Write with the wrong hand

So you are transgender! Good, so am I!

Oh, you're not trans? Well, that's fine, because really, this if for you. 

You see, according to neurologists, our gender identities - our sense of self as a man, woman, or other gender identity - begins to form while we are still developing. We're still in our pregnant mother, yet the process of starting to figure out who we are has begun.

It's very similar to the idea of being left or right handed, and trying to write with the wrong hand. We have no control over whether we are born left handed, or right handed. Yet, schools used to try to force left-handed students to write with their right hand. Give it a try. It's pretty difficult. 

See what I mean?

It's pretty awkward. It's difficult to do. It feels wrong. So, so wrong. It can be just as difficult to try to read writing done with the wrong hand. That's exactly how I felt before I decided ti was time to do something about my gender dysphoria. Thousand of other trans people struggle with the same overwhelming feelings within themselves. 

Trans people aren't mentally ill. We're certainly not perverted, rebelling against God, or any of the other negative host of labels attached to us. We've just been trying to write with the wrong hand!

My Name Change Hearing

2019

I'm the brunette, transgender wife.

In early 2019, I had a court hearing for the purpose of changing my name.

I tend to try to plan things out in advance. I was trained to do that in the military, and the more stressful I expect the situation to be, the more carefully I plan. That's just how I am wired, I guess. So, I tend to plan as much in advance as I can. 

At Probate Court, in the hearing for my legal name change case, I was very nervous. A lot hinged on that case, and the result of it. I came in armed with talking points, what to say and especially what not to say. There's a lot of information online regarding how to speak in name change hearings for transgender people.

The Magistrate (in our county, there is a Probate Judge and several Magistrates. The Magistrates hear the lower, less important cases) started off by explaining the purpose of the hearing, established the identities of everyone in the room (it was a small hearing room), and then asked me why I wanted to change my name. 

The websites said to explain why it was important in a roundabout manner, to specifically not say I am transgender. So, heeding that advice, I began talking. After about 30 seconds, the Magistrate interrupted me. "Are you transgender?" he asked. Shocked, I responded "Yes, Sir". 

"Just say that next time", he responded. He then announced that he was approving the name change, and handed me the paperwork. Elated, my wife and I left the room. 

In the hallway, I was reading the paperwork, and suddenly noticed that the Magistrate had both signed and dated the paperwork about a month previous. He'd apparently only held the hearing because he was required to. 

Telling my Parents

2019

Well, there came the day when my wife and I discussed with my parents, who were at the time in their 70s, about me being transgender. We had resisted telling them to this point because we didn't honestly think it would end well. My mom is very religious acting, which is entirely different from being very religious. and we expected some issues.

Knowing that there would likely be problems, we held off saying something. For several years. Part of this was the lack of desire for confrontation. Part of this was the knowledge that they are older, there are some medical issues, and if things went south and they decided they didn't want t talk with us any more, there'd really not be someone to help them when they were even more infirm, and in need of help with the kinds of things elderly people often need help with. But, there were some factors arising that made it obvious that the time had come. Among those factors were the changes in my body, brought on by hormone therapy. 

Foremost, there were physical changes were progressing to the point that things were, shall we say, becoming much more noticeable. As my body changed, we began to marvel that they had not noticed. Eventually, those physical changes had progressed to the point that there was no way they weren't going to notice something. My hair had changed. My fingernails had grown and were well kept. I had breasts that were growing nicely. The overall shape of my butt had begun to change. My facial features had begun to soften.  These things alone meant it was time. The changes were just too noticeable. 

Adding to that, my wardrobe had changed. Gone was every single garment of men's clothing. Like my body changing, this didn't happen overnight, but was done in careful phases. This was partly due to the enormous cost involved, and partly due to not wanting to make a sudden, obvious change. 

Adding to that was that my name had been legally changed by this point. My pronouns had also changed. So, my wife was already used to calling me by my name, and calling me "she".  There would soon be times where she slipped in front of my parents. That would have been very obvious.

It was clearly time.

So, we sat them down, and told them. Overall, it seemed to go decently well. There was no unexpected drama. I don't mean she was accepting - far from it. There were a few things she was mad about. This isn't counting the firmly expected "But now you're a SINNER!!!" viewpoint. We knew that was going to show up. It did, o course. 

Our kids, both adults, were there too, when we told my parents. When my mom got upset, the kids were pretty awesome, in their attempts to get her to see how her reasoning didn't make sense. I explained a bit about what I had been experiencing. She didn't care about a word of any of it. 

First, she was very mad that I had changed my name. This I understand to a point. Honestly, though, it was an odd thing for them to be mad about. My older brother changed his name many years ago, and they were fully supportive of that, and even helped him do it. Thus, while I understand this complaint to a point, it doesn't really seem to hold water, in the overall scheme of things. Overall, mom was less mad about me changing my name than one of the other things. 

The second thing was that I have been wearing women's clothes. My wardrobe that day wasn't remotely "in-your-face". Jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, and canvas shoes. But, she bluntly told me that if I showed up "dressed like a girl" I wouldn't be allowed inside. That was kind of funny, considering I was inside at that time, and dressed in women's clothing from head to toe. 

The third thing, and this one really had her mad, was that she thought this meant she would have to pay money to redo their will because my name had changed. She was very upset about this. She actually got up and dug out their will and power of attorney, and demanded to know why I had made it, in her words, so that these documents were no longer valid. That isn't the case, of course. Legal documents are still valid after a name change. I explained to her that if in fact there were any legal fees incurred for them, my wife and I would of course pay for that. She seemed to calm down soon after. 

She was still clearly mad, though. she didn't have anything else to say, though. My dad hadn't said a word the entire time. 

So that was me coming out to my parents. Well, almost the whole story. 

As we were leaving, my Dad, always a nice guy but never one to display emotion, gave me a hug and told me he is proud of me. I almost burst out crying. 

Coming Out At Work - Telling the Employees

 Several years ago, my transition was progressing pretty well overall, and I had come to a point that I was living authentically in every aspect of my life except work. There, I has continued to maintain the previous status quo, because I really needed the job, both for the income, and because while transitioning, seeking new employment could have been very difficult, as I live in a pretty conservative area. But, the time came where I felt it was best to live authentically at work as well. At this point, my immediate supervisor, HR, and the extremely conservative owner already knew. 

My immediate supervisor, the HR person, and I decided the best approach would be a letter to the employees, because we had more than one location, and if I told the employees in person at one location, the employees at the other location would hear about it before I could get there. So, I wrote a letter, which I read at one location, while the manager at the other location read to the employees there. This is that letter. Perhaps, if you need to come out at work, this can help you, too.

I believe it is time that we sit down together and talk about something that is very important to me.

Have you ever had an experience where you were in the middle of doing something that seemed so out of place that you were extremely uncomfortable? Perhaps something you were doing, or how you were going about it, or the place you were doing it at, or maybe even something you couldn’t identify, but it felt wrong, somehow? Maybe even a combination of these? It might sound somewhat out there, but that’s my experience nearly every day, often multiple times per day. I know that might not make sense. I’m going to ask you to take my word for it.

You see, for many years, I have experienced something. Strange thoughts, unusual feelings, and the like. I won’t get into specifics. Suffice it to say for now that I experience things a bit differently than many of my peers. Frankly, I have for many years felt that something has been terribly wrong, but I didn’t know what, or understand the why and how.

So it’s time to be forthright. I haven’t set out to lie to you, and I’m not going to start now.

Bottom line up front: I’m transgender. Specifically, my gender identity isn’t really that of a guy, My sense of who and what I am doesn’t match what my body appearance says I am. It is something I tried to push away for years.  To be honest, that has been a combination of my own ignorance, and outright terror that if I were to for a moment admit to myself I might not be who I, and everyone else, thought I was, then it might actually be true, and that thought terrified me! So, I pushed it away, because if you ignore it, it goes away, right? Except that often doesn’t work.

I have maintained a public demeanor, without even realizing it. It wasn’t my intent to do so. I didn’t understand that I was doing so. But I reminded myself to act in certain ways, because everyone expects certain things of guys. Even to the point of when sitting, I reminded myself as I sat down to “sit like a guy”, or to walk like a guy, and the like. I chose clothing that made me uncomfortable, but guys wear what guys wear. I made sure I was as much a “guy” as I could be. Not a jock guy; (though apparently I’m a rather vicious soccer player) just a guy. So much so that I often do these things out of reflex, though they are uncomfortable for me. Especially in a military world, men have to be men, or something is wrong. I did what other guys did, because after all, I’m a guy, right? Events in my younger life taught me what it meant to be different. So, I reminded myself all the time, to make sure I was the guy I was born looking like. I still do it, sometimes, without thinking.

Over the years, the dichotomy has gotten more prevalent in my life, and thus more scary, and thus, more pushed away. That only made it more prevalent. So I pushed away harder. So it got more prevalent. Etc.  I have wanted this to go away, and anguished when it didn’t. I remember the day I first thought “Does this mean I never get another Father’s Day?” and the idea was heartbreaking. It’s not a mindset. I didn’t decide this. It’s not a habit. It’s me. I just want to be normal. Typical. But I have come to realize that I am who I am, and I want to be the best me I can. 

I understand that this might be a little surprising, and it might be a massive shock. Maybe you’ll be disgusted. Maybe you’re thinking “Okay, so what?” Maybe you’ll be thinking, “That makes perfect sense!”  Once we hit the realization of what was really happening, my wife, looking back, said “Well, that explains a lot”.

I think it’s important to reassure you of a few things. I want you to know that I still hate vegetables. I still have big ears and a big nose. I still have sarcasm, and a sense of humor. Swedish Fish still are amazing. I still don’t like our dog’s nose slime. I am still a Green Bay Packers fan, even though their season has been awful. I still care about my coworkers.

As I have moved forward in life, my wife and I decided that it was time to live authentically. Having to hide part of yourself is mentally and physically taxing. Living authentically has brought some changes, which a few sharp eyed people among us noticed right away as these changes phased in.

What changes directly affect our company? Well, to be honest, only a few small things. These are:

This last week I filed a request to change my name, legally. Though that request will take weeks to work its way through the legal system, the name change here at work will actually take place today, and thus, (dead name) doesn’t work here, but “Addison” does.

The other change that directly affects the company is the pronouns that I use, which I have been using in all other aspects of my life outside this business. Those pronouns are she/her/hers.

I know that doing something you’re not used to is difficult, and I know that because we’re all human, you’ll slip up. That’s okay. I tend to talk about myself in third person, and I slip up too.

Most people will likely see little to no change. They’ll not think anything about it Though only just begun, my hair is slowly starting to get different. Opinions I express are much different (Ignorance really can be educated out of someone, it seems) than they used to be, though in fairness, my opinions have been changing for many years as I came to understand that some things that conservative Christianity teaches are just plain WRONG. Yes, I really said that.  My fingernails are a bit different. My clothing is a bit different, and will become more so, but with restraint. Nothing is over the top, nothing is “in-your-face”. It is not my desire at this time to be glaringly obvious, but I’m much more comfortable in my own skin than I have ever been.

If it is your desire to learn more, I am willing to try to answer questions, and I can help you find resources, should you wish to seek help or information. Regardless, I know you will probably need time to digest this, and that’s okay too. Some of you are very religious, and have strong beliefs in this area. I respect that. I’m not asking you to go against what you believe.

I’m just asking you to continue to treat me with decency.

10 Additional Great Things People Have Said to Me Recently

2023

Here are 10 more great things people have said to me recently. Words can hurt people, or lift them up. Always try to speak life!

1. "That top looks really good on you. That's a great color for your skin!"  - coworker

2.  "Your drink is free today, dear. Have an awesome day!" - Female clerk at a gas station.

3. "Damn girl, you got legs!" - random hunky black man in downtown Dayton, Ohio. I was wearing shorts.

4. "I appreciate you" - Pastor from church.

5. "Don't go into the women's room here. Use the one in the lobby. This one really needs cleaned."  - female coworker, exiting the restroom and seeing me approaching in the hall. Acceptance is wonderful. 

6. "Good job." - My boss at work

7. "Ladies first." Male coworker, gesturing for me to pass through first. Again, acceptance is wonderful.

8. "This is the safety lady." - security guard at work, introducing me to a new guard. Again, acceptance.

9. "You're doing a great job. Your voice is really coming along!" - Voice therapist who is helping me raise my natural baritone pitched voice.

10. "That dress looks great on you!" - comment from a woman at church

A Great Church

 2022

So many transgender people, and on a broader level, LGBTQIA+ people in general, have a religious background, and not being able to attend church, feel a part of them is missing. It tends to drive us to keep checking out churches, which often leads to more church hurt. 

There are good churches out there. Churches that love people for who they are, churches that believe that everyone has worth, churches that believe that God created LGBTQIA+ people to be exactly who they are. 

I have been blessed to find such a church. It feels good. It feels right. I get to worship every week with people that love God, and love people. This isn't the only church like this. There are more of them every month. If I could find one, so can you. 

Don't give up! You matter! Don't give up hope. Keep seeking. 

Allison

 1988

 

Allison was an extremely good looking girl, and the sister of a friend in the Army. We were stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and he was from Nashville, TN. His home was about an hour and a half away. One weekend, we were at his house, and two of his three sisters were there. Everyone was drunk. Not just a little drunk, but quite drunk.

Allison, though only 16, was no exception. She spent the bulk of the evening flirting with several guys, and flirting with me as well. She was barefoot, wearing short shorts and a bikini top, and she was hammered. The crowd decided to go buy some marijuana, and I wasn’t wanting to do that. I have never resorted to drugs, and didn’t want to start.

All of the guys left, and the one sister, leaving me alone and a little drunk, in the house with a very drunk Allison. She fell asleep curled up in my lap as we watched TV, and she woke up kissing me, and slid up to straddle my lap. Breathing fast, she asked me if I wanted to go upstairs or do it right there.

She was beautiful, but she wasn’t a girl I was interested in, plus I knew she was extremely drunk. I asked if we could stop in the kitchen to get some water, and she led the way. While we were there, she started feeling sick, because of the massive amount of alcohol she has consumed.

She ran for the bathroom, and I followed. She cried out “Go away” and then was bent over the toilet. For the first time in my life, I found myself holding a girl’s hair while she vomited into a toilet. Finally, she was done, tears streaming down her face. I got her a wet washcloth, and she cleaned up, then snuggled with me on the couch.

Two more times, we went to the bathroom, with me holding her hair. Otherwise, I just held her, and tried to help her not feel so bad. When everyone else returned, there were lots of comments and innuendo from them, mostly comments about what intimate things we had done while they were gone. All I would tell them was that they wouldn’t believe me if I told them.

A few weeks later, I was at his house again, and his sister gave me a hug and told me she appreciated me for what I did. I could have had sex with her, and she might not have even remembered. It was even expected, even by her brother. But that’s not what I did. I'm glad. 

Meeting With the Pastor

2020

Meeting With the Pastor

My wife and I went to sit down and talk with the Pastor of the church we had been attending. We asked for the meeting because we had been noticing some odd things that didn't seem to fit with the church's public persona.

As in many churches, this church was always saying they needed people to do things in the church. It was announced every Sunday from the stage and was on slides shown before and after the service as well. One area they needed help in was with what they called guest services, which to them meant hospitality positions; greeters, people who show new people around, etc. My wife and I had volunteered to be greeters several times, and there had been no response at all, despite them being very much in need of guest services people. That seemed odd.

We had been asked a few times in the past to help serve communion, but that suddenly stopped. That seemed odd.

Though seating in the service was relatively limited, when additional people came, and chairs had to be pulled out of classrooms, no one sat in the row we sat in. That seemed odd. They weren't subtle; rather, they were obvious.

We attended a church work day, part of the point of which was to work with other people and get to know others. My wife and me were the only couple not assigned with others. That seemed odd.

The church had a creed they recited each week. The first half went like this:

       "(Name of church) is a safe place, a refuge for those who feel lost or forgotten. Though we're not perfect, our promise is to protect you and provide a place where your name and gifts are known. We will stand beside you, not over you. Together we will..."

This creed led us to hope that what we thought we were seeing in the church, the odd occurrences, was inaccurate. So we decided to ask to meet with the Pastor and talk about it.

So, at the appointed time, we came to his office to talk. We had hopes that the conversation would go well, and to be honest, at first, it did. The pastor asked us to tell him what we had been experiencing over the last few years as a transgender person, and as the wife of a transgender person. He listened, and then it was his turn to respond.

First, he small talked for a few minutes, and asked minor clarification questions. So far, so good. Then, he told us he had little experience with having someone LGBT+ in the church. He said he had no idea how to proceed, including handling questions from other church members.

He disclosed that he had received numerous complaints from church members because of my presence. Among other things, people were offended that I had been asked to serve communion. Additionally, some people thought I shouldn't be allowed to participate in communion at all.

He then said he could honestly understand why people might be uncomfortable sitting near me in church. It was at this point that I realized I could no longer attend there.

The end result of the meeting was that we were not going to be permitted to participate in doing anything within the church. It's okay if we attend, but we won't be permitted to serve communion anymore, or to be greeters, or do other things in the church. Not because of any lack of faith or knowledge or experience, or because of any failure on our part. Just because of who I am.

I'm not going to lie. That made me sad and angry. A safe place? Really? A refuge? Seriously? You will stand beside me? Apparently not. In addition to being sad and angry, I felt rejected. Unwanted. Soiled. Have you ever felt like that? It's a feeling of rock bottom despair.

It was an easy decision. We ended the meeting, walked out, and never went back.

Note: When getting ready to post this, I checked the church website to make sure I got the wording of the creed right. There, I discovered that earlier this year, the church had shut its doors.