Pastor [pastor’s name],
In 2012 (or thereabouts) there was a lesson in youth group at your church. The topic was “spiritual numbness.” It resonated with me deeply. I saw a joy in my peers that seemed inaccessible to me, and I didn’t know why.
I realize in hindsight that this numbness was not exclusive to my relationship with Christ, but that it was an overarching theme endemic to my entire lived experience. The reason I connected with that lesson about spiritual numbness was because it was the first time I had earnestly addressed that feeling. It consumed everything I did to the point that life felt robotic.
The actual source of numbness would elude me until early 2022, which was when I realized I’m a transgender woman. The numbness that had plagued my life was because I was playing a part that was incompatible with my mind and spirit. This was by no means an easy revelation to process, nor was it something that happened overnight. It was a thought I cautiously entertained until it became the most convincing theory for my numbness. Even upon realizing that I’m a transgender woman, I resisted the premise that I needed to do anything about it. I believed I could “live the lie”–privately entertaining the thought of being a woman while going through life as a man. That proved to be agonizing.
I thought about what I wanted in life. I was single, living alone, and uninterested in finding a wife and starting a family. My life wasn’t going anywhere. I had my job at NASA, and my vague goal was to save enough money to retire early, but I had no plan as to what I would do after achieving that goal. Part of me wondered if I’d live that long, or if I even wanted to.
I began seriously thinking about transitioning, about living as a woman. I worried about what would happen if I did. Would my family denounce me? Would I lose friends? Would I be condemned by God? I started thinking about morals, sin, and salvation. Eventually it was all I could think about, and I filled pages and pages of my journal with my thoughts.
Ultimately, I started cross sex hormone therapy in the form of estrogen pills on December 5th, 2022. It was a daunting decision, but I saw only two paths forward: A life of numbness and suffering, or a life of joy and feeling.
Now, about 18 months later, I know that transitioning was the right decision. I care about things that I didn’t before. I can feel emotions. My life feels real, rather than vague and meaningless. My friends and family stood by me, for which I feel blessed. I’m living as a woman in all facets of my life. It has not been an easy journey getting to this point, and it’s not over yet, but it’s been worth it.
It’s more complicated than that–by quite a lot–but explaining the complexity, pain and struggle of transition is not why I wrote this letter.
I wrote this letter because I am alarmed by a moral panic that has gripped many Christians in this country. In recent years, I have seen intense hatred against trans women coming from those claiming to speak for all Christians, and with it comes a dangerous us-or-them narrative that transgender people are incompatible with Christianity. This narrative flies in the face of the many trans people who are devout Christians.
This is not an accusation. I believe this is happening because powerful interests see the cohesive nature of the church as something they can exploit for political gain, and they see transgender people as a convenient scapegoat to rally around. These interests are drawing righteous people down a path of hate to serve those interests’ own material and political ends. They paint a picture of trans women as misguided, regretful, or even predatory. Many Christians, having never earnestly interacted with a trans person, accept these stories as true, because they come from people they trust.
In light of this, I am contacting you to humanize myself. I am a woman. My name is Andrea Trenaman. You may have known me as a boy, and then a young man named Andy. I am [parents’ names removed]’s middle child. I grew up in [name of church]. I have a lot of good memories from your church.
I remember calling Tony “Mr Pony” when I was much younger (and getting in trouble for it), and I remember the grief when he passed away years later. I remember seeing friends being baptised and sharing in their joy. I remember learning stories from the bible in Ms Juanita and LC’s classes, and I remember being deeply moved when I first read Ecclesiastes. I remember church camp, feast of tabernacles, and Bethlehem village. I remember a community of people rallying together to help those in need.
My time at your church was a formative and instrumental part of my life, and I thank you deeply for your role in making that possible. I look back on those times with great nostalgia.
You may not view me as a woman, and that’s okay. I’m not writing to argue. I’m writing because I want you to know that trans people are closer to you than you think. We are not the monsters or deviants or whatever other popular caricatures are marched out when the time comes for politicians to face voters. We aren’t “someone else,” and above all, we didn’t ask to be born different. All I ask is that you remember that when you are delivering your sermons.
While I still live in Alabama, I hope to someday work up the courage to return to your church so I can finally greet you as myself. Until that time comes, take care.
Sincerely,
Andrea Esther Trenaman