Wish I could think of something more profound to say, but I’m so wiped out from all the last-minute fires, that my big accomplishment for the evening will be staying awake here at San Francisco International until they board at midnight.
The good side about recovering from the upcoming facial feminizations surgery — I’ll actually have some down time.
Since everyone on Facebook is doing the “10 years ago” thing, I might as well play.
2006: I was just a baby cross-dresser, still scared about going out in public into the world that she’d just started venturing out into, but feeling the irresistible need to do so. Uncertain about my gender identity. My tagline back then was “a guy who’s also the girl next door.”
Today: Well yeah… Things are just a little different. Loving myself in a way I didn’t back then (although thankfully I never felt the guilt and shame that so many of my trans sisters have had to work though). Burlesque and drag performer, transitioning to living full-time and documenting it here. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty damn public. Feeling far more at home in my body.
Last night’s Christmas dinner with the relatives was shockingly normal, and even my fundie nephew — who attends an extremely conservative Christian college, which mandates that students and staff be anti-gay/gay-trans as part of their code of conduct — came up and greeted me with a hug. And for everyone else, my first Christmas as woman — and the first time meeting me as a woman — seemed to be no big deal.
(Course it helped the my Fox News-loving uncle wasn’t there, nor my cousin, LOUD HOWARD, who usually takes over conversation and mansplains the entire evening, as well as kicking off multiple political arguments.)
Now before everyone gets teary-eyed, I’m not particularly close to any of the relatives and only see them (at most) once a year for awkward Christmas dinners.
But it was still nice. Not just trans-wise, but it was one of the more pleasant Christmases with the relatives in recent memory.
TSA info updated!
Means I can use the TSA Pre-Check line — bypassing the body scanners, which have been the source of numerous problematic #travelingwhiletrans incidents instigated by TSA agents.
Need to order a new Global Entry card, but thankfully you only need to use it when returning to the U.S. from a handful of airports.
Got my new driver’s license in the mail last night. Yay!
Up all too early today, to go to the passport walk-in office in San Francisco.
Good news: Passport application is being processed.
Bad news: They couldn’t issue the passport today.
Good new: It should be ready Thursday morning.
Bad news:
1) Yet another drive up to SF this week.
2) Now I get to spend Thursday waiting at the TSA office at SFO to get my Global Entry (equivalent to TSA Pre-Check) info changed, so I don’t get flagged at airport security checkpoints.
Good news: I should actually be able to get on the plane New Year’s Eve for the flight to Buenos Aires, where I’m having facial feminization surgery next month.
Unexpected pleasant surprise today… When I came out to my relatives a month or so ago, all of them were supportive (most more than some), but I’d not heard back from my Fox News-loving uncle.
Mom pointed out that I hadn’t ask for a response in my email, so maybe he just hadn’t gotten around to replying and/or needed time to digest things.
Got an email from him today, saying he probably wouldn’t make the family get-together in SoCal because my aunt has been ill, and by the way, “We want you to know that we support you in your new life.”
Even though my name was legally changed last week, I’d been holding off changing my name with my healthcare providers until my health insurance company changed my name in its records — otherwise you end up with billing headaches.
Got to the surgical center, which apparently is affiliated with my healthcare group, but not part of it — and my “preferred name” (i.e. my new name) didn’t get communicated to their system.
Which ended up causing a lot of (non-malicious) use of my old name and misgendering, even after I explained the situation and that legally my name was now Marla. (It didn’t help that — not being blessed by the androgyny fairy — and not being able to wear make-up or breast forms, that I’ve got fewer visual cues to remind people I’m a woman.)
I realize some of that was required, e.g. they had to make sure my patient wristband matched my name on file. Some of them tried to make an attempt. One admitting nurse apologized in advance, saying she’d do her best, but that she might slip up. Another admitting nurse put a big Post-It note, reading “Prefers to be called Marla,” on the file she handed off to the surgical team. And still the slip-ups on continued. They weren’t intentional, rather slips of the tongue, But every time, as my wise friend put it, every time it was a bee sting to the heart.
Honestly, I pretty much expected it. I’ve had this sort of thing happen every time I’ve been presenting as a woman and had to show official documentation with my male name on it — airports, car rental counters, hotels etc. Embrace the suck. But it could’ve been handled much more gracefully, e.g. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but could you state your male name.”
Coincidentally, my primary care physical is on a task force to make my healthcare group’s patient record system more trans friendly, so I just messaged him a heads-up about what happened. Not looking for apologies, just changes to make it easier for the next trans person.
Second day at work was shockingly normal.
Got a number of knowing smiles, and at least one person congratulated me and asked if I was having “the surgery,”* to which I gently replied that whatever surgery I was having wasn’t anyone else’s business.
(My FAQ did touch on this, but obviously most in the office didn’t get the email it was attached to. I also printed a stack and put it on my desk, but it doesn’t look like many, or any, have been taken so far.)
But otherwise…
* In my announcement email, I mentioned that I will be taking time off for renovations.
At least things are slowing down to Tetris level 750.
Got the flight to Buenos Aires booked (fortunately they didn’t ask for passport info the time of booking), driver’s license change on Friday, appointment set up with the passport office on the 20th to get that changed.
Getting ready for the second day at school — which should be the more interesting one. (I wasn’t actually in the office that much on Friday, between a late start, having to have spend a good chunk of time with IT getting my name changed in various systems, and leaving earlier for the DMV appointment.)
Showtime ladies, tits and teeth!
After the craziness of the week, I’ve finally had a moment to breath, and it hit me — I’m coming home.
I’m coming home to a country I wasn’t born to. A country that I looked upon from afar for many, all too many, years. A country that I finally worked up the nerve to visit. A country that I eventually became a sojourner in, my status conditional and provisional. No longer. I may still be an immigrant, not completely versed in the ways of the new world I inhabit. But I’m coming home. I’m coming home.