‘To live, I had to leave’: Trans pastor who fled home state has ‘nightmares’ about Trump’s America

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

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

To mark Trans Awareness Week, which runs until Tuesday (19 November), Lazarus spoke about the harsh realities of being forced to leave their home simply for being trans.

Missouri was listed among the worst US states for LGBTQ+ people last year because of a raft of bills targeting the community. By early 2023, legislators in the conservative Midwest state had proposed 49 bills attacking trans people, with 40 still being tracked by the American Civil Liberties Union.

The proposed laws included policies aimed at forcing the outing of trans school children, bans on gender-affirming care and drag performances, and exemptions to anti-discrimination regulations for those refusing service to transgender men and women.

Despite moving to Oregon, one of the nation’s most LGBTQ-friendly states, Lazarus still encounters discrimination and harassment. 

The journey that led Lazarus to come out was marked by tragedy and faith.

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

Now, living openly as a trans person, Lazarus says they feel more authentic in a life they believe is true to their spiritual calling because they are certain God is “delighted when we come out and live fully, openly and without shame”.

While working with the not-for-profit organisation, Lot’s Wife Trans and Queer Chaplaincy, in St. Louis, Lazarus hoped to help build a community in Missouri. But as anti-trans legislation surged, they found themselves with a new focus.

‘There aren’t that many safer places in the US’

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

However, the issue remains complex. “There aren’t that many safer places in the US,” Lazarus says. “The places we go to aren’t easy, and there was no welcome parade in Oregon. We use the term ‘trans refugee’ for a reason. I’ve found here isn’t always safe either. It’s supposed to be but I don’t feel it.”

The challenges of relocation extend far beyond a lack of safety. “We’ve scattered and fled, hoping for a better life, but it doesn’t necessarily come. We have no community, no resources,” Lazarus points out.

Currently, they are a social worker, a job they love, but they are still fearful 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 reportedly cost nearly $215 million (£169 million). Democrat Sarah McBride, the first out trans person elected to the US congress, has described the adverts as part of wider attempt by the right to “fear-monger and scapegoat”.

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

Despite the sense of loss, they have found community among the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, a not-for-profit group of “drag nuns” dedicated to charity and community outreach, which has helped alleviate some of the loneliness.

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

Their experience reflects broader trends for trans and gender-diverse individuals in the US, many of whom face mental-health challenges in the face of systemic discrimination.

Research 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 trans-masculine, expresses a small but powerful wish for their future, saying: “I want to be old, weirdly hairy, and yelling at kids to get off my lawn.”

Suicide is preventable. Readers who are affected by the issues raised in this story are encouraged to contact Samaritans on 116 123 (www.samaritans.org), or Mind on 0300 123 3393 (www.mind.org.uk). ​Readers in the US are encouraged to contact the National Suicide Prevention Line on 1-800-273-8255.

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