This has been perking about in my mind for a while now. I've long felt that the most important form of personal activism is to just exist, openly and proudly. I'm going to attempt to illustrate this with a somewhat lengthy personal backstory. Follow me over the fold...
The final impetus to write this comes from our very own Rei, who I like to consider a friend. In her recent diary series, she mentions a former roommate, Rachel, here.
Rachel was my partner. She was also the first person I ever truly loved, who loved me in return. When we met, I was still married to my first spouse. We were raising two children. I was working at a research university. And I was finally coming to terms with the fact that I was transsexual.
Folks, I have to level with you: this time was the absolute nadir of my existence. I can't offhand think of any time when I could have been less lovable or less able to actually return love to another. At that point in my trans-evolution, I was in the midst of pulling completely inside, very much like a caterpillar going into a chrysalis. To this day, I strongly identify with butterflies as a metaphor for my existence. (This is a tad incongruous, as I'm actually rather butch.) I feel that it is accurate to describe this phase of trans-development as selfish. It had to be. I was attempting to totally rework my identity and self-concept. I was trying to find a way to live my life that didn't cause me to go to bed every night praying to die in my sleep.
In a string of coincidences that are a tale in their own right, Rachel and I managed to encounter one another at just the right time, with just the right mutual need for another to share life and love. I felt a need for caution, though. I had been warned that changing one's hormone balance could lead to having crushes on other people. I can look back with considerable amusement on this now. This happened four times. I never did tell the objects of my crushes about them. In some ways, second puberty was a lot more fun. I was much more prepared for the changes.
Being cautious, and not wanting to hurt Rachel (or myself), I moved out of the house I shared with my (former) spouse, and rented a room from a friend. Rachel and I started dating on November 11, 2001. She was living with Rei and her wife at the time. We dated pretty seriously, and moved in together in January 2002.
Parallel to these events, we were both suffering discrimination. She lost her job, and I fought a losing battle to keep my own. (ENDA NOW DAMN IT!) By March, I suggested we emigrate north to Minnesota, where transpeople at least had state-level civil rights. We were fairly desperately poor, but I've never been happier. I learned from her that you really don't need a lot to be happy.
Of course, there was trouble on the way.
When we were dating, I noticed a sore on her head that would never heal. She said it was from being bonked on the head by a toy, and downplayed it. By the time I finally got her to have it examined, a few years had passed. It was determined to be cancerous. The doctor excised it, and assured us that it was completely removed. We breathed sighs of relief, and went on with living. 2004 was the most golden of years. We were happy and were both working, paying our child support and enjoying life. I started the process to complete my medical transition with the good Dr. Marci Bowers.
In May 2005, my world came crashing down.
Sometime in late 2004, Rachel had started suffering pain in her jaw. She kept it to herself for a while, trying to self-medicate and hope it would mend itself. By spring 2005, she finally sought out a TMJ specialist, who suggested a regimen of jaw exercises designed to improve range of motion. This amounted to nothing. Finally, in late May, she went to an oral surgeon. He was to perform a procedure on her jaw that would force it open. He thus became the first person to actually look into the back of her throat. He told us to make an appointment with an oncologist immediately. As it turned out, she had a cancerous mass the size of a baseball impacting her jaw and working its way into her inner ear and brain stem. I was very glad we had paid for COBRA after she had lost her job earlier that year. Many thousands of dollars were spent, ultimately to no avail. She died January 24th, 2006.
How does this relate to my theme? I firmly believe that silence killed my beloved Rachel. Her OWN silence.
I need to explain a bit more who Rachel was, and where she came from. She was assigned male at birth, born in Florida to a military couple. She spent most of her early life moving around the country to various Air Force bases. It was during this period of time that she learned how dangerous it was to share ANYTHING personal, especially with medical professionals. She never unlearned that lesson. It was useful to her in her own military career as an intelligence analyst and translator for the Army. She didn't just practice Need To Know, she lived and breathed it.
Fast forward a few years. Transsexuality raged in like the juggernaut that it is for many of us. Rachel was hooked firmly on the horns of an insoluble dilemma. On one hand, she needed to enlist the aid of medical professionals (2 therapists, a general practitioner, and a genital surgeon; minimum) if she was going to reach the goal of transition. (Side note: she never made it to the surgeon. She was already too ill.) On the other hand, she was extremely unwilling to share much personal info with any single provider, deciding for herself what each of them 'Needed To Know.' I can remember her obsessing about giving a blood sample to a life insurance company, convinced that they would somehow deduce she had been assigned male at birth. Maybe things could have been different if she had shared the fact that she was a veteran of the first Gulf War, or that she was taking estrogen and androgen blockers. Or even been willing to seek medical attention sooner. I'd have gladly been poorer if it could have saved her.
I refuse to make the same mistake. I live openly as trans, and will discuss it with anyone who wishes to discuss it respectfully.