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Latest Voices
Baring His Chest
As the shower water heats up, I help my eighteen-year-old trans son remove the post-surgical compression vest he’ll be wearing for the next six months. I unzip the front, unhook each of three hooks, and unstrap the velcro from each shoulder and take it off.
His Legacy!
As a twenty-two-year-old working in Saudi Arabia as a public health nurse, I was excited to be going back on vacation to India. As I landed in Bombay (now Mumbai), I got stopped by a corrupt customs officer who demanded money. He refused to let me leave and told me that I had to pay 5000 rupees. I was scared and angry but did not speak. He went to talk with his supervisor, who I assumed would be in cahoots with him. Standing there, I prayed to the blessed mother (Mary) and asked for her help.
Personal Days
This week, our resident clinic was decimated. The interns were out on a “personal week”-the week between first and second year of residency. One of our senior residents was on maternity leave, and the three remaining residents were all taking a “personal day” here and there to a attend a funeral, visit a sick grandmother, etc. My co-preceptor, realizing we would not need two preceptors this week, had taken a few days of vacation. Which left me with two new interns, eager and enthusiastic to learn, and my senior resident on her last day of clinic.
Acceptance
During a recent trip to Manhattan, I attended a matinee and found a survey from the theater taped to my seat. As I carefully filled it out, the woman seated next to me—a senior citizen like myself—loudly took exception to a question on it about gender identity. “There are only two genders,” she proclaimed, “female and male. These ‘binary’ or ‘trans’ choices are nonsense.” I perhaps should have confronted her about her closed-mindedness, but I remained silent.
July More Voices: Trans
Dear readers,
I adapt slowly to new things. I’m skeptical of new technologies, the latest fashions and the most recent fads. While I like to think of myself as progressive when it comes to matters of politics and social justice, the truth is my gut is often conservative about interpersonal matters and the stuff of daily life.
So in recent years, I’ve been astonished at the rapidity with which something that was invisible when I was growing up–a person changing their gender–has become commonplace.
Reflections from the Reservation
On the precipice of starting my career, I packed my car and set out on the two-day trip from California to the Four Corners, to be a pharmacist at a clinic on the Navajo Reservation. Beyond checking patients’ medications, I wanted to be engulfed by the people and culture of the region—its Red Rocks serving as a balustrade between my new community and the old life I was leaving behind.
Life and Death in My Hands
My hands that are so accustomed to resting on the wrinkled skin of my aging patients, often in the last moments of their lives, have once again become restless in these times. I reach for a hand, only to remember with a start that we live in a sterile world now. There was a respite, a few bright months here and there where my patients’ confused minds clouded by Alzheimer’s could see my whole face. They met me for the first time over and over again, always recognizing the humanity of my smile.
Stand Your Ground
I was too damn polite. Blame my Midwestern upbringing that hardwired me with nice girl, don’t be pushy settings.
I was too deferential, cautious about antagonizing the mental health professionals I needed as allies. I worried that I’d come across as presumptuous, as difficult if I suggested that I—without benefit of their training, clinical experience, or certifications—saw something they were missing.
Stalemate
Once I looked forward to his visits, but years later I dreaded them. My change of heart began after he was laid off from his janitorial position. He worked diligently, applying desperately for jobs, but the economy was slow, and no one was hiring. The stress of not being able to make ends meet was crushing. His blood pressure rose, and he grew angry and depressed.
