The Believers

Last night I was all excited because there was a movie I haven’t seen in forever showing on the LOGO channel. I remember how this movie scared me when it first came out and how I hadn’t been able to watch it for some time. “The Believers” stars Martin Sheen and is about some voodoo, Santeria, mumbo-jumbo stuff. I hunkered down and tuned-in in anticipation of snuggling close with S as we watched a “scary” movie. (Just for the record: I don’t like scary movies but I do like suspense.)

The program came on and it totally was NOT what the information said it would be. It was a program about transgendered people and their gospel choir. What the hell? The title of the program is “The Believers” and it is actually a documentary about the Transcendence Gospel Choir and their struggles and reclamation of their spirituality through their group. We watched it because it was fascinating.

Well, duh; the LOGO channel is part of the MTV networks and is primarily a 24/7 LGBT entertainment channel. Why in the world I would actually think that Martin Sheen, voodoo, a little boy, and some chanting African dude would be on LOGO is beyond me. Evidently, it is beyond the person who put the information up for the movie “The Believers” versus the documentary, “The Believers.” Same title; wrong info.

I’ve been “out” since I was about 18 years old and I’ve seen a lot of things in the gay community. I have a gazillion stories about my first experiences in the community and my learning processes about what it is to live in a gay lifestyle in our ever-changing world. I was a DJ for five years in the only gay bar on the Central Coast of California. This was quite an education for me. It is also one of the reasons why I rarely drink and don’t do drugs. Working in a bar teaches you that or, you slip into the bottle with the rest of them.

I had been living on my own, in my first relationship, when I first met my good friend Tim. He was a 35 year old, newly-out gay man experimenting and experiencing the gay lifestyle in the early 1980’s. AIDS hadn’t surfaced yet and times were good. He and I became great friends and, at one point, he saved me from myself (when my first g/f and I broke up) by taking me into his home and under his big-brother, protective wing. He was a psychiatric social worker at Atascadero State Hospital and worked primarily with sex offenders. I could not understand how he could do that job because I was a judgmental, pretentious, young woman and was not very tolerant of anyone other than my immediate friends. (Ahhh…. youth and the dumbass things we think and do… This story is true and is quite embarrassing for me to tell. I‘m still gonna tell it, though, because Tim had a lot to do with my becoming tolerant of other people, including those whom were so disparaging against me and other gays and lesbians, and was a pivotal point in my growing up.)

I can remember coming home from work one day to find a room full of men and women from the support group that Tim had started. As he introduced me, I realized that these were, in fact, all men who were in some stage of gender re-identification. I’m sure the look on my face gave away my mortification of something that I, at the time, didn’t understand and was completely freaked out by. There was one “woman” there wearing awful old-lady clothing, and had long, dyed-red hair surrounding an obvious bald spot, short, dirty, grease-filled, mechanic-like fingernails, and a very heavy five o’clock shadow. She totally freaked me out simply by her appearance. I had no idea how to act or what to do with myself. I opted to go to my room, close the door, and call a friend on the phone and complain, make fun of, and generally disparage the entire group.

Once everyone left, I came out of my room and asked Tim what he was doing allowing those “freaks” into our house. This guy, this wonderful guy, sat me down and talked to me about how these people felt, what they were going through, how it was for them to so courageously try to fit in, the abuses they suffered, the lack of support for them, and the reasons why he started the support group. I felt bad but, at the same time, I argued with him and told him that it wasn’t fair that I had to deal with them and, well, it just didn’t seem right. My arguments were weak and infantile and finally digressed into a war of words. What I could not understand was why anyone would want to change their sex by cutting off their privates or adding to their privates and then, Holy Mother, of all things want to become a lesbian. I didn’t understand why a man would want to become a woman and then be with women. It made no sense to me and, there I was, sitting in our living room, saying words and phrases like, “abomination”, “freak”, “Against God’s will.”, “sicko”, and other disparaging, intolerant, and prejudiced remarks.

I was mad, in my ego-centric-woman-passionate-self, and offended that some “man” would want to be a “woman” and then be with women. This is what offended me the most. But, really, what did any of this have to do with me? Well, I didn’t want to have to look at it or deal with it or see these individuals as human beings or people with feelings and experiences beyond anything I’d ever known. Tim was kind and empathetic to my feelings and did the best he could to help me understand. He suggested I come to their next meeting and, while I was totally creeped-out, I attended their next meeting and sat and listened to their stories.

It was then that I realized that they were people struggling, much like me, with their own identities. I got to know them and even became friends with a few. At first, I would be mortified when anyone from the group acknowledged me in “the bar.” I was so afraid of being chastised, made fun of, labeled, ostracized, and identified as “one of them.” God bless Tim for his infinite patience, compassion, understanding, and that wonderful way he had of helping me understand from my own perspective. I will always be grateful for the things he taught me and for the love and friendship between us.

Today, the thought of my own immature and judgmental thoughts and feelings offend me to no end. I’ve come through it and learned a lot about a lot of different kinds of human beings whether it be transgendered people, gays, lesbians, heterosexuals, blacks, whites, browns, yellows, greens, purples, Christians, Pagans, Muslims, white separatist’s, politicians, etc… There are ignorant haters and prejudice no matter what group you subscribe to.

I watched the documentary last night and remembered all of those folks I used to know. I saw traces of each of them in all of the members of the choir. I remembered the first time I realized that I actually knew someone who was FTM (Female to Male) and how I so innocently asked invasive questions about how all those hydraulics actually worked. I didn’t know any better and he was very patient and giving in his answers. I was 20 years old, naive and open to learning, all because of Tim and the trust we’d established in our friendship.

I still don’t understand the complexities of transgendered people and their relationships. I believe it must be incredibly difficult and tiring to stand in constant vigilance of keeping one’s self safe and on path. I’ve been the victim of gay-bashing but it was incidental to where I was and not necessarily who I was. It was awful. By outward appearances, I could pass for “girly” and, in general, haven’t been accused of being a “lezzy” simply by the clothes I wore or the way I wore my hair. I can only imagine what transgendered folks go through on a daily basis.

It takes courage to stand in your own skin and attempt to live your life. It takes courage to admit when you are wrong. It takes courage and commitment to be willing to change. It takes incredible courage to follow through and change yourself physically and seemingly beyond human, spiritual, and gender identification. Can you imagine the courage and commitment it takes to live in a life so different from the rest of the world, so complex, and so taboo, according to societal standards? I know how difficult it has been from my perspective. And, yes, the world is changing but not fast enough otherwise we wouldn’t have wars, genocide, and all of the occurring atrocities. We watched this documentary just after having watched, “The Last King of Scotland” about Idi Amin. Scary stuff.

In my travels, I have found that people who deal with tremendous adversities are, many times, some of the coolest people in the world. They are the ones who take tons of abuse and have learned to deal with it, temper their feelings, educate, or prove the ignorant wrong. I’ve seen this happen with people with full body tattoos, freaky clothing/hair, gender identification, religious beliefs, etc… And I would have to say that the majority of them have the best outlook on life and a tremendous “live and let live” motto.

Watching that program last night, while not exactly what I was expecting, was a wonderful reminder of the lessons I’ve learned, the wonderful people I’ve known, and the diversities in my own life. God knows, each time I’m called “Grandma”, and each time S and I are asked if we adopted the kids, I am reminded of this.

This post is dedicated to Tommy/Tammy… Wherever you are, I hope your life is filled with wonderful, nurturing relationships and that you’ve finally found love and happiness.

And to Tim… My beloved angel and very good friend/big bro, died of AIDS in 1986. I miss you dude. I miss your laugh and your kindness…. and the way you always burned the pork chops into jerky strips and tried to make up for it with your soggy couscous.

Rest in Peace, Brother.