Run infant woman
run as fast as you can in any direction
that seems

AWAY

run till you threaten to drop dead

or

just drop
skinned needs, skinned knees,
runs in your new tights
heels of your palms bleeding
from where you s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
that had been lying in wait for your stumble
hungry for your blood
hungry for your self
—
effacement to bring you
back to this place
so well known

-when you- smart actualized near woman you-
go THERE
and stumble

the asphalt only wins
if
you continue to wear that same pair of tights

(no matter how many times you
s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
the thing that matters most is that you land softer)

I’m a woman with a good amount of male friends. Perhaps it’s because I’ve entered a rather male dominated discipline, and only eight women sit in our class of around 40. I get along with my guy friends; we’re a close knit group of friends. 

For the most part, it doesn’t bother me that I am often the only woman in the room. I hold my own in projects, exams, and heated debates.

However, over the years I have also learned to accept that as close as we may be, my male colleagues and friends will never understand the fear and uncertainty that comes behind being the lone woman in a male dominated world.

There is a constant nagging insecurity in the back of mind, a little voice that implants the thought that perhaps I am not as interesting, smart, witty, or humorous as I think I am.

That my male friends and peers choose to be friendly because there is some underlying motive to bed me.

I do not think that it is narcissistic to realize that one is conventionally attractive or at least, not unattractive to the men around her. It is a sad thought that appearance might just trump all the other wonderful qualities she might possess. It is depressing and demeaning to think that my appearance is the only quality someone might notice.

A close girl friend summed up the experience of what it’s like to date as a model. Some of the men she went on dates with have tuned out her deep analysis of the current state of international affairs, having only one comment after she had demonstrated wit, humor, and a sound knowledge of politics:

“You’re so hot.”

As in, not “your intelligence is very attractive to me” or “I like that you’re into yoga” but simply more along the lines of “your physical beauty is very attractive.” I do not think that women are ungrateful of the compliments that we often receive for our aesthetics like some of my male friends may believe. Rather, I think we are tired of being seen as ONLY being pretty.

That we cannot also be equally intelligent or funny or ambitious in our professional lives.

Although I am not nearly as pretty as my friend and am most certainly not in the modeling industry, I do not think I’m alone when I say that the words that come out of my mouth have been ignored or dismissed so that the guy can focus more on my lips.

I have been cut off in the midst of explaining my political views by a forced kiss, which may seem romantic in movies but only ends up coming across as insulting. It only reinforces the idea that he really wasn’t listening to anything that I was saying.

He was only waiting for a moment to turn on the sexual heat.

So when my male friends complain about attractive girls having an unfair advantage, I want to remind them that it is a double edged sword. While they may have guys offering them free drinks, they also often go unheard on the issues that really matter to them.

Pretty girls can be more than just pretty, but their other qualities are often lost on the people around them. Their worth lies in their personality rather than the physical beauty that they were merely born with. So I urge both women and men everywhere to try and dispel the age old archetype of the dumb pretty girl and the ugly nerd.

Twenty-three years ago my parents were told “it’s a girl.” The doctor marked ‘F’ under gender on my birth certificate, slapped a pink bow on my head and I was off to face the world full of society’s expectations of gender. For the next twenty-two years I lived in a body that never felt quite right. And because of that I was a very quiet and awkward kid who had horrible social anxiety.

My mind has blacked out a lot of my early childhood. The good memories are still there though. Running around the neighborhood with the boys playing Pokemon and Yu Gi Oh. Climbing trees and building forts in the backyard.

I let go of who society wanted me to be and became who I wanted to be.

I had no awareness of gender back then. I never thought of myself as a girl but I didn’t know how to communicate that I felt like a boy. The years went by, my childhood ignorance faded and reality hit me smack in the face when I started middle school and puberty.

I started attending private school in the sixth grade and of course there were uniforms. The girls wore skirts and the boys wore pants. There wasn’t anything more in this world that I wanted than to wear those pants. So I did.

For a week I wore those pants with a smile on my face and confidence in my step. But the more I wore those pants the more I felt different, and I didn’t want to feel any more different than I already did. So the pants went in the closet for the rest of my school days and my identity went with them. From that day forward I told myself I was going to fit in. But that was easier said than done.

Nothing feminine came naturally to me. I was bullied into shaving my legs, I wore my younger sister’s old clothes, I felt awkward in dresses, and I got along better with the boys. For a while I felt invisible. I didn’t really feel like I belonged anywhere and I felt very alone. Seventh grade rolled around and I joined the cross country team. I was a scrawny kid but I found some success in the sport early on. By eight grade I was running with the high schoolers. Running gave me a confidence I had never experienced before. It changed my life. I found myself scoring on the Varsity team during freshman year. When senior year came I was the number one runner and qualified for the track state meet in both the mile and the two mile.

While running was a high point for me, I still had a lot of lows.

Throughout high school I didn’t have many real friends. No one I’d want to actually hang out with outside of school. I never had a feeling of completeness as something always felt missing. I was so terrified of being different by the time I got to college I threw myself into trying to fit in. It was a disaster. College was the first time I had ever tried alcohol. It numbed the pain and my lowest point hit when I woke up in the emergency room with alcohol poisoning on Halloween night.

That was a turning point. I began to let a part of me out that had been deeply hidden for years. I went to online chat rooms and posed as a college boy who went by the name of Jake. I stayed up late at night texting through a video chat with my long hair tucked up under a hat. I talked to a lot of girls and them seeing me as male just felt right. But this also scared the hell out of me.

This didn’t feel normal, it actually felt weird and I never wanted anyone to know my secret. So even though I kept my Jake profile up, I made it a point to present as much as a girl as I could. Almost to the point of overcompensating.

This went on until my last year of college where reality really hit me hard. It was the reality that I couldn’t live in this closet forever. I couldn’t inhabit a body that I could barely look at in the mirror. I took baby steps and came out as a lesbian in October of 2014.

It felt incredibly wrong and like I had gone deeper into the closet.

Slowly I got rid of all my female clothing and began to incorporate male clothing into my wardrobe. I shaved one side of my head and less than a month later just cut it all off. I still remember that day clearly.

I was sitting in the spinning chair at the hairdressers with a black cape fastened tightly around my neck. The hairdresser made a few snips and I watched the long locks that had caused me so much pain, just fall to the floor silently. I looked in the mirror and saw myself for the first time. Twenty-two years is a long time to see a stranger every time I looked in the mirror. But as silly as it sounds, that haircut changed my life.

Because I was still competing on the women’s track team I chose to wait until after the last meet of the season to disclose my secret. The few months before I came out were difficult. I was presenting as a lesbian but attracted to straight females. It was an internal struggle that ultimately led to multiple heartbreaks. But it made me strong and confident because I knew who I was no matter what anyone else told me.

The last track meet was in mid-May and my parents were attending. So I made plans to tell them that weekend. I had already come out to one of my roommates, a few friends, and my sister. All had gone well up to that point, but I was still terrified this would not go so smoothly. It was Mother’s Day so I had bought my Mom a gift and brought it to my parents’ hotel room.

In the bottom of the gift bag I had shoved two letters that I had written detailing my coming out. My Mom opened the gift and then I showed her the letters at the bottom of the bag. They each took a letter and sat on the bed and began reading. I was on the other bed sitting beside my sister having a huge panic attack inside.

It took them a few minutes to read the letters and once they were through there were tears. To this day I still don’t think they entirely knew what my intentions were with transitioning but it didn’t matter because they told me they would support me no matter what.

The confidence I gained from having their acceptance was incredible. Now I won’t say it was a smooth process but I believe I was very lucky to have had such an open and loving support system.

Losing a daughter was not easy for my Mom.

She took her time to grieve, which I let her do. It was a very emotional time for her. I began seeing a gender therapist and she wrote my letter for testosterone after a month of weekly visits. I scheduled an appointment with the endocrinologist the next day and received my first shot of testosterone on June 10, 2015. My family made an agreement to switch pronouns and begin calling me by my preferred name after my first shot.

So I came home and was greeted by my Dad who shook my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Jeffrey”. For my Dad it just seemed to click with him that he had a son. My sister said she never felt like she had a sister anyways. And my Mom, well she had a hard time letting go of Jennifer and welcoming Jeffrey. But everyone deals with this differently and that is completely okay.

After starting testosterone I still couldn’t bring myself to look in the mirror unless I had my chest tightly bound in a binder. This was turning into a bigger and bigger problem as I was finding it hard to move forward in life while my chest was always in the front of my mind. After weeks and weeks of my parents asking every day what I planned to do with my life I sat them down for a talk in early October.

I could feel the sweat dripping down my back as I nervously explained the problem. I told them top surgery was what I needed to do before I could move forward in any meaningful way. They agreed and I set a date for top surgery with Dr. Charles Garramone. I went under the knife on November 5, 2015 for my first sexual reassignment surgery to have the two biggest problems in my life removed. A literal weight was lifted from my chest.

I woke up from surgery and the first words that came out my mouth were, “Are they gone?”

This experience has taught me a lot about both myself as well as about others. Before I came out as transgender I thought I would be ridiculed and shunned. I thought I was alone, but in reality there are hundreds of thousands of people just like me. Some of them don’t have the support of their loved ones or even the courage to come out and be themselves.

I graduated with a film degree wanting nothing more than to move out to Los Angles and work in the big film industry there. But lately I’ve been rethinking that and trying to figure out how I can use my love of film and make a difference in this community. After being exposed to all the struggles and hopelessness some people are feeling I feel a sense of duty, a calling if you will, to help my brothers and sisters.

With that being said, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But the future only comes one day at a time. Patience is the key and I can say this confidently from experience. Always remember you are enough. And last but perhaps most importantly, there is absolutely no shame in living an authentic life.

There are some people that are put into your life that are meant to change the path of your existence forever. For me, that person was my grandmother.

Ever since I can remember, going to my grandmother’s house was always such a special treat, even though she only lived about an hour plus some change away in Toccoa, Georgia and we went to visit pretty frequently when I was a child. Toccoa is a super small town: in 2000, the population was 9,323 people. In a place like that, everything seems charming and traditional and somehow just right (and I was thinking that even when I was tiny).

My grandmother seemed to know everyone in the town, and always treated people she knew and had just met with the exact same kindness.

She was the funniest, most thoughtful, most beautiful woman I could have ever wanted to have in my life: so when she passed away in 2014, I was absolutely devastated, and I couldn’t really come to terms with it. She had just been driving a few months prior!

My grandmother was 91 when she passed away, and now that I look back on it, I think that it was so hard for me to accept that she had died because she had been alive for so long and had so many great stories to tell and had touched so many lives that she seemed like an immortal being.

Ultimately, my grandmother passed away from cancer, and this led to my involvement with Relay for Life. My grandma was always very big on philanthropy and doing everything she could to change the world, so I joined with the mentality that she would have loved everything that Relay stood for.

But now that I am into my second semester of Relay, I can now say that I have found a family here.

My committee is only women, and they all feel like the sisters I never had. It’s amazing to think that every single one of us in that group has been touched by cancer either directly or indirectly, and that we all joined with the intent on spreading the word about standing up to cancer and helping in any way that we can to make other people’s lives that have been affected better.

I’m writing about my grandmother’s death as an important moment in my life because through a negative experience, I was able to learn about the positive ways to help people who are struggling with the illness of a loved one, regardless of if the loved one has cancer or not.

Because of my grandmother, I’ve learned that kindness and love are often both the best forms of medicine, and I hope that I am able to spread both through my involvement with Relay for Life.