Losing My (Genetic) Identity

Hello My Dear One,

Last December I gave a sample of my DNA in a saliva filled tube to a popular company, and waited for some genetic answers to my ancestral past. I was hoping to learn more about my history, my ethnicities, and the other exciting things that came with the promises on the box. Like, does dark chocolate make me sneeze?

I guess I should've known that the testing was going to change things for me from the beginning. When I submitted the kit and filled out the online information, I checked the box that said male. But less than a week later I received an email that said I needed to go to my online profile and answer a question. The DNA sample submitted was from a female, and they needed to know if I had checked the wrong box, mixed up samples, or was it a gender identity issue?

So, I changed my profile to match my DNA, because I had to correct a purposeful lie. I'm not really a male of the species. I am a man, which describes my gender identity and expression, but not a male, because that has to do with my biological sex. And according to my DNA, I have 2 X chromosomes, and am for scientific classification purposes, female. I often identify as transsexual rather than transgender, due to medical interventions such as hormone therapy and surgical procedures. Yet, my DNA is forever encoded to produce a human whose first introduction to the world would be "It's a girl!" A thousand years from now if someone tested a single remaining cell of mine, they would never know that I had lived as a man.

A few weeks later when the test results came back, knowing a good portion of my family tree, I was not surprised to see the British Isles genomic markers, or the French/Germanic results. Learning that I have 306 traits of Neanderthal genetics, making me approximately 4% "caveman," wasn't all that odd either. But, it was the absence of some genes that was an issue.

According to my DNA, I am not (genetically) a Jew.

In all likelihood, it's a matter of an incorrect birth certificate several generations back. No, I don't want to do more digging, that information was not what I wanted in the first place.

Regardless, having been raised with a mix of Conservadox Judaism and Protestant Christianity, I've always felt like I'm in the middle of a religious road. Moreover, there is a G-d shaped 18 wheeler bearing down on me at a very high rate of speed.

Now, several months later, I find myself having gone through a wild ride of emotions and thoughts. How do I process this information in the first place? How do I reconcile my sense of self, with my genetic self? What does all of this mean to my faith and spiritual life? Does it make things easier or harder? How much do I actually have to reconcile anyway?

I learned all of this before Chanukah this year, and it shook me. It was so unsettling that I didn't retrieve my menorah from storage, and I never lit a single candle, though I frequently caught myself singing the blessings in my head. Although I try to live my life with no regrets, I decidedly regret not shining light into the darkness.

In the following weeks and months I continued to struggle with this new genetic understanding of myself. Oddly, it's been far more difficult to wrestle with this than with my gender identity genetics. You'd think that my biological sex being proven as the exact opposite of who I know myself to be would be far more traumatizing, or crushing, or painful. But it isn't. That biology doesn't really affect how I walk through the world. With hormones and surgeries I "look" male, and I feel male. Even my brain works and communicates differently than it did prior to transition, or at least that's what my wife tells me.

And, honestly, my gender identity and expression is not who I am at the end of the day. I've always known what my gender identity is, that I was a boy, and now a man. Even when the outside didn't match the inside, I still knew exactly who I was. Rather, it is how I act, how I speak, how I may have helped or harmed another, and how I reconciled that with G-d. Hormones and body parts don't change that reality. They are simply a part of the human packaging.

So if I'm able to make that immensely complicated genetic scramble into something so simple, why has it felt nearly impossible to do so with what could've been as little as 12.5% of my DNA? Who am I if not this flesh and most importantly blood self? How do I know myself as a Beloved Child of G-d, an "Un Homme de Dieu," and a thousand other names for a faith believer? And in the end will it really matter?

The answers to those questions are so massive that I cannot answer them all just yet. Maybe I can't even answer them at all. But, a telling thing happened to me and I guess it provides a hint of what may come.

I was introduced to a young man who is a practicing Muslim, and I immediately said, "Salaam Alaikum!" which is an Arabic greeting meaning peace to you. It is nearly identical to the Hebrew phrase "Shalom Aleichem," which also means peace to you. I happened to be cooking sausages and I shared that I didn't eat pork either since I was Jewish. I quickly pointed out that the people around us, the other members of the church, were not Jewish, but that I was. Yes, I am a member of a church, and apparently, when faced with with someone of a different faith in that setting, I find myself claiming my otherness. And, to be clear, I always greet someone I know to be Muslim with the words Salaam Alaikum, because I want them to know that a white person can be welcoming of who they are. And I do this during presentations as well. I see interfaith dialogue as the only way to truly living out G-d's Dream.

So, there's an answer to all of this. I am an interfaith Beloved Child of G-d, a muddled man of faith, un homme de dieu à plusieurs parties (a man of G-d with multiple parts,) and Heaven knows what else. And hopefully, without sounding too presumptuous, like G-d, I am who/what I am.

Thank you for being on this genetically scattered journey with me.



Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.

Ari

Of Queen Esther and Of [Transgender] Passing

Hello My Dear One,

It was recently Purim, a festival of women's power over oppression, well one woman at least.  We celebrate the courage, character, and faith of Queen Esther as she bravely stood her ground and defeated the "evil" Haman and saved the Jewish people.  She also had a little help from her Uncle Mordecai, and most of all G-d was on her side.  It's kind of a recurring theme of course throughout the Torah, potential Jewish annihilation thwarted at the last possible moment through devout belief in the reality and power of the one true G-d.

We Jews, admittedly, and with good reason, frequently display a persecution/oppression complex.  It's been going on for millennia, and the most recent attack of the Shoah [Holocaust] where 6 million Jews were actually annihilated, makes a definitive case for fearing the loss of Jewish lives and culture.  It's true, being Jewish is often a liability, but I have observed many individuals for whom more traditional practice strengthens their Jewish identity, and protects the core of the Judaism, as they see it.

Now, I am not a particularly "observant" Jew.  I do not really keep kosher, however it is a part of my consciousness and I don't eat cheeseburgers, pork, or bacon, except when there is bacon and it looks too delicious not to consume.  And for the record, every time a crack an egg I look to see if it has been fertilized or not, and then proceed to use it regardless, because I'm too cheap to waste eggs.  I do not possess multiple sets of dishes, pots and pans, silverware, knives, or other kitchen needs.  And although I am fully fluent in the kashrut understandings of meat, dairy, and parve, I can't remember the last time I actually looked at a label to see if it was "appropriate" for the particular dining event.  You don't really need to when it comes to matzoh anyway.  Then again, I eat leavened bread during Pesach, and no, I am not Sephardic, I am Ashkenazic through and through.  I suppose one of the few remnants of food directives that I keep is guilt.

But wait, there's more.  I do not attend services very often, sometimes it's no more than twice a year.  I don't observe all the holy days, there have been many years I didn't even light candles during Chanukkah, and perhaps worst of all, I married a gentile.  Yep, I married goy.  And my sons are being raised in her faith tradition of liberal christianity.  And ultimately, I would rather they have a strong faith in essentially the same G-d that I believe in, even if it involves different rites and rituals.

And all of this brings me to Purim, to a story of the religious fortitude of an ancient character that continues to inspire millions of Jews.  Even a not-particularly-observant-Jew like myself feels a swell of pride and purpose as the Megillah is recited, if only in fragments in my mind.  The story of a woman who hides who she is from her husband, still maintains contact with her openly Jewish uncle, and ultimately foils a plan to eradicate her people by an "other" who seeks to blot out a faithful and reasonably peaceful group of people.  And maybe that's the special hook in the story, the way that Esther is able to conceal her Jewishness, even from the king.  Because, for all intents and purposes, even those of us who "look" Jewish, don't have some outward difference that marks us as Jews.  Note: I recognize that in the past, circumcision was an outward sign, however one wasn't usually walking around displaying this to the public, and nowadays, circumcision is a remarkably common practice in the United States for all newborn males.

You see, unless we go around wearing kippahs or yarmulkes, or fringe hanging out from under our shirts or some other accessory of Judaism, we can pass as non-Jews.  And this has happened throughout history.  Jews have shed their traditional clothing for the local culture's and assimilated into society.  And let's face it, assimilation is a lot easier than following hundreds of arcane rules and laws that were meant for people living thousands of years ago.  Laws keep people in line, and if you make sure that the dress code is a legal issue, then you can further ensure group unity.  But, when you take the uniforms away, the custodian and the principal cannot be told apart, or the priest from the beggar, or maybe even the man from the woman.

And that idea, that we can't tell who's who, or how we should treat them is scary.  Plain and simple, we want to know how to address someone because we have different rules for different people, and we don't want to insult a greater person or mistakenly elevate a lower one.  It's a sad truth I have learned as an intersex and transgender individual, particularly one with mental illness who happens to be Jewish.  Sometimes I think I should get a prize for having membership in so many minorities, but that would defeat the purpose.  Anyway, how we interact with another person is based on a myriad of assumptions, and when we can hide parts of ourselves, we are able to avoid some of the prejudices that we fear encountering.

But back to Queen Esther, back to how she and I actually meet in the middle of Judaism and gender identity.  She and I both occupy spaces that can be challenged when our "true" identities are discovered.  Queen Esther is passing as a non-Jew in a place where being a Jew is risky at best.  She has found a way to live in a situation that was not entirely of her choosing, and live well, even at the cost of an outward profession of her faith.

And so am I.  In my day to day life I pass as a "normal" heterosexual male, married, with two sons, living an average life in rural Maine.  I pass so completely that even my wife sometimes forgets that my transgender self could be a problem for other people.  She knows me, all of me, and yet sees me as totally male inside and out and even I marvel at this.  Frankly, I see myself the same way, as male inside and out, and I project this image to the world around me.

But I have chosen not to go "stealth," to live as though I was never female, as though I am not a transman, as though I do not have an intersex condition, as though I am a "normal" heterosexual male.  I have chosen to expose my past and my present realities in very public ways.  I have chosen to write, to speak, to share, and to confide in people my true identity, even if it could cost me all the stability I have in the world.  I choose to live my truth.

And that of course is where Queen Esther and I meet in the middle of faith and comfort.  We have both chosen to reveal our souls to those who might harm us for who we are.  And of course I do this with my own faith, not just my gender identity, as I share the duality of my religious experience in a rural community where diversity is non-normative.  I also share my battle with the Beasts of my mental illness, the quirks of my brain, the realities of who I am.

Sometimes I wonder if I should just keep my mouth shut and go stealth, maybe pack up and move the family to a whole new place and pretend that my past didn't happen the way it really did.  But
as my pastor recently reminded me, I am not someone who blends.  I am outspoken, opinionated, stubborn, and stuck firmly in the belief that all people deserve the right to live their lives as they choose.  So even if I moved, I would undoubtedly find ways to expose myself for who I am, giving lectures, writing, revealing, confiding, and sharing the truths of what it means to be a transman who refuses to hide.

Why would I do this?  Why would I stay as open as I am, when given a chance to pass as normative?  Because, although I cannot save all the transgender people in the world, I, like Queen Esther can save the ones around me.  I can help my transgender brothers and sisters free themselves from isolation, persecution, depression, and fear by showing that I can live out loud.  

I can live without fear of discrimination, because I know that someone else's dislike of me says more about them than it does about me.  I can live without fear, because I know that who I am, is the me that has been called into being.  I can live as myself, because I live in the presence of a G-d who loves me exactly as I am.  I can live, because I have chosen not to die, not to accept the hatred, not to accept the darkness that has surrounded me time and time again.  I choose to live life.  

Every day I offer to shed light on dark and hidden subjects that have repressed us all, as we all live in the shadows and on the margins of the potentials we can be.  By living as authentically as possible, I can show that regardless of biological sex, gender identity, and/or sexual orientation, we are all valuable and valued children of G-d.  We all need unconditional love.  We all need each other.  And with G-d's help, we are capable of creating and sharing that love with each and everyone of our neighbors.

Thank you for being light and love on my journey.


Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.

-Ari