Marcy's Musings

One of my professors in graduate school once told us all “Politicians use research the way a drunk uses a lamppost-more for support than illumination.” In the years since then, I have continued to reflect upon this humorous pearl of wisdom and have found it to be a truism. False-hood/ “The Tobacco strategy” have been so effective that it has become nearly ubiquitous. As such, it should come as no surprise that these tactics have been implemented in the “debate” over the validity of Trans identities. I have had several friends and family members, and sometimes strangers on the internet ask me to help them navigate their way through one article or another that they have found concerning social contagion, side effects of puberty blockers, conversion therapy or any other litany of Trans related “hot topics.” Some people are genuinely well meaning and seeking out my expert guidance as they try to figure things out. Others utilize these false-hoods as support for their anti-trans opinions. T...

  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...

  Today I hope to tackle what is to me a very serious and important issue. America’s relationship with science and how this impacts the debate surrounding so many topics but in particular the validity of Trans identities and Trans rights. Pictured above is my academic regalia. This is my academic uniform and just like military uniforms; it tells observers everything they need to know about my “rank” and standing in the community. My status as a doctor is denoted by the three velvet stripes on the sleeves and the long ornate hood. The gold and purple are the school colors of my Alma matter and the blue signifies that I was awarded an academic PhD – as opposed to an applied doctoral degree (Psy.D.). Thus, my hood is an immediate symbol of my authority as an academic expert; as well as the institution who authorized me as an expert in my field. The folklore I learned about this regalia is that it dates back to the middle ages when most arcticians and academics wore hoods to signif...

One of the earliest memories I have is of watching “The Princess Bride.”   There is scene at the end of the movie where Princess Buttercup clad in a beautiful fowling gown jumps from a window into the waiting hands of Fezzik the giant. She floats like a feather dress draping behind her, the camera slows to show the true beauty of the moment. She took my breath away. To my toddler brain, that was the pinnacle of beauty. I did not want to possess her as a man would. No, I wanted to be her. My heart and soul resonated with her beauty, grace and strength – that was who I wanted to be. The tough princess in the beautiful gown. As a small child I often found myself identifying with powerful, beautiful women. One of my personal favorites was Glenda Good witch.   I’d much rather be a buttercup or Glenda over a Wesley or a Wizard. This was just my sense of who I was. It has always been there. I never made a conscious choice. This resonance with mystical femininity has always been a par...

I’d had a stomach ache most of the day. I just needed a moment to be sick – finally I stole a moment. The only gender neutral bathroom was clear on the other side of hospital far away from my office. I stood, momentarily Transfixed. Looking at the two bathrooms, I glanced at the one with the “man” on the door. I knew this bathroom-I’d used it for years. Then again, I am wearing a skirt today—my mind wandered back to a few days ago. Watching a man do a double take as he was walking into that bathroom at the same moment I was walking out. I’m not sure how people perceive me anymore --- I feel like I look pretty. Yet I’m still getting misgendered frequently. Somehow the “boy” bathroom no longer felt safe for me. Even if I was gendered as male I was a male in a skirt – something that has never been safe. – Sigh--- Ok take a deep breath. I tentatively pushed open the door to the “girl” one. Nobody inside --- it’s one stall and a sink. This feels safe. I take a chance, hoping I’ll be unnotic...