When Seasons of Life Collide

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When I initially started HRT, my doctor at the time had me on one medication that required a weekly injection and one that required a monthly injection.  I did not do well self-injecting (and later on was advised that doing such a thing is dangerous for someone who lives alone like me).  For about 18 months, I was able to find people willing to help me with the injections.  But when I was down to one person, I realized that it was not feasible as a permanent solution.

So I researched online and found that there was a patch alternative to the weekly shot.  And that was acceptable to me (although I have since switched to a daily gel as far easier and more convenient).  But for the monthly injection, the only alternative was a pill.  And for certain medications, pills are the least safe alternative.  After we discussed it a bit, my doctor declared that I really didn’t need that medication anyway.  After all, he said I was basically a “post-menopausal woman.”  It’s a real hoot going through puberty and menopause at the same time.  But I have to say that my body has responded well.

Recently, I considered rejoining Classmates.  I left that website when I transitioned, at the time still expecting to go stealth.  (Wow, was I wrong!)  But finding the listing rather inflexible for anyone who changed first name since high school graduation (as almost any transgender would have done, but many cisgender people as well), I decided to pass for now.  Under their setup, the emphasis would have been on my old name and my new first name would be an afterthought.  Since I also changed my last name, it could be confusing.

What that exercise did was stir up a desire to look up some of my old classmates in high school, even some who switched to other schools before graduating.  The recent death of one of those who graduated from another high school also added to that desire.  My high school graduating class had thirty students.  (It also happens to be the largest graduating class in the history of the school.)  As far as I have been able to find, at least five of those thirty have died.

So I went to Google to search for my classmates.  I found some on LinkedIn, some on Facebook (at least their public pages; I do not have a Facebook account).  Others showed up in news stories or have their images on the web.  I learned of one death through my searching.

My classmates from the little prep school, at least the ones I could find, became doctors, entrepreneurs, accountants, community activists and public officials.  They have been through marriages and divorces, raised children and sent them to college and some are seeing grandchildren come into the world.  They range from England to San Francisco and Florida to the Canadian border.  I only know of one other classmate who stayed in the county where the school is located (another who stayed in the local area died two years ago).  While some moved back to New York City from the nearby suburbs where we lived and went to school, part of the urbanization trend at the time perhaps, the rest have been quite scattered.

At this time, I am not in contact with anyone from my graduation class, although I am still in contact with one person with whom I went to school in grades 6-8.  Without Classmates, I do not know how I will make contact with the rest.  I also do not know how interested any of them will be in renewing an acquaintance.

What I am feeling the strongest is that a number of my classmates have made their mark in life and most are wrapping up stages of their life, even though they still may be active.  For me, echoing my doctor’s remark about puberty and menopause, I am simultaneously wrapping up a life and starting one.

Twenty-eight of us graduated from Rockland Country Day School on a drizzly June day in 1970 in a nearby church because the weather prevented an outdoor ceremony on school grounds.  (Two girls spent their senior year of high school as college freshmen and didn’t walk with our class.)  Then most of us went off to college like any group of young people: excited, scared, hopeful, ready to take on the world, and searching.  The boys still had to worry about being drafted and going to Vietnam.  (One of our younger teachers fled to Canada to avoid the draft during our time at the school.)  Some protested.  Some struggled with drugs.  One lied to his mother about applying to college and found his niche as a commercial fisherman, eventually becoming the captain of his own boat.  One died in a heroic attempt to protect someone else.  Many of us ended up with lives much different than we expected when we ventured out of that church some 45 years ago.

I cannot say that my life is more different than anyone else in my class.  But it is surely different from my high school and college days.  After getting very good grades (especially on the standardized exams) and lettering in four sports in high school, I went to Cornell as an engineering major wanting to become an urban planner: designing rail systems and roads.  I ended up majoring in political science, a degree I promptly shelved in 1974 and never went back to.  I tried for careers in publicity, public relations, sports writing (co-authored one book, but couldn’t build on that) and advertising.  To pay the bills, for a couple of years I settled for government jobs in public housing.  Chafing in that climate, I took the risk of working for commissions instead of a salary in the brokerage business.  Over time, I added hats in real estate, insurance, financial planning and tax preparation.

In my personal life, I was married for less than a year.  I never had a long-term relationship and never initiated any relationships.  I was torn between a need for privacy and a need to be loved for who I am.  There were times when the lack of companionship hurt.  But now that I see what so many others in the TG community go through with their families, I am grateful that I am single and without children.

I drifted away from organized religion while in college.  But in my late twenties I returned and within ten years became active in church leadership and in a worldwide Christian missionary organization.

By the time I reached my mid-fifties, it looked like my life was settled.  I said a final good-bye to both of my parents.  I was respected in my church and moving up the ranks in the missionary organization.  I jettisoned everything from my financial services business except tax preparation, blessed by a group of wonderful, loyal clients.  With the extra time and some inheritance money, I began to travel for the first time in twenty years.  I have been blessed by extraordinarily good health.  I was content.  Until …

My supervisor at HUD would say that you have to watch out for the quiet ones.  Still waters run deep and dark.  And deep beneath my surface there was a different name, a name hidden in my heart during my time at RCDS and Cornell but shared with no one.  That is my legal name now (with a middle name eventually added).  And the gender marker on my driver’s license has changed from M to F.

Certain I would spend the second half of my life in a quiet, plain vanilla way, I have found myself doing quite the opposite.  When I least expected it to rear its beautiful head, I reached the point where I could no longer live a lie.  (I could write a book expanding on that one sentence.  And I hope to do so.)  Even after I went full-time nearly three years ago, I thought I would stay in the background: grateful for each client who stayed with me; attending support group meetings and an occasional social function; finding a new church that would accept me and hopefully a new place to do ministry.

But I could not stay silent.  Even before Laverne Cox and Transparent and Caitlyn Jenner began to splash across the headlines, I knew I needed to find a way to do more.  Crying out to me was the blood of transgender people who were murdered or who committed suicide because they were bullied, rejected by family, disparaged by their religious community or denied the opportunity to transition.  The indignity of those who were buried by family members using their rejected name and laid out in the wrong gender cried out to me.  Anti-transgender doctrine by many major religious groups cried out to me.  Legal and societal pervasive anti-transgender discrimination in employment, housing and medical care (to name just a few) cried out to me.  The plight of runaway and throwaway transgender teens cried out to me.  If I remain silent, then shame on me for ignoring those plaintive cries.

Once again, I am venturing forth excited, scared, hopeful, ready to take on the world, and searching.  But you can add urgent to that list.  I am not heading off to college this time.  I am in my early sixties, not in my late teens.  Then I appeared to be a quite ordinary white suburban middle-class male, hoping to find upward mobility through education.  Now I am a white female member of a marginalized group, hoping to help open doors of social justice while establishing reconciliation and common ground with the Christian community.

While I hoped against hope to transition to female, until I was 59 years old, I never thought there was a chance of me doing so.  In fact, all the evidence was to the contrary.  And it is at least as big a surprise that I am a budding activist.  Yet here I am, despite or perhaps because of my shy, conservative, college sports team manager and calculator keys background.  But I also have a background in writing, editing, publicity, public speaking and political science.

Ready or not, here I am.  There are no retirement plans in the Bible.  Who will find me?  Who will I find?  One person can make a difference.  Together we can make a bigger difference.

I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for his name’s sake. I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome the wicked one. I write unto you, little children, because ye have known the Father. I have written unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one. – 1^st John 2:12-14

God bless,

Lois

The Desirable Body

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actor, actress, All That Glitters, athletics, baseball, Billy Crystal, Caitlyn Jenner, coming out, Dallas, female body, female to male, first transgender TV series character, God, Gold Glove, Jeffrey Tambor, Jodie Dallas, Laverne Cox, Linda Gray, macho, male body, male-oriented, MTF transsexual, National League, Norman Lear, overcompensation, physique, Plan A, Soap, star athlete, Time Magazine, Transgender, Transgender Tipping Point, Transparent, TV Series, wealth, Wes Parker

Suddenly transgender is all over the television dial.  “Transparent” has won awards.  Laverne Cox of “Orange is the New Black” was propelled to the cover of Time Magazine which declared that we had reached “The Transgender Tipping Point”.  And following close on the heels of those shows are a number of reality TV offerings including celebrities Jazz Jennings and Caitlyn Jenner.  Finally, first-hand transgender point of view is sought on interview shows.

Of those I mentioned, only Jeffrey Tambor in “Transparent” is not actually transgender.  He is only an actor playing a role.  And we know that he isn’t the first actor or actress in a television series to play a transgender character.  But who was?

Billy Crystal as Jodie Dallas in “Soap” would be a good guess.  But while Jodie cross-dressed at times, he was considered gay, not transgender.  Anyway, there was someone a little bit earlier than the beginning of “Soap”.  And there would be an interesting connection.

I stumbled upon the information quite by accident.  I was having an e-mail discussion with a friend about baseball in general.  We were discussing my favorite team, the Dodgers, and two topics in particular: the number of good bunters on their World Series teams in the 1960’s and Hollywood’s penchant for tabbing these handsome, athletic young men for cameo roles, either as themselves or to provide eye candy for women viewers.  One man in particular fit both lists: Wes Parker.

I looked up Parker’s screen roles on IMDB.  Most of his television credits are the one-offs that I mentioned.  There was one exception.  He appeared on a show that was way ahead of its time.  Many might consider it outlandish even now.

Wes Parker is an example of a great looking Dodger player who was snatched up by Hollywood during his career and was able to continue to get roles afterwards.  For his first credited role as an actor on large or small screen, he played himself on an episode of the “Brady Bunch”.  According to his IMDB profile, he eventually would appear as an actor on 8 television series, two TV movies (one uncredited), one movie and two voice acting jobs on video games. Other than “All That Glitters”, he only appeared twice on two TV shows, “Police Woman” and “Police Story”.

“All That Glitters” was originally released in a soap opera format on a local Los Angeles syndicated television station with Norman Lear hoping to duplicate his success with “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman”.  It ran five nights a week for 13 weeks from April 18 to July 15, 1977 (a few months before “Soap’s” premiere in September).  It is also the one that debuted the first transgender character in a TV series.

The show portrayed the world (and of course America in particular) as if women were the dominant gender throughout history.  Yes, it was women who still gave birth, but they were also the movers and shakers in industry and politics.  Men stayed home to take care of the house and children, or worked as secretaries and wait staff to try to attract spouses.  The show started with good ratings, but they rapidly declined and the show was cancelled once the 65 episodes in the can had aired.

Parker was not the first transgender character.  He played one of the young, attractive trophy husbands.  No the distinction of being the first transgender character in a regular TV series goes to none other than Linda Gray, much better known as Sue Ellen Ewing on both incarnations of “Dallas”.  The irony is that the show matched the last name of Billy Crystal’s character on “Soap”.

Gray played an MTF transsexual model.  Lear personally cast her in the role, perhaps because of her square jaw line.

In fact, it was in April of the following year that “Dallas” made its television debut.  In retrospect, it was good fortune for Gray that “All That Glitters” flopped.  It made her available when casting for “Dallas” commenced.

While the story about the first transgender character on a television series is interesting trivia, the focus of this post is Wes Parker.  He symbolized something significant to me when I was in my late teens and early twenties.  And I see parallels between his life and mine as I review both of them.

Of course I rooted for Parker because he played for the Dodgers during his entire 9 year major league career, appearing in at least 100 games each year. He was talented enough to make the major leagues on the defending World Champions after only one minor league season, jumping over Class AA and AAA levels in the process.  Many knowledgeable baseball observers felt that Parker was not only the best defensive first baseman in the league, he was also the best defensive centerfielder.  He was the National League Gold Glove first baseman for his last 6 seasons as a player.  He was named to baseball’s all-time Gold Glove team in 2007.  He is the only player (other than Ken Griffey, Jr. who won’t be eligible until next year) to not be in the baseball Hall of Fame.

He was also considered by many to be one of the best bunters to have played the game.  He led the NL in sacrifice hits during his first year as a regular in 1965.

Parker was frustrating to me as a fan because you knew he had more talent than his numbers demonstrated.  He admitted at the end of his career that because he came from a wealthy family, he wasn’t hungry as a player and didn’t live up to his potential.  Before the 1970 season, he decided that he was going to work hard to prepare himself for the season, work hard in spring training and work hard throughout the season.   He wanted to see what he might have been capable of during his career. As a result, his numbers were far and away better than any other season.

But he couldn’t put himself through the extra work ever again.  He played two more seasons at his usual reduced offensive output and then deliberately retired after nine seasons so no one would be able to waste an HOF ballot on him.

While Parker was frustrating on a fan level, on a human level I can see our similarities.  Outside interests and forces led us to underperform in life, sabotage what could have been greatness and settle for mediocrity and only brief flashes of excellence.

But Parker also meant something to be in terms of physique.  He was 6’1″ and 180 pounds during his playing career.  In fact, based on pictures of him when he was in his late 60’s, only his wrinkles let you know he was past his prime. Otherwise, he still looked like he was in playing condition.

During part of my childhood, I prayed that I would wake up with a girl’s body.  By the time I reached my late teens, I gave up on those prayers.  Furthermore, it became quite obvious that I was never going to become very big physically.  I actually got mad at God and told Him, “If you were going to give me a male body, couldn’t you at least have given me a good male body?  I don’t have to be huge.”  It was Wes Parker’s physique that I held up as an example.  I felt I could be a star athlete with that body.  (For the record, now that I have shrunk slightly, I am within a millimeter of the average U.S. woman’s height and 45-50 pounds less than the average weight.)

In other words, if God had caved to my demands (as if!), I might have been the Caitlyn Jenner of my time.  However, I probably would have done it in baseball.  Power was the main thing I lacked in baseball.  I already knew most of the fundamentals.  I could throw for distance and I was quick enough to have developed into a pretty good goalie in ice hockey.  I threw out base stealers in the only game I caught in high school and I threw out a runner at the plate from the outfield.  I even hit over .500 my senior year, but they were all singles.

But yes, I am basically satisfied with my body now, with one major exception.  (Is there anyone, transgender or cisgender who is totally satisfied?  I will let you guess what my major exception is.)  It just would be really nice to have the wealth of a star athlete.  I would have been coming into the prime of my baseball career just as free agency was part of the game.  A great centerfielder was the one thing the Dodgers lacked for their great years in the mid-1970’s to mid-1980’s.  I would have been quite a thrill to have followed in the footsteps of Duke Snider, my first baseball hero.  But being a star at any position for any team would have been fabulous.

But that wasn’t part of God’s plan for me.  And it still remains to be seen how that plan will work out in the end.  I can only say that God only has a Plan A.  He doesn’t need a Plan B.  He is not an “oops” God.

I still have a question nagging at me, but about male athletes, not about me.  We are beginning to see how many male to female transsexuals gravitate to male-oriented and macho professions or interests: Navy Seals and Marines and many other soldiers; police officers and firefighters; intelligence service agents; airline pilots; bodybuilders; mountain climbers.  In that light, the surprise is not Caitlyn Jenner.  The surprise is why not more?  Is the macho code that much stronger for ex-athletes than it is for those in the military, police or fire fighting?  Is the quality athlete pool that much smaller?  Just like Linda Gray was the first actress to portray a transgender character on a television series and now there have been quite a few, is Jenner just the tip of the iceberg in the world of athletics?  Who’s next?  And will we also see some female to male athletes coming out?

Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? – Matthew 6:27

God bless,

Lois