Note from the Editor: This is a guest post about the difficulties trans* people often encounter when seeking medical care.  Medical care can be difficult to navigate in the best circumstances, but when your gender and documentation don’t agree, or your gender presentation and your body clash, it can be not only difficult but emotionally damaging to interact with medical professionals.  Sayer Johnson is a run-of-the-mill Midwestern transgender man trying to navigate basic healthcare and share his human experience.

Reminded

Today I was reminded. Not in the sweet way that comes from a child fusing a new name with a new beard. Not in the quiet acceptance of a neighbor who, without skipping a beat, went from my old name to Papi. Not in the funny way that can come from the mouth of my always insightful six year old. Nevertheless reminded. Reminded in the bitter way that the media often reminds me. Reminded in the unfortunate way that  humanity sometimes does.  Reminded in my own community. Reminded why I continue to live my life out loud.

Today I needed to have a basic medical procedure done. A routine test that is generally though not exclusively geared towards women. I was optimistic that I would continue the blessing of being treated with dignity and respect by living in my own skin authentically.  That I could just to continue to be me and put forth the positive energy and get that in return.  That this beautiful out life I have been living in small Midwestern town would continue to be true and carry me through.

Today that was not the case. Instead today I was reminded. I was reminded why I  avoid anything medical where I have to venture away from my primary doctor. A doctor whom I pay out of pocket to see to ensure that I am treated with dignity and respect. A doctor who does not live in my community. A doctor that was recommended to me from an extensive underground tunnel of information, giving me the knowledge I need to feel safe. Assurance that this physician is cool. They will treat me with dignity and respect. They will treat me as a whole person. The sum of my parts. I am grateful to have my primary medical relationship be a healthy one. A safe and empowering one. I count myself lucky. However, I know that routine medical testing is “guinea pig” time.  It’s always a crapshoot. Will it be the hostile overtones or refusal to use the correct pronoun or chosen name? Possibly the more subtle yet still as painful non-compliments (“Wow I would have never guessed you are really a…”).  The times when the questions come pouring out and instead of holistic care we are once again pulling out our flipcharts and describing the roadmaps of scars that some of us have. Educating when we should be being educated or healed.   Today I was reminded why I constantly fill my Facebook newsfeed with opportunities to get involved. Today I was reminded why I put my blood, sweat, and tears into being a visible presence in our community. Today I was reminded why I am constantly  passing along the opportunity to be involved in a project or an activity or a training. I was reminded why I continue to offer opportunities to educate folks or advocate for others. Today I was reminded why I continue to put myself out there to organize, volunteer, and recruit. Why I try to pull people to the table and coach them and encourage them and learn from them. Why I continue to take time away from my sweet family to do this work that I am not paid to do.  Today I was reminded why I continue to put myself out there even though some individuals in my own struggling Trans* community sometimes criticize my actions or the actions of organizations I am involved in.

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Let me be clear. I do not want your sympathetic comments. I do not want pity. What I want is support. I want this to be a rallying cry.  I want people to show up to these events. I want people to go outside their comfort zones and educate themselves about the Trans* community. I want folks to have uncomfortable conversation to gain insight and understanding. I want to quit preaching to the choir. I want more than the  same 15 awesome  folks that show up to all the Trans* events. I want  folks that I have never met to come out  and hear what we have to say. I want people to work out their transphobic shit in a space designed to do that. Not processing their shit with Trans* folks in vulnerable positions… like when they come out or need support like a basic medical procedure.  I want the doctors and the teachers to come out and learn and build bridges. I want the cops and the emergency response folks, I want the trash collectors and the food service workers. I want the people who chose to stay home to come out. I want parents and aunties and uncles.  I want  gays and lesbians and straight people to come out. I want folks who never questioned their own gender to come out, learn, educate themselves, process, and advocate.

I want my community to stop the infighting and backstabbing and not playing well with others. I want Facebook to stop being a bully pulpit to some. I want folks to stop complaining that stuff isn’t getting done the way they like it and get involved.  I want the keyboard activists to come out from behind the keyboards and join me in the streets. I want folks to show up volunteer and get involved and if they can’t physically be involved than give their money. Donate to the LGBT Center of St Louis,  a welcoming place that has support groups and trainings and safe couches to sit on in a otherwise not always so safe community. A place that actively and intentionally tries to be inclusive.  Or donate to The Transgender Law Center or the Sylvia Rivera Law Project.  Just. Do. Something.

So I was reminded. This morning  was rough. I continue to be very grateful for all the love that surrounds me. I know that because of all that love I am able to turn my hurt and humiliation into energy and fuel. Because of the support system I am a part of with family, friends and community I am able to keep on moving  and do my best to support my community and try to propel us forward. I try my best to be a positive light of my particular Trans* experience, but it’s times like this that remind me that the darkness is what really calls me to stay visible.

-Sayer Johnson