I wouldn't say she was mean, she just wasn't warm. She wasn't cruel by any means, but she was definitely sharp bordering on harsh. She had high expectations, and I never felt like I was doing enough, or doing good enough. I can remember sitting in her office typing tests up for her, my back to her, soaking in a cold sweat because I might do something wrong.
And then one day she asked me some benign question about how I was doing. "Not great", I replied. And I could see her judgement (or perhaps I imagined it) because in ND you don't get personal (at least not back then) about not doing great, but that day I just didn't have it in me to pretend.
"Whats not so great in your life?" she asked, I'm sure expecting something like, "oh, I'm not ready for my comp 101 mid term" or "Bobby didn't take me to the lake with him and the boys" or some stupid shit. Instead I had to embarrassingly admit, "My dad died back and September. I know I should be over it, but I'm not." And, I truly believed I should have been over it. I should have been over it the second his coffin was in the ground. But I wasn't. Nor was I over the mudslide, shit show that followed his death.
And to my utter surprise, the prickly exterior of Sister D melted away; she wrapped me in a hug (something I was very not accustomed to), and in a tone of bewilderment instructed me in no uncertain terms that no, I should not "be over" the loss of my parent. And the tears I had been holding back since December when I had almost taken my life burst the dam. And from that day on, instead of Robo-Sister, I got the kind and compassionate side of Sister D. By the next semester I was re-assigned to the art department, but whenever I had a chance I would stop in to say "hi" to Sister D.
* * *
Three years later I "came out". In a big way. It was 95, it was rural ND, and I decided it was high-time my University had an LGBT Student Organization. And, no, I didn't do it because I was "proud", I was actually quite ashamed, not just for being gay, pretty muchly I was ashamed for existing, for having a body...just the usual. No, it was pride, it was hearing that a young man who was very active in the gay community on the other side of the state had committed suicide. And it was thinking about the suicides I was aware of in my home-state and realizing how many of those young people were members of the LGBT community.
So I threw myself into activism. I didn't want to lose another one of my LGBT kinsfolk to suicide, or pickle themselves in booze to harden themselves against shame. I spoke to classes, I talked to the library about updating their LGBT section (which, bless them, they were totally excited to do!), and I established our campus LGBT and Friends Group. And in doing so, I found purpose, and I stepped a little out of my shame bubble.
* * *
I corralled the above paragraphs to keep the "good" times separate from the shitty times. When I came out I lost a lot of my "Christian" friends (not so much my fellow students, but my "adult" friends, as I thought of them) when I came out. Some I expected, some I didn't. I was apprehensive, yet hopeful that Sister D wouldn't be one of them, and I avoided her, because I didn't want to lose her, or have the healing she had provided me tainted. But the day eventually came when I ran into her. As feared, the prickly armor had returned, and I was informed that as long as I wasn't a "practicing" homosexual, I was kinda-sorta okay.
As painful as losing her was, the catch this morning as I lie awake was this: as a homosexual, in her eyes, my sins are unforgivable. Yet, there is a man who a few months after my father's death committed acts against me that killed a part of me, that left me irreparably damaged, stole a "part" of me that the church holds in such high regard; and yet for him, the act of asking her Jesus for forgiveness and saying a few Hail Mary's would grant him forgiveness.
What an amazing magic act of misogyny Christianity has performed...they have convinced us that a man who commits irreparable harm to women and children (and yes, sometimes men) are redeemable or at least forgivable (even when they continue to commit these heinous acts with no remorse or accountability {how many child-molester priests have just been moved from church to church?}), yet someone who simply loves and cherishes someone of the same sex, or doesn't conform to gender norms, or is aware that their assigned sex does not match their internal experience is doomed to eternal damnation no matter how good of a person they are.
We've come a long way in the last 25 years, and yet my Trans-kindred continue to get murdered in the streets, without mainstream America batting an eyelash. The murders walk free, and still too many "Christians" will justify the actions of these terrorists, and many of the rest will believe in redemption for them, and yet the LGBT community will remain sub-human, undeserving of their god's love or forgiveness. And still we see rapists and molesters walk free with little or no punishment in the rare instances where the cases are prosecuted, and even rarer when a guilty verdict is given. On any given day I will scroll through social media ans see one of my friends post something about how our country is lost because we don't pray enough, or we've moved away from christian values. I'll take mainstream christian values seriously when i see every child molester priest in jail (and every one who was complicit in their crimes), and every church open, accepting, and loving of (not "tolerating") the LGBT community. (And yes, there are good Christians and I know a good fair few, however just like there is not room for #notallwhitepeople, there is no room for #notallchristians...we all have to work ACTIVELY at change rather than turning away and soothing ourselves that it's just a few renegades...in both that is not the case.)
Fortunately for me, I left christianity behind shortly after I started "practicing" homosexuality so I don't carry the burden of "sin". I identified as Pagan, but never really found solid grounding until about 10 years ago when I started practicing Core Shamanism. Now I'm on a path where I know that Godx have my back, and will give me the strength to work to make the world a better place for those who suffer, for those who are vulnerable. My path involves actively working toward inclusion, and examining my own biases (especially as a wypipo), and yes, I fall on my face regularly, but I work to be better, and do better. I know that redemption isn't a passive process of saying "oopsie, sorry" and it's all made better; no it is about action, right action, accountability, and amends.
I advise you, Loddfafnir, that you take this counsel-
you'll profit from it, if you learn it,
you'll get good from it, if you take it-
wherever you see evil call it evil,
and give no peace to your enemies...
never rejoice in evil,
but let yourself be pleased with good.
Havamal: A New Translation, Ben Waggoner, lines 127-8
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