I learned I was queer in high school and when I was 18 I met the first nonbinary person (that I know of) who I worked with. I remember hearing stories about how they felt and it felt for the first time like someone was in my head. As a kid, before I was exposed to social constructs, I presented fairly androgynous. I remember when I first felt forced into femininity, being told to brush my hair to keep it pretty. It was always a fight in my house. I would scream and throw tantrums to avoid brushing my hair or wearing a dress to fit a dress code. This never happened when I had short hair but all the other girls had long hair and I moved to a town where fitting in felt important. I began to dip my toes into into an increasingly cold uncomfortable pool of women's clothes. Up until age 9 I had rarely worn anything found in the "girl's" section of the store, it never felt comfortable. When I was 17 a girl I liked asked to cut my hair short and I let her. I have a picture from the first moment I looked in the mirror and I began to feel the beginning of what would be a lifelong journey to re-find myself and my gender. I smiled. I remember the exact moment nonbinary identities were described to me and the weight that lifted off my shoulders. I came out as trans and nonbinary shortly after and began to live authentically among friends, family, and coworkers.

I was fortunate enough to be raised by a Pastor who also understood my queerness. I was raised hearing about my Ma's ex girlfriends and attending college reunions with her at her very queer college. I heard stories of other churches that believed LGBTQ folks were sinners, I was lucky enough not to attend one. I remember the day my church voted on being open and affirming. I was in 8th grade and questioned how it could even be a question when our motto was "Wherever you are life's journey you are welcome here". The vote was unanimous to become an affirming church. The only thing I can distinctly remember is being questioned about how I could reconcile my sexual orientation with my faith, but it was not by my own church and mostly when strangers found out I was a pastor's kid. Once I got to college and the bubble of acceptance I had been raised in popped, I remember learning what it meant to be queer in the outside world. My identities were questioned, my faith was questioned, and I experienced folks praying that I would change who I am.

Now, my beliefs are well beyond ones of affirmation and acceptance. I read the Bible and I see the queerness in it. I see Jesus leaning back on the chest of the disciple whom he loved while he whispers in his ear. I see Ruth's loyalty to Naomi. I see the queerness in the way God works wonders in our world even while they are doubted. I see stories of Jesus's femininity. I see the queerness in the God's commands to free the prisoners and love folks as they are. My beliefs have changed because my theology is queer and even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

Queer representation in the church has been vital to my journey. I heard queer folks preach, I read their books, and I learned from them in seminary. I met folks who relished in God's creations.

Right now, I am happy to share my faith is a huge part of my life. I am an out queer and trans seminarian. My identities are celebrated in my worship spaces. My partners are welcome at my church. I spend my day job as the Organizing Director for a faith based organization in Chicago doing prison abolition work. I currently am working on a campaign with clergy to support the trans folks incarcerated at Cook County Jail. I feel God and my faith in every part of my work. I am grateful to be a part of QCF's board and working to create more spaces for queer identities to not just be affirmed but celebrated.