Anyone
attending
a
gay
choral
concert
has
experienced
the
strange
power
of
seeing
a
group
of
gay
men
or
lesbians
singing
together.
Amplify
that
by
about
100
percent,
and
you’ll
get
a
slight
idea
of
what
it
must
be
like
to
hear
Transcendence,
the
transgender
choir
of
San
Francisco
that’s
the
focus
of
the
documentary
“The
Believers.”
Music
soothes
the
savage
beast,
and
in
this
case,
that
beast
is
intolerance.
The
film
opens
with
a
transgender
woman,
Ashley,
listening
to
a
phone
message
from
her
mother,
who
says
she
shouldn’t
“give
[the
filmmakers]
a
screwed
up
background”
during
any
interviews.
It’s
a
perfect
beginning
for
a
film
about
misconceptions,
denial
and
the
need
for
community,
especially
since
Ashley’s
not
just
another
chorus
member
—
she’s
actually
one
of
the
group’s
founders.
She
approached
her
San
Francisco-based
United
Church
of
Christ’s
leaders
about
starting
a
transgender
chorus,
and
they
went
for
it.
The
film
follows
the
group
from
its
early,
off-key
stages
to
its
performances
at
various
venues
(queer
and
otherwise)
and
the
recording
of
an
album.
One
of
the
film’s
selling
points
is
that
it’s
not
a
cheerleading
piece
for
a
remarkable
group
of
people.
There
is
a
definite
journey
and
arc
for
the
chorus
and
the
individuals,
giving
the
documentary
the
feel
of
a
feature
film.
EACH
PERSON’S
PERSONAL
story
is
framed
by
the
group’s
growing
cohesion
and
musical
abilities,
and
the
questions
of
identity
and
community
are
movingly
handled
for
everyone
profiled,
including
Bobbie,
one
of
the
group’s
most
prominent
singers.
Bobbie
is
a
black,
male-to-female
“transgender
person”
(her
words),
who
has
chosen
not
to
undergo
gender
reassignment
surgery
but
lives
full-time
as
a
woman.
She’s
a
recovering
crack
addict,
did
some
time
in
prison
and
is
one
of
the
group’s
strongest
soloists.
For
many
of
the
singers,
vocal
placement
and
hormones
are
a
challenging
cocktail,
with
most
singers
wanting
to
be
the
soprano
they’ve
always
dreamed
of
being
but
not
having
the
physical
voice
for
it.
Bobbie
has
a
killer
“man’s”
voice,
and
when
it
comes
out
of
that
feminized
body,
the
experience
is
unearthly,
exhilarating
and
a
testament
to
the
long
and
hard
road
that
she’s
walked.
Bobbie’s
chorus
mentor,
Miss
Major,
is
a
62-year-old
transgender
woman
who
went
through
shock
therapy
and
institutionalization
during
the
’50s
to
help
her
become
more
“normal.”
DESPITE
THE
DIFFICULTIES
of
their
daily
lives,
the
chorus
members
look
to
the
music
and
the
ministry
of
singing
to
help
heal
themselves
and
their
audiences.
Transcendence
is
made
up
of
both
male-to-female
and
female-to-male
transgender
people,
which
makes
the
squabbles
between
gay
men
and
lesbians
seem
paltry
in
comparison
to
the
ability
of
this
mixed
gender
group
(in
more
ways
than
one)
to
focus
and
get
along.
It’s
not
all
sunshine-and-roses
among
the
singers,
but
the
group
regularly
has
sit-down
sessions
to
discuss
ways
to
address
their
communication
difficulties.
The
chorus’
ways
of
interacting,
working,
listening
and
playing
apply
as
much
to
their
ability
to
sustain
a
functioning
community
as
to
their
music.
After
numerous
rehearsals,
the
chorus’
sound
finally
clicked
(in
the
early
days,
the
non-transgender
conductor
said,
“God,
they
can’t
sing.
How
am
I
gonna
do
this?”).
They
even
performed
at
the
UCC’s
2003
international
synod,
also
testifying
before
a
committee
on
the
necessity
of
including
transgender
inclusive
and
affirming
language
as
part
of
the
church
rhetoric.
(In
a
triumphant
moment
for
the
chorus
and
for
transgender
Christians,
this
measure
did
pass.)
Music
made
inroads
where
regular
speech
failed,
allowing
them
to
become
part
of
a
decision-making
body
that,
because
of
their
voices,
sent
a
landmark
message
to
churches
and
Christians
around
the
world.
Now,
that’s
a
good
tune.
