Reborn

I celebrated my first birthday this week. Sure, I’ve logged more than a single year on this earth, but this past year was Andrea’s first year of open existence, so it really was a first birthday celebration. I come from a religious tradition that speaks of being born again and though I’m not sure where I stand in regards to that tradition spiritually, this description accurately describes my experience this past year. I feel like I am unfolding myself in so many different ways, expressing parts of my identity that I’ve repressed for a long time, not surprising since I had repressed my core identity during that time. I feel alive again. I feel like a butterfly that’s finally able to spread her wings and radiate her beauty to the world. I’ve been reborn.

My birthday reflected that. The day was fantastic from beginning to end. Dear friends filled my day with love, laughter and joy. I danced. I was treated to many more drinks than I’m used to (and offered more than I could accept!) Scrumptious brownies made by a beautiful friend tempted me to eat far too many of them. Most importantly I felt completely wrapped up in the warm embrace of people who love me and whom I love. I have so much to give thanks for: a new job, a supportive and loving family, an amazing group of friends, the opportunity to give of myself to others, good health, the joy of expressing myself through dance. The sky seems bluer, the air fresher. My lungs breathe in the fragrance of life each day. What a wonderful feeling. I’ve been reborn.

I know that difficult times still lie ahead. The challenges won’t suddenly evaporate forever. But I feel like I’m starting a new stage of the journey. I’ve been passing through a dark valley for quite some time, but the light shines ever brighter. Life flows through me. I’ve been reborn, and it’s a wonderful feeling. It’s time to radiate that life to the world.

Finding Work

Nearly three months ago I lost my job due to my transition. When my employer became aware of it they very carefully avoided firing me but created a hostile atmosphere in which I could no longer work. After much internal struggle I chose to walk away for the sake of preserving my mental, emotional and physical health. Unfortunately, my experience is all too common. Nationally transgender people enjoy no blanket legal protections for employment. In many states employers may terminate an employee because of their gender identity without any legal concern, or refuse to hire someone on that basis. Our status in the eyes of the law remains very muddled and ambiguous, leading to high rates of unemployment and workplace discrimination. (This article describes many of the challenges we face as transgender people seeking employment.) The federal government has taken proactive steps to change policies and attitudes, but cannot change the basic status of protecting transgender rights without congressional action, which remains extremely unlikely in the current Congress.

With this bleak picture I set out on my search for a new job. The job market in my region remains weak, which makes finding work difficult for anyone. When you approach the challenge with the added twist of being transgender it becomes even more daunting. Throughout the process I wondered how potential employers would respond when the met me in person. How would new coworkers receive me? Would I find a job I could enjoy and a welcoming, affirming workplace environment?

I consider myself very fortunate to have finally found a job at all. My fortune goes much deeper though, in that I landed at an employer with an actively affirmative policy on diversity. My new coworkers welcomed me warmly and positively. The atmosphere is welcoming and affirming. I won’t quite say it is my dream job (I still haven’t figured out what that would be) but in terms of the possible scenarios, I could not have asked for a better situation. After a month of working at the organization as a temporary worker I will transition to full-time regular status next week.

I wish I were not an exception to the general employment situation facing transgender people. I am thankful for the opportunity I have, but I want to see the laws changed so that we receive the same basic civil rights that others face. It’s bitterly ironic to me that many of those who would deny us full civil rights come from religious backgrounds. They already enjoy the advantage of having their religious views protected and would now use their privileged position to deny equal protection to others. It’s time for a change and I remain hopeful that we will see it happen in the near future.

  

Misgendered

A few weeks ago while working at the wine shop where I have a part-time job, a customer came in wanting several bottles of wine for a party she was having that evening. I introduced myself and began to assist her in her selection. After finding several bottles she indicated that she wanted me to call my boss, the shop owner, to talk with her, so I summoned her to the front of the store. The two of them talked about the purchase while I continued to bring other bottles as requested by the owner to fulfill the customer’s wishes. She purchased several bottles so we collected them into a box for easier transport. At this point the owner asked the customer if she could help her carry the box out to the store. The customer looked directly at me and said “I was going to have him help me.” My boss graciously said she would help her and they left the store. I felt demeaned, because I had told this customer my name, she had seen that in every way possible I present myself as the woman I am and despite this she chose to look me in the eye and refer to me as “him.” We call this “misgendering” and it happens all the time for transgender people.

Some people misgender me by accident. This happens most often on the phone because my voice does not present as quintessentially feminine, but when I introduce myself to the caller as Andrea, I do expect them to recognize that this is a female name and interact with me accordingly. Some people have known me for a long time and struggle to transition their pronoun usage. My own mother is in this category, though her support has been total and unconditional. I recognize that it is hard for her to make the switch after a lifetime of viewing me another way and I try to be patient with her, though I will now correct her when she does it in public settings. While it can be very uncomfortable and awkward, being misgendered by a friend or old acquaintance accidentally occasionally is tolerable because I know I can gently remind them and that they are trying to adjust their speech. My newer friends almost always get their terms correct.

However, some people, such as the customer in the store, deliberately choose to misgender me. I have had people who have looked me in the eye, heard my name, seen my id or my bank card and still choose to refer to me as “sir” or as “him.” This offends me, because it demonstrates a fundamental unwillingness to acknowledge my identity. It’s like saying that I don’t exist.

I do not make it hard for people to “read” me. I am a high femme transgender woman, meaning that I regularly dress and present myself in a way that is markedly feminine according to the norms of our culture. I have a female name. I am a woman and I expect to be acknowledged as such. This is not an unreasonable expectation. It shows respect to me as a person. The other evening I was out to eat with my mother and the waitress asked what she could get us ladies. This honors my identity. Thankfully in my town this type of treatment is more common, so it really stands out to me when someone misgenders me.

Too often I have remained silent when misgendered. I am learning to speak out, to defend my identity and correct those who deliberately refuse to acknowledge it. It does depend on the context, of course. For example, part of the frustration in the interaction at the wine shop that evening was that as a sales woman working with a customer I could not correct her blatant disregard for my identity because that would be bad customer service. I did say something to my boss later about it and she voiced her support for me and said to call her if such incidents should happen in the future. But in other contexts I need to stand up for myself and not let people deny my existence through their choice of words.

You may feel like this is much ado about nothing, that it doesn’t really matter. As a cisgender person you can say this, because you probably never get misgendered. Your identity is acknowledged daily in the way people interact with you. If you are a cisgender woman, that acknowledgement may come in unpleasant, unwanted ways, which is a different but real issue as well. If you are transgender, you almost certainly have been misgendered and understand exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not a small thing. It’s about having your identity acknowledged by others. When people address me as a woman, when they speak about me with the correct feminine pronouns, they indicate that they accept me as who I am. When they don’t, their words indicate that in their eyes I don’t exist.

If you are interacting with a transgender person and are not sure how to address them, I have a very simple suggestion:  Ask them. As I said, my presentation is very clear and people shouldn’t have any struggle with how to interact with me, but other transgender people are more fluid and it may be more difficult to know what they prefer. Ask them. That’s much better than treating them according to your perception of their identity and in the process denying their identity because you are uncertain or, worse, deliberately refuse to acknowledge that they don’t conform to your perspective on gender. Ask them. It’s really not that difficult, is it?    

What gives you hope?

Yesterday I had the privilege to be interviewed by a young man, himself transgender, who has been travelling the country collecting stories from transgender people and allies in small towns and cities for a book he will be writing. One of the questions he asked me is “What gives you hope?” I hadn’t thought specifically about that until he asked, but answering it reminded me of some vitally important parts of my life.

My journey this past year has challenged me and pushed me beyond just about every limit I thought I could endure. About a month ago I reached a night where I found myself in despair to the point that I questioned the very value of continuing to live. I have known a great amount of joy, but also great depths of sorrow and grief. In the midst of that, I have found hope in my family, particularly my parents and my children who have walked this journey with me from the day I told them. I know far too many LGBTQ people who do not have this fundamental support and realize how fortunate I am that I do.

I also find hope in the amazing friends I have around me. I regularly feel lifted up, encouraged, affirmed and loved by them. I feel that I belong. I remember the theme song from Cheers, the popular sitcom from the 80s, which said “Sometimes you want to go, where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.” I always thought that the church should be such a place, though it rarely has been for me. But I now have such a place in my dance studio and that gives me so much hope. Between my biological family and my circle of friends I know that I am not alone. I know that I will never be abandoned, no matter how difficult things are. I know that they will be there for me, and I will be there for them. This gives me tremendous hope for my future.

In a world that often expresses hostility, dismay, derision and lack of understanding toward transgender people, as well as towards others who don’t fit the dominant perception of “normal,” I have hope because I see that there are a lot of people who do not feel that way, who affirm each person as they are. I have hope that the future will be better because such love must conquer the hate that others spew out. In the midst of this toxic election year, when one candidate builds his entire campaign on a message of fear, exclusion and intolerance, I know that he does not represent the values of this country and have hope that the values I see lived out among my friends will prevail.

Finally, I have hope because for the first time in my life I feel like a whole person. I am connected with myself. I know who I am and can live fully and freely in that identity. If you have not lived your life disconnected from yourself, you may not fully understand this, but the sense of freedom and hope that come from living wholeheartedly empowers and uplifts me. It’s not always easy. I’ve tried to be very candid about that on this blog. There are very difficult days and dark nights. Sometimes I want the struggle to be over, but I know that the struggle shapes me and that I have the strength and the inherent worth to rise again.

Hope has always been an important word to me. I appreciated the question from the interviewer yesterday because I had not thought of my journey particularly in terms of hope until then, but I see that I have strong, deep reasons for hope, and for that I am deeply thankful.

In Celebration of Coming Out

Today is National Coming Out Day, a day to celebrate those who have been able to step out of the shadows and let the world see them as they are. Unfortunately, there are still far too many who are not able to do so for a number of reasons, most of them rooted in fear: fear of rejection, fear of violence, fear of losing one’s employment, housing, relationships… I understand this fear. I’ve felt it and it kept me in the closet a long time.  I long for the day when no one will have to repress who they are, when coming out won’t really be coming out at all because nothing will have been hidden away. I will work with others to transform society to achieve this, because I believe so deeply in the inherent worth and dignity of all people and their right to live freely and fully as the person they are.

Recently I looked back through old messages on my phone to see when exactly I had first come out. I knew it was sometime in October but couldn’t remember exactly. Well, it turns out my timing was just a little bit off, because my coming out day is actually October 12. One year ago tomorrow I revealed my hidden secret identity to another person for the first time in my life. It was a hesitant, fearful, tentative step, but it was the first crack letting in the light that would in time become a flood that has radically changed my life. I’ve written about that journey already and will continue to share about it, but without that first opening, which had me literally shaking in fear, I would never have become the person I am today.

For that reason I will celebrate October 12 as coming out day. It’s like a second birthday because of the tremendous significance it bears. It marks my rebirth, my new beginning and if that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is. So here's to all who have come out and to those who are not yet able to do so. May we each have the courage and opportunity to live authentically as full members of society.

Coming out and living openly aren’t something you do once, or even for one year. It’s a journey that we make every single day of our lives. Every coming out experience is unique and must be navigated in the way most comfortable for the individual. Whether it's for the first time ever or the first time today, coming out can be an arduous journey. It is also a brave decision to live openly and authentically.

 (from the Human Rights Campaign website)

I am not an island -- AIDSWalk 2016

When my alarm rang at 5:00am on a Sunday morning I seriously wondered what the hell I was thinking when I signed up for a volunteer shift beginning at 6:00am on the one day a week I don’t have anything fixed on my schedule. But I pulled myself out of bed nonetheless, made myself presentable and drove downtown to help with the annual AIDS walk to raise support and awareness.  I chose to participate because I understood that the cause is important and I wanted to do what I could to support it, but I admit that I didn’t feel a strong personal connection to the issue. That changed this morning.

I know people who live with HIV. They’re not my closest friends, but in my circle of acquaintances there are definitely people whose lives are impacted by this and, therefore, so is mine. As I prepared for my volunteer role this morning I began speaking with another volunteer who became something of my partner for the event. I’ll call her Tracy. We made small talk for a while and then she asked me if I knew anyone impacted by the virus. I said that I had acquaintances but not really close friends. She then surprised me by saying that she lives with it and has since she was 18. I appreciated her openness about it and we began to talk more in depth. She allowed me to ask some questions about her experience of facing a potentially lethal disease so early in life. I was encouraged to hear that she had family support but then she mentioned that the thing she most wishes is that she had more contact with others in the community who live with it. I imagine there are such groups but, being new to the AIDS support community here I couldn’t make any specific suggestion. I did offer to stay in touch with her personally and gave her my contact information so she can follow up. I hope she does.

I felt a connection with Tracy because, as I shared with her about my own journey during the course of our conversation, she and I both face the challenge of living our lives under the burden of social stigma. She spoke of my bravery but I think she’s the brave one, for she faces life each day knowing that she carries a disease that could kill her. Worse, she has to assess whether to acknowledge this to people she interacts with because not everyone will handle it well. We don’t speak of AIDS as we do of other diseases. We have made great strides in reducing the negative social attitudes towards HIV and AIDS, but we still have so far to go. Too many people still view it with fear and suspicion and treat those who live with it as if they were unworthy of living full human lives. I can relate to that all too well, because as a transgender person I also face such attitudes in society. My interaction with Tracy throughout the morning made my involvement with and commitment to the efforts to raise HIV/AIDS awareness and support those living with it far more personal, because I understand in a way I hadn’t really before that this is part of the same fight against discrimination and against the efforts to mark those who don’t fit the standard social narrative as less human and unworthy. I want to say to Tracy and all those who live with HIV that they are loved and worthy and adequate and I want to do what I can to foster their full acceptance and support in society.

Volunteering with the walk left me encouraged, in large part because of my interaction with Tracy, but also because of the amazing community spirit I saw on display. Hundreds of volunteers got up early on a Sunday morning to come down and support this event. Along with them hundreds of walkers got up and walked the city streets to raise money and awareness. I teared up a bit as the first walkers passed through the balloon arch that marked the end of the walking route, welcomed by dozens of people applauding and cheering their involvement. The amazing diversity of the people involved in the event was simply beautiful. I’m old enough to remember when AIDS began to intrude into public awareness back in the 80’s. I remember the fear and animosity that greeted those affected by it – much of it coming from religious communities. An event like today’s would have been much different then. This year’s event marked the 28^th anniversary here in my community. I wasn’t around for that first year, but I can imagine that it was met at best with indifference and at worst with angry expressions of hatred and discrimination. We’ve come a long way from those dark days, but we still have so much farther to go, just as we have so much farther to go in accepting and affirming those who don’t conform to the typical sexual or gender narrative of society. My cause is Tracy’s cause, and I will stand with her and all those living with HIV, just as I would hope they will stand with me as a transgender woman. I hope you will stand with us as well.

Bravery

I spent most of my life watching my words carefully, striving to not say things that might cause people to dislike me. I swallowed my opinions, or expressed them with the utmost caution and lots of cushioning words to dilute their potential impact. I was so afraid of what other people would think of me, so dependent on their opinion of me that I almost never spoke boldly and openly. I hid my true self in an effort to please others.

No more.

Not that I suddenly spout off any old thing that comes into my head. But because I feel much more confident and comfortable with who I am, I can speak out of that confidence and share my thoughts and opinions. I can express myself creatively. I can be serious, or silly, or whatever mood I happen to be in at any given time, because what other people think of me doesn’t change who I am. I’d like to say it doesn’t affect me at all, but that wouldn’t be true. I do care, and I still want people to like me. But I no longer NEED them to like me to feel good about who I am.

We hear often about the bravery of soldiers, of first responders and such, and certainly they exhibit a certain form of bravery at times. But bravery is not just about courage under fire, or risking one’s life to save someone in danger. It can be simply choosing to express your true self in front of others. It can be sharing that first tentative piece of artwork, that first draft of a poem, or taking those first hesitant steps as a dancer. It can be sharing with one person something about yourself that you have always kept hidden away. Such bravery doesn’t come with medals and citations. In fact, it often comes with ridicule and abuse, or just plain indifference. But it’s bravery nonetheless, for there is no greater act of bravery than to put who you are out there for others to see. I’ve experienced this so often this past year. It’s hard. It’s scary.

I was sharing with a friend recently how, even after three years of taking dance classes, I still often feel afraid and intimidated, hesitant to get out on the dance floor. This is especially true in any new class setting. It’s a risk. I’m putting something of myself on display and others may use that opportunity to wound me. As I’ve shared before, I am thankful that my dance studio is such a positive, affirming environment, but there is still that anxiety, that uncertainty. The first day I took a modern dance class this summer I had knots in my stomach all the way to the studio and until I actually got on the dance floor and just let myself get into the rhythm of the class. Even after three years of dance and with a very supportive environment, expressing myself before others requires bravery.

The more I practice bravery, the easier it becomes – somewhat. I still have to push myself to step into new situations, to try new things, to go beyond my comfort zone. I make it a personal challenge, but honestly, sometimes I’d rather just remain in the safety of my little bubble. Heck, some days I’d just as soon not get out of bed. But I will continue to choose to be brave, to show up for my life, to share who I am with the world and accept the risk that comes with that, because in doing so I experience life and I pass life on to others. I love when I see that my small acts of bravery encourage someone else to bravely express themselves in a new way. I hope that you will do so as well!

Invisible People

While running between two of my current part-time jobs the other day I stopped by a convenience store to pick up some caffeine. I had started the day tired and working another six-hour shift on my feet required some artificial stimulation. As I entered the store the employee, a younger, blond-haired woman, gave me a cursory glance and acknowledgment of my presence (greeting seems a bit too strong for her response). I picked out my beverage and headed to the counter, where she joined me. She wasn’t rude by any means, just not particularly engaged in our transaction either. Who can blame her? I was another customer in a string of them buying a simple beverage.

While she rang up my purchase I asked her how her day was going and we began chatting about our work lives. As I talked with her, her demeanor changed from disinterested to engaged. I’m not going to say she came alive, that would be an overstatement. But she did seem to brighten in response to our conversation. It wasn’t anything in depth. We mostly commiserated about the challenges of working long shifts. But in that brief interaction we connected, just slightly, at a human level. I left feeling a small bit better and I hope that I left her also feeling just the slightest bit brighter.

My current economic situation has renewed my perspective on the people we interact with every day: the checkout people, shop employees, cleaning personnel, secretaries and administrative assistants, waitresses and waiters and so many others. They are the ones who do the basic tasks that keep society functioning on a daily basis, but how often do we stop to acknowledge their humanity? I’ve seen this in my job at a wine shop, where I serve people during our weekly wine tastings. Many of our customers treat me very well, talking with me as I come to their tables and engaging with me as a fellow human. The regulars take it a step further and we have begun to get to know one another, not in a deeply personal way but still with a stronger than casual connection. These types of interactions make the job enjoyable.

Then there’s the other group, the ones who come in, drink their wine and exchange barely a word with me. Certainly that is their right, and there may be something going on in their lives that influences their behavior at that moment, so I don’t want to be overly harsh in judgment. But these interactions leave me feeling empty, like I’m invisible. If I were replaced by a wine-pouring robot it wouldn’t matter to these customers. I don’t expect or ask for much, but I do appreciate it when my customers acknowledge my existence and affirm that I am more than a menial servant.

I have always sought to be conscious of “invisible” people, but my current situation has made me redouble my efforts to not interact with people as if they were invisible. I want to come away from every interaction I have with other people, as much as I possibly can, with the feeling that I connected with them on a human level. I want to leave them feeling like they are valued, worthy people, that their lives matter, that their contribution is appreciated. When I frequent a business regularly, such as the pizza shop near my dance studio, I try to learn the names of the employees so that I can connect with them still better, because learning a person’s name communicates that I see them as a unique, valuable individual, not just an anonymous employee. I look for points of human connection and share from my own life at a corresponding appropriate level.

We complain a lot about the loss of civility and about the breakdown in discourse in our society. Our culture is certainly changing and despite all the negative press there are many reasons to hope for a better future. I think we can take small, powerful steps to heal the dynamic between people in our society remembering that the people we interact with every day are also human, that they long for affirmation of their worth, of their contribution, of their significance. This alone won’t solve all the challenges we face, but it might make life more positive for a lot of people. Will you join me? Will you take the time today to connect with the people who cross your path?