U-Turn: a UU transman ponders sex, spirituality, and the power of stories

So last week my doctor called just to reassure me that she had not forgotten me. My file was on her desk, she told me, and a call in to an endocrinologist, regarding how to safely proceed with hormone therapy despite my ongoing health issues. I was still recovering from that nasty sinus bug, and the call had happened to wake me from an extra-late sleep, so I was a little fuzzy, but I remember she said something like, “I feel strongly that we can move forward with this.” I truly appreciated the call, and her encouraging statement about moving forward - even though the immediate content of the conversation was that I’m still basically in a holding pattern. I mostly keep this issue out of my everyday consciousness. I try not to dwell on it, or worry much about it. But there’s an undercurrent of tension that continues to swirl quietly around it, way out there in the background. I can handle waiting... but there’s still and always the fear that “Wait” will turn into “No” at some point. ...

Still catching up from my three-plus weeks of illness (gah), but aiming to get back on a regular schedule now (crossing fingers). Was it Jubal Harshaw who, if he didn’t write, got “spiritually constipated”? I forget. Anyway... I think I’ll write a bit. This world takes a lot of digesting! A few folks here and there have asked me “technical” questions about the phenomenon of being Transgender. It’s easy for me to forget, considering my lifelong fascination with issues of sex and gender, that this is a sort of esoteric knowledge, in its way - widely available, but not widely familiar. So tonight, I’ll take a stab at actually explaining some of the technical stuff. (And please forgive the Rocky Horror quote in the title... you’ll soon see why it was irresistible!) The most important thing to understand is that being Trans is now understood to be a physical and physiological problem, not a psychological one. (Though it can certainly cause its share of psychological problems, including ...

So this past week I’ve been ill with a really nasty bug - hence the skipped installment. Hence, also, the fact that I ended up unexpectedly being home for part of the “Dancing With The Stars” season premiere... an unplanned bright stop in my truly awful week. So I figure I'll start there, as I attempt to write something meaningful and understandable in the midst of my fever-dreams and coughing fits. I’m a fan of ballroom dance. I’ve been intrigued by it since I was a kid. And one of the things that make it so fascinating (besides the fact that it’s simply amazing to watch, when done with great skill) is that it’s one of the most highly gendered art forms around. In fact it might almost be described, with some accuracy, as being basically an artistic portrayal of gender relationships - albeit largely those of a previous century. I didn’t have words for it, as a kid, but I always knew which half of the duo I identified with. When Danny Kaye swept Vera Ellen off the dance floor ...

So, I’m “out” at work these days. It’s both a delight and a challenge. It’s also very early in the process for that. According to standard recommendations, I ought to have waited until I was well into hormone therapy - until the physical changes had progressed so far that I could not possibly have continued hiding behind my old female identity. There are good reasons for this recommendation, of course. Coming out on the job is a much bigger risk for many transfolk than it was for me. You see, I don’t have a mortgage, a spouse or any dependents; I don’t have a career that needs protecting or an image that bears preserving. My life thus far has been somewhat chaotic. Okay, very chaotic. I’m still finding my path. And I had good reasons for choosing not to go by the book. For one thing, pre-existing health concerns make it uncertain how far I will be able to go in terms of physical transition. (I’m still waiting on the okay for hormones, which is making me very very nervous; it’s al...

I sometimes feel like writing this blog is a very self-absorbed thing to do. I mean, really... who wants to hear about all my weird experiences and thoughts on this crazy ride of mine? Okay, so in many ways it helps me to write it, helps with all of the processing and pondering - but does that mean I have to publish it? And while I’ve hoped it might help to spur more conversation, more dialogue and more visibility around these issues, especially in my home community - well, who knows whether that’ll really happen or not? Maybe I’m even embarrassing a few folks who wish I’d be quieter about all of this! But lately I’ve been talking with a friend of mine who recently lost an old and dear companion to a probable suicide... and it makes me think again. My friend’s friend had no LGBTQ-related issues that I know of. But it is likely that this person felt really alone. Really, really alone. I know what that feels like. I remember a night, probably about six years ago, when I lay awake...

So, the dance continues - more blood tests before there can be a decision on my being cleared to start on testosterone. Before this starts to sound like a complaint, I should mention that I dearly love my doctor - doctors, actually, both my primary and the sort-of-specialist (by experience rather than training) who will be overseeing the medical aspects of my transition. What those aspects will be is still a bit up in the air. I have numerous health problems, enough that I originally assumed the answer to any query I might make about hormone therapy would likely be, “Are you insane?” But then came a time when I knew I needed to ask - and now I have two new allies whom I cherish. And I appreciate that they are concerned about the whole person. They’d like me to actually live long enough to enjoy this new life I’m pursuing! I confess, I’d like that too. And my health is a mess, neglected through many, many years of depression and near-hopelessness. (And if that doesn’t sound like a...

So today I’m having a blast googling Trans Pride buttons. I just finished having a really “fun” medical procedure (pelvic ultrasound, rah rah rah) and was having some difficulties reining in my sense of humor during it. Those of you who’ve had one know what I’m talking about here... and in my case the gender juxtapositions made it even funnier, like some weird porno flick involving a camera, cold lube and a big stick. When it was done, I wanted to ask the dominatrix - excuse me, I mean, the lab technician - if it was good for her, too, and maybe offer her a cigarette. I’m also remembering that I once actually did that during a very silly Beltaine ritual, following the symbolic performance (the athame-and-chalice version) of the Great Rite. Ironically, my co-ritualist later came out to me as being Trans... which makes me think, dammit, I knew we should have done it the other way ‘round... Sorry... but moments like that just plain bring out the comic in me, and always have. I lau...