Mid-May. In a few weeks, it will be one year since I flew into SFO, planning to spend the summer as a volunteer intern with Because Justice Matters. I expected to have a great time with wonderful people. I expected to enjoy BJM and to find meaning in the work they do.
I didn't expect to fall in love.
But I did. I fell in love with the tenderloin. With the women who live on its streets. With unexpectedly beautiful, kind people. My pastor, Paul, said I would see shining goodness approaching me on the street. I fell in love with that goodness. I fell in love with the shining - which catches me by surprise over and over.
The Tenderloin has changed me. My first friend was - and still is - a kind old former hippie who joyfully said, "Who would have thought I'd end up an old queen in the Tenderloin?" We hang out at un Cafecito, our favorite coffee shop, to talk and laugh and spout opinions on all sorts of world problems. Ahhh....someone else with as many opinions as I have!
P is bright - speaks French fluently and, I just learned, used to be an ESL teacher. She's told me bits and pieces of her story. A few months ago, I was feeling kinda crazy and not sure how to handle strange-but-potentially-touchy family event. I headed over to un Cafecito and found P. She held my hand and gave me kleenex and some good advice.
Recently, we had an hilariouslly good time. She asked me "how do you know if a dress is too short?" My comment that "if you raise you hands above your head and everyone can see London" produced howls of laughter. for us both. We talked about whether knees should go into hiding after a woman reaches "a certain age" and she explained to me that, when one guy recently said, "Nice legs, girl" to me he meant it as a compliment - not an inappropriate weirdness. She helped me arrive at a funny-ha-ha (not funny peculiar) understanding of the gap between what men seem to do or say and what they actually intend. Evidently "working it baby" is a compliment in the Tenderloin - who knew? Not me!
We laughed. She said, "I know how guys think. Trust me, I really do understand these things." And reminded me, "You're in San Francisco, now...the air is different here!"
Just the other day, P stepped in to help one of my precious stones, K, think through her opinions and emotions about applying for General Assistance. P understood both the system and K's fear of it with sensitivity and wisdom. P. said, "Please don't sleep out in the rain. Here's my number. You could crash for a night at my place."
Knowing P has changed me. Our friendship has challenged thoughts I never would have admitted, but nonetheless, exist in my mind about friendship and "ministry." The idea that "I minister to" some people and become friends with others.
I would have said, NO I don't believe that. Yet, when "the other" lives in the Tenderloin. Or has had a really, rough past. Or where our differences slide into the no-man's land of class and social status. Maybe I find someone with a similar heart for justice and a huge love for Jesus like mine, yet our lives seem to be light years apart. P and I are similar in many ways. But what about someone else who was a drug addict when I was a college student or spent time in prison while I was busy raising kids in a lovely home in a beautiful neighborhood? Will I reach across the seeming gaps to really, honestly be FRIENDS with others? Not "loving on" (a term I dislike so much I may have to blog about she sheer mass of this dislike!) but simply loving. Be-friending. And being friended back.
So, I wonder, what would my beloved blog-readers think of my also be-loved friend P? I think you'd love her humor and deep thoughts about the world and people. You'd be challenged by her determination to always, always choose love - even when criticism masked as truth-speaking or "being honest" seems more real and maybe even more effective. You'd laugh with (or maybe at?) us when things get crazy at Nail Day and she whispers to me, "the children are acting up again...we may have to send them to the corner."
One of the many reasons my friendship with P has changed me is that, when P says "I really know how guys think" she's not kidding around. Because she used to be one. A guy, I mean.
P is transgender. Her struggle with identity and haunting sense that "he" was really a woman began about 30 years ago. When few people acknowledged such thoughts or struggles. When painful confusion about gender identity was met with "you must be gay....or.... something."
It's painful to think of my friend trying to figure this out alone. Mostly without help or compassionate, supportive community. The absence of support (and the presence of judgement) in Christian circles drove her away from Jesus for a time. But, she returned, because she wanted Jesus more than she wanted to avoid Christians.
So I want to share about my friend. And to tell how her determination to be honest and real - to be her real self, as much as she understands herself - has changed me.
I'm not Holy Spirit. It's my job to love and be loved, not to decide what people should do and not do. Or be and not be. I have light years to go in my understanding of the diverse, often confusing ways we see attraction and love and identity "working" in human beings.
Some people have said, "Why do you say 'she' - if someone is born a male, they're male. that's it." Others have asked if I've been drinking the San Francisco kool-aid and slipped into the abyss of liberal-dom. Still others have commented, "but you're called to ministry with women. Women."
And yet, I find myself surrounded by and loving transgender people who consider themselves - and wished to be considered as - women.
I asked God about this. He said, "Transgender people are....what?" I thought....what? is this a trick question? I don't know...hurting? Confused? Rejected? Then Holy spirit said, "People. They are people. And, what did I ask you to do with people?" I felt a huge wave of relief. LOVE. I'm supposed to love people. Just love them. Whew...I can do that. I don't have to have answers, I do have to have love.
So, I may write more about this journey. About the power of love, pronouns, and respect for people where they are. And about friendship in unexpected - and joyful - places.
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