I’ve had several different doctors since I started testosterone- some good, some bad. There was the doctor that sprang a pelvic exam on me during a visit and another who said that it wasn’t worth it for me to get a pap smear because testosterone messed with the results anyway. I had a doctor who awkwardly complimented me on how it ‘didn’t look like I was trans,’ and a nurse who almost fainted- from I don’t know, transphobia?- upon seeing the doctor give me a breast exam. As down as all of this sounds, I’ve also had positive experiences with doctors. I’m terrified of needles, and many of the medical practitioners I’ve worked with have been very sensitive to that and helped me deal with my anxiety. I’ve been able to be on the gel (Androgel, then Testim, now some generic ‘testosterone gel’ that my insurance covers) and had doctors support that. Some of the doctors I’ve worked with have been much more knowledgeable and affirming than others, but all have tried.

The mixed bag of doctors out there, though, does make it a hassle every time I have to find a new one. I recently moved states for a new job and need to find someone to continue to prescribe my testosterone. Honestly, this is a job that virtually anyone could do. I’ve been on testosterone since 2010 and haven’t had to have my dose adjusted in the last 3 or so years. At this point, it’s just rubber stamping my prescription and analyzing my blood work once a year. Still, I can’t just go to anyone. I need someone who is knowledgable and affirming. This can be frustrating at times. I’ve had to drive pretty far for my doctor appointments, and I can’t just Google doctors in my area and pick one.

The good thing is that the community is really helpful for things like this. The online trans community has been a big part of my transition, and even though I’m not as active in the community as I used to be, it is still an important part of my life. The first thing I do when I move to a new city is go on Tumblr or Reddit and ask about trans friendly doctors, and generally I get some good advice. While I’ve had some awkward, uncomfortable, and downright unpleasant situations with doctors, I’ve avoided some much worse situations by following the well trodden path of trans people who came before me, heeding their warnings about this doctor or that one. I haven’t found my new doctor yet, but I’m more optimistic this time around because I’ve moved to a larger metropolitan area. Hopefully someday all doctors will be welcoming to trans people and not so in the dark about trans healthcare. I know a lot of other trans people are working on helping educate medical professionals, and I sincerely appreciate what they’ve done and all the work they continue to do.

During my transition, I have lived as both completely out and (as much as possible) completely stealth. Right now, I’m somewhere in-between. Each of these periods have had their benefits and disadvantages, and I know I’m privileged to be able to make this choice about how I want to live my life. It’s been interesting, and I’m still deciding how I want to approach things as I move for a new job and therefore once again have a new start. Here’s a bit of an overview of where I’ve been on the out-stealth spectrum.

Out

I went to a small college in my small hometown, so there was no way to keep my transition a secret. Before coming out as trans, I had come out as a lesbian and was very active in the queer community- I started a gay-straight alliance at my high school and was president of the GSA at my college. I was one of the only out trans people at my college (though Adrian in many ways paved the way for me by coming out first!) and I spent a lot of my time educating people and explaining my transition. Being trans was both a huge part of my life and a huge part of my identity. It was also something I was more or less known for- my wife knew I was trans before we were formally introduced and before she really knew anything else about me. I felt like I really did a lot of good educating people and being an example of an out trans person on campus, but it was also pretty exhausting.

Stealth

After college, I moved to another state for graduate school and I had the opportunity to decide whether or not I wanted to be out. At this point, I had been on testosterone for about a year and a half or so and I was more or less ‘passing’ most of the time. This was the first time since I was 14 that I wasn’t presenting or read as gender non-conforming, and I was curious what it would be like to have people to get to know me as me first before only knowing me as ‘that trans person.’ I was also nervous about safety, acceptance, and the potential impact on my future career. So, I deleted my old Facebook and spent the two years of my masters not discussing my past. I spent the vast majority of my time interacting with people who didn’t know I was trans and kept it like a secret. It was refreshing to not have to educate people or explain myself, to not worry that people were talking behind my back, judging me, or that they didn’t consider me a ‘real man.’ But it was also exhausting in its own way, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I didn’t make any close friends during that time.

In Limbo

After my masters, I moved once again for my PhD. This time, I decided to generally be stealth, but to come out to my friends and find spaces where I could safely be out. I attended a trans support group for a few years and again became a little more involved in the queer community. I made a group of close friends who I came out to, though I still felt there were colleagues and professors who I felt I couldn’t tell- which meant I remained stealth on Facebook. This put me a bit in limbo. There are people who know who I interact with on a day-to-day basis and people who don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m keeping a secret because I tell anyone who I get close to, although lately this has become complicated as I’ve made new friends and struggled to come out.

Coming out is difficult. I’d rather people just know and for everyone to be as blasé about it as I am. I’m not interested in telling my story or engaging in trans 101 with every new friend- least of all because my coming out story is not particularly interesting! Every time I come out, I’m anxious about rejection or people seeing me differently. I get that these are small problems compared to those faced by other trans people. I generally don’t worry about my safety anymore. I have a good job where it would be unlikely that I’d be fired for being trans (though maybe I should be more worried about that). My family have all come around to me being trans, except for a few people who I no longer speak to. So, the anxiety I have about coming out is not a huge deal.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if my comfort comes at the expense of making a difference in the world. Even though it isn’t my job per se to educate people about trans issues just because I’m trans, I’m in a position where I could do so. Young trans students might feel better knowing that they have a trans professor, my colleagues might learn something. However, I find myself clam up because of my anxiety.

There’s another layer to all of this now that I have a child. On one hand, I worry about how others will treat him if it is public that he has a trans parent. Me coming out as trans also ‘outs’ him as donor conceived, and deep down I worry that others will also see me as less of his father. That, however, is likely a reflection of my own anxieties and something I need to work through more than a serious concern. On the other hand, I think it is important to demonstrate to my son that being trans is something to be proud of. I’m afraid that me not being open about being trans (and, especially, him being donor conceived) sends a message that those things are shameful. I also don’t want to pass on secrets. An important component to all of this is that we are moving to a conservative area in the South, and perhaps I am naive when I dismiss issues of safety.

This has been a bit rambling, but the point I want to make is that being out or stealth is a spectrum, and that even at this point in my transition I still make decisions about how open to be. These decisions are tough. I haven’t found a casual or easy way to come out to people once I’ve already gotten to know them, and it isn’t exactly something you can take back once it’s out of the bag. This is something I grapple with every time I move or make new friends, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

Like many trans people, I was an active blogger (on Tumblr and YouTube) early on in my transition. I meticulously documented my first year on testosterone, my top surgery, and other milestones in my transition. For awhile, I (with my friend Adrian) ran a fairly popular Tumblr called The Art of Transliness, writing posts with advice about name changes, coming out, binding, and all manner of things related to being a trans man. We also answered people’s questions until we became bogged down with our work and family obligations- not to mention the sheer amount of questions we were receiving. Not only that, we found after several years of running the blog that we were no longer up-to-date on what I guess could best be referred to as ‘early transition issues.’ We’d dispensed all of our advice. We were tapped out. Again, like many trans people (although fewer these days), I disappeared from the trans online world several years into my transition. 

There are now several prominent trans men who have remained active online talking about their experiences many years after they began their transitions. However, I’m still moved to start blogging again because I still have something to add to the conversation. I came out as trans 10 years ago and, at that time, I struggled to imagine what my future would look like. I longed to hear from settled, employed trans adults with children- those living the life I wanted to live. I am now exiting my 20s and living that life I hoped for but could barely imagine. I want young trans people to be able to see that, to know that it is one among many possibilities for them (if that’s what they want). 

I also want a space to reflect on trans-related issues that impact my life now. Unlike when I first began testosterone, I do not have regular milestones or interesting transition-related experiences. However, that doesn’t mean that being trans no longer impacts my life. Instead, it subtly weaves its way through my life and comes up in the least expected ways. I want to document and discuss these things and open conversations about being at this stage in my transition.

To briefly introduce myself, I am married, a dad to a young son, and a professor at a university in the South. I came out as a lesbian at 14 and trans at 19. I transitioned in college, where I was very active in the campus queer community. I’ve been on testosterone (the gel) for about 9 years. During this time, I’ve had periods of being very out and periods of being completely stealth- spending most of my time somewhere in between. I will elaborate on this and what it’s been like in future posts.