Finally Dana

On Wednesday the 15th, I was excited to join the all-district BLT (building leadership team) meeting. By the end of the day, I was barely holding it together and frequently excusing myself in order to try and center myself. I have taken several days to reflect, think about the why, and consider what I might do differently next time. 

What was it about my day, unrelated to work, that may have affected my actions and reactions? The number one issue was my voice. Over the course of my transition, I have undergone corrective surgeries that helped alleviate some of my crippling dysphoria. The last surgery I underwent (on June 1st) was one that I had attempted to avoid. The surgery is colloquially called “Voice Feminization Surgery.” I have undergone voice therapy for three years but despite my work, my voice continued to haunt me (see “It’s My Fault). Each time a colleague misgendered me or a student asked if I was trans I felt a little stab in my gut. My past writings have demonstrated my efforts toward turning visibility into advocacy, but the constant off-hand reminders of the sex I was assigned at birth were devastating. 

My frustration and depression grew with my growing dysphoria until I finally scheduled the surgery. The guilt I felt speaking to my boss was unbelievable (though she was very supportive). I was going to have to miss some work and that was almost enough for me to neglect this essential medical procedure. Not only would I miss a few days of work for the surgery and immediate recovery, but I also would be unable to speak for a month. Being silenced has made things harder for my colleagues and for myself. My guilt was compounded by a sense of shame at the nature of this surgery. I have lied about it to many colleagues and friends, claiming it was due to a cyst or other growth. Why did I do so?

The answer to why I lied about the nature of this surgery is shame. I am ashamed of the medical steps I am taking to live as myself. I am ashamed that I cannot just be centered and happy.  I assume everyone else who learned of this would judge me, would consider this surgery elective and be bitter about my choice to get it and miss work. The source of this shame is likely some internalized transphobia. Would I feel this ashamed if I had an appendectomy? 

I am completely unable to speak right now. I am an extreme extrovert who can barely communicate. I ground myself by exercising and I cannot do that either. On Wednesday I learned that I would need a revision surgery which would reset my entire healing timeline. My ability to engage in emotional labor was short to the point of being non-existent.  As I arrived at work, I looked around the room at all the wonderful, dedicated leaders in my district and I did not see another trans person. I felt such a stab of loneliness. We spoke about affinity groups for students and staff and I got caught up in my own self-pity. Would I be so ashamed of things like this surgery if I had one other person I knew would truly understand? 

I continue to cling to the hope that my visibility will mean that the next trans person does not feel alone when they come out. I hope that they will know that someone understands what they are going through and what they need. I need to find more ways to center myself and continue working to be the best employee and leader I can be. The way I acted on Wednesday were influenced by the emotional burden I was carrying and by the typical day-to-day stress incumbent upon engaging in a community different from my own. I did not do anything career-altering or exceptionally damaging, but I did express some frustration that would have been better left unsaid. In a professional environment, I cannot simply walk back actions, explain I was having a bad day and move on as I may be able to in a personal relationship. An action step I will take moving forward to will to increase tools in my toolbox that I may use to recenter and refocus. 

When I am home I socialize with a diverse and largely queer crowd. I am comfortable and those friends know what surgery I had. Every time I go to work, I have to take a deep breath, put on a face, and try to fit in with people who have not had any of my most formative experiences. I am proud to see the growth in positions intended to address equity and diversity in the workforce. I know that what I experience is something that millions of other people from minority communities have felt their entire lives. However, if you are in a position where you can influence the support available to traditionally underrepresented communities, I hope you consider your transgender colleagues. 

I will continue to use whatever voice I have, audible, in writing, or merely through example in order to advocate, explain, and open doors for other trans people.