Dee Grachek

When Identity Is Dismissed as Pretending

Few things cut as deeply as being told that your authentic self is not real—that who you are is a lie, an act, or a phase. For many transgender and non-binary individuals, this is not merely a passing insult; it is a rejection that wounds the soul. When someone dismisses a deeply felt and lived reality as mere pretense, it invalidates not just an identity but the very core of a person’s existence.

For me, and for so many others, gender identity is not a costume that can be taken off or a game played for attention. It is the truth of who we are, something we have often struggled with for years before finding the courage to express it aloud. When someone refuses to accept that truth, choosing instead to believe we are pretending, it sends a painful message: You are not real. You do not belong. You are not worthy of being seen as you are.

The pain of this rejection is layered. On the surface, it stings because it feels dismissive. It undermines the years of self-exploration, the courage it took to come out, and the often painful journey of self-acceptance. But beneath this, it reveals the limitations of someone’s love or respect. If their care for us is conditional on us conforming to the roles they expect, then it was never truly about us—only about their comfort.

Beyond personal pain, this type of invalidation has significant real-world consequences. It can isolate individuals from their families, churches, and communities, leading to feelings of profound loneliness, depression, and even despair. When someone we care about refuses to accept us, it can feel like a door slamming shut—a home that is no longer safe. When that rejection stems from a place of faith, the pain intensifies. Many of us have spent our lives believing in a God who loves us unconditionally, only to be told by others that this love does not encompass who we truly are.

But here’s what I hold onto: just because someone refuses to see me doesn’t mean I disappear. Just because they call me a pretender doesn’t mean my truth is any less real. And just because they do not embrace me does not mean I am not embraced by God, by those who truly love me, and by the ever-expanding community of people who do see me.

Rejection hurts, but it does not define us. What truly defines us is how we continue to live with truth, love, and resilience. No one can erase the reality of who we are—no matter how hard they may try.

Finding Home in the Everlasting Arms

Deuteronomy 33:27 states, “The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” This verse resonates with me deeply, not only as a person of faith but also as someone who has embarked on a lifelong journey of transformation, growth, and self-discovery. In its words, I find comfort, assurance, and the unshakable promise of God’s presence—regardless of where I am, who I am becoming, or what challenges I face.

The idea of God as my “dwelling place” feels deeply personal. It serves as a reminder that my ultimate home is not a physical location but a spiritual reality. I have experienced many shifts in my life—whether in my identity, my vocation, or my understanding of faith—but through it all, God remains my constant refuge. As a pastor and a lifelong member of the Presbyterian Church (USA), I have devoted years to creating spaces of belonging for others. Yet, this verse reassures me that I, too, have a place of belonging in God. During times when I have felt misunderstood or unseen, God’s presence has been my shelter.

The second part of the verse, “underneath are the everlasting arms,” is equally powerful. It reminds me that no matter how far I fall, God’s grace will always catch me. As I navigate my transition and embrace my gender identity, this truth has become a source of strength. In a world that often feels uncertain or unkind, the assurance that I am held by God’s everlasting arms brings me peace. These arms are not temporary or conditional; they are eternal, steady, and full of love. They remind me that I do not have to bear everything alone—God’s strength supports me.

This verse also speaks to my calling as a pastor. Just as God is my dwelling place, I strive to help others find a home in His love. Just as God’s arms hold me, I seek to reflect that embrace for those who feel lost or weary. Whether I am preaching, writing, or simply sitting with someone in their struggles, I want to remind them that God’s love is both a refuge and a foundation.

Ultimately, Deuteronomy 33:27 reassures me that I am never alone. In every moment of transition, every act of courage, and every unknown step forward, God remains my dwelling place, and underneath me are the everlasting arms. That is a truth I hold onto with all my heart.