Inclusion is one of the great buzzwords of recent times. It describes the idea that people can participate in all aspects of life regardless of who they are. The idea of inclusion counters bigotry and hopes to end the marginalization of minorities.
The Difference Between Inclusion and Acceptance
Unfortunately, inclusion is not enough. It is only the very beginning. It is a mere entry ticket that gets you through the door. Table stakes, if you will. But once you are in, the vibe might be anything but welcoming. Especially in places of faith, trans people are included to the same degree as child molesters or axe murderers are: as lost souls, as sinners expected to repent, as projects that need fixing. Needless to say, I feel anything but welcome in such places.
My trans identity is neither a sin nor a mental illness. I might be different, but I’m not broken. Consequently, my expectations are much higher than simply being allowed to walk through the door. I expect elders to respect my name and my pronouns. I expect my relationship to be recognized, regardless of who I want to be with. I expect that my identity has no implications on the activities I may participate in or the positions I can hold. I expect that I can simply be, on eye level and with no pressure to change. I expect not just inclusion but to be accepted as a whole person.
Any person who cannot meet these minimal requirements is neither worth my respect nor any amount of my time. My existence and my identity are not for anybody else to judge, question, or debate. And it is a waste of time to try convincing this group of people otherwise.
From Acceptance to Allyship
Once that first hurdle is cleared and we progress to a more personal level, people often like to consider themselves allies. And they love to proudly slap this sticker on their own chest. Unfortunately, their use of this term is often as meaningless as inclusion. Allyship means more than just tolerating trans people and allowing them to consume air or space. Allyship means much more than a mere live‑and‑let‑live attitude.
Instead, the title of an ally is hard earned. Allies speak up when trans people are bullied, harassed, hated, or marginalized. Allies do not trade trans rights for tax cuts, cheap gas, or a border wall. Allies are willing to have difficult discussions with unpleasant people. Allies take a bullet for us in an attempt to protect the community’s physical and mental wellbeing. Allies offer a shoulder to cry on when we are down and celebrate with us in better times.
I recognize such allyship is hard and costly. The price is paid in social status, political party affiliation, and friendships. Allyship is not just an activity for a weekend during Pride Month. Allies do what they do because it’s the right thing to do – not because someone is watching. Allyship is quiet and humble, not performative. And when this happens not just once but whenever needed most, some delighted trans person might honor you by considering you their ally.
Now, if you want to be friends with me, you have to be a true ally first. And if we are friends and I learn that you are not an ally, you are swiftly removed from both lists. It’s as easy as that. I do not care if you only voted for the fascists because you felt somebody had to stir up the pot. Human dignity and wellbeing should easily trump any other policy. And if you are unwilling to make sacrifices for humanity, you are neither accepting nor an ally. Instead, you are just another enabler, profiteer, or collaborator of bigotry.
Of course, it is your choice. After all, this is the land of the free. But know that I will not hesitate to call you out and place you in the category that best matches your behavior.
But for those few truly accepting people and real allies out there, just know: I do not take any of this for granted. I appreciate what you are doing, and I recognize the cost associated with it. You are precious to me, and I will not forget.
Heartfelt hugs, Liz