Raised in the Bible Belt, Raised to Hide

So, to say I’m complicated would be putting it lightly. I’ve known since I was very young that I was trans, but back in the early ‘90s, no one in my small town even used that word. I grew up in what felt like the biggest little city in the heart of the Bible Belt—everyone knows everyone, and if you don’t, you know someone who does. It’s like that game of telephone we played as kids—by the time a story makes its rounds, it’s barely recognizable. When my secret gets out, I know people will talk. That’s part of why I’m writing these stories—so that if anyone actually wants the truth, they can hear it from me. People will still judge, they’ll still gossip, but at least I’ll know I tried to educate those willing to listen. And maybe, just maybe, someone in a similar situation will share it, and someone else will understand.

Back to my life in the Bible Belt. My family practically lived in church. My dad’s dad was an old Southern minister. He spent more time with other people’s families than his own—funerals, marriages, hospital visits. I have few good memories with him. I always feared that if he knew my secret, it’d be over. Now, looking back, he probably would’ve just said he’d pray for me and then cut me off. I’m pretty sure he’s rolling over in his grave now.

Then there was my other grandpa, who might as well have been a Southern Baptist minister. He led the singing in church, and I was close to him. But I know he wouldn’t have tried to understand me, and that breaks my heart, because I tried so hard to earn his approval.

And then there’s my dad. He’s been all over the map—super religious, then not so much, then back again. He always made sure we were in church, but he never went all in. Turns out, he’s got more skeletons than anyone. He’s on his fourth marriage now, super involved in church again, but mostly with other people’s kids. I think he knows he messed up with his own.

I spent so long trying to live up to what those three men expected of me. I built this character I played, and in doing so, I neglected my own happiness. Now, I’ve spent the last few years trying to find my own peace. Some days, I feel like I’m making progress. Other days, I feel stuck. But I’m trying.