That elusive balance

Last night, on my way home from my counselling practicum, I stopped by a friend's house. She is one of the women I met this summer through the project we all did, and she and I worked closely together. I've stayed in touch with many of the other women, especially thanks to Facebook, but more so this woman, who I hope is becoming a friend.

We just sat around and talked about a bunch of stuff while she was sipping tea, trying to feel better from a cold. At one point, we were talking about drinking. I can't remember what the opening was, but I mentioned that I used to have a problem before I found a way to be happy. That's pretty much how I put it. Later, we were talking about dogs, and I mentioned the sweet French Bulldog that belongs to my electrologist, which she brings to her office. I didn't identify the dog's owner.

I heard myself editing while I spoke. Later, I felt bad for having done so. This is a woman who in all probability knows I'm trans. This is someone with whom I should be able to speak openly and not have it be a big deal. But I'm still searching for the balance between always talking about it (the early days) and avoiding it entirely.

I wrote to her later to explain and to come clean. While I no longer have a desire to talk about being trans, unless someone asks, neither do I want to be editing my conversation. I don't want to pretend, and I don't want to hide. No more closets! So I explained why I had been less than candid and told her I didn't want to do that any more. And I filled in the blanks that earlier had fallen victim to the mental blue pencil.

None of the women I met last summer, including this woman, has ever asked me about gender. I have been accepted without question. I know that at least some of them know I'm trans, and yet I have been reluctant to bring up the subject in any way. I wrote to my friend that "to be honest, I love at least the illusion that no one knows. When you've thought all your life that you should have been born female, you can't help but wish you hadn't had to get there by unusual means."

I'm still struggling with that. I'm not ashamed of who and what I am. But I'm mostly proud of what I've done to overcome it. Not live with it. Not embrace it. Overcome it. I see no more to be proud of in having been born transsexual than in any other birth defect that you're not ashamed of but that you are happy to put behind you if you can.

When I'm with people I trust, however, the conversation editing has to stop. Yet it's hard to trust. Hard to trust that something won't come back on you, that you won't be made to pay for your candor, even if that payment is only to be treated differently. But I do have to trust some people. And stop thinking there's some kind of stigma in not having been born female-bodied.

I got a really great reply to my message, which made me cry a little and smile a lot. And made me grateful this Thanksgiving weekend for all the wonderful people in my life.