Daniela - the Smile

As I transitioned and told people that I was transgender, the one thing that amazed me was that telling people never seemed to get easier. No matter how many times I came out, it was always hard.

Yet while it never got easier, sometimes it got harder. One the most difficult times came when I had to tell the people I worked with. Unlike most of my coming out, these were done in person, not online. It was so hard to tell my boss, that I didn't - instead I wrote a two page letter, handed it to her, and watched while she read it.

That turned out to be the easy one. When it came time to transition, I had to tell people in person two more times - my colleagues on the company's leadership team and the team of developers that I lead. I suppose I could have told everyone in writing, but it was important to me that the people I worked closely with hear it from me in person, face to face. If I couldn't tell them in person, how would I be able to work with them? (If necessary, I would have told the entire company, but my boss and the HR people convinced me that was above and beyond the call of duty.)

Telling the leadership team was hard - it was a special early meeting, scheduled suddenly, and with at least a little mystery, complete with our Trans 101 trainer in attendance. I began, and it was one of those times where you just have to keep going, because if you let yourself stop, even for a second, you know you won't be able to start again, and you'll be lost. As I finished I felt the familiar emptiness inside as I wondered if they would accept me and my news. As I later found out, one response was thinking, "oh,  is that all? I thought you were leaving the company!"

But telling my team was the hardest. I was leading a team of a half dozen developers and system administrators, the people in the company I was closest to. It was the end of the day as we sat down for what they had been told was "Diversity and Inclusion Training." I explained that the subject of the diversity and inclusion was me. I went on to tell them that I was a transgender woman, how I had fought it for years, and how by transitioning I was choosing life. I made it clear that our professional relationship would continue as before, other than changing pronouns.

As I spoke I kept scanning the faces around the room. The faces were solemn, some occasionally encouraging. Except for one.

One of my listeners started to smile very early on, and that smile grew as I spoke, until by the time I finished, she was positively beaming. As I left the room for the trainer to take over, and made my way home, I didn't quite know what to make of that huge grin.

Later that evening I found out. The owner of that huge grin was Daniela, who was one of the first people we'd hired into the department. She was Bulgarian, and she used to joke with me about people from the Balkans being headstrong. When I'd left the room I honestly wasn't completely sure whether she was smiling for me or laughing at me, but her email that night was clear.

The subject was "Congratulations" and in it she said:

Dear Naomi,

I am writing this email not because you are responsible for the raise of my salary, for approving my days off and allowances for Python classes, not because it is professional or because I am expected to do so or say so, not because I spend a third of my day sitting 5 feet from you(or maybe less) but simply because I wanted to say how extremely very happy I am for you... After 2 years in Greece you probably know those Balkan types - we say what we think... :)

Once upon the time I was miserable and unhappy for years - I don't even want to remember that time - and once I made the "big decision" to take my life in my own hands and get rid of the misery - life started making sense again and there was no living human being on this world that can erase the smile from my face. I hope the same will happen to you soon (if it is not happening already) and all the fear about acceptance and the surrounding world will be just part of the past. I know we all like you for who you are, and we will like you even more because you will be happy too - no matter how you look or what name you have. I can also argue about the courage part - it does take a hell lot of courage to do what you are doing - it is so much easier to be miserable and find excuses not to do anything.

I tend to lose my words (which are not very English-y anyways) that's why I wanted to write to you and say Happy Birthday - I am just worried that if I say it I may mess up the words and I may say something wrong. So once again - I am very happy for you, I am glad you decided to do that and I hope you will be very very happy finally being who you really are. Cheers for you and all the happy future moments... :)

Congratulations for your Birthday, cheers and good luck :) You were very serious today - I hope the next time I see you you will be smiling :) I hope it is not unprofessional of me to write such an email to their boss - but once again - Balkans, what can you do :)

In spite of her apologies for her English and for her Balkan directness, Daniela's note had something very important and deeply heartening, something I needed. Daniela's message is not one of support in the face of adversity. It's not condolences and sympathy for someone facing misfortune. Instead, in my life and hers Daniela saw a shared experience - we both had taken our lives in our own hands to get rid of the misery. And in that shared experience she knew the outcome was joy.

Many times trans people get messages that express support for us and sympathy at how hard things must be for us. And those messages are valued because of the genuine caring behind them. But far more precious is joy. Joy at who we are and joy at our having the courage to embrace ourselves. Joy.

So thank you, Daniela. Your message was more important and read more times than you might imagine. And here's to our smiles that no one on this world can erase.

Carl - A "PyCon Friend"

Carl - A "PyCon Friend"

The first story of coming out is from Carl. Carl and I met at PyCon a few years ago, and we have become "PyCon friends." We see each other in person once a year at PyCon, and we interact sporadically with each other on Twitter and Facebook. In spite of our somewhat infrequent contact, I would say our friendship is genuine.

Carl is middle aged, low key, and his appearance tends to support his own description of himself as conservative. He is also so  self-deprecating that I sometimes want to shake him. 

And yet Carl is the first person I'm writing about in series. That's for the very simple reason that when the word got out that I was considering this project, he immediately sent me the messages we had exchanged when I told him about my transition, along with the following note:

Naomi,

I saw your idea for recording the reactions of people learning about your trans status (I think it was on twitter).

Disclaimer:  I am not that important nor that smart or accomplished.

Nonetheless, the exchange below fits into the "breaking the ice" type of experience, support, etc. that you are talking about.

If you want to use this for anything trans-related or related to the project, you have my permission to use my identity, my situation (the loss of my wife to suicide), etc. for the project.  I'd rather not have my e-mail published for spam reasons. But if a non-anonymous e-mail is a sign of solidarity with you or the trans movement, I will happily suffer the spam.

Thanks for being you.

Carl

See what I mean about the self-deprecation? But even so, it's pretty clear that Carl is a genuinely good guy.

I don't know when I would have come out to Carl, if I hadn't gotten an email from him about a month before my transition. It was an appeal for donations to a suicide prevention walk he was doing. In it he mentioned that he had fairly recently lost his wife to suicide, but the hook of  his appeal was a joke about how he needed to raise a certain amount of money to get the T-shirt. (Yeah, guys are like that sometimes, god love 'em.)

I really wanted to express my sympathy over his loss, and to give a little to his cause, but it seemed false to do so as the old me, since the old me would be gone even before he did the walk. So along with my condolences and my donation, he got the unexpected news of my transition, and I wondered if I'd lost a PyCon friend.

I didn't have long to wait - in about two hours I had this in my inbox:

Thank you so much for your donation to the suicide foundation.

I haven't read your blog post yet, but I understand you must be going
through a lot.  The physical end of things, as I understand it, is
pretty challenging.  No doubt the emotional end is far more so.

I am totally ignorant about these things and will undoubtably say very
stupid, offensive things.  Try to remember that my intentions are good
and that I like you and think highly of you.

If I offer to take Naomi out to dinner or hit on her, try not to hate me.

Hang in there.  As long as they're not doing anything to that
genius brain of yours, everything will go fine!  All the best.

So I still had Carl as a PyCon friend. The line about taking Naomi out to dinner startled me. It implied that once I transitioned, he'd think of me as a woman, and that was something I'd told myself I shouldn't expect from anyone. 

When I recently asked him to describe his re-action to my news, Carl's answer was this:

I hope my further information/answer to your question isn't an affront
or hurtful in any way.  I always value honesty above all else - this
is a mixed bag:

1) I was surprised that you had anything "going on."  You seemed so
happy and upbeat.  I never would have known you had inner conflict.

2) Concern - I genuinely like you.  It's not a question of whether I
approve/disapprove/think it's normal/think it's not - it has
everything to do with "I hope Naomi gets through this OK."

Really, that's it.  The whole deal with your gender did not enter my
thought process (and, honestly, raised hard core Catholic, I will
probably always be in my gut socially conservative).  It was all about
someone I liked and respected and their welfare.  What can I say?
People (even oafish types like me) are complex.

Carl makes it clear that he didn't really know the "right" way to support me. In fact, he was pretty sure that he was going to do something wrong.  But when it came down to the heart of the matter he was right on:  "It's not a question of whether I approve/disapprove/think it's normal/think it's not ...  It was all about someone I liked and respected and their welfare."

Thanks, Carl, for your support and your friendship. See you at PyCon. 

A note about these stories

A note about these stories

A while ago I had the idea of sharing some of the stories of my coming out to people, and more importantly the beautiful reactions that I got. When I mentioned this on social media, it was clear that the idea resonated, with both trans and cisgender folks.

I think at first I was assuming some kind of book, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided that I wanted it to be easy to create, easily accessible to a wide audience, cheap or even free, and open to ongoing contributions, from others as well as myself. That doesn't describe a book at all, but it does pretty closely fit a blog.

Participation, Sharing, and Copyright

I'm starting stories from my own transition, because those are the ones I know. If someone else would like to add to them, just contact me, and we'll work that out. For the moment, everything that I publish here will be copyright under my name. I'm a big fan of more open content licenses, but I also believe that personal stories deserve to be a bit more closely guarded. Still, if you want to re-use a larger chunk of what's here than fair use would allow, please just contact me.

And finally, if anyone sees this and decides to steal the idea (and hopefully make it better), please do. Create your own blog, write a book, set up a YouTube channel, fill your Tumblr, whatever you like. If you help fill the world with positive stories of cisgender people accepting trans folk we will all be happier. Well, at least I will.

"There's something I need you to know about me..."

"There's something I need you to know about me."

So began several messages I sent to friends and acquaintances as I began my transition. The thing I needed them to know was that I was a transgender woman, a male to female transsexual. After too many years living as a male, I was finally accepting this fact and I wanted people to finally know the real me. And I also hoped that they would accept me.

While it was a good decision and I've never been more at peace, there are lots of things that are hard for trans women. And by hard, I mean very terrifyingly painfully gut-wrenchingly I-don't-know-if-I-can-do-this hard.

The hardest thing for many of us is to even admit we are trans. We deny it, we grasp at explanations that will prove we aren't trans, we self medicate with alcohol and other drugs, and we try to ignore it in the hope it will just go away. And when we finally realize it won't go away, we (least those of us who are female identified) have to push aside a lifetime of internalized misogyny and transphobia to painfully come to that admission. We have to admit that we are in fact what we have been taught to believe is the "lowest of the low" - not just a woman, but someone who couldn't handle being a man, and chose to live as a woman.

If admitting we're trans is the hardest part, the second hardest thing is what comes next - if we're going to transition we need to come out to our families, friends, and coworkers. I used to think of how easy transitioning would be if I didn't have to tell anyone. But I also knew that wouldn't be living a real life. And it's not just family, friends, and co-workiers. We also need to come out to our doctors, lawyers, neighbors, and even the librarian and the guy at the rental car counter.

So I came out to a lot of people before and shortly after my transition. I even developed a system for it. I had a blog post that told the basic story and when I needed to tell someone I would send an email or IM directing them there. But having a system didn't mean it ever got easier. Every time, I would pause, take a deep breath, and say goodbye to that person in my mind. Then I would hit 'send' and wait. I hoped that they would accept me, but I didn't expect it. Every single time I sent that message it felt like a farewell.

Almost always it wasn't a farewell. Most times the answers, your answers, came back full of warmth, support, and friendship. And to be honest, that helped me when I needed it most. After waking up at 4 am to lie in bed worrying about the future, getting up and reading your messages warmed me and fed me.

I never got over that dread of potential loss as I sent those coming out messages. But in fact coming out, or your responses to it, was a major positive force in my transition.

And that's why I want to share some of those stories. I want to share them with people who are yearning to transition, but are so scared of telling people, and with people who are in the process of transitioning and are lying awake worrying. People can and will accept and support you.

I also want to share these stories with non-trans people who've just gotten a coming out message from someone they never suspected and are now groping for a how and a why to guide their answer. Don't worry about saying something "wrong". A sincere and thoughtful message of support will mean the world to the person who just trusted you with this news, and who is now wondering if they've lost you.