Evangelicals - gah...

I must confess myself more than a little stunned at what I have found out this evening.

In my days in Leeds, I always felt uncomfortable with standard forms of Christian evangelism, such as "door-knocking" or "street-preaching".  It seemed too intrusive, too invasive, too impolite and not giving people the respect they deserved.  I was part of a church drama group, and we were asked to do some pieces on the streets in York as part of an evangelistic exercise.  Also invited was a young American guy named Todd Farley.  He did mime to music, contemporary Christian music.  I stood there almost open-mouthed as he was able to draw a crowd in.  Ok, the music was loud and "different", but even so people just stood and watched.  He then did a workshop, which I went to in order to see if I could add some depth to characters I portrayed.  I came out a trainee mime, and joined with four others in Leeds to create a troupe.  The last 3 years of my time in Leeds were dominated by mime ministry, and we were invited as a group by Todd to tour with him in Norway.

Even after I left Leeds, I was still involved in Todd's organisation for a while - until I moved to Scotland and it all got too difficult.  I grew to know this guy a little - his love of Star Trek, his sense of comedy, his flaws too - such as the occasional "pig-out" on things which really weren't too good for him!  And then - silence.  Occasionally I would have a look on Mimeistry's website to see what was going on, but marriage and work meant that I was no longer fit enough to do what I had done before.  It was more occasional interest than a strong desire.

I found Todd on Facebook last month, and decided I would see if he would become a friend to this strange woman.  He did.  And this evening I was thinking of him, so decided to look up his history on his "new" website.  And came away feeling stunned.

He and his wife, Marilyn (who I also really enjoyed being with) are now divorced.  He was disowned by Mimeistry for announcing that he believed practising gay people could be ministers in the church.  He has had divorce, death (of his mother and brother) and a loss of career to deal with in the last 2 years.  I was amazed - partly because I never thought that he would be someone who would make that stand for gay people in the church, although I don't really know why I thought that.  I was shocked that divorce had happened - although I realise that I only really knew them in their very early years of marriage.  And I'm left with some questions too.  Is he gay himself?  After all, Ray Boltz, who's music Todd used very powerfully, came out as gay a couple of years back, and was shunned by the evangelical Christian community as a result.  Todd talks about being an advocate for a gay friend - was that Ray?

Part of me thinks "good riddance - these evo fundie types cut off their noses to spite their own faces again - I hope the whole edifice fails".  But part of me is also sad, to see yet another person damaged by all of this, and this time someone who I did actually care for and respect, and who was in very, very deeply.  I'm surprised at how deeply I'm moved by it.  I guess it's because in 1990 I almost gave up my job to work with Todd for three months - unusually Todd gave me the choice - and also I guess because I look at what I could so easily have become or remained - a vindictive, small-minded, legalistic Christian.

Fear and the Future

So, the recovery is going well, and so is business.  I feel strangely disconnected from the way the media is reporting the economy, which appeared to be borne out by a solicitors trade event I attended in December.  We're growing, having recruited another part-time support "bod", and have a healthy pipeline, and are on course to be profitable again this year.

The question about our youngest's secondary education has been looming for a while - even though she's only in year 5, and has another 9 months to make a choice.  But she's a performer, loves singing and acting, and the school she attends pays lip service to those skills, preferring instead to concentrate on the "academic" subjects which they are monitored on.  Meanwhile, we're paying for out-of-school "classes" which she enjoys, although all of us feel that they're really not doing anything new.

Before I went to Thailand, I was hunting around for alternatives to these out-of-school classes, and stumbled across a drama school a few miles away that ran a day school.  Hmmm, I thought, and stored it away for future use.  Then, in January, J and I had a discussion about Z's secondary education, wondering how she would cope with the conformity that would be expected there.  Well, I said, there is another alternative...

The upshot of which is that, on Friday, we went to this school in Maidenhead, and came to the conclusion fairly quickly that Z would absolutely love it.  The issues are (a) distance, (b) the loss of certain subjects from her education, that we would have to supplement somehow, (c) the worry that it becomes a hot-house for stage, (d) the worry about the apparent focus on dance, which Z isn't so good at, and (e) the reaction of J's parents.  Actually, money is a worry too - although I'm trying not to think of that.  Having worked to build up a small annual extra reserve, to think that it will simply be swallowed up each year...

I do think that you can do pretty much anything to kids up to the age of 16.  While GCSE's may prove useful in some things, by the time you get past your mid-20s, they're pretty irrelevant.  And I do think that Z is bright enough (perhaps too bright) to do well in them almost whatever she does.  It means that we will have to work harder and get much more involved with her education in the future.  Are we doing the right thing by her?  You simply don't know - you'd have thought that I would have learnt that lesson by now, don't you!

But J and I agree that we'd be kicking ourselves if we didn't at least push the door a little.

Post-op

Thailand was an amazing set of experiences. Third world affluence next to first world poverty. So much human kindness in a jungle that hid viciousness. Phuket beaches showed struggle amidst much beauty. It was my first trip to Asia (as long as you don't count the 2 hour stopovers in Singapore en route to Australia).

There was a lot of emotional turmoil as J and I arrived in Phuket. Why was I having this operation? Would I be admitted? Would everything work afterwards? Then suddenly I was checked into the hospital, given the laxative (that tasted absolutely foul - they gave me two lots), and then met Dr Sanguan - who was incredibly reassuring. I had already worked out by then to stop thinking about "lasts" and start thinking about "firsts" - and I slept very well the night before - which I think is relatively unusual.

The next morning things all just happened. Dr Sanguan's question of "Shall we do this, then?" was met with a gruff "just get it done", and then the theatre lights looked strange, and then I woke up.

There were a couple of complications - some of the skin graft didn't take, and then I was fighting a steptococcal infection - but things generally seemed to go well. Two weeks in the hospital passed - getting used to the routine - wake up around 5:30am for routine checks, "sawat dee ka Helen" at 6 for an inspection of "the wound", breakfast around 7:30, "I clean room" and "Clean body?" around 8:30, Dr Sanguan between 9 and 10, and so on. Then a slightly delayed discharge into a hotel around 30 minutes away from the hospital. On first appearances the hotel was wonderful - until you discovered the hordes of tiny ants and the geckos in the bathroom!

My friend Jo came out to look after me for the last couple of weeks. She hired a car for the last week - and it was great having the freedom to travel around a bit, even though I was tired and had to sit on a soft doughnut cushion. Her domestic situation is abysmal, and I could tell that, two days before travelling home, she was dipping down - what was she going back to. Mind you, I was more than ready to go back, even to a British late autumn with dark nights and rain. The last Friday was very flat, with yet another day's rain in Thailand, and there were delays all over the shop on the flights back to Heathrow.

And so I'm back in the UK, fortunately with pictures to remind me of things I saw. It certainly was an amazing set of experiences.

"Do you have any regrets" is a question I've been asked a few times. The glib answer, and the one I give, is a fairly quick "no" - and largely that's true. Certainly the amazement that I "look right" now when I look in the mirror, and a sense of calmness for the last few weeks make me think that I have chosen right - even though I still feel "tied" to the bed with dilation three times daily and not a lot of energy, and even though things are still sore. The regret is actually that I don't think there would have been a way to stay as I was for much longer, and what that does specifically to J. She has been wonderful, very affectionate and caring - despite getting a bit lost in exploring her faith again in the last week or so.

I'm also grateful that the BBC decided not to carry out filming. Apparently the senior editor felt that transsexualism was too adult a topic to show at 8pm on a weekday evening - somewhat ironic that Sky 3 showed a series called "Sex Change" at 8pm on a weekday evening! But I wouldn't have had the energy to deal with the filming in a way that I would have been happy with.

Three Weeks

... and I'll be post-op - at least the first stage.

The last few months have been odd. All the questions that I thought I'd addressed suddenly resurfaced - loads of what if questions and "it's a mistake" type feelings. It has taken me quite some time to realise that (a) I'm very happy living as female - and in the current arrangement as long as there's not too much grief, (b) I simply cannot visualise myself living as male any more - it's just not an option, (c) I've always wanted to be female, and while surgery isn't going to make me any more female than I already am, it at least removes one of the major remaining male markers. So, I want the end result. What the questioning ultimately revolves around is the fear of the process, not the fear of the result.

I don't like hospitals. I don't like pain. I don't like being inconvenienced. There's the fear that, actually, something will go wrong and I'll end up numb or incontinent or just constantly uncomfortable. If there was a way to "grow" the female parts or some other "magic" option - I would go for that like a shot! But there isn't - surgery is the only way.

The secondary part is that the medication must be slowly pickling my liver. I know that my digestion is not great, and wonder whether that's a sign. Removing the need to take some of that medication has to be good for me in the long run.

J has been great. She's in typical pre-trip bustle mode (which she uses to hide her panic about loss of routine). Her parents, however, are not being great. Basically they are very afraid, and I think are looking for reasons why I should not have surgery. Their evangelical Christian background and outlook is causing problems. It has become obvious (to me at least) that they have barely coped with me for the last few years, and probably underpinned it with a belief that, underneath it all, I was still fundamentally male and could still return. Inverting genitalia seems to be irreversible to them - and they don't want that conflict. It doesn't help that Thailand is in political turmoil at the moment!

And now I've responded to a request from the BBC to film around surgery. Of course, because I'm still married, the bravery angle they want is now doubled, because J "needs" to be part of the story. I think we do have a story to tell (even though I'm not quite sure what it is and why it's so different to anyone else's). Surprisingly J, after some initial concerns, seems quite up for meeting the BBC lady, so hopefully that will happen tomorrow. After all, they don't have long to get things arranged.

Northern Flights

Scotland was wonderful, even though Edinburgh was cloudy and cold despite the rest of the country sweltering with temperatures in the mid 20s. It was also the first time I've ever been on a diverted flight - Edinburgh was fog-bound so the plane couldn't land. But in the evenings I was able to get out and drive around - very ecologically unsound! You don't get many days when the sun shines brightly in the Highlands.

The sense of space and freedom was great - but I must admit that I do prefer the West Highlands. OK, Perthshire does have real mountains and lochs, but you just get the sense that civilisation is only ever 20 minutes away.

It was also good to see Keith and Becky. Keith was the leader of the church we went to in Glasgow, and we got to know them and their family quite well when we lived up there. Eventually the story of the loss of faith came out, together with all the responses I've come to expect - "don't confuse the church with God" and so on. The interesting thing was that they have obviously been so conditioned to not give up on church that they continue to do things for it despite Becky having a collapse of faith herself a few years ago. Also they want to re-define (or, probably, more accurately, un-define) God. The clearest definition I could get was that "God is love", and that the picture the church has painted for hundreds of years leads you to no other option that God is a monster - well, in their view, God is obviously not a monster so the church must be wrong.

Anyhow, when the time came to fly out from Edinburgh on Wednesday evening, I was actually quite sad. The implementation had gone well and wasn't very taxing - finishing in the mid-afternoon every day. The weather outside of Edinburgh was warm and sunny, and I had a car and the freedom to just ramble around.

J and I had an interesting discussion last night fed from my discussions with Keith and Becky. Again, it centered around what God was, if anything. I asked two simple questions. The first was "doesn't the existence of hell invalidate the concept of an all-loving God?" (within the framework that God does exist) - either God is all-loving in which case hell cannot exist, or God is not all-loving. The second is "what is sin?" - based on the Christian notion that death is the punishment for sin, yet creatures were dying millions of years before mankind ever existed - so did God know that mankind would sin? J was trying to work out her position on heaven. Fundamentally her view now is that people would go there based on how good they were - but then, I asked, didn't that mean that someone or something had to make the decision. After all, you can argue that Mugabe did good for the people of Zimbabwe twenty or more years ago, and you can argue that Hitler did good for the German people in the mid-1930s. So what decides whether the bad you have done outweighs the good - and therefore doesn't that mean that God is all-powerful? Ah, came the reply, the Bible doesn't teach that. Yes it does!!!

The Treadmill Moves On

J admitted that she nearly went to the small group last Tuesday (when I was away) but then she was turned off by the topic under discussion. So that break actually wouldn't have been a break at all - it would have coincided with the holiday break that the group took.

Yesterday she was in a "humphy" mood all day - nothing was quite good enough. We had some friends of mine over on Monday, and apparently both of them had asked her why she didn't go to another group rather than persisting with the Baptist Church. She asked me why they had asked her - truthfully, I said I didn't know. And then last night she was even more "humphy" - "I'm bored". She had tried contacting a friend so she could go out. Then she admitted that she wanted to go to small group. I said, in some fury, "go then, your break lasted one week" - "three", she said before storming upstairs. She did come down calmer an hour later, but she's still in a foul mood today. I mentioned going to Australia yesterday evening - "I don't want to go"...

She admitted last week that she didn't even believe it! She's looking for excitement in a life that doesn't really allow it. I would have loved to go out with her last night, just somewhere different, but then the childcare options kick in. She has much more social interaction than I do - yet somehow there's something still pulling her into church. Guilt? Fear?

Going Up North

Well, I've got to pack my bags and drive to Nottingham this evening. Last time I went there, I arrived at the hotel only to find I had left my handbag at home. Must make sure not to do that this time.

Then from Nottingham it's up to Edinburgh to see a new client. To be honest, I'm looking forward to that part of the trip, even though it's going to take me over 5 hours to get from Nottingham to Edinburgh, and I'll get there in the dark. I'm staying over at a friend's in Newcastle on the way back, and the drive through the Borders should be glorious - no, I'm not going along the A1. I'm also looking forward to doing the installation in two days time - hiring a car and getting into the Highlands (well, the Perthshire bit) on an evening. I need the mountains!!!

I must get on and book something in Wales for the end of May. I'm sure there won't be anything left...

J and I watched a fascinating programme last night about science and spirituality. It was actually presented very well, asking questions like "what constitutes madness?", "what actually goes on?" It was odd, watching the snip from the Hillsong church in London. It was very like the church in Leeds used to be - and there was an emotional tug there - almost as if I just wanted to be back in that environment, even though I knew it was an emotionally manipulative one. They had some speaking in tongues too - well, I can still do that, and I know that's not an exclusive Christian experience.

J and I discussed it at the end of the evening. I don't think she believes in Christianity at all now - she said it was unimportant, and said today that she doesn't believe the Bible (or believe in the Bible). But she does feel a connection to something bigger than herself - which I can understand even if I no longer feel it. I think she's slowly realising that the only reason she wants to go to the small group is for the social side - she said as much this morning, and my response is the same, I would willingly go for the social elements but it's too difficult to opt out of the spiritual ones and you end up with few points of contact. She said she almost went tonight (see, I thought it wouldn't last much beyond the standard break), until she found out what was on the agenda. So I think we're trying to arrange some social stuff to "fill the gaps".