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We Are Our Sibling's Keeper
I spent four hours yesterday at the Texas capitol listening to assurances by senators that the Texas bathroom bill was neither about bathrooms nor transgender persons. One insightful senator asked whether the senate had asked any experts about what it means to be transgender, to transition, and what the affect would be on them with this bill. He pointed out that they call in experts on every other subject but were guided by their own ignorance on this bill. Truth.
The facts are that people who are transgender have been around longer than this republic. This is a contrived problem intended to harass, shame, and demonize transgender people. It is a solution waiting for a problem. The effect of having birth certificate driven bathroom use is that we will need a potty police. Women and children will not feel safer as law abiding transgender men will be forced to use the women's restroom. The law will actually force a population to break social convention leading to opportunistic bullying, harassment, or wrongful punishment.
Police departments all over the state oppose this bathroom bill just like they have opposed the presence of handguns in houses of worship. Do we no longer listen to law enforcement about what makes their jobs easier to prioritize what is important?
Wearing my collar, sitting directly in front of Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, who convenes the senate, I listened to the author of SB3 invoke "400 pastors" who support her position. In response, another senator, brought forth 208 signatures, including mine, of clergy that oppose the bathroom bill. You are welcome to read our letter here:
The Texas senate ultimately passed the bathroom bill 21-10. It now heads to the Texas House for consideration. A reminder to you that the interfaith community will gather at the capitol on Tuesday August 1, 2017 to communicate our concerns to the House. Rev. Sallie Watson, General Presbyter of Mission Presbytery, will be joining us that day.
Then today, the President of the United States fired 7,000 military personnel who are transgender. The assumption is made, as it always is, that those who are not understood or who make us uncomfortable, cannot perform the job. The truth is, if you are LGBTQ, a person of color, or a woman, you have to do the job twice as well and, even then, your job security and pay is ½ the value.
It's getting tiresome, I know. It is very hard to hear about these things over and over again. But the gospel of Jesus Christ promises freedom for the oppressed and we are the Body of Christ active in the world. If it is not up to us, then who? We are one of the few churches in Austin that are a safe place for transgender people. We have members and former interns and pulpit supply preachers that are transgender. Truly this is about us and our community.
Finally, I wish we could confine ourselves to transgender advocacy or our favorite single cause. That would be convenient and maybe even satisfying but the times demand that we stand up for the humanity of immigrants and those needing healthcare as well as others. Lives are on the line across the board.
As we consider the broad hurts of humanity in this new world and our potential response, I commend to you this poem by
Niyi Osundare, a Nigerian poet, who speaks of why we have to continue to advocate for all who are under attack by the powerful. We are our siblings' keeper so we stand vigilant for them...and for us...
Not My Business
They picked Akanni up one morning
Beat him soft like clay
And stuffed him down the belly
Of a waiting jeep.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
They came one night
Booted the whole house awake
And dragged Danladi out,
Then off to a lengthy absence.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
Chinwe went to work one day
Only to find her job was gone:
No query, no warning, no probe -
Just one neat sack for a stainless record.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
And then one evening
As I sat down to eat my yam
A knock on the door froze my hungry hand.
The jeep was waiting on my bewildered lawn
Waiting, waiting in its usual silence.
-Niyi Osundare
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