Trans Activism Comes to Jesus
It's not exactly news that youth gender transition activism has gained a foothold in a number of institutions across the US, but many may be surprised to learn that it has taken root in various Christian churches. The common image of American culture wars, especially as it relates to trans issues, is one of secular lefties on one side and the religious right on the other. In reality, the lines don’t always break down so neatly. Many churches are indeed bastions of transphobia, but a growing number of others have become not only outspoken in their trans activism, but also quite extreme. This is how I found myself protesting outside my friends’ church. I’d totally forgotten it was Palm Sunday and didn’t realize they were having outdoor services that day, which made things a bit awkward. I just wanted them to be aware that the Episcopal House of Bishops had recently passed Resolution 2018-C022, which directs churches like theirs to oppose political efforts to stop sex change procedures for minors.
This issue is personal for me. Dismayed by my same-sex attraction and the ways in which puberty was changing my body, I had a sex change as a teenager. But after spending decades of my life trying to live as a woman, I’ve realized that it’s impossible to change my sex, and that I’d been too immature to understand the gravity of my decision. The process destroyed my ability to enjoy sex, harmed my health, and did not lead to the happier life I had imagined. Now I’m a disenchanted transsexual trying to slow down young people from making the same reckless and permanent changes to their bodies I did. Ironically, to many American churchgoers, this makes me a heretic.
Heresy is a hot topic in Christian circles right now. One in four United Methodist congregations has disaffiliated from the church as a result of its LGBTQQIP2SAA-inclusive teachings. Conservative pastors have accused UMC leadership of heresy and bad theology. Debates over doctrine have become one of my favorite YouTube genres, as I follow the trail of havoc that gender identity activism wreaks upon many churches. My interest is not religious. I’m not a Christian. So why then do I care about this subject at all?
Since 2022, I have been working with legislators in the US to create policies that apply more guardrails and scrutiny to physicians who perform sex change procedures on minors. Such procedures include puberty blockers like Lupron, cross-sex hormone prescriptions, and surgeries such as double-mastectomies for girls as young as 12 and orchiectomies and vaginoplasties for boys as young as 16. I have testified in Indiana, Ohio, and Texas, and my written declaration about my own sex change experience was cited by the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals.
While I expected opposition from trans rights activists and organizations like the Human Rights Campaign and GLAAD, I was shocked to discover how often clergy members oppose medical regulation laws. I’ve met and had conversations with Episcopal bishops and priests as well as ministers from the United Church of Christ and the United Methodist Church. Occasionally, the clergy members I spoke to were also parents of children who identified as transgender.
I’ve always been in favor of non-denominational churches that are inclusive of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and trans congregation members. All religious people need a place to worship and have a community. But welcoming LGBT congregants is not the same as actively backing reckless sex change procedures for minors. I cannot in good conscience stand idly by as large Protestant denominations help steer vulnerable young people down a path that may not be right for them, and from which, if taken far enough, they cannot fully return.
Source: The Washington Post.
My opponents make two arguments in favor of preserving the status quo. First, that cross-sex medicalization proves more effective if it begins before puberty. In terms of being able to pass as the opposite sex as adults, this may be true, especially for trans women. However, there is scant evidence that such interventions prove beneficial to young people overall, in terms of long-term health, mental health, and life outcomes, as the UK’s recent and comprehensive Cass Review has found. Second, proponents argue that children’s stated identities, and their desires to express those identities, including with medical interventions, must be accepted because they have exclusive access to the inner knowledge of their “true selves.” In this view, challenging or questioning kids’ beliefs, or even just urging a cautious approach, is seen as a form of abuse.
Interestingly, the conception of humanity as born with hidden knowledge trapped in bodies that are imperfect, fleshy prisons goes back to ancient times. This is Gnosticism, the belief that humans are fragments of the divine energy manifested into the material plane — a world full of distractions and illusions preventing us from achieving self-actualization. Early Christians wound elements of Gnosticism into the faith before the Catholic Church stamped it out as heretical. Now, gnostic-style beliefs are making a comeback in the church in the form of youth transition activism. In fact, in many churches, radical trans activism has been mixed into Christian theology and is now embedded within the seminaries that train the incoming clergy.
A pastor from the progressive Metropolitan Community Church speaking at a trans activist rally in 2023. Source: WRIC ABC Virginia.
Through long and painful experience, and much introspection, there are some things I have come to believe — or disbelieve. I do not believe that we are born with special, secret knowledge of ourselves. Knowledge is what we discover and develop by pursuing our interests. I don’t believe in such a thing as a “true self” lying in repose like a statue waiting for the celestial sculptor to begin chiseling — whether in the form of a soul or the notion of our “authentic selves.” Instead, I believe we are forged through trial; through trying and failing until we succeed — by hurting, healing, and learning through experience, not divine revelation. At the same time, our capacity for change is not infinite. More to the point, while medicine has come a long way, I don’t believe humans can change sex. I’ve tried, and I’m convinced to my own satisfaction that the best that can be achieved is a sort of disguise. I believe that adults must have the right to peacefully live however they please, but that guiding children toward transition is a grave mistake.
Like a prism working in reverse, my rainbow of heresy is merging into a single ray. That which I believe, and that which I deny, are now unified and represented by left-leaning Protestant denominations who are casting aside their own orthodoxies in order to champion causes that would be unrecognizable even a single generation earlier. I see institutions that have fallen out of alignment, doctors guided by spiritual beliefs instead of evidence-based medicine, and failing churches seeking to fill pews by pandering to identities instead of by providing moral guidance. In an earlier incarnation of Christianity, I was a heretic because I did not believe in God. Now, for the churches that have embraced youth transition activism, I am a heretic yet again.
Published June 15, 2025
Published in Issue XIII: Heretic
