A trans gender minister’ s long road to acceptance
Her RIDGEFIELDPARK, N.J.— transformation atchurchwas slow but noticeable.
She let her wavy hair grow out, and occasionally allowed herself to replace the transparent nail polish shewore on her manicured handswith amorevivid pink. Her eyebrowswere thinner and more defined, and her cheeks seemed rosier, drawing puzzled looks fromcongregants at the church she had led for 15 years.
She was known as Peter Strandthen, thepastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Ridgefield Park. A married man and the father of two.
But after a year of hormone replacement therapy, Strand, who now uses the name Petra, decided in April 2015 to let the congregation know what she had known for some time. She was a woman.
She addressed a four-page letter to themembers of her church to explain the physical changes they may have noticed. She invited them to ameeting after a Sunday service, where she offered to talk to them about her transition.
And she leaned on her faith to get her through.
“My struggle thenwashow to face theworld, not knowing howotherswould react, and feeling ashamed and humiliated in their eyes,” Strand, a Teaneck resident, recalled. “I found the courage todoso frommyprayerlife, from my stronger relationship to Christ.”
At themeeting, therewas silence as Strand poured her heart out, one former member of the church recalled.
“Ithad tobe terriblyemotional for him,” said Rose Saputo, a former elder at the churchwho, like others, still has a hard time using the female pronoun when she refers to Strand. “I felt that it had to be the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, telling his congregation.”
Most memberswere supportive, Strand said. Many said theyweren’t surprised. “They askedwhy it took so long,” she said.
Others, though, pushed back, saying Strand’s transitionwas an affront to family values.
That response, Saputo said, may have contributed to Strand’s departure from the church just a few months later.
“I just felt that he got a raw deal,” Saputo said.
An uneasy path
Strand, who stresses that the church’s finances played a role in her decision to leave, is now going through the discernment process in the EpiscopalChurch, a first step toward her goal of becoming ordained as a priest. She also occasionally preaches at other churches as a guest.
Across the country, quietly and sometimes more publicly, religious leaders have come forward as transgender in Christian and Jewish denominations.
One of the first was the Rev. Erin Swenson, who successfully fought to retain her ordination in the Presbyterian Church of the United States in1996. “It’s surprising to me that it is still surprising when I tell people that I was the first openly transgender person to have her ordination upheld through my gender transition, and that ithappened inthe 1990s and ithappened inGeorgia,” Swenson said.
It’s unclear how many transgender people are serving as clergy members in the United States, but Swenson said their numbers remain modest. “It’s too difficult, it’s too hard for people to go through,” she said.
Most denominations don’t have policies prohibiting transgender people from being ordained, but the cultural and political realities can make it difficult, said Chris Paige, executive director of Transfaith, a national organization ledby transgender people that focuses on faith and spirituality.
“There are a lot of political realities about the sort of respectability politics … and what folks perceive as appropriate,” Paige said.
The Episcopal Church approved the ordination of transgender priests in 2012, while the Evangelical LutheranChurch inAmerica ordained its first transgenderminister in 2015. Transgender people serve in the clergy of the United Methodist Church, the United Church of Christ and the Presbyterian Church.
Evenwhere there are policies allowing transgender clergy members to serve, in the end, it’showmembersof a congregation feel about the issue that ultimately determineswhether transgender clergy members are able to stay and continue their religious work, Paige said.
‘Time to sort things out’
As long as Strand can remember, she has identified more closely with women than men, and as a child wished she had been born a girl. She always felt different, but the thought of changing her gender hadn’t crossed her mind.
“It took a long time to sort things out, it took a really long time,” said Strand, 60. “Inwardly I felt oneway; outwardly I’m living another role. I’m always living this role, and was just trying to do the best I could.”
Growing up, she was not familiar with theword“transgender.” She said she was motherly toward others and became interested in the bibleandJesusatayoungage.
“Spirituality gave me a safe haven so I didn’t have to competewith othermenlike you do in sports or you do in politics,” she said. “Itwas a safe haven forme because there I could be who I was without having to pretend.”
In 2010, she said, she began to see books about people who had changed genders. The books fascinated her and spurred her to do some research.
“I didn’t know it was possible,” she said. “Then I started to look atmore clinical type books, Iwanted to read what therapists said … and the more I read, the more it described what I was feeling.”
Strand, who was married at the time, decided she needed to see a therapist who could help her understand and resolve what she was feeling.
“I knew I wanted to talk to a professional and find out if I was crazy,” she said.
After meeting with the therapist in December 2013, Strand said her suspicions were confirmed. She was transgender.
“Itwas like everything fell into place,” Strand said.“My understanding is that I was in denial. My stereotypes of a transgender person was like everybody else’s. I knew Iwasn’t gay, I knewIwasn’t into cross dressing or any of that stuff.… Sowhen I began to understand it, itwas like, ‘Oh, so the stereotypes had to break down.’”