In the midst of recent tragedies involving gays, I hope I can bring you a small bright spot.

Last week I was in Los Angeles attending the annual Workplace Summit hosted by Out & Equal Workplace Advocates. I was one of six representatives sent to the Convention Center in downtown LA by Intel Corporation who has supported Out & Equal since day one.

Out & Equal champions safe and equitable workplaces for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people. They advocate building and strengthening successful organizations that value all employees, customers and communities. The conference was four days of inspirational speakers, workshops, seminars and most importantly the fellowship of all those LGBT folks and Allies. (Well, there was also the “bling.” I now have a dozen tote bags, twenty five or thirty pens, tons of note pads and half a dozen coffee cups.)

The conference had 114 corporate sponsors and was attended by 2,410 company representatives, records for both. In addition to Intel, I saw folks from IBM, Accenture, Aetna, Dow Chemical, Inuit, Clorox, New York Life, Boeing, Northern Trust, Citi Bank, Microsoft, Chrysler, and dozens more. These companies have policies ingrained into their corporate cultures designed to bring about a non-threatening workplace for LGBT employees as well as providing benefits for Domestic Partners and Transgender healthcare.

It was quite an experience for me, not only in what I learned in the sessions I attended, but to see how such a diverse group of individuals can work together for the common good of our community. It renewed my hope that there are other options out there for service; that I can find and work with people interested in building bridges with respect and kindness. I had given up hope of finding such an opportunity. Tonight I am reinvigorated.

What does all this mean? To me, it shows that corporations are leading us into an age of greater acceptance. They understand the value of diversity and use it to their advantage and we reap benefits as well. They are doing this while showing respect for the beliefs and traditions of all their employees. Even now, companies are looking to future policies regarding Transgenders who desire to remain fluid in their presentation, more male on one occasion, more female on another. I suspect it will be Corporate America that finds answers that will meet the needs of this newest generation while remaining thoughtful over the concerns from non-LGBT men and women.

And a note to those Transgenders that curse the Human Rights Campaign; read the article I have highlighted below. It will revolutionize health coverage for Transgenders within the corporate environment.
http://www.hrcbackstory.org/2010/10/hrc%e2%80%99s-new-corporate-equality-index-requires-removal-of-exclusions-to-transgender-healthcare-and-benefits/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HrcBackStory+%28HRC+Back+Story%29

Are these companies completely free of harassment? Unfortunately no. As long as we are dealing with people, there will be misunderstandings and hate. What they bring is exposure and education. I was approached by a coworker recently who wanted to thank me. She had no idea what life was like for many LGBT folks. Through my transition and stories, she was motivated to find out. She is now a dedicated Ally. Through their policies, companies are bringing about the opportunity for us to change hearts and minds. People learn that even the most flamboyant in our community are not a threat and are deserving of the love and respect due every human being.

I am so fortunate to work for Intel Corporation and proud that they are such a dedicated supporter of workplace diversity. Whether it is LGBT, religion, race, creed, color or gender we work together, side by side and in the process gain understanding and respect for each other.

Take Care,
Billie

The Worst Kept Secret

On the first visit to my therapist, I was given a questionnaire to complete. One of the questions was, “What is your sexual preference?’ Without hesitation, I wrote, “I want to be a girl.”

And thus it has been for decades. In every fantasy or dream I’ve ever had correcting nature’s disconnect, the measures taken were always complete; the transformation provided the missing internal organs, removed the surplus and added a tittle on that Y chromosome to make it an X. Of course there was also the fabulous figure, great cleavage, stunning gams and thick luxurious hair. :) Sadly, transformation technology that is actually available, regardless of the cost, is a lot less capable.

In regard to my own, real world Transition and Transgenderedness, my ideal state is living my life, fulltime as a woman without ever being “detected” as being born or having lived male. For my personal happiness, I don’t need a “fantasy” transformation to achieve that ideal state. I would have no problem living with the knowledge that I still had a Y chromosome and a prostate and that I didn’t have a cervix, uterus or ovaries. However, to be ideal, those items could never be detectable by others. Unfortunately, that’s not possible, at least not for me. The unexpected, the unforeseen will ensure that someone will know; someone will find out, eventually.

If I had begun my transition in my teens or even early 20’s, I might feel differently. Although the physical issues would still exist, there would be far less “male history” to undo. As it is, I have too much past to elude. Even if I tried to out run it, it would eventually find me. And as things omitted are wont to do, I’m sure they would pop up at the most inopportune times. People feel deceived when they find you’ve omitted key details of your life story and it doesn’t seem to matter that you had good reasons for doing so.

Anyway, I am tired of secrets and I am tired of wondering if the warm smile and happy greeting would change if people knew I once had a penis.

Thus I have come to realize I shall never achieve my ideal state and that’s OK. Bill will never be completely gone. He is the occasional glimpse from the corner of my eye, the not-quite-forgotten thought on the tip of my tongue, that “feeling” that I’m being followed. It may be a comfort to many that a portal to Bill exists; that he lives still and is happy to wander the hills and dales of that past life; that Billie, a benevolent host to a beloved symbiote willingly animates Bill’s existence, bringing it to life with pride and gratitude. After all, though not always apparent, they have been together a very long time.

Is my dream then shattered; that dream to live my life, full-time as woman? A realistic look at my life revealed that everyone I know knows I am a Transsexual. Family, friends, friends of friends, FB friends, co-workers, doctors, hair dressers, nail techs all know; if not from the start, eventually, either from me or someone else. Perhaps the important question to be answered is this, if I am treated like a lady, does it matter that they know I was once a man?

When “just the girls” go to lunch, when my son holds the door for me, when the dermatologist says I have beautiful skin, when I’m chatted up in the ladies room or when my brothers call me “sis,” does what they know about me matter? Should I be concerned about what they might be thinking? I think the answer is “no, it doesn’t matter.” What matters is how we treat each other in spite of what we know.

In fact, it’s better that they know. Then their caring for me is genuine, done with the knowledge of who I am, who I was and who I want to be. There are no illusions for them, no assumptions, only loving interaction despite the truth. They know I once had a penis and despite any uncertainties, they look past them to the person I am, the person I want to be and interact with me on that level. Which, coincidentally, is the level I have always dreamed of achieving; to live my life, fulltime as a woman. And in a very real and practical sense, when I am surrounded by these people who know me and still interact with me as a woman, I am for all intents and purposes, undetectable.

And that my dears, is ideal.

Take Care,
Billie

Vaya Con Dios

I saw something today that delivered a right cross square on my jaw and knocked me lower than the Dead Sea. I have been in an emotional nose dive for a couple of weeks now, so it only took a moment for this to speed the descent.

It should not have affected me so. My reaction was most probably an over-reaction. There is no knowing if malice was intended. Maybe it wasn’t because I had decided to live as a woman, but a dozen other, unrelated reasons. Perhaps it was expediency, maybe forgetfulness or perhaps I had misjudged this person all along. Only the author of the deed knows for sure. Still, it got to me.

It’s been three years since I came out. It is unfortunate that we live in a society and time that is filled with mistrust and hate. It was mistrust and hate I feared enough that I kept to myself. It is mistrust and fear that drive some to call me liar and fraud. The best among us seek to bridge that divide. I have done what I can with the rest.

The past is hard to cut loose; especially when the events, places and people hold special meaning. I have wanted to restore the damaged relationships so those memories might be shared. But my decision brought out the disease in some of those people and it is time for me to move on; for my own good, for my own wellness. I can do nothing with them or for them. As it is, a restoration was only important to me thus my departure won’t even be noticed.

These people are no more or less flawed than I. I do not condemn them. I have simply come to the point where I have no use for them and no need of them.

Good-bye

Billie

A Good Cry

It still startles me when I experience a sudden emotional rush. You know, like when you stop by the grocery store after work, just for a few things and you’re debating the value of paying $14.99 for a pair of tongs because they have pink tips and all-of-the sudden without any warning whatsoever, you burst into tears. It’s a gusher of emotion rising from your gut so fast the tears are running down your cheeks before you even know you’re crying. You barely stifle the audible wail, but there is no concealing the deep, deep sobbing.

It’s turn-toward-the-display crying while you dig through your purse for a tissue and in your mind you’re screaming wtf, wtF, WTF!! Dab a cheek, dab another cheek, blow the nose, follow-on eruption and the flow begins again. “Where in the hell is this coming from??” Digging for a dry tissue, a quick survey to see if anyone is staring. Thank God, no. “Get a hold of yourself, girl.” Dab a cheek, dab another cheek, blow the nose take a breath; another breath and then two more. You begin to move again, eyes down because you know your mascara is a mess and your eyes are all red. The search begins.

Maybe it’s because 21 years ago today my Dad died. Or that a week from Sunday it will be two years since my baby sister died. I miss them. I miss all my family.

Could it be I’m tired of watching my friends getting kicked to the curb by their “loved ones?” Or the gossip and backstabbing that goes on in the so-called “community” of Transfolk?

Could be the job; it changed recently and won’t be nearly as much fun as before. People are already saying that I am not my “old self.”

Perhaps it’s the constant battle with food. Every waking minute of every day all I do is fight the urge to eat. I’m fat, out-of-shape, fighting an infection and ragweed is in bloom. Could be.

Maybe it’s all of the above; I really don’t know. I guess you don’t need a reason to cry do you?

I can tell you this; I’m going to make a cup of tea, pull out the guitar and sing sad songs.

And have a good cry.

Anyone got a tissue?

Take Care,
Billie

I don’t write on Transgender topics very much anymore. I live my life as a woman these days. Nonetheless, I did go through a transition; a phase where I changed the life I lived in the “real” world to match the life I had always lived in my heart and in my mind’s eye, Fortunately, there were many, many people who did everything they could to make that change a wonderful experience.

This past weekend was an anniversary of sorts. I began my transition on the first weekend in August, 2007. But the reason for my nostalgia is the announcement I received at work that “Jack” was beginning a new life as “Jill” (not the real names) effective July 27th. It is a time of joy and celebration in the office, as it was with my announcement. It has always amazed me that a group of relative strangers, my coworkers, have consistently been so loving, so accepting and so supportive.

I am obligated to say that I am not an official spokeswoman for “MyCo.” These are my thoughts alone. Though many that read this know where I work, I do not have permission to name the company, so I won’t. Still, their efforts should be applauded. My transition at MyCo remains one of the best experiences of my life.

MyCo’s culture is one that prizes diversity and the right of employees to make personal decisions in their lives. Diversity expands our thinking and fosters innovation. MyCo believes that our work environment should be safe and healthy, free from harassment, intimidation and discrimination. Knowing not everyone will make the same personal choices, MyCo doesn’t ask those who disagree to change their beliefs, but simply be courteous, respectful and professional. I have yet to have a single negative experience at MyCo since my transition. I wish I could say the same for the rest of my world.

I transitioned from Bill to Billie at MyCo in April, 2008 after three and a half months of preparation. In addition to my manager, there was a team of people from Human Resources, Legal, Security, Benefits, and Occupational Health. People from each of these departments were tasked to find and solve any issues that might come up in my transition as well as figure out how to let everyone know what was going on.

April 7th, Executive Management was informed and my HR records were updated to my new name and gender. April 8th, I met face-to-face with the individuals I was closest to. April 9th my e-mail address was changed and over 450 e-mails were sent announcing that “Bill McReynolds will take the name of Billie McReynolds as she transitions from male to female.” April 10th I got my new ID badge and April 14th, after 15 years at MyCo, Billie reported for her first day at work. I have included the photo taken to commemorate the event.

I received abundant e-mails and personal visits for days afterward. They not only expressed congratulations to me, but pride that we worked for a company that would go to such extraordinary lengths for a single employee, one out of thousands. With Jill’s announcement I was reminded of how wonderful it felt to walk those familiar aisles as Billie. Nothing else was changed; I sat in the same cubical, belonged to the same teams, worked with the same people and they were all able to make the transition with me. I am still amazed by that and still hold that sense of pride in MyCo.

Congratulations Jill; I know your experience will be every bit as wonderful as mine.

Take Care,
Billie

Hay Siempre Mañana

At a meeting the other day I mentioned that I was closing in on sixty years old. Later, I was approached by several folks who told me I did not look anywhere close to sixty; mid-forties tops.

It’s wonderful what estrogen has done for my skin. But there is a down side. It feeds into a notion I have that there is plenty of time before I “have” to get healthy. Sure, the body sends me little messages to the contrary; small aches and pains, bladder infections, a weird rash on my ankle and high blood pressure. But half a dozen prescriptions keep all that in check, feeding the illusion there is yet still time to get the life I really want and live into my eighties. “Hay siempre mañana,” there is always tomorrow.

But a fresh coat of paint doesn’t do jack if the wood underneath is rotting. At any moment, despite the best attempts at detection, my body could send me a new reminder of my lengthy abuse; a stroke, heart attack, diabetes, cancer or God knows what; a message beyond the reach of “take two and call me in the morning.”

I can imagine my despair; all those todays I pushed into mañana now unobtainable, the bridge between them having collapsed. I can’t see myself as the brave convalescent; dedicated to arduous and painful therapy to recapture a small fraction of mobility or speech or cognition. I would likely sit in my chair, sipping a drink, watching television and wondering what was for dinner.

Much like the life I have now.

Hay siempre mañana.

Take Care,
Billie

Hurley

I heard something the other day that intrigued me. The person said that we carry our fate with us; that circumstances don’t affect it, only we can change our fate by changing who we are.

My earliest memory of being ridiculed for being fat is the 3rd grade. During elementary school, my parents put me on diets. My father would punish me if the scales didn’t show a reduction. I wore “husky” jeans, often several inches too long so the waist would fit. In high school, I had the nick name Billie Moon because my face was round and chubby. My self image was fat because everyone around me said I was fat.

Adulthood brought no relief. Controlling my weight was a constant struggle; in the Army, in the dating scene, to fit into my wedding suit, as a partner, as a father and now as a divorced woman. Since the late 80’s, it has been a losing battle; most of that time spent over 400 pounds. The 50 years since my first “hey fatso” appear to support the notion that we carry our fate with us regardless of the circumstances. There is nothing we can do; there is no place we can go that will change fate.

Even losing more than 100 pounds didn’t change my fate. I have done that three times since 1989. The latest loss was 185 pounds in 2001. But by Christmas, 2003 I was over 400 pounds, again. Fate has cursed me with some morbid propensity and plunked me in the middle of a society that deifies food and has no shortage of same. And now I have the additional burdens of age, gravity and estrogen conspiring to seal my fate unto death do we part. Perhaps I should accept the inevitable and surrender, get one of those electric scooters and ride into the sunset and a double-wide casket.

Perhaps I would except for Hurley.

In the television series “Lost,” Hurley believes he is cursed with bad luck since winning a lottery. The “curse” controls his life. In an inspiring scene, Hurley and friends find an old VW Microbus, but the battery is dead. Hurley hopes to jump start it by rolling it down a steep hill and popping the clutch. It’s a dangerous gamble. Nonetheless, Hurley flips fate the bird with faith that he can get the van to run. As the Microbus hurdles down the hill, Hurley says over and over, “There is no curse, we make our own luck.” You can watch the scene at the YouTube link below.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwZOmB9Fi30&feature=PlayList&p=28849ED323C7D9FC&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=24

It’s time to make my own luck, tell fate to FO and start living thin, live the life I want, fight through the pain and fatigue and do the things I want to do, be who I want to be; right now, today.

There is no curse.

Take Care,
Billie