Mom is dead
and my brother
inherited her dog
old herself now
at eighteen.

Hips crippled up
thick cataracts in her eyes
nearly deaf
coat that was once
richly reddish-brown enough
to inspire the name
Cinnamon
now almost entirely white.

Everybody looks at her and thinks
“It won’t be long now.”

And at Cindy’s end
Is another part of Mom gone
Another link to the old days broken
Because Cindy remembers her
And we have loving her in common.

But Cindy’s still here.
Still with us
Still gets the zoomies
(Although 18-year-old
Chihuahua zoomies are
A very different affair from
Puppy zoomies)
Still eats her kibble
With dignified spice girl entheusiasm.

And all I want
Is to keep her with us
And keep her comfortable
And wanting to be with us
until she can’t anymore.

And saying goodbye to her
Becomes another way
To say goodbye
To Mom.

Babtists

My sense of right and wrong is well developed and is based in justice, not in following the second-hand pronouncements of a god that I no longer believe exists.

I was raised in Southern Baptist churches. Every moment of my young life I felt like an outsider. The Baptists helped with that. Inside me was the hard truth that every day, I secretly wished I was a girl. I heard over and over again from the churchy people in my family, who insisted (without knowing what was true of me, because I kept that secret buried deep inside) that people with sin in their hearts were bound for Hell, and that femininity in a male was a sickness and a sin.

I was presented with a choice. And my choice was to embrace my whole self: to be a good person, and to let the idea that I was inherently evil go, instead of internalizing the self-hatred I had been raised to. Every positive step I’ve taken since then has led to a larger worldview and a stronger sense of myself in the larger context.

My sense of right and wrong is well developed and is based in justice, not in following the second-hand pronouncements of a god that I no longer believe exists. This is not to say that I have not been a little shit at times in my life. I have. I acknowledge that I have made mistakes, as everyone does, and I continue to try to move forward and choose to take good action for myself and those I love as best I can.

But the Southern Baptist Council, the governing body of the churches I attended as a child, continues to dehumanize and marginalize people, and continues to believe that its views should rule this country and hold dominion over this world. At the 2024 Southern Baptist Convention, attendees voted to actively oppose Obergefeld, to exclude from membership any church with a female pastor, and to keep the SBC’s financials from being made public, thereby confirming their ideology as toxic.

Of course, they also have this effed up resolution, dated June 1st, 2014, that permanently separates me from the ideology of much of my family: On Transgender Identity, which is contradictory and hateful on a profound level. They claim that “we love our transgender neighbors” and in the same document resolve to “oppose all cultural efforts to validate claims to transgender identity,” rendering the whole document nonsensical and branding themselves once again as hypocrites.

And that’s at the heart of my exit from that religion and from the positive regard of much of my family.

not my family, not my church

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