Barriers to Passing

Being “passable” means that a transsexual can pass for the opposite sex (i.e., their true gender) amongst people that aren’t aware. If I go out shopping and get called “ma’am,” mission accomplished. If I get called “sir,” then I’m not passable enough.

Major barriers to passing for an MTF:

• Adam’s apple
• Facial hair
• Voice
• Lack of hips
• Lack of breasts
• Wide shoulders
• Height
• Facial structure (particularly eyebrows, nose, jawline)

Of these, I can usually get around facial hair (by shaving often), lack of breasts (by stuffing), facial structure (by being relatively androgynous, luckily), and lack of hips (by being so skinny that it looks like I have hips).

Wide shoulders and height aren’t major tip-offs. There are plenty of tall women, and most people don’t notice shoulders. However, having a larger-than-average Adam’s apple and a deep voice are major problems for me.

My Adam’s apple wouldn’t bother me so much if it didn’t stop so abruptly. I practically have a little ledge at the top. This means that it catches the light, which draws attention to it. See the problem? Girls don’t have those. They are definitively masculine.

As a temporary solution, I wear lots of scarves when I’m trying to pass. They look reasonably fashionable—and practical, too, since it’s getting cold—and cover up my Adam’s apple as long as I ruffle them up every now and then.

More permanently, I can get a surgery called a tracheal shave. It’s exactly what it sounds like—the doctors open up your throat area and cut off some of the cartilage of your Adam’s apple. This is relatively safe procedure, though of course there are some risks. In rare cases, it leads to a loss of speech, but that only happens when the doctor goes too far and takes too much. The less you get shaved, the less risk. I want to get a trach shave eventually.

Now, my voice is a much more difficult challenge. There’s no kind of clothing that I can wear to cover up the way I sound. I can make my voice higher, of course, but that sounds very fake at this point.

There are two ways to overcome the vocal gap: surgery or voice training. I’ll talk about surgery first.

Voice surgery is much riskier than a tracheal shave. It involves opening up the voice box and—if I remember correctly—tweaking the tautness of the vocal cords themselves. There’s a very real risk of losing one’s voice during this surgery, which is why I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

Now, the other option is vocal training. This is nonsurgical, risk-free, but more difficult for the transwoman. Basically, you talk to a vocal coach and they help you develop a more feminine voice through a long series of exercises and lots and lots and lots of practice. This is the option that I will be taking whenever I get the chance.

Luckily for MTFs, there is no anatomical limit on how high a voice can go, but there is one on how low it can go. In other words, an anatomical male can raise his voice to the sky, but an anatomical female can only lower it so far. It’s all a matter of training and endless practice.

I’ll get there, eventually.

Incidentally, I’m leaning more and more towards naming myself “Liana,” not “Alexandria.” Alexandria was my default, as it is the feminine version of my birth name, but I don’t want to keep “Alex” so much anymore. I’ve been Alex for 16 years—I’m going into the world as someone new, and I think my new name should reflect that.

Life is good.

A Further Discourse on the Matter of Naming

First: My psychiatrist appointment has been rescheduled for December 4th. Expect a blog about that for that weekend, not this one.

Right, so, on to the topic of this entry: my name.

I've been having a heck of a time deciding on my new name. Most transsexuals choose to change their name, either legally or de facto, and I'm no exception. The problem I'm having is what I'm going to change it to.

My birth name is Alexander. That presents a lot of obvious choices: Alexis, Alexandra, Alexandria, Lexie, et cetera. Of these, I prefer Alexandria. I don't think that I want to use one of these, though. For sixteen years, I have been Alex, a son of my parents. I'm not a son anymore. I'm a daughter. Still being called "Alex" makes me feel like I haven't moved beyond my birth gender.

So, now the entire realm of naming is open to me. I can call myself anything I want. That's a lot harder than it sounds--trying to choose one name that defines who I am as a person is very difficult. It's easier to name a baby--you don't have to worry about their personality ("oh, you don't seem like a Delilah, you seem like a Rebecca!"), you don't have to worry about people they know with the same name ("You can't be Crystal, that's too close to Krista!), that sort of thing.

Here's the top of my list right now:

* Rose
* Liana/Lianna
* Alexandria (Allie) (This is here mostly to appease my parents)

I've crossed out:

* Marina
* Allison
* Autumn
* Miranda (Mira)

I've been asking all sorts of people (only those who I'm out to, of course) for suggestions, and everyone has an opinion. The Internet has been searched for many an hour, looking for the perfect name. I think I want it to start with an "L," which is a beautiful feminine letter.

There's so much to consider! How will it be shortened? What are jokes that could be made about the name? How do you spell it? Is it feminine enough? Do I know anyone who has the same name? Is it a good name? What does it mean? What language is it from? How common is it? Will people take me seriously?

So much to think about!

Life is good.

Christine Jorgensen

It’s important to know where you came from. In my case, specifically, the ‘development’ of transsexualism.

The first famous transsexual in the United States was George Jorgensen, later Christine Jorgensen. In the 1950s, she was one of the pioneers. Even though the Germans had first started experimenting with sex reassignment surgeries in the 1930s, Christine is generally regarded as the “first” modern transsexual.

In a time where they hadn’t even really recognized transsexualism as a condition, Christine did a lot of independent research. Without any consultations from doctors, she managed to figure out that she needed to take hormone replacements—specifically, estriadol. While doing medical research into her condition, she discovered that doctors in Denmark might be able to help her.

While there, she met an endocrinologist, Dr. Christian Hamburger. They worked out a deal—she could get her treatment for free, but she would essentially be a guinea pig, since the treatments for transsexuality were highly experimental.

Long story short, it worked. Along the way, she met Dr. Harry Benjamin, and together, they came up with the Standards of Care, the governing law for transsexual treatment.

When she came back to the United States, her story had been leaked to the press—“EX-GI BECOMES BLONDE BOMBSHELL,” as one newspaper so tactfully put it. Christine used this newfound fame both as a source of income and as a way to increase public sexual tolerance.

It’s really interesting, reading her autobiography. I’m just thinking, “if I didn’t have the Internet, if I didn’t know that my condition wasn’t one-in-a-trillion, what would I do?” Could I have independently discovered the things she did? Would I have figured out that I needed to take hormones? Could I have found doctors willing to take on my case?

So, thanks, Christine Jorgensen, wherever you are. If not for you, there’s no telling what state transsexualism would be in. Cheers!

Life is great.

Of Hormones and Medicine

Funny things, hormones. Everybody needs them, but they sure can cause a lot of problems.

Traditionally, the first step of the anatomical transition from male to female is hormone replacement therapy (HRT). A combination of testosterone blocker (anti-androgen), progesterone, and estrogen results in the following:

Medically:
• Breast development (full development takes several years) [Whoo! No more stuffing!]
• Decrease in sexual drive, sterility [Oh well. It’ll be worth it.]
• Decrease in acne [Why didn’t I start on this years ago?]
• Decrease in muscle mass and strength [As if I’m not weak enough already.]
• Skin becomes softer and smoother [Yummy.]
• Slowing of balding pattern [Good thing, too, males usually go early in my family.]
• Redistribution of fat from abdominal area to hips and buttocks [Loving it.]
Anecdotally, I’ve heard the things screw with emotions like you wouldn’t believe, and there’s also increased risk for certain health issues.

According to the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care, the governing medical code dealing with transsexuals, a potential HRT candidate needs to see a psychiatrist for AT LEAST three months before they can get hormones of any kind, much less estrogen (the most important one).

I’ve got my very first psychiatrist appointment on the 17th of November. That’s really exciting. In the most hypothetical realms, if the psychiatrist and I decide that I’m ready for it, I could be on hormones within four months.

Hormones are a very big step. Not all of the changes are reversible, and that’s why most psychiatrists make patients wait longer than three months before they start.

I don’t know for sure that if the psychiatrist offers it to me that quickly that I’ll jump on it. I’m 99% sure that this who I am supposed to be, but I’m going to give that 1% the benefit of the doubt. You don’t start HRT if you’re not sure. The psychiatrist helps determine that, one way or the other.

Life is good!