That Transexual Guy
An Introduction to The Link’s First Trans Column
To the alarm of my parents, I am a transsexual.
I am on the female-to-male spectrum of this gender brouhaha but I have never once identified as female. I just went along with the label until I could no longer handle the mess that was my unconscious.
In January 2010, I started exploring gender, using a neutral nickname and being read more and more as male. I liked it a lot. It felt right. On July 15th 2010, I came out to myself as transsexual. On Jan. 2nd 2011, I came out to my parents. They are supportive, but are still processing what everything means. My 13-year-old brother is bewildered, but happy for me.I have lost two friends, gone through a nine-month-long depression and experienced suicidal feelings. I needed to figure out, if I had to do this, what would happen if I didn’t and what would happen if I did—those nine months were long, long months.
But this is not a sob story.
Though I have heard the tales and the hurts of trans folk and experienced the personal gender insecurity some people get upon seeing me, and though have dried the tears and ignored the stares, I am not asking for your pity. I am asking for your ears and eyes.
I want to share my transition. I want to write to you about public bathrooms, navigating my name change and taking hormones. I want to tell you about the scary parts, the fun times and share with you the celebrations that come along with transitioning. I want to tell you all of this because I think that it is important that you know about it.
I want to share my transition. I want to write to you about public bathrooms, navigating my name change and taking hormones. I want to tell you about the scary parts, the fun times and share with you the celebrations that come along with transitioning. I want to tell you all of this because I think that it is important that you know about it.
This issue is important to understand so that transsexual, transgender, and gender non-conforming folks do not have to deal with the stares, the harassment, the paranoia and the violence anymore. I want that to stop, so this is my contribution.
My name is Oliver Leon. I am 19 years old. I am studying English and Creative Writing at Concordia University, with a minor in Women’s Studies (which, by the way, could be renamed Gender Studies). I want to be a college professor when I grow up. I enjoy poetry, Harry Potter, and kayaking.
On Aug. 29th 2011, I received permission from my psychologist to start hormones in the form of a letter. This is a legal requirement for transsexual folk and this step is a large piece of red tape for many people because it requires you to go through three months of psychotherapy. How many people can afford this? Not everyone. I have a trans friend who can’t afford therapy and now has no idea what to do with this life.
My psychologist is a kind and gentle man. He didn’t seem concerned when I told him I didn’t think I was a straight guy. He did not seem worried that I came into his office wearing a hot-pink t-shirt. He has never asked me the invasive questions you get when going through the Montreal General Hospital. (The triage there will ask you questions like “Are you a top or a bottom?” and “What do you fantasize about?” I was confused, so I told them Robert Downey Jr. just to be flippant.)
Anyway, this letter says some fun things. I asked my psychologist if I could include some quotations here and he said yes.
“My client became aware, in childhood, of a persistent discomfort with his gender…
My client’s presentation is consistent with the criteria for [a] diagnosis of Transsexualism…
He meets the DSM-IV criteria for Gender Identity Disorder Adulthood…
[He] has followed the Standards of Care to date, and in my opinion, is highly likely to comply in the future.”
I trust, Dr., that you will consider Mr. Leon’s candidacy for hormone therapy…
My psychologist is a great guy. He’s complying with the rules because that’s how transsexuals get help. Sure, I could buy hormones off the street—but that could kill me. I don’t know if the needles are clean, or if the dosage is healthy. Nobody knows the long-term effects of injecting hormones into a body, because nobody has cared to study the subject.
Why? Well, transsexuals are scary. Suitable for talk shows and examinations at length in airports. Someone who wants to be a gender other than the one they were born with at birth? Oh my God, send them to a bucket-load of therapists—surely it’s just a mental thing! Notice that I have been diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder.
Really though, I’ve never been so happy to be diagnosed with a medical condition in all of my life. And I am incredibly grateful to my psychologist. I get to take testosterone, get facial hair and a deeper voice. I will lose my hips and become narrow like the other boys. I’ll get more body hair and gain muscle mass easier. This will be great. (To the dismay of my little brother, I will not grow huge muscles. I need to go the gym for that.)
And so, I am off to the endocrinologist’s office to get me some needles and testosterone. I’ll update you regularly on how my fabulous transsexy life is going. I will even give you all the little details, like if the colour red suddenly becomes brighter or if I suddenly stop understanding girls. What is a girl, anyway?
Certainly not me. Shall we find out who I am together, then? Excellent.
