PGP’s are now the rage. (That’s Preferred Gender Pronouns.) And there is controversy as to when it is appropriate to call a nurse who has earned his or her (or hir or zie) Ph. D “Doctor”. Doctors – that is, M.D.’s – oppose the idea because of the confusion it can create in patients. “Hello, I’m Dr. So-n-So; I’m your nurse.” It reminds me of the opening of the Veggie Tales Videos in which a bright red object appears on the screen, looking very much like a tomato, and exuberantly says: “Hi! My name’s Bob! I’m a tomato!”
In the realm of gender identity, the confusion rises up for me in a blog by Oscar McNary. Oscar is trans, but refuses to take testosterone. Oscar uses the Men’s room for relief but battles with feelings regarding safety. Oscar “threw down the high fee to change my name at the King County Courthouse. So, now I’m Oscar at work, and I piss in the men’s room.”[1]
“I have the power to demand respect regarding my gender,” writes Oscar, “even though I will never pass.”
In that one sentence I hear a feigned certainty, a hopeful confidence. I hear a person struggling to know just exactly who they are.
Am I a ‘doctor’ or a ‘nurse’? Why should we care who gets called what? In a very real sense, we care for the same reason Oscar or Katy cares about pronouns. What we call ourselves can have a great impact on our personal pride, our confidence, to say nothing of the amount of money we earn and power we wield.
The question of what we call ourselves arises for persons engaged in ministry, too. When is it appropriate to call a person “Pastor”? What are the connotations of that word? I know of persons whose title “bishop” has nothing to do with an ordination and everything to do with how they see themselves functioning. Perhaps the key there – and the heart of the problem for me – is how they see themselves …
Katy Butler, a junior in Ann Arbor, Michigan, is quoted in the NY Times as saying: “You have to understand, this has nothing to do with your sexuality and everything to do with who you feel like inside… Maybe one day you wake up and feel more like a boy.”[2]
I don’t want to trivialize this, but it reminds me of the Almond Joy/Mounds commercial from the early 1970’s – Sometimes you feel like a nut; sometimes you don’t. That may work when it comes to your current preference in candy; I’m not sure it works as well regarding your gender, to say nothing of your physiology. The challenge for Oscar, Katy, and all the rest of us is to demand respect not because of our gender, but in spite of it.
Oscar admits to being “young”, and Katy is 16. Both may well be at a time in life when exploration is appropriate in a lot of ways. But at some point they have to stop worrying about having to tell people who they are, or who they feel like, and start being consistently and authentically themselves.
Jesus expressed at least a passing interest in knowing who other people thought he was. It had nothing to do with gender identity, but still – the question stands. There is more than a modicum of truth in the notion that who we think Jesus is will have a profound impact on how we relate to him. The question emerges from Jesus less from a place of personal uncertainty and more from a place of invitation. We are invited to see him as Lord, as Savior, as Healer, as Forgiver, as Messiah, as Friend – as any or all of those. Here’s the catch: How we perceive Jesus will have a great deal to do with how we come to see ourselves.
For the Oscars and the Katies and the bishops and the “Reverends” and the hims, hers, hirs, zies, theys, thems, and even the whatevers, and all the rest of us, the truth of who we are is not best determined by how we feel on any given morning. It has little to do with putting the money down to change our name. It certainly isn’t a matter of which room we enter to relieve ourselves. The truth of who we are is determined by the integrity of our own lives, the manner in which we relate to others, and – for me, at least – the extent to which I am willing to let Christ live within me.
Christ within me – that may not be who I am; but as long as I continue to make that the top priority in my life I find I can go to sleep and wake up with a humble assurance, a quiet confidence, a deep certainty that I am loved. If I could speak with Katy and Oscar, that’s how I would want to see them, too. Loved.
Leave a Reply