Sometimes, several things in the media meld into one thing for you; they're unrelated, but somehow, they melt together into one cohesive entity, and that's what I've experienced over the last couple of weeks. Fair warning to my more conservative friends: this may include many triggers for you. God knows it includes many triggers for me.
I won't link to the stories about any of this, but this blog is inspired by my recent considerations of my religious history, the story of Leelah Alcorn and her parents' requirement that she attend Conversion Therapy, and Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and their acceptance of their child Shiloh's self-recognition as a boy (and his preference to be called John), and a gospel story that ended up as part of 60 Minutes' programming.
First, my thoughts regarding religion, which I'll keep vague and brief, because in reality, my relationship with religion is tenuous at best, and because my history is punctuated with painful pieces of my history I've grown and healed from, and therefore would prefer not to relive. Organized religion can be beautiful when it's paired with a true, open heart. When it is not, it's among the ugliest things a person can be faced with, particularly as an "outsider." When I disregard the painful pieces of my personal religious history, I find religion beautiful. I find it heart-healing and lovely and real. But I can't necessarily disregard my painful portions, despite the fact that I absolutely respect people who live their religion with open hearts and minds.
This connects to the story of Leelah Alcorn because her suicide note stated that the majority of her feelings of abject rejection were centered on the fact that her conservative Christian parents would not accept her as a female, and actually made her attend conversion therapy. Side note: Conversion Therapy has been disbanned as a reasonable and real treatment, and since 1997, has not been recognized by the American Psychological Association (APA) (I won't cite here in APA citation style, but here's a good summary: http://psychology.ucdavis.edu/faculty_sites/rainbow/html/resolution97.html).
The best summary I can give you of my personal feelings on this matter was made as a comment regarding Leelah's parents on some article. I don't know where I saw it, but I didn't write it. That comment is:
"They loved their son so much that they killed their daughter."
No, they didn't put the gun to Leelah's head (I don't actually know what her selected method of suicide was, but you understand the metaphor). But the acceptance of a child by their parents is a requisite for their mental health. That remains uncontested in psychological terms. Her mother has been cited as saying she "loved her son unconditionally" but couldn't accept him or his choice to self-recognize as a girl based on religious guidelines.
That is not unconditional love, my friends. End of story.
A few days later, articles begin surfacing about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and how their child, Shiloh, has elected to self-recognize as a male, and they're supporting his decision.
I'll be honest here: I can't fully fathom this, because my daughter is a girl through and through. But I also can't fathom feeling wrong in your skin; feeling like a boy although you've got female secondary sex traits, feeling like a girl even though you've got male secondary sex traits. But I can tell you this: I wouldn't shove my child into a corner and make them live according to my idea of what's acceptable and then blame my lack of acceptance on my religion.
Frankly: I find it beautiful that Brad and Angelina are allowing Shiloh to be called John. If he changes his mind later, so be it, but for now, his wishes should be respected. Who are we to say otherwise?
Finally, I was watching a 60 Minutes episode last night, and it was centered on a Gospel group that allows men and women who have dedicated themselves to the Christian faith later in life to tell their real stories on stage as a way to witness the power of their God in their lives. An interviewer asked one of the men, who had been given up by his mother shortly after birth and therefore never knew her, "Who loved you unconditionally as a child?"
His answer was, "No one."
And this made me start thinking.
It made me start thinking because when I considered the people in my childhood that made me feel loved unconditionally, I only had one response for that question: my grandmother. Definitely not my mother. Not my father. Not my aunts or uncles or cousins.
My grandmother who, may she rest in peace, loved me fiercely. Yes, on my best days. But, even on my worst days. She loved me no matter what, and from that came discipline and affection and kindness.
I had my Grandmother. I wish the list were longer, but it isn't and that just is what it is. John has Brangelina. Leelah didn't have her parents, but perhaps she had friends, though they weren't enough.
As an adult, I have several people in my life that love me unconditionally. They are friends. My husband. My daughter. I watched love as a walking talking person in the grandmother of some of my closest friends. But all of these news stories have melted together for me and now, all I can say is this:
Live with an open heart. Life is too short not to. Love them, and tell them you love them, and don't love them with a list of requirements. Love fiercely. Love always, even if that love has to be pulled away from those who cause you harm. Love yourself more than that person, in those cases.
Love your people. And love yourself.
The end.
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