She used to teach teens being gay is a sin. Now this former pastor is a fierce LGBTQ+ activist.

Former Temecula, California, pastor Rachel Dennis considers her queer daughter, Aubree, her greatest teacher. Aubree has given her the gift of acceptance and has fueled Dennis’s shift over the past few years from intolerant sermonizer to impassioned activist. 

“She was outed to me by other members of the school I was a pastor at in 2018,” she told LGBTQ Nation. Dennis was first told about her then-10-year-old daughter’s identity by church members, and then again by the school’s principal a few years later.

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At 14 years old, Aubree attempted to take her own life, which Dennis said inspired her to challenge the anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric she had been pressured to preach to the teens at her school. 

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Growing up, Dennis’s parents were heavily involved in the Southern Baptist church, taught at the institution she attended, and pushed her to uphold traditional standards, such as avoiding secular music. 

There were moments when Dennis pushed back. “I remember I had a Duran Duran CD that my mother took away from me. When we went to the grocery store, a song from it started playing through the speakers. I looked at her and said, ‘This is the music you took from me.’” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, especially given that it was moments like this that brought into perspective the need to change how she lived her life in her faith. 

But it wasn’t until adulthood that she would begin to take note of how her beliefs shaped her relationships with the people around her, particularly members of the LGBTQ+ community. In her twenties, she left the church and began raising her daughter, Courtney, as a single mom. The only men in her life were two gay men she’d befriended. “They helped me raise her,” she said, admitting that she never genuinely viewed homosexuality as wrong. 

“I believed it because I was convinced I had to.”

But when she married her husband in December of 1997, she felt obligated to go back to the church to create a model for her family. “I’ve taken my husband on a roller coaster,” she laughed, adding that he was “relieved” when they left the church again. 

The decision to rejoin the church was her own and something she says she was ill-equipped for. At the time, one of the gay men who helped raise Courtney asked Dennis flat out if she believed his marriage to his partner was wrong. She looked at him and said, “It’s a sin, but I still love you.” As a result, he cut her out of his life.

“I don’t blame him,” she said. 

Since then, she has grown exponentially and now interacts with the queer community in ways she never thought possible. One person in particular, Love Bailey, has been instrumental. 

Bailey is a trans woman who owns Savage Ranch in Temecula. “It’s a wonderful place. It’s somewhere people can be free,” Dennis said. “She fully accepted me and my past, and I’m very grateful.” 

Friendships like this inspired Dennis to ramp up her activism. She has continued to do so despite other pastors, like Tim Thompson of 412 Church, who have called on her to be silent.

“I started attending schools he would be at with donuts,” she said. At these schools, she’d speak words of affirmation to LGBTQ+ students and dispense information about the Trevor Project, which supports LGBTQ+ youth going through mental health crises. 

“Jesus calls for us to go where people need help,” she said.

In spite of backlash from people like Thompson, she has had success. She has a relationship with conservative Temecula city council member Brenden Kalfus, who she says has been very open to hearing different perspectives. “He’s here to truly represent Temecula. When you talk to people, you get to see that some of their ideas are rooted in fear.”

While some people are capable of changing their minds, others have demonstrated to her that change isn’t always possible, even within your own family. Dennis had to learn this the hard way with her parents. “On my father’s deathbed, he still was afraid of going to hell. He was a good man, and the idea that he believed that his acceptance into heaven was conditional hurt me to see.” 

The experience motivated Dennis to work to consciously break generational trauma, as evident in her love for Aubree and her other children. Dennis has acknowledged that fear was stopping her from achieving her full potential to accept LGBTQ+ people. But today, she and her family have moved past the fear together. Fighting it, she emphasized, is the only way to live a full life. 

“Live in your truth,” she said. “It’s the only thing you have.” 

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat at 988lifeline.org. The Trans Lifeline (1-877-565-8860) is staffed by trans people and will not contact law enforcement. The Trevor Project provides a safe, judgement-free place to talk for youth via chat, text (678-678), or phone (1-866-488-7386). Help is available at all three resources in English and Spanish.

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