(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . I am Madison. Two years of gender transition. [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.', 'Backgroundurl Avatar_Large', 'Nickname', 'Joined', 'Created_At', 'Story Count', 'N_Stories', 'Comment Count', 'N_Comments', 'Popular Tags'] Date: 2023-04-28 The view from my office. Up here, the small minded bigotries of daily life seem so far away. I’m just this girl who loves planes and ponies. That’s all. In a better world, this would be how people would think of me. But I’m transgender, you know? So apparently, that’s a bigger deal than it ought to be. Something like 19 states have passed laws threatening my daily existence, and even worse, often aimed at vulnerable youth. Imagine a world where diabetics found their access to insulin under legislative attack in 40% of the country, where you could still be fired for being diabetic, where Fox News pundits regularly talk about the “diabetic conspiracy” to dose kids with childhood diabetes with “experimental” medication, where just the mention of being diabetic on a social media post would get you swamped with hate speech, maybe even death threats and doxxing. That’s pretty much how trans folk are being treated lately. Go ahead and read the political diaries about that, so long as you’ve the stomach for it. But I also want to tell you a HUGE secret. One you don’t hear about too often in the Transgender Narrative of struggle over obstacles. I’m transgender, I’m happy, and I’m not alone. I won’t diminish the societal problems I just cited, but in terms of our daily lives, I rarely meet or correspond with a trans person who regrets coming out, or regrets transitioning. And I know a bunch these days. There’s an old bogus study that claims an absurd 80% detransition rate by equating gender non-conformity with being transgender. Like a lot of “studies” the bigots trot out, that “statistic” gets amplified in an echo chamber of self reference. The reality is that only 8% or less of all those who start transition regret it and that number is inflated by the fact that most who detransition do it in response to discrimination and abuse. “Look, we harass transgender people until they’re unhappy!” isn’t exactly proof that *being* transgender makes for unhappiness. But for me, the distant sound of cannons in our war for equality is usually just that. I help fundraise, I volunteer, but in my day to day life, bigotry really doesn’t touch me too much. I’ve chosen to surround myself with friends and family who, if they don’t always understand, at least are accepting and put love before anything else. That’s another thing about coming out— you discover who your real supporters are. Really quickly. I freely admit that I am blessed. My mother and sister pretty much immediately accepted me as the daughter/sister they never had— or rather had, but never knew about. When I told my mother, she was quiet for a while, then told me she loved her child, regardless of whether I was a boy or girl. We then had a long chat and she asked me to take her grandmother’s name for my middle name, as she was raised by her. I did, so Mom got to name me twice. I’d discover later on that she drove to a friend’s house and they killed three bottles of wine between the two of them. She’d lost her only son, after all. But to my face, she was nothing but supportive. I tried to thank her for that on my last visit. “But of course I support you,” she said. “You’re my child.” ”Aw,” I said, holding back tears, not very well (estrogen, what can I say?) ”Besides, you’re turning out gorgeous.” ”You can call me pretty any...wait a minute,” I said. “Are you saying you wouldn’t support me if I was ugly?” ”I’ve got my standards.” Mom was being silly. Truth to be told, in the early days I looked like a guy in makeup. I generally went for a metrosexual look, but that’s still enough to get assaulted in some areas. And these days, well, I look pretty much like any other middle aged woman. One of my flight attendants asked me the usual “What is it like for you?” question. I explained that for my entire life, I wanted to look into the mirror and see a woman looking back at me. “And now?” she asked. “I want to see a thinner woman looking back at me.” “Yeah, you’re a woman, all right.” Rereading my old diaries, I see so much fear coupled with hope. It’s hard to remember the tumult of emotions I felt back then. Because, again, my life is so...well, normal. But so much more has changed than just the fact I the check out lady at the grocery store calls me “ma’am” now. When I came out in March of 2021, I thought I might lose everything. Like a lot of trans folk, my coming out was less some slow dawning awareness (heck, I’d known since age 6) than an act of desperation. It was either come out as transgender or slide into a dark place where there was little chance of return. I thought I might lose my job. I thought that friends would become distant. I was certain my fiancee would leave me. The exact opposite of all those things happened. My now partner and I did break up, and I think that’s where I’d left my last diary. But a few months later, I came home from a flight to a vase of flowers, a ring and a question. I said yes. So long ago, I didn’t paint my nails yet because I was closeted at work. But I did wear the ring! So, yes. Things went pretty well. I’m not going to pretend we haven’t had our ups and downs. We broke up a couple of times over the obvious. But love is love, and as she has said more than once “I fell in love with a person, not a gender”. You might notice I’m skipping the usual “before and after” pictures. Glow ups seem to be such a huge part of transgender culture. I suspect a large reason is the fact popular culture depicts us as comical. Transgender women in particular are depicted as ugly men in dresses with deep voices, so it’s natural that trans girls will push back at that with glamorous selfies, often contrasting with the sour looking disheveled man that they once looked like. Personally, though, I think that puts far too much emphasis on appearance. My vanity will say that I’m told I make a fairly attractive woman these days and no one knows I’m transgender aside from those who knew me before and close friends. But part of what we call “passing privilege” means that I have to be reticent about putting my pictures of myself up on line. At my new job at an international carrier, no one thinks of me as anything other than just another woman pilot— which comes with enough challenges of its own! I prefer to keep it that way. Don’t know if I’ll diary any more after this. But if you’re closeted right now, or know someone who is afraid to step out into their authentic life, all I want to say to you is— It Gets Better. Don’t let fear stop you from being you. we doctors know a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell of a good universe next door; let's go --E. E. 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