Saturday, August 27, 2022

 Opinion

Now more than ever: Let’s get the Equal Rights Amendment finalized

As women of faith, we are committed to the common task of making the ERA the law of the land.

Jamie Manson, head of Catholics for Choice, speaks during demonstrations in front of the U.S. Supreme Court, May 3, 2022, in Washington. RNS photo by Jack Jenkins

(RNS) — Recent Supreme Court opinions dangerously undermine women’s equal protection under the law. As women of faith, we are alarmed and active. Each of us has struggled against patriarchal interpretations of texts and teachings that undermine women’s autonomy and rights. We reject the mainstreaming of repressive religious interpretations in shared public spaces that derail our quest for equal justice.

On Women’s Equality Day, we affirm the Equal Rights Amendment as an essential next step to protect women’s rights and dignity.

Justice and equality are at the heart of the human project. American history is replete with diverse, multifaith coalitions that advance cultural shifts toward inclusivity. It is appalling that the Supreme Court in Dobbs v. Jackson overturned abortion rights based on the literal text of a centuries-old document that excluded women from its inception. “The Constitution makes no reference to abortion, and no such right is implicitly protected …,” wrote Justice Samuel Alito.

We recognize this brand of originalism from religion. Opposing justice because a text does not mention a word or emerged from a patriarchal context is a familiar argument made to preserve hierarchical power. It has long been common conservative practice to declare that the sexist historical context in which a document was penned should remain the norm today — just as the court did. 

Many of our religious texts make no explicit mention of the terms “abortion,” “homosexuality,” “same-sex marriage” or “the declaration of human rights,” but all emphatically insist on justice. 

Islamic ethics allow for many views on abortion, depending on what kind of scriptural sources are considered and by whom. (SDI Productions/E+ via Getty Images)

Islamic ethics allow for many views on abortion, depending on what kind of scriptural sources are considered and by whom. (SDI Productions/E+ via Getty Images)

In Islam, the word “abortion” does not exist; the supreme right and well-being of the mother do. For centuries, a Muslim woman has had the right to end her pregnancy whether for the mother’s health or for economic reasons. A fetus’s personhood is only recognized with the baby’s first gasp of air.   

Judaism has a similar belief rooted in Exodus. The Jewish tradition has such reverence for human life that the pregnant person is held in high regard. Abortion is not only mandated to save the mother’s life but is permitted to save her from great distress, physical or emotional. The ancient rabbis described a fetus as part of the mother’s body, which does not take on personhood until the majority of the head emerges from the womb. 

Protestant and Catholic Christians hold diverse views of abortion and women’s equality. A thread of misogyny runs through traditional orthodoxy; control of women remains a consistent theme in many theologies. Yet, Christian sacred texts highlight the dignity and empowerment of women in accord with Jesus’ teaching that all are equal. 

Christian Scriptures are silent on abortion. There is no Christian consensus on when fetal life begins. Many feel compelled by their faith to respect women’s moral agency to make prayerful choices about childbearing and family life. Opposition to responsible reproduction is a minority view among U.S. Christians. It should not be accorded broad legal authority in a pluralistic society.

The Sikh tradition proclaims the equality and dignity of women. Sikh sacred texts present a vision of a world where people of all castes, creeds and genders are sovereign in their bodies. Any ban on abortion is a violation of this core belief. To strip away a woman’s freedom to care for her body — to decide when, whether and how to bring children into the world — is to deny her intelligence and humanity. 

In 1802, Thomas Jefferson stated that “a wall of separation between Church and State” was a foundational element of American democracy. Since then, the U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly cited Jefferson’s words as justification for the priority of secular law over the teachings of any individual faith. We live in a democratic society where rule of law, not fiat, should control.

Part of a crowd of 25,000 demonstrators march along Chicago's lakefront on May 10, 1980, in support of the Equal Rights Amendment. Many churches and religious organizations participated in the event. RNS archive photo. Photo courtesy of the Presbyterian Historical Society

Part of a crowd of 25,000 demonstrators march along Chicago’s lakefront on May 10, 1980, in support of the Equal Rights Amendment. Many churches and religious organizations participated in the event. RNS archive photo. Photo courtesy of the Presbyterian Historical Society

The Equal Rights Amendment will play an important role in ensuring such a democracy. By inserting these words in the Constitution: “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged … on the basis of sex,” we can correct the intentional exclusion of women. For the first time in U.S. history, people of all genders will be citizens of equal stature. 

This nation is a hair’s breadth away from finalizing the ERA. It has been duly ratified by 38 states and needs only to be published by the U.S. archivist. We call on President Biden to ensure that this happens swiftly. We call on the U.S. Senate to affirm that there is no arbitrary deadline on the ERA’s adoption. 

Recent Supreme Court decisions, with repercussions in the states, have shown us how urgent this reform is. As women of faith, we are committed to the common task of making the ERA the law of the land. We invite all people of goodwill to join us as we get it done.

(Ani Zonneveld is the founder and president of Muslims for Progressive Values. Lisa Sharon Harper is the president and founder of Freedom Road. Mary E. Hunt, Ph.D., is cofounder and codirector of the Women’s Alliance for Theology, Ethics, and Ritual (WATER). Valarie Kaur leads the Revolutionary Love Project. Rabbi Sharon Brous is the senior and founding rabbi of IKAR and a leading voice in reanimating religious life in America. Allyson McKinney Timm is a human rights lawyer and the founder of Justice Revival. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)

Christian groups step up harassment of pagan festivals

American pagans and witches depend heavily on assemblies with names like Pagan Pride and Between the Worlds to share information and camaraderie.

People attend WitchsFest USA 2022 in New York's Astor Place on July 16, 2022. Video screen grab

(RNS) — As widespread immunity and milder COVID-19 strains have spread across the U.S., pagans and witches, like their neighbors, have begun to gather more freely this summer at  annual community events after two years of relative isolation. So have some unwelcome guests.

Street preachers and Christian protesters have long been a fixture of earth-based religions’ gatherings as they try to distract and deter people from enjoying what are typically outdoor festivals and ritual gatherings. But this year, some attendees say, these opponents of witchcraft and paganism have become more aggressive and even dangerous.

“There were about 30 (evangelists) this year” said Starr RavenHawk, an elder and priestess of the New York City Wiccan Family Temple and organizer of WitchsFest USA, a street fair held in the city’s West Village in mid-July.


Over the past seven years, barely half a dozen of these disruptors would show up, RavenHawk said. But the groups who have appeared this year “aren’t just protesting,” she added. “They are collectively at war with us. They made that clear.”


RELATED: What is Wicca? An expert on modern witchcraft explains.


Starr RavenHawk. Photo via Facebook

Starr RavenHawk. Photo via Facebook

RavenHawk said the evangelists and street preachers walked through WitchsFest, holding up signs and preaching through amplifiers. By the day’s end, their presence had caused class cancellations and vendor closings.

Without formal networks of houses of worship and often living far from fellow practitioners, American pagans and witches depend heavily on assemblies with names like Pagan Pride and Between the Worlds to share information and camaraderie. While some are held inside conference centers or in hotel ballrooms, summer events tend to be visible and hard to secure.

In 2016, Nashville Pagan Pride Day was visited by street preachers Quentin Deckard, Marvin Heiman and Tim Baptist, who marched through the event with signs, Bibles and a bullhorn. In 2017, The Keys of David Church protested Philadelphia Pagan Pride Day. In 2018, a Christian men’s group encircled a modest crowd at Auburn Pagan Pride Day in Alabama in an attempt to intimidate them.

Indoor events aren’t entirely immune. In 2018 and 2019, members of TFP Student Action, a division of American Society for the Defense of Tradition, Family and Property, were joined by Catholics in New Orleans to protest HexFest, held annually at the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. Religious flyers placed under hotel doors informed attendees they were surrounded. “Your only hope is to accept defeat and surrender your life to One who created you,” read one flyer.

On the same weekend as WitchsFest USA, attendees at the Mystic South conference in Atlanta found Christian pamphlets in the lobby and on car windows outside the hotel where it was taking place. In Texas, pastor Kevin Hendrix has encouraged Christians to take a stand against the Polk County Pagan Market, held in October.

Many Pagan events are not held in public spaces for this reason, although that has been changing over the past 10 years as occult practices have found more acceptance in the public eye.

Held in busy Astor Place, a tourist crossroads, the daylong WitchsFest USA is one of the most visible pagan festivals and, therefore, one of the most vulnerable. 

“RavenHawk creates this marvelous event every year in the heart of New York City as a public celebration where everyone is welcome as long as they maintain an atmosphere of respect towards others,” said Elhoim Leafar, who was scheduled to lead a workshop at WitchsFest USA and has attended for years.

The Christian group took up a prominent position on one street corner as the festival began at 10 a.m. and began talking to attendees and preaching into amplification devices. Among them, RavenHawk said she recognized members of the NYC chapter of Christian Forgiveness Ministries, a Toronto organization that had sent visitors before.

Crowds attend WitchsFest USA 2016 in New York's Astor Place. Photo courtesy of WitchsFest USA

Crowds attend WitchsFest USA 2016 in New York’s Astor Place. Photo courtesy of WitchsFest USA

After her security team asked the preachers to leave, RavenHawk called the police as she has done in past years. But, for the first time, the cops did nothing, she said.

“The Christians say nobody is being bothered,” RavenHawk was reportedly told by the officers. In past years, officers would relocate the preachers to the far side of Astor Place, where they would continue without the use of speakers, which require a permit.

This year, the Christian groups were allowed to remain at the festival with their sound amplification. According to RavenHawk, the officers called the preaching “freedom of speech.” It is unclear whether the groups had permits. 

One attendee, Soror Da Glorium Deo, said, “When the police had the opportunity to downgrade things by possibly escorting the troublemakers off the area, they chose not to de-escalate.”

The New York Police Department did not respond to requests for comment.

“(The officers) treated us as if we were invading the Christians’ space, as if they had more rights than we do” RavenHawk said. “(The preachers) were loud, and they were carrying on. Of course it was disruptive.” 

When organizers moved the workshop tent away from the corner near the preachers, the Christian groups followed. “At a certain point, the protesters were not only in the surroundings and corners of the event with microphones and banners, but inside it,” said Leafar, whose class was cancelled due to the preachers.

“We are not publicly protesting at their churches on a Sunday,” he said.

“It is not correct, moral or ethical to harass any individual in public or in private based on their individual or family beliefs,” Leafar said. He believes that this behavior comes from ignorance and a “contempt for our individual values.”

By the middle of that day, two vendors left, said RavenHawk, telling her that “they didn’t feel safe.”

RavenHawk said she is tired of “turning the other cheek.” She has called New York’s Street Activity Permits Office, the Community Board and the 9th Precinct (NYPD). “I want a paper trail,” she said. “I want to know exactly what my rights are.”

RavenHawk also called Lady Liberty League, a pagan civil rights organization based in Wisconsin, for legal advice and support.

“The United States is founded on religious freedom for all,” said Lady Liberty League co-founder the Rev. Selena Fox in a statement to RNS. “Safe gathering and the right to practice our faith is as much our right as it is anyone else’s,” she said.


RELATED: Pagan ‘metaphysical’ shops navigate threats from Christian critics


Some attendees have suggested that RavenHawk move the event to a less public location, such as a park or hotel.

“We shouldn’t have to move,” she said. “We fought for this location for eight years.” It took that long, according to RavenHawk, for the community board to designate “WitchsFest USA” an “annual” event. Until then she was required to reapply every year, she said, enduring questions such as, “Are you going to burn babies?”

Leafar agrees that it is important to not back down. “If we remain silent in the face of these protesters, those people who are new to our community are going to feel that they do not have the right to express themselves and pursue their individual faith openly.” 

This story has been updated.

Demi Lovato’s fusing of the sacred and the profane is part evolution, part miracle

Lovato knows how it feels to break the tenets of conventional society while all eyes are on you.

Demi Lovato’s latest album, titled “Holy Fvck.

(RNS) — This is not the first time I’ve felt sacrilegious singing a Demi Lovato song.

When I was 14, the title track of the singer-songwriter’s debut album, “Don’t Forget,” was my jam, a fact I tried to hide from nearly everyone I knew. My community, primarily Black like me, seemed to listen exclusively to rap and R&B. My passion for a pop-rock bop — “white” music — would make me an oddity if anyone ever found out about it.

More importantly, I had heard enough Sunday sermons to know how weird it was for a boy to enjoy belting a song about a fading romance with a boy. One could call it strange. Queer, even.


RELATED: Beyoncé invites church girls to celebrate their freedom


Demi can relate. She has never been good at maintaining the image the industry expected of a former Disney Channel star. Her first stint in a treatment facility derailed the show she starred in (“Sonny With a Chance”). In 2018, Lovato came out as sexually fluid, and a year later as gender nonbinary. A few weeks ago, they said they were using the pronouns “she/her” again, in addition to “they/them” — explaining that she was feeling more feminine of late. Lovato knows how it feels to break the tenets of conventional society while all eyes are on you.

Demi Lovato’s for her album “HOLY FVCK." Photo by Brandon Bowen

Demi Lovato for her album “Holy Fvck.” Photo by Brandon Bowen

The older she gets, Lovato seems to become more herself, more assured of who she is and unafraid of showing it, no matter who gasps or makes the sign of the cross. Many of us manage this evolution, but when it’s an LGBTQ+ person who was raised Baptist, as Lovato was, their evolution seems nothing short of a miracle. Christians separate the world into the sacred and the profane, unfairly denying LGBTQ+ people the former, the better to categorize them as the latter.

Lovato’s latest album, titled “Holy Fvck,” is a bombastic call for Pharaoh to let Demi’s people go.

The album revels in religious condemnation, with Lovato boasting about her “sinfulness.” “Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven sent,” she sings in the album’s opener, “Freak.” Embracing damnation isn’t a new concept in pop — Rina Sawayama’s summer bop “This Hell” challenges religiously motivated attacks on LGBTQ+ rights: “God hates us? Alright then! / Buckle up at dawn we’re riding.”

But Lovato’s brilliant wordplay and overt and also subtle allusions to the Bible make her interpretation fresh. “I’m just trying to keep my head above water / I’m your son and I’m your daughter / I’m your mother, I’m your father / I’m just a product of the problem,” Lovato sings in “Skin of My Teeth.”

“Skin of My Teeth” also takes on Lovato’s struggles with addiction and her freedom to move from one gender identity to another, reminiscent of the Trinity. The alcohol Lovato is afraid of drowning in is likened to a baptism, but here, there is no washing away of sins; here, the water is the sin. This pivotal act of Christianity is flipped.

The water imagery continues with the song “Heaven,” which takes a passage from the Gospel of Matthew — “And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell” — and essentially responds, Nah, hell is better. “If pleasure’s wrong, cast me out like a sinner,” Lovato sings, “I found myself with my two little fingers. … My right hand’s got me singing my praises. Holy water and my spirit awakens.”

The album, as its title might suggest, joins Beyonce’s recent release “Church Girls” in giving us some of the most potent, sonic combinations of holiness and sex since maybe Prince.

“Skin of My Teeth” and the tracks “Eat Me,” “Holy Fvck” and “Feed” evoke the Last Supper, the body of Lovato broken for all at the table but with Lovato not as a savior but instead a sinner. “Cause my body’s the communion / Take a bite of what I’m doing,” she sings on “Holy Fvck,” which compares sex with her to the sort of enlightenment many call to God for. “I’ll show you the light with all the lights off … I’ll bring you to life,” as Jesus did Lazarus.

Demi Lovato’s latest album, titled “HOLY FVCK." Photo by Brandon Bowen

The cover of Demi Lovato’s latest album, titled “Holy Fvck.” Photo by Brandon Bowen

The album probably could bring the dead to life. It’s loud, full of heavy metal and screamo elements that take me back to the pop-rock/emo bands of my adolescence: Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Evanescence, The All-American Rejects. “Holy Fvck” is reminiscent of the rage Fiona Apple captured in her 2020 album, “Fetch the Bolt Cutters.” Lovato’s album is more accessible, though, hewing closer to classic pop in its songs’ structures.

This should make “4 Ever 4 Me” — a ballad that wouldn’t sound out of place on Taylor Swift’s country-pop-rock “Speak Now” — less surprising. Promising a lover “forever” and “heaven” is practically a prerequisite for airplay for Lovato’s base. But “4 Ever 4 Me” is quieter than the rest of the album, less thunderous, and its emotional resonance benefits. Deeming her lover “beautifully made” (an echo of Psalm 139), Lovato sees her lover the way God sees the companion. The borders of the sacred and the profane are dissolved.


ARCHIVE: Demi Lovato’s controversial trip to Israel included exploring Jewish roots


“I don’t believe in organized religion anymore,” Lovato told the Los Angeles Times in an interview about “Holy Fvck.” “My God is the universe. It’s so much bigger than me, or us.”

I won’t be surprised if “Holy Fvck” earns a nomination for Album of the Year Grammy. Though not a game changer sonically, it’s lyrically rich, shows Lovato to be more of a songwriter than I thought. She has come so far from “Don’t Forget,” a song that still “slaps,” as the youths say. “Holy Fvck,” her eighth and arguably her best album, makes me wonder if, had my adolescent self heard it, I would have been less inclined to believe I was destined for hell and more aware of my sacredness. I might have even quoted “Eat Me” to my critics. “I can’t spoon feed you anymore. You’ll have to eat me as I am.”

(Da’Shawn Mosley is an editor and journalist in the Washington, D.C., metro area. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)

 

How India’s ‘Hindutva pop’ stars use music to target Muslims

Observers say the increasingly popular genre is triggering violence against Muslims, a minority already marginalized by Hindu nationalists with support from the BJP government.

Upendra Rana sings in one of his YouTube Videos labeled as part of the genre 'Hindutva pop.' YouTube screengrab

(RNS) — Upendra Rana, a singer-songwriter based in the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, started by performing at low-key events in and around his village of Rasulpur before launching his YouTube channel in 2019. Since then the unassuming, middle-aged Rana, whom one Indian publication described as dressed like a bank clerk, has amassed close to 400,000 followers, with some of his songs attracting millions of views.

His secret? Rana is a star in an incendiary genre referred to as “Hindutva pop” that paints Muslim Indians as villains who should move to Pakistan, India’s Muslim-majority neighbor.

In a video made last year, Rana is seen praising Yati Narsinghanand Saraswati, a powerful Hindu priest who openly calls for genocide of Muslims and creating an Islam-free India — in a song about the “resurgence” of a Hindu nation.

Rana is unapologetic about anti-Muslim hatred in his songs. “They (Muslims) can’t stand the truth,” he told Religion News Service. “They can say anything about our gods and expect us to be mum. Even then, we are not as violent as them.” 


RELATED: How American couples’ ‘inter-Hindu’ marriages are changing the faith


At the same time, he dismisses the idea that his songs are offensive. “I talk about the glorious Hindu kings of the past. Most of their opponents were Muslims. So, whenever I talk about them their opponents would be mentioned. So what’s the harm in that?” he asked.

But many observers say the increasingly popular genre, which emerged after the Bharatiya Janata Party won national elections in 2014, is triggering violence against Muslims, a minority already marginalized by Hindu nationalists with support from the BJP government.

Abhay Kumar, a journalist and activist in New Delhi, believes that Hindutva pop is sponsored by the nationalist government itself. “These songs have led to increased polarization of masses and helped in creating an atmosphere of fear for minorities. Such an atmosphere is beneficial for a few political parties in the country for their electoral gains,” he said.

Sending Muslims to Pakistan is a prominent theme. “Muslalmano ke do sthan, ya Pakistan, ya Qabristan,” goes one popular song — “Muslims deserve only two places, either Pakistan or the graveyard.”

But the threat of Hindutva pop goes beyond taunts and suggestions Muslims don’t belong in India. “These songs have become a precursor to violence against us,” said Amjad Khan, a resident of Khargone, in central India, who watched as a mob whipped up by Hindutva music attacked a Muslim neighborhood there during Muslim-Hindu clashes in April.

Across the “cow belt” — the north and central regions of the country known for their strong tilt toward Hindu conservatism — Hindutva pop has become the soundtrack for anti-Muslim attacks, observers say.

“In many parts where riots took place,” said Aasif Mujtaba, an activist with the Miles2Smile Foundation, which helps rehabilitate those affected by mass violence, “one thing that we found common was that these extremely provocative songs were being played on loudspeakers to mobilize people.”

Pushpak Raja, a creator of Hindutva pop from the central Indian state of Bihar, explains that his mission is to “further the agenda” of India’s ruling Hindu nationalist party. 

He has produced songs supporting government measures such as ending the autonomy of the disputed Muslim-majority region of Kashmir in 2019 and the building of a temple to the Hindu god Ram on the site of a demolished 16th-century mosque in Uttar Pradesh.

“I sing about issues that I feel affect the unity of my nation. If someone is eyeing at our nation with wrong intentions, I sing about it,” said Raja.

“The people who consider this land as their mother would always like my songs,” he added.

Umesh Kumar Rana (no relation to Upendra Rana) is another Hindutva pop artist who has found fame. His interest in music was triggered, he said, when his parents taught him to sing Hindu devotional songs when he was growing up in Uttar Pradesh. But the demand for Hindutva pop convinced him to shift his focus a couple of years ago to sing mostly about “Thakur” pride.

Thakurs are a powerful Hindu community who are traditionally considered “warriors” in India’s caste system.  

Unlike many of his counterparts, he doesn’t invest in building his YouTube audience. Instead he records on small music labels. Like other Hindutva singers, Kumar believes Muslims have gotten more than their share in the country, and it is important now to talk about the “Hindu” pride.

“We have roads and streets named after (Muslims),” he said. “People sing praises about Muslim medieval rulers, but our Hindu kings are demeaned and downplayed. I am trying to change that with my songs.”

The audience for singers like Rana like both the sound and the message. “I listen to the songs of Upendra Rana bhaiya (brother) and others, as I like them,” Rajesh Mishra, a teenager from the Meerut, in Uttar Pradesh, told RNS. “They are not only fast-paced, the kind of music I like, but also teach us about Hinduism and nationalism.” 


RELATED: Dispute over mosque becomes religious flashpoint in India


Mishra said many of his friends have started listening to the genre over the last couple of years.

“It is like learning while listening to music,” Mishra said. “We are being made aware about our history, so why should it bother anyone?”

This article is produced by Religion News Service with support from the Guru Krupa Foundation.

Friday, August 26, 2022

‘Most Trans People are Just Trying to Live’

As anti-LGBTQ+ legislation targets youth in other states, a trans teen in tolerant Hawaii experiences the growing pains of simply growing up.


BY BRUCE MIRKEN

AUGUST 26, 2022

Transgender youth have been in the news a lot this year—or, to put it more accurately, adults legislating and pontificating about trans youth have been in the news a lot. A recent CNN analysis found that 2022 is already a record year for anti-LGBTQ+ legislation at the state level, with most of the bills targeting “transgender and nonbinary people, with a particular emphasis on trans youth.”

Twenty-one states have considered legislation restricting gender-affirming health care for young people, and two states, Arizona and Alabama, have passed such measures. In Texas, Governor Greg Abbott has ordered state agencies to investigate parents for child abuse if they provide gender-affirming care to their trans children. Many of these policies have been challenged in court, and in some cases temporarily or partially blocked, but the legal and legislative fights rage on.

Percival Best lives in a state without any anti-trans laws. A resident of Hilo, Hawaii, Best is a seventeen-year-old trans boy with plenty of thoughts and opinions. But most of his days aren’t consumed with politics; they’re spent living his life and trying to be his authentic self in a world that doesn’t always understand him.

Percy grew up as most transgender people do: trying to fit into the gender expectations of everyone around him, despite the fact that the gender he was assigned at birth never felt right. “I always felt uncomfortable,” he recalls. “I rebelled against every single authority most of my childhood.”


Courtesy Percival Best


Percival Best

His feelings began to crystallize when he was about twelve. “I always felt like I wasn’t myself, like I was playing a role” by dressing and attempting to behave in a stereotypically feminine way, Percy says. “When I look back at my childhood, it feels like I’m watching a movie where I can relate to the characters, but it’s not me.”

Wearing traditionally feminine clothing or jewelry would trigger gender dysphoria—the discomfort trans and nonbinary people experience when the gender they were assigned at birth is misaligned with their gender identity. “It basically just feels like every cell in your body’s going to throw up,” Percy says.

“I knew I felt like a boy,” he recalls, but then he would look at his body and think, “I was born a girl so I’ve got to be a girl. I’ve got to accept my fate just until I die. Then I can be a boy.”

Fortunately, those morbid feelings that are all too common among trans teens—especially without gender-affirming care—didn’t last. After searching online and exploring queer identities, he discovered what it meant to be transgender and realized it applied to him. It meant that “I don’t have to be uncomfortable my whole life,” he adds.

That’s when he chose the name Percival, his favorite character from Arthurian legends. His parents had given him a Hindu name that was gender-neutral, but he wasn’t that fond of it and wanted to define his own identity.

Percy’s parents were resistant: “My mom wanted my hair to be really long. I would cut it sometimes, just a little, and she would get really mad at me. And when I eventually did cut my hair really short, she started crying. . . . She’s like, ‘But why did you cut your hair? It’s so pretty. You’re going to regret it.’”

“I didn’t regret it,” he says. “I still don’t regret it.”

Percy says his mother’s Hindu faith was initially a barrier to acceptance. Believing in reincarnation, she felt that her child was born a girl because that’s what he was supposed to be.

So to please his mom, Percy made another try at being a girl. “It lasted less than a week,” he remembers. “I was like, ‘This sucks,’ and I went back to wearing my normal clothes, and then I cut my hair.” He immediately felt more comfortable. And, over time, he’s learned to relax about it more and to put less of a conscious effort into looking masculine. “I just talk how I want, dress how I want, have my hair how I want. If people use the wrong pronouns, I just correct them.”

His parents have become more accepting too, even if they’re not exactly enthusiastic. And while at seventeen he hasn’t yet begun any sort of medical transition, they’ve offered to use the family’s health insurance toward top surgery when the time comes. He’s also thinking about taking testosterone, but right now, Percy’s top priority is simply living his life.

In the last two years, Percy’s interest in theater and participating in the Hilo Community Players theater has brought a new set of friends who have accepted him. He got his first taste of acting in 2014. “I was not a very good actor, but I liked it a lot,” he remembers.

This summer, he played Adrian in a Shakespeare in the Park production of The Tempest. The year before, he played Romeo in the KidShakes version of Romeo and Juliet (asked about whether he enjoyed playing a romantic leading man, he says, “Nah, Romeo’s a whiner”). His work in theater helped relieve the anxiety and depression that had built up when the pandemic hit and caused him to spend a lot of time in isolation.


Percy mostly focuses on his own life and future, not the politics of anti-trans hate.

Difficult as that pandemic-induced isolation was, it helped Percy let go of trying to be what others wanted him to be. “I was kind of forced to reflect and be with myself for a bit . . . My whole life was just trying to make other people happy and be a person that other people wouldn’t hate.” Now he feels like he’s setting his own course.

Fortunately, he’s doing it in a state that has generally been supportive of transgender residents. In June, Governor David Ige signed a series of LGBTQ-friendly bills into law, including one that bars insurance companies from denying gender-affirming care. “All health care services related to gender transition treatments,” the bill states, “shall be considered medically necessary and not cosmetic.”

Medical organizations such as the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) have unambiguously opposed actions such as the executive order in Texas.

As AAP and its Texas chapter put it, “For young people who identify as transgender, studies show that gender-affirming care can reduce emotional distress, improve their sense of well-being and reduce the risk of suicide.” In an official statement, the Harvard Law Review was even more blunt: “While Texas politicians cry child abuse, the real abuse lies in denying youth the necessary care prescribed to them by their doctors.”

But Percy mostly focuses on his own life and future, not the politics of anti-trans hate. His immediate plans include college, then perhaps working in a bakery and going to confectionery school to learn how to be a pâtissier. And he wants to take a turn as a line cook in a restaurant. (Restaurants, he notes, are “a bit like theater.”) He has also considered getting into local politics at some point “to make some difference, at least in the city that I live in.”

He talks enthusiastically about things like community gardens and local food production—a serious issue in Hawaii, a lush place with a year-round growing season that produces no less than 20 percent of its own food—and how U.S. cities are too car-centric.

Asked what he might say to anti-trans officials, Percy first responds that trying to change their minds is probably hopeless. But he’s not averse to trying to educate the public, and eventually circles around to a message for politicians as well: “God loves all of us. Part of loving people is accepting that some people need help in ways that you don’t, and understanding that we all have different experiences [and] we can’t speak for other people.”

The bottom line, he says, is that “People act like it’s a bigger deal than it is. Most trans people are just trying to live.”