Rev. Grace Ferris has always been deeply involved with church, even before she was ordained in 2015.

“I was a southern Baptist minister," said Ferris, now a priest with the independent Catholic Apostolic Church in North America, which is separate from the Roman, Orthodox or other independent Catholic churches.

She made the switch after coming out of retirement to serve as a chaplain in the military. It was on that mission, she had a dream that would change her life forever. 

“I never remember dreams, but this one I remembered like I had walked out of a movie theater. I saw myself as a female priest," Ferris said.

Grace used to be Gary.  

“We’re born the way God created us. Our minds are different than our bodies, and when you come out as transgender and you take steps to transition, you basically put your mind and body and soul into alignment. But what really angers people is the fact that I’m a priest," Ferris said.

She moved into an independent senior living building and began her transition to Grace at age 62.

“About half of the residents are OK with me, about half of them would prefer that I didn’t live there. Two are downright hostile," Ferris said.

Ferris avoids those neighbors, but says she’s also faced harassing phone calls and death threats from strangers.

Nathaniel Gray has worked with many queer seniors, including Grace. He says what makes this community so unique, is most of them remember the gay rights movement, the Stonewall riots and the AIDS epeidemic. 

“People today may not realize that in this state, we lost over 200,000 people to the HIV-AIDS crisis. That’s a huge loss. That’s a generation that we lost, and anyone we didn’t lose to that was traumatized," says Gray, executive director of the Capital Region Pride Center.

Gray explains the aftermath placed a burden on the generation who lived through it. As a result, the aging queer community is often overlooked, since they’re not as vocal as the younger generations are today.

“We should treat them like family, and we should think about what they’ve been through, because that’s our story, too," Gray said.

Grace’s story is still being written. In addition to her congregation, she ministers hundreds of people in the queer community, in-person and online.

“I’m not the kind to just sit by and keep quiet and try to blend in. I think I owe it to the community of whom I minister to be an activist," Ferris said.

Whether it’s supporting women’s rights, being an ally to communities of color, or standing up for queer people, her activism and passion for equality knows no limits.

“When I talk with somebody who is contemplating the unthinkable, I can say come, let me show you, there’s a better way...that brings me peace," Ferris said.