There is a type of pain that settles in the heart, not like a sharp wound that bleeds and demands immediate attention, but rather like a deep, slow ache that never truly fades. I have come to know this pain intimately since coming out as transgender. It is the pain of being hated simply for existing as who I am.
I did not choose this path. Who would choose to be hated? Who would willingly walk a road where love is conditional, where acceptance is withdrawn the moment I reveal the truth about myself? When I was living as the person the world expected me to be, the love I received was abundant. But the moment I spoke my truth, that love from some people turned cold, replaced by whispers, rejection, and even outright hostility.
My heart aches when people despise me for being transgender, not because I seek their approval, but because I once believed in the goodness of humanity. I grew up trusting in the power of love, believing that faith, kindness, and understanding could overcome any divide. But then I discovered that, for some, their love has limits. Their compassion comes with conditions. Their faith in God—often proclaimed as limitless and unconditional—ends at the boundary of my identity.
I have been told that my existence is an offense, that my journey is a rebellion against God. I have heard people twist sacred words to justify their cruelty, using scripture as a weapon rather than a balm. It hurts because I know God. I have walked with God for years, experiencing both joy and sorrow, faith and doubt. I have served in ministry, preached the gospel, comforted the grieving, and lifted up the broken. I have seen the face of God in the love and acceptance of those who truly embody Christ’s message. Yet, there are those who look at me and see only something to condemn.
The irony is that I have not changed in the ways that truly matter. My heart remains the same; I still love deeply. I still aspire to be kind, to serve others, and to make the world a better place. Yet for some, my gender identity overshadows everything else, as if my soul could be overshadowed by the way I dress or the name I carry.
And so my heart aches. It hurts under the weight of rejection, under the sting of words meant to wound, and under the silence of those who once stood by my side but now turn away. It aches not just for myself but for every transgender person who has felt this same pain, for every child who has been cast out, and for every soul who has been made to feel unworthy of love.
But despite the pain, my heart still loves. It loves fiercely and stubbornly, even when battered. I refuse to let hatred define me. I refuse to let rejection turn me bitter. If I have learned anything from Christ, it is that love isn’t something given only when it’s easy or convenient. Love is a calling, a commitment, a force that endures even in the face of cruelty.
So yes, my heart aches when people hate me for being transgender. But my heart also beats with hope. It beats for the love that endures, for the kindness that persists, for the God who walks alongside me, unwavering. And as long as my heart beats, I will continue to love, continue to believe, and continue to be exactly who I was created to be.
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