Archive for December, 2009

In 1969, when I was a 7th grader, the song In the Year 2525 was at the top of the charts for six weeks (confession: I googled it to both find the date and number of weeks). I just listened to the song on You Tube. I have to confess that after listening to the lyrics, I almost didn’t write this entry.
The song paints a bleak picture of the future of mankind, looking at the dehumanization of the species. It is really a very haunting song. I’m sure people take different things from it, and that mine is different from what might have been intended.
I believe in evolution. I don’t just mean the kind that says we came from apes or something like that, although my limited understanding of science certainly seems to lean in that direction. I don’t see that belief as being contradictory to the belief that there may be a higher spirit…what many people call G-d (as an aside I don’t write that three letter word. Some Jews decide not to, as an honor to G-d, even though there is no real religious reason not to use the “three letter word” for the creator).
For however long we have been around as a species (I’m not even sure that word is right, as my science in college was a geology course, meaning that I can now tell you when something is a rock…I just can’t identify what type of rock!), we have been evolving from what we have been to what we are becoming.
Some of that is what we call “progress.” Now, instead of killing someone with a spear, we do so with bombs. On the other hand, our prenatal and natal care can now save babies who would have died 100 years ago. We have cures for diseases that would have been deadly 100 years ago, and yet cures for other deadly diseases elude us…and new ones seem to pop up (think AIDS).
Evolving is a mixed bag. The auto provided us with mobility, which translates to many people moving thousands of miles from where their families…and yet a staggering amount of Americans still live within 100 miles from “home.”
I guess that the purpose of this entry is to make an obvious statement: that while we have made progress over the past decade, we still have a ways to go…and that not all the “progress” is necessarily good.
I wonder. In 50 years, will gender constructs be gone? Will most men feel free to spend huge amounts of money to wear stiletto heels with knock out dresses? I doubt it…gender roles may blur a bit, but it seems as if there is some sort of a continuum, with most men on what I would call the masculine side of the teeter-totter, and most women on the feminine side. Some may move towards the middle, but for most of us, we stay on our side.
Do we have more gay and transgendered individuals now than we did 100 years ago? Even 50? 20? I don’t know if that is the case, or if we are just allowed to be more open today.
Does the internet create more transpeople or just allow us to not live in isolation? That is my theory…but I know others would dispute that.
We still live in a society where a boy going to school wearing a dress is likely to come home with bruises or worse. We still live in a society in which EMTs may stop treatment of a transwoman if they discover that she is pre-op. We still live in a society where bumper stickers proclaim that G-d made “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”
It is still more dangerous to be gay or lesbian than straight. In many states, it is okay to fire someone based on that basis. In even more states, it is okay to terminate a transperson. We still face the potential of violence from individuals “repulsed” by us. We still face violence by those who are “turned on” by “doing” a “trannie.”
The optimistic part of me wants to believe that we are headed towards the day where ENDA won’t be needed…but since a woman still earns less than her male counterpart, I doubt it is coming soon. The bottom line is that we can have a limited effect on change…and it is up to us to decide if we have the courage (stupidity?) to work to make it happen.
In the meantime, we need to accept ourselves for who we are. As one of my heroes in the T movement says, “say it out loud, I’m T and I’m proud.” Although I’m not proud of being a T (that would be like being proud I’m left handed…I didn’t really have anything to do with it), I am not ashamed of it. I have to be me…as each of us does. I hope for a better world…and I work towards creating the

Although many members of our community may disagree with me, most of the hoops we have to jump through in following the Standards of Care (SOC) are easy compared to the challenges we face in acceptance. I think of acceptance as being like an onion…many layers of acceptance, rather than a banana, with one layer. In fact, it may be like a tootsie pop, but since I have actually never had a tootsie pop (a confession I make with embarrassment) that takes a while to get to the “center.

The first layer, for me, began with the acknowledgement that I am, indeed, a transsexual. I’ve always known I was different…in elementary school I fixated on the words sissy and effeminate in the dictionary…my only real source of information about the topic, since the Encyclopedia Britannica didn’t have any meaningful information. In junior high and high school, I spent time researching “change of sex” in the big green Guides to Periodical Literature books, and spent time in the library stacks reading the very limited information.

Even with that, I didn’t accept the fact that I was (am) a transsexual. Did I want to be a girl? Yes. Did I dream of waking up some morning and discovering that G-d had fixed the “problem between my legs?” Again, the answer is yes. Did it ever occur to me that the problem was between my ears…that I needed to be deprogrammed? No. I knew I was a girl, but I didn’t really accept that was okay. It wasn’t until well into therapy that I was able to admit that, not only was (am) I a transsexual, but that I am okay with that…internally.

The next level of acceptance we seek is from family and friends or from the ability to pass. I know these are really two different levels, but I am not sure which comes first. For some of us, myself included, being able to walk through a mall or try on a cute outfit comes before seeking acceptance from the majority of our friends and family. Having the belief that you won’t “always be read” is important in gaining confidence to go on. It comes in spurts. You may be followed by boys at the mall or giggled at by a group of preteen girls, but at some point you gain a little more confidence and feel a bit more accepted.
On the family and friends side, things get harder. I would guess that most of us have lost some family and friends because of this issue. In my case, my dad can’t accept who I am. His acceptance would be helpful to me, but I need to work through this knowing I won’t get it. Lacking the acceptance of a parent is difficult, and it makes acceptance by others more critical. Some of us are lucky enough, brave enough, or whatever, so that this portion doesn’t bother us. We say that we just go with those who accept us, and screw the rest. In a way, I envy that sort of attitude. I just can’t do it.

In the absence of true acceptance by those in our lives who are important to us, we either find the internal strength and/or find new support. Some of us attend support groups. I’ve never thought of myself as a support group type of girl. For one thing, the closest real group is over an hour and a half away. Second, I rationalize that I have enough friends who accept me, so I don’t need it. The fact that none of those friends know exactly what it is like to be trans doesn’t seem to sink in to me.
After we transition, (warning: this portion deals only with post ops or those living FT), we need to be able to integrate. We must learn to accept ourselves completely. For some this means seeing themselves as women, not as transwomen. For others it means embracing the fact that we are transpeople. What it is, however, is a letting go of what “was” and becoming what “is.” It is embracing the new you, and it is easy for some and more difficult for others.

The bottom line, is that if you don’t come to true acceptance, you will not find happiness…either in transition, not transitioning, having surgery, not having surgery. Acceptance is key. The challenge is that key has to open a lot of doors…and you have to be willing to explore them all…and to be willing to have some of them slammed in your face. In the end, it is worth it…at least it has been for me.

I started writing this entry about a month ago, but other topics came up, and I just put this one on the back burner…now I’m going to refine it a bit.  This week has been one of reflection.  I had a therapy session on Saturday, a special session to address my concerns regarding transition.  I share most of the common herstory of transgendered M2Fs, including that with Mike Penner/Christine Daniels.  That is why her death hit me so hard.

As I’ve written earlier, my dad can’t (won’t?) accept me for who I am.  As long as I present male to him, things are fine, but he doesn’t care to see Tina.  When I complete my transition (hopefully sometime during 2010), that is going to mean he just doesn’t get to see me.  I may try to make one more visit to him before that happens

We face enormous societal challenges by being transgendered, whether we hide it from the world or not.  If, as I did for the first 40+ years of my life, we hide it we face the stress of living in a gender that we are unable to feel completely comfortable with.  Our degree of discomfort can lead to self-destructive behavior, sadness, depression, and even suicide.  If, on the other hand, we select to transition, we face the three R’s of ridicule, rejection, and repulsion.

Okay, so we all have paradigms about what we believe is “normal.”  To a large extent these are based on our own experiences.  As an example, I have a hard time understanding F2Ms.  Why would a woman want to become a man?  I mean, I understand it is the reverse of what I have felt (I am not THAT stupid), but I can’t understand why anyone would want to give up being a woman.  I am sure that there are F2Ms who are puzzled as to why I would want to give up male privilege.  Each of us is seeing things through our own lenses.

As much as most people, I am a slave to the binary gender system.  I like to believe that I’m not, but the reality is that even if I think of gender as a continuum, I feel that people “land” somewhere in that range.  So, if one is basically mostly male, that is where you land…I can’t easily understand how one can be hyper male one day and girly-girl the next.  So, I have trouble understanding gender f##kers.

My point, and I do have one, is that it is difficult to get past our paradigms.  Additionally, if we don’t at least identify and admit that they exist, we will never be able to understand them.  I am now trying to understand the M2F trans-whatever who feels the need to wear fishnet stockings and six inch heels, along with a mini-skirt.  It may not be (it isn’t) my cup of tea (I prefer a long skirt or pants, along with much lower heels and/or flats),   That doesn’t make me “right” or the other person “wrong.”  It simply makes each of us different from each other.

When we try to fit people into the “boxes” we create with our own paradigms, we are doing to them exactly what we don’t like in others who label us as “freaks.”  While I (and others) may wish to just be referred to as being a woman (without the trans), there are others who are proudly transwomen.  Both are okay, but some of us feel more comfortable with being identified by one term.

As Joel Barker, in his book Paradigms: Business of Discovering the Future, points out, our paradigms are valuable to us…an example being a stoplight.  My hope would be that you will stop at a red light…that is my paradigm.  It is when those paradigms are used to make others feel less than…to be made to feel like freaks…that they are bad.  Personally, I believe we need to challenge our paradigms.  While you won’t see me at a drag show (I am uncomfortable with them), I respect those who participate in them and those who attend…even as I am uncomfortable with it.

When I encounter a 50-something cross-dresser who feels the need to wear a mini-skirt, I’ll try to understand that this person is just expressing who s/he wants to be at that moment.  When my father rejects me, I will try to understand that he is a prisoner of his own belief system…and I will love him through the pain.

This entry, like most of mine, is an attempt for me to work through my own issues.  If it is helpful to anyone, that is great…but that isn’t the major point…at least for me.  More later.

In case you haven’t gotten the news, Mike Penner/Christine Daniels died this past week. Reports are that the individual committed suicide. As one who has had friends do the same, I am deeply saddened by the event. What is even more saddening is that we will never be able to put any real meaning to it. We won’t know what caused the individual to take this drastic action.

Two things you should know: 1) Mike/Christine had transitioned, publicly, as a sports reporter for the LA Times before retransitioning this past year; and 2) I have gone through a similar retransition (I am now working my way back to being “me”)  . When you take these two items together, I am not afraid to say that I was deeply shaken by the news.

Several years ago, unemployed and facing the grim reality that my savings were evaporating, I contemplated suicide. In fact, I was committed for observation at a mental health facility for three days (during which time I was able to convince the doctors that I wasn’t suicidal). I got through that episode, which happened less than two years after one of my friends (non T) killed herself by driving her car into the path of a semi.

So, I speak with a little “first hand” knowledge about the subject of suicide…even though I never made a serious effort…unless you call being taken into custody while having written a suicide note and having a noose with me (I have never owned a gun). I am being honest here, even though these memories are terribly painful to me.

What scared me about this recent suicide is that I identify with the individual. I had an unsuccessful transition. Evidently, for whatever reason, so did Mike/Christine. You may note I can’t bring myself to use a pronoun. That is because I can’t use “she” even though the individual was living in male mode at the time of death. And, I can’t use “he” because I don’t know the reason for the retransition.

What I do know is my story. Transitioning and having SRS was not a “mistake” for me. It was the right thing to do. Retransitioning was exceptionally difficult for me, which is why I considered suicide prior to doing it. I felt that, given a choice of suicide or retransitioning that going cross dressing and cross living as a male was the right thing to do.

The suicide “shakes me up” because I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can continue the masquerade. It is becoming increasingly difficult to present as male at work, and living the rest of my life as me. I don’t want to get to the situation where the tension between the two reaches a point where I “snap.”

I am very fortunate in some ways. I have several very loving friends and a cousin who cares about me greatly (I also have a dad who wants nothing to do with Tina, but that is another story). My therapist presented me with a question: if I needed to call someone to help me at 3 in the morning, who would I call? I could think of five people. One lives in Colorado (my cousin), but the other four are near me. I feel blessed. I have promised them that, if I ever feel suicidal again, I’ll call them. They have pledged to help me and to be there to provide whatever support they can.

I do not write this because I am suicidal. Instead I write it to provide hope. I made it through my dark hours…and I continue to. The inspiration should be that we can make it through. I believe life will (and is) getting better. I have faith that I have made the correct decisions in my life. I continue to work to be a better me. I am saddened by the loss, but I’m going to choose to remember a person who had the courage to publicly admit to being transgendered. That is the person I choose to admire.