I first heard the phrase “transition or die” some thirty years ago, and found it rang so true for me. Partly because I’ve lived a good part of my life fighting and killing myself over being trans. All because of denial. Transition or Die. Not like you would keel over if you didn’t transition, just don’t ever expect to be content or complete. A life that could have been happier, better lived, more worthwhile if only I had accepted myself. Instead, a good part of my life was wasted. “Being wasted” is more like it.
No one chooses this path, no one says “hey I think I’ll be trans for the fun of it” as there is nothing fun about it. Or easy. Transitioning may mean the loss of a job, a career, and friends or family. Trying to bury one’s true identity because of social stigma. The world lacks understanding or knowledge of what it means to be a trans individual, because all they see is a one-sided dialogue from people who find us appalling.
It’s a horrible life. A slow and miserable death really.
I’m getting further in my own transition, to the point I am comfortable with who I am as a trans person. In medical terms, if you are uncomfortable with your gender it’s called gender dysphoria, or GD for short. My discomfort in being trans is waning then, especially after the surgery eliminated the male hormone testosterone.
What does transitioning as a trans person really mean though? I have no clue, as it’s not written down in any playbook. Not that I’ve found at least. Once again, I’m strictly expressing my opinion based on my own experiences. But from what I can tell there isn’t a set methodology for transitioning, you learn as you go. Believe me, you make several mistakes getting there. Plus it’s so different for everyone, all part of our individual uniqueness.
Transitioning is simply getting to a point where your mind and body can live in harmony. At least to where you are comfortable, dare I say happy, with who you are as a person. It’s a unique experience, and all the trans folk I have talked to have completely different experiences. The end game is the same regardless, getting to a point where you can love who you are, accept the fact and get on with finding some happiness. Finally.
I must give credit to the transwoman who first enlightened me to the phrase “Transition or Die”. A beautiful soul named Cassandra. This was in the early 90’s, but she had been a long time trans rights activist. Way ahead of the curve in transitioning, embracing who she was with more love than I could imagine. I met her during my time in a chat room on AOL named Transexual Menace.
I won’t bore you with the history of America Online, or AOL. A way to connect with people around the globe, it was a godsend for those of us still closeted transwomen. I finally found out I was not alone, although I was entirely unique, I was not weird or a freak.
I was still living with my first wife and kids at the time, and after they went to bed I sat in the darkened family room for hours and hours in the same chat room. I gained reams of knowledge on what it meant to be trans. We had a “home” in the chat, and a family of friends, many with drugs or alcohol issues, or both. Many were suicidal like myself, and this one chat room was often our salvation.
Cassandra was born Carl, and the first transgendered person I called friend.
The chatrooms were started by whoever wanted to, any user and any age. Of course the internet is full of pitfalls and predators. People could pose as anyone. There were rooms for every like or dislike on the planet, social media in its infancy.
There was a fairly regular group in the Transexual Menace chat, mainly people like myself trying to find out who we were. A lot of us were “late bloomers”, in their 30’s or older, finally having to face facts and dealing with who they were as a trans person. Besides my wife of 13 years no one else knew I was trans and coming out to people like myself was now easier to do.
Many queer folk in the chat had tried their damnedest to be “normal”. Put up the facade to fit in as a straight man, often married with kids of various ages. The facade we all hid behind. But marriages often failed, careers lost, children who pulled away and the lives they lived were often sad and lonely.
The Silent Generation is often how we’re referred to. Due to the social circumstances, families, careers and the lack of understanding and acceptance, we kept our real selves buried. Or tried. Closeted people like myself, and other gay, lesbian, or transgendered people. We either remained closeted, or transitioned only when conditions allowed us. If they ever did.
Cassandra lived on a farm in south central New Jersey, and 2 -3 times a year would host a gathering of Queerfolk. Mainly the core group from the chat room came. We all had become friends, everyone was accepted for who they were, there was no judgement from peers.
You could dress as you wanted without fear of rejection or humiliation. We hadn’t ever seen each other online, cell phones and selfies and Facebook had yet to be invented, but we somehow “knew” each other.
There wasn’t any sex involved, it had nothing to do with sexual orientation. More like a family gathering. That’s the best way to put it, we had become a family, bonding over who we were. Lots of laughing…and lots of crying. Really the only requirement to attend was no alcohol or drugs were allowed. This was a celebration, not a party.
That’s where I truly realized I was not alone, that there were others out there pretty much in my shoes, or high heels if you like. I learned what it fully means to be transsexual, and the pathways you can take in transitioning. I learned, but didn’t take it to heart for 18 years later. If I hadn’t begun to transition I wouldn’t be alive today and sharing my stories.
Many of the transwomen were accompanied by their wives or partners, a family affair. Only a few transwomen in attendance had begun transitioning with HRT, it was hard to find a doctor that knew what they were doing with hormone replacement therapy. It wasn’t paid for by health care or insurance, and not legal in most States. Sadly that’s still the case.
That was a problem with trying to transition, and still is, health care. I won’t go into the issues here, but as I stated in the early 90’s HRT was illegal in many states and unknown in the rest. There are still miles to go as far as acceptance in society in general, but the concept of being transsexual was unheard of by many in the medical community back then.
I learned you have to look in the mirror and love yourself for who you are, and embrace the fact that being trans wasn’t going to magically disappear or be “cured”. No matter how much booze or drugs you took to bury the feeling, it wasn’t going to change. The more you tried to deny the fact the worse gender dysphoria became.
So lies the question, when is the right time to transition? That’s another story, and an on-going one. I don’t know if you ever stop, if you ever hit a place where you quit evolving, growing.
I’ve lost track of Cassandra over the years, but would love to find her once again. Maybe she’s posting somewhere, or chatting with a group of transfolk on a new platform.
There’s a great site for trans folk called Susan’s Place at www.susans.org that has a superb posting section with tons of topics for transmen and women.Maybe our paths will cross there. It has a wealth of information and a lot of posts by trans folks going through the process of transitioning. It’s been around for 30 or 40 years now, with the same core group, and can help with people like myself, or their friends and families.
This hasn’t been an easy life, but it’s mine. I need to embrace it while I still have the time…and the energy. I’m getting there.