...Still, If I were transgendered I could hit from the front tees... ‘How about, “Good shot Pastor?”’ I retort.
OP.ED
We look at each other, and I see that look on her face, the look of, ‘I want to beat your butt in golf so bad’. One day my showoff transgendered friend, to make a point, didn’t hit from the front tees or the senior tees or the men’s tees. She hit from the pro tees. It’s none of your business who won. And then there’s the awful, horrible day when Jessie (not her real name either) made a hole in one. Darn it. Every year, except this year, the gay women have won the church golf retreat, longest drive competition, and closest to the whole contest. Darn it.
MY TRANSGENDERED FANTASY { By Rev. Dr. Chris Ayers
I’VE NEVER FANTASISED ABOUT BEING GAY. I HAVE FANTASISED ABOUT BEING TRANSGENDERED. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 99.9 per cent happy with being a male heterosexual. And it’s not like it’s a choice anyway. As one of my gay friends, imagining he’s talking to homophobes, says: ‘Now tell me, in what decade, in what year, in what month, in what week, on what day, in what hour, at what second did you choose your sexual orientation and gender identity?’ I can’t remember a day in my life when I chose anything about my sexual orientation or gender identity. Male heterosexual is the way I was born, but a fellah can still fantasise. And I fantasise about being transgendered. It’s really a matter of self-defense. I’m the lucky pastor at Wedgewood Baptist Church in Charlotte, NC, a church whose membership is made up of fifty per cent sexual and gender identity minorities. We don’t ask people about their sexual orientation and gender identity. Some individuals tell me, though. So the figure I quoted is just an estimate, but what is not uncertain is two of my golf buddies are gay women and one is transgendered (male to female). They like to trash talk their pastor. Imagine that. One day Martha blurted out, ‘That’s a damn lucky shot.’ Martha is not her real name. Sadly, some of my GLBT friends have to live lives of various shades of invisibility. That makes me mad.
FUSE 16
Hey, I’m 51 and what competitive spirit I have is long gone, but I hate getting beat in golf by my GLBT friends. Hate it. We have such a good time. I can’t imagine life without my friends. I said friends because I don’t like calling my friends GLBT friends. They are just friends. They are just people. They have blessed my life so much. Why can’t the world see them as just people? If I haven’t learned anything else I’ve learned people are just people. So the truth is ours is a “friendly” game. Still, if I were transgendered I could hit from the front tees. And if I could hit from the front tees, then maybe I would have a chance. And if I had a chance, then I wouldn’t have to put up with the lesbian and transgendered golfers winning at the annual church golf retreat and proceeding to buy silly looking “Golf Champ” shirts. There’s got to be a verse in the Bible about showing off. If there isn’t, there should be. When I turned fifty I started hitting from the senior tees. I’ve never heard such moaning and groaning and complaining in all my life from my golf buddies. ‘You shouldn’t be hitting from those tees,’ they protested vociferously. I’m stuck forever on the senior tees. I’ll never get to hit from the front tees, but I can fantasise about it.
}
Rev. Dr. Chris Ayers writes for FUSE all the way from Charlotte, NC, USA. He is the pastor at Wedgewood Baptist Church — a group of folks figuring out how to be a Jesuscentric, social-justice-oriented, GLBTI-inclusive church.