A truth to be embraced, not a problem to be solved

Gender diversity has become intensely political. But fearmongering about school bathrooms and attempts to restrict inclusive education aren’t just policy disagreements, writes Rev Dr Nāsili Vaka‘uta — they’re attacks on people’s lives.

 

Not long ago, someone asked me: “What’s political about gender?” The question was sincere. But the answer, for many of us, is painfully clear: Everything.

To be gender diverse in Aotearoa today is to live with your existence debated in parliament, dissected in church sermons, and denied in everyday spaces like classrooms, clinics, and even family homes. It’s to be told — sometimes gently, sometimes violently — that who you are is a problem, a phase, a controversy, or a danger.

It’s also to resist all of that, just by being. It’s to stand tall in your truth when everything around you insists that you shrink.

This piece is not about abstract policies. It’s about people. It’s about those among us — our children, our siblings, our neighbours — who are trans, non-binary, takatāpui, fakaleitī, fa‘afafine, intersex, queer. It’s about their right to be seen, to be safe, and to be sovereign over their bodies and stories.

In the last few years, gender has become a political football. Political parties like New Zealand First and certain conservative voices have framed gender diversity as a threat to “traditional values” and “common sense”. From fearmongering about school bathrooms to attempts at restricting inclusive education, these efforts aren’t just policy disagreements — they’re attacks on people’s lives.

We now have data that tells us what we already knew in our communities. The 2025 Counting Ourselves survey, Aotearoa’s largest study of trans and non-binary people, paints a sobering picture. More than two-thirds of participants reported experiencing discrimination in healthcare settings. Nearly half had considered suicide in the past year.

The most common reasons? Rejection, isolation, and systemic ignorance.

The message they’ve received is cruelly consistent: “You’re not welcome, not wanted, not real.”

But the message from those of us who stand with them must be louder: “You are not the problem. You are the gift. The struggle is not with your identity. It’s with a society that refuses to honour it.”

As a Tongan, I’ve watched with deep concern as some Pacific churches, my own included, struggle to reckon with gender diversity. Many of us inherited a version of faith that came dressed in colonial clothing: patriarchal, binary, and controlling. We were told there were only two genders, only one kind of family, and only one holy way to love.

But this isn’t our full story.

In Tonga, fakaleitī have long been part of community life. In Sāmoa, fa‘afafine were respected as carers and cultural bearers. Across the Pacific, gender diversity was recognised and named, not as deviance but as difference. Not as disorder but as divine variety. It was colonialism, not culture, that taught us to be ashamed.

Gender is not a problem to be solved but a truth to be embraced — and it’s time we honoured that truth.

Some churches say they welcome everyone. But if your welcome ends where someone’s gender begins, it’s not a welcome — it’s spiritual gaslighting. Love without justice is just sentimentality. And faith that can’t affirm the fullness of who people are is not liberation — it’s control.

As a person of faith, I don’t believe God is threatened by gender diversity. I believe God is reflected in it. The Bible I read says: “I am who I am” (Exodus 3:14) — a divine affirmation of presence and personhood. It doesn’t say: “I am who others say I must be.” And we shouldn’t either.

To my fellow faith leaders: It’s not enough to say that we “accept” gender diverse people. Acceptance suggests hierarchy, like we’re granting permission for others to exist. We must move from acceptance to affirmation, from silence to solidarity, from tolerance to transformation.

To our political leaders: Stop using gender diverse people as scapegoats. Start listening, resourcing, and protecting.

To our communities: Create spaces where children can grow into who they are, not who they’re told to be.

To our churches: Preach love that liberates, not doctrine that disciplines difference.

And to every gender diverse person reading this: You don’t have to earn your place. You are enough. You are seen. You are loved. You are sacred. Your identity is not up for debate. Your truth is not a trend. And your existence is not a problem — it is a prayer answered. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

In a time when political games threaten sacred lives, let our response be clear, collective, and courageous: “You don’t get to decide who I am. I am who I am.”

 

Reverend Professor Nāsili Vaka‘uta is a Tongan scholar of the Bible and religion, and a Methodist faifekau based in Tāmaki Makaurau. He is the principal of Trinity Theological College and director of the Centre for Advocacy, Research & Empowerment (CARE). His work focuses on justice, gender, Oceanic hermeneutics, and the wellbeing of Pacific communities. The views expressed here are his own and do not reflect the official position of Trinity College.

This piece is an offshoot of an ongoing survey funded by the Methodist Church of New Zealand on the “Experiences of Gender and Sexuality Diverse Individuals in Pacific Lotu Spaces in Aotearoa.”  This is a preliminary study for a larger project: “Que(e)rying Lotu: Safeguarding Gender and Sexuality Diverse Individuals in Pacific Religious Spaces.”  If you want to participate in the survey because your voice matters click here.

E-Tangata, 2025