Let’s talk about “She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

 

Like many others, I hadn’t heard of JKR when her first book hit the shelves of bookstores here in the U.S. In fact, at this point, I can’t tell you how that first book entered my reading list (and for the sake of this post, it really doesn’t matter), but once it did, my family and I were hooked. We were those people that were at the bookstore at midnight for the book releases, and we usually read the whole night through. We bought multiple copies of the books so that we could all read at the same time. We were just as passionate when the movies came out, and we bought them too when they became available. To put it plainly, I loved the books and the world they represented… Not anymore.

So, what happened? JKR happened. Now, I respect everyone’s right to have and voice their opinion. I also believe that freedom of speech does not equate to freedom from consequence. JKR has shown herself to be transphobic through multiple statements made over several years. I will not post the links to her statements here; I refuse to pollute my blog with her vitriol.

Let us talk about a few truths about being transgender in the United States. Research done by the Williams Institute finds that trans people (over 16) are four times more likely than cisgender people to be victimized (Williams Institute, 2021). The rates of violence and murder directed against the transgender community are equally as high, only the reported crimes. There are many more incidents where the victim is not identified as being transgender by the family. How about the other side of the equation? I searched the FBI’s sexual assault database looking for instances of a transgender person as the perpetrator of sexual assault. I couldn’t find any mention in the reports for the last five years reported. When I looked at RAINN’s (a sexual violence hotline) data, none of their statistics indicated gender identity as a characteristic of a perpetrator (RAINN, 2021). Now, I am not so naïve as to think that trans people do not commit crimes, even sexual assault; I am saying that you are more likely to get hit by lightning than to be assaulted by a transgender person.

Why did I say I would be talking about She Who Will Not Be Named when all I’ve done is talk about books and statistics? Well, it has to do with representation and the impact of words. Compared to her, my voice is quiet, barely a whisper. I cannot be heard above the crowd. Even all the voices of the transgender men and women that are speaking up, wanting to be heard and seen, cannot compete with the magnitude of her voice, and in the world, we live in today, those loud voices are paid attention to. So, her words negatively impact the lives of people that just want to live their own life to the fullest. Her words strip away the joy that we felt and reading the stories and enjoying those worlds she created. Her words can kill people, maybe not directly, by validating negative stereotypes about the transgender population. To separate the art from the artist, Picasso is a great example. He was a terrible human being, but his art stands out. The thing is, Picasso is not around to further tarnish his legacy by saying or doing something that we find objectionable; JKR is.

So, I will not support anything having to do with her. I’m not going to read the books I own; I will not watch the movies. I am going to speak up when she is brought into the conversation. Anything that uses the world she created, I will not support. I know that that will not make the slightest difference to her; she already has my money. Nor am I stupid enough to believe that all of the major corporations that use that world to make money are suddenly going to stop because a trans woman from Colorado is upset. I do this for me. I do this for the teenager struggling with who they are and are bombarded with the negativity she spews. I do this for the little kid that is just exploring their identity. At least one voice out in the world that objects and will speak out.

 

Hugs and Kisses…

Vicki

 

References

RAINN. (2021, December 14). Perpetrators of Sexual Violence: Statistics. Retrieved from RAINN: https://www.rainn.org/statistics/perpetrators-sexual-violence

Williams Institute. (2021, March 23). Press Releases. Retrieved from UCLA School of Law: Williams Institute: https://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/press/ncvs-trans-press-release/

 

 

I'm still here

 WOW!! I just realized that it's been a year since my last post. I can't honestly claim that I've been too busy. I haven't. What I have been doing is existing. Way back when, when I first started my transition, I read somewhere that transitioning is not a cure-all. That transitioning only fixes one aspect. If you were depressed before, you will still be depressed after. I honestly thought that I understood that, and at some level I did, but the reality of it hits hard. Now, let me just interject here, I am not saying that I regret my surgery, I do not, because it does address one aspect.

I am not going to have this be a long post. I just want to let y'all know that I'm still here. Look for more from me soon.

Hugs and kisses...

Vicki

I was afraid to go to sleep on August 31st.

 

I was afraid to go to sleep on August 31^st. I was scared I was going to miss the alarm the next morning. The alarm that was going to start me on the way to Denver for my surgery. This day had been a long time coming. When I was first put on the waiting list, it was going to be three years before I could have my gender confirmation surgery. Three years to wait to have my body and mind in harmony. Then I got a call; my surgery had been moved up. It was going to happen in June or 2020. The time was cut in half! Then more good news, it would now be in April! Well, we all know what happened around that timeframe. The dumpster fire that was 2020 was starting to rear its ugly head. I was driving to Denver for my pre-operative appointment when I got a call from the clinic telling me that my appointment had been canceled and that my surgery was postponed until November. I was going to have to wait another six months, and even that was tentative. I was crushed, and the news sent me down a depressive spiral that I’m still working my way out of.

In the long run, things worked out, the stars aligned, and my surgery was scheduled for September 1^st. So, here we are, where I started this, worrying on the last day of August that I wasn’t going to wake up on time and miss my appointment. Luckily, and with the help of my wife, I didn’t sleep through the alarm. We both got up and did all the prep that I had to do before my surgery, and we made it to the hospital with time to spare. We were still in a time of COVID, so my wife wasn’t allowed to be with me in the pre-op room, they did let her be in the surgical waiting room, though, and the surgical team did keep her advised of how things were going. The surgery was scheduled for six hours, but it was finished in under five. Dr. Hyer, my surgeon, told me more than once that I was an overachiever, starting with the surgery and continuing through my recovery in the hospital.

So here comes the medical part; you can skip this paragraph if you want. I know that some might read this that find these topics uncomfortable. There are variations in the surgery. These differences vary from surgeon to surgeon and have their roots in the surgeon that taught them (there are a lot of surgeons in that sentence). In my case, Dr. Hyer learned from Dr. Marcy Bowers, who has been doing this surgery for decades. I opted for a full-depth vaginoplasty, the other option being a minimal depth vaginoplasty. The technique that was used was a penile inversion. This is where the skin of the penis is inverted and used as the neo-vagina, and the scrotum is used to create the inner and outer labia. A segment of the head of the penis is used to create the clitoris. Minimal depth vaginoplasty is very much the same without creating a vaginal canal. Externally, they both look similar. I healed pretty well, with the only real issue being a persistent infection that has since cleared up. As an aside, I have it on good authority that the end results look natural.

I went into the hospital on a Tuesday and back home on the following Thursday, only three days in the hospital. The quick turnaround is standard for this surgery done at Denver Health. When I was released, I had a packing in my vaginal canal and a catheter. I didn’t have much pain and only rarely used the pain killers I was prescribed. Most of my pain was controlled by over-the-counter pain medications. My first visit back to the doctor was just a week after my surgery. This was to have the packing and catheter removed. Now, I can’t tell you how much of a relief getting the catheter out was. The packing was uncomfortable, but the catheter was just plain maddening. It interfered with my ability to sleep. It was always in the way and had to be regularly emptied. The same day I also had my first physical therapy appointment. This is where I was taught how to dilate. Dilation uses a hard plastic phallus to maintain the diameter and depth of the new vaginal canal, and for the first twelve weeks, I had to dilate three times a day. Now, before you ask, now it is not fun; it is stretching the tissues in order to keep the space that was created by the doctor from closing up. After twelve weeks, I was able to go down to twice a day, and I’ll keep that up through nine months, and then only once a day. At a year, I can dilate one to three times a week.

These are the mechanics of the process, have the surgery, heal, and live the rest of my life. There is so much more than that when going through transition. I have been on hormone replacement therapy for better than five years, so my transition has been going on for a while. During that time, I grew breasts, dressed in women’s clothing, and used the lady’s room.

This brings us to all the other stuff. Having gender confirmation surgery is undoubtedly an important step, but it is not the fix for all the problems you may be experiencing. Those problems will all still be there to deal with. What the surgery does is remove one of the issues common to gender dysphoria, which is hating your body. There may be other surgeries that a transgender person wants to have done, or they may not want to make any changes to their bodies. These are very personal decisions. I chose to have the surgery I did because I wanted to make sure to have the most physically challenging surgery as soon as I could, even though it meant that I did not alter those physical attributes that identified me as transgender.

All of the insecurities that I had before the surgery are still there. My face is too masculine, and my breasts are too small. I look at my body and see only the imperfections. You know the ones I’m talking about, our weight, our appearance, how we compare to all the others in our world. Those are all still there; my surgery didn’t take them away. I am not ashamed to admit that I see a therapist, not specifically for my gender dysphoria, but because life is hard, and sometimes, I need to have someone to talk to.

When I first started writing this blog entry, I had a general idea of what I wanted to say, I slightly went off the rails, but that’s okay. I do not regret my surgery. When I woke up in the recovery room, it was like there was a huge weight lifted from my chest (tiny boobs, remember); I had made it past one of the biggest hurdles in my transition. I was happy and kept on smiling through my recovery. That is not to say that I didn’t have hard days, but I know I made the right decision for me.

 

Hugs and kisses

Vicki

A Red-Letter Day

On Tuesday, September 1^st, my wife and I woke up at 3 am for the trip to Denver (64 miles to the north). We have to make an appointment at Denver Health at 5:30 that morning so that Dr. Hyer could perform gender confirmation surgery on me. My surgery started at 7:30 and took 5 hours to complete. I woke from anesthesia with a new vulva and all the component parts.

I'm going to stop for a moment because I want to cover an important subject, that's personal privacy. I am choosing to divulge that I have had "the surgery" of my own free will. I do so for several reasons. First and foremost, I crave the attention. Those of you that know me know that that is not the case. I am sharing because there are people out there that are struggling with being transgender. They find skewed information or even outright lies. When I was very young, I knew that I was different, that something didn't match up, but I didn't have the vocabulary to describe how I felt. It took me well into adulthood to come to the realization what was going on with me. You see, the hardest person to come out to was myself. The difference between me as a child and me as an adult was access to the internet and all of the information it contained. I started off convincing myself that I was a crossdresser. That it was all about the clothes. I knew better, but I couldn't allow myself to believe it. It took me years of counseling and self-reflection to come to terms with who I truly am.

So, back to my original point, just because I volunteer this information does not mean that it is okay to ask other transgender individuals about their surgeries. Nobody has the right to know what is in your pants, and you don't have the right to know what is in someone else's pants. If they want to share that with you, that is totally and entirely up to them.

Back to my surgery, or rather the recovery. I spent Tuesday through Thursday in the hospital; I was released on Thursday afternoon with a packing in my vagina, a foley catheter, and some pain pills. Let's talk about those pain pills, and please remember that this is my experience only. I cannot speak for others going through the procedure. I had a pain pill the day of surgery, while I was in the hospital, I only took acetaminophen, I took my next pain pill the night that I got home, the drive home was torture, 64 miles of road construction. I've only had to take one more since then; I have been making do with alternating acetaminophen and ibuprofen. The pain has been manageable using regular, over the counter medications. Again, this is me, your mileage may vary.

What have I learned so far? When you get home, make sure you have pads, thin maxi pads work best (my wife read that in the documentation and got some for me). I would also recommend some panties that are a size larger than you usually wear because there will be swelling, and it will be significant. Dr. Hyer calls this the "Shark Bite" stage, and boy is she ever right. You are going to be stitched together like a patchwork quilt. While you're in the hospital, make sure you eat. Your body needs the energy to repair itself, but watch what you eat, because going #2 in a bedpan while you're bandaged and stitched up is not fun, and if you're my age, it's embarrassing and humiliating too (not that I would have any idea, mind). When you get home, walk. This keeps things moving and also makes sure that you don't get blood clots (I read that in the paperwork, BTW). If you can bear to look at yourself, get a hand mirror (another thing I have to thank my wife for), it will help you keep track of your healing and also allow you to see trouble spots. Also, be prepared for the swelling; for me, it was significant and very uncomfortable. The swelling is probably a bigger issue for me than the pain. Ice packs help, but the only thing to do is wait for it to go down. One thing I was not prepared for was the mixed messages my genitals were sending me. I keep getting tingling and electrical shocks, all part of the healing process, but disconcerting anyway.

I want to take some time to talk about my hospital stay. Everyone I had contact with at Denver Health has been amazing and supportive. All of the nurses and CNAs that helped me were amazing and made me feel taken care of. Dr. Hyer did a great job, and I feel that her focus was on me and on making sure that when it's all said and done, that I am happy with the result. I cannot express how much I appreciate the staff there.

Tea Party

I’ve been writing this post for a long time. It’s been bouncing around in the back of my mind doing damage and wrecking my confidence. Now, don’t misunderstand what I’m saying, these are not complaints, it’s my insecurities doing everything in their power to push me back into a box that’s too small for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if others experience the same thing, it’s not a trans thing, well, not exclusively.

I’m going to start with a question, do you ever sit at home and see social media posts from your friends having fun and fume that they didn’t invite you? Does that start a spiral of telling yourself that they really don’t like you? Are you that person that never feels heard in a conversation? Do you take all of those negative thoughts and feelings floating around and invite them in to sit down and have tea with you? See, I do that. I know that I can be the one going out and having fun, inviting people out with me, but I don't. My insecurities keep me home, it's comfortable there. And those same insecurities tell me that no one wants to spend time with a 60-year-old transgender woman. I have entire conversations in my head where I talk about my fears and loves, my dreams and hopes, and all the things I really want to say to someone… in my head. Oh my god, these are some amazing conversations, but no one ever hears.

All of this living in my own head feeds my doubts about what I’m doing and what my future looks like. It also makes me want to stay home rather than going out and doing the things I enjoy. I love rugby and my teammates, it’s an amazing group of women that have accepted me, warts and all, but my brain is working really hard to convince me that I don’t belong there… No ladies, I am not going anywhere, I’m too stubborn to give in… I've said it before, depression is a warm fuzzy blanket made from porcupine quills that we cannot get rid of.

We all see social media posts about not knowing the pain behind other’s eyes. I’m here to tell you, it’s true, we all hide something. There is a sociological concept called dramaturgy proposed by Erving Goffman. It’s the idea that there is a distinct delineation between the front stage and backstage behavior. There is the person we show the world, our front stage selves. This is the person we are with the world at large where there is an audience present. Then there is backstage, the person we are with our friends and families, you know, those people that we trust and are comfortable with. I want to throw in another idea, that of the dressing room. The dressing room is where we sit and put on the face that we show the world. Any of you that were in theater know how stage makeup can drastically your appearance.

I did that for most of my life; I hid myself from the world by playing the role that was expected of me, I put on the stage makeup making me a boy and went out into the world. But I wasn’t just hiding from the world; I was hiding from myself. As I look back on my life, I see all of those instances that were clues that I was too scared to acknowledge. When you live your life hiding, it becomes difficult to allow yourself to be yourself.

I guess I’m a work in progress, and I’m scared of the end result, but I’m going to get there, come hell or high water…

And I have to thank all the wonderful people in my life without whom I would still be playing a role. I especially want to thank my wife who is standing beside me while I go on this journey because she is going through this transition as much as I am.

A Rebuttal

Earlier today, I read part of an opinion piece by a young lady (Lightcap, 2018) that was part of a lawsuit challenging the rights of transgender students to use the dressing room that aligns with their gender. This was a policy that her local school district had put into place. What struck me was the fundamental mistake that she (and others that object to transgender people in gendered spaces) mad was that she looked at the person in the dressing room and saw nothing but that person’s genitalia. Now, I have to admit to a certain amount of bias here, I am transgender after all, and to a certain degree, I can even understand her discomfort. The thing is though, that person as a transgender individual, knows to the core of their being that they are a male or female confined to the wrong body.

The American Psychological Association (APA) describes being transgender as “persons whose gender identity, gender expression or behavior does not conform to that typically associated with the sex to which they were assigned at birth” (American Psychological Association, 2018, pp. 1, para 1). That means that the person in her dressing room, regardless of physical makeup, was female. There are numerous professional medical associations that agree that transgender individuals are indeed the gender they (we) claim they are.

The basis of her argument was that having transgender individuals in her dressing room violated her right to privacy. So, let’s look at the concept of privacy as it applies to dressing rooms. You are in a room with a number of other individuals in various states of dress and undress., showering and taking care of various personal needs. How does the concept of privacy even apply to this situation? Is she concerned that the transgender individual may be attracted to her? That is possible; it can also be true of any number of homosexual individuals in the room with her. So, sexual attraction is also not a valid argument.

So, where does that leave us? In any kind of dressing room, there can not be any real expectation of privacy, and as I stated before, the person in the room is in a very real sense, as female as she is, so it’s not a boy in the room, it’s a girl with a penis in the room. And since there are girls (or boys) that like other girls (or boys), even the idea of sexual attraction is not a valid argument. So what about the person being lude or sexually aggressive? Well, that is an entirely different situation, and quite honestly it would be just as wrong if the person that was behaving in that manner was female-bodied.

Now let me tell you about my insecurities. I really want to go back to the gym, I also would love to join a dance group and learn to really dance. I don’t because of fearing just those kinds of reactions. Now, for those that don’t know, I play on a women’s rugby team, and I’m not self-conscious in the least around my teammates or our opponents, but the fear of going into a dressing room and getting that kind of a reaction keeps me from doing either. Put yourself in the shoes of that poor, insecure, teenaged transgender girl that had another girl run screaming from the room because she was in it.

Hugs and Kisses

Vicki

References

American Psychological Association. (2018, November 30). Transgender People, Gender Identity and Gender Expression. Retrieved from American Psychological Association: https://www.apa.org/topics/lgbt/transgender.aspx

Lightcap, A. (2018, November 29). My high school's transgender bathroom policies violate the privacy of the rest of us. Retrieved from USA Today: https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/voices/2018/11/29/transgender-bathroom-debate-privacy-school-lawsuit-column/2123946002/

The fear of moving forward

I haven’t written in a long time. I can always find an excuse not to write, but I woke up this morning way too early and had this thing bouncing around in my head, and I just needed to put it ours there.

I’m scared. And I mean all the time. Some of that fear is easy to overcome, I’m scared to walk out of the door in the morning, so I walk out of the door, nothing bad happens, and I move on with my day. I’m scared to put myself in social situations. I have a friend who sadly moved away, that would invite me to her “Girl’s Nights“ I was scared to go, but I went, and I had fun, and I was accepted. I play on a women’s rugby team; I won’t tell you how scared I was going to my first practice or my first game. I almost baled on both! This is the day to day fear that goes along with being me. That’s not the fear I want to talk about.

The fear I want to talk about is the fear that keeps me from moving forward. It’s crippling. It is the fear of taking that final step. So, just a little background, I don’t pass, and that’s okay. Passing or not passing is a personal choice and is an entire blog post on its own. Suffice it to say that I would love to look more feminine than I do. Starting with a face that looks entirely too masculine to boobs that I wish were just a little bit bigger to other parts of my body that do not match who I am. There are days when I have body dysphoria so bad that I spend it on the verge of tears. Almost anything will trigger it, from looking at clothes that I wish I could carry off wearing to sitting quietly and thinking. There is a fix for this; my employer provides coverage for transgender individuals. I can get my face fixed, and my other body issues taken care of. Here is where that fear comes in. I’m scared to do it! I know that I am a woman… There is no doubt in my mind what so ever… But I am scared to go through with that next step.

I've already made changes to my body, some of them irreversible, but it’s the last step that I cannot take. There is some fear of the surgeries themselves, and I know the recovery times are long and pain-filled, but it’s not the fear of the pain that’s stopping me. In my head, I tell myself that I can’t afford it, even with the insurance, but that’s not it either. You see my fear is two-fold, and it the fear of the unknown, it is being afraid that by taking this next step that I would somehow lose the most important people in my life. This fear is irrational. I know that my wife loves me and she has chosen to stay with me because of that love. I know that my friends and family won’t abandon me, they just want to see me happy. None of that matters in my own head. All of the worst-case scenarios play out in my head. I can’t even take the first step.

I know that there will come a time when the need to move forward will overpower the fear of the next step, but in the meantime, fear keeps me where I am.

Hugs and kisses

Vicki

Rugby, Anyone?

We live in a world where we are expected to fit in, this is true for transgender women as well. We are expected to "pass." For those that don't know, passing is where you look like a cis-gendered woman to the extent that if you don't tell anyone, people don't know that you're trans. A lot has been written about passing in other places, so I’ll leave you this:

               

I would if I could, but I can’t, so I shan't.

Now down to the purpose of this post. I like rugby (do you understand my blurb on passing?). It’s much more entertaining than American football. I like it so much that I want to play. Now as a trans woman, you need to make sure of a number of things if you want to play a sport, most important among them, are you allowed to.  So, I spent some time on Saturday searching for and finding a local woman’s rugby club and found that they are looking for players for the new season. I chatted with the woman monitoring their Facebook page and discussed possibly trying out. I was upfront about my transgender status and my age. I told her that my fitness level left a lot to be desired and that my talents in the sport were dubious, and yet she still wanted me to come out, she was very welcoming.

She wasn’t sure of the rules from her rugby union regarding transgender players but thought that there may be a hormone replacement requirement of six months. Folks, I got that hands down. Since I’m a naturally curious person I decided to do a little research on my own and found that USA Rugby does not have an independent policy on transgender women playing, instead, they use World Rugby’s gender policy (https://assets.usarugby.org/docs/medical/Gender_Policy_EN.pdf) Which stipulates that in order for a transgender person to play on a team that matches their gender, the player will have had have undergone gender confirmation surgery. I was crushed! Here was a welcoming group where I might have fit in and I can’t play due to a policy that was put in place more than ten years ago. Even the Olympics have no surgical requirements, just hormones.

Now in the interest of fairness, World Rugby does say on their website, that they are going to review their transgender policy after the Olympic Committee changed their rules (http://playerwelfare.worldrugby.org/?documentid=175). 

What it comes down to, for me, is that I want to play. I’m sure that some of you out there will think that I would have an unfair advantage. Medical research indicates that that is not the case (Jones, Arcelus, Bouman, & Haycraft, 2017). I’m not going to get into all of the medical reasoning, but I want to point out that I would not be the largest, tallest, or fastest player on the field.

Back to my desire to play rugby, the person I talked to still want’s me to a practice, for me that’s a win. I may not be able to play this year, but maybe, just maybe, there is hope for the future.

Hugs and Kisses,

Vicki

References

Jones, B. A., Arcelus, J., Bouman, W. P., & Haycraft, E. (2017). Sport and Transgender People: A Systematic Review of the Literature Relating to Sport Participation and Competitive Sport Policies. Sports Medicine (Auckland, N.z.), 701-716.

A New Year

Hello world!

Well, we made it to the start of a new year. Now, I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions, but this year I decided to make myself some promises.

First: I will stop giving in to my fears. I realized a long time ago that I will never be beautiful, or even pretty. I do not pass. I doubt I ever will. So, wearing what I want, going where I want, whenever I want, will be my mantra.

Second: I will not dress my age. I mean really, what does that even mean? I'm not going to wear something that makes me look like I"m trying to be 15 again, but if I want to wear leggings, I'm wearing leggings. If that super cute dress is above the knee... time to show off my knees.

Third: This one will be the hardest, I will be open, and honest with everyone, about anything. I may refuse to answer a question, but I won't be insulted by it (Hopefully)

Hugs and kisses, Vicki

It's morning in Colorado, and I've been thinking

Hello World!

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything, this is not because I don’t have anything to say, but rather because I feel so overwhelmed by the noise and hatred that seems to populate the world.

I’ve been out as a transgender woman for about three years now; this is the first time that I am concerned. Don’t get me wrong; I have never had a bad experience as a trans woman in public. Aside from a few stares and questioning looks nothing. I am the exception, and I know it. I have come to expect that every time I leave the house, I am going to be accosted in some way. That is the sad part in all this; it’s not the act that’s the problem it’s the fear and anticipation of the act that affects me. When I sit alone in a restaurant or coffee shop, I anticipate that someone will make a snide or hurtful comment. I go to the grocery store, and every glance is a potential attack.

This has led me to the point of questioning the wisdom of being out. Could I have continued to live a closeted trans woman? Or would I have taken the path of 40% of us and attempted to take my life? I know, for me, regardless of how hateful society has become, I made the right decision. I chose to live my life a toe person I truly am, and no one can take that from me.

So, let’s get back to that fear. If you know a transgender person or even know of a transgender person, let them know that you are not their enemy. You don’t need to be their friend, but just showing them that you are willing to leave them in peace, helps immensely to reduce the stress of not conforming to societal norms. If you have questions, ask. We don’t bite, and if we don’t want to talk about something, we’ll let you know. What’s under our clothes is our business, just like what’s under your clothes is your business, If we’re not going to get naked and sweaty together, neither of us needs to know the other’s particulars.

Oh, and as a reminder, being transgender is not a mental illness, it is a condition where the person you are when you close your eyes is not the person you see when you open your eyes and look in the mirror. There are a number of different ways that I can justify my Knowledge of my true gender. There are brain autopsies that show that the brains of transgender individuals are structurally like those of the gender that they identify with. There are a number of different studies that show that being transgender is something you are born with. When you get right down to it though, none of that matters, what matters is that I am living an authentic existence as a woman.

One last thing, if you have a question of me, ask. I am not afraid to talk about my experience.

Hugs and Kisses,

Vicki

Trans Day of Visibility

I’m posting this a bit early, but I don’t think anyone is going to complain. March 31st is Transgender Day of Visibility. Well, here I am. Shocker, I know.

I came to my realization late in life, I was in my 50’s. That’s not to say that I didn’t know much earlier in life that there was something that didn’t fit. I kept deflecting and blaming other things for never fitting in to the male ideal. I always found it easier to relate to women. I was never the quintessential man. Now, looking at all this, it doesn’t seem to add up to being transgender, what I don’t have the vocabulary for is the utter feeling of not fitting into the body I was born in, of never being able to relate to what was expected of me.

The day I started HRT, it was like my body said “Ahhh!” For the first time in my life I felt right. My body was finally in sync with my mind, well, sort of. I have not completed my journey, but I am getting there. It’s not a journey I’ve taken by myself, my family went on the journey with me, they have been supportive and accepting.

The sad truth is that I am very much the exception, coming out as trans usually means a loss of friends and family. Up to 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide. Being trans puts you at higher risk for losing your home and your job and don’t get me started on the danger of assault.
So again, here I am, I am trans, I will not hide, I will not disappear. I’m a firm believer that closets are for clothes, lots and lots of fabulous clothes.

Like Oscar Wilde said, “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.”
Love you all… Vicki

The Morning After

This morning I allowed myself to shed tears over the future, I gave into depression and hopelessness. I fear for my nation over the next four years. I fear for the lasting damage that can be done by an uncaring and abusive government. I’m sure I will be driven to tears more than just today, just like I’m sure I will never allow that feeling of hopelessness and depression to linger more than a moment.

The attitude and demeanor of a nation are shaped by those that lead it, given the history of the man now in the White House; the prognosis is not good. In his inaugural address, Mr. Trump stated that he was going to give power back to the people, I say we hold him to that promise with the strength and determination that saw this country win its independence, that we band together and support each other when hate and bigotry are arrayed against us, that we never turn a blind eye to injustice.

This election has awakened in me what had lain dormant for all these years, that is a deep wellspring of determination that my voice is heard. I am a transgender woman, no, I am a woman, I reject the need to label me as anything other than that. If you want to label me, call me brash, call me strong, call me friend, but you will never call me timid. My name is Vicki Pech, I am a woman, and it’s time for me to start roaring!

The Horny Dilemma

I have the opportunity to have my surgeries done for basically the cost of my annual maximum out of pocket from my insurance. Now this sounds fantastic, thrilling even, so why does it scare me so much? Some of my concerns are medical, the dangers involved in having major surgery. This is not what is holding me back. 

I am petrified. The sad truth is that when all of these procedures seemed to be pipe dreams, I could internalize my body dysphoria. I really don’t hate my body to the point where it upsets me to look at it, instead I’ll look at something external, an ad for underwear or swimsuits, and say to myself that it’s cute, then I get hit with the sledgehammer of a realization that I will never look right in whatever it is I’m looking at.

In a way, this harkens back to the distorted body image of the western world. As a woman, you have to look a certain way. As a woman of a certain age, you can no longer wear this or that. If you’re tall, you wear flats to seem shorter. If you’re short, you wear platforms to appear taller.

Circling back to the surgeries, in a way I second guess myself. Am I wanting to have the surgery to make my clothes fit better or am I doing it because not to do it will eventually push me over the edge? Until I figure this out, I can’t make the decision. So, in the meantime, I struggle.

Hugs and Kisses

Vicki

Another take on inclusion

     Inclusion, when we're talking about the LGBTQI community, refers to the inclusion in society as a whole. That’s not the inclusion I want to talk about today. Trans men and women often find ourselves alone and isolated simply because we are Trans. We may be shunned by friends and family; we may even lose our livelihood and homes. All in all, not a happy situation.

What I want to talk about is the regular day to day inclusion that can make all the difference in the world.  When we presented fully as our perceived genders, we were invited to parties and gatherings, well, most of the time. We were included in the lives of those around us. When we come out as trans that all stops to varying degrees. People are uncomfortable inviting us to their parties because we are so different. Now, here comes a further complication, what gatherings do we fit in to? Do you invite a Trans woman to a bridal or baby shower? Or a Trans man to go on a hunting or camping trip? Where do we belong?

       I know where I like to think where I belong, all of the above. I promise I won’t look dress like a drag performer for your party or event. I promise I won’t shy away from baiting a hook. And just another point when you think about that friend or family member that just came out as Trans, the person that you knew is still there, the personality that made you click with that person, to begin with, it still there, if anything more so because we are finally able to live the lives we always should have had; it’s just the outside that’s changing.

      So the next time you make out that list of people you want to include, don’t forget us.

Hugs and Kisses

Vicki

Are we going backwards?

I’m angry, and sad, and scared, and baffled. I you want to know why, just look at the news. Transgender people are being vilified. We are being told that our right to take care of a basic human need endangers others. That we are violating a basic right to privacy. Really? How is me going to the bathroom going to do any of that? I am not a threat; neither are other trans people. For the most part I am so scared to go to the bathroom that I go in, do my business, wash my hands and get out. I try not to make eye contact. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Endangering others? How so? So far the only non-trans men that are using the trans inclusive policies are those associated with that hate group the American Family Association, they are sending men to test the inclusive policy at Target stores. When you look at the news, the people that are in danger are the trans people of this country. Have you seen the video of the woman attacking the trans person on the subway while a train full of people did NOTHING?????

The reason that the suicide rate for trans people is so high is because was feel that we are alone in the fight and sometime it just gets too hard. The despair is too great. There is no one there to help us through it. I’m very lucky, I live in a state where there are protections in place, I work for a company that supports me, and I have a wife that loves me.

We are not the problem. When you look at the statistics, violence and abuse is most likely to come from a family member for from a person in a position of responsibility. It’s the coach, the uncle, the step-father, the teacher. I’m by no means lumping the good with the bad any more than I want to be associated with molesters and pedophiles.

For the first time since I came out at trans, I’m actually worried about my personal safety. I get more unfriendly looks than before. Think about it.

A point to ponder

I’m a glutton for punishment. That’s really the only way to describe it. I read the negative stories regarding transgender people in the news. You know the ones, they liken us to sexual predators and pedophiles and any number of other reprehensible things. Recently I’ve seen an uptick in referring to us as having a mental illness. Now I totally disagree with that concept, but let’s just take a moment to look at their argument. According to the people that say we have a mental illness, we should seek treatment in order to facilitate a cure. They imply that mental health professionals can help us become the man or woman we were born to be.

Guess what, that’s exactly what the counselors and psychologists and psychiatrists we go to see are already doing. They are doing it without the stigma of mental illness, they help us come to terms with the hardest realization of our lives, and they give us a course of treatment that does make us be the man or woman we were our entire lives. It’s just that what they help us see and become is not what the people that see us as mentally ill want us to be. We become our true gender. You see, I didn’t chose to be a woman, none of us chose to be transgender, if there was a choice, it was to live. For a great majority of us the choice is between transitioning or death. I choose to live, as my true self. 

 

Hugs and Kisses…

Vicki

Anniversary...

One year ago on March 1st Vicki walked into the call center for the first time. I had been out in the world before for at least six months  prior, but March 1st was the watershed moment for me when I crossed that last hurdle. Coming out at work was super hard, my imagination was on overdrive. I knew that my world would com crashing down on me and I would lose my job, my friends, etc... None of that happened of course. If anything is was more of a whimper than a bang. I am now approaching my third shift realignment as Vicki, another new team, and another group of people that are meting me for the first time.

In case you haven't guessed, this is rather stressful, it's easy to show up every day for the same people, you know how they are going to react and behave. Every time I put myself in a new situation or meet new people my mind immediately starts expecting the worst. Now this doesn't come to pass, well at least not to this point. I spend a lot of time worrying about things that never happen. It takes a lot of energy too, energy that I could be using to better effect elsewhere. Writing, or knitting, or sewing, things that I enjoy doing.

So this time I'm not going to worry, which is easier said than done, I am going to focus on the positives, I'll be able to spend more time with my family. I will be able to be more physically active. I'll be able to spend my energy on improving my world. So for this anniversary I am giving myself the gift of a positive outlook and the knowledge of a bright future...

Hugs and Kisses,

Vicki

Little cuts

As a child I was taught that as humans we had a certain responsibility to be considerate of each other. I remember being taught that if you can't say anything nice to not say anything at all. The problem in today's world is that that is no longer stressed or has been pushed aside. This becomes all the more an issue if you're transgender because it's not just the intentional slights that we get to deal with but the the unintended ones and the ones we put on ourselves. One day I look in the mirror and I'm content with what I see, then another and I see every flaw. I watch something on TV that has a happy ending or positive situation for a trans character and I am happy and sad and jealous all at the same time.

I have learned to ignore the sideways looks and stare. The whispers behind hands. I expect these things, they are part of my every day life.

What get's to me is not the everyday stuff, it's the one-offs, The unintentional missgendering. It's happened at work with people that have known me only as Vicki, it happened at a restaurant the other night, that slip of the tongue that's like that paper cut. It's not going to kill me, but they build up, one on top of the other, they come from all sides, from friends, from family, from strangers, one after another, after another... There is a security guard at the building that I work at that every time I get close to the front door, he gets up from his desk and walks away. Not an overt act but hurtful none the less. As trans men and women we are judged by the ideals of the genders we present as, the perfect man or woman, we stop being humans and become our genitals, all you have to do is look at the anti-trans rhetoric out there, according to some I am a predator or a pedophile, a freak. Can you imagine going somewhere and having at least a few of the people there consider you a thing, less than human. I am not what they imagine me to be, I'm not saying this to get pity, It's just one more thing that I have to be prepared for. I know I don't match the feminine ideal, I have to say though that I see women every day that don't either. I don't judge them, I am just looking for the same consideration.

 I came to this late in life, I was 50 before I accepted myself and it took another three years to start doing something about it. This is not a trip we take alone, our families come with us as well either in support or in opposition, but the ride we're on is a group one. I have been lucky, I have the love and support of my amazing family, but all too many of us are cast aside. This is not something we choose, the choice we have is to be ourselves or die. I choose to be me, I am happy to be who I am. When one of my sisters saw the pictures I have posted of my true self on Facebook, she commented that I looked happier than she'd seen me be before... One kind word can make all he difference... I am happy...

Hugs and Kisses...

Vicki

A WOW moment

I had the most amazing experience the other day. A woman that I had known when we were both much younger sent me a message on Facebook. The message absolutely blew me away.

It left me speechless... And it has made my day, my week, even my year, and it will be something I will revisit when I start getting down on myself. It was positive message in a time when it seems that negativity rules in the world. One positive statement, one happy thing to hold on to, can make all the difference in the world. I'm lucky in that my friends and family are supportive, but there are too many others out there that aren't as lucky as I am. Think about it, one little statement is all it takes. If I think through my day, how many times each day, with my interactions with others, can I say or do something that will make their day a little more positive? How will that positive mindset towards others impact me? Will it make me more positive? It's a snowball and we may be just the beginning of it, that first flake (punny right?) that grows and grows rolling down the hill.

Be that flake... I intend to...

Hugs and Kisses

Vicki

Time to catch up

It's been six months that I've been full time. Is that right, six months? Time flies. Being out at work was my last hurdle and I crossed it on March 1st. There was quite a bit of trepidation  on that first day, by that time I had been working there for better than a year, so this was a major change. Other than a couple of asides or non-specific comments it's been a smooth transition. I work in a call center and the company I work for does a shift bid every six months, so I just started with my second realignment as Vicki. I did have some nerves the first day of this new shift and team, but it was wasted effort because it went well.

I also went to my sister's wedding, it was the first time any of my extended family had met me as Vicki. I was so scared... Also for naught... I have an amazing family, accepting and loving. The only time I felt uncomfortable was wearing a swimsuit, I know the visual is just to much. The discomfort was all mine. The wedding was an awesome affair, the bride stunning and the groom obviously in love... I wish them all the best.

Right now my biggest challenge is the glacial pace of change at this point in my transition. I keep thinking I'm running a sprint when in actuality I'm just in the beginning stages of a marathon. I'm just too impatient to be a marathon runner, I want it all now! I should know better, I'm not exactly a teenager, but damnit I've been waiting most of my life to finally be me that every minute spent getting there feels like time stolen from me. See, there I go being melodramatic.

I'm finally at a point in my life when I can say that I'm on the right path. I have to force myself to take my time and enjoy the journey, I need to stop and smell the flowers along the way, to relish what I'm growing into. Most of my generation will change careers at this stage in their lives, in my case I am changing too, but in a much more profound and fundamental way in that I'm becoming the me I should have always been. I did a bit of looking at my family tree, my aunt's first child was a girl, my uncle's first child was a girl, my father's first child from his second marriage was a girl, now I know enough about biology to understand how random the gender of a child is, but I can't help thinking that I should have been a girl too...

Hugs and Kisses,

Vicki