Documenting Us

Nearly all of us who are gender-variant have faced, at one time or another, this dilemma.

We apply for a job, to school or for benefits.  We have been taking hormones, living by the gender of our minds and spirits and have, in various ways, changed our appearance, style of dress and demeanor to reflect that gender.  And we've changed our names.

So we have driver's licences, passports and other IDs with our new names and photos of ourselves.  But there's one problem:  the "M" or "F" box still reflects what we presented to the world before our changes.

If we're lucky, the person who asked for our documents is confused.  If we're not, we face ridicule, discrimination and even violence. Either way, we've been "outed" and are forced to explain our stories to audiences that can be none-too-sympathetic.

A cisgender person does not have to so explain him or herself to go to school, get a job or benefits or even to rent or test-drive a car.  So why should we be expected to do that?

At least the author of this article seemed to understand, to some degree, our dilemma.  But the comments were full of people trying to sound snarky but who ended up looking stupid and/or hateful. I mean, who changes his or her gender to commit identity fraud, hijack planes or commit other crimes.  Because there is a "paper trail" (or, perhaps, digital footprint) of our transition, we would be easier to track than most other people.

Some states and municipalities--including, thankfully, the ones in which I live--have come to understand what I've just said, and have changed policies accordingly.  But there are still three states--Idaho, Tennessee and Ohio--that won't change the gender on a birth certificate, even after a person has had gender reassignment surgery. 

I can see that progress has been made even during the time of my own transition.  But, as I can also see, there is still much to be done.    

He Would Have Had An Easier Time In Georgia

The State of Georgia actually makes one aspect of life for transgender people easier than the City of New York does.

Yes, you read that right.

How did I learn that?  Experience.

You see, I was born in Georgia.  I spent only the first seven months of my life there and have only been there once, for a few hours, since then.

After I had my surgery, I had to send my birth certificate, a certified letter from Dr. Bowers and a certified copy of the court order for my name change, along with $35.  Within two weeks, a new birth certificate with my new name and true gender arrived in the mail.

Compare that with what happened to Louis Birney, right here in New York City. Around the same time I had my surgery, he had his.  He is nearly two decades older than I am.

He sent the letter from his surgeon to the City's Department of Health, which issues birth certificate.  (In Georgia, they're issued by the Department of Public Records.)  In response, the DoH demanded a psychiatric report and detailed surgical records in order to turn the "F" to an "M" on his birth certificate.

Manhattan State Supreme Court Justice Paul G.Feinman has ruled that the Health Department should re-evaluate Birney's case.  The judge also questioned the Department's understanding of "the lives and experience of transgender people," noting that "It does not seem likely that an individual would go through all the required years of preparation for surgical transition, including psychotherapy, undergo major surgery, assume life under his or her new gender, and then decide it was all a mistake and change back."

Feinman faulted the Department had provided a "clear, straightforward list" of requirements for changing his birth certificate.  To their credit, the Georgia officials provided such a document for me.  So did the State Department before I applied for a new passport. 

It's about time for the city to catch up to Georgia and the State Department.  
 

New Passport, New Journeys

Today I got word that my new passport will arrive shortly--around Monday, the 24th, according to the State Department. Of course I am excited about that: It's yet another sign of recognition of what I, Marci, my friends, some of my family and others already know about me. A few of them understood and accepted it as soon as I "came out," or even before.

Like I always say: If you want a government to do something, you have to do it first. And maybe, just maybe, they'll follow.

I thought my passport photo was fairly good. The woman who took it--a clerk at the Duane-Reade across from St. Vincent's Hospital in Manhattan--told me that the State Department frowns upon people smiling (She didn't say it quite that way, but hey, what do you expect from someone making $8 an hour?) in passport photos, so I had to turn down the wattage on that beam that's lit up my face just about continuously. Everyone who's seen me lately has commented on how happy I look. So it was pretty hard for me not to smile. But somehow I did it: After all, I'm a woman now, and women can do anything. Right?

I've already decided that during my winter break or next summer--if time, finances and my healing permit--I want to go to England to see Aunt Pat and France to see Janine (if she's up to it) and Marie-Jeanne. The new me, with a new passport!

I was tempted to ask whether I could have my new passport book with a lilac or mauve cover. Not that there's nothing wrong with the dark blue cover all of my previous passports have had. But, hey, if I'm paying $75 for something, shouldn't I get to choose the color?

Oh well. After all of my talk about the spiritual journey I've taken, now I'll have something I'll need to take a certain kind of physical journey. Except that I don't see the latter as a journey: After all, who calls travelling by plane a "journey?"

I guess it's a journey if you're changed at the end of it.