Author’s note: this is an opinion piece, more so than most of my writings because my knowledge of the subject is highly limited—not by choice, and I listen to all those I can.
I grew up in a bigoted/Evangelical environment. In fact, I was born into it. I was born Catholic, then Lutheran, then the “Jesus movement,” until I was nine, when my mom met and married a Seventh Day Adventist. From the time I was nine until my mom finally divorced my stepdad when I was eighteen, that was the only religion I knew. When I ventured out on my own, I ended up trying various versions of the Assemblies of God, before I finally jumped into the Foursquare denomination, where I would spend at least fifteen years of my life.
The one thing that all of these groups had in common, is they hated gay people. And this isn’t hyperbole. This isn’t calling those who disagree with us “haters.” They hated us. I remember, to this day, how gleeful they were to learn that Rock Hudson had AIDS because he was gay. They “rejoiced” that his life would serve as a warning to other gay men and women.
When I finally realized that I was gay, somewhere in junior high, I knew I had to hide it or I could be killed… literally). In high school, I sought out therapy. Out of high school I joined ex-gay groups like Living Water, Fratelli Deo, and Exodus International. I sought therapy and did everything I could to change my sexuality. I tried hard to remove what was between me and God because I wanted to be close to God. Seriously, I thought I loved him. He was more than a father to me. I wanted the relationship with God the prophets had (before I knew how much they struggled with that relationship).
But of all those years, one thing stands out to me more than anything else. The church I was attending at this particular time had a so-called “prophet” visit them for a week, and we all attended faithfully. I felt he was a little arrogant, but I didn’t really question his credentials. He was a prophet, and I had wanted to be a prophet since I was ten-ish. At the end of each night’s service, he took questions, and one of the questions asked was, “What is the unpardonable sin?” based on the verse in Mark 3:
Assuredly, I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the sons of men, and whatever blasphemies they may utter; but he who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has 1forgiveness but is subject to eternal condemnation.
Mark 3:28–29
From the moment those words were written down and credited to Jesus, the question has been asked, “What is the unpardonable sin?” Jesus, in this verse was ambiguous, as he was in so many verses, that people can take it to mean almost anything they want it to mean. And that’s exactly what my prophet did. He said, flat out, “the unpardonable sin is the sin of homosexuality.”
When I heard him say this, I sat frozen in my chair. Stunned. Overwhelmed. And downright terrified. I knew “logically” that this was not true, but my emotions told me something completely different. I had dedicated my life to ridding myself of this horrible scourge, this thing that made God an “enemy”—and according to this prophet, none of it mattered. I had sinned against God in such a way that I would never be forgiven, and God would never love me.
I seriously can’t describe how that felt. My brother-in-law was blown out of the sky when the KC 130 he was flying fell apart over Mississippi. My little brother died during open heart surgery when I was ten (he was seven). I held my grandmother’s hand as she took her last breath in the world. And a so-called prophet said that simply by being gay, I had committed the unpardonable sin.
Like I said, logically I knew it couldn’t be true, but emotionally it devastated me.
Enter Harry Potter. One of the most profound stories in modern times. Loved worldwide. Books, movies, merchandise, games (online and LARP) … a character so close to the heart and we loved him deeply: because of his compassion, his commitment to what was right, and his determination to overcome evil. We all know where that story came from: J.K. Rowling. And we loved her for the characters she created. She as a hero. She was our “prophet.” She showed us a way against evil.
Then… suddenly… there was a series of tweets, an essay on her Webpage, and then another series of tweets doubling down on her beliefs that trans men and women are victims of the ‘unpardonable sin.’ (“Unpardonable” is the word I use because it helps with the metaphor.)
I’m not trans, and to be honest, I only know a small number of trans people, but I picture them all, sitting in my chair, listening to the great storyteller, and hearing themselves called out as an “enemy of hers.” They know in their heads this isn’t true. They’re just as human as she is, but their ‘hearts’ say something completely different. And they’re devastated. And maybe, they’re willing to end it all thinking there’s no hope. I’ve been there. I know those feelings (though from a much different perspective). Someone they loved and trusted has betrayed them in the most hideous way possible, but they don’t see it as ‘betrayal,’ because they’ve been told their entire lives that her words are true, even though they “know” she’s wrong. They trusted her. She was their mentor.
As a gay man, I love being both a man, and men (and their bodies). So, to say I understand the trans experience is not even convincing, let alone the truth. I don’t. when I was in high school, I “fantasized“ about being a girl, but only because I wanted to get laid so bad, and Riverton, Wyoming was not the place to let my freak-flag fly. Now I just want to be a guy who is adored by guys (and women too, but we can only be ‘girlfriends’).
As a writer, I realize how devastating words can be. There’s extraordinarily little I can say that will make those who just had the wind knocked out of them feel better. And I know better than to try. But I know the “feeling.” I recognize the struggle. And I’m years down the road from it, yet it remains one of the most powerful memories in my mind. I honestly don’t understand her “position” on this. Her words make no sense. She reminds me of my Evangelical friends trying to justify their own homophobia. They made up the weirdest reasons for their hatred, but none of them were logical, none made sense, and worse, none of them were scientific.
Some of the most creative and beloved men and women on earth were profoundly flawed, and we’ve got to remember that. I think to vilify Mrs. Rowling is the wrong approach (mostly because that also has a destructive effect on those she offended since they love her stories so much). The Harry Potter series is a wonderful series, which means she was tapping into something much bigger and more beautiful than she is. But her transgender phobia means she’s succumbing to something much lower and baser than she is. Heroes sometimes work that way… they’re complicated.
I would give up my lifelong crush on Brad Pitt if I could make life better for trans men and women, but we’re still a long way from that. However, my silence means complicity with the phobia and I am not complicit. Yet to hear these words, from the beloved J.K. Rowling, is devastating. She doesn’t see it. In fact, she’s doubling down against it—mostly because of (pride; ignorance; fear; delusion; old-world values?).
I am grateful for Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Rupert Grint and the rest of the cast for stepping in where their creator simply cannot go. This is the challenge of the gods… But I also hope that this story reveals how devastating it can be to hear yourself called less than what you are—even though you know it’s not true. And I also hope that the heroes can take seriously the affect they have on those who look up to them.