Transition: The Cost

Everything has a cost. That's just one of the axioms you learn in life. Sometimes the cost is great, sometimes it's relatively small. Sometimes you can quantify it, sometimes you can't. Sometimes you can predict the cost ahead of time, sometimes anything you venture is little more than a guess. Sometimes, costs are invisible at first and only become apparent after time has passed. Regardless, coming to an understanding that there are costs (and rewards) for things is simply part of becoming an adult.

That's what this essay is about: Cost. Specifically, it is about some of the costs faced by transsexuals who would venture across the gender line on this pilgrimage we call "transition". If I had known much of what I'm going to share here at the front end of my own transition I would have some different decisions - not about transitioning but about steps I've taken along the way. Instead, I continue to pay a price for not realizing many of these things up front. The danger is that you'll misjudge the costs, and the end result can be that you'll mortgage years of your life as a result.

Each of us will have a different perspective on this topic for any number of reasons. That, however, cannot prevent us from sharing our thoughts and experiences. Some level of communal experience must necessarily involve sharing, and I'm confident that many of the issues I have encountered in my own journey are common to others. I'm also confident that the general themes of cost, reward, and life choices are universal. They're things each of us must manage throughout our lives.

This essay is not meant to be a pity party over the horrific challenges many of us can/might/will face. It is not meant to scare, or to intimidate - our fears can do that without any rational discussion whatsoever. It is meant to provide things to think about that you may not have considered so that you can go into these things with your eyes open and you'll know what you see when you see it. Do all these things apply to all of us? Of course not. Can it be worse than I portray here? Absolutely. These are simply some lessons learned by someone who has been there, and who has seen others struggle.

Some of what I share here is specific to transitioning. Other costs are more generic - costs we face as a consequence of our disclosure. Together they provide an idea of the bigger picture. In my opinion, that's what's important here: the bigger picture. Any one of these "costs" by itself might be something we can overcome. Together, they can provide a tsunami of cost that will only become apparent as time goes on.

To begin, let's put this into some sort of context. By the time many of us come to a tipping point about revealing or investigating our transgender nature in terms of possible transition plans we've already reached middle-age. By that stage of our lives we've often established something of a career, or a job history. Often, we're married. We're parents. We probably have any number of financial obligations: a home, a car, credit. We have some significant level of life experience behind us, and we have developed some level of self-awareness. We have any number of expectations of us and, indeed, the path to authenticity often necessarily begins by shedding the suffocating roles and expectations which stand directly in the path of getting from here to anywhere. Younger transitioners may not face some of these challenges.

The decisions we make (or just as likely, that get made for us) regarding our marriage, our career, our transition, and any number of other things will have reverberations throughout many different aspects of our life for years to come. If we're not careful (and sometimes, even when we are), decisions made with the best of intentions may come back to haunt us and smother us to the point where the very thing we're hoping to achieve - a fulfilling, authentic life - becomes totally compromised.

I see a couple of issues to address. One, this often becomes an emotional discussion rather than a rational one. That's the way it was for me. But the reality is that we need to approach what happens in terms of "cost" with some level of detachment and a level head. We need to remove as much of the emotion from it as we can because that's the fastest way to do things we won't be able to undo later when cooler heads prevail. Still, emotion often plays a significant role in what happens.

Secondly, I know this is going to sound cold but there's no other way to say it. As you embark on this journey you'll need to chase any notions you have of 'justice' or 'fairness' from your head. Those who haven't learned that lesson or who choose to believe otherwise will most probably find it out the hard way. These things are inherently unjust and unfair. The fact that we deal with the often horrific costs that we do is totally and completely unfair, undeserved, and unjustifiable, but that doesn't change the fact that the issues raised here can send even the most hardy of us into a terrible spiral from which we are fortunate to recover . People turn the spotlight on broken trans-people, who would certainly make different decisions at the outset if they could go back in time, as proof that this path is inherently bad or wrong or misguided. The fact of the matter is that we find ourselves burdened with life circumstances that have nothing to do with gender: financial hardships, loss of family and friends, legal woes, career difficulties, and that's the source of our unhappiness. Society is poised to punish those who would cross it, and then blame the victim as a deterrent for those who would follow. The key here is to make wise decisions where you can better understand the long-term implications to minimize the chance that you will be that victim.

I'm a very strong person. I handled the tumult of my transition as best I could. Still, I found myself chased out of a job that I enjoyed, my finances in shambles, facing a divorce that sought to take everything from me, losing custody of my son, needing simple human intimacy but facing the very real possibility that it would not be forthcoming. The following passage is from an email to a friend on October 12, 2000 - a couple of months after my Sex Reassignment Surgery. I wrote it in a moment of emotional distress over the job and financial issues I was facing at the time:

In my own mind, there is a difference between knowing your reality, and feeling the pressure of it. I am so well aware of the facts and details of my existence that it isn't funny. If I let the weight of that pressure get to me, I have no idea how I would function. I am very good at forging ahead despite my encumbrance...trying to solve the issues at hand in bite size pieces....one at a time. And so far, I always seem to be able to find a solution.

Now, the pressure is beginning to seep in. I am feeling the full weight of it. I think about it. It keeps me awake. It concerns me. It affects me. And although it has certainly always been here...it has not bothered me so much until lately. The financial picture, and divorce picture, and relationship picture, and job picture....in its entirety (as you very effectively pointed out, as your letter almost made me cry)... it is a depressing and harrowing and daunting "reality". It IS upsetting. But it is my life right now.

If I had no resources at my disposal to climb out of this, I have no idea what I would do. Desperation is not my forte. If I got to that point, I think I would shut down like a toy whose battery has died. But I am not there yet, so I'll deal with these realities one by one, as I always have, and hope to climb back to the light of day.

I expect that I will get there, eventually, but I have never had so many fires blazing at the same time, so it will be quite the recovery.

Before discussing cost (or, perhaps a better word might be "price") it's important to highlight the balance between cost and reward. The greater the anticipated reward, the higher the price a person can rationalize paying for it. I daresay that equation is the foundational question for many things we do or don't do in life, including the transition decision. Many of us have struggle for years with a burden that becomes too heavy to bear, so the allure of finally finding peace and living authentically is a very strong motivator. Many of us continue to question ourselves, to doubt ourselves, to swoon at the potential cost, so getting past that in terms of reward is a slow and difficult journey. Many people never get there.

Who would risk everything to chase a mirage? Some would say that only someone mentally unstable would do it. Others would argue that only a fool would do it. Still others might say that only someone with nothing left to lose would take that journey. For many of us, none of those circumstances apply. It is a much nobler journey that takes courage, self-awareness, trust, and hope. That's not to say those who choose not to take it, or are unable to take it, are in any way lacking in those qualities. It's simply to say that those who take the journey are often far more sane and healthy than most would want to believe.

I do want to highlight my opinion that many trans-people discount the role that courage plays in this equation. We somehow choose to blind ourselves to it, and I think that's a big mistake. It takes great courage to take great risks, that's just the way it is. Often, we tend to rationalize it by saying that we had no other choice but in reality we have many other choices. I think it somehow comforts us to feel as though we're compelled to transition, that we're forced to, that the only other choice was death. I don't buy that. Maybe that approach is meant to absolve us in our own minds of the consequences of our choices - it's a way to rationalize it. People in generations before ours didn't have those same "choices" and somehow found a way to live out their lives. In reality, choices are made every second of every day. If we can truly understand the motivators and de-motivators for them we're much more likely to understand the decisions we make, or at least come to peace with them. When it comes to courage, there are two specific things to keep in mind: (1) courage is in the eye of the beholder and (2) courage is contagious.

The transition period is necessarily about separating our own reality from the fantasy world we've created in our mind. Looking at life "on the other side" gets an almost romantic quality to it, and it's lure can become amazingly strong. The question is whether or not our own experiences will come anything close to that fantasy. The day-to-day existence is a far different reality than the sensationalized fiction of life on the other side that so many of us invent in our heads. Many of us walk into this decision with expectations that are way out of whack, so there's a very steep re-adjustment as the real world slams us in the side of the head. That's what the "Real Life Experience" is all about.

The fact of the matter is that once these words are out of your mouth your life is forever changed. Even if you decide that you can address your transgender nature in other ways and decide not to transition for whatever reason, or you begin to transition and then stop, the way that people perceive you has fundamentally changed. The life that you return to is not the same life you left before you became "out". That simple dynamic becomes the source of many bad decisions. People get the mindset of, "Well, now that people know I may as well go all the way" rather than taking stock of their situations and doing what feels best for them. Others approach it as though it's a contest, something to be endured. Still others find themselves in a bad place place: unhappy or unfulfilling relationships, dead-end job, general mid-life blah's - so the thought of transition becomes appealing simply as an escape. All these things get in the way of seeing it for what it is - an opportunity to make decisions about your life based on experience rather than based on fantasy, fear, control, or expectations. I believe the mindset that a person has going into it has a significant impact on the "cost" decisions they will make, and therefore on the long-term issues that comprise day-to-day life.

Further complicating this discussion is that cost and reward are subjective - costs to me may not be costs to you. The importance or significance of any cost is subjective, as well, so all any of us can do is determine how any of these things fit into our own lives.

You'll see that relationship over and over again: Anticipated Reward justifies Perceived Cost (or Perceived Risk). It's key to many decisions you'll make over the course of your lifetime. The one factor critical to the outcome: time. These things take time. There is no way around it. How long is any of us willing to wait to begin enjoying the rewards we're anticipating? Conversely, how long is any of us willing to endure the costs that are suddenly making our life unpleasant before questioning our direction and abandoning our course? There are no easy answers.

I think few trans people really realize the benefits they enjoy simply because they fit into society. Indeed, many of us don't really realize many of these benefits until our exterior starts to change, until we start to look or act "different", and we no longer fit into any of the the neat little boxes that society has created. Think about it. The pressures to conform to societal and cultural paradigms communally exerts itself on us and those around us from an early age to the point that we rarely stop to consider it. This need for acceptance has has tremendous power to the point that the mere threat of societal disapproval is enough to keep most people in line.

If there is truly a caste of Untouchables in our culture, I challenge that those who are outwardly transgender IS that caste. Although we have committed no crime, we suddenly open ourselves to discrimination, ridicule, violence, anger, hate, unemployment - all simply for being different. There is no other group in our culture who faces a similar stigma. One minute you're a good neighbor, a hard worker, a loving parent, a dedicated son or daughter. The next, all that is somehow discounted by the simple news that you're transgender. How can that happen?

That happens because those in lower castes are singled out for isolation and exclusion, both as punishment for transgressing whatever boundary they are perceived to have crossed, and as a motivator to force them back into the mainstream again. Most seem to simply accept the fact that being "different" will cause a societal reaction. I think few stop to realize the underlying motivations and forces at work. In fact, many of the costs we face: financial, career, family, friends - they're all directly related to the caste/isolation dynamic. If admitting that you're transgender had no consequences it wouldn't be the huge deal it often turns out to be.

Being transgender is often considered to be SO heinous that people around us are affected, or at least they perceive that they are affected (there's a difference). They feel the pressures that society exerts on US: shame, guilt, sadness - and the fact that THEY are somehow pulled into this becomes a source frustration and anger which they often focus back on us. Somehow our transgression is perceived to be a reflection of them, and many move swiftly to distance themselves which is, in turn, part of the difficulty so many of us face. It's a complicated dynamic, but it all starts at the top: societal pressures to conform and punishment/isolation for those who won't or can't..

Most of my own life was spent as a successful white man. In our culture, this group is at or near the top of the food chain. It is a position of privilege, although many of us don't realize it at the time, and many in that group can honestly say they have never really experienced discrimination. They're used to being treated with some level of respect simply for being part of the group - nothing more. The general term for this status is "Penis Privilege".

The process of plunging from the top of the food chain to it's deepest, darkest cellar happens in a heartbeat, in the blink of an eye. It takes as long as it will take another person to recognize that you may not be what you at first appear, or for you to be outed by somebody (including yourself). A change that dramatic, that fast, cannot help but have impacts. In fact, it takes many of us as long to get used to this loss of stature as it does to come to peace about anything specific to gender or sex. I argue that many cannot overcome that dynamic and expect the same level of respect and privilege that they had always enjoyed. It is not forthcoming, and that single reality becomes the source of significant re-thinking.

Even for those who are fortunate enough to pass well, who find that they can blend well into their new gender because they can fit into societal expectations of what a man or woman is supposed to look/act/be like this loss of privilege can become a source of problems. I have several dear friends who have had similarly successful lives as men. They have attained significant status in professional, financial, or social circles. All would agree that a critical component of their success in the first place was the fact that they were men - women are generally not given the same opportunities to achieve those levels as men are. Once they transition, they find it difficult to accept anything less than the world of privilege they previously enjoyed. And, they want to be treated as their authentic gender. Often, the two are mutually exclusive.

I'm not going to argue whether or not it's fair. That really has nothing to do with this discussion. I, for one, do not espouse that men and women be treated the same. If so, what's the point in transitioning? Equal? Yes, of course. The same? No. Are we there yet? Far from it. The issue, though, is that people who transition sometimes want to pick and choose where they're given extra privilege and where they're not. It doesn't work like that for most of us. It's a package deal.

You may not want to believe this, but the day a person indicates to someone at work that they're contemplating a workplace transition may very well be the highpoint in terms of promotion of earning potential that he or she will achieve. Ever. There's a very good chance that things will go downhill from there - sometimes dramatically so. Despite all the policy work being done and the outreach aimed at changing perceptions of what it means to be transgender, the cold hard reality is that the minute you share this news is the minute that your financial and professional health becomes far more vulnerable and unsure than any of us wants to admit.

Common wisdom: if you have a job when you come out, keep it. Don't leave. Identify your allies, do your homework, engage external people to help, and keep focused on your work. If you're looking for a job that offers the best potential for a future workplace transition look at companies with better ratings on the HRC Corporate Equality Index.

Here's an irony for you: Sometimes this career dead-end can simply be a result of the fact that you've been successful at transitioning. I could write a book about the ways I'm treated differently in the workplace as a woman than I was as a man. In fact, I'm just now returning to the salary level I enjoyed prior to transitioning. I've got friends who complain that they're not treated with the same respect, getting promotions they feel they deserve, or getting raises that they expect and they blame the T-factor. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I remind them that this kind of inequity is something that women face each and every day and the simple fact is that they may simply be bumping against that glass ceiling. Again - the entire journey is fraught with cost.

Many of us don't have that opportunity. We become unemployed. Indeed, in the eyes of some we may become unemployable. How many of us lose our jobs and apply for job after job after job - all of which we're qualified or over-qualified to do, but find ourselves rejected time after time? That is far more the brutal reality of our situation than anything. I get emails every week about it - people who either come out or are outed, who have a long history of quality work, who are given the opportunity to look for another opportunity. Sometimes it can seem to be a good thing - depending on your position the company may offer you a separation package equal so some number of months of salary in return for signing something saying that you won't sue them. This can seem like a good deal, but there is a downside. Once you're out, it's hard (or impossible) to get back in again. Spend your package wisely as once it's gone, it's gone.

If you don't have a job, and you have no source of income, what are your options? There are very few of them. Where can a person turn? Many turn to the streets. The stereotype of trans people as sex workers is reality for far too many of us. We go there out of necessity with no job, no money, no place to go. Too many us end up there, trapped in a world we can't escape.

I believe this is the reason why the workplace advocacy efforts are so critically important. A job is central to so many other things. Fostering an appreciation for our work, our skills, our courage - that's critical to ensuring that bad things aren't allowed to happen. The Workplace - it's where the rubber hits the road.

There's no way around this one. Depending on your means, your expectations, and your situation you'll spend anywhere from a few thousand dollars to a hundred thousand dollars, or more.

There are any number of necessary expenses involved. Personally, I've spent probably $80K or more on everything (if I sit to try to estimate it exactly it gets too depressing to consider). I realize how incredibly fortunate I have been, and that the expense of many of these things will put them out of reach for many.

At the very beginning I was spending a thousand dollars a month, partly because I didn't want to leave a paper-trail so I paid for everything with cash. I didn't use my company prescription benefits, which would have significantly reduced the costs for my hormones, for fear it would somehow trigger something that would "out" me before I was ready. Psychologists cost $125 and up for an hour of time. Electrolysis costs $50 or more per hour, and it often takes hundreds of hours to totally clear a face and whatever other body parts are involved. If you're MTF and you're considering FFS don't be sticker-shocked when the estimate for all the work being recommended totals $40K or more. The point is that the physical aspects of a transition cost money and are an expense you didn't have before.

Many trans-people go into debt up to their eyeballs to pay for these things. Insurance won't cover them so they face the daunting reality of finding enough money to pay for them themselves. It can drain even the most healthy checking account clean, consume all retirement savings, and/or catapult you into a credit nightmare from which you'll have a difficult time recovering.

My own greatest fear was getting stuck somewhere in the middle without the financial resources to move forward or backward. I envisioned it like heading across the desert with some ration of food and water, and finding out somewhere in the middle that I didn't have enough to finish the journey. Where does that leave you? In a world of hurt, that's where. This is especially true when you combine these transition expenses with some of the other costs described here: unemployment/underemployment, divorce costs, additional living expenses. Combined, it can derail even the best planned transition at a time when you're most vulnerable.

By the time my gender stuff finally came to a boiling point I had been married for 16 years to a woman I continued to love. The knowledge that this news would hurt her was the single-most significant reason that I was able to keep the lid on it for a long, long time. Once in the open, there was terrible guilt and sadness over what it was doing to our marriage, and to her. That was the single-most difficult thing to deal with in this entire thing.

At one point, as transition seemed more and more possible for me, I posted something to one of the Usenet groups asking for advice on how to broach the subject with my wife. I was looking for practical advice from people who had been there before. What I received in response was a stream of posts telling me to take everything and run because if I gave my wife the chance to do it she wouldn't hesitate to do it to me. It encouraged me to just get up and go. I couldn't believe it - and there was no way I could do that to her. I hoped we could stay married, or at the very least we could be friends, and doing that to her simply wasn't an option. Now that I've been through it I understand why they responded the way they did.

Still, there are practical considerations to take into account in terms of financial health. I was asked to move out of my house, which I did. So, I now had an apartment to rent, and all the expenses associated with that. Plus, my wife and my son still needed money so I continued to pay my mortgage, the cars, etc.

When it came time to discuss divorce I gave up everything. The only things I specifically asked for were my Definitive Technologies speakers and my Denon receiver, both of which I ultimately did not get. I gave it all up - everything I had spent a lifetime building - partly out of guilt and partly because I just wanted it to be over. It wasn't worth fighting for. There are some things I miss: my coins, some of my collections, some photos, but in the end you'll need to get used to losing many of those things. The point, though, is that there is a significant financial implication to doing this that you will come to realize years down the road.

At first we hoped to handle our divorce with the help of a mediator. We felt we were close enough to agree on what is fair. It took only one discussion with a mediator (my wife was there in person, and I had to call in via phone because she was embarrassed and didn't want to see me) to realize that her perspective on fair and mine were far, far apart. So, we got lawyers involved and then it really got interesting.

I'll share a few things with you. The financial commitments I made, and that I continue to pay as part of my divorce decree, consume a significant portion of my monthly income at this stage of my life. Before I can spend a single penny on food, rent, insurance, gas or other necessities I have to pay the equivalent of a plasma TV to my ex-wife every month. That continues today and will continue for a while longer despite that fact that our divorce was finalized in early 2001. When my son was younger than 19 I had child support to pay on top of it, which effectively suffocated me and sent me into a deep, deep hole from which I'll never recover. That single commitment has caused me to do things that ruined credit, drain retirement accounts, give up savings, and basically live on the edge of a financial abyss. I was bitter about it all for quite a while, but I've finally come to peace with it.

When I was just starting out on my own, in my late teens and early 20's, I faced all the expenses involved with starting from nothing. Furniture: a couch, a bed, a dresser, a television. Kitchen stuff. Bathroom stuff. All the day-to-day household things I never really thought about until I had to get them for myself.

After almost 20 years of marriage, I was at that point again. I left home with nothing, rented an apartment, and found myself facing the task of getting all those things. Now, however, everything was double. I continued to pay the mortgage on my house, but now I had monthly rent for my apartment. I continued to pay the utilities for my house (electricity, gas, cable, etc.) but now I had those same expenses at my apartment. All in all, my living expenses increased significantly.

One area that lies at ground zero of our transition is relationships. I'd be so bold as to say that if we really consider it, this is actually the main motivator to transition (or not). Think about it. As a construct, gender doesn't even exist unless there are other people there to validate it. You're not a man or a woman because you say so. In a perfect world that might be the way it would work but that's not the way it is in the world you and I live in. Our culture is adamant in it's belief that you don't get to choose, and your gender is assigned based on the physical reality of your physical reality of being male or female. You're a man or a woman because others accept you as such, and it will treat you based on that. Society will allow you to do certain things and prevent you from doing other things because it accepts you as either a man or a woman. The key to this dynamic is the interaction between you and other people.

From our earliest days we're taught how to interact with other people based on their gender. We talk differently to men than we do to women: in a different tone of voice, using different words, for different reasons. It's actually very complex and absolutely fascinating. Part of the difficulty that arises with people that others suspect of being transgender is that others aren't sure how to interact with them. They're confused. This is complicated by the intersection of sex/gender and sexuality, especially with men.

It's likely that one cost of your disclosure is that you'll lose friends. They will be unable to take your journey with you for any number of reasons. How many? Who knows. Maybe all of them. Some will gradually distance themselves from you. Other times the reaction will be immediate and strong. One thing I learned first hand, to my surprise, was that people who were my good friends and who I expected would be able to overcome this discomfort would be the friends I'd lose. It seems as though many felt as though they had the greatest stake in my old self, and in some cases felt I had "killed" their friend. Some felt betrayed. Whatever the justification, they found a way to remove themselves from my life.

The most difficult and painful losses happen when you lost a husband/wife, your kids, or close family. Each of us faces this crisis in our own way, and there are no way words I type here can express those costs.

I firmly believe that the single most significant issue facing us as a community and as individuals is loneliness. That one thing has the power to make us do things we otherwise wouldn't or shouldn't do. Loneliness, isolation, lack of intimacy. They're all interconnected. On the flip side of the coin there is finally the opportunity to develop authentic friendships for the first time in our lives. That's great news. The heartbreak, however, happens when there's nobody there to develop those relationships with.

If we take the intimacy discussion one step further, there are a couple of costs that are rarely discussed. One, is that once you have SRS (if that's your goal) there is the possibility that you'll never have an orgasm again in your entire life. Sometimes, it could be related to the surgery itself. Other times, I think the problems are mentally induced in that people don't know HOW to have an orgasm any more. That may sound odd, as orgasms are generally physical responses to things. But the approach to them is not the same for men as it is for women and if people can't get past that they'll never put themselves into gear to experience it.

Another cost is that you may never have an opportunity to parent a child. I don't know that you'll think about this at the beginning, but at some point the prospect of raising a child as your authentic self, perhaps with a partner you met after your transition, might be something of interest. If you haven't done something in advance, you're out of luck. One friend planned for this - she went to a sperm bank and her "swimmers" (that's what we call them) are kept frozen for possible future use. Sometimes we drive past the building where they are and she tells me she pays rent for the little devils to stay there. Too funny.

The list of costs could go on forever. Some of them happen, some of them don't. Each of us experiences our own costs, in our own ways. This essay was never meant to be an exhaustive list. It was meant to share experience gained the hard way so others can make better decisions or at least go into them with their eyes open.

This essay was also not about the flip side of the coin: Benefits/Rewards. If I were to read this list of costs at the front end of my transition it would have scared the sh*t out of me. Really. There's nothing here none of us probably doesn't already know anyway but once you put them in a list and see them for what they are it can be appear to be more daunting than you originally thought.

Actually, the Reward side is harder to quantify. What is is worth to go into a restaurant and have the maitre d say, "Good evening, ma'ma"? What is it worth to go to the hairdresser, or to be accepted finally as your authentic self? Some would say that these simple pleasures are worth ALL the costs. It's like one of those Visa commercials, "The feeling of finally living as your authentic self? Priceless." Personally, I couldn't agree more.