Hello, and welcome to episode 28 of The Spectrum. This was recorded on September 1, 2025.

Today’s episode is part 2 of a a three part series. 

This is the life story of a transgender woman we are going to call Emma. She wanted to share her story but also wanted to remain anonymous to protect her and her family.

To protect her identity, we’ve digitally altered her voice and appearance but the words and inflection and emotion you will experience are entirely hers.

This first part covers the period through her transition.

In our conversation about this episode, Emma said that the medical standards of care that she experienced have evolved over time so the requirements and labels that were used at the time are no longer always in use.

With that, let’s turn it over to Emma:

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It took time to find the right people and I almost stopped before I got started because of the difficulty in finding the right help. I had read that a local hospital had a gender identity clinic and I decided to look for them in the phone book. I couldn’t find a listing but I did see an entry for a “GI clinic.” In my single mindedness, I thought that had to be it. I called and made an appointment without even saying what for. I really had no idea of what to expect. I took the afternoon off from work. Something seemed off as soon as I walked in the door. When I was shown back to an examining room and I saw posters of digestive tracts on the walls, I realized what an idiot I had been. I was ready to bolt. When the doctor, a pleasant young man came in, and asked me what the problem was, I just said, “I’m in the wrong place.” He patiently tried to get me to talk to him and I became more agitated, wanting to be anywhere else. Eventually, he got me to tell him that the reason I was in the wrong place was that I was looking for the gender identity clinic. He said something like, “Oh! You need to see the urologist.” I was so desperate to be somewhere else that I took the appointment and ran.

Two weeks later, I was back in the same place and still feeling like I was not where I needed to be. The urologist came in and it was a young woman. I wasn’t quite as panicky this time and told her I was pretty sure I was in the wrong place and what I was looking for. She was very sympathetic and more importantly very helpful. She connected me with the right people.

About a month later, I attended this introductory meeting. That got me a therapist. It wasn’t long before I could laugh at what had happened though at the time I wanted to hide under a rock. But, I had managed to get where I needed to be and I realized that I needed to be able to find humor where I could find it. If I couldn’t laugh at myself, how was I going to survive difficult situations in the future?

I went to see my therapist. For the first time in my life, I spoke clearly about what I was feeling. At that first meeting, I looked like any guy that might have walked in off the street, but even so, for the first time in my life I felt like someone was starting to see who I really was.

My therapist pointed me at a local support group run by a transgender woman.  I wanted to go, but I was a bit scared. I didn’t know what was going to be happening in my future. Maybe I’d find this wasn’t the right path for me. What if someone recognized me and spread gossip? Then I realized the odds of that happening were next to zero and I went. I was wearing a jacket that came from a club I belonged to. It was a small club that had maybe 20-30 people. I didn’t think anything of it. When I walked in the door, a woman saw the jacket and asked if I knew another club member. Inside, I cringed, figuring that I was now going to be outed. But, I needn’t have worried. Of course, she didn’t out me.

For the first time in my life I saw real people dealing with the same thing I was, not the sensational nonsense that was shown on television. For the first time I met people who showed me it was possible to be successful. I also saw people who were struggling and in real pain. I tried to learn what could help me succeed and what could help me avoid problems. 

When I talked to my therapist, I expressed my fears that I would not be a good physical candidate. She cocked her head to the side and gave me this appraising look and said she thought I’d be fine if that was the path I decided to pursue.

I was ready to race ahead but she wasn’t going to refer me to an endocrinologist for hormones until she was sure that I was in a good place emotionally. That was disappointing to hear. I’d spent so long trying to avoid this path and I was now ready to move forward but I understood where she was coming from and forced myself to be patient.

Now I had some decisions to make. If I was going to explore whether this was the right path for me, I was going to have to tell at least some people. I started with a friend from college. We lived in different cities now but we had remained in touch. He was a gay man and he seemed like the safest person to tell first.

It was a hard conversation. We talked for hours. But, in the end, he was my friend and he was supportive. It gave me the courage to tell others. The next person was a local friend. He was part of the club that I mentioned earlier and he and his wife had become friends. I had been dropping hints that I might not be able to participate in the club in the not too distant future. I had been vague but serious enough that he and his wife were worried that I was ill. I had no idea of what to expect from the conversation but he was accepting and even opened up to me about some of the challenges he faced in his own life. I began to have hope. He and his wife were incredibly supportive over the next few years and they wouldn’t let me hide from myself. They were a big part of helping me stay grounded.

I next told my oldest sister. Her reaction was concern and love and fear for me. I told her I was going to be telling our mother soon and I wanted mom to have someone to talk to.

Next I had to tell my mother. My parents were divorced so conversations with them were going to have to be separate. I knew my mother was going to be emotional but I felt sure that in the end she would be there for me. But, by this point, I’d had enough conversations with people in the support group to know that I was risking losing people in my life. That I was willing to take the chance of losing everyone in my life — and I knew people this had happened to — shows how serious an issue this was for me. This wasn’t a whim. It felt like survival.

The conversation with my mother was hard and emotional and we both cried. She wondered what she had done to cause this. I tried to explain that she hadn’t done anything, that nobody knew why this happened to some people but that it wasn’t her fault. I’m not sure she ever truly believed that but in the end, she was there of me. 

It took me time to understand that she was grieving for the son she felt like she was losing even though for me it felt like she should be celebrating the daughter she never knew she had. I think that’s one of the hardest tings for people to understand. It took me time to understand her grief and it took her time to understand my truth, especially since I had done such a good job of hiding it for so many years.

I told my mother that I didn’t know what was going to happen. I thought I was heading down a path that was going to lead to surgery but I did’t know for sure. I needed to find out what was right for me and that I was open to whatever that answer was. My only rule was that if it felt right then it was ok and if it didn’t feel right then it wasn’t ok. I promised her and myself that I was going to be as honest with myself as I could possibly be and that I was going to listen to those who cared about me and take their counsel seriously.

I’m pretty sure I told my mother and sister they could talk to other family members if they wanted to. I was probably trying to avoid having the same difficult conversation over and over. They, of course, didn’t want to, but they were struggling with what I said enough that others could see it and so it came out.

The one person I didn’t tell was my next oldest sister. She lived in another state and had become an evangelical Christian, married to a preacher. I hadn’t seen her in about three years. I knew she wouldn’t be supportive and so I never talked to her. I think our mother told her. We were never close. I never let anyone get close back then. And, she’s never been accepting but, truthfully, she has distanced herself from the entire family, not just me. She’s only been back four times in the last 30 years, each time for a funeral so I don’t really feel singled out. Still, I never gave her a chance to be anything other than what I expected so I can’t be surprised about what happened.

I began getting electrolysis to remove facial hair. This was a slow, painful and expensive process. It probably tested my resolve more than anything. I started going once a week but progress was slow and eventually I started going three times a week. My eyes would sometimes tear from the pain. But, I was starting to see progress.

I tentatively started presenting myself to the world as a woman. To say that I was terrified would be an understatement. My first attempt was to go to a convenience store and buy a half gallon of milk. I didn’t speak but only smiled and nodded or shook my head. Nobody paid the slightest bit of attention to me.

The married couple I mentioned earlier convinced me to go with them to one of the outlet stores that was a couple of hours away to get some new clothes. I was nervous about presenting myself to them but when I arrived, I was greeted with, “Wow, you look like a business woman.” It made me feel safe.

We got to the outlets and we wandered around, each of us looking for what we wanted. We weren’t together for most of it. At one point, I was browsing through a clothes rack when an older woman who was nearby turned to me, holding up some article of clothing. I don’t remember what it was. She said, “My daughter is about your height. Do you think this would fit her?”

Inside, I was thinking, “I’m not even sure what size I am! How would I know?!” But I stammered out an, “I think so” – I hope I was right. I wasn’t confident about being around people at all yet much less speaking with them, but her casual acceptance of me was a big boost. Maybe my therapist was right and I would be ok!

This was the start of my “nights and weekends” period. I presented myself to the world one way during the day and another way at night. What did this tell me? It felt amazing to have to world see me the way I saw myself. That was a major “right” feeling that told me it was time to take the next step.

I practiced speaking at home with a tape recorder. I would record myself reading books and then listen. My biggest fear about passing at this point was my voice. It was a problem area for so many transgender women. It was a slow process. At the time there was nobody doing speech therapy for transgender people or at least if there were, I didn’t know about it. But, eventually, I found a way to speak that worked and let me speak above a whisper and didn’t strain my voice. The telephone was the biggest test. People didn’t have any visual clues and only had your voice to go by. I would start conversations by introducing myself by name if I made the call as a way to set expectations but eventually that was no longer necessary. But, that was a few years down the road. It wasn’t a fast process for me.

That next step was to start what was called “life test” at the time. To be a candidate for surgery, one had to live full-time in the role for at least a year. But, to do that I had to tell my employer. I knew there was a very real chance I would lose my job. That led me to talking to a former  employer with whom I was on good terms. I told him what was happening with me and said I might soon lose my job and if I did, would he have any contract work for me? He said that if he had work and I needed it then it was mine. It wasn’t certain – it depended on whether he had the work available but it gave me the safety net I needed to talk to my employer.

I talked to my boss and then his boss and then the head of the HR department and to my surprise I wasn’t fired. I’m not going to pretend it was completely smooth sailing either. But, before I get to that I need to talk about my father.

I had delayed talking to him until I knew more with more certainty what was going to happen. I talked to him once I had decided that life test was coming and his first reaction was good. Great, even. He said that he didn’t understand but that I was his child and that was all that mattered. That changed when I later told him when I was  going to be starting life test. At that point, he decided he couldn’t handle it and that we shouldn’t see each other. Well, really, he decided he didn’t want to be around me. We only saw each other four times over the next 15 years and he was on his deathbed the last time. I now realize I should have talked to him earlier. I expected him to take in all this information and process it and be ok with in a matter of a couple of months. That wasn’t fair to him. At the time, I thought I was sparing him the pain of having to worry about something that might not happen. Maybe I was just hiding from a hard conversation. I know that if I had it to do over again, I’d have told him earlier. We did have some reconciliation before he died but it was probably his illness that made it possible. I’m not putting all the blame on him. I didn’t give hime a chance to come to terms with events before forcing him to confront them. It wasn’t fair to him. I’m not excusing his actions but I didn’t help the situation either.

Getting back to the job situation…my employer and I worked out what was going to happen. I decided that I was going to take a week off between leaving and coming back just to put some distance between the two events. 

I began talking to co-workers. I went out to lunch with a group of around eight people. We were sitting around a large round table and I told them about myself and what would be happening. I told them they could ask me whatever they wanted and that the worst that would happen is that I’d tell them I didn’t want to answer that. Nobody crossed that line though at that point in my life, I was being pretty open about everything.

I didn’t try to tell everyone. I mentioned that humor was helping me get through this. I decided to see how long it would take the rumor mill to pass the information around and have the information come back to me. It took a week, longer than I expected. Someone who worked in another department stopped by my cube and said he needed to talk to me. I gestured toward a chair and he said, “Let’s go to the conference room.” When we got there, I asked him what it was he wanted to talk about. He started in by saying there was a rumor going around the company and that he knew it couldn’t be true but that I needed to know about it. I asked him what the rumor was. He said the rumor was that I was getting a sex change. I asked him if that was it? His response was, “isn’t that enough?!”

I laughed and said that I had just wondered how much of the story had made it through the rumor mill. I said that it wasn’t certain but that it seemed likely. We talked for a while about it and his response was so characteristic of the responses I got from people. They accepted what I was saying. They didn’t really understand but they weren’t scared off either. And, they didn’t judge me.

It made me realize that people cared about me a lot more than I thought they did.

I reached the date where I left for a week. During that period, they had a company meeting about me. I was not allowed to attend. During that week off, I moved to a smaller, cheaper apartment. I was spending money at an alarming rate. None of what I was doing was covered by insurance.

My therapist gave her approval for me to start on hormone therapy and referred me to an endocrinologist.

My first day on the job, pretty much every person in the company found a reason to walk past my cube. People who were never seen in my part of the building somehow found themselves walking by that day. I continued to work there for two years and was met with acceptance and indifference and “I’m creeped out vibes” depending on who I was interacting with. I was each new employee’s first day’s gossip. I’m not going to pretend it was always perfectly smooth sailing.

Our biggest issue was, unsurprisingly, the bathroom. They insisted that I use the single-occupant handicap restroom until I had surgery. But, it was a very large building and there was only one single-person restroom. Sometimes it wasn’t convenient and I used the nearest ladies room. Someone complained. I was hauled into HR and told I had to sign a document saying I would only use the specified restroom. After surgery, I was free to use the ladies room but not until then. I refused to sign. I pointed out that anywhere else I went in the world, I used the ladies room without issue. They didn’t care. They told me that I had to use the single-person restroom or I faced getting fired. Eventually, the problem went away because our group got moved into a remodeled area of the building where there were two single-person restrooms. I don’t know that I was the reason our group was moved to this area but it seems likely. Between that and friends counseling me to not fight a battle I was not going to win, we reached this uneasy truce. I didn’t know when surgery would be but it was becoming more and more clear that it was going to be coming.

During this time I had lots of conversations with people. There was a common theme that I was hit with at the time. I’m not sure this would be true today but back then, in the the late 1980’s, when nobody knew anything about transgender people there were even more misconceptions than there are today.

The most common question I got was whether this is because I wanted to go to bed with men. My response was that it wasn’t abut sex. But, if we had to talk about in those terms it wasn’t about who I wanted to go to bed with it was about who I wanted to go to bed as. I’d figure out who it would be with later. I added that last sentence because I was trying to be open to whatever felt right. I’d spoken with transgender women who were attracted to women and some who were attracted to men and sometimes they found that attraction changed after they transitioned. I’d only ever been attracted to women but I was trying to be honest enough with myself to realize that my attraction to them might be tied up in my desire to be like them. Maybe once I wasn’t facing that internal conflict anymore, I’d find myself open to new possibilities.

There were lots of other questions. Most of them were really good questions that showed that people cared about me and what happened to me. I tried to meet that with honesty.

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This concludes part 2 of Emma’s story. We’ll have part 3 in episode 29.

Thanks to Emma for sharing her story.

If you have a story about LGBT+ life you would like to share, contact me at spectrumpodcasthost@gmail.com.

Until next time, take care.