at promoting their full communion relationship and the support the Synod, which is a Reconciled in Christ Synod, and the Diocese wants to provide to the 2SLGBTQIA+ community within and without their parish walls.