Trans/cending Belief

My closest friends are trans-men and lesbians, along with a few "normal" straight people and a gay guy or two. I write that partially out of disbelief, partially out of pride. One of the most difficult things since moving to Berkeley has been attempting to navigate queer culture. I am from the Midwest, after all, where there are males and females and most people are straight, though some are not. It was all so much simpler back home. You are, more or less, what you look like--if you look like a man, you are a man; if you look like a woman, you are a woman. Here, though, looks are often deceiving. The binaries which are so ingrained in me that I don't even think about them--male/female, straight/gay--are essentially meaningless. Instead, I am learning, and often stumbling over, a whole new vocabulary--straight, queer, gay, lesbian, trans, intersex, cis, they (as a single pronoun) and so on and so forth. It has been, in many ways, more overwhelming than being a PhD student. 

And I have been struggling with it. A LOT.

I joke about being from the Midwest, but it really does explain so much about me. I mean, I grew up in an area where no one was gay, or at least no one was willing to admit to being gay because we all knew that homosexuality was one of those deadly sins that sends you straight to hell. The first gay person I ever (knowingly) met was my freshman roommate in undergrad, and that was a bizarre experience--she told me the first night she was gay and that thirty second conversation was the longest conversation we ever had. It was not until I got to seminary that I encountered and became friends with gay students. It was at that point that I had to rethink my understanding of homosexuality and its relationship to sin. It also helped that I was taking Greek, where we specifically learned about the Greek behind the passages that are (mis)used against homosexuality. But here these people were, my friends, who are just like me, good and God-loving people. How could I determine that they were hell-bound? And so my theology changed.

Of course, being gay or a lesbian is different than being queer and it is most definitely different than being trans. I had no conception of what it meant for someone to be "queer," and, well, weren't transgender people essentially saying that God got it wrong? I mean, doesn't God know if you are meant to be a boy or a girl? But then I moved to Berkeley and actually met people who are trans, and lo and behold, they too are just like me, good and God-loving. Once again, I am left asking myself how they could be excluded from God's family. Once again, my theology is changing.

These past couple of weeks, since I took the Greek exam, I have spent a lot of time pondering questions of what it means to be trans or queer or gay or lesbian or even straight. And I have been talking to my friends about it, especially my trans friends. I want to know how to talk about these things without making ignorant and unintentionally hurtful remarks. Because I am still figuring it out. And I have a feeling I will continue to be figuring it out until I get a chance to ask God face-to-face. Does God get it wrong sometimes? Or have we gotten it all wrong with our strict binary system? Did God make them, male and female, or did God make them ha'adam, gender-less and gender-full? Have we complicated things by trying to reduce everything to two simple options--male/female, straight/gay, right/wrong?

I tell my mom stories about my friends and my experiences, and she says, "What is the world coming to?" I say, "You can't judge something you don't know." 

Talking to a friend today about gender identities and all the variations, I finally asked, partially out of frustration, partially out of a deep longing, "Can't we all just be people?" Trans, female, straight, male, gay, queer, intersex, lesbian, cis--whatever "label" one is--aren't we all still people? Are any of us any less made in the image of God because our sexual or gender identity doesn't align with what someone else thinks it should? God breathed life into ha'adam, that mysterious creature whose gender is indeterminate, and so regardless of who you are, regardless of how you identify, I am discovering that the breath of God in me longs to meet and know the breath of God in you. 

Still a Christian, Still an Academic

I grew up in a pretty conservative area, in a really conservative church. I tend to use phrases like "essentially fundamentalist" to describe the church I grew up in and, in fact, am still a member. And, as a teenager, I was hardcore into all of it. It's all I knew, and (so I thought) I knew it to be true.

Then I went to a liberal arts university to study the Bible academically. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that meant reading the Bible as if it were literature rather that historical fact or through the lens of faith! I struggled a lot, especially that first semester, but I grew and I came to realize that my faith transcends the words on the page. Truth is not always dependent on historical fact. When I was able to let go of my need for the Bible to be the literal Word of God and literally true, I came to realize that my faith really isn't dependent on much of it being historically factual at all. In fact, sometimes my faith is better off if it is in fact not historically factual! Like that whole God as an abusive husband thing...I mean, seriously, if God really told the prophets that God was gonna beat wife-Israel/Judah and leave her for the other nations to rape, what kind of God am I serving?!?!

This is the journey I have been on for the past eight and a half years, navigating between truth and fact, faith and reality.  If you would have told me ten years ago I would be where I am today, I would have laughed at you. But here I am.

I mention all of this because my brother came home last weekend and for some reason decided to ask me all sorts of questions about the Bible. He's part of this men's group, and he decided to do the One Year Bible thing. And I tried to be good and give him an academic answer that still allowed for faith, although it was pretty clear on which side I came down, but I was trying to let him know that it was okay for him to choose faith over my academics (which I really do believe--just because I love the academic side doesn't mean everyone has to or even that they have to agree with it). But by the end of the conversation, my brother asked me, "Do you even consider yourself a Christian??"

I said yes, of course, but his question kinda threw me off guard. I know in seminary we always joked about how I was more Jewish than Christian and some people really thought I was going to return from Israel a Jew (and, in fact, I went to synagogue nearly every week but only went to church on Christmas and Easter). But at the end of the day, I have always been and still am a Christian. I mean, last semester, it was church on Sunday morning and Taize Wednesday evenings that kept me sane. I may not be orthodox. I believe that the Bible contains stories rather than history. I believe that some of those stories might not necessarily be applicable to us today, no matter how hard we try to make them be. But I believe that those stories are powerful, and they are powerful because they contain some sort of inherent truth (even if that inherent truth may not transcend time and space). I believe in God and in doing the right thing, in love and truth. I believe that being a Christian means something, that being a Christian makes me a different (and better) person than I would otherwise be. And I believe I can believe all these things and still be an academic, that in fact my beliefs in many ways allows me to be a better academic because I understand what is at stake.

I am, at the end of the day, both a Christian and an academic. Whether I am a Christian academic or an academic Christian, the fact remains that I am both.

Just Another New Day

The whole New Year's Day thing has always been lost on me. Is there really anything magical about the start of a new year? Is it really anything more than one day ending and another one beginning? And what's the point of making resolutions that you never really intend to keep anyway? Maybe it's because I am a perpetual student and therefore my year corresponds with the academic year, beginning in late August/early September and ending in May. (Don't ask me what happens to poor June and July!) The excitement (and fear!) for me is with the start of a new school year, or a new semester, not when the calendar returns to Jan 1. For me, today is just another new day.

I spent last night (and all day) studying Greek, just like every other day of the break, just like I spent today, just like I will spend the next two weeks until the exam is over. Studying Greek until I can't distinguish it from English. And then some more. Passing the exam means I don't have to take the class. And not having to take the class means I can dedicate the necessary time and energy to my classes, well, at least in theory. Maybe I will even have time to do something other than study? Not likely.

At least I get to spend some time at home, in the midst of all this Greek. Of course, "home" is a relative word. My parents are doing crazy renovations, and of course, everything is going crazy wrong, which means I have no access to any of my stuff (other than what I brought home with me) and I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Half the time plastic is hanging everywhere, including the doorways, turning the house into a maze and making me feel like we're in quarantine or something. And no TV to alleviate the Greek. And contractors coming and going and making all sorts of noise. So I go to the library, to the coffee shop, sometimes even the bookstore or mall food court, wherever I can get some work done.

No one ever said the life of a PhD student was very glamorous. In fact, I'm pretty sure cruel and unusual self-induced punishment would probably be more accurate. We could all use a good dose of therapy, and perhaps some strong drugs. In the meantime, I am running on stress and caffeine. And chocolate, always chocolate!

Checklists & Health Fits

I am exceptionally good at checklists. I think I take them as a personal challenge. Case in point: In my first semester of my PhD program I...

- passed the Hebrew exam
- passed the French exam
- got Aramaic waived
- had my first TA job (well, first as a PhD student)
- submitted the necessary papers for research readiness review

In other words, on the outside at least, I look like I have my act together. Sure there have been failures and setbacks, but overall, I have made great progress on the protocols checklist. But I can check things off a checklist all day. The actual feeling like I know what is going on, like I am half as smart as the other students, like I actually belong in a PhD program--that's a whole other story.  Things are improving. I am actually pretty proud of my final papers. They aren't exactly earth-shattering, but I think I was able to find a new angle for each topic. Hopefully my professors will agree.

And just like that, I am a quarter of the way through coursework (God willing!) The semester was tough. Far tougher than anything I have ever done. Far tougher than moving to Jerusalem for nine months. But I survived. I may not be thriving yet, but I am surviving. And I am learning a lot about myself along the way. I am learning it is okay to do things my own way, at my own pace. For the first time in my life, I had to document my health problems with my school, and that was hard. I am officially "differently abled." It's not really an issue of needing help--I realized long ago that asking for help is part of my life. But it is different when I am asking a friend to walk me home because I am lightheaded than having official notification sent to my professors to let them know that my health impacts my classroom performance. It never used to, not really. I don't know if it is the change in environment, the added stress, or just adjusting, but my health went from being an occasional nuisance to being an almost daily issue. And I have had to make changes in my lifestyle as a result. I have never viewed my health as a weakness--it is what it is, it is part of my life--but I also have never let it affect how I live my life. I have never had to plan things according to what my body could handle, not really. And suddenly, I am realizing that it has to be a factor. Not that I am going to let it ruin my dreams, but it may mean a different time frame. And that's okay.

I went on a date a while back (that's as weird for me to say as it probably is for those of you who know me to read). The guy kept asking me what I like to do with my free time. For the life of me, I couldn't get him to understand that as a PhD student, I don't have any free time. Finally I told him I like to read. He asked me what I like to read, for fun. He was a bit shocked when I told him biblical studies books, much like what I read for class. I looked at him and said, "You gotta understand, this is what I am passionate about. This is what I do for fun. You don't end up in a PhD program by having hobbies." Needless to say, there was no second date. But it's the truth. As hard as it is, as time-consuming and stressful as it is, I wouldn't have it any other way. I am doing this because this is what I love.

Today, I Like Lists

At this point in the semester, my ability to form coherent narratives is reserved for papers. Thus, I present to you a random list of random thoughts about life in and lessons from a PhD program on the West Coast.

- Taize on Wednesday evenings is the highlight of my week. (I was greatly disappointed this morning when I realized that today was Tuesday and not Wednesday...)
- Professors should not be allowed to assign homework after Thanksgiving if they expect us to also write 20 page papers.
- People who ask for my advice, ignore it and then proceed to whine to me because I was right annoy me.
- Pumpkin cheesecake is amazing.
- For the first time in my life, I had to document my health problems with my school. I am now a "differently abled student" and I am okay with that.
- Sleep has been relegated to an activity that I get to do in my free time. If only I had free time...
- Constant self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy are central to the process.
- MDivs who whine about having to write 10 page papers annoy me.
- Sometimes the best way to be a good friend is to not be a good friend.
- My health has to come first.
- I really like smoothies. And my Keurig.
- Sometimes I really am a horrible person. But it's okay because most of the time I am busying mothering the first year MDivs, so they forgive me.
- The best way to deal with never-ending to-do lists is to first not actually make the list and second to focus on getting through one thing at a time.
- It's okay if I only take 3 classes a semester.
- Having health problems is not a weakness. Neither is asking for help.
- I have some amazingly supportive classmates and friends.

And now, back to the never-ending world of paper-writing...

Self-Doubts

So it’s been like six weeks. Reading week just ended, so I am halfway through my first semester. I haven’t updated like I intended, in part because I have been so busy but also because there hasn’t been much to say. I am completely overwhelmed and spend more time doubting my abilities than feeling sure of myself and what I am doing here. Don’t get me wrong, there are moments when I feel like this is exactly where I am supposed to be and that this is exactly where I am supposed to do. Those moments, unfortunately, tend to happen outside the classroom. It is when I am TA-ing and when the first year MDiv students are coming to me for help and advice that I feel confident.  So in a way, those experiences affirm my own sense of call, which is more to teaching than to scholarship, but in order to get to there, I first have to prove that I can do the scholarship.

So I haven’t posted anything because I wanted to have something to say other than I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to be that person who is self-deprecating in order to have others re-assure her. That’s not what I am looking for. Really, it is just a statement of reality – I am stressed out and often feel like I am not as smart as the other PhD students. I also realize that this is part of the process. I spoke to my advisor last week and confessed my lost-ness, especially in one particular class, and rather than trying to tell me not to feel overwhelmed and under-qualified, he acknowledged that my feelings were valid and good – not because he doubts my ability to complete the program, but because the purpose of PhD studies is to stretch, grow and teach us. If I feel confident and certain, then something is wrong. Of course, knowing that this is what we all go through and that it is what we are supposed to experience doesn’t make it any more enjoyable. It doesn’t keep me from sobbing to my parents for over an hour because I don’t understand my class or feeling completed frustrated with myself because I didn't do something as well as I thought I should have.

Thankfully, though, I have a good support system, both here and at home. I think that is what keeps me from packing up and going home, knowing that I am not alone in this. I have people who believe in me when I don't believe in myself, and I have people who are willing to be completely lost and overwhelmed with me.

What was it my friend Seth used to tell me all the time? "Take a deep breath, say a quick prayer and smile."

Life Lessons, On Being Me

Four weeks living in Berkeley and two weeks of classes and I'm still standing. Okay, actually I am sitting on my bed, but same difference. Part of me is still in shock that I am in a PhD program. Part of me feels like it is the most natural thing in the world. Part of me is still wondering why the hell I thought moving to the Bay Area would be such a great idea. Couldn't I have gotten a PhD elsewhere??

But here I am, nevertheless.

I have a lot to learn, not just about the Bible but about life in general and life on the West Coast in particular. One of my first lessons, before classes even started, was that around here, you have to "come out" as straight. Maybe it's because I am from the Midwest, maybe it's because I am straight, but it's not something I ever thought about before. Back home, I can hang out with a female without anyone assuming we are anything more than friends. Out here, I have been asked numerous times if my (female) friend and I are partners. It is interesting. I guess it is a reflection of the assumptions we make about people's sexual orientation, as if it matters--or as if it is even our business.

Despite all of the horror stories and stereotypes about the cut-throat world of PhD studies, the PhD students are fairly nice and supportive of each other. There are, of course, exceptions to that; I have experienced some cattiness and hostility after getting a TA job so early in the program. But I'm not going to let it get to me. Rather, I find it amusing that someone further along in the program seems to feel threatened by me or something. I admit, luck factored into me getting the job; I wouldn't have gotten it if I wasn't his advisee. But the bottom line is that my advisor changed his mind about having a TA because he wanted me to be his TA. I'm not going to apologize for that. And most of the other students are happy for me, and when they get the TA job next time instead of me, I will be happy for them too. Because we are all in this together and we all need the same things. Just because one person succeeds doesn't mean someone else won't.

All in all, life is good. There is drama living in the dorms, and at times I feel very old, but in a good way. After eight years of higher education and numerous health issues, I have learned both the art of self-care and the need for self-differentiation (looks like Church Leadership paid off after all!). I don't have the time or energy to get caught up in other people's drama, nor do I really care if that makes them think I am bitch or what have you. I am who I am, no apologies. There are enough people who can appreciate me for me; I don't need to waste my time on people who are only going to bring me down. Okay, that totally sounds bitchy, but whatever. At the end of the day, I'm gonna be me. I'm gonna be true to who I am. And really, what more can I do?

At church this morning, during the children's time, Pastor Mark talked about being the best me that I can be, rather than trying to be better than someone else. It's so true. I can only be me. And all I can do is try to be a better me today than I was yesterday.