One of the great things about this trip is that I get to sit with relatives and friends and have long talks. We catch up on all that has happened in our lives since our last meeting; the successes, failures, highs, lows, family gossip and what the hell was I thinking. :) My Mother is no exception. The other day she said the most extraordinary thing to me.
First, I need to tell you a little about my Brother, Steve. I am the oldest of four kids and Steve is number two, thirteen months younger than I. We were not very close for decades. Our relationship has improved significantly over the past fifteen or so years. Even so, we are very different. It is those differences that led me to hurt his feelings; unintentionally, but significantly.
Steve is not the most tolerant person I know. Our “colorful” past and certain things in his nature caused me to conclude that Steve would not be very accepting of my situation and the subsequent decision I made to live my life, full-time as a woman.
I was wrong, very wrong and Steve was hurt that I would think he could not, would not accept my decision and continue to love me. And through my Mother, I learned just how profound my Brother’s mindset toward me actually is. Mother told me that in a conversation with Steve, where she was remarking that she just did not understand why I had chosen this path, Steve told her, “It is not for us to understand. Ours is but to accept.”
Wow!! That blew me away and I cried.
I have a blind spot when it comes to how others react to my decision. Because of this blind spot, I have sought to talk to those affected by my choice and learn exactly how it has affected their lives. To those I have hurt, I apologize and seek forgiveness. It was never my intent to cause pain.
All speak of the surprise to hear the news, but once the shock has passed, their reactions differ. Men often speak of the courage to make such a choice; women are usually sad that I had to live a life in hiding waiting for society to be more open. A few had suspicions that I was either Gay or Transgendered, a few others couldn’t put their finger on it, but knew I was unhappy. Most note that I am a better person, that I radiate happiness now, that I am far more active, social and personally involved in the community than before. They tell me that the qualities that matter remain and have been enhanced despite the change in my appearance.
Still, many do not understand and that is OK. The root of this change is, after all, a Disorder and a rare one at that. Many people will only know one or two Transgendered people in their entire life. Further, the roles of Gender are deeply engrained in everything we do. Those that are comfortable with the sex assigned to them at birth wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China. My youngest brother, Andy, watched me unload all the things I needed just to spend the night at his place, I looked like a pack mule, and remarked, “I know you HAD to do this. No one would willingly choose to be a woman and haul all this stuff around. Being a guy is much simpler.” Indeed.
Going back through the past two years, I can think of only three people that have rejected me outright. My spouse, but to be fair, she rejected me twenty years ago; and two male friends who have refused to talk to me despite apologies and attempts to engage them. As they no doubt don’t understand me, I don’t understand why they won’t talk to me. I simply chalk it up to human nature. In any case, mine is not to understand, mine is simply to accept.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Five Hours of Heaven
Last night I went over to my brother Andy’s place. He is divorced and this is his weekend to have the kids; Connor and Keegan, my teenage nephews and Kiernan, my six year-old niece. It was my good fortune that the kids had Teacher Conferences, so Andy had them early this week since they have today, Friday, off.
As I pulled up into their driveway, Kiernan came running out the front door, braving the cold and wind to greet me with a hug and escorted me into the house. Wednesday she had been so anxious to see me that she made her dad, my brother, drive twenty minutes to my Mother’s so she could spend half an hour with me before having to return to her Mom’s for dinner.
Once inside, she grabbed me by the hand and took me on a tour ending in her bedroom. It was painted two different shades of pink with a paper border around the room four feet high separating them. The head of her bed was covered with stuffed animals; among them were the Fish family, the Monkey family and the Statue of Liberty doll her dad had brought back from New York City. This menagerie rested atop a pink “Dora the Explorer” bedspread.
She showed me her closet, her clothes, her keepsake jewelry and the artwork coveted by her dad. She also showed me her purse, another prized possession from her dad’s trip to New York City. Then we went to see her Bearded Dragon lizard, Thunderball. Thunderball is one of three family lizards, but Kiernan proudly informed me that hers was the largest. Indeed, she was. From there, it was back to the bedroom to play.
She pulled out her Dora the Explorer house and started opening it up so we could play, but she saw a spider and immediately scampered on top of the bed. “Aunt Billie, can you please take care of the spider?” No problem, Aunt Billie to the rescue, then on to our play time. She demonstrated all the gadgets; the oven, the “real” door, the book shelves and the stove. I joined her on the floor where we played until it was time to go to Claxon’s for dinner.
After dinner, we retired to her dad’s room so we could watch “Daffy and the Quackbusters” and eat banana pie. She had obviously seen the movie a few times and made sure I knew the funny parts were coming. She eventually opened up her laptop and started playing a game where you cook various dishes and are scored on how you combine your ingredients and the cooking technique you use. She leaned away from her screen often to make sure I had not fallen asleep, commenting once or twice that I looked tired. (That banana pie was a carb overload!)
It was time to leave and as we said our goodbyes she asked if I could spend the night tomorrow. I told her Saturday night would actually be better, so I will come over then, “OK?” Nope, she couldn’t wait that long, so I am spending the night tonight, Friday.
As I drove home tears filled my eyes as joy filled my heart. THIS is what it is all about, all the pain and patience. I laughed remembering all those posts I have read arguing over terminology and definitions like, what is a woman. I have long since abandoned those debates, but I can answer that question. Last night I was a woman; through and through, one hundred percent pure, Aunt Billie.
And I loved it!!
PS - To see my precious niece, check out this video on YouTube!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDhnRfuj86Q
As I pulled up into their driveway, Kiernan came running out the front door, braving the cold and wind to greet me with a hug and escorted me into the house. Wednesday she had been so anxious to see me that she made her dad, my brother, drive twenty minutes to my Mother’s so she could spend half an hour with me before having to return to her Mom’s for dinner.
Once inside, she grabbed me by the hand and took me on a tour ending in her bedroom. It was painted two different shades of pink with a paper border around the room four feet high separating them. The head of her bed was covered with stuffed animals; among them were the Fish family, the Monkey family and the Statue of Liberty doll her dad had brought back from New York City. This menagerie rested atop a pink “Dora the Explorer” bedspread.
She showed me her closet, her clothes, her keepsake jewelry and the artwork coveted by her dad. She also showed me her purse, another prized possession from her dad’s trip to New York City. Then we went to see her Bearded Dragon lizard, Thunderball. Thunderball is one of three family lizards, but Kiernan proudly informed me that hers was the largest. Indeed, she was. From there, it was back to the bedroom to play.
She pulled out her Dora the Explorer house and started opening it up so we could play, but she saw a spider and immediately scampered on top of the bed. “Aunt Billie, can you please take care of the spider?” No problem, Aunt Billie to the rescue, then on to our play time. She demonstrated all the gadgets; the oven, the “real” door, the book shelves and the stove. I joined her on the floor where we played until it was time to go to Claxon’s for dinner.
After dinner, we retired to her dad’s room so we could watch “Daffy and the Quackbusters” and eat banana pie. She had obviously seen the movie a few times and made sure I knew the funny parts were coming. She eventually opened up her laptop and started playing a game where you cook various dishes and are scored on how you combine your ingredients and the cooking technique you use. She leaned away from her screen often to make sure I had not fallen asleep, commenting once or twice that I looked tired. (That banana pie was a carb overload!)
It was time to leave and as we said our goodbyes she asked if I could spend the night tomorrow. I told her Saturday night would actually be better, so I will come over then, “OK?” Nope, she couldn’t wait that long, so I am spending the night tonight, Friday.
As I drove home tears filled my eyes as joy filled my heart. THIS is what it is all about, all the pain and patience. I laughed remembering all those posts I have read arguing over terminology and definitions like, what is a woman. I have long since abandoned those debates, but I can answer that question. Last night I was a woman; through and through, one hundred percent pure, Aunt Billie.
And I loved it!!
PS - To see my precious niece, check out this video on YouTube!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDhnRfuj86Q
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Tie That Binds
I wish all those relatives out there who have rejected their kin for being Transgender could meet my cousin Gary and his wife Barbara. Their kindness and generosity could not help but influence even the hardest heart.
I can’t remember the last time I saw Gary and Barbara; that is before my sister’s funeral last year. Gary hadn’t seen me as Billie up to that point. Not that it mattered. From the way he acted, you would think seeing his cousin dressed as a woman was an ordinary event! We didn’t have much time to chat about what had happened; we were there to honor my sister Kate, not talk about me. Before we parted, Gary said I was welcome to come visit him anytime.
I took him up on his offer as part of my Sabbatical and just finished a wonderful three day visit. Gary and Barbara put me up in the guest room and made me part of their lives. I posted some video of their lovely place. This time we had the time to chat about what I had been through, what my life had been like and answer some questions.
But more importantly, we connected as family. We reminisced over old times, shared new stories, got caught up on our kids and other kin and remembered those that have departed both recently and long ago. We sang songs we remember from our youth, Gary played a record he made for our Grandparents when he was six and I recounted a train ride to Bartlesville when I was eight. In every story, every memory, every smile, family provided the common reference, the string that held it all together.
I wonder if those that have rejected their Transgender relatives know how much they are actually paying. In their rejection, they cut the family tie and even if it is eventually restored, the damage and loss cannot be repaired. I cannot think of the thing that would cause me to reject my kin. I may not like everything I see, but love can still prevail.
Thank you Gary and Barbara for loving me, for inviting me to come visit and for showing me a wonderful time while I was there. You are the greatest!!
I can’t remember the last time I saw Gary and Barbara; that is before my sister’s funeral last year. Gary hadn’t seen me as Billie up to that point. Not that it mattered. From the way he acted, you would think seeing his cousin dressed as a woman was an ordinary event! We didn’t have much time to chat about what had happened; we were there to honor my sister Kate, not talk about me. Before we parted, Gary said I was welcome to come visit him anytime.
I took him up on his offer as part of my Sabbatical and just finished a wonderful three day visit. Gary and Barbara put me up in the guest room and made me part of their lives. I posted some video of their lovely place. This time we had the time to chat about what I had been through, what my life had been like and answer some questions.
But more importantly, we connected as family. We reminisced over old times, shared new stories, got caught up on our kids and other kin and remembered those that have departed both recently and long ago. We sang songs we remember from our youth, Gary played a record he made for our Grandparents when he was six and I recounted a train ride to Bartlesville when I was eight. In every story, every memory, every smile, family provided the common reference, the string that held it all together.
I wonder if those that have rejected their Transgender relatives know how much they are actually paying. In their rejection, they cut the family tie and even if it is eventually restored, the damage and loss cannot be repaired. I cannot think of the thing that would cause me to reject my kin. I may not like everything I see, but love can still prevail.
Thank you Gary and Barbara for loving me, for inviting me to come visit and for showing me a wonderful time while I was there. You are the greatest!!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Good, the Bad and the Androgynous – 09-23-2009
The Androgynous – I did learn a couple of things on the trip to Denver. It is important for me to enhance every female “cue” I can. At a minimum, I need to choose feminine clothing, wear a touch of mascara and always, always put on lipstick. These simple things go a long way toward countering my male cues. The more androgynous my appearance through ambiguous clothing or no make-up, the easier it is to read my “Trans Badge.”
The Bad – Fear, real honest to goodness fear made for a restless Tuesday night. I have travelled alone before, slept in my vehicle at rest stops many times and was never concerned. I wasn’t a woman either.
I found I was really nervous that the windows were not covered, so someone could see in. I was startled at the slightest noise. (It is amazing how much noise a vehicle makes cooling down after hours and hours on the road.) :) I was constantly looking around, checking the mirrors and watching where all incoming vehicles wound up. All of this vigilance took place while gripping a loaded revolver. Thankfully, I did get some sleep. However, I need to improve my security for sleeping "al fresco."
The Good – After my restless night, I decided I wanted a good, sit-down breakfast. I stopped at the Denny’s in Tucumcari. I got the breakfast I needed as well as a big boost to my confidence!!
I was wearing my signature color; pink capris, a pink top, flats, not running shoes, and pink pearl earrings. I brushed my hair before I left the van, had on a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. While I was eating, I ate as I have seen my girlfriends eat; small bites and placing my utensils on the plate between bites. I picked up my book from time to time, showing indifference toward the food for a moment, then back to eating. I was being “dainty,” at least as dainty as a 400 pound woman can be. :) (This is also a good practice to guard against overeating!)
Half a dozen people came in. We exchanged glances, a smile, a nod or a “Good Morning;” it was all quite ordinary. Even the three construction workers who sat next to me looked me over with the indifference only a middle aged woman could engender. I loved it; kind smiles and acknowledgments toward the nice lady, nothing more.
I pondered why this is so important to me. I concluded that it is no different than many of my born-female friends. They control the environment around them; improve their safety and security by avoiding undue attention, by not dressing or acting provocatively and by presenting themselves in what they describe as a “lady-like” manner. They hold to a standard of public behavior passed down from their Mothers that says there is a difference between being a woman and being a lady and being a lady is preferable.
Perhaps if I were born Jennifer Love Hewitt or Cameron Diaz, I would think differently. But I am a woman born man whose grip on femininity is tentative at best. Society’s fear and misunderstanding of people like me complicates matters because it is impossible to know how someone will react if they scratch my surface and find a past they did not expect. The best way for me to protect myself, protect people like me, is to be what others expect a middle-aged woman to be.
And to act like lady.
The Bad – Fear, real honest to goodness fear made for a restless Tuesday night. I have travelled alone before, slept in my vehicle at rest stops many times and was never concerned. I wasn’t a woman either.
I found I was really nervous that the windows were not covered, so someone could see in. I was startled at the slightest noise. (It is amazing how much noise a vehicle makes cooling down after hours and hours on the road.) :) I was constantly looking around, checking the mirrors and watching where all incoming vehicles wound up. All of this vigilance took place while gripping a loaded revolver. Thankfully, I did get some sleep. However, I need to improve my security for sleeping "al fresco."
The Good – After my restless night, I decided I wanted a good, sit-down breakfast. I stopped at the Denny’s in Tucumcari. I got the breakfast I needed as well as a big boost to my confidence!!
I was wearing my signature color; pink capris, a pink top, flats, not running shoes, and pink pearl earrings. I brushed my hair before I left the van, had on a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. While I was eating, I ate as I have seen my girlfriends eat; small bites and placing my utensils on the plate between bites. I picked up my book from time to time, showing indifference toward the food for a moment, then back to eating. I was being “dainty,” at least as dainty as a 400 pound woman can be. :) (This is also a good practice to guard against overeating!)
Half a dozen people came in. We exchanged glances, a smile, a nod or a “Good Morning;” it was all quite ordinary. Even the three construction workers who sat next to me looked me over with the indifference only a middle aged woman could engender. I loved it; kind smiles and acknowledgments toward the nice lady, nothing more.
I pondered why this is so important to me. I concluded that it is no different than many of my born-female friends. They control the environment around them; improve their safety and security by avoiding undue attention, by not dressing or acting provocatively and by presenting themselves in what they describe as a “lady-like” manner. They hold to a standard of public behavior passed down from their Mothers that says there is a difference between being a woman and being a lady and being a lady is preferable.
Perhaps if I were born Jennifer Love Hewitt or Cameron Diaz, I would think differently. But I am a woman born man whose grip on femininity is tentative at best. Society’s fear and misunderstanding of people like me complicates matters because it is impossible to know how someone will react if they scratch my surface and find a past they did not expect. The best way for me to protect myself, protect people like me, is to be what others expect a middle-aged woman to be.
And to act like lady.
Monday, September 21, 2009
What's the Diff?
My transition story isn’t much different than anyone else’s; I had two roles, the hidden female role and the male role, which was visible to the world. After nearly 18 months of living full-time as a woman, I find to my horror that I still have two roles and the dream of finding peace in my life will likely escape me.
The visible role has changed, I am no longer living as a male. I spend my days as a woman and enjoy that life immensely. In this sense, my dream has come true. I love being Billie and any doubts about making that change have long evaporated.
The other role brings far less pleasure, the role of Transsexual. Before I started this journey, I thought I would be transitioning from one sex to the other. It did not occur to me that the transition would never end. I knew I would never be “born woman,” but I thought that between medical science, training, practice and the courts, my male past would only be visible to those to whom I revealed it. With a body that matched both my mind’s eye and the paperwork, I would be as close to born woman as one can get. Transition complete.
Now I find the only way to achieve that end is to do something I find equally distasteful; cut off all contact with the Trans community. Abandon those that have helped me, those that I could help, and those that are lost in their own struggle. I can’t do it; yet I hate wearing this label and I hate even more the need some have to ensure the world knows I am wearing it.
I didn’t like being Bill, but it was a role I had mastered. Although there was always a danger that my secret life as Billie would be discovered, at least I didn’t have anyone actively trying to out me. Maybe I was better off than I thought.
The visible role has changed, I am no longer living as a male. I spend my days as a woman and enjoy that life immensely. In this sense, my dream has come true. I love being Billie and any doubts about making that change have long evaporated.
The other role brings far less pleasure, the role of Transsexual. Before I started this journey, I thought I would be transitioning from one sex to the other. It did not occur to me that the transition would never end. I knew I would never be “born woman,” but I thought that between medical science, training, practice and the courts, my male past would only be visible to those to whom I revealed it. With a body that matched both my mind’s eye and the paperwork, I would be as close to born woman as one can get. Transition complete.
Now I find the only way to achieve that end is to do something I find equally distasteful; cut off all contact with the Trans community. Abandon those that have helped me, those that I could help, and those that are lost in their own struggle. I can’t do it; yet I hate wearing this label and I hate even more the need some have to ensure the world knows I am wearing it.
I didn’t like being Bill, but it was a role I had mastered. Although there was always a danger that my secret life as Billie would be discovered, at least I didn’t have anyone actively trying to out me. Maybe I was better off than I thought.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Walk About September 15, 2009
Hi everyone. I am a little behind. I have spent a lot of time gaining the technical skills needed to make this happen and it looks like I have most of the kinks worked out. Following is some insight into our first day on the great Walk About. For those that don't know, Toni D'orsay has come along with me. I am expecting a grand time with her along!!
I was telling some folks before I left for this adventure that I was really interested in finding out how the rest of the world reacted to Billie. I felt that in Phoenix and in particular where I work, I was insulated to a great extent. After all, after living as a woman full-time for 17 months, I have not received a single derogatory comment. I am already finding out and it’s just the first day!! First, some details.
The first leg of the trip took on a new priority when son Tony flew into Phoenix with a friend to move his stuff up to Denver. Since Tony was unable to borrow a truck, he asked if we would consider hauling a trailer up there for him. Unfortunately, there was no time to lollygag as both Tony and Thom needed to be at work on Wednesday. Toni D. and I figured we would have arrived in Denver in two or three days if we had stopped at all the places we were interested in seeing. :)
We had hoped to be on the road by 5:00 am, but didn’t get out until 5:45; not bad. The journey went well; the van performed flawlessly towing the massive trailer. The event of interest was the convenience stop on the Navajo reservation at Indian City. As I was paying for a candy bar, the clerk, a very nice lady, asked me, “So, you two are actually men dressed as women, is that correct?” I am sure she could hear the incredulity in my voice when I responded, “That’s not the way I would I put it.”
She was very kind and made it clear that she was simply curious and did not mean to offend. She asked how I would put it. I said, “I am just a woman.” She told Toni and me that she didn’t get out much and liked to take advantage of learning situations as they occurred at the shop. So, we talked with her for awhile, long enough to bring the boys in from outside to see what happened to us. I vowed that from here on out, I will lose the attitude and become curious myself.
Tony and and his friend, Thom are great kids. Tony drove for several hours so I could catch a little sleep. With all the stops needed for my aging bones and bladder, the trip took 17 and-a-half hours. When we arrived, I actually backed the trailer into a parking place at their apartment complex! I never thought I would be able to do that. I have to confess a few plants may have suffered. :)
We had an interesting experience when we arrived at the hotel. Toni and I arrived around 1:00 am and we were exhausted. Most guys, even the most selfish will help two women struggling with their luggage, if only to hold the door open. This guy, the night desk clerk, was sitting in a chair, in the lobby, a mere 20 feet from the front door, notebook computer on his lap watching the History Channel. Toni and I both were loaded down and could barely open the door. The clerk did not budge; twice.
I am not sure if he was lazy or indifferent or whether he had read us as “trans” and was translating his opinion of us into non-action. I suspected it was the latter when he started using male pronouns in reference to us. I told him I intended to file a complaint about his behavior; which really upset him. He called his boss, who apparently exonerated his lack of action. At the conclusion of the call, he simply smiled and said, “I hope you have a nice evening.”
I will file the complaint. As a customer, irrespective of my gender presentation, “hospitality” is simply good business and I am sure the higher ups at the hotel will be interested in knowing how this franchise treats their “guests.” I will be happy to share the name on the establishment upon request.
We will see Tony and Thom again, and Gina too, on Wednesday evening; then Gina has Thursday off so the three girls will rat around Denver all day. From here Toni and I will be on our own and for starters will head back down to Trinidad for a visit.
I have posted a short video on YouTube. It is the very first using my new camera and the sound is not great, but you get to see my wonderful son, Tony. More tomorrow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6xf0CzmFpA
Take Care,
Billie
I was telling some folks before I left for this adventure that I was really interested in finding out how the rest of the world reacted to Billie. I felt that in Phoenix and in particular where I work, I was insulated to a great extent. After all, after living as a woman full-time for 17 months, I have not received a single derogatory comment. I am already finding out and it’s just the first day!! First, some details.
The first leg of the trip took on a new priority when son Tony flew into Phoenix with a friend to move his stuff up to Denver. Since Tony was unable to borrow a truck, he asked if we would consider hauling a trailer up there for him. Unfortunately, there was no time to lollygag as both Tony and Thom needed to be at work on Wednesday. Toni D. and I figured we would have arrived in Denver in two or three days if we had stopped at all the places we were interested in seeing. :)
We had hoped to be on the road by 5:00 am, but didn’t get out until 5:45; not bad. The journey went well; the van performed flawlessly towing the massive trailer. The event of interest was the convenience stop on the Navajo reservation at Indian City. As I was paying for a candy bar, the clerk, a very nice lady, asked me, “So, you two are actually men dressed as women, is that correct?” I am sure she could hear the incredulity in my voice when I responded, “That’s not the way I would I put it.”
She was very kind and made it clear that she was simply curious and did not mean to offend. She asked how I would put it. I said, “I am just a woman.” She told Toni and me that she didn’t get out much and liked to take advantage of learning situations as they occurred at the shop. So, we talked with her for awhile, long enough to bring the boys in from outside to see what happened to us. I vowed that from here on out, I will lose the attitude and become curious myself.
Tony and and his friend, Thom are great kids. Tony drove for several hours so I could catch a little sleep. With all the stops needed for my aging bones and bladder, the trip took 17 and-a-half hours. When we arrived, I actually backed the trailer into a parking place at their apartment complex! I never thought I would be able to do that. I have to confess a few plants may have suffered. :)
We had an interesting experience when we arrived at the hotel. Toni and I arrived around 1:00 am and we were exhausted. Most guys, even the most selfish will help two women struggling with their luggage, if only to hold the door open. This guy, the night desk clerk, was sitting in a chair, in the lobby, a mere 20 feet from the front door, notebook computer on his lap watching the History Channel. Toni and I both were loaded down and could barely open the door. The clerk did not budge; twice.
I am not sure if he was lazy or indifferent or whether he had read us as “trans” and was translating his opinion of us into non-action. I suspected it was the latter when he started using male pronouns in reference to us. I told him I intended to file a complaint about his behavior; which really upset him. He called his boss, who apparently exonerated his lack of action. At the conclusion of the call, he simply smiled and said, “I hope you have a nice evening.”
I will file the complaint. As a customer, irrespective of my gender presentation, “hospitality” is simply good business and I am sure the higher ups at the hotel will be interested in knowing how this franchise treats their “guests.” I will be happy to share the name on the establishment upon request.
We will see Tony and Thom again, and Gina too, on Wednesday evening; then Gina has Thursday off so the three girls will rat around Denver all day. From here Toni and I will be on our own and for starters will head back down to Trinidad for a visit.
I have posted a short video on YouTube. It is the very first using my new camera and the sound is not great, but you get to see my wonderful son, Tony. More tomorrow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6xf0CzmFpA
Take Care,
Billie
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
They Got It Right
Anyone who has seen me knows I am not petite. This presents some problems in daily life, but one of the tough ones is getting an MRI. I am having trouble with a pinched nerve and need my cervical spine "magnetized." I found a place that may have a machine that can handle my weight and my girth. I notified my doctor and he faxed them over an order for the procedure.
They called me to make an appointment yesterday. There were a couple of questions; name, birth date and doctor so she could find the order.
"Ah, here it is," she said. "But they have you down as female."
"I am female," I replied politely. "Is there something there that would indicate otherwise?"
"No," she said and we proceeded to make the appointment.
It's true, I still need a lot of voice work. But the good news is, at least my doctor knows a girl when he sees one!
Take Care,
Billie
They called me to make an appointment yesterday. There were a couple of questions; name, birth date and doctor so she could find the order.
"Ah, here it is," she said. "But they have you down as female."
"I am female," I replied politely. "Is there something there that would indicate otherwise?"
"No," she said and we proceeded to make the appointment.
It's true, I still need a lot of voice work. But the good news is, at least my doctor knows a girl when he sees one!
Take Care,
Billie
Monday, August 17, 2009
On Community, Leadership and Transition
Hopefully, those of you who read this know me well enough to know that what I say here reflects what I see as reality. I try very hard not to be prejudiced against anyone. I want to see all Transgendered people live the life they desire. But we do live in a free society which means we need to be considerate of our fellow citizens. As the saying goes, my freedom stops at the tip of your nose.
Within the political realm, my primary concern is the transition of those who desire to live full-time as the opposite sex. I refer to them as Transsexuals. This is probably not a surprise, since I am a Transsexual and that is my world. I think fully transitioning into the opposite sex is the hardest road, with the greater challenges. I care for others on the Transgender spectrum, but I have limited resources and have chosen to put them where I think they will do the most good.
Regarding transition, I think it is fair to say that in today’s world, those that conform to society’s expectations for gender behavior have an easier time transitioning. There are still hoops, but the more I look, sound and act like a woman, the fewer issues I will have. Society assumes I am and always have been a woman. (I will be using my MTF transition for illustration in this essay.)
However, the more male cues I give off, the more suspicious people become. They think “women don’t do that” or “women don’t sound like that” or “women don’t have beards.” Their issue with me is not necessarily Trans related, but that I have not conformed to their expectation regarding the gender I am presenting and anytime anything doesn’t conform to what we expect, our initial reaction is suspicion.
Suspicion is often the spark that ignites distrust and hatred. I fear that legislation pushing self identified gender expression will result in society being overwhelmed by all sorts of folks flying in the face of Society's gender role expectations. I fear their suspicion will then grow to the point where MY transition, quite smooth to this point, is imperiled by the slightest miscue, one that would have been overlooked before the law. Now, because there is a guy with a three day beard and hairy legs who wants to wear a dress on Wednesdays and demands to be called and treated as a woman, everyone’s transition is harder.
Maybe the law will be on my side, but what good is that on a dark street, when the police don’t help or when you don’t have money for an attorney? Even if the law is passed, there is no such thing as equal treatment under the law for citizens, why would I expect to get it as a Transwoman? There will be immeasurable pain doled out by defensive individuals upon Transfolk who are either ill prepared or lack the resources to assert the rights they have been given by this law.
The law won't change circumstances. It only gives recourse if a Transperson is mistreated. One must have the resources to take advantage of that recourse, whether that be physical, mental, spiritual or financial. I would also not be excited that my fate would rest in the hands of a judge. I have seen too many judges decide against Transfolk as an exception to the law. Sure some will benefit, but at what cost to the rest of us?
The Benjamin Standards notwithstanding, we are not the same; though I hasten to add that none is superior. Just look around the community. There are Post-Ops who consider themselves completely female, their transition over and operate within society virtually undetected and undetectable. There are those who have apparently done all they can or will do regarding their transition, live full-time as a woman, but give off several male cues, voice, hair line, or facial hair. There are those that live as both male and female because they want to, are early in their transition or don’t have a choice due to health or relationship issues. There are full-time women, who look and act like women, but are Pre-op either due to age, health or money. And there are those that pretend to be Trans because they want a relationship with a Trans woman. And this list doesn’t cover the other gender variant possibilities.
The prejudice in our own community is a reflection of the gender role expectations of the society as a whole. The occasional anomaly aside, when we’re naked, there are just two biological sexes, male and female and they have been exclusive clubs for millennia. When U.S. society thinks about this issue, they go to the locker rooms and bathrooms first thing; they want to know what is between your legs. Women don’t want penises in their locker rooms or bathrooms. Men don’t want women pretending to have a penis in their locker rooms or bathrooms. When we’re dressed and behave as expected, there are few if any issues. But give off the wrong cue and there may be trouble. A law won’t change that, at least right away, and having recourse doesn’t prevent being assaulted in the men’s room or being ostracized at work by the ladies.
Finding a solution for all Tranfolk will be hard and I am not sure I have the answer. It has to start with a leadership team. I don’t have any idea how to bring that about, except to say that I think they need to be consensus builders, not head busters. The community meeting held in July was a start, but there has been no coordinated follow-up since. As a community we need to get committed if we want to have an impact. Debates in cyberspace don’t get it done. We need to be in the real world implementing a well designed plan. As a community we are all over the place, running from one issue to another like the Keystone Cops. We need to understand what our resources are, develop goals and put together the plans to meet those goals. The plan needs to be detailed and communicated to fire up people to get involved. Most importantly, we need to make constant progress.
We also need to understand ourselves. I think the effort to call us all the same ignores the fact that we are indeed different. I understand folks like me, who are compelled to live as the opposite sex, who want to be undetectable within society’s current gender expectations and are willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve that goal. I don’t understand some of the others. In any case, we need to understand the end game for each Trans “category,” what result are they hoping to achieve and design a strategy around that. No doubt some elements of those strategies will overlap and we can take advantage of that where it occurs.
I think our long term plan has to be changing hearts and minds. In addition to the one on one work many Transfolk do, we need to do large scale education to gain sympathy, tolerance, acceptance, and love. Stuff like the Banco Provincia commercial. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wu7nKR0t5zQ Such a campaign could be used to showcase the various Trans groups to emphasize our similarities instead of our differences, demonstrating that even the hairy legged dude in a skirt is just another person.
Here is where I go way off the beaten path. Short term, I would like to see us break away from the Gay community and focus on Transsexuals, those that want to live full-time as the opposite sex. I think the standards for transition need to much harder and much more realistic. I would like to see a standardized, nationwide transition policy that TEMPORARILY protects those that decide to transition while it establishes unified procedures to facilitate the change.
I see such a policy protecting the Transperson’s job, home and assets; forbidding discrimination on the basis of transition during the transition; requiring the medical community to establish detailed education materials, certifications for staff, and detailed care instructions; requiring the Transperson to declare a “default” biological sex and confirm their desire to identify in the gender role most closely associated with that sex; requiring the individual to have an assessment of what lay ahead for them and a realistic appraisal of their ability to assimilate in their target sex; building in safeguards to ensure the person is on the correct path and is committed to whatever is necessary to make the change; have a time limit for transition to occur and provide for certified exceptions to the policy for health reasons that may prevent a “complete” sex change. At some point, the transition ends and for all intents and purposes, you are your target sex, the transition protections end and you have to make your way in the world just like everyone else.
To me, something like this embodies empowerment. There is some assistance offered, something akin to the GI Bill that helped me pay for school, but the rest is up to us. We succeed or fail based on our commitment and level of effort and if we do fail, there is no one to blame but ourselves. “Pure” empowerment comes from within, from our internal “grit” and determination. The kind of empowerment I want comes from respect for myself; a respect that drives me forward to become who I want to be.
If that respect is not there, if the commitment to change is weak, then I question whether the change should be made at all. I am not sure I want laws that protect half-assed attempts or those who lack the determination to complete the journey they started and then expect me to still treat them as if they had. Each individual needs to own their transition and go into it with their eyes open. I would argue that most of us understood the price before we started and if we did, then we have no excuse for whining when it gets hard. If someone leaped before looking and is in over their head, I am certainly there to help them through, but I don’t see the need to change the rules for them. I don’t think we have the right to curse society for a standard that we knew was there before we started our transition.
At the end of the day, each of us needs to decide if the need to transition is strong enough to do it within the current environment. Do we have the discipline to obtain the resources and train ourselves to blend in with society or do we have the thick skin necessary to stand against the insults and assaults as we go up against society’s gender expectation. In either case, we need to generate empowerment within ourselves. The law doesn't keep me safe, only I and those around me can protect me. I think it's best to have society for us, not against us.
Within the political realm, my primary concern is the transition of those who desire to live full-time as the opposite sex. I refer to them as Transsexuals. This is probably not a surprise, since I am a Transsexual and that is my world. I think fully transitioning into the opposite sex is the hardest road, with the greater challenges. I care for others on the Transgender spectrum, but I have limited resources and have chosen to put them where I think they will do the most good.
Regarding transition, I think it is fair to say that in today’s world, those that conform to society’s expectations for gender behavior have an easier time transitioning. There are still hoops, but the more I look, sound and act like a woman, the fewer issues I will have. Society assumes I am and always have been a woman. (I will be using my MTF transition for illustration in this essay.)
However, the more male cues I give off, the more suspicious people become. They think “women don’t do that” or “women don’t sound like that” or “women don’t have beards.” Their issue with me is not necessarily Trans related, but that I have not conformed to their expectation regarding the gender I am presenting and anytime anything doesn’t conform to what we expect, our initial reaction is suspicion.
Suspicion is often the spark that ignites distrust and hatred. I fear that legislation pushing self identified gender expression will result in society being overwhelmed by all sorts of folks flying in the face of Society's gender role expectations. I fear their suspicion will then grow to the point where MY transition, quite smooth to this point, is imperiled by the slightest miscue, one that would have been overlooked before the law. Now, because there is a guy with a three day beard and hairy legs who wants to wear a dress on Wednesdays and demands to be called and treated as a woman, everyone’s transition is harder.
Maybe the law will be on my side, but what good is that on a dark street, when the police don’t help or when you don’t have money for an attorney? Even if the law is passed, there is no such thing as equal treatment under the law for citizens, why would I expect to get it as a Transwoman? There will be immeasurable pain doled out by defensive individuals upon Transfolk who are either ill prepared or lack the resources to assert the rights they have been given by this law.
The law won't change circumstances. It only gives recourse if a Transperson is mistreated. One must have the resources to take advantage of that recourse, whether that be physical, mental, spiritual or financial. I would also not be excited that my fate would rest in the hands of a judge. I have seen too many judges decide against Transfolk as an exception to the law. Sure some will benefit, but at what cost to the rest of us?
The Benjamin Standards notwithstanding, we are not the same; though I hasten to add that none is superior. Just look around the community. There are Post-Ops who consider themselves completely female, their transition over and operate within society virtually undetected and undetectable. There are those who have apparently done all they can or will do regarding their transition, live full-time as a woman, but give off several male cues, voice, hair line, or facial hair. There are those that live as both male and female because they want to, are early in their transition or don’t have a choice due to health or relationship issues. There are full-time women, who look and act like women, but are Pre-op either due to age, health or money. And there are those that pretend to be Trans because they want a relationship with a Trans woman. And this list doesn’t cover the other gender variant possibilities.
The prejudice in our own community is a reflection of the gender role expectations of the society as a whole. The occasional anomaly aside, when we’re naked, there are just two biological sexes, male and female and they have been exclusive clubs for millennia. When U.S. society thinks about this issue, they go to the locker rooms and bathrooms first thing; they want to know what is between your legs. Women don’t want penises in their locker rooms or bathrooms. Men don’t want women pretending to have a penis in their locker rooms or bathrooms. When we’re dressed and behave as expected, there are few if any issues. But give off the wrong cue and there may be trouble. A law won’t change that, at least right away, and having recourse doesn’t prevent being assaulted in the men’s room or being ostracized at work by the ladies.
Finding a solution for all Tranfolk will be hard and I am not sure I have the answer. It has to start with a leadership team. I don’t have any idea how to bring that about, except to say that I think they need to be consensus builders, not head busters. The community meeting held in July was a start, but there has been no coordinated follow-up since. As a community we need to get committed if we want to have an impact. Debates in cyberspace don’t get it done. We need to be in the real world implementing a well designed plan. As a community we are all over the place, running from one issue to another like the Keystone Cops. We need to understand what our resources are, develop goals and put together the plans to meet those goals. The plan needs to be detailed and communicated to fire up people to get involved. Most importantly, we need to make constant progress.
We also need to understand ourselves. I think the effort to call us all the same ignores the fact that we are indeed different. I understand folks like me, who are compelled to live as the opposite sex, who want to be undetectable within society’s current gender expectations and are willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve that goal. I don’t understand some of the others. In any case, we need to understand the end game for each Trans “category,” what result are they hoping to achieve and design a strategy around that. No doubt some elements of those strategies will overlap and we can take advantage of that where it occurs.
I think our long term plan has to be changing hearts and minds. In addition to the one on one work many Transfolk do, we need to do large scale education to gain sympathy, tolerance, acceptance, and love. Stuff like the Banco Provincia commercial. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wu7nKR0t5zQ Such a campaign could be used to showcase the various Trans groups to emphasize our similarities instead of our differences, demonstrating that even the hairy legged dude in a skirt is just another person.
Here is where I go way off the beaten path. Short term, I would like to see us break away from the Gay community and focus on Transsexuals, those that want to live full-time as the opposite sex. I think the standards for transition need to much harder and much more realistic. I would like to see a standardized, nationwide transition policy that TEMPORARILY protects those that decide to transition while it establishes unified procedures to facilitate the change.
I see such a policy protecting the Transperson’s job, home and assets; forbidding discrimination on the basis of transition during the transition; requiring the medical community to establish detailed education materials, certifications for staff, and detailed care instructions; requiring the Transperson to declare a “default” biological sex and confirm their desire to identify in the gender role most closely associated with that sex; requiring the individual to have an assessment of what lay ahead for them and a realistic appraisal of their ability to assimilate in their target sex; building in safeguards to ensure the person is on the correct path and is committed to whatever is necessary to make the change; have a time limit for transition to occur and provide for certified exceptions to the policy for health reasons that may prevent a “complete” sex change. At some point, the transition ends and for all intents and purposes, you are your target sex, the transition protections end and you have to make your way in the world just like everyone else.
To me, something like this embodies empowerment. There is some assistance offered, something akin to the GI Bill that helped me pay for school, but the rest is up to us. We succeed or fail based on our commitment and level of effort and if we do fail, there is no one to blame but ourselves. “Pure” empowerment comes from within, from our internal “grit” and determination. The kind of empowerment I want comes from respect for myself; a respect that drives me forward to become who I want to be.
If that respect is not there, if the commitment to change is weak, then I question whether the change should be made at all. I am not sure I want laws that protect half-assed attempts or those who lack the determination to complete the journey they started and then expect me to still treat them as if they had. Each individual needs to own their transition and go into it with their eyes open. I would argue that most of us understood the price before we started and if we did, then we have no excuse for whining when it gets hard. If someone leaped before looking and is in over their head, I am certainly there to help them through, but I don’t see the need to change the rules for them. I don’t think we have the right to curse society for a standard that we knew was there before we started our transition.
At the end of the day, each of us needs to decide if the need to transition is strong enough to do it within the current environment. Do we have the discipline to obtain the resources and train ourselves to blend in with society or do we have the thick skin necessary to stand against the insults and assaults as we go up against society’s gender expectation. In either case, we need to generate empowerment within ourselves. The law doesn't keep me safe, only I and those around me can protect me. I think it's best to have society for us, not against us.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
What's in a Name?
I was at the hair salon this afternoon; a little place in Mesa that I go to with a friend from work. Clara (not her real name), the owner, is a lot of fun, has a million great stories and does my color perfectly. What she doesn't do very well is remember my name.
When Clara addresses me, about half the time she calls me "Bill." She never knew Bill, never saw Bill; my first appointment was well after I went full-time. She knows I am transitioning; my thinning hair, bald spot and struggling girl voice made it inevitable that she would find out. Still, how she can look at me with my hair plastered down with yellow goo, wearing a black, bra-less, V-neck tunic, black capri's, pink lipstick and hoop earrings and call me "Bill" is a trifle puzzling.
Clara is not the only one who calls me "Bill." I have a close friend of over 20 years who has stood beside me from day one although he doesn't understand what I am doing. When we meet for lunch I sense he has one foot outside his comfort zone ready to run, but he doesn't. He told me he is not comfortable calling me "Billie." I admit that I secretly hope "Billie" will one day be comfortable for him. Until then however, I will answer to "Bill" from this dear friend.
My Mother's boyfriend calls me "Bill" all the time. I am not sure if it's due to old age or orneriness. My two brothers are pretty good, until we start drinking and then "Billie" pretty much goes out the window. When she was alive, my sister Kate never missed, but then she called me "Billy" most of our adult lives. My kids call me Dad, but I'm not sure that counts. Hell, even my mother slips up now and again and calls me "Bill." But in fairness, as kids she would often call for one of us by shouting, "BillySteveKateAndy, get in here NOW!" It was easier than remembering whom she actually wanted.
In contrast are those that never miss; the folks that knew me as "Bill" for three, four, twenty- five years and have been able to make the transition. There are also those who never knew Bill, but know my history and address me flawlessly from the outset. Maybe it's a skill they possess, maybe they're detail people, or maybe they understand the importance of getting someone's name right.
I am not good with names, but I am pretty sure I don't bounce back and forth between "Clara" and "Clarence" while my obviously female hairdresser blows out my cut. This is a phenomenon that seems unique to the Transgender Community and the non-trans folks we interact with. I want to be sensitive to those that are taking this journey with me, give them time to adjust and let it sink in that my name is different. I must admit however, the longer it takes my non-trans colleagues to get my name right, the more annoyed I get and the more I suspect there is more to it than a slow adjustment.
Don't get me wrong, I don't expect non-trans folks to understand the significance of the name change to us within the community. That wouldn't be fair. Most are simply unaware of the joy we feel, the sense of accomplishment it brings and how it helps us identify to the world who we have been all our lives. How sweet it is the first time you hear yourself called by "your" name!
So what is in a name? For us in the Trans community it represents a new life, a true life and life wholly our own. Maybe it's a little unreasonable to insist that our non-trans friends adapt quickly in this area, but it is important. This rose does not go by any other name; my name is Billie and I will be grateful if you will remember that.
Love always,
Billie
When Clara addresses me, about half the time she calls me "Bill." She never knew Bill, never saw Bill; my first appointment was well after I went full-time. She knows I am transitioning; my thinning hair, bald spot and struggling girl voice made it inevitable that she would find out. Still, how she can look at me with my hair plastered down with yellow goo, wearing a black, bra-less, V-neck tunic, black capri's, pink lipstick and hoop earrings and call me "Bill" is a trifle puzzling.
Clara is not the only one who calls me "Bill." I have a close friend of over 20 years who has stood beside me from day one although he doesn't understand what I am doing. When we meet for lunch I sense he has one foot outside his comfort zone ready to run, but he doesn't. He told me he is not comfortable calling me "Billie." I admit that I secretly hope "Billie" will one day be comfortable for him. Until then however, I will answer to "Bill" from this dear friend.
My Mother's boyfriend calls me "Bill" all the time. I am not sure if it's due to old age or orneriness. My two brothers are pretty good, until we start drinking and then "Billie" pretty much goes out the window. When she was alive, my sister Kate never missed, but then she called me "Billy" most of our adult lives. My kids call me Dad, but I'm not sure that counts. Hell, even my mother slips up now and again and calls me "Bill." But in fairness, as kids she would often call for one of us by shouting, "BillySteveKateAndy, get in here NOW!" It was easier than remembering whom she actually wanted.
In contrast are those that never miss; the folks that knew me as "Bill" for three, four, twenty- five years and have been able to make the transition. There are also those who never knew Bill, but know my history and address me flawlessly from the outset. Maybe it's a skill they possess, maybe they're detail people, or maybe they understand the importance of getting someone's name right.
I am not good with names, but I am pretty sure I don't bounce back and forth between "Clara" and "Clarence" while my obviously female hairdresser blows out my cut. This is a phenomenon that seems unique to the Transgender Community and the non-trans folks we interact with. I want to be sensitive to those that are taking this journey with me, give them time to adjust and let it sink in that my name is different. I must admit however, the longer it takes my non-trans colleagues to get my name right, the more annoyed I get and the more I suspect there is more to it than a slow adjustment.
Don't get me wrong, I don't expect non-trans folks to understand the significance of the name change to us within the community. That wouldn't be fair. Most are simply unaware of the joy we feel, the sense of accomplishment it brings and how it helps us identify to the world who we have been all our lives. How sweet it is the first time you hear yourself called by "your" name!
So what is in a name? For us in the Trans community it represents a new life, a true life and life wholly our own. Maybe it's a little unreasonable to insist that our non-trans friends adapt quickly in this area, but it is important. This rose does not go by any other name; my name is Billie and I will be grateful if you will remember that.
Love always,
Billie
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Validation
I just scrapped a rather scathing piece brought on by a friend telling me her parents had disowned her after telling them she was transitioning from their son to their daughter. But before I hit the "publish" button, I received a link to a 16 minute video on YouTube titled "Validation." I decided to write instead to those that have been abandoned by their loved ones.
I want you to know that you are a beautiful person and I love you. I don't love you because you can do something for me, although you give me more than I can express, I love you because my God loves me. He loves me simply because I am, no matter what I am and he does not require I love him back. Thus I love you the same way.
I love you because you are remarkably strong, so much stronger than others. You endured a raging battle in your inner self for years, even decades, but you moved forward despite the lack of victory. You cried silently night after night for fear that if you told, you would be thrown away. In the morning you dried your tears alone and began again.
You have a beautiful smile, a "truth" smile that can only come from your heart of hearts. A smile that cannot be denied because of the sweet freedom you experience today having married the image in your mind with the image in your mirror. You no longer wake up in a lie, but in the truth and that truth brings a happiness that is seen by one and all. It is your aurora of magnificence.
I love you because you know the meaning of sacrifice. Not the pitiful displays of so many, but true sacrifice of self and soul for others. In deference to others you postponed your heart's desires and even now, you defer so much of who you'd like to be out of consideration for the thoughts and hearts of those that have decided to travel with you in transition, giving them time to adjust and see you through new glasses.
I love you because you are courageous. When the time came to choose, you chose to be yourself despite the cost you would have to bear. Parents, spouses, children, relatives or friends, all who at one time or another had professed their love for you found this simple act of truth beyond that love. You wondered if even God hated you. In the face of this rejection, you walked into your new life, born again true.
I love you because you know what really matters in life. That respect and good character are much more important than what a person looks like. That love and generosity are more valuable than gender and a true friend is worth more than gold. You know that all of the Law and the Prophets are summed up by this one saying, "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you."
With all my love,
Billie
I want you to know that you are a beautiful person and I love you. I don't love you because you can do something for me, although you give me more than I can express, I love you because my God loves me. He loves me simply because I am, no matter what I am and he does not require I love him back. Thus I love you the same way.
I love you because you are remarkably strong, so much stronger than others. You endured a raging battle in your inner self for years, even decades, but you moved forward despite the lack of victory. You cried silently night after night for fear that if you told, you would be thrown away. In the morning you dried your tears alone and began again.
You have a beautiful smile, a "truth" smile that can only come from your heart of hearts. A smile that cannot be denied because of the sweet freedom you experience today having married the image in your mind with the image in your mirror. You no longer wake up in a lie, but in the truth and that truth brings a happiness that is seen by one and all. It is your aurora of magnificence.
I love you because you know the meaning of sacrifice. Not the pitiful displays of so many, but true sacrifice of self and soul for others. In deference to others you postponed your heart's desires and even now, you defer so much of who you'd like to be out of consideration for the thoughts and hearts of those that have decided to travel with you in transition, giving them time to adjust and see you through new glasses.
I love you because you are courageous. When the time came to choose, you chose to be yourself despite the cost you would have to bear. Parents, spouses, children, relatives or friends, all who at one time or another had professed their love for you found this simple act of truth beyond that love. You wondered if even God hated you. In the face of this rejection, you walked into your new life, born again true.
I love you because you know what really matters in life. That respect and good character are much more important than what a person looks like. That love and generosity are more valuable than gender and a true friend is worth more than gold. You know that all of the Law and the Prophets are summed up by this one saying, "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you."
With all my love,
Billie
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Spousal Support - A Comment on "Where Art Thou Support for Spouse?" by Lori D
On her blog, "a T Revival," Lori D posted a note titled, "Where Art Thou Support for Spouse?" She garnered a lot of comments and I thought I would share some of my own.
I think anyone who wants support should be able to get it. Whether support for family members should come out of the Trans* community is debatable and I am not going to deal with that here. And that's because I think the need for spousal and family counseling will all but disappear as it is a need unique to older Transfolk such as I.
What need there may be for family counseling is born from the fact that when we were making life decisions in our teens and twenties there was no one there to counsel us. Thus, we made our decisions based on the configuration of our bodies, not our minds and those decisions set off a cascade of issues and unhappiness extending far beyond ourselves. It was inevitable we would need to face the truth and its repercussions, though we refused to acknowledge it until it became a matter of life or death. By that time in our lives, hurting the ones we loved the most became inevitable as well.
Thank God things are different today. Information on Gender Identity Disorder is abundant and instantly available. Organizations such as Trans Youth Family Allies and Parents, Families and Friends of Gays and Lesbians are providing education and assistance that make it easier and safer to explore, understand, find and follow one's true self. Perhaps of greater significance is the "old guard" is dying off being replaced by younger generations that do not share their judgmental phobias and hatred. The end result of all this will hopefully be better life decisions and less collateral damage.
I think if we were open and honest with each other, we would find that most "Trans* Spouses" knew a hell of a lot more about what was going on in their marriage then they were willing to admit. That they had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate that the love they had for their spouse was greater than the problem before them. But when they went looking for that love, it wasn't there, it never had been. No amount of counseling can create love, especially a love willing to sacrifice for another. When I see a couple still together after transition, I thank God, because it is a rare and beautiful thing to behold.
Take Care
Billie
I think anyone who wants support should be able to get it. Whether support for family members should come out of the Trans* community is debatable and I am not going to deal with that here. And that's because I think the need for spousal and family counseling will all but disappear as it is a need unique to older Transfolk such as I.
What need there may be for family counseling is born from the fact that when we were making life decisions in our teens and twenties there was no one there to counsel us. Thus, we made our decisions based on the configuration of our bodies, not our minds and those decisions set off a cascade of issues and unhappiness extending far beyond ourselves. It was inevitable we would need to face the truth and its repercussions, though we refused to acknowledge it until it became a matter of life or death. By that time in our lives, hurting the ones we loved the most became inevitable as well.
Thank God things are different today. Information on Gender Identity Disorder is abundant and instantly available. Organizations such as Trans Youth Family Allies and Parents, Families and Friends of Gays and Lesbians are providing education and assistance that make it easier and safer to explore, understand, find and follow one's true self. Perhaps of greater significance is the "old guard" is dying off being replaced by younger generations that do not share their judgmental phobias and hatred. The end result of all this will hopefully be better life decisions and less collateral damage.
I think if we were open and honest with each other, we would find that most "Trans* Spouses" knew a hell of a lot more about what was going on in their marriage then they were willing to admit. That they had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate that the love they had for their spouse was greater than the problem before them. But when they went looking for that love, it wasn't there, it never had been. No amount of counseling can create love, especially a love willing to sacrifice for another. When I see a couple still together after transition, I thank God, because it is a rare and beautiful thing to behold.
Take Care
Billie
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thank You Dr. Becky
I had a routine visit with the doctor yesterday and he decided I needed to have some tests run. The first will be a colonoscopy. The doctor gave me a referral and they had an opening today for the preliminary visit.
I always feel a little apprehensive going to a new doctor; I have heard so many stories. Although it is still hard for me to believe, there is no denying that a few in the medical community are not happy to see us. I never quite know how to broach the topic that I am Trans; I even have the vain hope that I won't have to. And then there are the medical forms and all the questions; the one that always stops me dead in my tracks is, "when was your last menstrual cycle?" I leave that one blank.
The nurse practitioner came in and started going over my medical history and reviewing the forms. We went over the cancers in my family, my abdominal surgery and my medications; vitamins, low dose aspirin, acid blocker, blood pressure meds and hormones. Check, check, check. I took a deep breath, "There is one more thing that I should probably mention," I said. I took another deep breath, "I wasn't actually born a woman," I said.
The nurse didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I know," she said.
Before I could ask how in the world she knew, she continued. "The orchiectomy and the hormones were pretty much a dead giveaway."
"Duh!," I thought.
She went on, "The nice thing about your colon is that is doesn't care what gender you are. Everyone has a poop hole."
And then the world got very small. She said that a number of years ago as a young nurse, she worked for a Cardiologist that I may know and she asked if I had ever heard of Becky Allison. "Dr.Becky?" I said. "Of course" as a big smile lit up my face. "We're friends on Facebook!"
"Well, there ya go," she said. All of the sudden I felt right at home.
One never knows how you are going to touch someone's life and what fruit that touch will bear. Thank you Dr. Becky for your help today so many years ago.
Take Care,
Billie
I always feel a little apprehensive going to a new doctor; I have heard so many stories. Although it is still hard for me to believe, there is no denying that a few in the medical community are not happy to see us. I never quite know how to broach the topic that I am Trans; I even have the vain hope that I won't have to. And then there are the medical forms and all the questions; the one that always stops me dead in my tracks is, "when was your last menstrual cycle?" I leave that one blank.
The nurse practitioner came in and started going over my medical history and reviewing the forms. We went over the cancers in my family, my abdominal surgery and my medications; vitamins, low dose aspirin, acid blocker, blood pressure meds and hormones. Check, check, check. I took a deep breath, "There is one more thing that I should probably mention," I said. I took another deep breath, "I wasn't actually born a woman," I said.
The nurse didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I know," she said.
Before I could ask how in the world she knew, she continued. "The orchiectomy and the hormones were pretty much a dead giveaway."
"Duh!," I thought.
She went on, "The nice thing about your colon is that is doesn't care what gender you are. Everyone has a poop hole."
And then the world got very small. She said that a number of years ago as a young nurse, she worked for a Cardiologist that I may know and she asked if I had ever heard of Becky Allison. "Dr.Becky?" I said. "Of course" as a big smile lit up my face. "We're friends on Facebook!"
"Well, there ya go," she said. All of the sudden I felt right at home.
One never knows how you are going to touch someone's life and what fruit that touch will bear. Thank you Dr. Becky for your help today so many years ago.
Take Care,
Billie
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Blessings
As I was getting ready to leave work tonight, I received a call from a colleague I had not spoken with for over a year. We finished our business discussion and somehow got on to my transition. We talked for over an hour as I shared history, stories and feelings. When we hung up, I was smiling; in telling my story, I was reminded just how blessed I am.
I was blessed when my sister said to me, "I finally have the big sister I've always wanted." She was the first family member I told. I was blessed when my two brothers said, "You go bro...er dude...er gal...er Sis...you know what we mean!" I was blessed when my Mother gave me a place to stay after my spouse asked me to leave. I am still staying at her place which has trapped her in Des Moines for two very bad winters. I was also blessed by my friend, a former pastor, who responded to my announcement by saying, "First, you need to know that you are and always shall be my friend."
I was particularly blessed by my three children. They didn't know it at the time, but they held within their hearts the power to stop me in my tracks. Now that I was out, the consequences of not transitioning were too dark to contemplate. But the consequences of never seeing my children again were darker still. Thankfully, that was a choice I never faced. All three said the same thing, "Do what you need to do to be true to yourself. You will always be our Dad, we will always love you." And so they have.
My transition has had its rough spots; the divorce was hard, some of my pre-Trans friends have not spoken to me since I came out and I have endured some complications from transition related surgery. Still, the surgery has healed and I am reconnecting with other old friends that despite being stunned by my announcement, are managing to put that behind them even if they don't fully understand what I am doing.
The trials are not over, but neither are the blessings. The trials don't last, the blessings do; especially the blessing of waking up every morning as Billie.
Take Care,
Billie
I was blessed when my sister said to me, "I finally have the big sister I've always wanted." She was the first family member I told. I was blessed when my two brothers said, "You go bro...er dude...er gal...er Sis...you know what we mean!" I was blessed when my Mother gave me a place to stay after my spouse asked me to leave. I am still staying at her place which has trapped her in Des Moines for two very bad winters. I was also blessed by my friend, a former pastor, who responded to my announcement by saying, "First, you need to know that you are and always shall be my friend."
I was particularly blessed by my three children. They didn't know it at the time, but they held within their hearts the power to stop me in my tracks. Now that I was out, the consequences of not transitioning were too dark to contemplate. But the consequences of never seeing my children again were darker still. Thankfully, that was a choice I never faced. All three said the same thing, "Do what you need to do to be true to yourself. You will always be our Dad, we will always love you." And so they have.
My transition has had its rough spots; the divorce was hard, some of my pre-Trans friends have not spoken to me since I came out and I have endured some complications from transition related surgery. Still, the surgery has healed and I am reconnecting with other old friends that despite being stunned by my announcement, are managing to put that behind them even if they don't fully understand what I am doing.
The trials are not over, but neither are the blessings. The trials don't last, the blessings do; especially the blessing of waking up every morning as Billie.
Take Care,
Billie
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A New Rainbow
I imagine almost everyone has seen a rainbow. Its beauty is obvious. Most of us know that a rainbow is caused when raindrops, acting as a prism, break down the white light of the sun into its "spectrum" of colors. I had to look up how many colors are in that spectrum. It turns out there are seven colors, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. That's also the order in which the colors appear in a rainbow from the outer arc to the inner arc, determined by their individual wavelength.Last Saturday night I saw something I had never seen before; it was a new rainbow, one with well over a dozen colors in its spectrum; and I understand there are far more colors that were simply not visible that night. This night, illumination was not from the sun, but from the lamps inside a hotel conference room and the "colors" were the organizations represented by over twenty participants that had gathered there for an historic meeting.
The eclectic group was called together by Mischelle De LaFreniere, whom most of you know very well. She is a significant voice in the Trans Community whose contributions are numerous. Among the organizations attending were Arizona TransAlliance, TransMentors International, TransEquality Arizona, Equality Arizona, Transgender Harmony, This is H.O.W., M-Spectrum, Southern Arizona Gender Alliance, Central Arizona Gender Alliance and TransYouth Family Allies. There were more, but I couldn't write fast enough to get them all down on paper. I have never known this many different Trans organizations to be in the same room together, except at a major conference. I figured there would be a lot of energy, but would it be smoke or fire?
It was fire! After our discussion leaders finished walking us through some exercises, we saw that the diversity of our various missions and directions was a tremendous strength. We realized that working on different pieces of the challenges before the Trans Community was efficient and we did not always have to agree on methods or mission to be effective. We agreed that the other groups represented were not competitors, were not to be feared, but instead complimented our work allowing each group to focus on a particular challenge instead of many.
Of almost greater importance was the realization that together, we have significant resources at our disposal, resources that could be shared and thus provide an exponential benefit to the Community. Whether that sharing is the knowledge of a sale on paper or a recent legal brief on Trans marriages, we could be much stronger, more efficient and far more valuable to the Trans Community simply by sharing our knowledge, research, experience and expertise with one another. As the meeting closed, the group was beginning to work on the mechanics of how to implement this break through concept.
Of almost greater importance was the realization that together, we have significant resources at our disposal, resources that could be shared and thus provide an exponential benefit to the Community. Whether that sharing is the knowledge of a sale on paper or a recent legal brief on Trans marriages, we could be much stronger, more efficient and far more valuable to the Trans Community simply by sharing our knowledge, research, experience and expertise with one another. As the meeting closed, the group was beginning to work on the mechanics of how to implement this break through concept.
The excitement was high as we broke up to head home. Each organization was satisfied that their mission and their methods were secure, that the years of work would continue as it had. But there was a new spirit, a new knowledge, and a new understanding that these organizations would soon have a means to facilitate unprecedented cooperation, allowing them to work together whenever the situation calls for it.
Take Care,
Billie
Friday, July 10, 2009
Welcome to BJ's Building Blocks
Welcome to BJ's Building Blocks!! I hope to do a lot of things here, but primarily I want to provide a safe, positive environment where our diverse community, friends, allies and opponents can share, learn and discuss the complex issues we face today. We should be able to ask tough questions and air our differences in a non-combative setting where each participant knows their opinions, hopefully expressed with grace, are valued. We may run against the grain sometimes but I will do my best to maintain a site known for its style, grace and humor. It is my fervent prayer that items here will never become a test of fellowship, but simply provide a basis for fruitful exchange. I am certain to miss the mark on occasion, but please know I am going to do my best. For now, there is no set schedule, no set subject matter; I plan to range wide guided by my heart and sometimes my sense of humor. I am not here to change anyone, only to present one side of the story and allow you a place to present another. So relax, it is not necessary to defend yourself, but if you like, feel free to share what's on your mind.
For this inaugural post, I will share some guidelines that I would like all of us to strive for. These are a hodgepodge of my own thoughts and those gleaned from other sources. They are not rules. If these guidelines are observed, I think we can have a wonderful place that will add value to our Community and impact the world around us. So, get your blocks, grab a cookie, find a mat and let's review.
- Treat everyone with courtesy and respect. Take the high road, always.
- Remember your manners.
- Read posts carefully (listen) and don't read too much into the words.
- Ask questions, do not assume.
- Think before you write, then write what you think, then think it over, then write it over.
- Personal attacks are NEVER appropriate; not even in response to an attack. Take it offline.
- No one is all right or all wrong so season your words carefully, you may have to eat them.
- Facts are facts and can be verified.
- Everyone is entitled to their opinions and has the right to express them.
- Feelings are illogical, they just are. They may need to be explained, but never justified.
- Actions are not feelings and always require justification.
- It is OK to disagree and be friends
I welcome your comments and will actually be delighted to engage in healthy, even spirited discourse. But please, check emotions at the URL and come prepared to rationally discuss your thoughts. I relish the opportunity to learn from you, but I admit that I have no patience for ad hominem drivel or verbosity for verbosity's sake. Don't be too disappointed if I remain somewhat intractable in my thoughts. Age has a tendency to stiffen things, including my neck. In any case, I hope we can be friends.
Take Care,
Billie
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