Blowing up group roleplay in class

So, last week, I blew up my social work class on group dynamics.

Professor had us form a circle, and appointed one woman to bring a personal problem to share with the group, and another to manage the group. The scenario: the first woman has a son who has recently come out transgender and wants to use feminine pronouns.

Eva, the facilitator, has been in other classes with me and has shared that she enjoys the realism I bring to roleplay.

Oh honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.

Eva starts the group, and reminds us of the ground rules. Be respectful, keep group discussions confidential, don’t be judgmental, yada yada yada.

“Who wants to share?” she asks.

Anna unloads her burden.

“My son recently announced that he thinks he’s a girl and wants us to use feminine pronouns for him,” she said. “This goes entirely against our Christian beliefs, and –”

My hand shoots up. Anna falters, unsure what to do. Eva maintains order.

“Dave, please put your hand down. Wait until she’s finished.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” Anna says. “I don’t understand where we went wrong.”

She’s finished. I’m just getting started.

“Excuse me,” I ask her. “Do you even Bible?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I say, my voice rising, “do you even read your Bible before you decide what you think it says? There is nowhere in the Scriptures, Hebrew or Greek, that justifies your position.”

“That’s just how it is,” Anna insists. I think she’s a little surprised — I think the entire class is, and later the professor will admit that he was too — by my appeal to Scripture in defending trans rights. “God makes you a boy, and you’re a boy; and if God makes you a girl –”

“Your daughter needs your support –” My voice is rising now.

“Excuse me, my SON is –” So is hers.

“I think your DAUGHTER has a better understanding of who she is than you do.” I’m at full-throttle now. I haven’t been this into a part since I played one of the townsfolk during the revival service in “Inherit the Wind” and everyone who had never been a Pentecostal either got out of my way, imitated my behaviors, or got annoyed because the only one filling the stage more was the preacher.

“Let me step in a moment here,” the professor says. He is clearly loving this turn of events. “Eva, how do you feel right now?”

“I feel like I’ve lost control of the group,” Eva admits.

We resume.

“Dave,” Eva says reasonably, “we’re here to be supportive of one another, not to yell , and –”

“And what?” I turn on her. “LGBTQ children who don’t get the support of their parents are at a heightened risk of drug abuse, homelessness and suicidal ideation. Is that what we’re after? Is that what we support here?”

“Yes,” Eva stammers. “No!”

“You know what?” Anna says. “I’m leaving. I was hoping for support, but it’s obvious I’m not going to get any here.”

“Good riddance,” I nearly say, but the professor cuts me off and for the next 20 minutes the entire class discusses how to handle disruptive group members. Suggestions range from “eject him if he won’t settle down” to (my favorite) “find out why he’s so upset, this is obviously something personal for him.”

It’s a lot of fun throwing yourself into a role like that. It’s like the time I played the king during “The Frog Prince.” I got to summon people by clapping my hands, and turned the entire cast against the king’s son-in-law, including the actor playing him, because I decided the character was annoying.

“Too much?” I asked the professor as I left class.

“No!’ he said. “That was great!”

I’m waiting for the next group session roleplay. Kid, you ain’t seen nothing yet.