I Forgot to Remember to Forget

It's been just a little over a year since I began living full-time as a woman.  During the past year, I have sometimes wondered if I will ever stop being so conscious that I am transgender, and just come to think of myself as an ordinary woman.  I have recently figured out that that's unlikely; not because I'm obsessed with my transgender identity, but because I lack cisgender privilege.

Before I explain more fully, let me say that my experiences so far have been overwhelmingly positive.  I seem to be accepted and identified as a woman most of the time.  I still have a job, a place to live, and I still have almost all my friends and some of my family. To quote Joe Walsh, "life's been good to me so far."

Still, I am very aware that my situation is, and likely will always be, somewhat precarious.  Our society is still quite a distance away from fully accepting transgender people; recent actions by the current administration, like banning us from the military and trying to take away our employment protections, highlight this very clearly.  Basically, what it boils down to is this:  if people perceive me as cisgender, I can expect to have no difficulties beyond those women normally face (which are not inconsiderable). But if I'm perceived as transgender, there are likely to be ramifications.  Let me give some examples.

• If I go to a public restroom or changing room, will I be harassed?  Will security or police be called?
• Will I be denied advancement or given unfairly poor evaluations at work?
• If I go on a job interview, will I be given a fair chance, or turned away because of my identity?
• Will potential dates reject me because I'm trans?
• If I go to a healthcare provider, will I be harassed, ridiculed, or denied service?
• If I visit another church, will I be turned away or driven out?
• If I perform music in a public place, will I be harassed or physically assaulted?
• If I go through a full-body scanner in an airport, will the TSA detain and ridicule me?
• If I interact with the justice system, will I be treated fairly?
• If, god forbid, I am arrested for some reason, will I be placed in jail with men?  If that happens, will I only be verbally assaulted, or will I be beaten up, raped, or murdered?

I am not imagining these things; they have all happened to transgender people I know or have read about in the news.  So you see, I don't have the luxury of forgetting that I'm trans.  If I ever did, there are many people who would be only too glad to remind me, and show me exactly what they think my proper place is.

More Coming Out Stories

In observance of National Coming Out Day, here are a couple more stories (coming out is an ongoing process that never ends, seemingly).  This time I want to illustrate the great support I have experienced at my church. So many LGBTQ+ people have had terrible, traumatizing experiences with their churches, but all churches are not the same.

The first story is from 2005, when I was in a music covenant group.  For those of you who are not familiar with that concept, a covenant group is a small group of people who come together regularly to talk about a particular topic and how it relates to them personally--in this case, music.  Our group had become very close, and I felt that I needed to share this important part of my life with them.  My then-girlfriend (later wife) was also a member of the group; I talked it over with her, and she was very encouraging.  So I contacted the facilitator of the group and asked if to be allocated some extra time at the next meeting to talk about something very important to me.

The night of the meeting, I was very anxious as the facilitator had announced that I had asked for additional time.  When it was time for me to speak, I started nervously by asking that what I was about to reveal remain confidential.  As I continued speaking, I began to relax, because I knew the group was with me.  I explained that I was transgender, and tried to illustrate what that meant with the help of a chart and some photos.  There were many questions, thoughtful comments, tears, and a lot of hugs, and I left the meeting feeling very loved and supported; in fact, I was walking on air! 

Five years later, our church was going through the process of becoming a Welcoming Congregation, meaning that we would explicitly welcome LGBTQ+ people.  As part of that process, there was to be a Q&A sessions where people from the congregation could hear the stories and ask questions of a panel of LGBTQ+ people.  With some trepidation, I decided to volunteer to be on the panel.  The Music Covenant Group had faithfully honored my confidentiality, so this was going to be a bigger coming out; additionally, this time I would be presenting as a woman.

The night of the event, I was a nervous wreck, though supported by my loving wife. I was actually physically shaking when I entered the sanctuary; a kind friend offered me some wine to help calm my anxiety.  As old friends started filtering in, I noticed that a few of them walked by without speaking to me, which I found unnerving.  I sat with my co-panelists--we had no gay or queer participants, so we were a BLT panel--and one by one, we recounted our stories.  Again, there were many interesting questions and supportive comments.  I learned that the reason why some people had not spoken to me is that they didn't recognize me!  I was even invited to participate in the church women's group if I wished, a gesture that really touched my heart.  After we finished, people were lining up to hug all three of us, with smiles and tears comingled. I left feeling elated.  A few weeks later, the congregation unanimously voted to become a Welcoming Congregation.

I did soon after began attending women's group events.  Eventually, I began coming to church services presenting as female; at first only some of the time, but soon all of the time.  Church was the first place that I transitioned, and I remain a grateful part of that loving community.