How
do you tell people you’ve
been working with for almost
20 years that you’re going to change your gender; that you’re
going to use a new name, speak with
a new voice, dress and behave
differently; and that the old you will
be gone forever?
That
was the challenge I faced last year
when I made my transition at work from
male to
female.
A
couple of people in the office had
wondered why I had both ears pierced,
not just one,
the way most men do it. Other than
that, no one
saw it coming.
I’d
been an editor with Knight Ridder
Tribune news graphics in Washington
since 1986.
A straight white man. Married
15 years, divorced.
Liked women, never had children.
Brainy and scientific,
but with an off-beat artistic
side. Six feet
tall, nice baritone voice. Liked
fishing. Not macho — just a guy.
Then
in March, 2003, I took a week’s vacation.
On Monday, everyone received e-mails
from
the company and from me, saying
that I was making
some big changes. When I returned
to work
the following Monday, it was
going to be as a
woman.
Most
people’s reaction: “Wow! Who knew?”
I
tried to explain in my e-mail why
I needed to live as a woman. I said
that some people are
like
this — transgender — and
hold it inside for years,
keeping it from even those
closest to them.
I
was taking this step, I said, to
resolve an agonizing contradiction
between my fundamental
self-image and the false
gender role I had tried
to live for all those
years.
I
asked my friends for their help and patience.
Their old
friend Mac was now
gone forever, as
if he’d gone on a trip and
died, and they had
not been able to
tell him goodbye.
In
its e-mail, Knight Ridder’s management made it clear
that
the company was standing
behind me. A psychologist
would
come to the office
while I was gone
to explain the
transgender
experience, answer
people’s questions and help them express
their
reaction to this
outlandish news.
The
managers explained how my transition
would work.
About 70 people
work at the Knight
Ridder Tribune, and another
50 in the Knight
Ridder Washington
Bureau. There
are two
women’s rooms. I would use one, but
not the other.
Knight Ridder would make sure
I could work
without interference. The people I
work with would
be treated respectfully
and, patiently,
considering
how hard this situation
can be to understand.
From
what I’ve been told, my friends were
shaken to hear this
news about one
of their family
but inspired
by
what I was undertaking.
They wanted
to do the
right thing,
not hurt my
feelings or embarrass
me.
During the meeting, it was clear how genuinely the people in our office care for each other and how Knight Ridder had done a breathtakingly right thing. The consultant said later that he had never seen a company and its people rise so well to the challenge of an employee ’s gender transition.
The
one-week preparatory
period
was a good
idea. It
gave
people time to adjust
to
the whole
strange
concept
before it was facing
them
in the
flesh.
During
that
week, our human
resources
and
office
manager,
Mary
Brenner, contacted me
at
home.
Several
people
wanted to see a photo
of
Helen,
so
they
would know what to
expect.
I emailed
her
a
picture of me, smiling broadly,
and
walking
my
dogs
on a sunny winter
morning.
Most
people’s reactions: “Looks
pretty normal — and happy.”
That’s
how I felt. My first day back in the
office was the most memorable day
of my
life and
the first
day of the most wonderful
year of
my life.
My
transition at work would
not have gone
as
well if I had not been
ready. I
understood clearly
who
I am, what I am, what I want
to
do. I was
confident
and in
no danger of having
my feelings hurt by someone’s
innocent
remark — using
my male name or
referring to“ guys like you.”
Even
more important, my colleagues
were ready to broaden
their experience
with something totally
unfamiliar. And I’m
deeply grateful
that my company knew that
its best interest lay in
having
its people live truthfully
and authentically — however
unusual
their choices
might seem at first.
