Jaci Dawn

Dear Children (and probably half of my friends),

I want to explain to you why I am not as excited about or as upset over transgender bathroom use. No, I don’t want to convince you that I am right. I just want to explain that a different perspective sometimes happens out of personal experience. I am not trying to assuage your concerns or even trying to make you think like I do. I’m merely explaining why the issue doesn’t freak me out like it does so many people. Please understand that this is not a “I am right and you are wrong” sort of post. It’s merely a post about my history, and an insight into my experience that has led to my way of thinking.

I may be wrong. But you may be wrong, also. We may both be wrong. And, for the record, I don’t need scripture thrown at me to prove a point. I’m well versed in scripture. Thank you. I’m just telling you a story.

The year was 1974. I was heading to college. I wanted an art college that stood out, I chose Ithaca College in New York, but added Grinnell College in Iowa as a Liberal Arts back up. Ithaca rejected me. Grinnell accepted me with a small scholarship. It was all about demographics: I was probably the only student from the State of Nevada to apply to Grinnell and they had a policy of accepting students “from all 50 states”. SAT and ACT scores  aside, sometimes what matters is what minority you are from, and my minority was Nevada.

The big issues facing college campuses in the fall of 1974 were “how coed should we go” and “desegregating Black students”. The gay rights movement was just beginning to get a toe hold in the world. Most colleges were answering the desegregation question with broad sweeps of policy changes that put a band-aid on an oozing sore. Coed questions were conservatively answered by inserting womens’ dorms and mens’ dorms onto colleges previously reserved for one gender. Those colleges that were already coed took a breather, or took a bolder step by segregating men and women by floor in a single dormitory. Gasps could be heard across the nation at the brazenness of this action.

I was 18. WASP. Small town America. Token Black and token Queer by community. Innocent. Daughter of Republicans who voted for Barry Goldwater. The first generation of 18 year old’s to get to register to vote. I registered as a Democrat (I’ve gone back and forth with that in the past 41 years).

Grinnell College was a miasma of the political climate. There were dorms which were strictly men or strictly women. Some dorms were segregated by floor: men on one, women on the next. And at least one dorm was segregated by room: men in one, women in the next.

My first semester roommate did not work out and I transferred to a new floor and roomie. We were on one of the experimental floors, where rooms were segregated by sex. There was a Neo-Nazi guy across the hall, a bluegrass musician (and his girlfriend when the RA’s weren’t looking) next to him. My roomie and I, and some gal next to us on the other side who knew the real Captain Kangaroo. On the other side of us was a radio DJ. There was one bathroom and one set of showers.

Someone posted a paper plate on the doors of the restrooms and showers. There was a little arrow you could use if you needed privacy. FEMALE. MALE. TRANSGENDER.

I kid you not. The radio DJ was transgender (and he was one of my best friends in college). I didn’t know that at the time (that he was transgender) but I did know his friendship would help me survive college.

I always thought there should have been a fourth choice: Bluegrass Band. The bluegrass musician across the hall used the shower stalls for practice – with his entire band. Great acoustics. If they weren’t practicing in the showers, they were in the stairwells. They did a stirring rendition of “I’ll Fly Away” that I will never forget.

My point is this: I never blinked. I assumed that I could share a restroom with men because I’d shared a bathroom with my brother and my father throughout my childhood. I wasn’t keen on sharing a shower with any sex, so I appreciated the option of selecting FEMALE when I took a shower (always choosing a time when no other woman was in there – I’m just weird that way).

I figured out who the transgender was soon enough. It never changed how I viewed our relationship. I wish I could remember his name. He was funny and he was sincerely one of my friends.

So if I don’t get excited by the whole transgender bathroom issue, you now know why. I’ve been there and done that. I’m surprised we’re having to have this conversation 42 years later. I don’t think transgender people want anything more than a place to pee. I doubt sex offenders will jump on this (but I’ve always been naive). If you are sending your child under the age of 13 into a public bathroom alone, then… Um, don’t. Please. My kids, by the time they were 13, were pretty worldly (and they were homeschooled).

I get that there’s a fear of perverts using bathrooms to troll for victims. I don’t know how to address that fear. I’m just telling you my story.

On an aisde: I’ve been to a number of women-only events where there has been a huge line at the ladies’ room during the break. I am one of the women who has no qualms about branching off to use the men’s room. There’s not men at the event, right? So why not? Yet, I have known many women who would not.

My point is this: if you presently share a bathroom with a man: brother, father, son… Shrug.

Now you have my story. I don’t ask you to judge. Just to understand that I have a different opinion engendered by my own past. I am still open to your point of view, without judgment. I honor your concerns. I only hope we can move forward in such a way that everyone – no matter how they identify or what their heritage is – can eventually find Christ (which will offend my heathen friends – can’t win. 🙂 )