Signing My Name, or The Perils Of Caution
So, after a long (though unintentional) break in posting this summer, it definitely feels like time to get writing again. And while there’s a lot to share about these past few months, their challenges, and the thoughts and questions they’ve raised, I’m going to start with a symbolic act that feels significant to me: attaching my real name to this journal and its contents.
Last year, when I first came out to my little community of friends and coworkers, and started this journaling project, there were a number of important questions that I intentionally put on a back burner, with the understanding that sometimes things just need to simmer for a while. One of those questions concerned the wisdom of being too public about being Transgender. (Remember, these were the days before Caitlyn Jenner, LOL - yeah, baby, I was Trans before Trans was cool. :::grin:::) In particular, the wisdom of putting my real, legal name on this journal.
Now, that might seem like an odd thing to worry about, considering that I had just come out of the closet to my entire church community (and anyone else who happened to be visiting that day) from the pulpit, with a microphone! But there is a difference between being out in one’s own community, and being out to the world at large.
You see, it’s terribly hard to make things go away, once they’ve been on the Web. And it’s terribly easy for all kinds of people who are not directly part of your face-to-face community to come across those things. For instance: we’re warned, these days, that prospective employers commonly troll the Net to see whether you’re really the kind of person they’re looking for, whether your public image is appropriate for their standards. (Oops, you knew you never should have let your best friend from college post that picture from your senior frat party, right?)
Or, hey, what if some Concerned Citizen who doesn’t even know me should happen to decide, just on principle, to harass my current employer for hiring “someone like me”? It happens - sad but true.
So far, I’ve been lucky enough to be overwhelmingly surrounded by supportive and respectful people... but I know that’s not always the case. I personally know other Trans individuals, right here in the city and state that I call home, who have received very different treatment, in some cases even abuse. Part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And someday, in some unexpected way, it almost certainly will. But I’ve been thinking lately about the perils of not taking important risks, large or small. The problem of being too cautious when there is no specific reason to be.
When I first started this journal, I was not yet out to all of my immediate family, or to my boss and coworkers. There was good reason to be careful. But since then, I’ve had all the difficult conversations, written all the letters (though I have yet to send a couple of them), negotiated all the workplace challenges. In January my doctor approved me to begin taking testosterone, the most common first step for a person physically transitioning from female to male. And as a result of that, slowly, gradually, visible changes have begun, which I have gladly embraced. There is no hiding for me anymore.
Nor have I exactly been trying to hide. I wholeheartedly invite conversation and questions; I’m always ready to be a resource. I want to help people understand this crazy thing called “gender identity” which is really far more complicated than it seems. I want to help increase the visibility of Transgender persons in our world, to show that we are just as human, just as normal (and just as mixed-up, which is also normal!) as the next guy.
A few months back I even started publicly putting my professional skills in the service of this goal, creating what I hope will become our state’s first chorus for Transgender singers (who often don’t fit the “standard” voice ranges ) and Allies. (See transposition-vocal-ensemble.blogspot.com if you want more information!)
No, I’m certainly not hiding.
Still, something has held me back from this last step, of putting my signature on this very public, and yet very personal, online journal. And when I look at what that something is, it’s really not anything. It’s just a vague sense of “You should be careful”... like a remembered maternal warning.
It reminds me a lot of the way people advise other people not to get tattoos or piercings... because someday, when your greatest goal is to penetrate the sacred walls of Corporate America, you’ll regret it! Or when you get old and wrinkly, ugh, right? You’ll wish you’d been more careful, more conservative... in a word, more sane.
And sure, you might. But you know what? For every would-be bank president with “tattoo regret,” there’s probably at least one one brilliant chef, one computer programmer - or heck, one aging hipster - who still loves their ink.
The real question, I suspect, is not “Are you being cautious enough?” but rather, “How well do you know yourself?”
Admittedly, not many of us know ourselves very well in our early twenties, when presumably most extemporaneous body-art occurs. (Though we’re still expected to make far-reaching life decisions at that age... go figure!) Those who think they’re free spirits might ultimately realize they’re not... while those who think they’re happy in the box are busy breaking free!
I don’t have any tattoos as of yet - though that may change as I finally start to feel more comfortable in my own body. I do have a couple of quite visible facial piercings, which haven’t seemed to prevent anyone from taking me seriously as a professional, or as a leader in my church, or as a safe and capable teacher for their kids.
And I’m no longer in my twenties. I’m a grown man and I’ve spent the last twenty-plus years learning about myself. Not everything, I’m sure, but a few pretty important things! For instance, I know by now that I am not likely ever to be a bank president, or wish to be one. I know that I am a showman, a creative performer, at heart, and an activist (albeit often a quiet one) in my soul. I know that the things in my life which are most important to me can’t be taken away by being tattooed, pierced - or publicly known as a man who was not born physically male.
And there is something about that mindset which lacks a specific fear, and yet always counsels caution, that I have to reject, or not be able to fully be the person I am.
I’ve spent a lot of my life in fear, as many Transgender persons have. Those vague fears that whisper always that there’s something deeply but invisibly WRONG with you, something you can’t quite place, that makes you constantly worry... am I doing it right? Am I acting normal enough? Am I fooling them?
In coming out, and in choosing to transition, I took a huge first step in facing and dismissing those fears. But there are so many more steps to come - and this is one of them.
And so today I choose to proudly affix my real signature to these wordy, intimate, and hopefully at least occasionally provocative ramblings. Thank you for reading them. Here’s hoping we meet here again many, many times. And when we do, you can call me by name.
Michael Phoenix, formerly Val (Valerie) Brown
9/4/2015
Last year, when I first came out to my little community of friends and coworkers, and started this journaling project, there were a number of important questions that I intentionally put on a back burner, with the understanding that sometimes things just need to simmer for a while. One of those questions concerned the wisdom of being too public about being Transgender. (Remember, these were the days before Caitlyn Jenner, LOL - yeah, baby, I was Trans before Trans was cool. :::grin:::) In particular, the wisdom of putting my real, legal name on this journal.
Now, that might seem like an odd thing to worry about, considering that I had just come out of the closet to my entire church community (and anyone else who happened to be visiting that day) from the pulpit, with a microphone! But there is a difference between being out in one’s own community, and being out to the world at large.
You see, it’s terribly hard to make things go away, once they’ve been on the Web. And it’s terribly easy for all kinds of people who are not directly part of your face-to-face community to come across those things. For instance: we’re warned, these days, that prospective employers commonly troll the Net to see whether you’re really the kind of person they’re looking for, whether your public image is appropriate for their standards. (Oops, you knew you never should have let your best friend from college post that picture from your senior frat party, right?)
Or, hey, what if some Concerned Citizen who doesn’t even know me should happen to decide, just on principle, to harass my current employer for hiring “someone like me”? It happens - sad but true.
So far, I’ve been lucky enough to be overwhelmingly surrounded by supportive and respectful people... but I know that’s not always the case. I personally know other Trans individuals, right here in the city and state that I call home, who have received very different treatment, in some cases even abuse. Part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And someday, in some unexpected way, it almost certainly will. But I’ve been thinking lately about the perils of not taking important risks, large or small. The problem of being too cautious when there is no specific reason to be.
When I first started this journal, I was not yet out to all of my immediate family, or to my boss and coworkers. There was good reason to be careful. But since then, I’ve had all the difficult conversations, written all the letters (though I have yet to send a couple of them), negotiated all the workplace challenges. In January my doctor approved me to begin taking testosterone, the most common first step for a person physically transitioning from female to male. And as a result of that, slowly, gradually, visible changes have begun, which I have gladly embraced. There is no hiding for me anymore.
Nor have I exactly been trying to hide. I wholeheartedly invite conversation and questions; I’m always ready to be a resource. I want to help people understand this crazy thing called “gender identity” which is really far more complicated than it seems. I want to help increase the visibility of Transgender persons in our world, to show that we are just as human, just as normal (and just as mixed-up, which is also normal!) as the next guy.
A few months back I even started publicly putting my professional skills in the service of this goal, creating what I hope will become our state’s first chorus for Transgender singers (who often don’t fit the “standard” voice ranges ) and Allies. (See transposition-vocal-ensemble.blogspot.com if you want more information!)
No, I’m certainly not hiding.
Still, something has held me back from this last step, of putting my signature on this very public, and yet very personal, online journal. And when I look at what that something is, it’s really not anything. It’s just a vague sense of “You should be careful”... like a remembered maternal warning.
It reminds me a lot of the way people advise other people not to get tattoos or piercings... because someday, when your greatest goal is to penetrate the sacred walls of Corporate America, you’ll regret it! Or when you get old and wrinkly, ugh, right? You’ll wish you’d been more careful, more conservative... in a word, more sane.
And sure, you might. But you know what? For every would-be bank president with “tattoo regret,” there’s probably at least one one brilliant chef, one computer programmer - or heck, one aging hipster - who still loves their ink.
The real question, I suspect, is not “Are you being cautious enough?” but rather, “How well do you know yourself?”
Admittedly, not many of us know ourselves very well in our early twenties, when presumably most extemporaneous body-art occurs. (Though we’re still expected to make far-reaching life decisions at that age... go figure!) Those who think they’re free spirits might ultimately realize they’re not... while those who think they’re happy in the box are busy breaking free!
I don’t have any tattoos as of yet - though that may change as I finally start to feel more comfortable in my own body. I do have a couple of quite visible facial piercings, which haven’t seemed to prevent anyone from taking me seriously as a professional, or as a leader in my church, or as a safe and capable teacher for their kids.
And I’m no longer in my twenties. I’m a grown man and I’ve spent the last twenty-plus years learning about myself. Not everything, I’m sure, but a few pretty important things! For instance, I know by now that I am not likely ever to be a bank president, or wish to be one. I know that I am a showman, a creative performer, at heart, and an activist (albeit often a quiet one) in my soul. I know that the things in my life which are most important to me can’t be taken away by being tattooed, pierced - or publicly known as a man who was not born physically male.
And there is something about that mindset which lacks a specific fear, and yet always counsels caution, that I have to reject, or not be able to fully be the person I am.
I’ve spent a lot of my life in fear, as many Transgender persons have. Those vague fears that whisper always that there’s something deeply but invisibly WRONG with you, something you can’t quite place, that makes you constantly worry... am I doing it right? Am I acting normal enough? Am I fooling them?
In coming out, and in choosing to transition, I took a huge first step in facing and dismissing those fears. But there are so many more steps to come - and this is one of them.
And so today I choose to proudly affix my real signature to these wordy, intimate, and hopefully at least occasionally provocative ramblings. Thank you for reading them. Here’s hoping we meet here again many, many times. And when we do, you can call me by name.
Michael Phoenix, formerly Val (Valerie) Brown
9/4/2015
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