Letter to the President of Conference

What follows is a response to the current President of the Methodist Conference in the UK, Rev. Steve Wild, following the initial response issued by the Vice President (Dr Jill Barber) and him to the shooting in an LGBT nightclub in Orlando on 12th June:

Dear Steve,

I hope this finds you well and you're still enjoying your presidential travels.

Yesterday I read the joint statement that the Vice President and you initially put out in response to the shooting in Orlando, which thus far has claimed the lives of fifty LGBT people, left others fighting for their lives in hospital, and yet more people traumatised, frightened and grieving. I have to say, I was saddened and disappointed by your initial statement; while I am heartened by what you have added subsequently, what you didn't say in your initial response speaks volumes. I would like to explain to you something of the hurt this caused to me and to many others, in the hope that this be helpful in guiding future comments, responses and prayers.

As you know, our paths recently crossed again after many years. You baptised me as a baby during your probationer appointment, and we met again when you visited the college where I am now training for Methodist ordained ministry. Subsequently, you described our meeting in the Methodist Recorder as an example of prevenient grace, of how God goes ahead before us and calls us into a deeper and fuller relationship with him. Well, there's something you should know about me, and how that grace has manifested itself in my life: I'm both bisexual and transgender, and these things profoundly influenced my decision to candidate for ministry.

Allow me to explain. I first became aware of being 'different' when I was four years old and starting primary school. It was the first time I'd been around lots of other children,  and I couldn't understand why I was suddenly expected to dress, play and socialise like a girl, when I knew I was male. While I didn't have the vocabulary at that age to explain what I was feeling, it was nonetheless deeply distressing. When I told one of my teachers I wanted to be a boy, it was made clear to me that this was wholly unacceptable. I thus learnt from an early age that being open about my gender identity was something that was liable to lead to prejudice, misunderstanding and rejection. Repressing this part of myself, and the attraction to girls I experienced as a teenager in a time when the homophobic Section 28 was still in force, took a huge toll on me psychologically and at its worst led to suicidal thoughts. Becoming a Christian in my early twenties has changed and transformed my life in so many ways, not least in helping me to come to terms with who I am, to find the courage to transition and live an authentic life as a man, and to overcome the feelings of shame that dogged me in earlier years. I've realised that I am a beloved child of God, that I matter and that I can make a difference to the world around me for the better. It's hard to talk about feeling called to ordained ministry without reference to this part of my journey, and the fantastic support I received from my minister and church family.

I'm telling you all this because, from my own experiences and through meeting many other LGBT people in different settings, I've learnt both the difference positive affirmation makes to our lives and the negative consequences of the prejudice and fear that all too often affects us. Homophobia, biphobia and transphobia are, alas, daily realities for LGBT people in this country and around the world. Gay people are scared to hold their partner's hand certain in public places for fear of attack. Some LGBT people struggle to leave their homes through anxiety about what they will face on the other side of their front door, and there are folks who won't set foot in our churches for fear of rejection and condemnation. It therefore matters immensely that hate crimes against our community are called out for what they are, especially by church leaders, and that the LGBT identities of their victims are publically acknowledged, not quietly ignored or airbrushed out of the picture, as in so much of the media coverage of the attack in Orlando. This was, after all, an attack on an LGBT venue that resulted in the deaths of LGBT people.

I do not doubt the sincerity of the sentiments expressed in your initial response, but its silence on the nature of the attack and failure to acknowledge that its victims came from the LGBT community in Orlando caused a lot of hurt, as you acknowledge in your subsequent response. It was also surprising that nothing was said about the need to ensure this is not used as a weapon to fuel the flames of Islamophobia and to further divide communities. Now more than ever, our society nears to hear that love, not hate, is the only way forward.

It is my prayer that the Methodist Church will be at the forefront of working for the flourishing of all people, whatever their identity or background, and that we will not become complicit in allowing discrimination, hatred and violence to ruin lives because of our silence in the face of these things. I hope and trust that you will join me in this commitment.

Yours in Christ,

Karl