September 30, 1992:
- Mariel Hemingway appears nude on the TV show Civil Wars.
- George Brett gets 4 hits to raise his total to 3000.
- Hurricane Bonnie dissipated (a private irony).
- University mathematics professor begins transition in rural Arkansas.
It was a very difficult decision.
And at the same time, it was a very easy one.
Originally at Docudharma
I had grown up as a boy. I had spent a very good deal of my adulthood as a man, for the sake of my family.
But I didn't want to grow to be an old man. I chose to grow to be an old woman instead.
I ask you: who should have the right to deny me that?
Actually, it was five days short of seventeen year ago rather than twenty. And nobody taught the band to play. And, come to think of it, there was no band. Just me by myself, trying to learn to survive in the new world that was opening up before me.
Or die trying.
And the music did often have the sound of a dirge.
I sometimes wish I had a better record of those times, beyond the few poems I had written beginning in June of that year. And the letter. Ah, yes, the letter. But before December of 1992, I was not yet connected to the net. I was devoid of community, people to talk with about what was going on inside of me. I was more or less alone.
Five days before September 30, 1992, I was quite probably composing the letter.
Around the beginning of that semester, I decided that this staying in the closet thing just wasn't working. I felt like I could stand in our living room and stretch out my arms in opposite directions and touch both walls. As time passed, it seemed that what was truly the case was that I could touch both ends of my world...my universe.
I was not totally without resources. I had gone to the library and studied whatever I could find about transsexuality...which was remarkably little, considering this was a university library. And I knew a few people, like Jennifer P, who was first president of the University of Central Arkansas' Lesbian and Gay Students Association, of which my own daughter, also named Jennifer (it was a popular name that year: our daughter was named after Jennifer Warren, of Hair fame) was also a founding member. Both Jennifers had been in my Pre-Calculus class a few years earlier.
Knowing that I was going to need a therapist, I asked Jennifer P. if she knew of anyone. She gave me the number of Ralph Hyman, who suggested that maybe it would be better if I saw Kurt Wilhelm, who was to become my primary therapist. I was later became the first trans member of Ralph's gay and lesbian therapy group sessions. The first available appointment that Kurt had was on Wednesday, September 30. I took it.
It was not lost on me that this was my deceased father's birthday...just like it is not lost on me that this coming September 30 is a Wednesday (which is not exceptionally odd, but I thought I would mention it).
Bill and I
Spring, 1992 |
So anyway, I had some time to wait. I don't remember exactly how much. But I do remember I was treading a very unstable high wire. Seventeen people knew I was transsexual. Other people just thought I had undergone a huge change for some reason...was either going crazy, I had reported to me, had AIDS. I had lost a lot of weight. And had shed the beard I had sported since I was discharged from the Army.
Note: Why would a transsexual woman have worn a beard for 19 years? Probably because I had been a hippie in the Haight in my younger days. Possibly because it is easy to hide one's emotions behind a beard. And quite likely because shaving one's face is one of the most quintessentially masculine activities there is in this society.
Me from the same angle
(my office, December, 1992) |
So I wrote the letter. In order to afford being able to see a therapist, I needed to have it covered by my insurance. In order to get paid by the insurance company, the therapist would have to provide the diagnosis, so the insurance company was going to know...and through them my HR department. That is, my employer.
Feces, please observe yonder air propulsion unit.
For better or worse, I developed a plan. I would come out to the students in my Abstract Algebra class and tell them, no matter what happened in the next few days, it was important for their educational careers that they study hard and do well in the first exam of the semester, scheduled for the following Monday. And I would tell them that even if they never see me again in front of them, I had enjoyed interacting with them and all the years I had been teaching at UCA. Then I would cancel the rest of the class, go drop off the letter the chair of the department and head for Little Rock.
And that meant having to write The Letter.
I'm sure on the day in question, my nerves were completely shot, that I was a total wreck. But I tried to keep a smile on my face as much as I could.
Crushed WorldRendering a Person
Walls
separating me from
almost everyone
closing in
strangling
compressing
crushing
the life
out of me
I could die
or I could let
the compactification
squeeze
the new me
the real me
out from within
Was it really a choice?
--Robyn Elaine Serven
--September 25, 2009 |
|
Oh. Yeah. The Letter. I once wrote a poem about it. And I have shared The Letter online before. I wish I had been able to say things as elegantly then as I have learned how to do now. But that was then and this is now.
{Note: As I look back, I notice that I would not use some of the phrasing in this letter if I were to write it today. It reflects my lack of knowledge about and understanding about what it really means to be transsexual. Hence it is rather full of cliches. I didn't know any better.}
Dear Chuck:
I'm writing this as a letter rather than speaking to you in person because it concerns a personal problem which is difficult for me to speak about to most people. This problem has raised in my mind many peripheral problems, some of which have troubled me at work and caused my recent "attitude adjustment." Since resolution of these problems and the original one will concern you in your position of chairman, I will try to explain. Please read the entire letter before you react to it.
I am sure that some, or perhaps many, of my colleagues have questioned my recent behavior. I recently heard that Brenda, for instance, asked Peggy, "What's wrong with (previous name)?" This question errs on perhaps two points. The first concerns the word "wrong." From my point of view, my life has been "wrong" for the last 33 years and has finally been getting corrected during the last nine months. It has been unfortunate that this has occurred simultaneously with several different but ultimately related concerns (my concerns with what I perceive to be repression on campus, in Arkansas, and in American society, as well as what I perceive to be an undervaluing of my contributions to the department).
The second has to do with my name, a typically common, if not boring, male appellation. My problem with it is that I believe that I am, and believe that I was born, a transsexual. By this I mean that my mind is that of a female. Since I was born with a male body, this has presented me with a very difficult row to hoe in life, and the lower middle class values of my typical 1950's American family upbringing caused me to try to deny this facet of myself for 3/4 of my life, i.e. since that point in time I was informed in no uncertain terms that I better "straighten up and fly right." At that instant, a different personality was created. Thus was born (previous name) as a foil to set against the world. This personality crumbled into dust this past summer. Dead. Gone. I'm only left with me, and my social skills are at best rusty and at worst extremely stunted. As you may have noticed, I tend to lack a degree of tact present in most of our colleagues. The present state of affairs has left me angry, very angry, at the culture that has put me where I am, and I will continue to speak out in the future about my perceptions of the damaging aspects of this society.
So, what am I going to do about the present situation? The only solution I can conceive of is gender correction surgery. This is what raises the peripheral problems.
The first is of course a physical problem. In order to be considered a candidate for the surgery, I must first go through a lot of therapy. I am presently endeavoring to get this under way, but the choice of a therapist is of utmost importance. The second step is generally the same and is one that concerns me, you, the rest of the department, the administration, and the students at UCA. A male candidate for gender reassignment is usually required to live for a year as a woman. I guess this is an effort to find out if we are truly serious about our decision, as if we hadn't really thought it out. During this period, candidates usually begin taking hormones to change the configuration of the body. After all, society tends to judge us by our appearance (If it walks like a duck, etc.). As you might suppose, I foresee some problem with this "behavior" in my role as a teacher (by the way, it has been me, not (my previous name), who has been teaching in class; it has been my only outlet). This is the reason that I have said I may not be here next year. We transsexuals tend to be extremely unselfish in that we don't want people to be uneasy, to the extent that we usually ruin our own lives. The reactions of my colleagues, employers, and students concerns me greatly, so I prefer not to place any burden on anyone's shoulders but my own. Unfortunately, according to the faculty handbook, there does not seem to be a provision for taking a lengthy medical leave from this institution, only for taking academic leave. This problem begs resolution.
There is also a problem about the fact that I have tenure at this institution. Again, I don't want to be here if I'm not wanted, but teaching is my life. I'm not at all confident of obtaining employment elsewhere in a "new position" environment. As far as I can discern, again from the faculty handbook, there is no reason the Administration will be able to supply that will support termination of my employment for cause. I have done nothing outside of the privacy of my own home, and I doubt that I have done anything even there (but I'm not conversant with all laws of the state of Arkansas), that could constitute "grave personal misconduct." But my pre- and post-surgery existence will undoubtedly be the personification of pornography to some and blasphemy to others. Some may even turn violence my way. It has happened before. Since I intend to continue in my career as a damn good teacher, I need to know the position of all concerned up front. To protect myself, I'm meeting with a lawyer (Michael Murphy) tomorrow. Since my sex cannot be used as a determining factor in my hiring or firing, I fail to see how the changing of my sex should affect my position.
The third problem that arises is monetary. Gender reassignment is generally not covered by insurance. I sincerely don't believe this is fair, since the only alternative I have is suicide. (Yes, I have already considered it this year). This points out the need for therapy obviously, but I truly can only see one future of any length. To deny surgery to me using the two-pronged attack that insurance companies usually follow (it is elective surgery, or if not, it is a pre-existing condition) is to deny me a chance at life.
Since I have always only tried to have just "enough" money, I don't know how to raise the money sufficient to cover the expense involved (which is considerable). The option of approaching my family is non-existent since only my mother-in-law has the money, and Becky will not ask it from her. The only option I can conceive of could possibly be solved by the administration's response to the previous paragraph.
The final (as yet) problem that has arisen is emotional. Although Becky is vocally supportive of my decision, her actions belie her words. She acts at every turn to try an isolate me in order to protect her own status in the university community. We have had several (rather vicious) fights about this and our friendship will probably not last. There will be times in the near future that I will not be in the best of even my current moods. I would appreciate anything that you can do to deflect from me anything that does not bear directly on my teaching.