Utah Pride, 2010

"Won't explain, or say I'm sorry.
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar.

Give a cheer, for all the broken,
Listen here, because it's only..."
 -- My Chemical Romance, Welcome to the Black Parade

This last weekend was the Utah Pride Festival.

This was only my second year attending Pride. Last year, I watched the parade and wandered the festival with friends; this year I was much more active and involved.

On Saturday, Erin and I attended Utah's first ever Transgender March, which was awesome. Apparently we had around 100 people, which is much more than most of the people I talked to had predicted. Hopefully they'll do it again next year, as I'm sure it will only grow from here. They held the Dyke rally and Trans rally at the same time, which made me sad, but I have to go first and foremost with the T. The great part about the way it was done is that the two marches were able to join forces at a mid-point, along with the Interfaith Pride March, and then head down State Street in droves. George also met up with us at the mid-point, and was even sweet enough to hold a sign that said "Trans Fabulous" high and proud for me.

I wish I'd planned a little better, but by the time the marches ended, I only had about half an hour until my shift in the eBay booth, and I was 9 city blocks away from my car, which had the eBay shirt I needed to wear in it. I took off towards my car while George and Erin headed for Trax to get home. I only ended up being about 10 minutes late, but the heat and the huge hill our capitol building is on just about killed me.

I'm very much a nighttime person, and I've never done well with the heat. Add to this that hormones have killed my internal temperature regulation, and that I haven't had my hair this long in years, and it isn't hard to conclude that I probably shouldn't even leave the house on a hot summer day.

On Sunday, Erin and I marched with the eBay folks in the Pride Parade, which was a hoot. We blasted Weird Al's "eBay", and handed out eBay temporary tattoos to everyone and anyone.

Erin and I, waiting for the Parade to start.

The eBay parade crew.

The back of the "I AM" shirts say "eBay", but the front seems to imply other meanings on its own. ;) 

Handing out free stuff to the crowd.

Fortunately, I gave myself plenty of time before my booth shift this time, so after we were done with the parade, Wifey and I wandered over to Beans and Brews and zoned out on their comfy air-conditioned chairs while sipping iced mocha and iced chai for about an hour.

Next, we decided to wander the festival. The festival is great fun, and it's so nice to be in a place with so many people who don't care who you're holding hands with, but it's also pretty commercialized. Half the booths are selling jewelry or shirts or potpourri or who knows what, and most of the others are promoting a cause. We ended up skimming past most of the booths, and only lingered at a few of the more interesting ones, such as the "Gender Zone", where they had a great timeline of the history of gender variance.

This time, the Erinkins decided to just hang out with me while I helped out at the booth. We had silent auctions, with the proceeds going to charity, and for the most part I just helped people who wanted to bid and kept an eye on the goods, which at least kept me out of the sun. Unfortunately, I think it also kept me out of the occasional breeze. Even though my shift was only a couple of hours, by the end of it, I was zapped.

George met up with us again, and we went out to dinner, where I got to feel sweaty, gross, and stupid at a nice Japanese restaurant.

I'm very grateful to my love for tagging along and supporting me. Overall, I had a lot of fun, met some great people, and had a lot of good experiences where people were surprised to find out that I'm not a genetic female, but I ended up very emotionally and physically drained. Next year, I will definitely pick my battles more carefully, and try to hit up more shows, parties, celebrations, and other things I can passively enjoy. ;)

Voice Classes

"Cause sometimes,
I said sometimes, I hear my voice

And it's been here,

Silent all these years."

 -- Tori Amos, Silent All These Years

Egads! Has it really been a month since I've posted? And did I really just type "Egads!"? Bleh. I guess I should talk about the voice classes I recently finished while it's still semi-fresh in my mind, as much as it annoys me.

When I was still early in transition, voice classes were one of the things "on the list" that I definitely wanted to do, since hormones don't change the voice for male-to-female transpeople. Back then, I researched it the way I research everything: with the interwebs, but I couldn't find any. I know there are at least a few local speech/voice therapist/coaches, but I don't know if any of them work specifically with trans people. At the time, I was still afraid to tell even complete strangers that I was trans, which stopped me from ever calling and asking.

After a while, I put off the idea in favor of other things, and just practiced here and there on my own. I also did a lot of research; I read and watched how-tos, I learned about speech-patterns, pitch, resonance, vocal chords, and so on. I have a lot of the technical knowledge, but even with all that, it can be difficult to put it to use without someone to tell me if I'm doing it correctly.

A few months ago, I got an email on the Pride Center mailing list which said that a licensed speech therapist would be doing voice classes specifically for MtF trans people in March/April/May. I excitedly emailed the teacher to find out more about it, and she quickly replied to tell me that the class was $70 per person, and that we would work on expanding vocal range, flexibility, expression, pitch, resonance, intonation, "feminine" language choices, non-verbal communication, etc., via modified Fitzmaurice voicework, which is apparently something originally designed for actors. It sounded perfect, so I mailed a check.

A few days later, she emailed me to let me know that she received the check, when and where the first class was, and to bring workout clothes, a yoga mat, and water. Wait, what? Eh, apparently she incorporates yoga techniques... I wish I'd been informed of that earlier, but oh well, I decided to go anyway.

The class was only eight people, and I already knew a couple of them from elsewhere, which was nice. The first class ended up being mostly strange yoga-type positions, trying to find a "tremor", which was supposed to "shake up the voice". It was odd, but I figured that it was groundwork, and that I couldn't really judge its effectiveness until after the rest of the technique was revealed.

A few weeks/classes later, and we were still doing the same thing. What's worse, she never definitively tied these exercises in with the voice. Sometimes she would go back to vaguely explaining something about loosening up the voice, or show us a picture of the various tendons in the human body that run between the feet and the throat, still without giving us a definitive tie-in.

Eventually we moved in to learning about the muscles that control breathing, and how to be aware of them, which at least felt a little more relevant. It wasn't until around class 5 that we started learning some exercises for expanding vocal range, and experimenting with tone and such, yet we were still spending around 2/3 of each class doing stretches. By the end of class 6, I wasn't sure if I wanted to come back, though I kept reasoning that perhaps I'd learn something big in the last couple of classes that would make it all worthwhile. From class 7 on, we finally stopped doing any of the yoga stuff, and it suddenly felt like she was struggling to catch up.

To make things worse, there were supposed to be 10 classes, but she wasn't sure if we would have the venue for the final class or not. We were supposed to find out at class 9, but I forgot to go that day, and realized afterward that I didn't feel badly about it, so I didn't bother finding out about the last week.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh... I'm only semi-pissed about the money, as it's a lesson learned, but I feel like it was the time I spent there that was the big loss. Oh well, some would say I have too much time on my hands already. ;) I hope the other people in the class felt better than I did about it. A few people had to rearrange their schedules and even bus to get there each week.

I think I've gotten my voice to a fairly androgynous place through my own practice. My current voice is usually enough to be passable in person, but my main concern is on the phone and online video games, where my voice has to represent me without the visual reinforcing. In games is the only place that I don't tell everyone about my past, mostly because I don't feel like constantly explaining, and because people online can be extremely cruel.

A friend recently asked if I'm afraid that I'll sound fake. I do worry about that (to be fair I worry about everything), but I know that practice will help make it sound less fake, and people can just deal with it in the mean time. I do get a lot of compliments on my voice, so I must be doing something right. Erin also says that it "freaks her out" when I accidentally switch to my old boy voice. I guess it's just going to take time. At least now that I'm fully socially transitioned, I practice every day, whether I like it or not. ;)

The Biggest Decision I've Ever Made

"This is life,
What a f***ed up thing we do,

What a nightmare come true,

Or a playground if we choose,

And I choose."

 -- Offspring, I Choose

Transition has been one set of objectives after another... hair removal, various stages of coming out, therapy, hormones, bathroom issues, work. My life has turned in to a strange series of stepping stones, which I think the rest of the world calls "goals". I have no clue how "normal people" go about their lives like this; I have no idea how I've done it for the past year, but it has definitely improved things for me.

With the bulk of work transition successfully behind me, the next life steps I'm looking toward are marriage, and a legal name change, but I keep asking myself, "What's after that?"

I guess I don't know why there has to be a next step, but it feels like there should be, and I never really planned this far out. Suddenly the road forks in big ways, and I don't know which forks to take.

I hate decisions, especially big permanent decisions. When I was a kid, I came up with all sorts of rationalizations for why my decisions were not important, just to make it through the day without anxiety attacks. Some day I'll write several posts just about all the life "rules" that I came up with during my teenage years, and still use, but for now I'll spare you by sticking to the ones about decisions:

• If I can't decide between two or more options with a reasonable amount of information and time, then all options must be nearly equal, and I may as well just pick one.
• If time and space are infinite, then my decisions are infinitely unimportant.
• If a decision can be undone, and doesn't cause permanent harm, it's ok to try it just to try it.

Unfortunately, the decisions I need to make now are bigger than anything I've dealt with before. Especially with regards to "the" surgery. Rule C above doesn't apply, since it can't be undone. B isn't much comfort now that I'm emotionally invested in my own future (I know, what a weird concept, but it is surprisingly new to me). And A, well, it somehow doesn't seem appropriate to flip a coin or Rock-Paper-Scissors for this one.

Don't get me wrong; if Sexual Reassignment Surgery (SRS) were cheap, with safe and predictable results, I would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, surgery is expensive (around $15,000-$20,000), and comes with many risks and possible complications. For a young and relatively healthy person such as myself, the risks are lessened, but extremely scary nonetheless. This is a major surgery, after all.

There's also the timing issue. Due to the Standards of Care, I can't have SRS until I've been living "in role" for at least a year. Shouldn't this make the decision less urgent? It would, except that $20,000 is not pocket change, and I've failed to save more than a few thousand in the last year. If I want to do this, I'm going to need to start saving aggressively, and even selling a lot of the nostalgic junk I've held on to over the years.

It would be nice if insurance covered any of the cost. The American Medical Association's House of Delegates passed several resolutions in 2008 asserting, among other things, that Gender Identity Disorder is a serious medical condition, that treatment is not "cosmetic" or "experimental" but is medically necessary, and that denying coverage is discriminatory. Most insurers however, go right on with their blanket policy exclusions, or statements that GID is a "pre-existing condition". Of course, I know that's not why most insurance companies don't cover GID. They don't cover it because they don't have to, even though its low prevalence means that paying these costs would likely be much less impacting to their bottom line than most seem to think.

Most reassignment surgeons are also booked anywhere from six months to a year out at any given time, which means I need to know whether or not I'll have all the money quite a while in advance of when I actually have the surgery.

I want the surgery. I know that it would make me feel a lot better about myself, despite the fact that it may only ever matter to me and one other person. In the end, I have to acknowledge that my fears are the biggest thing stopping me, and flying in the face of those fears has gotten me too far to stop now.

I decided a couple of weeks ago that I will definitely be getting the surgery, it's just a matter of when and how. As much as I hate to, I will probably eventually have to ask for some help. For now though, I'm going to see how far I can get on my own.

Work Transition: My Birthday Present to Me

"So if you think it's scary, if it's more than you can take,
Just blow out the candles, and have a piece of cake!
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday to you!"
 -- Weird Al Yankovic, Happy Birthday

Disclaimer: 
All opinions posted here are my own, and not necessarily representative of the company I work for

On Monday I transitioned at work. A few people have asked me what that means, and each time, I suddenly remember that this isn't all self-explanatory. Outside of work, I've been dressing how I like and going by my new name and female pronouns for a few months now. At work, however, none of these changes had happened yet.

I came out to all my coworkers in November, but so far, I had decided that I wasn't quite comfortable enough with the new me to make the transition leap at work. I continued wearing a sports bra, baggy t-shirts, androgynous earrings, no makeup, and talking in my old voice. About a month ago I decided I was finally ready, and that pretending to be male was getting a little bit too awkward.

I informed my supervisor and started meeting with HR and management to plan it all. We created different communication plans for my local teammates (one meeting a few days beforehand to prepare them), the local center (a top-down communication to all leadership, so they can be prepared if any rumors or concerns surface), and the various other teams and people I work with globally (basic communication from their leadership). We planned for a new name tag, badge, preferred name in the system, etc. When it came to the bathroom issue, I told them that I was worried about it because I know it can be a very sensitive issue for a lot of people, but they reassured me that it was no problem and that I would probably just use the women's.

A couple of weeks before transition, the HR rep met with me and told me she would be meeting with legal the next day to review the plan. She wanted to get a clear idea of my thoughts on the bathroom issue so she could represent them properly while discussing it with the powers that be, so she asked, "What if, for some legal reason, they say you have to use the men's room?"

Anxiety set in. After a pause I choked out, "I guess... I wouldn't transition at work."

"Then how would you continue your whole process?"
The tears started, "I guess... I would have to leave the company."
"Wouldn't you have to face this kind of thing at any company you work for?"
"...Yep."

We talked some more and she reassured me that she just wanted to clarify my feelings-- that nothing had actually been decided yet. I tried desperately to calm myself down. I felt pretty stupid, but she was really sweet about it, and asked me to come talk to her first thing the next day since she was meeting with them earlier in the morning.

Thankfully, the next day, she told me that the meeting had gone well and that I would be using the women's restroom. They decided that there would be more questions/complaints/awkwardness if I were using the men's room, than if I were using the women's. Yeah, I could've told you that. =P

Day 1 (Monday)
On Monday, April 5th, I went in to the office as myself for the first time. I met up with the HR rep, who sat me in a meeting room to give me time to breathe and make sure I was ok. I think I was shaking. When I was ready, we went to the security office and got a new badge printed out, complete with new name and picture.

When I got to my desk everyone was very natural and easygoing about it, which helped a lot. One of my awesome female coworkers gave me a necklace, because "Every woman needs a black necklace that can go with anything."  So. Sweet. =3

There were a few slip-ups with the name, but I never got a chance to correct anyone before they did it themselves. I was still terrified of the bathrooms and avoided going for most of the day. At around 5 hours into my shift, I finally decided that it wasn't worth a bladder infection and convinced myself that I'd have to get over my fear eventually. I decided to use the upstairs bathrooms, to hopefully avoid seeing anyone I know. I actually didn't end up seeing anyone at all. On the way out I decided that I looked pretty good, and that I should've gone a long time ago just to see myself and boost my confidence.

Day 2 (Tuesday)
On Tuesday, the internal systems finally updated with my "preferred name" and new picture, so that people can look me up or email me using Vivi. Partway into the day my boss's boss called a random meeting and brought in Birthday cake for me and my supe, whose birthday was on the 4th.

"Happy Birthday Michelle and D  Vivi"

LOL

I was worried about my voice for most of the day, so I kept talking really quietly, and trying not to cough. The bathrooms got easier to use, especially since there was never anyone else in the ones upstairs.

Day 3 (Wednesday)
We had a team meeting early Wednesday morning, which I decided to call in to from the comfort of my pajamas. The whole meeting, I kept thinking about how much I hate my voice, and how the more afraid I am, the worse it sounds. On the drive in to work, I used my phone to repeatedly record and playback my voice, to reassure myself that I don't sound that stupid. Shortly after getting in, a co-worker randomly told me that my voice sounded good, and that he didn't recognize me on the call at first, which made me feel a lot better.

A few of the women on my team sometimes take breaks together to go on walks or over to the gym, and they invited me. A social activity and forcing myself to work out? Sweet!

I used the bathroom a couple of times without too much anxiety, but I know I'll tense up the moment I finally see someone. Everything else is already starting to settle back into normalcy. My boss's boss commented on how it was as if everything had changed, and yet nothing was different. I couldn't agree more.

In other news, today is my birthday! After 28 years, I'm finally free to be myself. Oh well, better late than never I suppose. =)

Telling Erin's Family

"Breathe, keep breathing,
Don't lose, your nerve.

Breathe, keep breathing,

I can't do this, alone."

 -- Radiohead, Exit Music (For a Film)

*sigh*

I've been meaning to write for quite a while, as usual. For the same reasons that I really want to write, it's also been hard to find the time.

Between coming out to Erin's dad two weeks ago, planning our wedding, voice classes, planning work transition, and hanging out with old and new friends and family more in the past three months than in the whole previous year, sometimes I'm surprised I find time to breathe. It's good, but it's scary; I'm not used to my life being like this, and I always feel like I'm forgetting something really obvious.

I like to be aware of things. As long as I'm aware of everything, especially my own faults, then I can correct them or decide not to feel stupid about them ahead of time. The current pressure makes me worry that I'm losing awareness of details, like I could have something horrible on my face all day, and not notice. *sigh* C'est la vie.

Where was I? Oh yeah-- Erin's dad and stepmom took the news really well! Erin really loves her dad, so I think keeping this secret has been hard on her. That she loves him is also exactly why we were afraid to tell him. I was so scared that he was going to take it badly, and that I would blame myself.

We went to visit them with the intent to get it over with. When we got there, we skirted around it for a while, trying to find the right situation, which never comes. Suddenly, they started searching around the internets, and saying they wanted to see our FaceySpace profiles.

Me: *sinking feeling, tugging on Erin's arm* "Say something!"
Erin: "So... we came here to tell you something... [my old name] is transgender."
Dad-in-Law: "Ok, so? Why does that matter?"
Me: "It doesn't really matter, but it was still important that we tell you."
Dad-in-Law: "That makes sense... Listen, I may not agree with it, but as long as Erin's ok with it, it's fine."

The "I may not agree with it" caveat is always weird, but that's for another time. With the way they were going after our FB profiles, I'm pretty sure they knew ahead of time. I find that parents are often more clever than their children give them credit for.

They asked a few questions about it, which is always a good sign of acceptance. With the air cleared, we decided to stay and play a few rounds of Rummikub. Erin slipped back into calling me "she," and by mid-game, her dad picked up on it and started using female pronouns as well. At one point, Erin left the table to use the restroom, and he told me "You know, you can call me Dad." =3

I'm surprised I didn't write about it before, but the rest of Erin's family has been similarly accepting. Her brother was one of the first people we told, and he was actually excited for me. We told her sister last summer, and her mom, stepdad, and other brother in December. The last three even took us out to dinner to celebrate our engagement.

I thought people were supposed to hate their in-laws? If this is a dream, please, don't pinch me.

On Toys and Stereotypes

"When I grow up,
I'll be stable.
When I grow up,
I'll turn the tables."
 -- Garbage, When I Grow Up

The video in the previous post got me thinking about my own childhood.

Listening to other trans women's stories, there are a lot of themes that come up time and time again. One of those is that many knew from a very young age that they were female. That they always wanted to play with dolls. That they hated their genitalia. That they just... knew.

To some extent, I envy those people, because I had no idea.

Some of my earliest memories are of toys, but not dolls. Oh sure, we had a Teddy Ruxpin. I had a stuffed rabbit pillow that I took everywhere for a while. My sisters had gobs of stuffed animals, My Little Ponies, and Cabbage Patch dolls, which were certainly interesting, but I was drawn to something else completely.

I liked Domino Rally, Legos, K'Nex, and Lincoln Logs. I liked to make things, I liked to invent. I liked Intellivisions and computers and Game Boys. I taught myself to program text adventures in qbasic when I was 9, a dot matrix printer is one of my favorite sounds, and I still ask for Lego sets for Christmas and Birthdays.

It took me a long time to realize and accept it, but these things do not mean that I must be male. Sure, for many women-- trans or not-- playing with dolls was an expression of their girlhood, but many other women played with Legos. And they are still women.

I've always had gender issues swirling around in my brain, but as a little kid, I don't think I fully grasped the meanings and consequences of gender, let alone how it would affect me in the years ahead. As I started to realize the implications of the box I'd been placed in, my gut reaction was to prove to myself, and to others, that the boxes didn't exist.

I've spent so much time and energy throughout my life trying to break down stereotypes, trying to show people that gender is not what they think it is, that I couldn't see the forest for the trees. The truth is that nobody fits into the boxes of "male," "female," or "in-between," but that doesn't stop the average person from staking a claim wherever they damn well please. It wasn't until I finally admitted to myself that the boxes do exist, and that I had a right to stake my own claim wherever I wanted, that I saw where I fit in, and where I would be happiest.

Maybe if I had wanted to play with dolls, or wear dresses when I was little, I would've figured it out earlier. In the end though, I think I'm glad that I didn't. I certainly wish I had the opportunity to undo my first puberty, but I know that I would not have been ready to handle this any time before now, and I don't think I would love and appreciate being a woman nearly as much as I do today.

So now I'm curious; what were your favorite toys when you were little?

Transgender Children on the Dr Oz Show

The Dr. Oz Show recently aired this segment about trans kids. Thanks for the link, Mel!


(If you're interested, Part 2 is here.)

I'd never heard of Dr. Oz before this, but the show was surprisingly respectful and well done. I usually watch these programs and wince, for fear that the host will make the trans folks look like a sideshow.

What do you think? Is it okay to delay puberty until the child can make a more educated decision? At what age is a child old enough to start irreversible surgeries?