Another Anniversary!

Yesterday this blog turned seven years old.

And I turned six.  That is to say, six years ago yesterday, I underwent my surgery. 

My, how time flies!

What Money Couldn't Do

If I ever hear anyone say, "Gender is learned" or "Gender is performative" again, I'll scream.  Trust me, you don't want to hear that.

I can't understand how anyone who knows the story of David Reimer can utter such nonsense.  He--originally named Bruce-- and his identical twin brother Brian  were born in Winnipeg, Manitoba on 22 May 1965.  At six months, concerns were raised about how both of them urinated.  They were diagnosed with phimosis and, as a result, circumcision was recommended. However, only Bruce underwent the procedure, which a urologist did by the unconventional method of cauterization.  It went horribly wrong, and Bruce's penis was burned beyond repair.  Brian's condition cleared up without surgery.

The parents, worried about Bruce's prospects for future happiness and sexual function without a penis, consulted with John Money, a psychologist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.  At that time, Johns Hopkins was the chief center for research on gender identity disorders and of gender reassignment surgery.  Money was an early and prominent proponent of the idea that gender is learned and believed, as most practitioners did at the time, that a penis could not be replaced but a satisfactory vagina could be constructed.  Not surprisingly, he believed that Reimer could achieve a more satisfactory life as a female and recommended that he undergo gender reassignment surgery.  So, at the age of 22 months, Bruce's testes were surgically removed.  

He was renamed Brenda and underwent years of hormone treatments and attempts to socialize him as a girl.  According to Reimer, Dr. Money forced him and Brian to play sexual roles, with Bruce/Brenda on bottom, as he believed this would help both of them develop "healthy adult gender identity."  His parents made him wear frilly dresses in the harsh Canadian prairie winters.

Through it all, Bruce/Brenda always idenitified as a boy.  Never once, he said, did he believe himself to be a girl.  He fell into a deep depression and, at age thirteen, threatened to commit suicide if he were forced to see Dr. Money again.  His parents then told him the truth about his gender identity, and at age fourteen started to live as male and assumed the name David.  Later, he would undergo testosterone treatments, a double masectomy and a phalloplasty to reverse the effects of his estrogen treatments and earlier gender-reassignment surgery.

One of the cruel ironies of this story is that his brother Brian was, if anything, more "feminine", at least in the way people would define that term. Brian was gentle, introspective and had little interest in masculine pursuits.  In contrast, Bruce was, in the words of John Colapinto--who wrote As Nature Made Him:  The Boy Who Was Raised As A Girl--"a hellraiser".  Brian died of an overdose of antidepressants in 2002, as David was dealing with unemployment and difficult relationships with his parents and wife, whose three children he adopted.    On 2 May 2004, his wife told him she wanted to separate; two days later, David committed suicide.

As Colapinto points out, as terrible as this case is, it doesn't provide an answer of "nature" to the "nature vs. nurture" debate. Some people believe that a case like David's--or, for that matter, his brother's-- proves that gender is entirely a function of the genitalia one has at birth.  However, I think--based on my own experience and that of trans people I've known--that however we come to the way we identify ourselves--whether we're born with it or come to it in infancy, early childhood or whenever--no amount of behavior modification, pharmaceutical treatments or surgery will change it.  I identified as female, even when I didn't voice it, about as far back as I can remember.  And no attempt to "make me a man" could change it.

Here is an interview Colapinto gave on Canadian television:

Now You Don't Need Surgery To Change Your Birth Certificate (At Least, Here In NYC)

I have some good news today:  Here in New York City, a person won't need to have gender-reassignment surgery to have the gender changed on his or her birth certificate.

Yesterday, the City Council voted 39-5 (with three abstensions) to pass a bill which does away with the requirement for surgery.  Now, all a trans person needs is for one of a long list of health- and social-service providers to certify that he or she identifies with a gender other than the one on his or her birth certificate.  This policy is said to be one of the most liberal in the United States.

What makes this particularly good news here in NYC is that we have a large (or, at least, larger than just about anywhere else) population of poor and homeless trans people, especially youths, who need the services provided by city and state agencies, not to mention medical care.  Too often, they can't access those services because their IDs (which usually indicate the same gender and name as their birth certificates) don't match up with what is seen by the receptionist, clerk or other person to whom that ID is presented.  Or, too often, such trans folk (again, especially youths) don't have ID at all.

Also, most people don't realize that our ID dilemma makes us more vulnerable to identity theft and other kinds of fraud committed in our name.  Nobody seems to have statistics on this matter, but I would venture that it happens to us more often than most people realize--and, contrary to a common perception, far more often than we commit fraud to get ID with our true genders and the names by which we identify ourselves.

I think most of us knew that, sooner or later, the surgery requirement would be scrapped.  What made the process perhaps a bit longer and more arduous than it is in some other places is that here in NYC, birth certificates are issued by the Department of Health and Mental Hygeine.  It's a bit more difficult to pass legislation that mandates their policies than it is to tell a court or department of vital records (the entities that issue birth certificates in most places) what to do.

Post #1500. Thank You For Reading

Today this blog reaches another milestone:  Post #1500.  

When I started this blog, a year before my surgery, I had no idea of how many posts I would write or how long I would keep this site later.  Now I'm here, more than six years after my first post, and five after my surgery.  And my other blog, Midlife Cycling, is, in a way, a spin-off of this one.

I have thought about winding this blog down. But I told someone about it last week, and she exhorted me to keep it going.  I will: I just don't know how often I'll post.  But I don't think I'll run out of material, whether from my own life and from the world of transgender--as well as lesbian, gay, bisexual and otherwise gender-variant--life, politics, art, literature, health care, education and other areas.

Thank you for reading!

Will They Strike Surgery Out Of The Requirements?

Those of us who live in New York City often decry our state's lawmakers, who tend to be more socially and politically conservative than their counterparts here in the Big Apple. "Those upstate Republicans" in the state Senate are, in our view, responsible for everything retrograde that burdens our city and state.

For example, they spent decades blocking the inclusion of language that would extend the provisions of the state's non-discrimination laws to transgender people.  The same year they first rejected such a proposal--1971--they also passed the Urstadt Law, which took away the City's power to pass local rent regulations more stringent than those of the State.

But there's one city-state discrepancy that can't be blamed on the "upstate Republicans":  If you were born anywhere in New York State except for the five boroughs of New York City, you can change the gender on your birth certificate on a recommendation from your doctor, psychotherapist  or, in some cases, other health-care professionals whose services you used.  On the other hand, if you were born in the Bronx, Brooklyn, New York (Manhattan), Queens or Richmond (Staten Island) counties, you have to undergo gender-reassignment surgery.

The five boroughs of New York City constitute one of the 57 jurisdictions in the US that has responsibility for its own birth registration.  Most of those jurisdictions are states, and someone applying for a change in his or her birth certificate (or, in some states, a new one)  would write to the state's commission of health or its equivalent. Most states require proof of GRS or an equivalent procedure (as Georgia, where I was born, does); a few (including California, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont and Washington DC) do not and a few other states (Idaho, Kansas, Ohio and Tennessee) will not change the gender on a birth certificate for any reason.

So, interestingly, I had about the same experience in getting my new birth certificate from Georgia that I would have had if I'd been born in New York City.  To be fair, the folks in the Peachtree State processed my application quickly and I had my new birth certificate within days. 

I don't know how quickly or slowly the  process works here in the Big Apple. But it would almost certainly go more smoothly--and be easier on the applicant--if transgender advocates' testimony at a City Council Health Committee hearing the other day have any effect.  They are calling for passage of a proposal that would eliminate the requirement for surgery, and Gretchen Van Wye, Assistant Commissioner of the Bureau of Vital Statistics spoke in favor of such a legislative move.

The City Council could vote on the proposal by the end of this year.

Five Years Since My Surgery

Today marks five years since my surgery--and six since I started this blog.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I have less and less to say about the surgery and my transtition.  And life as a woman has become a fact rather than a hope or dream for me.  I am still learning about it, and finding adventures (and pitfalls) I could not have anticipated.

I don't anticipate stopping this blog, though my posts may become less frequent over time.  I'll probably post more on my other blog.  Plus, I have other projects I want--and feel I must do. They involve writing, and other things.

But, as a famous Austrian body builder-turned actor-turned Governator growled, "I'll be back!"
 

Medicare Will Accept Applications For GRS Coverage

A US Department of Health and Human Services board has just ruled that Medicare recipients can no longer automatically be denied coverage for gender-reassignment surgeries.


Of course, this does not mean that every senior citizen who wants the surgery will get it at taxpayers' expense.  Rather, it gives Medicare recipients can seek authorization for the procedure by submitting a doctor's and mental health professional's documentation stating that the surgery is medically indicated in the applicant's case.


State-run Medicaid organizations as well as private insurers often take their cues from the Federal government in setting guidelines for coverage.  So, some have suggested, today's ruling could pave the way for gender-reassignment surgery becoming a routinely-covered benefit.


Such a prospect, of course, has opponents' knickers in a twist.  They believe that "anyone and everyone" will ask for the surgery and costs will rocket to the stratosphere.  However, even the most liberal estimates indicate that transgender people are no more than 0.4 percent of the population. Moreover, preliminary research indicates that coverage of medical treatments and procedures related to transgender issues has no discernible effect on the number of people who avail themselves to them.

From Christine Jorgensen To Jan Morris

It's been a while since I wrote about the Lost Generation of Transgenders.  In this post, I'm going to talk about something related:  Specifically, two of the world's best-known male-to-female transsexuals. One of them was at the vanguard of the first generation of transsexuals, while the other was its rearguard or, perhaps, on the front line of the following generation.

I am speaking of Christine Jorgensen and Jan Morris.  In reading an article about the latter, I found out that she's 87 years old and, interestingly, was born only five months after Ms. Jorgensen.  

The reason why those facts are interesting (at least to me) is that Jorgensen, being one of the first trans women to become publicly known, conformed completely (perhaps even more so than most cisgender women) to the gender norms of her time, while Jan Morris was able to define her own womanhood and femaleness to a much greater degree than Jorgensen could or would have.

Although they were born in the same year, they underwent their surgeries two decades apart.  The fact that gender roles had changed between 1952 and 1972 cannot be overstated.  What's even more important, though, is the way the generational difference affected Jorgensen's and Morris' paths to living as women.

Jorgensen began her transition just after World War II, in which she served as a soldier. She had even fewer precedents than Morris had, let alone than I or transsexuals of my generation had.  And, because the Internet was decades away, accessing information about hormones and surgery, and accounts of transgender people, was even more laborious than it would later be. 

That may be a reason why she modeled herself after the ideals of femaleness--or, more precisely, femininity--that prevailed in the immediate postwar years.  She studied to be a nurse because that was one of the few career options available to women of that time. Her mannerisms, dress and lifestyle were in line with what was considered "ladylike."  While she may have had the natural physical features to become the Marilyn Monroe-like blonde bombshell she would become, it's hard not to think she also did everything she could to enhance and maintain that image, especially after she found herself working as an entertainer.  Finally, she married a man and followed him in moves to suburban Long Island and southern California.

Morris, on the other hand, did not begin her transition until 1964.  By then, treatments--and, some would argue, societal notions about womanhood--were more advanced. Perhaps even more important, she had already established herself as an historian and travel writer, and had been married fifteen years, when she began her transition.  In fact, she went to Morocco for her surgery, which Dr. George Bourou performed, because in her native England she would not be allowed to have her surgery unless she divorced her wife, something she wasn't prepared to do at the time.  They eventually did divorce, but remained in contact and reunited in a civil union in 2008.

Christine Jorgensen died nearly two decades before that union was consummated. She was just three weeks short of 63 years old.  Somehow I have the feeling that the lurid jokes and other ridicule and ostracism directed at her shortened her life.  That's not to say Morris had an easy time, but even she has admitted that she didn't have to endure what Jorgensen and other early transsexuals experienced.

I don't know how much longer Morris has in this world.  Whatever the amount of time, I hope young trans people learn more about her, and the way she was a bridge between two generations of trans people who made their lives and mine possible.

I Am Luckier Than Nathan Verhelst

I have lost relationships with relatives, people who I thought were friends and former colleagues because of my gender transition.  I have also lost a job and had to move out of an apartment because Dominick used the prejudices and other notions some people have about transgender people to spread false rumors and otherwise slander me.  (He was also abusive in other ways.)  

Still, I consider myself very, very lucky.  Certainly I am more fortunate than Nathan Verhelst.

He began hormone replacement therapy in 2009 and subsequently underwent a mastectomy and phalloplasty.  However, he said "My new breasts did not match my expectations and my new penis had symptoms of rejection."  When he looked in the mirror after his operations, he was "filled with self-loathing."  

"I do not want to be...a monster", he said.

Perhaps no amount of hormones, surgery or anything else could have alleviated his self-loathing.  "I was the girl nobody wanted," he related.  "While my brothers were celebrated, I got a room above the garage as a bedroom. " 

Perhaps even more damaging to his self-esteem were his mother's words:  "If only you had been a boy." He was "tolerated and nothing more", he said.

Earlier this week, with the permission of his native Belgium's government, he ended his life via lethal injection.  The doctors attending him said he "passed peacefully".   

How did his mother respond?  "Her death does not bother me," she declared.  She summed up her relationship with her child thusly:  "When I saw 'Nancy' for the first time, my dream was shattered.  She was so ugly.  I had a phantom birth."

There have been times when my mother was, understandably, exasperated with me. But she never would have said anything so awful to or about me or my brothers.  In fact, for much of my life, she has been among the few people with whom I could talk honestly about how I felt about anything.  And she has been about as supportive as anyone could have been in my transition and my new life.

Nathan Verhelst was a much better-looking man than I am a woman, or I was as a man.  I don't know much else about him, but I am certain than I am far more fortunate than he ever was.

Keeping The Faith

Like most other transgender people, I have experienced discrimination, shame, rejection and even hostility for living in accordance with my true self.

Now, as to whether I've experienced more or worse ostracism than others, I don't know.  I have lost longtime friendships, relationships with relatives and professional colleagues as well as access to people, places and things that were once part of my life.   

By the same token, I have been more fortunate than many other trans people--and many other people, period.  I have been welcomed by people and into places when I expected no such hospitality, and at times I have had glimpses into worlds I would not have considered in my old life.  

I'm thinking now of the first time I entered a mosque.  After I took off my shoes, a caretaker directed me into the area in which women prayed.  We sat on wooden chairs behind a partition about three feet high.  The other women prayed, some audibly.  A few retreated to a more private but still-visible area (from which they could have seen the rest of us), removed their headscarves and washed themselves.  

Granted, we were in the Sultanahmet or "Blue" Mosque in Istanbul.  But I had similar experiences in other Turkish mosques, in the countryside as well as the city, some of which were not visited by tourists or other foreigners.  While those visits, and the hospitality of both the women and men, left me with no desire to become a Muslim (or, for that matter, an adherent to any other religion), I felt privileged to be allowed to partake of what, for some people, is the most sacrosanct part of their lives.  

I hope that Lucy Vallender will have such experiences one day soon.

Three years ago, she had gender-reassignment surgery.  Before that, she'd been a soldier in Her Majesty's forces.  After her surgery, she met a Muslim man on an online dating site and became his second wife.  She is believed to be the first transgender Muslim woman in the United Kingdom.

Although she says she's happy with her marriage and new-found faith, she was upset witht the way her local mosque, in the southwestern city of Swindon, has treated her: She's not allowed to pray with the other women and, she says, worshippers have asked her rude questions about everything from her bra cup size to whether or not she has a period.  They've even asked to see her birth certificate.

When I took my trip to Turkey, I had been on hormones for nearly three years and had been living full-time as a woman for just over two; about three and a half more years would pass before my surgery.  I don't know how long Ms. Vallender had been living as female before her surgery or marriage but, from what I've read about her, I probably had more experience, if you will, than she's had so far.  Also, I was nearly two decades older than she is now, which may have given me some social and other skills she has not yet acquired.

I hope that nothing I've said seems condescending toward Ms. Vallender.  I suspect (or, at any rate, hope) that her faith, her love for her husband and his for her will give her the strength she will need to develop the patience she will need until people in her community understand (to the degree they can or will) and accept her. I believe that she will find such acceptance, and even the hospitality I've experienced, because in my travels and in my work I have met very, very good Muslim people--and, most important of all, because she has accepted and embraced herself. 

Four Years In My New Life, Five For This Blog

Today this blog turns five years old.  And, on this date four years ago, I underwent my gender-reassignment surgery.

I could not have predicted what would result from either but, in hindsight, so much seems inevitable.  I have made and lost friends--also as a result of the gender transition that had been in progress for a few years when I started this blog.  

One thing I realize now is that I never lived more in--but not for--the present moment than I did when I underwent the surgery and during the weeks when I was recovering from it.  Really, there wasn't much else to think about.  Then again, what else can you think about when you're dilating and soaking three times a day?

Everything else I experienced couldn't be thought about; it could only be experienced.  Like looking at my vagina for the first time.  Or noticing the way my hair grew.  Or the ways in which people were treating me.

Up to the day I arrived in Trinidad, there were people who knew me from before my transition and continued the relationships they'd had with me.  Then there were those from my past who ended the relationships they had with me.  And then there were those who met me after I started my transition, learned of my history and decided that there was nothing wrong with it, or that they simply didn't care.

The people I met in Trinidad--I include Dr. Marci Bowers, who did my surgery; her then-partner Carol Cometto, who ran the Morning After House; the others who were there for surgery and the ones who accompanied them and the nurses and others who helped--all knew why I was there, and why they were there.  Being a trans person was a "given" for me, for the others who were having surgery and, of course, Marci herself.  We didn't have to reveal anything to each other; as Melanie sang in "Lay Down", we'd bled inside each others' wounds.

In brief, we seemed "normal" to each other.  We didn't have to explain ourselves or worry about the reactions we'd get.  There wasn't any anxiety about loss or insincerity; we might remain in touch after the surgery or we might not.  Whether or not we formed friendships over our shared experiences, there was no way we would lose them--or hear a lot of political correctness over how we have to accept people different from ourselves--as a result of our sometimes-paralell histories.

The day I got to Trinidad, I realized that someone who'd been a part of my life for several years had been talking to, and otherwise treating me, as if I were some sort of freak.  While he voiced support for my transition and having the surgery, he did things to undermine me along the way.  Deep down, I believe, he wanted me to remain a man--or, at least, not to have the surgery--so that I could "stick" him, as he put it.

Now, I don't want to generalize about all men who date pre-op trans women.  But I realize now that he was with me because--to be perfectly blunt--he didn't have the balls to love anyone for who he or she actually is.  Being with me allowed him to hide his gayness from people who didn't know about him, or about my history.  It also allowed him--in his mind, anyway--to feel superior to somebody.  Also, he knew that he could use me as his emotional punching bag because, he realized, that if I complained, a lot of people would assume that I was in the wrong, or would simply not care.

He says he was bullied on his way to and from school.  I saw him with his family; he and they bullied each other.  And, I realized, that is what he was doing to me.  Of course, his bullying would escalate after I returned from my surgery and ended our relationship.

At the time, I had a sort of premonition that our relationship wouldn't survive my surgery.  He never saw it as anything more than an alteration of parts of my body and couldn't understand why I wanted it because, well, he wanted the parts I had before the surgery.  But here's something I never told him because I never could:  The transition was, above all, a spiritual experience.  I  took hormones and had surgery to make it a bit easier to live in accord with my female spirit; I never had any illusions that it was going to make me into a bombshell or any of the other stereotypes of what women are supposed to be.  I knew that I was--as Vicki, a counselor at the Anti-Violence Project, put it--a self-made woman.  Actually, I think nearly all women are because there are so few who can teach us how to be anything but our culture's--or, simply, men's--notions of what women are supposed to be.  


The best things other women have done for me, in and since my transition and surgery, is to support me emotionally (as well as in other ways) and to welcome me into their spaces, into their lives.  I try to do the same; it's something I'm still learning, as I never had to understand in my previous life. Sometimes I get the feeling the man I'm talking about--Dominick--never will because he doesn't have to, and has had no one who can teach him.

Perhaps that is the way in which my transition and surgery changed my life.  Sometimes that change has been very complicated, but I wouldn't trade it for my previous life, or anyone else's.

A Fourth Anniversary on the Fourth

I can't believe that four years--almost--have passed since my surgery!

On this date four years ago, I flew from LaGuardia to Denver International Airports, then to Colorado Springs, where I spent the night.  It's the one and only time I've spent my birthday in transit, I believe. But it was appropriate somehow: On the anniversary of my physical arrival in this world, I was on my way to my birth--or, at least, the birth of the person I have always wanted to be.

The following day, Robin from Dr. Bowers' office picked me up and drove me to Trinidad.  I recall the easy rapport we seemed to have and how calm I felt through my trip and the time up to the very moment of my surgery.  Of course, that calm immediately before the surgery was an effect of the anaesthesiologist's work.  But the time before then had much to do with Robin, other people I met in Trinidad and, of course, Dr. Bowers herself.

On this day four years ago, I was on my way.

Surgery Not Required In Ontario

In the Canadian province of Ontario, it is now possible for a person to change the gender as well as the name on his or her birth certificate, even if he or she hasn't had gender reassignment surgery.

This change in policy stems from an April ruling from the province's Human Rights Tribunal in the case of a born-male woman known as "XY" .  The Tribunal declared the surgery requirement to be discriminatory. Furthermore, the Tribunal's ruling said that the requirement added to the stigma felt by members of the transgender community, and reinforced stereotypes about how they experience gender.

I am of two minds about this ruling.  On one hand, I am glad that the requirement for surgery has been eliminated, and would like to see American states similarly change their policies.  The surgical requirement discriminates against those who can't afford surgery or can't have it for medical reasons. It also, as the Ontario tribunal's ruling notes, reinforces the gender binary.  We are now learning that gender identity is not merely "performative," genital or chromosomal; it is far more complex, and complicated than almost anyone realizes.  That means, of course, that there are far more than two ways to experience, much less express, gender.

Dropping the surgical requirement will also make it easier for many people, especially young trans folk, to gain admissions to schools, jobs, housing and many other actual and de facto necessities of life.  Someone who does not have those things, and can find no other option but a homeless shelter and other public assistance, will be assigned to a shelter and given benefits according to whether the "male" or "female" is indicated on the birth certificate.

On the other hand, as a friend of mine says, a birth certificate is part of an accurate record of a person's history. This friend, who is transitioning, does not want to change the gender, or even the name, on the birth certificate. The birth certificate records the gender of the body into which a person is born and the name given at the time of birth.  My friend believes that these are a vital part of a life history.

I can sympathise with this friend's feelings, and feel that if anyone who doesn't want to change his or her birth certificate, even after surgery, should have that right.   At the same time, I realize this friend is unlikely to change jobs and probably won't move until retirement from said job.  My friend will not therefore have to face the dilemma of having to start life with documents that don't match gender identity or presentation.

So, as I said, I am glad for the Ontario ruling and hope other Canadian provinces and American states--as well as other nations--follow suit.  But I also hope that no one is forced to alter his or her records after a transition and surgery.

Transgender In Iran

In a previous post, I mentioned that Argentina--which had one of the most repressive military regimes, supported by the Catholic Church, less than a generation ago--now has some of the most liberal laws about gender identity and expression in the world.  In essence, it allows all people over the age of 18 to live in the gender of their choice.  It also legalized same-sex marriage in 2005.  The only American states to have done so before Argentina were Massachusetts and California, where the law was later repealed.

For decades, South Africa was ruled by apartheid, which rigidly enforced separation of the races in employment, habitation and other areas.  Not only have those laws been repealed, but that nation also has same-sex marriage, which it legalized the year after Argentina did so.

And, interestingly, one of the European countries in which same-sex marriage is legal is Spain.  Of course, there is still much opposition to it.  That is not surprising when one considers that it was long one of the most conservative Catholic countries and bore the weight of Generalissimo Franco's dictatorship for more than four decades, until his death in 1975.

Perhaps the most seemingly incongruous situation--at first glance, anyway--is found in Iran.  As in many other Muslim countries, same-sex relationships are punishable by death.  And it's hardly considered a bellwether when it comes to equality of the sexes.

Yet more gender-reassignment surgeries are performed there than in any other country except Thailand.  People come from other Middle Eastern countries, and even from Eastern Europe, for the procedures.  Furthermore, Iranian law says that employers must pay for the cost of the surgery, which runs about $3000--a fraction of what it costs in the US.

According to at least one cleric, crimes are acts forbidden by the Qu'ran.  Homosexuality, according to such authorities, is one of them.  However, since there is no mention of transgenderism or gender-reassignment, they cannot be considered as transgressions, according to that line of reasoning.

But there is one downside of this situation:  Gay men and, to a lesser extent, lesbians, undergo the procedure, often under pressure.  As gay men and lesbians, they are considered criminals, but as transgenders, they are not.

Now, I don't have exact statistics, but I know that many male-to-female transgenders are attracted only to women.  Some, including a few of my acquaintance, even remain married after their surgeries--which, of course, do not change their orientations.  I wonder whether Iranian authorities have ever considered that, or how such hetero men who become, in essence, lesbians cope or are treated.  Do they go into the same closet in which many lesbians live in that country, and others?  

And I can't help but to wonder what will happen after Ahmoud Ahmadinejad's term as President ends in 2013.  As he has already served two terms, he cannot run for re-election.  Although he has backed religious conservatives, and even extremists, he has taken a more moderate tone (at least in terms of religion) in the past year or two.  What will happen if a more hard-core fundamentalist is elected to office?  Would such a person appoint a cleric to help him or her decree that gender-reassignment surgery is a crime?  Would Iran lose one the few ways in which the nation can claim leadership in any area of human rights?

I'm Three; This Blog Is Four. What's Next?

Today I am three years old.  And this blog is four.


The second sentence probably makes sense to you.  Maybe the first one doesn't.  What I mean, of course, is that I had my surgery three years ago today.

If you've been reading this blog, you've probably noticed that my posts are less frequent.  I guess there's less to talk about, at least in terms of my own gender identity and reassignment, as time goes on.  Ironically, I find that the few occasions on which I talk about those things are with certain people at work, and in other academic settings. Most people who encounter me will never see me again and, as far as they know, I'm a middle-aged woman.  Which, of course, is what I am.  On the other hand, people who have spent lots of time in school--especially if their field of study is related to gender, gender studies or feminism--have to fit me into some sub-sub-sub-category or other.  


It seems that, in academic circles, more people than I'd expected are reading this blog.  At least, that's what I've been told.  So, every once in a while, I'll bump into some professor or researcher who's not connected with any institution in which I've worked, and whom I've never before met, and he or she will say that he or she has heard about me.


But once I'm outside of an academic setting, my past hardly seems to matter at all.  I suppose that if I apply for something and a background check is done, or even if I'm merely asked whether I've ever gone by another name, I'll have to explain where and what I've been.  I suppose--or I hope, anyway--that it won't be seen as negatively as having been convicted of a felony.  Not that I would know anything about that!


I have been volunteering with a women's organization, about which I'll say more in a future post.  I told its founder and officers about my past.  Even though I hadn't expected it to be an issue for them,  I figured it would be better for them to hear it from me than someone else.  Also, I figured that if they didn't want a trans woman in their midst (which, by the way, some women's groups don't), it would be better to find out before I got involved.  But, as the founder of the organization said, somewhat wryly, "We're not the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival."


It was exactly the sort of thing I'd wanted when I started my transition.  I not only knew it was possible; it was what I expected.  So, even though I knew that there were people who were like the organizers of MWMF, there were also people like the founder of the organization.  And there are many other women who've never heard of the Festival, or simply don't care about it.  I know, because I've come to know some of them, and they have friends, sisters, mothers, aunts, grandmothers and other women in their lives who share their feelings.  And most of them don't, or wouldn't, care about my past--or would only care about it to the extent that we like to know where and what the people in our lives have come from.  


As one of them said, it's not easy being a woman, so she has all the more respect for someone who has embraced her femaleness, and chosen to live it. In the end, that's all there really is to what I've done during these past few years, from going into therapy, taking hormones, changing my name, living in my new identity, getting my surgery, starting this blog and doing any number of other things.  


It may lead me to start another blog.  If I do, it will probably be at least somewhat related to this blog.  (How could it not be?  Even my other blog, Midlife Cycling, is--at least to some extent.)  And it might lead me to other projects and work which I can't yet conceive.  All I know is that whatever I do, I have no choice but to live as the woman I am.  And I wouldn't make any other choice, even if I could.

A Surprise In One Of My Classes

In one of my classes, students have been reading various essays and articles about gender and sexuality.  I've assigned them a paper based on those readings.  

Last year, I had a self-imposed moratorium on such readings and assignments.  I wanted to teach things that had nothing to do with those topics.  I started this year with the same moratorium but I found that, ironically, my students led me back to them.  They wanted to express their thoughts about gender identity and sexuality. Some of those thoughts included were about the inseparability of gender and sexuality from many other topics, including some that I hadn't anticipated, such as science.

Anyway, in the class in question, one student whom I thought to be a cocky teenager, expressed the opinion that "everyone has rights."  At first I was skeptical; I thought he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear.  However, as I read on, I realized that he had been thinking a lot about the issues in the reading.  He said, in essence, that he'd be disappointed if he had a son who expressed interest in "changing" genders.  However, he said, he would support that son's right to do so if he made that choice as an adult.

But what came after that assertion was, perhaps, the most interesting and gratifying part of all.  He wrote about one of his school-mates, with whom he had been friends since both were five years old. This friend had a brother who was several years older, and whom my student saw almost as often as he saw the friend.  This friend's older brother, according to my student, was sullen and testy (Those were his exact words.) and had a few incidents with cops and authority figures.

However, my student noticed a change in him.  This friend's brother began to "mellow" out, and even volunteered his time.  My student, of course, had no idea of what brought about the change--that is, until one day, when he noticed other changes.  "His face looked different.  His body was starting to look different."  What my student was describing, of course, were the effects of taking hormones.  

This friend's sibling has since had gender reassignment surgery.  My student says he can't imagine such a thing for himself, and he hopes that any son he may have wouldn't want to do the same thing.  However, he says, "it just might be necessary.  And that is why I would support his right to do it."

I wonder if his buddies in the class--who seem like even cockier teenagers than I thought him to be--saw that paper.  Actually, I hope they did, and that he's talked about it with them.