Epiphany of Love, And Why I Cannot Shun

To explain the title of this post, I have to go back to 2001, Christmas Eve. My family was in church, waiting for Mass to begin, everyone was feeling happy, expectant, faithful. Something happened to me then, the world melted away and I was. . . elsewhere. I was aware of the church and the congregation, but I was on another plane. I was in a place of intense light, brighter than anything I've ever experienced, yet it didn't hurt and I felt no need to squint or shield my eyes. More significant than the light though, far more, was the love. I was in the presence of countless legions of souls, filled to the brim with love. I knew I was seeing heaven. I also knew the reason I couldn't stay was that I wasn't ready, that my poor, feeble, human heart couldn't hold that much love without bursting (it did, in fact, hurt). When the time right, the soul is purified and only then can it handle the intense love of heaven.

There was God, there were infinite souls, and there was love ~ love beyond anything we are capable of imagining. I saw, I understood, and then I was back. It was a simple half-second epiphany.

So, that's heaven. Love. Just love. NO H8. No judgement. No segregation. No gay. No straight. No gender. Love. Lots of souls, but not gender or orientation ~ I assume there is no longer any need for any of that.

And that brings us to today. Jesus never preached hate. He told us the greatest commandment is love. He told us to love one another. He didn't say hate. He did, quite specifically, tell us not to judge. It seems fitting to make love the topic at hand for His birthday.

There are those (blessedly, my kith & kin are supportive) who would shun transfolk. I understand cutting off your drug-addicted daughter who refuses to go to treatment, by not enabling her, you would actually help her. I understand refusing to allow your pedophiliac parent access to your life and even trying to get his ass thrown in jail  (in fact, I'd strongly encourage it). I understand eschewing the looney tune aunt who wants you to attend her goldfish's Bar Mitzvah ~ although I really think you should keep an eye on her and make sure she stays safe. I cannot however, under any circumstances, condone shunning someone for being transgender. There are people who claim that it is sinful to be transgender, that transfolk are evil and sinful. I'd like to suggest they read Matthew 7:1 and John 13:34. These are my two favorite Bible verses ~ reading them makes me a better Christian. Jesus consorted with hookers & tax collectors; I cannot believe He approves of banning someone for being harmlessly happy.

The transfolk I know are very nice people. They do not want you to be transgender (unless you really are). They do not want you to be a cheerleader for them (unless you really are). They want you to love them, support them, ignore them, dislike them, etc. based on their personalities ~ you know, the way you judge cispeople. They want their families to love them and accept them the same as when everyone thought they were cisgender.

I don't know what Jesus would do. I believe, however, that He loves transfolk, cisfolk, tall folk, short folk and so on, just the same. I believe He died for all of us. I've wondered for years why I got that gift, that glimpse into heaven. Now, I think I am beginning to understand; I think it was to me the courage to share that message of love, tolerance, and acceptance.

If you haven't made sure that your transchild, transparent (uh. . . there has to be a better word) transfriend knows you still love them, accept them, and are genuinely trying to understand them: Go now. Tell them. Show them. Merry Christmas and God Bless Us Everyone!

Transgender Day of Remembrance

Uh. . . okay? What are we remembering? If you're new to the transgender world, and you love someone who is transgender, you probably don't want to read this post. You really should read this post. Transphobia is real and is a helluvalot scarier than arachnophobia, claustrophobia or any other traditional phobia. I've spent most of my life bug-phobic ~ I once woke my husband to kill a bug for me (I don't know what kind ~ there was no way I was going to get close enough to find out) because it was in the tub and I needed to get ready for work. My aunt's claustrophobia means that, for all the years after they married that Grandma was still alive, my uncle & cousins had to drive across country for vacation ~ because my aunt cannot fly. These are "normal" phobias. They are annoying and sometimes quite disruptive to the sufferer and loved ones. That's it.

Transphobia is different. It expresses itself aggresively. It is violent. It is ugly. It is no more a phobia than rape is sex. It is about power, control and hate. True phobics want to conquer their fear. Transphobics want to conquer that which they fear. It is the transphobics who should be feared, and if they act on their fear, they need to be punished.

Back to the Transgender Day of Remembrance, there are a lot of awesome transfolk in the world. We want to keep it that way. Until we admit to ourselves how much violence is directed at transgender people, we cannot confront the problem. The first step is recognizing that there is a problem. So, every November 20th is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. It is the day we acknowledge those people whose lives were cut short because some asshole was too insecure in his own masculinity (women are guilty of transphobia, too ~ but they don't seem to act on it) to let someone different live. Yes, live. Transphobia is about beating, rape, murder. IT MUST END!

According to the FBI, in 2012, there were 12,765 murders in the US. There are 313,914,040 people in the US. In other words, approximately 1:24,000 people in the US were murdered last year. If transgendered people are represented at the same rate, we'd have lost 28 in past year. This list skims the surface, there are more. Few details were available because the news tends to downplay murders of LGBT people. The level of brutality is particularly horrific.

Islan Nettles was beaten to death in Harlem, across the street from the police station house, after her murderer learned that he had just come on to a transwoman.

Melony Smith was beaten to death in Los Angeles, just because. The local news refers to her as a man and by her birth name.

Konyale Madden was shot to death in her home after having told a family member she was going out on a date. Nice date.

Diamond Williams was murdered and dismembered by hatchet and screwdriver.

Cemia Dove was stabbed, tied to a concrete block, and thrown in a pond. Once her body was found, the media attacked her all over again.

Mercedes Demarco died suspiciously while in police custody.

Eyricka Morgan was stabbed by another resident of her boarding house.

Shaun Hartley was beaten to death with a board.

Dominique Newburn was brutally murdered in her home, bludgeoned or stabbed ~ no official cause of death has been released, although her death was three months ago.

Milan Boudreaux, along with husband Akeem, shot to death in their home.

Not one of these people deserved to die.

This is not a complete list of this year's victims of transphobia in the US. For one thing, it is hard to find them all because police and newspapers often refer to victims by the wrong gender and names they no longer used. For another, the bastards who hurt them don't go around admitting they did it because they don't like people who are different (defense attorneys don't encourage admissions of hate-fueled guilt). Yet another reason, and this is soooooo sad, is that many victims of transphobia take their own lives because they've been abandoned by the very people who are supposed to be their staunchest allies. If your child commits suicide because you were a bully, you probably won't tell the truth to investigators.

These are all people whose lives were cut short. The reason is often unknown, but that I could find this many transgender murder victims in just a few hours screams volumes. If you know of a transgender victim of violence, speak out. Don't let the police or the media treat someone any differently because he or she isn't cis. People are people and must all be treated the same.

It can be difficult for transfolk (especially teens & young adults) to find decent jobs. Those who get tossed out by their families often end up on the street, turning tricks to survive. That is a horrible fate to consign someone to and it puts them at even greater risk.

Allies, hold your loved ones close to your heart. Make certain they know you love them. Assure them home is really home ~ get over your issues, get over yourself and invite your child back home. Give them the key. Let them know that as long as you have a roof your head, there is a roof for them. And transfolk, trust your gut, if somebody gives you the willies ~ get away. Please. We want there to be no more need for a Transgender Day of Remembrance.

I'm Not Special? Whaa!

Did you ever notice how common your special just became? When you're expecting, it seems like suddenly everyone is pregnant. If you buy a white car because nobody drives white cars and you want to find yours in parking lots, suddenly there are white cars everywhere. And, of course, when your child announces he or she is a she or he, you see transpeople everywhere.

It's almost comical. And it is a completely predictable phenomenon. Just like there is no dramatic increase in the birth rate corresponding to your pregnancy, there is no dramatic increase in the number of transpeople that you randomly see. (I should note that you may actually see a lot more transgender people, because you may meet your child's friends from a support group.) What does change is your awareness. You see a woman with "man hands" and while you may still remember that episode of Seinfeld, you also think, "I bet she's transgender."

I love to categorize everything and everyone. This is why I have a transdaughter, because God has a twisted sense of humor. She no longer fits in the box I designed for her at birth; this is confusing and stressful to me. I love her immensely, but I want to shove her in a box and she refuses. She patiently resists and forces me to accept that I cannot categorize everyone neatly. Some people are spheres or cones or stellated dodecahedrons and just don't snugly fit into boxes. And I have to learn to deal with that. I fail. I've accepted that not everyone is a cube, so I now I mentally try to plug them into different shaped boxes. It's a fun puzzle, but it may be wrong. 

It's weird to realize that you're looking at people differently. I don't know if it's right or wrong, or neutral. I noticed a transwoman because of her facial hair. Previously, my first thought would have been something along the lines of "menopause sucks" because I've noticed the need to wax more as fifty looms ever larger on the horizon. Now, my reaction is closer to "aw, poor thing, bet she can't wait to get laser hair removal." I realized I was looking at the world through my new prejudices, assuming basing on one observation. The "bearded lady" is almost certainly transgender, she had other tells.

I don't think it is right or wrong to wonder; I do think it's wrong to focus on that one external aspect of someone ~ just as it is wrong to decide what someone is like because of skin color. I'm working on noticing something else, anything else. While I notice race quickly (it's hard not to) I am pretty good at noticing more, so that race is just one facet of the of the box I store someone in. The new challenge is similar. When I notice someone is transgender, I find myself looking for another facet, the "bearded lady" has a great twinkle in her blue eyes, for example.

One big problem with noticing the little tells, is that the person you're studying may be aware that you are studying them. Do not ask, "Are you a dude or a chick?" This question will offend pretty much everyone. Do not ask, "Are you transgender?" This question will confuse or offend cisfolk and hurt transfolk. Imagine spending years with everyone thinking you are a girl, treating you as a girl, calling you a girl, but you are a boy and you have always known that. At long last, you have the courage to come out, to say, "Mom, Dad, you are so wrong about me." You begin to transition, to show the world who you really are, to think that the world sees the real you ~ and then some lummox asks if you are transitioning. Even if it's well-meaning, you have just announced to this person that they look like a fake. That is just plain mean.

Be special. Be awesome. Be the person who doesn't care what gender someone is when you first meet them. Be the person who just wants to make a new friend.

Why Are You So Interested in My Child's Genitalia?

There's a headline that'll scare anyone who isn't paying attention. But, honestly, at times, it seems like people are way too obsessed with genitals ~ especially those they have no reason to be familiar with. My daughter is not a stripper or a porn star. In fact, she's rather modest. Yet, occasionally, someone learning that I have a transgender daughter asks the dreaded question, "So, is he gonna do the whole thing? Surgery and all?" Yes, they always say "he" and no, my daughter is not a "he."

Admittedly, this question is only occasionally asked, but even occasionally is too much. Think about it.

C'mon. You can do it.

All the transfolk & their allies (I'd like to think I qualify as an ally) are chuckling now at all the people scratching their heads. Other than the pronoun issue, a huge percentage of people see nothing wrong with that question. Want some help?

How would you feel if I asked you what kind of genitals you have?

The standard reaction is that it's silly question because, after all, isn't it obvious? The answer is, "No. It's not obvious." Gender is not a function of genitals. If gender stemmed from the presence or absence of a vagina, there would be no such thing as transgenderism (which may not be a word, but you get what I'm saying). Gender is mental. It is your identity. It is who you are, not what you are.

The next reaction tends towards, "What business it is of yours?" Exactly. No normal adult would dream of walking up to a coworker and asking if they have a penis. Yet people think it is perfectly reasonable to ask transfolk which genitalia they're sporting. Somewhat more horrifying, they will ask parents and grandparents of transgender people about their offspring's wee-wees and hoo-has. (Okay, I'll admit it ~ that line was fun to type.)

A transgender person is a person ~ they are 100% human. If you wouldn't ask a cisperson about their bits, don't ask a transperson. In other words, it is appropriate for some of your healthcare providers, anyone you plan to bed and ~ hmmm, that's about it, maybe your best friend. It is not appropriate for co-workers, in-laws, carpoolers, etc.

My daughter is transgender. She used to have a boy name, participate in Boy Scouts and serve as an altar boy ~ because we were all confused. That is reasonable discussion territory. Perhaps the topic may come up one day, but don't bring it up. Whether someone has an innie or an outie between their legs is even more personal than, "How much do you make?" or "How much do you weigh?"

Show some respect and some decency. When you find out someone is transgender, do not respond by asking about their junk, "Oh. You want to grab a beer?" is a much better response.

Cross Your Legs & Hope for Dry

©2012 Sam Killerman

Remember in school, lining up for everything, especially the bathroom ~ sometimes alphabetically, sometimes by height, but pretty much always there was a boys' line and a girls' line. And transkids go into the line everyone seems to think they belong in. Everyone but the transkids themselves, that is. Deep inside, they know something's wrong with this picture. The world (or Mom, Dad & the doctor, anyway) have made a major decision based on what is, or isn't, dangling "down there." Some children have gone to extremes in attempt to match their outsides to their insides, including one little girl who tried to castrate herself before she finally convinced her parents that's she's not a boy.

In the early stages (pre-hormones until at least a year after beginning hormones) of transition, the bathroom issue is traumatic. You know what gender you are, but the world doesn't necessarily agree with you. And you're never sure just how others see you. Imagine going into the men's bathroom if you look a little too feminine, how safe would you feel? On the other hand, in the women's room, everyone uses a stall, every time. That's better. Right? What if you look a little too masculine? A skittish woman screams, or maybe a father waiting outside for his daughter sees you, decides you're a perv and decks you before his little girl comes dancing out, completely unscathed. What is "a little too masculine" or "a little too feminine"? Well, that is in the eye of the beholder.

Pretty much every Target and Walmart has a trans-friendly bathroom (God bless 'em). They didn't set out to do that, but those Family Bathrooms solve the issue for transfolk. In addition to being a Godsend for parents shopping with opposite gendered children and transfolk, they are also a blessing for those with bashful bladders.

So here is a request to all cisfolk out there ~ when you see someone in the bathroom who looks "not quite right" don't assume the worst. If they're behaving like you, then maybe, on the inside, they are the same gender as you. Ignore them, that is the nicest reaction you can have (other than, "Oh. That one's out of paper, try the next one.")

And businesses ~ when you're building, or remolding, think about adding a family bathroom. Or several. Women take longer in the bathroom, for one thing we wash our hands; there is always the issue of whether to have more stalls in the women's room to compensate. Here's another option, how about three rooms: men's women's & who care's? You'll make some people very happy and you'll have a couple extra stalls for times when the gender mix is lopsided.

Feel free to add anyplace you know with trans-friendly bathrooms to the comments. If we get a good list going I may set up a page of safe bathrooms.

Transitions Brings Families Together

It's truly fascinating to see how people react to the news that someone they know is transgender. As I've mentioned, P is kind of an ass about the whole thing. But when I really listen to what he's saying, it doesn't ring true. Increasingly, his anti-trans-anything comments sound forced ~ almost as though his heart isn't in it. I suspect that his rants are strictly obligatory, because that's what little brothers are supposed to do. He recently met a genderqueer friend of E's and is more intrigued than put-off (I'm so proud of him).

My 91-year-old father was over the other day and called E by her chosen name. He got his granddaughter's name right, and is just fine with her being a granddaughter. Tomorrow he may not remember if my middle child is Roger, Tommy or Annabelle, but for one brief and shining moment, he was right. Now if he could just remember to turn off the shower when he's done with it. . .

One busybody I know (and we all know one) read this blog. Busybody then contacted another mutual acquaintance to say that D is becoming a woman. Second acquaintance contacted yet another person to ask if it's true. Third person (the only one in this triad who is genuinely friends with E and me) told me about it so we could laugh at Thing 1 & Thing 2. Thing 1 (busybody) pretty much only contacts me to complain about me and Thing 2 contacts me about once a year.

It is not true, of course, that D is becoming a woman. This may be the single most important thing to learn about transfolk: they are not changing genders, they are simply no longer lying about their genders in order to "fit in." Also D no longer exists, she is a woman and her name is E. While this takes some getting used to, it really is quite straightforward.

I don't fault Thing 1 and Thing 2 ~ actually, gossip can be a wonderful thing. Awkward, painful and embarrassing things can be brought up more easily by someone indirectly involved. People's first reactions aren't necessarily their truest reaction. It is probably better that E didn't see my initial response to the transgender news, it wasn't pretty. When someone at work gets laid off, sometimes the relief that "it wasn't me" can be mistaken for "ha ha!" A new widow shouldn't have to tell dozens of people her spouse died ~ one friend can tell two friends, and they'll tell two friends. . . She should be greeted with sympathy, not questions about what she & the hubby are planning for vacation.

So, gossip if you like. "So, er, Ted, that beard's coming in nicely" is a much better greeting than, "ACKK! Sally, you have a beard!" Just remember, the new guy is the same girl you've known for years. Just keep facts straight and accurate and be certain your listener knows what is factual and what is your opinion.

And stop talking about people's genitals! Seriously! Whether someone has an Innie or an Outie is none of your business.

A Half-full Glass

There are plenty of issues involved in transition that are problematic (for instance, E's insurance covers about half her annual therapy sessions ~ it's sliding fee, but she feels bad paying little or nothing). Sometimes, I get so involved in the bad things that I miss the good. I doubt I'm alone. So, today, I want to share a few happy transition moments ~ the glass half-full as it were.

I was complaining to E about wearing plaids with stripes, a look I've always hated, and she agreed! It seems she has very few solid color tees. Physically, she may be 23, but hormonally she's thirteen ~ agreeing with Mom is a pretty amazing thing. E has always been nicer than average (she was, after all, the sweetest little boy) but I remember myself as an adolescent and I was a bitch to my mother. Sorry, Mom.

At Target, I stopped at Juniors tees and picked some out for E. Having raised three boys and never having occasion to buy things like tutus, it was fun! Yea, pink! Plus, she wears a much smaller size than me so she has much prettier things to pick from. Not only did E appreciate them, but she said she almost bought those very colors recently. The day after I gave my daughter clothes, she was wearing one of the shirts.

I picked her up the other night and as she got into my car I realized that it looked like a girl was getting in. I was surprised to see how feminine she is looking and moving these days. I can still see my son, but my daughter is coming to the surface more and more. I'm so happy for her.

E and I were shopping recently and a clerk approached us, "Are you ladies finding everything okay tonight?" People are noticing her as a girl! I look forward to the day when someone thinks she could pass for a man.

___________________________________________

P.S.  I've been asked if there is a typo in the last line. There is not.

E is a woman, as is becoming apparent to others. If you tell a ciswoman that she's passing for a woman, she'd be insulted. Well, when you tell a transwoman that she is "passing as a woman" you are saying she isn't really a woman. Don't worry ~ it took me a while to get this, too.

So, to clarify, I look forward to the day when someone noticing my daughter's androgyny sees a masculine woman, rather than a feminine man. It's the next step towards the world seeing Emma the way she sees herself.

A Boy Named Sue

With apologies to Johnny Cash (and Shel Silverstein, who actually wrote it) adjusting to your child's new gender sometimes feels like living A Boy Named Sue. "He, er, she" is horrifically common at first. For those who don't know he-she is very offensive, so that stumbling as you try to adjust can feel mean, when, in fact, you're trying to be supportive. Kids are remarkably resilient (these are the same people we practiced the whole parenting thing on years ago, enabling us to now be the annoying experts our parents and aunts & uncles were twenty years ago). They survived our learning to be parents, they'll survive our fumbling now. They can tell when you've stumbled and were correcting yourself and appreciate that you want to respect their wishes. Keep trying, it gets easier.

My friend from the Trinidad Clinic once told me that the pronoun is the hardest thing for parents to adapt to. The secret to proper pronoun usage is the same as learning any new thing. Practice. Practice some more. Practice again. Seriously, it's that easy. E has been my daughter for less than a year and I get it right half the time. True, that means I get it wrong half the time, but just as my daughter's girliness is a work in progress, so is my vocabulary.

When I meet new people and they ask about my kids, I make a point of saying two boys & a girl. It's a conscious effort to say "my daughter" "she" "E". Because I try to refer to her regularly, my brain has started to think of her as "her". Also, I changed her name in my cell phone so texts come from E ~ that has been hugely helpful in retraining my brain.

What's been the hardest part is calling E by her new name. I think of her as E, I talk about her as E but when I call her name, I keep saying D. grrrrr

So, what's been your issue ~ name or pronoun? If you have any tips for other parents, please share, I could use them. It would be nice to be right 75% of the time.

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus & My Daughter Is an Astronaut

It makes sense. If men and women really are from two different planets (and it sure seems that way sometimes, doesn't it?) then you'd have to be an astronaut to go from one to the other. I'm learning so much from my explorer. I have come to the conclusion that marriage counselors should be people who transitioned as adults ~ they are the only people who are fluent in both Martian and Venusian.

She's noticed a considerable loss of muscle mass since she began blocking testosterone and taking estrogen. Like or not, women really are weaker. It's harder for us to build muscle.

On the other hand ~ women have a higher tolerance for pain. Weaker, but tougher. I can live with that.

Women can handle spicier foods. I would not have guessed that, I am the household wimp when it comes to spice. Apparently, if I were a guy, I couldn't handle anything spicier than a bell pepper.

Women have more sensitive noses. Since starting estrogen, she's noticed men tend to stink. Seriously, guys, you do. Skip the nasty cologne and try soap, shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste ~ these fragrances will attract more women.

People treat her differently, and not always in a good way. Men on the bus allow more personal space for another man than they do a woman. This is icky. Men, do not sit any closer to a woman you don't know than you would to a man. Please. Please.


Here is the most mind-blowing observation: men and women feel emotions differently. When you think "(S)he just doesn't get it" you may be right. Men feel emotions intellectually, like a different level of thought. Women feel emotions physically ~ for us, emotions are tangible, palpable and impossible to ignore. Ponder that. Think about all those times someone of the opposite sex seemed unable to see your point of view. Now, think about it with the knowledge of how they feel. Who needs hallucinogens when you have that concept bouncing around your brain?

So, boys, the next time she cries at a movie, remember, she physically feels that emotion.

And, girls, the next time he thinks you're insane for crying at a movie, remember, emotions hit him above the neck, not in the chest.

Maybe, armed with this amazing knowledge, Mars and Venus can get along better, meet halfway, and settle Earth (I bet we'd have a blast populating it).

Mom Has a Closet Too

When I think of all the issues my daughter is facing, mine seem so trivial. But, part of the reason for this blog is to help parents feel less alone, so it would be dishonest not to admit my own shallowness.

What do I write in the Christmas newsletter?

It's kind of a silly dilemma ~ but I can be kind of silly. This is our first Christmas with our daughter. A change in gender identity can't be hidden forever, but it can be postponed. Do I update family & friends on my three sons? Tell them one child's news is huge? Send two different letters, one to those in the know and another to the rest? Update them on two sons and a daughter and pretend that's the way it's always been? I'm leaning that way partly because it'll fun to see who doesn't respond with what the?

Because of the way I found out (Kicking Down the Closet Door) several co-workers knew pretty much as soon as I did; it's been fairly easy telling people at work. Talking with my mother one day, it just slid right out, easy peasy. Mom was awesome, she asked if he was taking hormones. When she learned he was, her response was, "Pretty soon he'll have boobies." Still makes me laugh ~ and I was worried about how she'd react, silly me. Months later, she still refers to E by male pronouns, but she doesn't care because E is happy. It took me weeks to make the connection between depression and gender dysphoria (or years, since I didn't figure out the dysphoria on my own) Mom made the connection in minutes. So much for the cognitive powers slipping after your eightieth birthday. She's not sure we should tell Dad, "You know how he blurts things out." He'll probably find out on Thanksgiving, when he tells his grandson he's looking like a girl with that long hair. My guess is Dad will take it as well as Mom, and then forget so we can go through the whole thing again at Christmas. In his defense, he is a nonagenarian.

The aunt & uncle who live a four-hour plane ride away, who probably would get judgmental, don't really need to know. They are very old and it's doubtful E will ever see them again. But her paternal grandpa doesn't know yet. We need to tell him. We have no idea how he'll handle it. Just fine, I think, but I'm not positive.

How do we tell extended family and friends? Gossip isn't always bad. Sometimes it's a great way to spread news that gets uncomfortable telling over and over. True, it's not everyone's business, but it's the sort of thing everyone will find out eventually ~ like pregnancy.

E came out on Facebook, once her parents and siblings knew. I sort of did, because I linked the first post of this blog ~ but I blocked those most likely to wig out. I'm a coward. I want to stand up and yell at the world, "E is my daughter! And she's fabulous! If you have a problem with that, crawl back under your rock and shut the heck up!" But, that would make waves, so I toss pebbles in the pond when I should throw boulders.

Other scary things

Yesterday, I wrote about violence against transfolk. It's not just the violence that scares me. What about the social stigma? Her own brother (the little brother, as I've mentioned previously her big brother has been great about this) is an ass about her transition. "I'll never call him E." Yeah, because that will make her magically turn into a boy. A friend of hers quit their (the friend's preferred pronoun) job due to things like being called "It."

She went to get a pair of glasses at LensCrafters. She used her new name, but was looking fairly masculine at the time. The optician kept stumbling over pronouns and had trouble with her order, when a supervisor asked if there was a problem, the clerk exclaimed, "I don't know how to deal with this thing!" E. was certain he meant her, not the computer. The supervisor wasn't mortified. I decided to mention the store because other transfolk and those who love them will probably want to avoid the chain.  I wish I knew how to stop the bullies that appear everywhere.

She came out at work and people have, by and large, been supportive or indifferent. However, her employer refuses to send out any kind of memo about the name change and consequently, E. finds herself having to come out again and again. It isn't huge, but think about how stressful that would be.

It's a normal maternal reaction to want to protect your baby from everything unpleasant. We can't ~ but we desperately want to.

Hormone therapy is tough on the body. Continually taking estrogen increases the risk of breast cancer and blood clots. Taking a break from the hormones isn't an option because E. doesn't produce estrogen, no transwoman does.

Surgery is always risky ~ infections, complications from anesthesia and what if it's just botched? No, I'm not paranoid, not at all. The area of healthcare in which I work involves tremendously sick people, many of my patients have been people suffering the effects of healthcare.

Health care is problematic. Doctors sometimes do more harm than good. Sometimes the care isn't even available. Tyra Hunter died because she was transexual and denied emergency care. How is that even possible? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath?

The police are another issue. Those who've sworn to protect and serve often choose whom they'll protect and serve. Cops tend to be biased against the LBGT community, a problem Amnesty International refers to as Brutality in Blue. They routinely pick up transwomen for prostitution, just for the heck of it. They belittle transgendered crime victims.

In effort to provide information for you, Reader, I find myself learning things I'd rather not. There is so much ugly aimed our transgender loved ones . . .

The best weapon against ignorance is knowledge, arm yourselves. The best weapon against bigotry is openness ~ so open your heart, explain to "Archie Bunker" why his attitude is harmful and pray. Pray for the person(s) you love and pray that the haters hearts will be opened before they do any more harm.

It terrifies me. . .

I am terrified by the whole works: being transgender, transitioning, everything. The whole world is a harsh place ~ it is far more dangerous for women than men, even more so for LGB folk, but the T. Oh that T. There are men who hurt women because they're women. There are men who hurt homosexuals because they're insecure in their own masculinity. (Frankly, I think both groups are just neurotic about their teeny-tiny penises.) But transfolk, they get to deal with the exponentiated psychoses of rapist x homophobe.

The National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs put out a report on violence against LBGTQ people recently. Transgender people are 1.67 times as likely to suffer threats and violence as LGBTQ non-transgender people. Over 50% of LGBTQ homicide victims in 2012 were transwomen. Before she accepted that she is a woman, she was depressed. A lot. I worried she might hurt herself. When she is on estrogen, I don't worry at all about that. Now I worry about strangers.

E. has never been an intimidating kind of guy. As a man he was kind of short, as a woman she is only slightly taller than average. She is slender. She is gentle and it shows. As a man, she has been attacked (hit, kicked & robbed) five times that I know of. She won't take the bus home after three in the afternoon because two of those times were on the bus. Real men, sane men, meet someone non-threatening and respond by either ignoring or protecting them. Cowards strike out. It would be comical if only they were as ineffective as they are craven. She has always had a vulnerable vibe ~ is she more vulnerable now? Since she's been on estrogen, she is more confident, will that help protect her?

The ugliness in the world has already stained my baby. It terrifies me that there might be more. But she really isn't keen on being kept safe in the house where the world can't hurt her. She wants to live her life. And I have to let her, because I love her.

Oh Goody, Dr Mengele's In Town

There are 3,800,000 people in the Twin Cities metropolitan area. We've banned marriage discrimination by popular vote.  We legalized gay marriage. We've had a Pride parade and festival for forty years. This could be considered a tolerant town. And yet. . .

E's doctor put her on estrogen. She noticed an immediate change. She has energy. She is calmer. She is happy. She seems comfortable in her own skin. It did more to calm her anxiety than anything anyone ever prescribed for anxiety. Then her doctor stopped the estrogen because she didn't have the money for labs/bloodwork and insurance provided by her union refuses to cover it (jerks). Then they give her back the estrogen. But wait, she still smokes. So the doctor pulled the estrogen. It's like puberty every time you started taking the hormones. It's like menopause every time you stop. This is so freaking sadistic. I hate this Bulls---!! My baby is suffering and the doc is on a power trip.

New doctor. Trans-friendly. She met with E and determined that keeping the poor girl off estrogen was only increasing stress and (as any smoker knows) smoking eases stress. So now E is on estrogen again. Hopefully she can quit smoking, but this doctor isn't training to be a Nazi, so E can keep the estrogen.

It's almost like she is allergic to testosterone. She likens the wrong hormones to substituting diesel for unleaded ~ the engine'll run, but it won't be pretty. On estrogen, she smiles. She has so much energy it's almost obnoxious. She grins spontaneously. She sleeps normal amounts. She's chipper. Are you getting the picture? With the right hormones, E is a totally different, wonderful woman.

This transition is a looooong process. And it doesn't appear that the insurance through work will cover anything. Not the hormones (which are not cheap). Not the doctor visits. Not the counseling. Certainly not the surgery. None of it. She can't afford it. Her father & I can't afford it. Somehow we need to figure out a way. Winning the lottery might be the best bet.

The difference between my son on testosterone (naturally occurring) and my daughter on estrogen (pharmaceutically applied) is night & day. As a man she was depressed. Deeply. Clinically. Not the blues. Not a little unhappy. Genuinely depressed. He saw doctors and took pills, and he was still depressed. He concluded that it was his lot in life not to be happy (and didn't tell me that until recently, after starting transition). But once he accepted that the feelings he was a girl were not going away, that he really is a girl, the weight began to lift. When he told his friends, and they accepted her, she was happier. When she told her brother & best friend, and he didn't care one whit, but just loved her, life got better.

The difference is palpable. No one with half a brain would go through this lightly. So why do doctors fight with their patients? Some doctors won't prescribe hormones unless a person proves they're truly miserable by attempting suicide. Ponder that logic awhile. Even the American Psychological Association admits there is debate as to whether transgenderism, or gender dysphoria, is a mental health problem. If we call it a disease, we say there is something intrinsically wrong ~ but, if it's not a disease, insurance doesn't pay for treatment. And the fact is that there is something wrong, if transfolk just wanted to wear different clothes, they wouldn't go to the doctor, they would just cross-dress. These people want help, why do so many doctors refuse to provide it?

Kicking Down the Closet Door

E has been on anti-androgens for several months. She told her big brother. She couldn't quite tell her parents. And she didn't want to start anything that would produce visible changes until we knew. J, in classic over-bearing-because-I-love-you big brother fashion decided to nudge things along. One day at work I received a text message from J that there was big news and he wasn't allowed to tell me, but he could hint. It was a rare quiet afternoon, so I said I was ready. Mom's can be sooooooo naïve sometimes. No one is ever ready for this. No one. Not even (maybe especially) the one stepping out of the closet.

The hint was, "Testosterone blockers."

Did I mention J can be an idiot? He was ten when I became a pharmacy technician. His wife is a pharmacist. He should know if we aren't familiar with a drug, we'll get there quick. So, after a brief check, I determined that I missed something and responded with something on the line of, "Your brother is becoming your sister?" Then I dropped the phone in my pocket and got back to work.

A few minutes later I learned that my son was indeed becoming my daughter. I'd like to say that I was immediately supportive and just the bestest mom ever. I'd like to say that, but it would be a lie.  That text knocked the wind out of me ~ darned near knocked me over. The pharmacists standing next to me could tell something big just happened. I stammered, managed to tell them what I learned. So many things rushed through me ~ all negative. The hormones. The surgeries. The umpteen ways they could go wrong. The social implications, could he ever find someone who'd accept the change? How will he pay for it? This must be hugely expensive. But, but, but, God doesn't make mistakes. 

One of my co-workers had worked for ten years at the Trinidad Clinic under Dr Stanley Biber (the man who pioneered sexual reassignment surgery in the US). She was a Godsend, truly. She heard the (borderline hysterical) trauma in my voice and piped up. When I asked if my child could be happy after, she assured me that the transgender people she knows are happy and fulfilled. Fulfilled? Hadn't thought of that. Then the questions started. Someone else joined the conversation who thought it was theoretical and asked more detailed physiological questions. At that point I learned way too much. After all, we were talking about my baby. When researching, tread carefully ~ many sites post too many details far too bluntly. Parents need to be eased in.

As I digested the news, I realized that, by the nature of my job, I am far more aware of the small percentage of bad outcomes. Nearly all surgeries in this country provide the desired outcome. Hormone therapy is safer than ever, with physicians aiming for the lowest effective dose. He (no, she) could be happy and fulfilled. Money, well insurance will pay, he's in a union and has good insurance (I was wrong about that ~ her insurance sucks). As for God?

I prayed. A lot. And then I prayed some more. I am Catholic. I sit in Mass every Sunday and wonder if I am supposed to disown my son. God answered. Loudly. One particular Bible verse resonated in my head. John 13:34. Does God make mistakes? Of course not. But sometimes God creates challenges. If you would give child a cochlear implant, or a heart transplant, why would you not correct gender dysphoria?

John 13:34 ~A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so must you love one another.

There is nothing in that instruction about judging, ostracizing, disowning, just love. And I can love my daughter just as much as I love my son.

She Was the Sweetest Little Boy?

Yup. You read that correctly, she was a boy. No, I haven't suddenly lost the ability to use pronouns. Sometimes, the pronoun just doesn't quite work ~ because sometimes, the gender doesn't quite work. Sometimes your little boy grows up depressed and anxious. It's almost as though he doesn't fit in his own skin. Then one day you learn he really doesn't. He is terribly uncomfortable in his own skin because she is really a woman.

When she told one friend the response was, "That explains so much!" In retrospect, there were clues. In high school, he was cutting. Boys rarely cut, it is far more common (although still rare) for a cutter to be a girl. He didn't date much, we only knew of one girlfriend.  When given a box of 64 Crayolas, he got excited about all those colors, not the quantity ~ he could actually see sixty-four different colors. He's vegetarian, and not because of a girl. When shown pictures of cute kittens, he says. "Awwwww." Of course, when we found out he liked boys we decided these girlish traits were because he's gay. Wrong.

He's not gay. He is she. My son is really my daughter. She is transgender. She is the reason for this blog. It's difficult to find information for the parents of a transgender adult child. If I find helpful sites, I'll provide the links. As the transition unfolds, I'll share the story. I make no promises as to when I'll update, so if you want read every post you'll need to check back regularly, or follow me. (Like how I encourage followers ~ that was subtle wasn't it?)

She has asked that I not use names. This is not from any sense of shame, but a wish for privacy and for security. Transition is tough enough with supportive family & friends, and unsupportive coworkers. There is no need to allow random, potentially hostile strangers to identify her or her friends. Also, using initials means I don't have to ask every single person I mention if I can use their names, and I'm lazy.

Transition, the process of converting the outside to match the inside, takes a great deal of time, money and an unbelievable amount of strength & courage. Fortunately, E. is the strongest woman I know. She is tremendously brave. She has a beautiful heart. She was the sweetest little boy. And now she's an amazing woman.