As a trans man, I know how wonderful Pope Francis was

As Pope Francis shook my hand for a second time and said ‘God bless you’, all I could think was: ‘Wow’.

It was October last year and I was sitting beside three other transgender men. We had been brought along by a priest renowned for ministering to transwomen in Italy and who regularly took transgender Catholics to meet the Pope.

After his papal audience, he was brought to where we were sitting and paused briefly, before shaking everyone’s hand and listening to what we had to say.

When he got to me, I passed him a copy of a book I had recently contributed to called Trans Life and the Catholic Church Today. A translator explained that we had all written letters, which were inside.

When he shook my hand a second time, I was left shaking.

I couldn’t believe it – I received a blessing from the Holy Father as an openly transgender man. This was truly a moment which affirmed my human dignity – something people like me do not always feel from the Church.

I am a transgender teacher of Religious Education at St Paul’s Catholic School in Leicester. It is the same school I attended as a child and was baptised in at the age of 16.

I later came out as trans around the age of 23 and had a very difficult time navigating my identity as someone who was both LGBT+ and a person of faith.

But over time, I found great solace, and it was due to Pope Francis and his commitment to welcome.

He was undoubtedly the most progressive pope we’ve had, having said being gay is ‘not a crime’, denouncing the criminalisation of homosexuality, condemning discrimination against LGBTQ+ people, and regularly meeting with members of our community – myself included.

He encouraged parents to love their LGBTQ+ children and called being gay a ‘human fact’.

So when I heard the news that Pope Francis had died, a large part of me was fearful for what comes next for people like me.

I spent the day reading through various tributes struggling to find the words myself to explain just how much his papacy had meant to me and others like me.

I was inundated with messages from other Catholics, people of other faiths and none. One of them was a friend who is Catholic and a lesbian – she told me that his love helped her to feel ready to marry her wife.

I saw a video of a friend of mine, a gay Anglican priest who tolled the bell in his Church 88 times by hand as a sign of respect for Pope Francis.

A straight Catholic chaplain in a secondary school posted about how she knows so much about the person of Jesus because of the inspired way Pope Francis delivered his ministry.

An agnostic friend of mine reached out to me in the evening and asked if he could share my photo of Pope Francis with a message. He told me he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of Pope Francis, because he had acknowledged and welcomed LGBTQ+ people.

That’s not to say Pope Francis was perfect in his treatment of my community. He opposed marriage equality, and most notably for me, a letter in 2024 – Dignitas Infinita – suggested that ‘sex-change intervention as a rule risks threatening a person’s unique dignity’.

This was particularly difficult for many people like myself – a trans man – to come to terms with that.

In a response to criticism of this aspect of the document, Pope Francis described gender theory as an ‘ugly ideology of our time’ – but while he rejected the ideology of what the Church calls gender theory, he publicly affirmed that trans people can be baptised and serve as a godparent.

This was, again, another call of pastoral welcome which highlighted that we do belong in our universal Church.

He forged a new path for the papacy, and I can only hope his successor is equally accepting of LGBTQ+ Catholics and people across the world.

My parents are not Catholics and had been away over Easter, but when they returned, I found my mum watching the video of his final blessing on Easter Sunday. She asked what he was saying and so I began to read the quote out in English.

As I was reading this final message about reviving our trust in others who are different from ourselves, I broke down into unexpected tears and I was greeted by a hug from my non-religious mother and my Jewish housemate.

The effects of his papacy have transcended the boundaries of faith and truly focused on humanity, which is why many are mourning the loss of this wonderful man.