When the Church Pretends It’s Not Involved
Every year on November 20, we read the names of trans people murdered in the last twelve months.
We call it Trans Day of Remembrance.
We talk about “violence,” as if it just appears out of nowhere, like bad weather. We talk about “hate,” as if it lives only in the hearts of a handful of unstable strangers.
We almost never talk about the systems that trained that hate.
We almost never talk about the pulpits.
Let’s name the body on the table
If we’re going to do an autopsy, we have to be honest about what’s on the table.
- Trans people are not dying because they exist.
- Trans people are dying because the world has been told, over and over, that their existence is a threat.
And the church has been one of the loudest, most consistent voices saying exactly that.
Not every church. Not every Christian. But the institution? The brands? The big conferences? The viral pastors and the “family values” lobbyists?
They have pumped out a simple message for decades:
Trans people are a problem. A danger. A sign of decay. A test of our faithfulness.
Once you declare a group of people a “threat,” violence becomes predictable.
Words turn into policies. Policies turn into harassment. Harassment turns into beatings, homelessness, suicide, murder.
When we stand at a Trans Day of Remembrance vigil and say, “We don’t know how this keeps happening,” we are lying to ourselves. We know exactly how it keeps happening.
We built the machine.
The theology behind the headlines
You don’t get anti-trans laws and street-level violence without a theology to back it up.
You’ve heard the lines:
- “God made them male and female.”
- “We’re just defending biblical truth.”
- “We love the sinner, hate the sin.”
Underneath those lines sits a whole framework:
- Rigid gender roles as sacred
God didn’t just create people; God allegedly ordained pink and blue, forever. Any deviation is rebellion. - Bodies as property of the church
Your body doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to God, and conveniently, certain pastors, denominations, and think tanks claim they speak for God. - Fear of loss of control
If trans people are real, if gender isn’t as simple as two fixed boxes, then a whole hierarchy slips. Patriarchy feels threatened. So it fights back.
This theology shows up in sermons, youth group talks, marriage books, Christian school policies, and “prayer points” about the culture.
It sounds spiritual. It functions like a weapon.
By the time a trans person shows up in the ER or on a memorial list, the violence has already been preached a thousand times.
“But we’re not like those Christians…”
This is the dodge a lot of progressive and moderate churches love.
“We’re not like those Christians. We’re welcoming. We’re nice. We put rainbows on our website in June. We’d never support that kind of hate.”
Okay. But let’s press on that.
- Do you clearly say, in public, that trans women are women and trans men are men?
- Do you call out anti-trans theology by name?
- Do you confront members who misgender or mock trans people?
- Do your bathrooms, small groups, youth ministry, and leadership structures reflect genuine safety and inclusion?
- Have you repented, specifically, for past harm the church has done to trans people?
If not, you may not be swinging the hammer, but you’re holding the nails.
Silence is not neutral. In a climate like this, silence sides with the people doing the harm.
You can’t preach “all are welcome” and stay quiet while trans kids lose healthcare, while families flee states, while trans people keep burying their friends. That’s not welcome. That’s spiritual malpractice.
What we remember on Trans Day of Remembrance
On TDOR, we read names. We light candles. But if we stop there, we turn real people into sad, safe symbols.
Let’s remember specific truths:
- Many of those we name are Black and Brown trans women and femmes. Race, gender, poverty, and transphobia stack against them.
- Many faced family rejection, homelessness, job discrimination, and police harassment long before anyone reported their death.
- Many had some kind of church in their story — and too often that church contributed to their shame instead of their safety.
They were not tragedies. They were people. They laughed, loved, cooked, danced, worked, texted memes, had petty fights, bad days, inside jokes, real dreams.
Remembering them means more than saying their names correctly once a year. It means asking: What would it take for people like them to be alive, thriving, and safe in our communities right now?
And then refusing to treat that question as hypothetical.
If you’re cis and Christian, this is your work
Cis Christians (and I’m including myself in this): Trans Day of Remembrance is not a time for us to perform grief and then go back to business as usual.
It’s a time to take responsibility.
Here’s what that looks like in real life:
- Tell the truth in your own circles
Stop softening it. Say out loud:- “Anti-trans theology kills.”
- “Misgendering people is abuse, not a difference of opinion.”
- “You can’t follow Jesus and vote away someone’s right to exist.”
- Stop platforming harm
Don’t invite speakers, authors, or musicians into your spaces who traffic in anti-trans rhetoric, even if you “like their worship style” or “agree with them on other things.” There is no “but they’re solid on everything else” when people’s lives are on the line. - Change the policies, not just the vibes
- Make your bathrooms and facilities actually usable for trans folks.
- Update membership, leadership, hiring, and childcare policies to be explicitly inclusive.
- Build grievance processes that take trans people seriously when they’re harmed.
- Put money where your mouth is
Support trans-led organizations, especially those led by Black and Brown trans folks. Fund housing, legal defense, health access, and mental health work. Don’t just pray for protection; help pay for it. - Keep learning without demanding free labor
Read books. Listen to podcasts. Follow trans theologians, pastors, and organizers. Pay them for their work. Don’t expect the one trans person you know to be your unpaid tutor.
If you’re trans, non-binary, or questioning
If you’re reading this as a trans person, non-binary person, or somebody still sorting their gender out, let me say this plainly:
The church’s failure is not your fault.
The violence is not your fault.
The shame is not your fault.
You should never have had to choose between your safety and your faith. You should never have had to fight for basic recognition in places that claim to preach love. You should never have had your body or your pronouns treated like a theological exam.
Whatever you decide to do with church, with Jesus, with faith communities going forward — protect your life. Protect your sanity. Your survival is not selfish. It is sacred.
You deserve more than remembrance. You deserve joy, ordinary days, boring errands, love, community, and rest.
So what do we do with this day?
Trans Day of Remembrance is not a liturgical decoration we slap on the calendar to feel woke and sad.
It’s a yearly alarm.
- If churches keep preaching anti-trans garbage, we will keep adding names.
- If “moderate” Christians keep choosing comfort over solidarity, we will keep adding names.
- If we treat pronouns and bathrooms as theological debates instead of basic hospitality, we will keep adding names.
We do not need more shocked statements. We need confession, repair, and change.
So yes, read the names. Light the candles. Grieve.
And then, in the name of honesty and in the name of God:
Take the scalpel to the theology, the policies, and the habits that got us here.
If Trans Day of Remembrance doesn’t change us, then all we’ve done is hold a nicer-looking wake for a violence we secretly plan to keep tolerating.
The church helped build this. The church can help dismantle it.
But only if we stop pretending our hands are clean.
BEN DUBOW 
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