My Little Sprout

What is there to show for all the effort and energy expended at home?
-- Linda Weltner, No Place Like Home

Like the pea green nose cone of a trident missile, the first of my tulips has sprouted in my window box in my kitchen--almost right in the very center of the box.

Just last week, the weather was incredibly icy, forcing me to bring the plants inside. I had heard that it's important to let tulips and lillies get the first frost so the seedling can break through the bulb. And sure enough, at least one did.

The same thing occurred to me in my transition. It seems that when I had planted the seeds of growth in myself and first immersed myself in the new environment, that the harsh conditions I immediately encountered actually weakened my shell until I saw it clearly for what it was, its purpose outlived. If it had not been for the tender care of a counselor, friends and supportive church environment, I may not have survived in my weakened state, at least emotionally.

In order to grow and not suffocate, the shell did have to be compromised, but the love expressed afterwards to the now vulnerable me enabled me to survive and thrive and become the woman I am today.

I am going to tend that little seedling and watch for more of it's siblings to emerge. When the winter is over and Spring has sprung, when I return them to the outdoors, I hope to see the most beautiful blooms.

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie

A Bikini Wax Cell

"You are Brazilian. What kind of cell would you be part of? A bikini wax cell?"
-- Lorrie Moore, A Gate at the Stairs

When the direction finder on my phone said I had arrived at my location, I felt sure I must have put in the wrong address. I was obviously in a a residential district and there was no sign of the Sacred Light of Christ Church anywhere.

As I parked my car and looked at the map application, I noticed the address had appended Metropolitan Community Church to the name of the church, which meant that the address was a match on Google.

As I got out of my car, I asked a young man who had just parked in front of me, "Is there an MCC church around here somewhere?"

"It's that red brick building over there" he said pointing two houses behind me on the side on which I parked.

"Are you looking for the Chili Cookoff?" he asked me when I finished relaying my fears of being in the wrong place, walking around to my passenger door to take out the crock pot filled with Bean and Corn chili I had brought with me. I had spent two hours yesterday morning chopping the ingredients, frying the onions and filling the crock pot to let it simmer during the work day.

That afternoon after work, my neighbor Barb had walked with me to my apartment after I checked my mail, and we chatted while I washed dishes and changed into a nice green dress. After debating on several shoes, we decided on the patent leather high heels I bought in San Francisco three years ago--the same heels that were sinking into the soggy grass covered ground trying to remove the chili from the passenger side of my car.

Barb and I had talked about how I felt male when I was angry or frustrated. She blew me away when she said it was perfectly normal--that she, too, felt male under those circumstances. Today, when I was filling out the forms to transfer medical records from all my doctors, the receptionist also confirmed that those feelings are quite natural for women, and she is so incredibly feminine!

At the cook-off, I met Brandy, a transgender woman who is the church secretary, and many other, mostly young, mostly female-to-male, transgender people with whom I played Yahtzee, before we had a secret ballot on which of the four chilis we thought tasted the best. Mine tied for second, which actually means I didn't come in last. It was a tough vote, because all of the entries were delicious.

Before the night was over, Brandy invited me to attend service at her church, I was invited to a private wine-and-cheese this coming Tuesday and, immediately after being told I was cute, I was encouraged to come to all the TransAction meetings, which occur every Tuesday at 7 PM.

I'm looking forward to them.

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie

Good at Everything

And that's the point. Not even a Herald can be good at everything.
-- Mercedes Lackey, "A Herald's Journey"

I so want to be involved. There are so many organizations showing their colors here for Transgender Awareness Month in Utah. I know I can't be good at everything, but I do want to find what it is I can do to help people be more accepting and accepted of one another.

In less than two months, I have met and befriended the Interweave organizer for the local Unitarian church, the founder of Engendered Species, the leadership of TEA of Utah (the Transgender Education Advocacy), the facilitator for the Adult Transgender Group and an activist for TransAction. I guess you can say my fingers are now in the pie. The question still remains where will I ultimately find a fit.

Almost all of the organizations are providing education services for Transgender Awareness Month. Tomorrow, one of them (I believe TransAction) is hosting a Transgender Tuesday: Chili Cookoff tomorrow. I heard there were only two other people providing, so I dug into my crockpot cookbook and the first Chili recipe I came across is for Beans and Corn Chili, perfect for someone like myself who has to watch their red meat consumption. I'll be starting it first thing in the morning.

It will be another week and a half before I am able to have my iron levels forcibly reduced to normal levels again. I finally have an appointment with a hematologist. It took this long for the referral to go through; but it's Friday, November 12 just after lunch, so I'll have to beg off early from work.

While picking up my ingredients for the Chili, my last acrylic nail was killing me. It had been hanging in there for over two months and was tearing into the quick. As I stood there in line staring at the nail salon, I strongly debated giving up on growing my own nails back out and having acrylics put back on. After checking out, I walked up to the price board and couldn't make up my mind. A young lady sitting just outside on the bench asked me what was going on, took me inside the salon, and as a freebie, removed the painful acrylic nail and applied tip glue to stop the bleeding. She told me not to worry about the nails. I have to be honest: They look horrible. I can't keep a clean cut tip without it shredding right now. Almost every nail has jagged edges past where the nail trimmers can reach.

I also had to take advantage of a bra sale while at Walmart. The B-cup bra I was wearing was already causing pain from the constriction. I tried on a pair of 38-C soft bras and 38-B push-up bras and found the 38-C more comfortable. It was a good thing, too, because they're cheaper at 2 for 16 dollars. It's still hard for me to contemplate needing something that size. Kind of scary, really.

I was pleased to find one of my retirement rollover checks in my mailbox. It's little over half of what I'm going to need for my surgery and plane ticket; but it will be enough to go ahead and order my plane ticket to Thailand probably by the end of next week.

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie

No Finite Answers

I have always felt that chemical engineering was one of the best backgrounds for a business career, because both the classwork and the required thesis teach you one very important lesson: There are no finite answers to many questions.
-- Jack Welch, Jack

As I complete 6 months post transition, I realize that the last couple of weeks and the weeks to come hold memorable events. From wearing purple on October 20, an invitation-only prescreening of "She Was My Brother" on Wednesday, and engaging group therapy discussion yesterday to dressing out for Halloween today, getting my picture taken at a local studio in costume with a friend, a Halloween music festival at my church tomorrow and hosting trick-or-treaters Sunday evening.

My thesis for my Master's degree was more about trying to find emerging patterns in the presence of uncertainty. What I learned is that the patterns that are learned are not always true patterns, though they seem to hold true for a time. It is the things we have not experienced yet that hold the key to finding true patterns. We must always be ready to adjust our patterns when they no longer fit new information.

Looking at the photos I had taken today, and walking through my FaceBook photos to the earliest photos I kept of myself prior to starting hormone replacement therapy 2 1/2 years ago, and I am amazed. Laying the latest photo to a crossdressing photo from the Summer of 2007 looks like two completely different people. The neck muscles are greatly toned, the cheeks and dimples are more refined. My natural hair just feathers in and looks a whole lot better than my wig did.

I was filled with so much uncertainty, yet I was certain that I would never pass as a woman. The testosterone had belatedly shaped in ways that I could never recover from: large neck, shoulders and arms; a chin and nose line that didn't seem to be feminine in the slightest; a bushy unibrow and a persistent beard; and a bald spot forming on my crown.

Somehow, someway, I started drawing stares and comments today; but that's only because people admired my costume.

Wednesday night, I took advantage of theater night to slip into my purple dress, and apply evening makeup that I hadn't tried for months. It was an invitation-only event to certain members of the LGBT community to experience a drama based on two Victorian anthropologists experiences with a Lhamana (two-spirit person of the Zuni tribe in New Mexico).

Loosely based on these historical facts, the play was 90 minutes without intermission, and cast transgender people in a good light. After the performance, the Playwright answered questions from the audience. Miraculously, the real Me'wha, whom the character Lhamana was based on, eventually traveled to Washington, D.C., where she passed as a natal woman with everyone she met. The presisdent of the U.S, just remarked, "They sure do grow them tall out there." At 5 foot 10 to 11 inches, I have found a hero in Me'Wha.

At the support group meeting, I realized a couple of things. First, I can never forgive my father for trying to toughen me into a boy. I still love him, but he owns that sin not me. From what I knew about him before, and what I found out later about his own battles with trying to be a man, he should have tried to get to know me better, to understand me, instead of rough-housing, yelling and trying to get a testosterone rise out of me. When I did eventually respond, not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain of being forced to act in ways I felt uncomfortable left emotional scars. I harbor no ill will, even though he's been passed away for almost 12 years; but he owns that hurt, and not me. I also know that it's okay if I never forgive him. It's not always healthy to completely forgive and absolve someone of the pain that they have inflicted.

The second thing I took away from the support group meeting is that it is quite possible that my ex-wife will never forgive me for the betrayal that she feels that I am guilty of. It is her right to be unforgiving of me, as much as it is my right to be unforgiving of my father. I have no right to demand that she forgive me for my actions as she sees them, and, consequently, I shouldn't be compelled to try to force her forgiveness by making her see the "light." It's her right to withhold forgiveness, and I'm okay with that.

I had so much more I wanted to squeeze in here, but after a long chat with a friend in Texas, for whom I mistook deep friendship signals for romantic interest, I have decided that this is enough to ponder and digest.

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie

Tired of the BS

I filed for divorce June 24, 2010, after agreeing to a peaceful settlement and going step by step through the settlement agreement--twice.

After 60 days, after the 23rd of August, I notarized the agreement and mailed it to my spouse, who didn't like what we agreed on. Taking into account her demanded changes, I notarized the new copy and waited to mail it to her when I got to Salt Lake City. It's now a month after that, I have been sending child support and agreed upon expenses since August, and because my pay dates have changed to the 5th and 20th from the 1st and 15th, she accuses me of not sending enough, "pushing it out," and she hasn't signed the paperwork yet, because she wants "to get a lawyer to look it over."

I want to scream. I want to shout. I want to hit something. I just want to go to bed and forget about it. I definitely don't want to talk to her anymore.

A Sigh of Relief

Something was going on inside me, something I refused to look at until the weekend our older daughter, Laura, came home from college. When we went to visit her dad in the hospital, she got behind the wheel and I slipped into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief. 
-- Linda Weltner, No Place Like Home

There's something about that moment, when after a period of time in which what you feared would happen never did, that brings a sense of relief. We don't usually notice the anxiety until it's gone. In fact, the loss of old anxieties can in some ways prepare you to deal with new ones. There's that moment before we get wound up in the new set of stressors that we can just breathe, if only for a moment.

I felt in between, neither male nor female, before I started hormone replacement thereapy. While my anatomy seemed to indicate boy, I knew I wasn't really like the other anatomical boys running around. There propensity for pecking orders and dominance was something I could never understand.

I also knew I wasn't a girl, at least I couldn't see myself chattering about babies, clothes, makeup and playing house. But living as a boy, I was always curious what it would be like on the other side.

In a way, I was lucky. I did fairly well as a man, even though I found the whole concept of man as difficult to wear as a lead suit. I tried body building and just couldn't maintain interest for long in any kind of involvement in team sports. I closed up around guys, and made very few friends.

I did well. Even though I had a difficulty adjusting to my genital in my adolescent years and beyond, I lasted until my 40's, before I began to just not be able to function as male anymore. I knew I wasn't male. And my toying with the idea of being a woman finally began to emerge as a possibility.

Did I have any clue then that I would feel much more comfortable being a woman? No. Did I know the amount of discomfort and how dysfunctional my social skills were? Well, a little. But it didn't erase the fact that I felt  like I was a blank slate as far as gender identity was concerned. I didn't know if I was a man or a woman at 42 years old.

After some experimentation taking on a female persona, I found my social dysfunction starting to ebb. I began to worry less in the new persona, and as the anxiety of looking like a crazy fool were dispelled by the people who came to know me, their expectations of me as female fueled a new spiritual growth and I began to more fully identify and feel comfortable in a female persona. My inner woman had been starved, while my inner man had failed to thrive.

The conflicts this opened became intense, since I was married and had two young children. Fervent prayers and begging for signs seemed to always point in one direction. My male days were coming to an end. Of course, this was not good news to my wife, who saw my energies become more selfish and pushing me to keep going one step farther. The mental shift happened rather abruptly, as I finally accepted what I was and what I had to do, being accelerated by hormones and being in the presence of people who saw me as a woman. My mind settled in on the fact that, whatever it was before, it was now female.

So I am simply transgender, right? Actually, no. You see, this whole time, since I hit puberty, I couldn't ejaculate unless I let go of the male image I was forcing on myself until I allowed myself to feel a female image. The sex of my brain was hooked up to imaginary female parts. I thought that was not significant enough to spend the money on SRS (Sexual Reassignment Surgery) and as I became more comfortable, it became easier to transition socially and then finally at work. And I began to fall in love as a woman.

It became predominant in my mind that I can't love someone the way I am with male parts. I want to love them with female parts, no matter where they lie on the gender spectrum, and I realized that I have always felt that way.

But having now worked for two employers, both very accepting, I have lost one of my primary fears--that I would be unemployed. And through my church, I lost another--that I would be unaccepted. And finally, I lost the fear that I would be unloved, and now for the first time in my life, I feel comfortably alone and not lonely, though I will not reject love if it shadows my door.

So I can breathe a sigh of relief, even knowing there are some things that still need tending to. My iron count is high and my doctor is, hopefully, scheduling a phlebotomy. I need to see a financial manager to severely deplete my retirement savings to pay for the SRS and the plane ticket to get there in a few months. I am having severe premenstrual sysmptoms like clockwork every 28 days, including nausea, dizziness and lower abdominal cramps that keep me in bed all day, even though I shouldn't have a uterus to cramp. But I remember telling my wife before I started hormones that I seemed to have a monthly cycle, and called it a male period (I never asked another man if they suffered the same thing).

But yet, my total anxiety is low, even though I have old bills still to pay.

Home is the place where you feel comfortable being yourself. Perhaps, I have finally found home.

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie

TSA's Response

I received a response from the TSA today; however, they completely dodged my question about their proposed SecureFlight system supposed to roll out on November 1:

Thank you for your e-mail regarding the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) policy for screening transgender travelers.

TSA develops requirements and policies for the security of the Nation's transportation systems. The primary purpose of passenger screening is to prevent or deter the introduction of deadly or dangerous items into an airport secured area or onboard an aircraft. TSA policies and procedures focus on ensuring that all passengers are treated with respect and courtesy and every Federal screener receives training on professional conduct. In addition, TSA's Office of Civil Rights and Liberties ensures that TSA screens all traveling persons equally, without regard to a person's race, color, national origin, religion, age, disability, sexual orientation, or gender.


Passengers may be directed for additional screening if the information on their identification (ID) does not match their appearance; if the name on their boarding pass does not match a valid, Government-issued ID; if their clothing is loose fitting or large enough to hide prohibited items; or if the Transportation Security Officer (TSO) cannot reasonably determine that clothing is free of any detectable threats. Passenger may also be chosen for additional screening on a random basis.


Passengers may wear whatever clothing they choose when approaching the screening checkpoint, but enhanced security measures require that all passengers remove outer coats and jackets for x-ray before proceeding through metal detectors. Passengers that alarm the metal detector will be required to undergo additional screening. Passengers directed for additional screening may undergo hand-wand screening and/or pat-down inspections. Passengers may request the screening be performed in a private screening area at anytime. TSOs are instructed to honor a passenger's request.


If additional screening is merited, the transgender passenger will receive screening by a TSO of the same gender as what the passenger presents himself or herself to be. If a passenger chooses to have additional screening done in a private screening area, a traveling companion is permitted to accompany the passenger during the private screening. If the passenger refuses additional screening, they will be denied access to the secured area.


For more information on the screening process, we recommend that you visit our "For Travelers" section located on our website at www.tsa.gov. This information is updated periodically.


Thank you for contacting us.


TSA Contact Center