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Lessons For Others Like Me

Recently, another transwoman blogged about how “coming out” is tearing her apart. How every passing day as “him” becomes more and more painful yet she is afraid to move forward fearful of the losses that may come. This blog entry is for her and every other trans person like her.

I went through what you have. I dressed secretly, went out as myself when my spouse was away on trips. Dressed at home as “me”. I purged wigs and clothing multiple times, swearing “never again” but to no avail.

I did this for decades. Decades. My marriage suffered for it as there were long periods in which I simply could not function as a male. My spouse knew something was wrong but she never confronted me about it except to ask once, years ago, if I was having an affair. I was not, of course, so denied that but offered her no further insights at that time.

This roller coaster went on for years and years and years. My gender dysphoria would build, drive me into dark depressions, then I’d grasp at some straw to distract me and lift me out. And then in 2010 came the worst dysphoria episode of all.

It ate at me, tore at me, and would not let go. And I continued to resist like a damned fool. My life became darker and darker and darker. I began to plot my own death. I was plotting because a plain suicide would have denied her life insurance benefits. Instead, I was plotting to smash my sports car into a concrete bridge abutment at 130 mph or better. Everyone knew I drove fast. Mr. Macho Car Lover! Part of my facade to ensure I looked “male enough” to the world! This wouldn’t be a surprise at all, just that somehow he lost control and… over. Done. Later, when she discovered this plan, she was utterly horrified because it became plain to her exactly how serious I was about this.

It was while driving the roads late one evening, looking for the perfect place to have my “accident” that I realized I didn’t really want to die. That was where I realized that I wanted to live but didn’t know how and so instead I reached out and fortunately found one of the better and more experienced therapists who deals with transgender issues in this city.

I poured out my soul to her that first session, crying, expressing myself, my wants, my fears. She ended that session with the admonition that the first thing I had to do was to stop lying, mostly to myself, and admit who I am.

That was in March 2012. Months of therapy later, every week for the first several months, I began cross gender hormone treatment, in September 2012.

The most important lesson I learned in this was that how others react to me is their choice and that anyone who refuses to accept me as me was never a friend or someone truly trustworthy in the first place. If someone rejects me because of a truth about me, they never really loved me nor were truly friends to me in the first place. I was only accepted because I towed a particular line for that person, not because of any truth about myself.

Some spouses are able to accept this knowledge. Some are not. But torturing yourself for the rest of your life to remain in a marriage that drives you to the pits of despair and the edge of suicide is not healthy. It’s not even rational. Love would not torture another person. Love would not condemn them to darkness and thoughts of death being preferable to life.

I told my spouse. She declared this unacceptable. She’s going back to school and in a few years we will divorce. We live in separate rooms in the same house for now as this makes more financial sense than just splitting at the present. I have lost her, in all but name, and will lose her in name eventually too. Her entire family condemns me. Both my adult sons no longer speak to me nor allow me to see their children. One of my brothers refuses to accept this.

I have found love and support from two of my brothers, my sister, my daughter, my daughter’s husband, my daughter’s children, and numerous friends who have become my “spiritual family” including three very special women who have stepped forward as my “soul sisters” slowly guiding my journey into womanhood.

I have tried my best to never be accusatory to those who refuse to accept. Through tears and pain, I leave all those doors open, on the off chance that someone may change. It’s not an assumption that they will, just a hope that a few of them might.

In the meanwhile, I continue to move forward with my transition. And despite these losses, the gains of love and friendship I’ve made have helped offset those and helped me endure. I am, for the first time in my life, actually happy with myself, rather than simply distracted by some externality in my life.

I’ve said this before, but only you can determine whether you can accept the changes that will inevitably come from being true to yourself. But let me warn you that trying to hide from this is a path into darkness, a path into nothingness. And the end of that path does no one any good. Not you. Not your spouse. Not your children. Not your friends. Not your siblings. No one.  As another friend reminded me, suicide doesn’t solve anything at all and in fact permanently scars those left behind in ugly harsh ways. If you reach the point of considering suicide, it might end your pain but instead will burden all those around you for the rest of their lives. Is that what you really want to accomplish?

To borrow a phrase, don’t go down that road. You know where it ends and you don’t want to be there. Whatever road you take, don’t take the road into darkness. If the choice is darkness or yourself, choose yourself. Anyone who can’t accept that wasn’t meant to be in your life anyway.

Transphobia in Texas – Some Thoughts

This post summarizes thoughts I’d started to write as a forum post elsewhere but which I decided to not post, since there are some trans people on that site who are argumentative and who insist that transphobia and discrimination are rare things. Rather than argue with people who are trying to directly deny my own life experiences, I thought I’d summarize some of them here. The short story is that discrimination and bigotry are real in Texas but depend a lot on exactly where you live and how liberal or conservative that area actually is. Below are my thoughts on the matter.

Texas is a bit unusual. Inside the major cities, there’s a lot more acceptance of trans folk and of GLBT people generally. Outside the major cities, it varies, but in general, the more rural you get, the less acceptance there is, and there is even occasionally often open hostility, discrimination, etc. Navigating the Texas legal system just to do a name change can leave one facing appeals and moving up the court hierarchy if the wrong judge decides to invoke the ultra-conservative Christian “God” card against you and even after those legal changes have been made (which are even authorized in state law), judges can rule against that without any seeming repercussions. See the Nikki Araguz case for an example of where a judge simply ignored state law because the plaintiff’s lawyers claimed “the Bible says so”. Worse, these bigots end up giving a bad name to those good Christians who do work with the poor, who accept GLBT persons, etc.

In my experience, which has been confirmed with talks with many other Texas transwomen, the more someone loudly proclaims their evangelical “born again” status, the more likely that person will be openly rude to and critical of you if they realize that you are transgender and in transition or have transitioned. Unfortunately, enough of these sort of people hold political office in Texas that it can be problematic for transgender people. However, the political tide may be turning against the far right in Texas as urban areas total population begins to outstrip rural areas. As those demographics shift, so might the balance of political power.

One of my local trans acquaintances once posted to Facebook a photo of a map of Houston that she’d marked up. She’d drawn a ring around beltway 610, which is what is considered “inside” the city even though Houston city limits extend well beyond I-610. She labeled that “The Shire”. Then, in the surrounding bedroom communities, she labeled them as “orcs”, “trolls”, “here be dragons”, etc. We laughed about it but it spoke to a truth that many of us Texas TG folk have experienced – direct face to face cruelty, from people who you thought were otherwise decent people.

When I came out, someone with whom I’d been friends for many years ranted on Facebook about “she-male perverts” but didn’t name me directly. But given that he’d just found out a few days before, and that thereafter he no longer discussed things with me but instead talked down at me and even yelled at me face to face, I’m 99.99% certain that rant was directed at me. Another who found out and who used to thank me for mentoring him on complex programming topics suddenly thought I should be fired for being a “pervert”. No, he would not listen to any attempt to explain things, nor even consider any references. “Yer a sinner, by gawd, and goin’ ta hell!” Thankfully we no longer worked at the same companies.

My own son, who married into an ultra conservative Southern Baptist clan refuses to let me see my grandchildren. Once, when discussing this, I said, you can’t protect your daughter forever. In just a few more years she can come seek me out of her own free will. His response? A venomous “I’ll make sure she understands about people like you before then!” His position is that any trans person should be legally required to identify themselves as trans as soon as you meet anyone, even in the most casual settings, so that person can refuse you service or to interact with you. In other words, open bigotry defined by law is what he and others want. I asked him if he meant I should be required to identify as trans when I order a burger at McDonalds and he said yes, so they can choose to refuse to serve me if they wish.

Those who claim that discrimination and hatred are rare things haven’t walked in my shoes. You’ve not had a son rant at you for 5 solid minutes where every third word was God, every other third word was fuck, and the remaining third words were incoherent babble. You’ve not accidentally bumped into your son with his family and watched your granddaughter run to your arms saying “I missed you!” only to have her torn away and dragged out of the restaurant by her mother, a look of shock and sadness on her face. You’ve not worked with homeless trans kids, only to see one choose suicide versus a state Child Protective Service that was determined to force him to live as a girl. You’ve not spent time with trans sisters who are suddenly fired and homeless. You’ve not seen a local pharmacist openly snarl at you for a prescription (yes, I changed pharmacies).

Discrimination and bigotry have been very real experiences in my world and I’ve only been transitioning for a bit over a year now. The tales that some of those who transitioned years ago here in Texas could tell might make your hair curl. I am very fortunate to work for a non-American company that has a “zero tolerance” policy against harassment and discrimination of GLBT persons and that has gender identity explicitly included in corporate policies. Many of the large and mid-size oil and gas companies in Houston also do, but many of the banks and other corporations do not yet so employment is a huge minefield since the US has not yet passed ENDA. A recent HUD housing discrimination case was here in Texas.

By the same token, some of the most accepting people of my trans status have been Hispanic Catholics. My daughter married into such a family and her father-in-law’s reaction to this news about me was that “people deserve to be happy”. Each time I’ve seen him, he’s been accepting thus far as has been his wife and my son-in-law’s sisters.

While the white, evangelical “Christian” bigots may be a minority, they are a loud minority and can and will try to make anyone with whom they disagree miserable if they can. Of course, they invoke God as the basis for their bigotry so trying to persuade them is just about impossible.

No, I do not urge any trans folk to come to Texas unless you are willing to live inside the cities and do your homework about the companies for which you wish to work. There are some amazing opportunities here with the right companies and if you stay in your “ghetto” (inside the city in Houston, Austin, San Antonio, and Dallas-Fort Worth) and away from the lily-white evangelical suburbs. Fortunately, living inside the major cities is a great thing and all of Texas’ major cities are enjoying a renewal of sorts as well.

And the more fully you pass, the more likely you can slip by stealth and not even be detected since most of these same people assume all transwomen are ugly “men in a dress” caricatures. My own son had no idea who that woman was when he saw me in a photo in a dress with some friends. When told that the woman in question is also a gamer, he thought that was “cool” and said he’d like to meet her. My friend said that wouldn’t be likely since “Liz” only rarely “came to town” and dropped the topic. My son has actually bumped into a number of transwomen that I now know and he simply does not know, yet he insists that he can spot any “tranny” a mile a way. I’ve not disabused him of his illusions as he won’t listen to me at all anymore anyway.

This is the reality of my experience thus far in Texas and my experience is far from unique, as many other trans folk I know have told. For others to tell me that my experience is “wrong” or that their experience of acceptance trumps mine is the height of hypocrisy. I can and will state that bigotry against trans folk is a very real issue, at least here in Texas. For those who live in locations where that’s not the case, I’m very happy for you but to argue that trans people don’t need legal protections is to argue against the reality that many of us have experienced. And mind you, my experience has been positively mild compared to some I have met.

Oh, and every single person who’s discriminated against me and others I’ve met? A Tea Party Republican type. Every single time. Maybe not every Tea Party person is a transphobic bigot but every transphobic bigot I’ve encountered thus far has been a Tea Party person. And I’m not alone in that experience.

Thoughts about Veteran’s Day

I joined the Army years ago for two reasons. The first was for a job as a newly married 19 year old but the second was because the military was supposed to “make a man” out of me. It didn’t, of course, though I learned many things there. As much as I wish I had transitioned at a younger age, due to my upbringing and due to the culture of the time, I simply was not mentally ready. Joining the army took me to West Germany, a nation that doesn’t even exist anymore (there’s just one Germany now). In Germany I began to question all the things I’d been taught about gender, sexuality, and myself.

The army didn’t break down my walls but it began the process of destroying the mortar of the bigotry that held me in fear. It would take a great deal more to break down those walls but it began with the US Army. And so, in truth, the Army began the process whereby I was eventually able to see the woman within, and am now coming to grips with.

I honestly wish that things had been different, that I had been better informed, less brainwashed, and living in a culture that was more accepting. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is draw lessons from it, live today, and look forward to tomorrow.

One thing to remember though, is that lots of transgender people go the military route. A new study shows that military vets are twice as likely to be transgender as the general population. (The actual report can be found here.) That’s a remarkably high number! And Veterans Affairs has had protocols in place for dealing with transgender veterans, which they continue to develop and refine.

Many of my trans friends are veterans. And very publicly visible, this last year Kristin Beck, who spent 20 years as a Navy SEAL and participated in the raid that got Osama Bin Laden, retired and began her transition.

So while I have a special place in my heart for the military and for veterans generally, there’s another whole place just for transgender veterans. While each of our stories is unique, I wonder how many of us began the process of truly questioning yourself because of your time in the military? That might even be a good book to write someday.

What a weekend!

I went to our local Renaissance Festival this weekend with a bunch of friends to whom I am already “out”. Getting there, one of my spiritual sisters, one of three women who have been there for me throughout, immediately started by disagreeing with me at dinner. What was she disagreeing about? In my own assessment (we’re our own worst critics, aren’t we?) I told her that while I was in in the gender “twilight zone” that I thought I was still more male than female. “Wrong,” she said, and insisted so. So she made a contest out of proving me wrong too.

I had already told her I had planned on “just being me” for the duration of the fest, whatever that meant. I was going to use my voice with male resonance suppressed, but I can’t raise pitch much because of that paralyzed vocal cord. I wasn’t going to overdress female, or focus on makeup, or anything else. I was going to let me hair hang out (it’s long except for the male pattern baldness areas on top), wear my silver stud earrings, wear a feminine hat, wear feminine jeans and either feminine or gender neutral tops. I also ended up wearing a white woman’s sweater both days as it was cool but not cold out.

Net result? Saturday I was not once gendered male and I was gendered female 5 times. Now this was with no facial makeup whatever to cover beard shadow. But I have to admit that the longer I am on HRT, the lighter the facial hairs are becoming. They’re not gone, just lighter in color. Anyway, in a crowd of 10 people, I was gendered female multiple times.

Then came Sunday. Sunday morning I decided to swap to my silver hoop earrings and wear a neutral lipstick but still no other makeup. Saturday I’d gone au naturelle under a gender neutral t-shirt but Sunday I wore my bra as Saturday turned out to be more abrasive that I’d expected! (Lesson learned!)

So what happened Sunday? On Sunday, she and I went shopping, just the two of us, and I was gendered female 12 times by 2pm, at which point we rejoined the larger group. And I used the women’s restroom for the first time. My friend was right about that too – no one noticed and no one cared.

Suddenly I’m feeling a lot more optimistic about being able to target full time in the July-September 2014 time frame as I’ve been planning. Oh, and when I relay this story to my therapist, she is just going to laugh and laugh at me. 🙂

A Pleasant Surprise in October

I’m moving through my transition at a nice slow pace, which has been deliberate for a number of reasons. I’m still targeting next summer to go fulltime, partly because of all the wackiness my endo and I have been through with my t-levels, partly due to finances, and partly for other various reasons. So I’m happy at the progress I am making, slow though it may be at times. And I simply was not seeing myself as female on some days though on others, I definitely get that feeling.

Anyway, my spouse and I went to lunch at this tiny Italian place. I was wearing a compression shirt that is beginning to fail at the task assigned to it, a very loose t-shirt, a pair of women’s jeans, my favorite feminine black cap, and of course earrings that aren’t too loudly female. My hair is shoulder length and tied back in a pony tale and the cap hides the male pattern baldness problem on top when I’m not wearing a wig. I’ve taken to shaving with a new razor lately, a three bladed razor instead of the old dual and it really has been giving me a nice close shave so the beard is less visible plus I think the higher estrogen dosage my endo prescribed last month is having a small effect on the facial hair too. (E3000 appointment in 2 more months!)

So there we are in the Italian restaurant. I admit it was a wee bit dark and after the waiter takes my spouse’s order, I get “And you, ma’am?” I don’t blink but instead I place my order. I’ve been working on using my voice with male resonance minimized, which raises the pitch a bit, though not sufficiently for my taste, due to that darned paralyzed vocal cord, and he doesn’t bat an eye. He walks off and I grin. My spouse looks at me funny, and I say, “I think I just mis-heard the waiter.” She says, “No you didn’t. He said ma’am when talking to you.” He comes back, brings our iced teas, and says, “Your orders will be out shortly, ladies.”

Needless to say, I was grinning ear to ear. I did not expect that quite yet! Even being rationally fully aware that I need to be accepting of myself first and foremost, there’s a small sense of satisfaction when someone else sees you as you wish to be seen.

As a side note for seeing what we want to see, my youngest son, despite knowing that I am trans, upon seeing my hair back in a ponytail and the earrings said I should “grow a goatee” to complete the “biker” look. It’s interesting to see how expectations form opinions versus the absence thereof. Exact same visual image – my son sees a male “biker” and a waiter who doesn’t know me sees a woman. Overcoming first impressions can take more work than making good first impressions. Food for thought. 🙂