How's The Transition Going?

 

Generally speaking I really enjoy when people ask me how the transition is going.  Who doesn’t like to talk about themselves? It is hard for me to really pinpoint a start to my transition since it has been a very gradual process, so I’m going to focus on the time since I started publicly living in a gender aligned way. “Being out” came after years of private experimentation/exploration and work with therapists specialized in “gender issues.” 

One of my favorite parts of transitioning is the change in the way women interact with me. I love clothes, always have. I love the way women dress and often compliment them when there is something about their ensemble that I like.  As a male presenting person this usually got an “oh thanks” and frequently made women visibly uncomfortable. Now that I present as more feminine I get a totally different reaction. Often times a simple “cute shoes” can lead to a twenty minute conversation and some great recommendations. Many of the women I interact with seem eager to share the secrets of woman’s fashion and help me figure things out. I love that I have shifted from creepy man to interested “sister.” These small affirming moments are some of the best parts of my day. I’ve always heard so much about how competitive and mean women are to each other. Luckily, I haven’t reached that moment yet. So far I’ve experienced a community and sisterhood that is sweet, enjoyable, and affirming.

Another monumental shift for me has been the comfort with my gender. Most of my life my “gender,” that is my expression of a male form has felt forced and uncomfortable. I’ve struggled to find the right way to be a man. Now I don’t have to worry about that. I get to buy and wear whatever I want. I love my clothes and my outfits. I love putting pretty ribbons and hairbands in my hair. More importantly, I exist in whatever way feels natural. I am no longer having to live up to some ideal of what a “man” ought to be. I am defining my own existence and living authentically as myself. I just do whatever feels correct to me. For so much of my life gender has occupied a massive amount of my attention and energy. I am sure I still think of gender more than your average cis person but it is much less effortful and less painful for me.

Now when we talk transition we need to talk cross hormone therapy right. – I LOVE my hormones. The last time I saw my doctor she said that my hormones are now testing in the ranges considered typical for women. This has been life changing in so very many ways, most of which are positive. One of my favorite things the hormones do for me is soften my skin and face. Most of my life I have avoided mirrors. When I did look in mirrors I tended to focus on certain aspects; so as to not have to take in my visage as a whole. For years I mostly just looked at my beard when I looked into the mirror – I knew myself as my beard. Watching myself over zoom all day long was one of the worst parts of the pandemic and one of the things that pressured me to finally transition. Nowadays when I see myself in the mirror I actually go “Wow I’m pretty!” I’ve even started speaking kindly to myself in the mirror. Depending on the time of day, if it’s late in the day I think – ok Marcy get off your ass and get electrolysis already. Although, I have to say I still think I am pretty even with a 5 o’clock shadow – which grows much slower than it used to.

I have experienced emotional changes too. I feel things much more strongly and quickly than I used to. This is nice. Now if you ask my wife, she will tell you I am more moody, and let’s face it, she is probably right. This, though, is not my experience of myself. I feel much more at peace and happy. I think this is likely due to setting down burdens I didn’t realize I was carrying. One comment I frequently made to my therapist was “You don’t realize how heavy burdens are until you set them down.” I plan on writing an entire post about dysphoria so I will simply say here that l am no longer at war with myself and the peace I feel from that is at times incomprehensible. I notice when I forget my medications. I’ve come to see Testosterone as a foreign substance poisoning my body and mind. I hate forgetting my androgen blocker.  It’s worth all the Gatorade cravings.

I feel I would be remiss if I did not discuss all of my bodily chances.  I have always wanted breasts. When I was younger I’d sneak into my mom’s room, put on her bras and stuff them, just to see how I looked/how it felt. This was not the experience of a phantom limb but an intense longing. Breasts are a visible indicator of one’s femininity. I wanted to be a member of that club. These days I am low key obsessed with breasts. Not in a creepy sexual way but in an “I’m going through puberty and experiencing new things” way. Having breasts now makes me feel very feminine and even – sexy. One thing I have noticed is that my breasts are not outside of the norm. While no one would call my breasts large by any means, they are not insignificant. And the thing I am really starting to notice is that there are many women in the world with breasts close to the size of mine. I used to consider myself a feminist and woman’s ally. I used to be an advocate for all body types. Now it feels way more personal. I want to take my shirt off and start the revolution. Shout at the top of my lungs and “We are small breasted women. We are sexy! And we will not be ignored or belittled!”

Someday I’d love to sit down and be like “So you’ve got little boobs like me, how’s that been for you.” I want to bond with women about this part of womanhood-share in my new exciting development if you will. I blush to think about that though. Perhaps it is my male upbringing but it feels entirely too inappropriate to bring up breasts. Sigh, alas I have no idea how I would navigate that conversation or even start it. This is one of the strange things about transition. I am almost forty – middle aged – AND I’m going through puberty. I doubt that most of the women in my circles spend much time contemplating their breasts. I mean their breasts are old, old news by now. It is strange and strangely lonely to go through this massive transition in such an asynchronous way.

I also find myself having strange trans insecurities about my body as it is stuck between two worlds/genders and may never fully exist in either world. My legs and arms are seriously hairy and I really don’t care to fight that fight. Were I born with cute girly hair I’d definitely leave it alone. The obvious contradiction here is that I’m “all woman” up top and “all man” down below. This can be awkward in public spaces such as locker rooms – my top belongs in one changing room my bottom in the other. I have no idea what to do with that – run, hide, and avoid the situation as best as I can. I like to take my kids swimming at the Murray pool. They do not have a family locker room and they require you to enter through the locker rooms. I cannot avoid this, so I just run through the men’s room as fast as I can. I am not sure when I’ll need to start running through the women’s room. At the moment people still seem to gender me as male; I honestly don’t know why – maybe my voice.  

Regardless of any of this, my body is my own and I have never been so happy with it or felt so incredibly comfortable in my own skin. I tear up just thinking about it. My body is bold and beautiful and Queer and it is mine and I will love it all day long. And I will fight anyone who dares to shame me for this beautiful body of mine. Her and I have been through so much and it has taken me a lifetime to love her and I will cling to my body positivity – hairy ass and all – until my dying day.

One of the contradictions about Transition is how it is simultaneously incredibly personal and profoundly public. I’ve traded my own comfort for other people’s comfort. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life silencing myself and forcing myself to be something I am not in order to ensure other peoples’ comfort and thus their acceptance of me. I gave that up when I transitioned. I decided to be comfortable with myself. While I am happy with who I am and how I present, I now have to deal with the way my appearance and existence affects others. Frankly, this is their issue and not mine. Never-the-less, they always seem to find ways to make it my issue.

This is not my first experience in breaking social norms and being different. Indeed one might say that my spirituality has aided in providing a stepping stone when it comes to appearing different. Prior to transitioning I kept a spiritual practice called “Kesh” – meaning I did not cut any of the hair on my body.  As part of this practice I also wore a dastaar, which is a type of turban. As a pre-transition masculine bodied person this meant I had a very large bushy beard and a turban. Many of you reading this will remember this version of me. As you can imagine, this look frequently turned heads. These interactions tended to be polite and friendly if not a little stand offish. Usually I would notice someone noticing me and I would give them a reassuring smile or wave. As if to say hello neighbor I am friendly and in no way an angry terrorist. They would than smile or wave back and on we would go on our separate ways. Now when I catch people noticing me they tend to avert their eyes and pretend to not have been looking. Either that or they scowl at me when I smile or wave. Now a days my reassuring smile tends to say things like “Don’t worry it’s not contagious.” Based on my experience, people are much more accepting of spiritual/religious difference than gender divergence.

Guru Gobind Singh 

In the five years I rocked my Sikh warrior look, I only recall one patient who took issue with it. It was a farmer from Idaho who initially refused to meet with me. The rest of the treatment team at the time talked him into giving me a try. At the end of our work together he said to me “You know when I first saw you I didn’t want to work with you but then the MD convinced me to meet with you and I am really glad I did.” There were issues at the VA – this was typically something I heard about indirectly. Usually veterans making comments in the waiting room. A lot of times someone would say something demeaning and another vet would stand up for me with something like “hey that’s my doctor don’t talk about them like that!” Once I started a group therapy session and a veteran did come at me with “You know me and my buddies spent years fighting and dying against that turban.” I replied with, “You sure it was this turban? Lots of Sikh dudes hanging out in Iraq when you were there” and that was literally the end of that – we moved on and discussed distress tolerance. He was a vital member of that group and I like to think that he benefited from his time there.

Somehow gender is different. I have people ask to be assigned a new psychologist to work with. I even get people who refuse to work with me. I have had people who would rather leave the hospital against medical advice (which entails the insurance company declining to pay and you having to pay thousands of dollars out of pocket) than work with me. This to me is a very interesting scenario; these people know they are being rude, they know that what they are doing and asking breaks social rules. Never-the-less they feel entitled/empowered enough to make the request/demand. Seldom if ever to my face. Usually they will speak to my team members either the MD or social worker on the case or even go everyone's head to talk to the supervisor. Luckily, I work at an amazing place with amazing people. My employer and my co-workers have always had my back; often times they find this request more upsetting than I do. They always defend me, insisting that patients need to work with the team they are assigned.  Also while we’re on the subject, hello wonderful co-workers who read this. It touches me that you folx follow me here. I love my job and the thing I love most about my job is you, amazing co-workers. Thank you for always having my back and for making a tough job so enjoyable.

The thing is I knew that this was going to happen. I discussed things like this at length with trusted colleges and therapists prior to coming out. I know that I work in places where people are assigned to me and do not choose me. I know that this means that people will be uncomfortable having to work with me and I choose that. Back in South Texas at the VA I had a wise colleague give me some of the best advice. I have hung on it to ever since. She was an amazing African American psychologist who was on the DBT team with me. Imagine a woman of color in a position of authority in the south; yes she was that bad ass. Her example inspires me.  I had asked my consultation team their thoughts on whether I should breach the topic of my dastaar/general appearance prior to starting groups. I was feeling self-conscious knowing that many people would misunderstand and misjudge my appearance. She shared experiences she had had with veterans taking issues with being treated by a black doctor. Her advice to me was “You don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you are. This is their problem.”

I studied a lot about the dastaar before I started wearing one. Yogi Bajan, the teacher responsible for me waring a turban, explained: (I paraphrase) When you wear all white and you wrap your head you serve as a mirror. You offer that service to your fellow human. You show them all that is inside of them. Earlier in the spring I attended “the dance for all people” - a Native American Naraya ceremony. While there I talked to a tribal elder/medicine man who is also a psychologist/therapist. We discussed carrying other people reactions to me and he quoted Pima Chodron.  Saying that other people’s reactions are energies projected at you and it is your privilege to eat that energy and use it for yourself.

I used to internalize all of this angst and vitriol. All the venom and hate that people have for me, I used to feel that way about myself. Therapeutically we call this internalized homophobia or internalized transphobia. Transitioning and coming out has required me to embrace who I am and to confront my own internalized hatred. Before I could even transition, I had to love myself enough to give myself permission to be openly who I was, knowing that I would have to be exposed to bigotry and hatred for it.   One of the deep realizations that inspired me to transition was that that hatred was there all along. I could choose to carry it within myself or I could stop taking responsibility for other peoples’ prejudice and say “here this belongs to you, it isn’t mine”. Above all else, this is the best part of transitioning. I no longer have to hate myself. I no longer have to feel ashamed and guilty. I don’t have to confess my dark secret to a bishop or romantic partner. I can openly embrace myself and be freely and unabashedly who I am. This is what pride is all about and why pride is so important. It is a self-affirmation, a manifestation of self-love and radical authenticity that says “No matter how much you hate I am here – I am Queer – get used to it.” This is the powerful reality behind all the statistics showing transition decreasing suicide rates. Transition allows self-love and self-acceptance in ways that conversion therapy and religion cannot even begin to come close to.

 So how is the transition going you ask?  Well dear friend it is beautiful! I am beautiful. It is bitter and sweet and there are highs and lows. More than anything it is the best choice I have ever made.