shambles

Hi, my name is Jaclyn. I’m about to write a very personal blog in the hopes of trying to explain who I am to people. There’s a point to this blog, and it is that people cannot be categorized in simplistic ways, or at least they should not be. I want to bring the Founding Fathers of the United States into this. They did not want political parties. They thought it would divide people, rather than unite them, and one of the things these men were most concerned about when they were creating their new country was everyone in that new country being united. Hence the name of the country. It’s not called The Divided States for a reason. I think the Founding Fathers were inspired by God to do what they did, and I think even current policy agendas should be set with these noble men in mind. With regard to political parties, they thought that factions would develop. They were so right! Nowadays, if a liberal says something, conservatives snark. If a conservative says something, liberals criticize. And poor Ron Paul can’t even get covered in the mainstream media because he might upset the status quo.

I’m a complex, nuanced person. I’m a shemale, who used to be Mormon, but you’d never know it from looking at me or interacting with me. I used to hate tell people, because of being judged. For these people, you have become one thing, and no more, if you describe yourself as a shemale. And since I don’t have an Adam’s Apple, and since I have small hands, feet, natural breast development, I think there’s overwhelming physical evidence that I’m female. In addition, I received a Patriarchal Blessing from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which validated my belief that I’m female, because God speaks through the Patriarch during the rendering of these blessings. That’s my faith–one not shared by the leaders of that church, who saw fit to discriminate against me. If you are interested in a fictionalized account of that part of my story, go to my homepage, scroll down on the right-hand side, and click on He Talks To Me, Too. God talks to everyone, not just people who are born with perfect anatomies.

This is the crux of one of the most traumatic experiences in my life, perhaps the most traumatic. In 1991, I joined a church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I stayed with it until around 2001 so almost 10 years, a full decade. In many ways, it was the best decade of my life. I have nothing against organized religion, even now, and definitely I am not anti-Mormon.

In the Mormon church, they have what is called a disciplinary handbook. They said having the kind of surgery I’m talking about could be grounds for a disciplinary council. The words ‘could be’ made me think I was an exception. And I still believe that but my Church leaders profoundly disagreed. They did not excommunicate me, but they reversed the good news of the church for me. This is what I mean. When Mormon missionaries visit people, in order to interest them in the Church, they tell people that God talks to everyone. He loves everyone. Expanding on what I wrote before, they have something called patriarchal blessings, where the Patriarch lays his hands on your head, and becomes a mouthpiece for God, telling you about your life. I didn’t tell the Patriarch about my physical situation because he is a mouthpiece of God. In a way, I tested the Church without meaning to. I believe God spoke to me in that blessing and comforted me. He knows me as an individual, as a woman, and loves me. He gives me revelation. But for me alone, this is not true according to Mormon leaders. In my case, I had to tell the Patriarch everything or else the blessing was not valid. This is the opposite of ‘the good news or the gospel.’ What’s worse than hearing originally that the Patriarch is a mouthpiece of God, and then being told that is actually not the case? It does something to you. And it’s not good. I was essentially thrown into the wilderness.

I wrote this all in a book, called He Talks To Me, Too. I didn’t have the courage to make it a non-fiction account. I fictionalized it. But maybe I’m being too hard on myself. I have always wanted to write fiction. So writing a novel is natural for me, and maybe that is the main reason I converted my real-life story into a novel. Also, other people are involved, and I wanted to protect their identities. Anyway, just like the Mormon church has a disciplinary handbook, my fictional book has a Handbook of Policies and Procedures. On page 29, it says that a person’s head has to be a certain diameter in order to remain on the ‘island,’ or they could be banished forever. In my book, the Patriarch becomes the Grand Pere. The church is an island. There are obviously a lot of metaphors in the book. It was easier to write that way. I don’t mention shambles in the book, because I want the message of being an outcast to be universal. Many people feel lonely in this life. You don’t have to be a member of the LGBTQ2 community.

Recently, missionaries came back into my life. They started visiting my mother and me. They wanted us to come back to church. My initial reaction was to think that instead of talking to me, they should go to the leaders and ask them to allow me to be a full, functioning member of the church. But I guess they started asking around about me, because suddenly they no longer visit us. This seems so shocking to me. Missionaries discuss matters of life and death. They talk about God, and how much He loves us. Then they discover something they don’t like, and they send the message very clearly that they are no longer interested in sharing that message with you. It hurts their credibility, to say the least.

Now I’m back at square one…trying to find a church to be a part of, because I think we achieve a lot of great blessings from being part of a spiritual community. There are tons of good things about the Mormon church. They worship God. They revere Jesus Christ. They do a lot of humanitarian work. But they do not care about me, and they have proven that on many occasions. Of course there are individual members in the church who have proven they do care. But I need to be part of an organized religion where I feel that it is true. And that I am a valued, welcome member of the community. I’m not sure if I should become Muslim (they do not accept Jesus Christ as the Son of God), Catholic, Baptist, etc. I feel like we are spiritually stronger if we’re part of a community. As my book details pretty clearly at the end, the Mormon church almost destroyed me. But I’m battling my way back to being a somewhat good person.

I am now considering becoming a Shia Muslim (updating it on New Year’s Day, 2018). I hesitate because if Jesus is the son of God, I don’t want to offend him. Their narrative, however, makes sense to me, so I want to move to a city where there are a lot of them, just like in 1992 I moved to Idaho to meet a lot of Mormons. We’ll see what the future holds! Politically, I’m now an amphiist. Don’t know what that means? It’s a Greek word, meaning I look at both sides of political issues, etc. I’m also exploring Communism, because when I think of the corruption in the world, I wonder if Communism is the answer. I am anti-violence, but I also prefer a one-world government. The problem with the globalists of today is that they are violent. Think Saudi Arabia’s actions against Palestine. Think America’s actions against a lot of countries. I am for open borders, because I think that would equate to less violence. I am a peaceful globalist, I guess you could say, and believe that nationalism is a zero sum game, with each nation putting itself first. Conflict is bound to follow, and inevitable.

I think we should defend everyone. We should stop debating, stop arguing, and learn to love each other.