[Trigger Warning: Homophobia, Transphobia, Suicidal Thoughts]
“What is it
like being trans?” I’ve been asked this many times by many people. And each
time I’m kind of at a loss as to how to answer that question. How do you
explain what it’s like to be something you’ve never not been? It’d be like me
asking what it’s like to be cisgender. Cis people have never known anything
else, and it is literally impossible for either of us to know what it is like
to be the other. Sure, if you got called the wrong gender and wore the wrong
clothes a lot of the time you’d get a taste. And when I get gendered correctly
and wear the right clothes I get a taste of being cis. But beyond a taste, we
can never really know what it’s like. So, instead, I think the best way to
explain it is to simply tell my story. How did I get from growing up in a very
conservative religious church and schools to a left wing out and proud bisexual
transgender activist? That’s what this tells.
Beginnings
I was born
as Samuel Richard Birner on July 9th 1992. I was born about a month
before originally stated but beyond that I was largely a pretty normal baby.
But my first memories of gender dysphoria were a bit later when I was 5. I have
memories before then scattered about, but when I was 5 was one of the most
burnt in memories of my brain.
I waited
until everyone was in bed, and I had a plan. I couldn’t really express why but
what was in between my legs just bothered me, I hated it, I wanted it gone. I
didn’t want to be a boy. I hated being put in “boy” groups, I hated being
called a boy, I just wanted it to all go away.
So, I snuck downstairs, grabbed a
pair of kitchen shears and went into the bathroom. I knew exactly what I was
going to do with them and I prepared… and then stopped myself. I couldn’t do
it. I was a smart enough kid to realize it would, ya know, hurt like hell. But
I also couldn’t tell anyone. It was scary, and it was shameful.
It might
seem strange that I would already think it’s shameful at that age, but the
background I was in was a heavy contributor to that I believe. Many people
scoff at the term “patriarchal” but the church I grew up in was the very
definition of patriarchal. I already had much ingrained in me of what games
were “boy” games and what games were “girl” games. Girls and boys were
distinctly different and had their own roles.
Women in my
church were supposed to serve, they would serve their husbands, and they were
not allowed to vote on church matters. I’d often here about women being needed
in the home and essentially being expected to be the ones in the home. And even
at the children level, liking girl things was bad. I was a boy, I couldn’t like
girl things, I’d be laughed at!
And sure,
overall I wasn’t super feminine. I did play barbies with my cousin occasionally
to dress them but overall I was a “typical” boy (whatever that even means.) I
liked video games, I didn’t care about getting dirty, I loved Pokemon and Legos.
Obviously, girls can like these things too, but overall it was considered a “guy”
thing.
So, I wasn’t
wanting to like girly things, but I could never admit to wanting to be a girl.
I mean, look at what I would’ve thought about being a girl. Being like a girl
would be going backwards, it would be shameful! Why would anyone want to be a
girl in a situation like that? So, I had to hide it. What else could I do?
Being a girl would be bad, right?
Suppression
As time
went on in the church, my view of women and what it would be like to be female
didn’t get any better. For all of my schooling I went to schools run by the
Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod (WELS), the church I was in for a strong
majority of my life. And usually, I tried not to question anything that I was
taught in the church. It was very close to fundamentalist, but had different
end times beliefs. But, it held to the other 4 beliefs of fundamentalism. The
Bible is the inerrant Word of God, Genesis is a literal historical account (So
the earth is about 10,000 years old), Jesus was born of a virgin, and Jesus’s
death was to satisfy God’s wrath (Penal substitutionary atonement.) There are
other versions of fundamentalism, but this is the one I’m most familiar with.
My first
memory of questioning anything actually had nothing to do with my sexuality or
gender identity. I don’t remember what grade I was in but I remember exactly
what I questioned. We were discussing Genesis and there was a question I couldn’t
get out of my head. “If God knows everything, he knew what would happen when he
made Adam and Eve. So why did he make Adam and Eve in a way where they would
disobey him? Seems counterproductive…” But I couldn’t ask it, because I already
knew the answer. “God’s ways are higher, don’t question it.” And that was most
of my questions growing up in WELS, simply to be answered with “Don’t question
it.”
But in
regards to sexuality and gender identity, I never actually questioned any of
it. In fact, I was very homophobic and transphobic growing up. I thought gay
people were gross, I didn’t want to be friends with any. And I didn’t even know
what trans people were. And yet I have one distinctive memory that stuck with
me.
As much as
I pushed down the feelings, I still often felt like a girl. But there was
something said that stuck with me. Years and years ago there was Brandon Teena,
a transgender man who was born as Teena Brandon. He was the uncle of someone I
went to school with, and one time my mom saw him. At the time he still asked to
be called “Uncle Teena” instead of Brandon. I remember hearing my mom talking
about how “disturbing” and “disgusting” “she” was. Later on my mom said that “If
my daughter told me she wanted to be a man, she would no longer be my child.”
Months after my mother saw him, he was raped and murdered by two acquaintances,
and his head stone still says “Daughter, Sister, Friend.” Nothing like insult
to injury there.
Now, my mom
has since taken back that remark, but at the time, what else was I to think? I
mean, Brandon was basically me in the opposite direction. So all I could
conclude at the time was that if I followed through with these feelings, I
would lose my family. So, what choice did I have but to suppress it even
deeper?
Denial
What
happens when kids get to about middle school age? Puberty of course! And what a
time it was. When I was in 5th grade my friends talked with me about
the girls in our school that they had a crush on (Which, I went to a K-8 school
with only 40-50 students, the selection wasn’t exactly a huge variety.) So
naturally the question came up, “Who do you like, Sam?” And the truth was at
the time… no one.
I thought
something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel attraction to anyone really.
I didn’t care about looks, I didn’t care about women, or even men for that
matter! But I had to fit in. So I lied and declared that I liked one of the
girls, or at least found her attractive. But really, I didn’t care about any of
that. But I had to fit in and be “one of the guys.” Remember, being like the
girls would be shameful.
But then
eventually, puberty did hit me, and what a time it was… Now, I did start
finding women attractive, and I still do! So I thought that maybe I was finally
becoming normal, or at least whatever normal was supposed to be. Until one day
on the computer, I noticed who was on didn’t sign off (We had a shared computer
with multiple profiles.) And sometimes I liked to click “slideshow” and make
the saved pictures flash on the screen. I wonder what was on this profile (And
I won’t say who, because I have a suspicion it wasn’t their pics, and even if
it was, I wouldn’t want to risk outing anyone.)
I was faced
with… well, to be blunt, dicks. Tons of pictures of naked guys, in various
positions, various clothes or lack-there-of. But the thing that caught my
attention was that I didn’t look away. I wasn’t disgusted, I didn’t dislike it.
And really, that was scary to me. Gay people are gross! (And I had no idea what
bi was anyway.) I can’t like men! So of course, that was another aspect that I
couldn’t tell anyone.
But puberty
didn’t make things any easier. I didn’t like what was happening to my body.
Body hair, facial hair, my voice lowering, it all felt… wrong, and strange. And
it forced me to really think about my
gender identity. Why did this all make me so uncomfortable? I mean, consciously
I knew I was a “biological boy.” But puberty was the first time I really ever truly faced that fact. And that was the
most terrifying realization I had.
Catechism
By the time
I got to 7th and 8th grade it was time for Catechism
class. This was where theological topics were really starting to come up. It
was time for the real meat of the Bible, and finally I could ask real
questions. And really, at the time, this was probably one of the most involved
times I got in the church. I really truly enjoyed the class and learning about
theological topics, and for once, I actually started really thinking about my faith.
But of
course, along with this, came up discussions of sex. Now, despite our age, we
were fairly mature about it. But this hammered in again what I was taught
before. One man and one woman together, the woman serves the man. At the
forefront was discussions of women and their “place” in the church. Women were
always the ones doing the cooking and cleaning and planning, while they were
not allowed to go to voting meetings for church matters.
So further
began the path that being a girl would be shameful. I began to internalize
misogyny. There was no way I could
ever want to be a girl now, it just sounds like it’s horrible! It was shameful,
it was bad. There was one time I heard a church leader discuss how it was a bad
sign that more and more women in the US were becoming the breadwinners of the
family. It was seen as messing up the structure of family, that nothing good
could come of it! We need that traditional structure or everything falls apart!
And at the time, I ate it up.
And so, my
8th grade year I was confirmed into my WELS church, and no one knew
yet of what I was going through, because it was shameful. So, I hid it, pushed
it down, and prepared for high school.
Dorms
In my 8th
grade class there were only three of us, and all three of us went to different
high schools. For high school I was sent to Michigan Lutheran Seminary, a
dormitory school run by WELS. I vehemently opposed it, I wanted to go to the
school my best friend Bekah was going to. I would know someone already so I
wouldn’t need to worry about meeting people.
Now the
dorms themselves didn’t really bother me actually. I was ok with being away
from family (And in some ways was glad) but it was not knowing anyone, and
especially that I would be in the boys dorms. It felt wrong and uncomfortable,
as though I didn’t belong. I got along fine with roommates, that was no
problem. But it was just a feeling I couldn’t shake that it wasn’t right. I had
never heard of the term transgender, so at the time, I just assumed something
was wrong with me.
And the
feelings were only made worse by the environment of the school. There was one
day that was called “Freshman Dress-up Day.” Freshmen would be put in
ridiculous costumes by the seniors. They ranged from somewhat funny (A friend
of mine was dressed as one of the tutors), to racist (The middle-eastern
student being made to be Aladdin), to mine. My costume was a purple-pink tutu
with a bright red wig. I was dressed as a girl for the first time, and I was
shamed horribly for it.
I was
called all kinds of names throughout the day. I was called gay, and a faggot,
and a queer. I was mockingly called “Samantha” and asked about my “boyfriend.”
And I wish I could say it was because of the outfit, because that would be
marginally better. But truthfully, this came from everyone, including my
classmates, year round at school. I was a social outcast with few friends.
Now some
people think “Well why didn’t the teachers step in on things like this?” Well,
I’ll tell you why, because they sanctioned it. Students were not the only ones
who laughed at and teased me. Teachers laughed too, they made jokes about my
outfit. The first time I was dressed as a girl, and the whole school laughed.
And that night, I quietly cried myself to sleep, wondering why it had to be me
in this situation.
Girlfriends
Now, I wasn’t
a total pariah in high school, I had
friends, and very close friends. In fact, I am still good friends with most of
them. And there was one girl I was becoming fast friends with during my
Sophomore year that I slowly developed a crush on. Her name was Jenny, and we
would talk and laugh and shared similar humor. So, one day I did something I’d
never done before, I asked her out. And to my surprise, she actually said yes!
I was sweating and red, I was so embarrassed but I was ecstatic. For the
moment, it was like my struggles were gone. This was short lived however, as
she broke up with me a week later. Honestly not much more to that, as she left
after the first semester, and I haven’t spoken with her since.
But I got my
first tiny taste of a relationship. And I thought that maybe that’s how I could
get the feelings to go away. I knew I liked girls, that was never in question,
but liking guys was totally out of the question. Remember, gay people were
still very gross to me. And I was made fun of for it a lot already. So I needed
a girlfriend, and my chance came up the next year.
My Junior
year I shared a room with one of my still best friends, Willie. And it was fun
for quite a while. And then I met a girl named Meghan. She was a shy but cute
blonde freshman girl. I met her through someone else, and immediately began
talking with her a lot. And eventually I meant talking a lot. We would laugh, we would write notes, we would write in pen on
each other’s hands, and just overall we would have fun. And so, after a bit of
knowing her and hanging out with her on weekends in the dorms, I decided to ask
her out… and she said no.
But, life
moved on, and things didn’t get awkward between us. In fact, it continued to
grow! We kept talking, we would text after dorm bedtime, we would hang out on
weekends and flirt heavily. I was completely infatuated with her. I thought
that maybe she was the answer to my struggles, that all of those feelings would
go away if I was with her. So, I tried a different approach. People thought we
were dating anyway. We flirted often, and we’d even held hands before, I mean
really, who could blame them? So I said “I was thinking people think we’re
dating but… I wonder if maybe it would actually work out.” And this time she
agreed! I was ecstatic, I again had a girlfriend, I was so excited! Again, I
thought that maybe the feelings would be gone.
Now, I was
clingy, to understate it. I wanted to be around her all the time. I mean hey,
people knew we were dating, I was dating a hot skinny blonde girl, no one was
calling me gay anymore! I tried to be the best boyfriend I could be. The year
before my roommate gave me a metal heart and told me to give it to a girl I
like. So I took a blue ribbon, her favorite color, and turned it into a
necklace to give to her to get my first kiss (Which was horribly awkward by the
way.)
But the
problem was, the feelings never actually went away. I still hated being in the
boys dorms. I hated how I looked, and I hated growing facial hair. I often
caught myself imagining what I would look like in her clothes, or in girl
clothes in general. And I hated it so much. I wasn’t thinking about attraction
to guys, cause I had someone now, but the gender struggle was still there. And
so I hit a low point.
Frequently
I began going off to corners to sit, and she would come to console me. And it
would work for a time, but I never told her exactly what was bothering me. In
fact, I had suppressed it so long, I wasn’t sure even I could express what was
bothering me. But the depression grew as the relationship I was so excited for
didn’t help the feelings. I really liked her, I really did. But even that
couldn’t get rid of the feelings. And soon my depression broke it down, and after
6 months we broke up. And to add insult to injury, she immediately began dating
my roommate afterwards.
Suicide
For that
time, me and Willie hated each other (Which is funny now cause we’re amazing
friends still.) And so, I began looking for somewhere else to turn. I couldn’t
be around her or my roommate, and most of my friends didn’t live in the dorms,
so after school they were gone. So, I began going to someone else’s room, where
I noticed a guy named Zach playing the game Persona 3. (By the way Zach, if you
read this, sorry in advance for telling people about this but it’s an important
piece :P)
Now,
truthfully, I kinda hated Zach at the time. I thought he was obnoxious as all
hell, and I kinda just wanted to punch him. But his game was really interesting.
So I watched and I found it interesting, and I wanted to try playing it. (I
still really love the game.) But, he was the one that owned it, and he knew
stuff about it, so naturally I actually talked to him.
And, so we
talked more and more, even when it was only just us. And soon it became
therapeutic for me to discuss the break up and everything with him. I said that
I especially missed the relationship and having someone to kiss and be close
with. And to be honest, I don’t remember the exacts but soon after… we began
kissing.
At the time
I convinced myself that it was because I just wanted that feeling again and I
could just pretend he was a girl (I know, it’s ridiculous, shut up.) But now I
was faced with the fact that I actually did that. And we did it more times,
multiple times. It was strangely comforting, but also a rush. I was in a school
that would literally expel me for that. And I was constantly around doctrine
and dogma telling me that I would go to hell for it.
But the
thing I hated trying to admit was that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t enjoy that! I
wondered about being a girl and now I liked kissing a guy? My depression
plummeted. I frequently cried at night, and this was one of the few times in my
life where I actually prayed. I prayed for the feelings to go away. I wanted
God to just make me normal. I was supposed to be a straight cisgender guy
right? So why couldn’t I just do that? And I prayed for months upon months for
it.
But the feelings never left. In
fact, more and more they piled up in my mind. I had lost one of my best
friends, I was in the guys dorms where I hated it, I lost my girlfriend, I
could be expelled, if my family knew I would be rejected, and I sincerely
believed it would send me to hell. So at that point in my mind I thought I’m
damned for this… so what’s the difference for being damned if I killed myself?
I mean, at least then I wouldn’t need to deal with everything.
So, one night by myself I went to
an empty unlocked room on the top floor. I removed the screen and sat on the
windowsill, looking down at the concrete 5 stories down. I sat there and I
cried. If I ended it, I wouldn’t need to confess to anyone, and no one would
need to know my horrible secrets. But eventually, I decided that the fear of
hell was so great, I had to find another way around it. So I got down, and
tried to find a better way.
Plan
I had a
plan in motion. I knew about Martin Luther College, a school also run by WELS.
If I went there to become a teacher (Which I actually did want to do) they
would give me a job and I wouldn’t need to worry. I was totally convinced that
just maybe if I went to MLC, I could find a girl to change my feelings and save
my soul, or at the very least be celibate, and not need to worry about it
anymore. Plus, I knew friends going there, so even more bonus.
So, I set
out to do so, totally convinced it would be God’s plan to save my soul. And
sincerely I believed that for a while. And so still I continued to pray just in
case. I tried to become closer to God. But instead, I felt myself drifting
further as the feelings didn’t go away. I felt betrayed by God. Ask and it will
be given to you, seek and you will find! God was supposed to listen and help
me! If these feelings would damn me, why did he keep letting me have them?
Some nights
I found myself in the campus chapel alone, wanting the feelings to just go. I
couldn’t take them anymore. I was getting near suicide again, but I knew I
couldn’t do that. I had to keep trying.
Overcompensation
I tried
dating again. I dated two more girls, hoping for the feelings to leave. Each
lasted a few days. But still I tried to be as much of a “dude” as I could. I
occasionally let my facial hair grow out. I tried to talk about women and how
hot they were, and ridiculous guy things like that, I had reached a point where
I was trying to be the opposite of what I wanted to be.
And for a
time, I was able to keep it up. I kept up this façade of being a man, and I
kept up the façade of being ok with myself. But truthfully my self-esteem was
at an all-time-low. I was practically an atheist. I had lost my connection with
God. I had lost most of my feeling really.
I tried to
keep it going as best as I could, but I hated how I looked. The facial hair was
awful, and I hated having to pretend. But I hoped if I pretended long enough I
would just become that way. But finally, the summer before my Junior year of
college, I snapped, and I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I was done.
Boyfriend
It started
first with my sexuality. I couldn’t stand denying myself anymore. I knew I
liked men (in addition to women) and I couldn’t just keep pressing that down.
So at first it began with accepting the feelings were there. But I didn’t act
on them, I couldn’t anyway, who would I act on them with? But then, the biggest
change came that summer.
I had a
friend that wanted me to video chat with him and other people he met through online
communities. And it was all kinds of fun! We would chat about random stuff and
sometimes it would only be a few of us. But there was one person that caught my
eye specifically, a guy that called himself Chester.
To be
honest, at first all it was was that I found him really cute, so I messaged him
privately and began talking with him privately. At the time, he believed he was
totally straight, but I talked to him anyway. And soon we found ourselves
talking more and more. And for the first time in a very long time… I started to
be happy.
He shared
my story of being at a Christian school studying to be a teacher. But he admitted
something that was very interesting to me. Even though he was sure he was
straight… he had a crush on me. And I had a crush on him. So, we started dating
long distance. It was strange. I had spent so long fighting these feelings for
God, and I was miserable. But now that I “gave in” to the feelings I was
happier than ever. But what about God?
We
discussed it fairly often, about God, I didn’t want to totally leave God.
Something kept drawing me back. I began researching and reconciling slowly. I
knew finally that I couldn’t stay with WELS. But transferring would be a bigger
hassle. So, now I had to hide a boyfriend from school and family.
So, I would
call Chester every night and talk to him and we would skype occasionally. The
next summer we met up in Pittsburgh I met up with Chester in person and met his
brother as well. Things were going amazingly and I took a huge risk, I brought
him home with me. Of course, I just played it off as him being a friend so
family wouldn’t know (When you read this part mom, Sorry for lying but let’s be
honest, you wouldn’t have let him come over if you knew he was my boyfriend :P)
And then when he was going to fly back home, we hugged tight for a long time
and cried, not knowing when we’d see each other again. And finally I said good bye.
Genderqueer
Remember
though, that I’m not just bi. At this point, I had totally reconciled that, but
my gender still bugged me. I wasn’t sure I could say I wanted to be a girl, but
I wasn’t happy with myself still. I started exploring a little bit with my
boyfriend with girlier clothes. I started trying on skirts and looking more
feminine… and I loved it. And for the first time, I thought maybe it would be
ok.
But I wasn’t
ready to admit full on yet. I had pushed everything down for so long, I almost
couldn’t even admit to myself the feelings were there. So I made a compromise,
I told my boyfriend I was genderqueer, just between genders. I tried to start
looking more androgynous-ish. And now that I wasn’t overcompensating, I was
starting to feel better! But then, things got interesting quicker.
Friends
During
summer I found out my friend Zak Stowe was gay. So while I texted him about it,
I decided to take the moment. What other moment would I have? So, just before
our senior year, I came out to him in return. And soon after, I came out to
other school friends, and told them about Chester. And Zak, in addition to my
other friends have continued to be a huge support to me.
So now I
finally had the venue I needed to be open to myself. I went to pridefest with
Zak and another friend (I don’t know if she’s ready to be out yet so she’ll be
anonymous) and it was amazing! I felt even more comfortable with myself! But I
still couldn’t shake the gender feelings. So finally, I simply said I wanted to
be female. I was starting to admit the feelings to myself. I had already moved
so far away from WELS thinking, what did I have to lose anymore?
Soon after
we broke up because of distance, unrelated to my gender identity. But now… I
was ok. I starting to be ok with myself. I began looking into what goes into
transitioning, and I began growing my hair out. I was finally beginning to be
happy with myself! But there remained two looming questions. Would anyone date
me? And what about family?
Questions
The first
question thankfully didn’t stay long as I met Kurt through friends. We shared a
lot of silliness and nerdiness together. And I was up front about being
transgender this time. I mean, I wasn’t really transitioning yet, and looked
nothing like a girl, but still, he said I could be his girlfriend and January
18th we began dating. (And spoiler alert, we’re still together
<3)
But the
second question stayed. I was about a year away from graduating, and I knew I
couldn’t hide being trans, and I didn’t want to keep Kurt a secret. I already
knew I was going to be gone from WELS by the time I graduated, but what about
coming out? And especially what about student teaching? I already had to keep
Kurt a secret from family and school, but what about my gender?
Stress
naturally grew, but despite this, I kept exploring my gender identity.
Ultimately, for multiple reasons Zak was not allowed to student teach and was
forced to graduated that May with a non-teaching degree. And so, on graduation
day, he came out as gay. And to be honest, I was jealous. I was jealous both of
how his family reacted but also that he was actually out. I wanted that so bad.
But I still had student teaching and I wanted my degree.
And… I
couldn’t wait. So, I told my mom first. There was a lot of crying and hugging
and questions. I think I was asked “Are you sure you’re not gay?” like 5 times
that night. (P.S. mom, really though, I’m not just gay :P) And then the next
morning I told dad. And then siblings and others also found out. But at the
time, no one really had to face it. I told them what I was going through, but I
hadn’t start anything. So, ultimately, very little changed yet. I thought that
maybe family was going to be good about it. Everyone seemed relatively ok at the time, and it would
take adjustment.
But student
teaching came quickly, and it was a new thing for me to face. And then came the
continuing question, what about transitioning? I didn’t want to wait, I couldn’t wait. I had finally reconciled
myself, and I was starting to be happy! But if school found out I was doomed.
So, I had to tip-toe through it, and I found my way to do that.
On October
1st of 2014, I found my hormone doctor, and I first began hormone
treatments. Now, hormones are easy to hide, and the effects are slow and
subtle, so I wasn’t too worried. But then, after my first week of student
teaching, I passed the first session and had to go to Wisconsin for the second.
I would live with a host family, people I had never met. So I lived with an
older couple (Who were perfectly friendly and lovely by the way.) And I began
session two of student teaching.
And hiding
stayed easy. The effects were subtle enough that no one knew about the
hormones. But student teaching was stressful. I was told that I wasn’t doing
well enough, and I got very little feedback from my advisor. I felt like I was
set up to fail. And while the students loved me, my advisors weren’t confident
in me.
Eventually,
I reached a lot point. I was hiding my boyfriend, hiding myself, hiding my
hormones, having to lie about who I am, and all while trying to put on a façade
of a good conservative Christian teacher. One night I even almost drove myself
to the ER, terrified of my suicidal thoughts.
And then,
finally, I was told that I failed student teaching. I cried, a lot. The next
day, I finished my lessons and then left. Students gave me good-bye letters,
but I said very little to anyone. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was going to
graduate with a non-teaching degree in December, I couldn’t handle going to MLC
anymore. I packed my things and went to Zak’s place. I desperately needed to be
somewhere welcoming. And then afterwards, I filled out the paperwork and
graduated December of 2014. I was done with MLC. I left it behind gladly. And I
couldn’t take it anymore. And then Christmas was the final day I ever set foot
in a WELS church. Finally, after years, I was done.
But
questions weren’t really done yet. I had a degree different from what I wanted,
graduated a semester earlier than planned, had no jobs lined up, I was 3 months
on hormones, and I had no idea where I was going. But, I had already planned to
move to Des Moines because friends offered me a place to stay. So, I packed my
stuff up and moved to Des Moines, where my boyfriend already was as well.
Transgender
Using the
phrase “I am transgender” seemed really odd at first. I had said it, like,
maybe 2 or 3 times before. I mean, I admitted it to friends, but I always
talked around saying that phrase. But on New Year’s Day I posted that sentence,
with a very short version of my story. I finally was out. And not just out to
specific people, I was out totally and publicly. I finally was declaring who I
was. I changed my name on facebook to Amber Noel Birner finally.
And at
first, the response was amazing! So much support from friends and even some
cousins, and people I hadn’t seen or talked to in years! The response made me
smile so much, seeing so much support! And sure, there were some dissenters but
overall, everything was amazing! But of course, that’s not the end of the
story.
My oldest
sister called me a sexual deviant and kept me from talking to my nieces or
nephew and blocked me from social media. Much of my extended family removed me
from social media. My mother asked me to move back home, stop transitioning,
and see a counselor. My hopes from the last year of family reacting ok were
beginning to shatter.
But I had
Kurt, and I had friends, and eventually I had a job with Wells Fargo. And
things began to get better again. I was terrified at first of coming out at
work. But when I began to see how open work was, I took the leap. And thus, I
began finally being full time female, after 6 months on hormones. And coworkers
have ultimately been insanely amazing about it.
But some
things still loom. I’m going to apologize to family that reads this part, but I
can’t hold back how I feel. I was told that I am heading down a “dark path”
since transitioning. I have been told by multiple family members that they
cannot support what I’m “doing.” (Doing is in quotes because what I’m “doing”
is being myself.) And ultimately, that is the pain that still stick around.
I am the
happiest I’ve ever been with myself. I can actually stand to look at myself. I
feel like my body finally belongs to me. And now that I’m finally being me, it
hurts all the more. Every time someone says “he” or every time a family member
says “Samuel” or “brother” or “son” or “uncle” a knife twists in me. I have
been told that it feels “like I died.” When I’m told that I can’t be supported
for living as myself, it’s like I’m losing family all the more.
And so,
questions still loom. Am I welcome in family? Now I know they will say absolutely,
that I’m always welcome. But when I know deep down they mean that “Samuel, the
son/brother/uncle we thought you were, just looking like a girl now” is welcome
I wonder then, am I welcome? Is Amber
Noel Birner, the daughter/sister/aunt welcome? And if they can’t support me for me and accept me, they only see
me as some person that they thought I was that I was only pretending to be for
so long… then how in the hell could anyone declare that I am welcome?
Looking Forward
This is the
only section I thought deserved a two word header. Because there’s two things
looking forward. Again to family that reads this, I apologize but I also have
the be honest.
On the
unfortunate side, the family question still looms. Where am I welcome? Who can
I call family? When my mom in conversation never acknowledges the man I’ve been
with for almost a year and a half now, when I know that most (if not all) of
them will not show up to my wedding, when I know that I will likely not have
family support when I have children, when I think that my children may grow up
with only one grandma and grandpa on Kurt’s side because the other side won’t
support us, I have to wonder, can I really
call them family simply because of DNA?
But on the
other side, the future looks brighter. I have started laser hair removal. I’m
looking into voice therapy. I have a very wonderful boyfriend, wonderful
friends, and amazing coworkers. I have the ACLU working to help me legally
change my name and gender. I’m working with the ACLU for trans advocacy and to
further social progress for transgender folk. And ultimately, despite the
looming questions, I am the happiest with myself I have ever been, and continue
to be happier. And regardless of what happens, as long as I still have my
support and Kurt by my side, I think I’ll be ok.
My name is Amber Noel
Birner and I am an out and proud bisexual transgender woman.
I'm sorry you went through these experiences in the WELS, Amber. In spite of our theological differences, you may recall that we were able to have a relatively cordial discussion in the WELS Discussions Facebook group a while back. The bigotry and bias demonstrated by other "participants" in that discussion made me sick and I understand why you have fled from it. I hope you know that there are Confessional Lutherans out there who don't engage in the hypocrisy and cultishness of the WELS denizens you have regrattably encountered throughout your life.
ReplyDeleteAt any rate, the offer I made in WELS Discussions to continue our dialogue still stands. You are in my prayers.