— ILI Director Lucinda Garthwaite

“I’ve typed this message 3 or 4 times. I really don’t know how to bring this up.”

So began a text exchange between a friend of  mine, a professor of Gender Studies, and their student this past Sunday. For this student, a committed Catholic, it was also Easter.

His text to my friend began with a  screenshot of President Biden’s “Proclamation on Transgender Day of Visibility, 2024”, which begins, “We honor the extraordinary courage and contributions of transgender Americans ...”

Under the screenshot, the student texted, “I’m disgusted.”

My colleague responded, “I’m curious. Can you tell me, please, why this is offensive to you?” adding, “and how did your presentation go last week?”

“It went great, thanks, and thanks for your help with it” he texted back. Then he answered her question: This is the holiest week of the year for Catholics, he said. There are far many more Christians than trans people in this country. They get plenty of holidays and events, we should have this one, this holiest day, to ourselves. It feels like an attack on Christians. And another thing, why wouldn’t the President allow religious art on the eggs at the White House Easter Egg roll?

My colleague responded, “Hmm, Biden is a devoted Catholic. It would be good to dig into this.”  Student: “Yes, what is he thinking?  Do you know why he brought this out now?”

My friend explained that Transgender Day of Visibility had been recognized internationally since 2009, and that President Biden had recognized the day also in prior years, when Easter had fallen on different dates.  “Just exploring the variables here,” my friend wrote, adding “the trans community may be tiny, but the discrimination, hate, murder and suicide rates are extremely high.”

“Ok,”  the student wrote, “No one should have to live like that. I can understand that and I don’t want to hurt people. At the end of the day we live in a free country and they can think how they want just as I can think how I want.”

They didn’t answer all his questions, but that conversation could have ended very differently. The reason it didn’t, in my view, is earnest curiosity.

I particularly like this understanding of the word earnest from business writer Paul Graham, “When you call someone earnest,” he writes,  “you're making a statement about their motives. It means both that they're doing something for the right reasons, and that they're trying as hard as they can.”

Earnest curiosity is motivated by truly wanting to understand the perspective and experience of the other. In conversations like the one between my friend and their student, earnest curiosity is also trying hard to find ways for both people to thrive as who they are, and who they are becoming.

My friend could have responded with disagreement with that student’s assumptions, with opposing beliefs, or with open fear for the well-being of people who transcend gender.  Any of those would have been, it seems to me, honest and true responses.

But my friend chose wanting to understand, and framed differences as variables rather than corrections. Then, the two of them found their way to the common ground of his right to celebrate a sacred holiday, and the rights of trans folks to live free of hate and violence.

There are other ways and reasons to be curious; for example, to confirm a belief, assuage insecurity or squelch discomfort.  There’s a place for all of these expressions of curiosity, but they’re not motivated by all people thriving. They’re not seeking liberatory change.

The headlines on Easter Sunday and in the few days after were full of arguably cynical accusations that the President had selected Easter to affirm transgender rights, essentially spitting on Christian values.

Not far behind were similar objections to the prohibition of religious arton the eggs at the about the White House Egg Roll. Enter the American Egg Board, which replied through its CEO that the policy is theirs, and has been for 45 years, through administrations of both parties, including the most recent one.

Imagine – I know it's wild to imagine this – if instead of those accusations, someone had thought to ask, “I’m curious.  Why did you proclaim Transgender Visibility Day on Easter? Why is religious artwork not allowed on the eggs in the Easter egg roll?”

What if they’d really wanted to know? Would the answers have made the headlines? Could transgender folks have been spared the backlash that ensued? Could some agreement have been found between concerned Christians and their devoted Catholic President about how to handle this overlap in the future?  Or even about the nature of Christian compassion?

Would my colleague’s student even have noticed the two observations fell on the same day? Would he have thought to care?

Anyone can be earnestly curious. It’s not too hard to practice. It can make a difference in daily life.  Just today, as I was writing this piece, a colleague told me a story of how her earnest curiosity disarmed an aggressive boss, leaving them both the space to thrive. 

Why not try it when the stakes are high in the interest of social change, like when a young man responds to a cynical political move with potentially dangerous anger? My friend said it took about fifteen minutes to go from disgust to we both should be able to thrive.

Earnest curiosity won’t solve all the ills of the world, but it sure took care of a small one this past Easter Sunday. Imagine the change, one conversation at a time, if more people tried it out.