Preparing for “D-Day”
(“D” for “Disclosure”)
Stratford on Avon May 2015
After Christmas I decided I was going to live out the rest of my life as a woman on a 24/7 basis. I’m 70 next year and it was ‘now or never’. For nearly 9 months I had been living as a woman at home and when out and about in the nearby towns but had not ‘come out’ to my friends and acquaintances in the village where I live.
I went dressed as a man when I disclosed my transgenderism to my (lady) doctor but took some photos with me, some dating back more than 50 years, so I could satisfy her this wasn’t just a recent phenomenon and that I hadn’t gone doolally because of my wife’s death early last year. She was bowled over by the photos and asked me if I would give her make-up lessons so she could look 20 years younger too!
She immediately acceded to my request for a referral to the gender identity clinic (GIC) but then she had no option really, as there are strict NHS protocols and guidelines concerning transgender matters. As luck would have it, my local GIC was immediately next door in the ‘cottage’ hospital on the same campus as my doctor’s surgery; wasn’t I a lucky girl? This hasn’t quickened up in the slightest the inordinately slow GIC process though.
She also changed my male name on the NHS records to that of my unofficially adopted female name and the NHS now only knows me as a female named Ms Trines Ward. All correspondence comes in that name. Any male doctor wishing to examine me must wheel in a female chaperone for my protection! Recently I had an emergency operation and the hospital kept insisting I had to be put in a female ward; I only just managed to avoid this as I felt ill women and their visitors would not want to see me in the next bed without wig or make-up! In the male ward I wore androgynous pink and blue short pyjamas but the board above my bed clearly stated ‘Ms Trines Ward—female” as did the labels around my arm and ankle, and the staff punctiliously referred to me amongst staff and patients, as ‘she’ or ‘her’.
Back at the GIC, they informed me it was run by two psychiatrists and I would need a separate assessment consultation with each one before any treatment would be considered. There was a four months’ wait for each session which meant nothing could even begin to happen until October/November! I thought this was completely out of order and I thoroughly read the two main published guidelines (both are on the net):
1. “Good practice guidelines for the assessment and treatment of adults with gender dysphoria” ref CR181 published by Royal College of Pyschiatrists Oct 2013
2) “Gender dysphoria services: a guide for General
Practitioners and other healthcare staff” published by NHS.
These showed me my GIC’s timescales did not comply and some polite but firm letters and phone calls from me got the waits reduced to two months each; still lengthy but within the guidelines. I can understand caution when dealing with tyros in their late teens/early twenties who might not even have ventured out dressed in public but not when dealing with very long in the tooth, fully experienced trans like me who know precisely where and how far they wish to go.
Both psychiatrists concluded I am fully transsexual and were happy to ‘take me all the way’. I’m not so sure. I’m not body dysphoric as far as my meat and two veg are concerned, in view of my age and recent bereavement I’m not seeking another partner, and neither am I gay so as Trines you might say I’m lesbian, so why would I want to lose my ‘wobbly bits’? I think I will be content to present myself as best I can as a woman even if I continue to have things in my knickers that other girls don’t have! Provided I tuck no-one else will know whether I’ve had full reassignment or not. What I want more than anything is feminising hormones so I can have effective facial and body hair removal and benefit from their desirable side-effects although at my age I cannot, unfortunately, expect oestrogen to give me any breast tissue
Meanwhile, I had to tell my three children and their families and then plan going fully public.
Whilst my wife ‘knew’ about me before we married, we agreed to keep it a secret from everyone for the protection both of our children and my wife from the substantial public opprobrium and ridicule they would have suffered, certainly back in the ‘70’s and ‘80’s. Indeed, on leaving home in the early 70’s I tried living full-time as a woman but had to give it up after 6 months because of the immense public hostility I suffered and the impossibility of getting a worthwhile job.
I now needed to inform my children of my condition and of my wish to ‘go public’. This would not be easy—and it wasn’t! I paid for them to have quite expensive sessions with a counsellor experienced in transgender issues and this most definitely helped. All three of them are now fully supportive although my son, in particular, is still having trouble fully coming to terms with the ‘new’ me. Fortunately there is a huge amount of love in my family and we will get there.
In 'Butch Biker Bitch' mode (Transtastic photoshoot Feb 2015)
I have grandchildren by two of them and because they were all terribly upset by the death early last year of their granny, and they still are, my children do not want them to go through another bereavement because of the ‘loss’ of their granddad and neither do they want to risk them suffering cyber bullying so, for the time being at least, I have to be ‘granddad’ whenever I see them. I can do this wearing women’s shoes, trousers and tops so it is not too uncomfortable for me. It is a price I will pay if I have to.
With the children informed and ‘on board’ I was now, at long, long last free to ‘go public’! I had been planning this for several months as I wanted to try and ensure I would have the best possible result in terms of tolerance and acceptance by my local community.
I have lived in my fairly large village, population just over 2,000, for 15 years, 14 of those with my wife. I have actively joined in with the local community, trying always to be nice to everyone, performing and directing with the drama society, secretary of the Twinning Association for many years, socialising in the four pubs, playing and umpiring for the cricket team, helping to organise village fetes etc. In addition, I’ve always had a part-time job as deputy manager of the village’s very busy canal marina, selling boats and organising their big boat rallies and festivals. In addition, as a qualified Boat Master and passenger boat skipper, I give boat handling instruction throughout the inland waterways on my own account.
So I am very well known and, I like to think, well regarded not only in the village but also through the large and widespread canal community. Coming out to all these many hundreds of people seemed to be a fearsome step to take, something I wasn’t sure I could manage.
I could of course always ‘cut and run’ by selling up, moving to a nice little house in a pleasant town somewhere, presenting myself immediately as Trines. This way, I would not suffer any ridicule or shunning by people I knew. True. But the whole purpose of my fully transitioning was to be able to lead a full, entertaining and social life as Trines and to be accepted by and join in with my local community. If I moved away, I would not be known and, as an obvious transwoman, I would not make many new friends at all,. I would be facing a rather lonely remainder of my life.
I didn’t struggle with this decision for very long, I bit the bullet and decided to openly disclose to my village; if it all went disastrously wrong then moving away would be my ‘Plan B’.
Family unity is so important to me I discussed every proposed step with my children and took on board all their suggestions. The doctor already knew, was professionally bound to secrecy and had got the NHS fully on side.
My next step was the vicar. I do have faith but for reasons I will not go into here had never attended the local church except for the occasional wedding and funeral. I knew her well through secular dealings and she had been fantastic over my wife’s funeral. I met her in male mode, told her I would like to start attending church services, that I wouldn’t mind singing in the choir (I knew they were desperately short and had no male voices at all) but there was just one tiny thing, I would be coming as a woman! She was of course amazed by the news (my male persona is exceptionally masculine), bowled over by my photo’s and couldn’t wait to meet the real me which she did a few days later.
She was all for Trines being an active member of her congregation, brought her wardens confidentially on board for briefing on transgender matters so they could counsel any stroppy church members and got her bishop’s backing she could tell anyone who couldn’t freely accept me to clear off and find a different religion! A target date of the first week in June was set and until then I would attend church and sing in the choir as a man and she would subliminally prepare everyone by seeding suitable comments about accepting and loving everyone regardless of their differences in the texts of her sermons, bidding prayers and in the Village News!
This now left me free to concentrate on my information leaflet. I had decided I would, the week before my transition, go round in drab to see every one of my friends and important acquaintances and tell them what I was proposing to do, show them some current and very historic photos if they wanted to see them, hope I could rely on their acceptance and continued friendship and leave them with an informative and illustrated leaflet which they could pass on to others if they wished. This leaflet went through 6 or 7 draft stages and I was careful to include things my children wanted said. I had 250 of these professionally printed on top quality, thick, glossy bi-folded A4 paper so they could easily withstand being passed around:- (if the type is too small to read, zoom in by pressing 'Ctrl' & '+' together):-
So the last week in May, the week before ‘D-Day’, arrived!
I went round telling all my friends and left them with a leaflet. I saw each pub licensee, leaving half a dozen copies behind the bar as I was bound to be the village scandal for a few days and also got their promises that if any Neanderthals objected to my presence it would be them asked to leave the pub and not me. I had also booked a personal conference that week with my marina owner and his general manager. They had been on tenterhooks for weeks, fearful I was retiring or moving away. They seemed almost relieved when I told them Tony was becoming Trines, it was almost “Is that all? Thank God for that!” Subject to a private preview of the new me they were, as friends as well as equal opportunity employers, happy for me to continue in the role for them, dealing with the public. I’ve had to have new female uniforms bespoken as nothing off the peg was long enough and I made sure everything hugs my breast, waist and hips shapewear tightly. The office girls are green with envy as I look rather voluptuous and sexy—they have already demanded the same made to measure facility!
That Sunday I was not in church as I was managing the marina. The vicar took the opportunity of telling the congregation about me, how from the following week I would always be Trines, and apparently spoke so beautifully and movingly on transgenderism and why I should be embraced by them all, there were quite a few damp eyes in the house. The wardens distributed my leaflets afterwards.
D - Day !
and its Aftermath
The following Monday, 1st June, Trines made her first public appearance in the village and Tony has never been seen since (except of course a couple of times down in London with the grandchildren).
Against all my fears and trepidation my public disclosure and transition has been an absolutely unbelievable success, beyond my wildest dreams. I had told myself that if I could retain the goodwill of perhaps a third of my friends then that would be a good and acceptable result, making staying in the village worthwhile. 30%? It’s greater than 100% as I now have more friends than before because of my transition!
People I’ve not seen before but who have read my leaflet or heard about me have been coming up in the street or pub to shake my hand, commend my bravery and to wish me luck! I’ve had a rather nasty and emergency operation recently and news of this spread with the result that people, many of them my ’new’ friends, were falling over themselves, offering to drive me to and from hospital or to meet family at Rugby station and take them to visit me—a round trip of about 50 miles!
All my neighbours and friends are still very friendly, I can’t accept all the invites round for coffee etc, there are too many of them. I’m really welcome at church and am possibly the only lady bass in a church choir in the country! The church has put me on their fete committee and wants me to be the PA announcer and dog show commentator at the next one. I continue to work at the marina with no adverse feedback whatsoever from the public. I’ve recently been in charge of safety at the big annual historic boat rally, we get thousands of visitors each day, and had to go round telling loads of boat skippers and others what to do (it’s like herding cats with them) - they all know me from previous years but if anything they were all nicer, friendlier and more compliant than they’ve ever been! My boat training business has not dropped off in the slightest, no-one gives my transition a second thought when I inform them. The Twinning Association has asked me to prepare and present their next fund-raising quiz (a big annual event in the village). I’m cast in the next Players’ production, rehearsals start in September. I’m very welcome in all four pubs and am never short of someone to chat to. I’ve been elected a member of a small, rather exclusive group of ladies who meet every few weeks to cattily swap the latest gossip and scandal whilst getting hammered on G&T! I have even been asked if I would like to help out at the community-owned tea shop, serving coffee, cakes and conversation to villagers and passing boaters - which I will do after my current convalescence.
If anything my social life as Trines is better than it was for that person I used to be (what was his name?) and it wasn’t bad for him, so much so I think I am losing the need to meet up with my other trans friends as much as I used to. After all, there is nothing so satisfying as being accepted and socialised by ’normal’ people for the girl you are. I shall of course still get to Pink Punters occasionally as I will to Outskirts in Birmingham and come Hell or High Water I am definitely getting to Sparkle next year after it was so cruelly snatched from me this year by a cancerous tumour.
Those of you who’ve managed not to nod off but are still reading this and possibly thinking of transitioning yourselves at some time in the future, might like to have my views on why I think my public disclosure has been so successful.
1. I decided to brazen it out in the locality where I lived and was known, rather than move to a new location. Had it been necessary to move first then I might have delayed my local transition for a year or two so that I could get to know a fair number of people as a man. That would not, of course, have stopped me cross-dressing at home or from going out further afield in female mode.
2. I was well established and well-known in the locality, joined in community activities and, always trying to be a nice guy, I think I was generally well liked. Whilst having to come to terms with a friend’s transgenderism must be more difficult the better someone has known the person as a man, I think there may be that little more pressure to do so because they are a friend; if they were not or hardly known then, to avoid embarrassment or other difficulties I think people might be tempted to more or less ignore the trans, giving perhaps just a smile if meeting in the street.
3. I took my time and planned well! I had been dressing almost every day since May 2014 at home and when out sight-seeing, shopping or socialising with other trans in towns near and far. I only presented as a man locally when I had to eg for a social function in my village or when I was working in the marina. By the end of the year the urge to go 24/7 was stronger than ever and I realised I had no option but to go for it and disclosed to my GP to get the GIC on my case. I then gave myself 6 months to prepare for ‘D-Day’ (‘Disclosure Day’).
Most reputable websites advise taking disclosure very slowly, telling only a few now, a few more in a couple of weeks and so on. This would not have suited my circumstances. It would have been highly confusing for villagers - and for me - to see me switching between Trines and Tony on a daily basis; it would have to be all, and this would be on 1st June. I brought the vicar on board for genuine reasons but she also was a sounding-board; if she and her wardens had been decidedly ‘iffy’ about it all I probably would have sounded out again with a friend on whom I could rely for discretion or possibly have decided to switch to Plan B (ie ‘cut & run’).
4. I prepared and distributed an information leaflet. I had tremendously complimentary feedback; many thought this had been a master-stroke. Even a lot of my better educated friends confessed to knowing little or nothing about transgenderism despite the number of high profile cases reported in the press over recent months. They said they thought they would have been much less sympathetic over my situation and proposed actions had they not been able to read and think about it. Some said they would have simply put me down as a ’perv’! My history dating back to age 4 was genuinely eye-opening to them and made them really want to help me through my transition. It also worked on people who did not know me. I distributed just under 250 but I know a lot were passed around and perhaps some 500 villagers or more have seen and been quite affected by it. I strongly recommend anyone thinking of transitioning to prepare a similar leaflet.
5. Once I publicly transitioned I really ‘put myself about’. I realised I would need to socialise as much as I could to reinforce my presence as Trines in the village and to get villagers talking to me. I made sure I visited each pub each week at a peak time. I attended village do’s, some of which I would never have gone to previously, just to make sure I was seen and for the chance to chat to others. I went on more walks around the village, canal and marina in order to meet lots of others. I invited many to my place for a coffee and chat which they either agreed to or invited me to theirs instead. I will take this up again as soon as my convalescence permits me and rather nicely, I’ve had quite a few offers to mow my lawns and do other heavy household chores.
The inhabitants of my village have really come up trumps; their generosity of spirit has been truly humbling particularly when you consider that at 6ft 3in without heels (and I always wear heels!) a large, wide frame and a profoundly deep voice, I cannot easily 'pass'.
Whether, in view of my cancer, I will ever be allowed feminising hormones or will ever be offered re-assignment surgery has now paled into insignificance for me now that I am living and being widely accepted as the person I am.
I sincerely hope all other girls who publicly transition have family, friends and neighbours as lovely as mine to deal with.
All my love
x x
By Karen Tea 
By Suzy Whyte 
By Skyler Penny 
By Mia Wallace 
By Trines x x 
