I used to work as an electrician, and a damn good one too. I've led teams of ten all the way up to thirty. I used to get called in to troubleshoot and fix the boy's mistakes. I owned my own home improvement business at 18. I've been called on to design electrical risers and circuit design and did load calculations to submit to engineers for certification. And I've completed two years of an engineering degree, and had professor after professor recommending me for jobs at my college and to STEM competitions to represent my college. I've had experience in property and office management and in bookkeeping. I've prepared financial statements and drafted legal notices, and analyzed and fixed loads of errors made to accounts by previous management.
But when I transitioned I lost most of everyone I ever new. I was kicked out of my home by my confused and manipulated ex-wife just after changing my name. My car just happened to die on me so I had no transportation. I had references withdrawn. No employer would work with me. And I had kids to feed in addition to my own problems.
So I started using the one thing I had, the fact the I was a transsexual. It wasn't long before I found a transsexual club in Miami and began stripping, and then prostituting. I was offered nearly a thousand dollars to do a porn shoot, each by two separate companies--which I scheduled and almost did, but eventually rejected because I just couldn't let that be on the internet, no matter what I was already doing at the club--so don't get your hopes up. The guys that I worked for at the club told me I'd never find a legitimate job again--that it was impossible--they see it all the time.
My father, knowing full well I was prostituting myself just to get by, treated me like I had always been a contemptible leech when I asked him for a little money to help me get on my feet, made me sign a contract to borrow money from him, and told me not to ask for help again until I had paid it back (wait--hadn't I just a year ago been one of the most celebrated students at my college, and hadn't I once held all the positions mentioned at the outset?).
I was suddenly saved by the fact that my boyfriend and former wife got together--wait, WHAT?!!--and offered me a place to stay--ok, what the F-?!!--I know, but this guy helped me quickly get a job. He went to a department store dressed in his army sergeant's uniform, lying and saying I was his wife, that he was about to deploy, and I needed a job. And I got the job as a cashier.
Finally I had a break... right? Nope.
The same guy, my ex-boyfriend, is abusive; yells at me for feeling depressed about my living situation, breaks parts of the house, intimidates me verbally and physically--treating me like an object or slave--verbally threatening my life on three separate occasions, and as I try to defend myself when he gets in my face, threatens me again and calls me a worthless piece of shit and tells me I'm selfish for turning on him after how he helped me.
And at work... well, its a department store you can't expect much. And I didn't expect much. I was so beaten down I didn't even really remember who I was or where I had been. I really began to believe I had nothing better in me and had never been anything more than cashier making minimum wage at a department store. Everything seemed so far away. Friends at work could tell I was being abused. They told me I didn't have to take that from him. Really? They didn't know the whole situation. They didn't know I was trans. They thought he was my boyfriend. They didn't know I was mostly staying there to make sure my kids were ok until the confused mother came to her senses. Who was going to help me? The state? Are you kidding? This is Florida! And where am I going to rent with my pitiful part time wage? They were right though. I couldn't just keep going like that. And I had come too far to give up and kill myself now.
It wasn't a glamorous self-rescue. Nothing to put in the paper. I quietly saved my money (the guy was always trying to make me pay for more expenses whenever he found out I had more money) and was finally able to buy another car and not be dependent on him for rides. I saved more, and soon I was out.
I guess the point here is that the tears I cry while writing this entry are not yet tears of joy that I'm no longer there. Its sadness after being out of that hell a few months and remembering, this isn't all I am. Its frustration knowing that all of this happened because people with the power wouldn't give a perfectly well experienced and trained transgender woman a decent job and caused her to be dependent on some very dangerous people.
Its resign that women still make less than men, and exasperation that its considered ok--normal--to be expected--even by other women.
Its pity and maybe a little guilt that even people close to me that have tried to be supportive with my decision to transition still say things like, "You're starting a new life." No I'm not. I'm not starting a new life. I had a life before this, and I had experiences and accomplishments I was proud of. Just because I admit I identify as a woman doesn't mean I'm suddenly a blank slate. I was a woman when I was a construction electrician, even though I hated that job. I was a woman in college, trying to move up to something better than construction. I was a woman as a property manager. I was a woman when my ex wife gave birth to my babies--and no, I won't just write them off as part of an old life.
To the pigs out there, and those that equate being feminine with being weak, or those that think the existence of trans women supports traditional gender roles: Just because sometimes I like to look more feminine and wear cuter clothes and makeup, does not suddenly mean my intelligence is the inverse of my boob volume. It doesn't suddenly mean my blonde hair color dictates my ability to think. It just means that I'm happy and hope to move forward with my life, thank you very much.
Well, I am moving forward now. I've been able to return to college so I can complete my degree and I'm exploring more opportunities. I know what type of woman I am. I am a conqueror as well as a nuturer. I have so much more to give this world than what I have been pushed into. There's still that recovery road to travel, but with each step I'll get stronger.
To the single mothers out there. Don't stop trying. Keep trying to move up and create a better life for those babies, because you can if you believe in yourself.
To society. Shame on you. You can do better than this too.
