Atheist transphobia: Superstition over science

 I’m going to Women in Secularism 3 this weekend, and I feel like this is a good time to get into something relevant: my experiences as a woman in the secular community. Particularly, my experiences as a woman whose gender is often considered debatable. When Dave Silverman went to this year’s Conservative Political Action Conference, the secular community raised a lot of questions about some of the statements he made: Why, exactly, would the president of American Atheists suggest that abortion is the one human right that there’s a secular argument against? But during the much-needed uproar over this, Silverman’s other statements were largely ignored. Yes, he implied that opposing reproductive rights can be a valid difference of opinion within the atheist movement. And that’s not okay. But he also gave the impression that, unlike abortion, the issue of gay marriage was a settled and “clean-cut” question for atheists. Silverman later defended this on Twitter, saying: “How many anti-gay atheists do you know? I can’t name any off the top of my head. I know a few anti-choice atheists.” He continued: “School prayer, Death with Dignity, LGBT equality is 100% religious. That was my contrast.” There weren’t quite so many secular voices pushing back against the idea that opposition to LGBT equality is “100% religious”. Chris Stedman, a Humanist chaplain at Harvard, was one of the few to respond to this, saying: “I’ve heard from atheists who say that I’m too “effeminate,” that my being gay makes atheists seem “like freaks,” or that my “obvious homosexuality” makes me an ineffectual voice for atheists.” It would be easy to think that support for the LGBT community is nearly universal among atheists. What reason would they have to dislike us, when they’re free of any religious dogma marking us as an abomination? And polling data would seem to confirm this. A 2012 Gallup poll found that 88% of those with “no religious identity” supported the legality of same-sex marriage. A 2014 poll by the Public Religion Research The Institute similarly found that 73% of the “religiously unaffiliated” were in favor of legalizing gay marriage. The internet-based Secular Census, consisting of a self-selected convenience sample of secular Americans who volunteered to respond, found even higher rates of support: 97.3% of those who participated said that gay couples should be allowed to marry. It does look pretty open-and-shut: support for marriage equality is apparently the norm among non-religious people, and most of that demographic has indeed settled on this as their answer. There’s just one little problem. “Marriage equality” and “LGBT equality” are not synonyms. Believe it or not, equality for LGBT people does not begin and end with marriage. And a person’s support for marriage equality tells us nothing about their views on employment nondiscrimination protections for LGBT people, housing nondiscrimination protections for LGBT people, LGBT inclusion in the armed forces, the competence of LGBT people as parents, the parental rights of LGBT people, the reproductive rights of LGBT people, the adoption rights of LGBT people, so-called “reparative therapy” for LGBT people, hate crime laws protecting LGBT people, anti-bullying policies protecting LGBT students, public accommodations protections for transgender people, the right of trans people to have their identity documents updated without undergoing invasive surgeries, the coverage of transition-related procedures under healthcare plans, the right of trans students to present and be recognized as their gender in schools, the right of trans people to be free from police harassment and profiling, the right of trans people to be treated as their gender in homeless and domestic violence shelters, the right of trans people to be housed according to their gender in prisons, the right of trans people to receive appropriate medical treatment in prisons, or gender norms and gender variance in general. While there are plenty of polls focusing on marriage equality and the opinions of different demographics on that issue, far less attention is given to these other areas. And that’s a pretty serious gap because many of these issues are of far more immediate importance to us than marriage. Certainly, marriage does matter – my partner and I are getting married this summer. But living in this society as a trans woman is something I have to deal with every day. One thing I’ve often had to deal with is the opinions of other atheists on just about every aspect of my existence. Chris Stedman is far from the only one who’s faced hostility from atheists for what they perceive as a deviation from gender norms. Long before I came out before I transitioned – before I ever talked about trans issues at all – just about the only thing I covered was atheism, and atheists comprised most of my audience. But even back then, plenty of people were already under the impression that I was trans. Here’s what some atheists had to say about my earlier work: “Stop lying to yourself and admit you’re a man.” “Why are you dressed like a girl?” “Denying your gender is called being delusional.” “You’re a transexual? Now you make atheists look bad.” “Zinnia Jones creeps me out too. … Flamers creep me out. A lot. I could never take a guy seriously if he wore makeup and had a girly voice, etc.” “I honestly think he makes an ugly woman.” “This guy is brilliant and always very well-spoken, but I can never use him as a reference for helping me make a point.” “This chick has the golden voice of Ted Williams.” “Why can’t say out loud that someone looks like a freak if he/she does?” “all he needs is boobs now and I’d hit it… not” You can see that these atheists have very positive attitudes toward the LGBT community – assuming the T stands for Thunderf00t. Really, what is going on here? From what I’ve been told, atheists should have no reason to treat us this way. And yet, here they are. So, does this mean that their transphobia is due to some failure to let go of religious views on trans people? Is it just a Judeo-Christian cultural value that they’ve absorbed, and haven’t yet overcome? I don’t think so. When you look at what these atheists are saying, their claims have nothing to do with religion. If you’re wondering how they can be transphobic despite being atheists, you’re asking precisely the wrong question. They aren’t transphobic despite their atheism. They’re transphobic because of their atheism. And I don’t mean that their atheism has made them merely indifferent. No – it’s actively made their transphobia worse. As unlikely as that might sound, it’s pretty obvious from the way they structure their arguments. It’s not an appeal to faith – far from it. They appeal to the values of science, observation, and reality because they feel that these values support their transphobia. In many cases, they compare being trans to believing in God. They’re not speaking the language of religion, they’re speaking the language of secularism. Here’s a really good example of this – from my YouTube comments, naturally: “The odd thing about having a transgender identity is that your mind does not match your biology. If you think you’re a dolphin but you’re not, your belief does not match reality and you’re delusional. If you think you’re a man and you have XY chromosomes, testes, and a penis, then your identity matches reality. How can you have disdain for the religious having no proof of the Divine and yet defend those with no evidence that their gender doesn’t match their genitals?” And another one: “I understand that people can perceive gender and sex to be different. But like an anorexic’s self-image vs. her actual body, one is merely in the mind with no empirical evidence to back it up. When your belief crosses the line where you are willing to mutilate yourself because of it, it’s usually called a disease.” And then there’s this person: “THERE ARE TWO SEXES; MALE AND FEMALE. SOMEONE WHO THINKS THEY ARE THE OPPOSITE SEX IS CALLED MENTALLY ILL.” Notice how this is closely related to the tendency to conflate religious belief with “delusion” or “mental illness”. That itself is a problem – do these people not realize that atheists can have mental illnesses too, and that this isn’t anything like being religious? It’s not like I can just pick up a Dawkins book and decide to deconvert from having depression and anxiety. This alone shows that these people don’t have a very good grasp of what mental illness even is. So it’s not surprising that they’re prepared to dismiss just about anything that they label a “mental illness” – in this case, being trans. But when they go on and on about this, it comes off as more of an expression of a stigmatizing attitude, not an articulation of some uncomfortable truth. They’re not rocking the boat here. They’re not being edgy, they’re not upsetting the status quo. Instead, the sheer redundancy of such a declaration exposes their total unfamiliarity with the medical consensus. Since 1980, three editions of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders have included some kind of diagnosis related to being trans, under names like transsexualism, gender identity disorder, or gender dysphoria. “What the hell is the diagnostic manual of whatever?”, my bewildered atheist YouTube commenters might ask. Oh, it’s just a little book by the American Psychiatric Association. It’s generally considered authoritative by doctors, researchers, insurance companies, and other delusional folks like that. So, let’s say you’ve been diagnosed with gender dysphoria. What happens now that you’ve been diagnosed with this “mental illness”, as my friends in the comments put it? Well, I already know what happens, because I’ve been diagnosed with this! Spoiler alert: I transitioned. And this wasn’t some original idea of mine that I had to convince anyone to go along with. There are millions of trans people around the world – it’s so common that there’s an established treatment protocol for us. It’s called the Standards of Care, published by the World Professional Association for Transgender Health. Here’s what it has to say about our condition: “Some people experience gender dysphoria at such a level that the distress meets the criteria for a formal diagnosis that might be classified as a mental disorder. Such a diagnosis is not a license for stigmatization or the deprivation of civil and human rights. … Thus, transsexual, transgender, and gender-nonconforming individuals are not inherently disordered. Rather, the distress of gender dysphoria, when present, is the concern that might be diagnosable and for which various treatment options are available.” “Stigmatization” – how about that. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to spout off about how we must be “delusional”? I assume that all the decent people out there already understand this, but some of you need it spelled out. And what about those various treatment options? Let’s take a look at section VIII: “Medical Necessity of Hormone Therapy – Feminizing/masculinizing hormone therapy – the administration of exogenous endocrine agents to induce feminizing or masculinizing changes – is a medically necessary intervention for many transsexual, transgender, and gender nonconforming individuals with gender dysphoria.” Section XI: “Sex Reassignment Surgery Is Effective and Medically Necessary – … While many transsexual, transgender, and gender-nonconforming individuals find comfort with their gender identity, role, and expression without surgery, for many others, surgery is essential and medically necessary to alleviate their gender dysphoria. For the latter group, relief from gender dysphoria cannot be achieved without modification of their primary and/or secondary sex characteristics to establish greater congruence with their gender identity. … Follow-up studies have shown an undeniable beneficial effect of sex reassignment surgery on postoperative outcomes such as subjective well-being, cosmesis, and sexual function.” “A medically necessary intervention”. “Effective and medically necessary”. “An undeniable beneficial effect”. And now you know how this particular “mental illness” is treated. By the way, that’s from version 7 of the Standards of Care. Six editions came before it, dating back to 1979. This is not experimental – it’s an everyday medical treatment. So I don’t know what these people expect from me when they start yelling about how I’m “mentally ill”. I already saw a therapist about this. And then they referred me to a gynecologist. And pretty soon they’ll refer me to some surgeons. On the one hand, there’s the constellation of medical professionals who are working with me on this little upgrade and the hundreds more who’ve worked to develop protocols for this over several decades. On the other hand, there’s FluffyFeralMarmot, an esteemed YouTube commenter. Tell me again who I should be taking medical advice from. Transphobes call us mentally ill because they think it’s an easy way to try and shame us for who we are. The problem is that they didn’t give a moment’s thought to what would come after that. They didn’t bother spending five minutes learning about how this is treated, because they were too busy calling us “delusional”. We don’t need medicine to certify who we already know we are, any more than cis people do – but if you’re going to bring science into this, you should make sure the science says what you think it does. Again and again, I see this pattern being repeated by atheists who think they’re equipped to debate trans issues. They assume that science and evidence support their position, when this most often supports the exact opposite of their position. I’ve seen atheists argue that trans women shouldn’t be allowed in women’s restrooms, public facilities, or other spaces, because we’re supposedly going to rape everyone. After all, nothing says “rapist” like testosterone blockers, suppressed libido, genital atrophy, and erectile dysfunction. In reality, a majority of trans people have been harassed just for trying to use public restrooms. Have a majority of cis people been harassed by trans people in restrooms? I haven’t seen any studies suggesting that this is the case. Do you know of any? 55% of trans people in homeless shelters or domestic violence shelters have been harassed while residing there. Have 55% of cis people been harassed by trans women in shelters? I’m not sure if there are any studies on that either, but feel free to find them, if you can. I’ve seen atheists argue that it’s unfair for trans women to be allowed to compete as women in professional sports, or that this gives them a competitive advantage. The Association of Boxing Commissions, the NCAA, USA Track & Field, the UK Football Association, and the International Olympic Committee all allow trans people to compete as their declared gender after medically transitioning. The International Olympic Committee has to ensure that no one has an unfair advantage – but have they consulted that dude on Facebook who won’t shut up about trans women’s “bone structure”? And in the midst of all this, it’s practically a cliché for them to say “It’s 8th-grade biology!” whenever they’re enlightening us with yet another tautology about chromosomes. I guess the American Psychiatric Association just needs to go back to middle school, right? You’d think that these science enthusiasts would realize that early education isn’t a core of foundational truths upon which all later knowledge is built. It’s a rough approximation designed to be understandable to grade schoolers, and it becomes progressively more nuanced as students advance. Instead, they’re doing the equivalent of citing “4th-grade science” to claim that plasma isn’t real, the sun is a myth, and who are fluorescent bulbs trying to fool, anyway? I’m glad that the surgeon who’s going to cut my balls off decided to stay in school after junior high. So, why would people who engage in this transparent nonsense claim that they have science behind them? They don’t exhibit any honest interest in the process of science and its actual findings about reality. They only seem to have a selective interest in the idea of something concrete that would back up their preconceived beliefs. If I didn’t know these people were atheists, I don’t think I would have been able to tell. What else do you call it when someone knows nothing about science and thinks they can blather on and on about it anyway? What do you call it when someone refuses to change their beliefs when faced with evidence? What do you call it when they try to tell us there’s some nonexistent “controversy” to be debated? What do you call it when they think their intuition and baseless conjecture are more reliable than any research? And what do you call it when they don’t even care that this lack of acceptance makes life so much worse for trans people? I sure wouldn’t call that a secular value. How is believing I’m a woman any different from believing in God? Really? Here’s a question: How is believing that transitioning is “mutilation” any different from believing that vaccines cause brain damage? How is believing that trans people have an unfair advantage in sports any different from believing the earth is 6,000 years old? How is believing in an epidemic of transgender rapists any different from believing in “irreducible complexity”? And how is believing that trans people are “deluded” any different from believing that atheists are just angry at God? Sorry, but you’re not Neil deGrasse Tyson giving a science lesson to middle America. You’re Ken Ham telling an audience of faithfully ignorant sycophants how Adam and Eve rode around on a T. rex. Science observation and reality should matter to everyone, and I hope they matter to you. But if you’re leaving out the science, the observation, and the reality, you suck at being a skeptic.As found on YouTubeꜱʟɪᴍᴄʀʏꜱᴛᴀʟ The World’s Only Slimming Crystal Water Bottles! The unique combination of crystals is so powerful that it has been used for decades by crystal healing experts to help thousands of men and women change their lives for the better ➯➱ ➫ ➪➬ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ [Official] ᵘᵖᵗᵒ ⁷⁰% ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ!

How Running Helped Me Explain My Transition To Myself

I’ve been transitioning for the last year or so. I began running because I didn’t know how else to quiet my mind.

Alice Mongkongllite/BuzzFeed

God, I hate running. No — don’t think that. It’s not helping. Just keep going. Run. Run. Run. Mountains, pale green, early spring; carriage trail, dirt, mud. Puddle, dust, roots. Uphill, downhill, flat. Go. Go. Go.

Running, one year and change. Almost 400 miles, one pair of running shoes completely destroyed, another well underway. I’m slower than I was last fall. Thanks, winter lethargy. Thanks, hormones. Some athletes juice to improve their performance; not me, though. My pharmaceutical regimen is actually preventing me from building muscle. I am anti-juicing.

Transitioning from male to female, one year and change. Three and a half decades of denying that I’m transgender, 36 years of a constant inner refrain of “I couldn’t” and “I won’t” have finally shifted to acceptance — “I could,” “I will,” and now, “I am.” 100 milligrams spironolactone twice a day to block testosterone; 6 milligrams estrogen, taken sublingually so it doesn’t destroy my liver. Softer skin, bigger ass. Plus one cup size. Maybe two if I suck in my gut and squint. Just numbers. Doesn’t matter. Keep going. Run. Run. Run.

I began running because I didn’t know how else to quiet my mind. My approach to pacing was simple when I started: I ran as fast as I could. If I still had energy to ruminate, I pushed myself faster. When I couldn’t run anymore, I walked, and when the doubts and questions returned, I started running again. I needed a distraction I’d hate so much that it wouldn’t leave room for anything else. I’d always hated running, so it was perfect. Amazingly, it worked; for a blissful few minutes after every good, long run, I’d feel calm. It does not sound like much, but last year, when I could find little else to hold on to, it was everything.

I always run alone. Especially when I began, though, and all through that first spring, I was never by myself. I carried with me the memory of a relationship that had touched all of my most tender places — the scar tissue that no amount of therapy and no magic number of Al-Anon meetings could ever heal. I ran with the knowledge that on the cusp of my transition, when I had needed support more than ever before in my life, my closest support had opted out. I ran with the overwhelming guilt of knowing that after I had abandoned her months prior, when she had most needed me, I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t deserve the same. No amount of pain, remorse, begging, or prayer could touch any bit of it, though. Villain, victim, and victor were all the same, and every version of the story I kept rehashing in my mind ended with the same line: Here I am, here’s what comes next, and no matter what I do, there’s no way back.

Even though most of me knows I made good decisions last year, it’s hard not to be completely floored by a sense of loss sometimes. Why did I have to do this? I could have kept on as I was.

And so I ran. I ran as hard as I could because I didn’t know if I’d ever again feel the way I’d felt with her, or if anyone else would ever love me that fiercely once I’d passed this boundary. I ran from the poisonous, insidious thought that in my cowardice I’d destroyed the last good thing I’d ever have. No matter how hard I pushed myself, though, no matter how labored my breathing or painful the cramps in my chest, the memory of her and her family — a family that had instantly felt more like home than almost anything else ever had — and my own sense of grief were never far away. They chased after me like ghosts.

What they don’t tell you prior to transitioning is that once the thing you’ve been hiding behind is no longer there, you still need to deal with everything else; the losses accrued in the shadow of a truth you never thought you could live, and the collateral damage from those losses. It’s like addiction recovery, except that there are no 12-step groups for this.

Run. Run. Run. My quads are on fire. My feet are a hot mess of blisters and callouses. My lungs feel like they’re about to explode. Why aren’t I sitting on the couch watching reruns of Buffy? No — stop thinking. Just go.

I’m running from what my therapists have told me: “You’re so strong and good at taking care of yourself.” That’s never felt like an asset to me. If there were easier options, I would have chosen them in a heartbeat. I certainly have elsewhere in my life. Where others see strength, I feel sadness and loneliness. And I can see that some of my “strong” decisions were actually motivated by fear.

I’m running from what friends have asked me: “When are you going to start presenting as female?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to start wearing dresses and heels every day to confirm my gender identity to the outside world? Fuck that. I am presenting as female, 24/7. And most of the time I’m doing it in jeans and a T-shirt, like almost every other woman I know. People who don’t know me are already gendering me correctly as female, and, god help me, even chatting me up and hitting on me when I’m sweaty and gross, out on the trail. Asking me when I’m going to start trying to look more female is bullshit.

I’m running most of all from what acquaintances tell me: “You’re so courageous.” No. I’m not. No one who says this knows what cowardice and doubt have cost me. Putting on a skirt instead of jeans before walking out the door is easy. I don’t really care about the consequences anymore. But staying and fighting for what I most want, for what scares me and what still makes me feel the most vulnerable, is something I struggle with. Calling me courageous just reminds me of where I’ve failed.

Run. Run. Run. My legs are killing me. My chest hurts. What sadistic jackass invented sports bras? Why aren’t I sitting on the couch watching reruns of Xena? I want to stop. I need to stop. OK. I can stop after that next tree. OK, now the next one. Now the next. Jesus, how does such a stupid trick keep working on me? It does, though, and I keep on. Go. Go. Go.

Eventually, without hating running any less, I’ve begun to love it too. As the hormones have been making my body soft, this has been giving me a physical strength I feel good about. My body is finally beginning to feel right, and that’s at least as much from running as from anything else. It’s become my meditation and release, but not all pious and austere like that makes it sound. It’s my sweaty, filthy, balls-out, lungs-bursting, muscles-burning, oxygen-deprived, tachycardial escape. It’s what I’d always wanted yoga to be, but could never find through all the scandals, pseudo-spiritual mumbo jumbo, and self-proclaimed gurus. There are no scandals or mumbo jumbo here, though. There are definitely no gurus. There’s just me.

When my mind becomes quiet on the trail, the soft voices of hard truths become easier to hear. One of the softest, hardest, and most persistent of these is that what I’m doing, transitioning, is not what I most want. What I most want is family. What I’m running after is love. Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? Radically disrupting my biochemistry and sociological categorization is at best an unorthodox route to that, though. At worst, I’m scared that I’m slamming a door shut. Yes, I’m becoming who I am, and that’s wonderful, and I could still find someone, and dreams come true, but the facts on the ground are that my odds of ever partnering with someone again are uncertain. A lifetime of discomfort with my body and my identity, a lifetime spent chasing the illusion of security by secreting myself away and playing small, has meant that I didn’t start dating till I was 30. It’s hard for me to have faith that anyone could ever love this revised, unfettered version of me. I never trusted that anyone could love the old me either. Holding on to unsubstantiated hope for a love and a sense of home that may never come again is exhausting.

This is where I really need courage.

This is where courage has consistently failed me in the past.

So I keep moving where I can. Keep running. Go. Go. Go. Thank god I’m almost at the end of the trail. It’s mostly downhill from here. I’ve already made it further than I thought I would or could, and that feels like a quiet victory. I don’t know how to work toward the common, simpler things I want, like finding a partner and a family, and not jumping ship if I do. So I’m working toward obscure, nearly impossible goals instead, like changing my gender via off-label and largely experimental drug use, and forcing myself to run harder and harder over longer distances while simultaneously decimating my body’s ability to build muscle. If I can’t find the way to my deepest desires of family and love, then I’m going to fight like hell for what I can instead. Maybe in the future toward which I’m finally running, I’ll acquire the skills to do that other work. But the home stretch is still beyond my line of sight, and right now, I need to focus my attention on where I am.


Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/janedemuth/how-running-helped-me-explain-my-transition-to-myself