“I mourn the Missouri that I knew and the community that I had, but it doesn’t exist now because so many people had to flee,” trans pastor Lazarus Justice Jameson told PinkNews. “I am mourning a thing that is no longer allowed to exist.”

Jameson, who uses they/them pronouns, left Missouri last year after a wave of bills aimed at restricting trans rights. During the summer of that year, they traveled to Portland, Oregon, in search of a safer life.

To mark Trans Awareness Week, which runs until Tuesday November 19, Lazarus spoke about the harsh realities of being forced to leave your home simply because he is trans.

Missouri ranks among worst US states for LGBTQ+ people last year due to a series of bills targeting the community. By early 2023, lawmakers in the conservative Midwestern state had proposed 49 invoices attacking trans people, 40 of whom are still being hunted by the American Civil Liberties Union.

Proposed laws included policies to force out trans schoolchildren, bans on gender-affirming care and drag shows, and exemptions from anti-discrimination regulations for those who refuse to serve transgender men and women.

Although he moved to Oregon, one of Most LGBTQ-friendly statesLazare still faces discrimination and harassment.

The journey that brought Lazarus out was marked by tragedy and faith.

In the wake of 2016 Pulse nightclub massacrethey came out as cisgender lesbians to “grieve with my people.” Towards the end of 2019, just before the COVID-19 pandemic, they came out as non-binary.

Today, living openly as a trans person, Lazarus says he feels more authentic in a life he believes is true to his spiritual calling because he is certain that God is “delighted when we come out and live fully , openly and without shame.

While working with the nonprofit Lot’s Wife Trans and Queer Chaplaincy in St. Louis, Lazarus hoped to help build community in Missouri. But as anti-trans legislation emerged, they found themselves with a new focus.

“There aren’t many safer places in the United States.”

“My ministry has evolved from fighting to create community to helping others get by,” they say. The change followed a conversation with a lawmaker, who bluntly told them they could “leave or die.”

However, the question remains complex. “There aren’t many safer places in the United States,” Lazarus says. “The places we are going are not easy and there was no welcome parade in Oregon. We use the term “trans refugee” for good reason. I found that it’s not always safe here either. It’s supposed to be, but I don’t feel it.

Resettlement challenges go far beyond lack of security. “We scattered and fled, hoping for a better life, but it doesn’t necessarily come. We have no community, no resources,” Lazarus emphasizes.

Currently, they are social workers, a job they love, but they are still afraid as anti-trans sentiment rises across the country.

“To live, I had to leave Missouri”

They admit to having nightmares about President-elect Donald Trump and his anti-trans campaign ads, which would have cost nearly $215 million (£169 million). Democrat Sarah McBride, the first trans person elected to the US Congress, describes the ads as part of a broader attempt at the right to “fear and scapegoat.”

Lazarus goes on to say, “I don’t know how long Oregon will be safe. But to live, I had to leave Missouri.

Despite the sense of loss, they found community among the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, a nonprofit group of “drag nuns” dedicated to charity and community action, which helped alleviate some of the pain. loneliness.

Their vision of the future, however, remains cautious. They have only a modest hope that they and others like them will “have the privilege of growing old.”

Their experience reflects broader trends surrounding trans and gender diverse people in the United States, many of whom face mental health challenges in the face of systemic discrimination.

A study published in October found that Trans and gender fluid adults are six times more likely to have attempted suicide than their cisgender peers.

Lazarus, who is transmasculine, expresses a small but powerful wish for their future, saying, “I want to be old, weirdly hairy, and yell at kids to get off my lawn.” »

Suicide is preventable. Readers concerned about issues raised in this story are encouraged to contact the Samaritans on 116 123 (www.samaritans.org), or Mind on 0300 123 3393 (www.mind.org.uk). Readers in the United States are encouraged to contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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