Dear Friends,

I have decided after much consideration and upon gathering the advice of my peers to move this blog to a different address. In order to lose the name “blacksissyblog” which has been causing some problems for me, i’m going to begin posting at a new WordPress address. Please continue to follow me at https://rainandclouds2.wordpress.com

I wanted to follow-up on my thoughts from the post entitled ”it’s only a matter of time.” I have been thinking about the comments that both Ron and Monica made. Both comments struck a chord in me. An underlying issue for me is the issue of power. I understand the entities that have power in any encounter with the press.

The interviewer has power. They can choose what to ask. They can report on the conversation as they see fit. They have the power to take the words they want from me and write whatever article they desire.

The editor of the publication/newspaper has power. They ultimately decide when that article runs, where it run, and they can decide what parts of it to drop or have rewritten.

The reader of the newspaper has power. They decide what to spend their time on. They bring to an article what they think and their experience.

I’ve been operating on the premise that those entities have power and that i don’t. I’ve been assuming that i am a powerless entity. But this is not true. I do have power. First off i have the power of choice. Ron reminds me that i can say no to an interview. That is a type of power. I can choose to use that power of refusal. That’s up to me. Monica reminds me that i have the power of my own story. My story is a compelling one and it can touch an interviewer, an editor and/or a reader.

Having thought about these powers i have, i feel better about the inevitable encounter with the press. I’m starting to be more comfortable with the idea of that phone call or that email or that knock on the door that will signal the start of that encounter. I know how to tell my story. I’ve done that countless times already. I know how to answer questions. I think i’ll be ready to say yes when the offer comes.

I will do so keeping in mind that i have a few communities that i am a part. There’s the trans-community. T-folk are often marginalized and not taken seriously. My story would (i hope) help people see that t-folk are not jokes. We are doing serious things for the good of the world. There’s the black community. Black folk are often put in narrow stereotypes in terms of religion and sexuality. My story could help people see that we are diverse people as Black people and maybe even help some of my black trans brothers and sisters see that they are not alone. There’s the Episcopal Church. Religious folk in the US are often cast as fundamentalists Christians as if that is the only manifestation of the faith that is serious about Jesus. My story (i hope) might help people widen their understanding of the spectrum of Christian theological thought and experience.

Now i must also say that accepting the offer when it comes and doing an interview will change things for me. The biggest thing that will change is that my exposure. My story will be out there in a way that it has never been before. It will travel into places where i could not have gone before. An incredible number of people will learn about me, most of whom i will never ever meet. That is a little scary given the fact that hate crimes are aimed at black folk and trans folk and that i qualify on both counts. Still the chances of anything dangerous happening are small. The good that it could do is big.

On saturday someone who knew me called me skinny. That has happened several times. i realize that it is meant as a compliment and i try to take it that way but i don’t like it. It feels good to be acknowledged for the weight loss. However that work “skinny” bothers me.

I AM A FAT GIRL. That is the way it is. My actual weight doesn’t change that. At 251 lbs i was fat. At 175 lbs i am fat. At 151 lbs (my target weight) i’ll still be fat. it’s because being fat for me is a matter of my relationship to food not the pounds on my frame. I am fat because i cannot approach food like “normal” people. I don’t have a normal “full” reaction to eating. That is, i can’t tell when i should actually stop eating. I am still out of touch with the signals my body sends when it’s time to eat because my body needs fuel and when it’s time to stop eating because my body has what it needs. “Normal” people know how to do that but i don’t. I have to use other tactics to control my eating.

Also i am an emotional eater. I eat when i feel things. Happy–eat. Sad–eat. Mad–eat. Anxious–eat. Relaxed–eat. Frustrated–eat. Love–eat. Bored–eat. That’s just the way i am. This is the truth of what i am.

Added to this is the fact of my food addictions. There are foods that i simply can’t stopping eating once i start: cheese, hot dogs, potato chips, fritoes, doritoes–and i have to put wine in that category as well.

I can be easily suggested into eating. So even watching food commercials on TV can spur me to eat. And since there are food commercials on all the time i really have keep on top of my stuff or i’ll be off feeding my face for no good reason.

All of these things constitutes a difficult relationship with food for me. These things don’t change no matter what my weight is. This is why i call myself the fat girl.

I should say that i don’t look upon that title as an insult. It simply describes what i am. So even though people seek to compliment me by calling me skinny, i will not accept that title. I am a fat girl! That is what i am. That is what i’ll always me. That will not keep me from reaching my ideal weight but if i don’t own it and deal with it there is no way i’ll be able to maintain my target weight when i get there.

Today i stepped on the scale at my weight watchers meeting and it said i was 175.0 lbs. That is a milestone for me. I’ve crossed the 75 pounds lost mark of my weight loss journey. I was given a magnet and a charm for my keychain to mark the accomplishment.

How do i feel about this? First and foremost i feel great. I’m proud of myself. This has been hard work and i’ve done a good job. I’ve demonstrated some patience and some perseverance. I’ve overcome some obstacles and i’ve established myself as a “can do” person. I also am beginning to like the way i look in clothes. More about that later.

At the same time i feel a little shy about what i’ve accomplished. I get kinda embarrassed when i’m recognized for what i’ve done. I feel a little self-conscience when someone raves about my weight loss. I don’t want to come across as a bragger. I want to stay humble and at the same time i also hope that my example will help others.

I would like to reward myself for the work i’ve done. So i’m going to take a trip over to Poulsbo this coming Friday and have tea at my favorite place over there. Then i’ll do a little walking if i can (depending on how my toe is doing and what the weather is doing).

Now that i’ve lost 75 pounds i’ve started the last phase of my weight loss work. I now have 24 pounds left to lose before i reach goal. My plan is to get to my target weight before the summer solstice.

I was out grocery shopping today in my neighborhood. For some reason today was very curious and i observed the choices that other people were making as they shopped for food. Since i was in my neighborhood there were a number of African-American women in the store. I noticed two things that were a bit sad.

I guess i have seen these two things before but they really hadn’t registered in my awareness until today. First i noticed about many of my sisters were considerably overweight.  Second i noticed the food choices that my sisters were making. Their shopping carts were filled with a lot of high fat foods, a lot of “convenience” foods, and plain ol’ junk food.

As a fat girl i know how those high fat foods feel. Eating those foods made me happy for a while. They were really “comfort foods” to me. I understand how easy it is to make poor food choices out of habit or out of an uncritical approach to food. I so felt for my sisters. You do that for a few weeks and the next thing you know you’re 50 pounds overweight and you don’t know how it happened.

I don’t feel superior to my sisters who are heavier than i am. I empathize with them. I wonder about obesity and black folk. As a population do we tend to obesity more than other groups? I think i’ll explore that.

I should report that my Saturday weigh-in was not what i thought it would be. I ate more than i should have and i made some poor food choices early in the week. I worked really hard in the last part of the week and that made a difference. By the time i stepped on the scale at the weight watchers meeting i had actually lost 2.2 pounds.

What is going on here? I think it is the difference that exercise is making in my life. I think i’m moving more without really noticing it. I find myself standing more as i work. I have noticed that when i get cold at my apartment that i move around to get warm and don’t just turn up the heat or wear more clothes. As my muscles get accustomed to working more started to crave movement. I even find myself getting in a few extra minutes of physical activity a time or two each day. I think this is paying off.

A friend of mine has been contacted by the Columbia Newspaper for an interview. She is being interviewed because she is a lesbian clergyperson. She is excited about the prospect. I know she will do a great job.

When i heard that she was to be interviewed i immediately got nervous. Why? Because i’ve been secretly dreading the day when i will have an encounter with the press. I know it’s coming. I know they will find me. It is only a matter of time before i will either get a phone call or an email or a knock on my office door and someone will say, “Rev. Robinson, i’m from the Seattle Times Religion section and we’d like to interview you.”

I am not excited about that prospect even as i move toward its inevitable occurence. The reason i’m not excited is because i don’t trust the press. They will want a story with some “spice” and i don’t want my story turned into that. I don’t want my story to be ”look at the wierdness of a tranny priest.” I would be so mad at having an interview only to see it turn up as a story that i don’t like.

On the other hand, i know that an interview would raise my visibility. That would give me the chance to do some good for the trans-community and even the church. It could be yet another small step in the process of raising awareness of trans issues and in helping people see that trans-folk are everywhere doing all kinds of good things.

So i keep going dreading the day when the local press discovers me, knowing that the day is coming, but not knowing when.

This has been a very challenging food week. I have made three big mistakes–three really bad food choices. I can easily survive one big mistake and could probably make it through a second big mistake. But there is no way that i can survive a third big mistake in one week. What has happened? On Saturday, Monday and today i’ve eaten one meal that has killed the points for an entire day and thus led to a day when i had to go into my bank of extra food points. I’m down to 11 out of 35 left in my weekly bank of extra points. What this means is that is no way to avoid gaining weight this week. It’s been 4 months since the last week that I registered a weight gain.

It’s going to be humiliating. The news from Weight Watchers this Saturday will be: “Carla takes a fall and lands right on her fat ass.”

I really feel bad about this. I feel as if i’ve lost control of my eating. I feel like a pig! There’s no sense beating myself up any further. I admit the big mistakes. I take ownership for them. I will face the consequences of my actions when i face the scale. I will react maturely to it.

I’ll probably get in trouble for what i’m about to say but…

All day i’ve listened to the reaction over the election in Massachusetts. Over this last news cycle i’ve listened to liberals react to this like the sky is falling and to conservatives react as if they have overthrown the government. The overstatement on both sides leave me cold (as usual). I must say up front that i am not a political liberal. Not to say that there aren’t things i admire about the liberal political perspective as it is practiced in the United States but not enough to make me want to be a liberal or think of myself as a political liberal. I am not a conservative either. When i listen to the political discourse in our country my usual response is to say to the left: “I mostly agree with you but i can’t go along with…” My usual response to the right is to say, “I disagree but you have a good point when you say…”

Things get no better for me when it comes to the actual political parties. I’ve never been a Republican. Why? Because of what i’ve seen in the Republican Party. I’ve been a Democrat twice in my life and left the Democratic Party twice. Why Because of what i’ve seen in the Democratic Party. It’s not that i’m looking for a perfect organization. Lord knows that’s not the case. After all i belong to arguable the most imperfect organization in the world–the Christian Church. However when it comes to the political parties i am an agnostic. I simply am not a true believer. It just doesn’t work for me.

I like to think that i am reasonably well informed as a citizen. I pay attention to government at all levels and take my role in this democracy seriously. but i’ve never been able to pull the trigger on the issue of political association.

For the second time in my life I am an ordained person. Once again i’m on the clergy side of the layperson/clergyperson partnership—different denomination, same basic work.

I am an African-American. I was born into a Christian family. I grew up in an all Black congregation. I was nurtured on the dynamic spiritual life of that church. I was fed by the rich and deep traditions of that community of faith. I am a product of the Black Church. I am a child of the Black Church. I am a manifestation of the Black Church no matter where I am. Wherever I go the Black Church comes with me.

As an African-American clergyperson I stand squarely in a tradition of “the Preacher.” A critical role of Black clergy is the preaching task. The tradition of the Black preacher goes back a long way. It goes back to the very beginnings of the Black experience in this county. Black preachers have always had a place of leadership in the black community. They were critical in the interpretation of the Black experience in America and in the recasting of Christianity as a liberating faith for the oppressed.

Dr King stood in that tradition of the Black preacher. He stepped into that role of interpreter of experience and re-caster of the faith. I admire that part of his work and more and more I want to follow in those steps. Dr. King was an inspiration for me in even wanting to be ordained. I admired his courage and his conviction to stand up for the truth of the Gospel as he saw it, even if that meant it would cost him his life.

I assumed that one day taking a similar stance might cost me my life. I had no way to see what sacrifice I would have to make to live out the truth of the Gospel as I saw it. In order to live the truth I had to give up my own life in a way. I had to leave behind a successful life as a male. I had to leave my place in the community where I was respected and on my up the ladder of success in a church organization. I had to leave a life where others would look at me with almost unqualified approval. When I decided to transition and become the woman that I knew myself to be, I left a lot behind. I left a life behind. Unlike Dr. King I’ve been given a second chance in a new life. Living the truth always calls for sacrifice—ask Dr King, ask Jesus of Nazareth.

Now I’m in the role again of black preacher. I now see myself as one whose work is the interpreted the Black experience and to recast the faith for my time and the community that I speak to. More and more I am asking myself the question of how I will do that. In particular how do I speak of my experience as a Black transperson? What is the right forum in which I should speak? I have a story to tell and a theology that comes out of that story. Where, when and how to I tell it?

I have just completed my second week at All Saints Episcopal Church in Seattle as its new vicar. I have not yet told my whole story here and i’m not sure how and when to do it. In fact i’m not even sure if this is the place in which to tell it. I want to focus on this congregation’s ministry and it’s work. Telling my own story could hijack that work and become a big distraction but maybe not. It might become a way for the congregation to discover where God is calling it to work for justice. I don’t know what to do about this question but I feel a strong compulsion to wrestle with the question. I feel that God is urging me, nudging me, leading me on toward the answer. I suspect that whatever the answer is actually living it out will not be easy. But then again, isn’t this also the message of Dr. King’s life—and death.

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