Dear Thomas
See my scars
A letter to my friend, Thomas:
You seem to be having difficulty believing me about who I am when I say that I am a transgender woman. That’s understandable. You have little experience with someone like me.
Not only that, to believe that I am who I say I am would cost you dearly. It might cost you friends, family, time, money, heartache, and more. You’re right about that. Believing me will change you.
You have questions about my identity. How can it be? Are the scars real? I urge you to look for yourself. Use your empathy to feel what I feel.
To address your doubts, dear Thomas, allow me to present myself.
I spent decades pretending to be less than what I am. I played the expected role, though occasionally would give a glimpse of my true self.
At a young age, in one such occurrence, I wandered from that role. In front of an audience, I let people see a piece of the real me. They were shocked, but my mother… she was upset. She worried for me, understandably. She did not know what to do with this and told me: you must not do that.1
So, I hid again. For decades I played along, pretending to be this person everyone expected. I built things, I made friends, I lived a life. There were laughs, but it was always hard because they could not really know me.
Can you imagine? Remember your childhood. Imagine your mother, afraid of the world seeing the real you. Play that memory through your mind countless times, knowing that it was likely out of love and fear for your safety, but also wondering what she would say when she found out the truth. That glimpse, that flash… that was her real child.
For years, you learn to be someone you are not.
I had to do that because of people with doubts like you.
This is my mind, broken by you.
Meanwhile, something was wrong - you see, the world misunderstanding me resulted in my body being warped, twisted.
Your unbelief caused my body to become only a façade, confusing you and others as to who I am. Related, yes - but disfigured to the point where no one would know who I am. My skin, my bones, my hair, even the crown of my head - all transformed into an unrecognizable costume.
But my face… my face became something even I didn’t recognize.
The effects of your rejection cut deep - in my chin, my brow, my broken nose, and even my sunken eyes. The damage was inflicted over far too long, from deep inside all the way to my hands and feet.
Yes, Thomas… this is my body, broken by you.
But how to repair all of that? With people who had compassion on me. Those who truly did believe me and cared for me in my times of need. People of great skill and knowledge who could care for my body.
But not without cost.
“Hold out your arm” they said. They pierced the skin. The blood flowed.
“Hold out your arm”, they said, as they pierced it again, this time with intent to make me lose consciousness.
“Now you must pierce your leg”, they said. The way I might have hope of a better future, and also that more people might believe me, required additional wounds.2
But the worst? To fix what you broke, I allowed someone to truly break my face. Removing the skin, breaking the bones, working over the course of hours. And after… no one would have been blamed for looking away at the very sight of me. But yet again, blood - blood in the bandages. Vomiting the blood I had swallowed as they carved my jaw. None of which would have been necessary if you had believed me to begin with.
Thomas, friend. This is my blood, shed by you.
But do you know the worst wound? The worst scar is not external. It’s not the one at the top of my forehead, it’s not the one in my side,
No, no, the worst is you still not believing me, for so long. After enduring so much pain because of your doubt, even enduring more to try to persuade you.
Well, one day you looked around the room, and suddenly I was there. In my true form, fully alive, but with the scars you left.
And then, the unthinkable happened. The thing that wasn’t supposed to happen in this story. Despite me being ready to let you examine those scars, to let you finally see and touch and believe, you just … didn’t. Apathetically, you still rejected me.
But I still love you, Thomas. I do. I would not be writing this if I did not. I care deeply for you, I want good for you, and I want to just break bread with you once more, but with you able to see me for who I really am.
Thus far, you have refused to believe, and so my deepest scar remains inside.
Thomas, please listen.
Thomas, beloved.
This is my heart, broken by you.
By now you may be upset. These are quite the accusations I am making, but also quite the claims.
You may be saying: “How dare you use the words of Jesus.”
But did you forget his words?
Jesus himself told you that you would find him as the outcast. The one the world would not accept. He said you would find him among the broken. He said that however you treated them, well, that’s how you treated him. And if I may be so bold… that gives me the right to speak this way.
You have denied knowing me. Or at least, denied the true me.
Jesus would relate.
He’s not in your rules or your judgments.
He’s not in your violent prayers3 against me and my trans siblings.
No, he is in me and so many others you thought weren’t worthy of his love.
You tried to keep us out. So, he came out to us, to the place of rest and freedom. To a place of joy and peace.
Yes, Thomas… Jesus loves me, this I know.
And this is me, giving my love to you.
Thank you4 for reading.
It’s Transgender Awareness Week. If you would like to learn more about trans people, I am going to be delivering a “Trans 101” talk at Claremont United Church of Christ this Sunday, at 11:30am PST. You can contact me for the zoom link if you would like to watch, or you can watch a recording of it on the church’s YouTube channel afterwards.
Additionally, next Wednesday is Transgender Day of Remembrance, where we will remember the trans people we have lost to violence in the past year. Others and I will be leading a service to mark the day, also at Claremont United Church of Christ, at 7pm, November 20th. All are welcome, or you can watch it live on the church YouTube page.
Finally, if you appreciate my writing, I invite you to subscribe for free.
I do not know if she remembers doing this, as we haven’t discussed it. Mom, if you’re reading this, we can talk - I do not hold it against you.
Forgive a poetic simplification - yes there are other ways to take HRT, and HRT is not required for someone to be valid in their transition. But injections are one of the most common ways, and they have worked the best for me.
I strongly recommend watching this, which inspired the phrasing above, with the line “if a prayer has been used as a sword”.
To the Thomas’s everywhere, I apologize for using your name here - the Thomas here is just a reference to the Biblical one, not any modern Thomas.
I have written and deleted a reply several times, and it all boils down to this: if there were words I could say to make things better, I would say them. My heart hurts for you, and my anger towards the people who claim to be Christian but act the exact opposite of Jesus grows daily.
This is so powerful, Celeste. Thank you for sharing.