Sports are largely separated by gender. The same is true for the military. This will slowly change with women being allowed to serve in combat roles. Today, however, if you went to Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego it labels you as male since no women are sent there for training. You cannot talk about boot camp without exposing who you were – your gender assigned at birth – just as discussing your time on submarines or serving in the infantry would out you.

There are many transgender people serving in the military today. We serve in silence. Some of us go to great lengths to hide who we are while in the service. Once out of the service, a lot of us go to great lengths to hide our new gender. After transitioning, we do not want others to know of our past because we want others to accept us for our new gender. But hiding our background creates a whole new set of fears and anxieties.

By gaining the male characteristics that I had always wanted, I lost my history as a woman. It is as if I never existed before my transition. I can no longer share some of my most joyous moments that expose me as having once lived my life as a woman. When someone asks where my daughter’s mother is, I cringe and say it is complicated. I want to tell them that it was me that gave birth to them, but I choose to remain silent. In my silence, I feel guilty that I am doing a disservice to other transgender persons by remaining invisible and passing as male.

I do not voice my transgender status in my local community. It is a personal choice, and I have had to come to terms with it. It is not just me I have to think about; it is my family as well. Being transgender is still stigmatized in society. I know we need to change the hearts and minds of Americans, but the price to pay to make change happen is very steep. Since I am new to this town, I want to gain the community’s respect before I come out. Beyond the city limits, though, I want my voice as a trans man to be heard.

At my daughters’ school Valentine’s Day party, red and pink hearts, balloons and streamers dotted the classroom. My Valentine’s Day sweethearts are my twin daughters. I gave birth to them, yet I can no longer share that joyous moment with other mothers. While watching the kids pass out candy and cards, two mothers were talking about their pregnancy experiences. One spoke of how difficult her daughter was to deliver. The other said she had a pretty easy time. My thoughts raced; I wanted to connect with them, but how could I? I wanted to say having twins was amazing. Feeling both of them wrestle around inside me was such a strange sensation. I wanted to say I had a C-section. That they came early because the doctor accidentally induced early labor. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I am Dad now. And nobody knows that I used to be their mother.

So instead, I said, “We had twins.” That was all I said and all I could say. From there, one mom said her sister had twins and that she used to breast feed them both at the same time. The other cut in and said she just doesn’t know how those mothers do it, and that she has the utmost respect for women who have twins. I wanted to be a part of that magic.
A trans woman veteran named Paula told me,

Those of us who are no longer serving in uniform have an obligation to tell our histories truthfully if we ever hope to change the regulations for those who are in uniform and can’t tell their truths. The public needs to know our stories and putting faces and real people on the issue of ‘transgender service’ will be vital to winning just as it was in repealing ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.’

However, outing yourself is complicated at best.

A friend of mine, an active duty trans man in the Army, tries to embrace his past in hopes that it will help others that are questioning their gender.

I’m trying to embrace myself and my past – both civilian and military. I tell people why I left [the military] and my story, and it outs me. But I want to come to terms with myself in every point of my life, and am hoping that my story helps other people someday…Overall, though, being honest and open seems to be my best bet. I’ve gotten nothing but respect in return…nothing malicious yet.

Explaining one’s past is a personal choice, but the decision nonetheless causes a great deal of anxiety. I am still conflicted about choosing to lose my history as a woman. Hopefully, I will overcome my fears and embrace my past so others can see the true me.

About the Author: Evan Young is originally from Little Rock, Ark. He graduated basic training in 1989, transitioned from a sergeant to lieutenant in 1998, and rose to the rank of Major before retiring in 2013. Evan and his partner currently live in Spring Lake, Michigan with their two children.

Memorial Day weekend is, first and foremost, about remembering those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. It honors the many sacrifices of those who served and who are currently serving.  It lifts up families and friends who have lost loved ones to combat and in the line of duty. It recognizes the best our nation had and has to offer.

Last week, as I have on every Memorial Day spent in D.C., I joined thousands of people who visited Arlington National Cemetery to honor our fallen brothers and sisters by putting some flowers on graves and placing flags.  This year I visited a fallen brother from my home state of North Carolina. He was member of the U.S. Army Military Police Corps, just like I am. I’ve never had the honor of deploying. He did, though, and never made it back.

He lost his life to an IED blast in Iraq, and I attended his funeral back in July of 2011.  Last week, I returned to his plot in Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery during the early afternoon hours to pay my respects.

As I approached Section 60, I noticed a large crowd of people gathering and several black SUV’s. I wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on around me; I was focused on visiting my fallen comrade. The crowd grew as I got closer to his plot. I noticed security officers were present and quickly realized something was going on. Finally, I saw him.

President Barack Obama greets visitors in Section 60 at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Va.,on Memorial Day, Monday, May 27, 2013. Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans are buried in Section 60. (AP Photo / Molly Riley)

President Barack Obama. Standing less than five feet away from me.

Flashbulbs were going off all around me. Cries of, “Mr. President! Mr. President!” clamored for his attention. Eventually I couldn’t go any further – the crowd and the security were too thick. And then I realized I was face to face with my Commander-in-Chief.

I was wearing my ACU uniform. My nametape, D.C. National Guard unit patch, rank, and American flag were proudly displayed where he could see them. The President looked me in the eye, shook my hand, and thanked me for my service. He called me “sir” and “young man.” My hand was shaking afterward, and to be honest, my eyes got a bit teary. I thought to myself, I will remember this, as long as I live, as one of the most profoundly meaningful moments of my life. It only lasted a moment, but even now it’s hard to believe it happened.

I eventually made it to my comrade’s grave site. I spent some time there praying. I prayed for his family, for his unit members. I wished his family could have been there to get that handshake from the President, and so much more.

Now, with LGBT Pride Month upon us I can’t help but think about something else.  The President shook my hand and thanked me for my service. He called me “sir” and “young man.” I wonder what he would say or do if he knew I was transgender. How would he react if he knew that when I enlisted in the Army just over 4 years ago, I had not enlisted as the “young man” that I had always known myself to be. What if he knew that during basic training a thick bun of curly hair rested under my combat helmet and beret, or that during Advanced Individual Training in September 2010 I came out as transgender and decided to live my life authentically, full time as man. What would he say then? What would he do?

Despite the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) in December, 2010, nothing has changed for me. The repeal allowed lesbian, gay, and bisexual service members to serve with integrity.  However, transgender service members still face discharge if they come out or are outed. I am one of them.

I have served honorably for four years. I’ve always gotten along with my chain of command, never failed a PT test, and when I first enlisted, planned on dedicating 20 years of service to this great country. Being a soldier was all I ever wanted to do, since I was a kid.

When Pentagon leaders released a statement on May 31 to commemorate LGBT Pride Month, they noted the service, accomplishments, and devotion to duty of transgender Department of Defense civilians. They clearly and purposefully left out transgender service members – service members like me.

What would President Obama have said when he shook my hand if he had known that very day could have been my last in uniform, my last as a Soldier? How would the President have responded if I had told him I wanted to serve 20 years, or that I dreamt of re-classing to become a helicopter mechanic and a crew chief – but those dreams were being taken from me just because of who I am?

And what would he do if he knew I wasn’t alone? That there are so many of us, all hoping and praying together that we can serve openly before time runs out for us, one way or another.  What if I’d said, “This isn’t just my story Mr. President. It is my friends’ story, my brothers’ story, and my sisters’ story.”

I know how President Obama feels about lesbian, gay, and bisexual service members. He’s been very clear about that. But I wonder what he thinks about the policies that bar transgender people from serving openly. For now, I can only hope that one day the President will say the words “transgender” and “service” in the same sentence, just like I hope that one all day service members will be able to serve honorably and openly and be judged by their capabilities, dedication, and honor, rather than their gender identity.

If I had gotten another 15 seconds with the President, maybe I would have asked him.  Maybe then I would know what he would say to Soldiers like me.

The author of this blog must remain anonymous, since transgender service members are prohibited from serving openly in America’s military.

A warm glow flushes my cheeks, and I reply, “Good morning!” Closer to work a familiar face draws near and salutes; “Good morning, Ma’am.” A heavy feeling of discontent weighs on me, and I return the salute with the grudging reply, “Good morning.”

I am a transgender military officer. Outside of work, I live my life as a man. Once on post, I am female. My short hair and manly features present an androgynous and confusing appearance.

I grew up in Arkansas, and knew that many outsiders perceived women there as “barefoot and pregnant” rednecks. That stereotype drove me to move out of the state and join the Army. I wanted to be on an equal footing with men. I found new confidence along the way as my drive to exceed expectations helped me rise through the ranks. Yet, I always had the feeling of being a second class soldier because of my gender.

Males have confidence ingrained in them at an early age. Men are encouraged to stand up for themselves and speak their mind. When they don’t, they are often labeled effeminate or called derogatory terms such as faggot or princess. The “stereotypical male” role is enforced by men as well as women. A woman speaking to a man that seems effeminate will treat him differently.

I elicited slurs such as “tomboy” or “lesbian” because I was seen as a strong female. Although I wore these labels proudly, I never felt as if I measured up to the boys in my class. As a female, I was encouraged by my parents to play sports and follow my interests in math and science. They were very supportive and allowed me to pursue what I wanted. Society, on the other hand, looked down on my pursuit of more stereotypically male interests. After all, women are expected to want to marry and have children.

I always knew that I was not just a strong woman. I have known from an early age that one day I would grow up and be a man. It wasn’t until the past few years that I came to realize that I could do something about it.

Patriarchal dominance in society keeps women from reaching their highest potential. In the military, denying women roles in combat ensured men always held the positions of highest authority. Women were enshrined as something less, trapped beneath a glass ceiling. This is changing now with Secretary Panetta’s historical lifting of the ban of women in combat. However, the mindset of some will never change. Mitigating generations of dogma about women will take time and effort. Bringing young women up to see unlimited role models and opportunities will be a big part of ushering in the next generation of leading women.

As a trans man, I recognize the male privilege that surfaces when I am recognized as male. I am seen as knowledgeable about the mechanics of my truck even if I have no clue what is causing my starter to not turn over. I can buy a new car without having someone try to pull the wool over my eyes. I can call the plumber, and he speaks with me as an equal. Rebecca Solnit observed this too, and wrote:

“Men explain things to me, and to other women, whether or not they know what they’re talking about…every woman knows what I mean. It’s the presumption that makes it hard, at times, for any woman in any field; that keeps women from speaking up and from being heard when they dare; that crushes young women into silence by indicating, the way harassment on the street does, that this is not their world. It trains us in self-doubt and self-limitation just as it exercises men’s unsupported overconfidence.”

Internalized privilege generates the confidence that I exude when returning a salute after being called “sir”. I have no preconceived lack of ability. I can be called upon to run an operation without my superiors thinking I need help. Sometimes, I think all of this may be just in my head. But then, I’ve seen this first-hand far too many times when male officers were chosen over me even though I was more qualified.

I did not transition to gain male privilege. Some lesbians, however, perceive me as a traitor. Inheriting male privilege is a by-product of transitioning from female to male. Hopefully, one day the world will rid itself of the patriarchal mindset. Women are different than men, but everyone should have the same opportunity to excel. Misogyny has no place in our military, and I am gratified leadership moving to affirm this.

In that moment where I am called “sir”, though, I feel like I can take on the world.

***

About the Author: Evan Young is originally from Little Rock, Ark. He graduated basic training in 1989, transitioned from a sergeant to lieutenant in 1998, and rose to the rank of Major before retiring. In 1998, Evan graduated from Northwestern State University of Louisiana with a B.A. in English. From there, he continued his studies while on Active Duty and graduated from Nova Southeastern University in Florida with a M.S. in Computer Information Management. He earned his public affairs credentials in 2004 and broadcasting management credentials in 2007. He served in the Reserves, Guard, and Active Duty. He was the Hawaii National Guard Public Affairs officer and a Media Officer at NORAD and US NORTHCOM. Evan began transition in 2011. He retired from the Army as a Major in 2013. Since then he began his own web development company and has written for OutServe Magazine as a blogger. Evan and his partner currently live in Spring Lake, Mich., with their two children.

However, as all this was going on, I realized that another situation has gone unmentioned. What happens when the spouse of a military person is transgender? Some might argue that this is a very rare situation, and doesn’t need attention. However, my recent interactions with a number of transgender people associated with the military say that this situation is far more common than people realize.

A few weeks ago a trans woman in the Dayton area sent me a message asking me if I remembered a female colonel I worked for while I was still on active duty. I did, and replied that I liked her because she generally had a good read on who everyone in the command was and what they were doing. What she wrote next blew my mind. “She came out as a lesbian after she retired in 2008. We’re married now.” A little further digging revealed that they had met and gotten married after the trans woman had transitioned. However, because of military regulations and DOMA, the trans woman did not have base access, Tricare, or any of the other benefits the spouse of a retired colonel would normally have.

In short, the military regards them as a same sex couple. But my marriage is regarded as a heterosexual one because I transitioned after we were married, even though in both cases we are trans women married to another woman.

At about the same time, I also spoke with a trans man in the military. He talked about the difficulties he and his boyfriend, a civilian trans man who lives in Washington DC, expect if they get married. Another situation that came up in discussion recently was a trans woman (MTF) I know who is closeted, but on active duty. She is married to a trans man (FTM) who is just starting transition. When the trans man civilian spouse went to medical to start hormone therapy, they refused to treat him unless his spouse came in and verified that she knew what was happening and approved.

Given all of these situations, figuring out which marriages the government will regard as gay or straight is a mind boggling exercise in one of the grayest areas of law. In the case of the retired colonel, the marriage is gay, but only because the trans woman transitioned before the marriage and wasn’t born in Idaho, Ohio, Tennessee, or Texas (where birth certificate gender changes are not legally allowed). However, the two trans men may or may not be a gay marriage, depending if the one in DC changed his SSN gender marker before or after they got married. The trans woman in the military married to a trans man is a heterosexual couple, but the trans man can’t change his gender in DEERS because of DOMA.

I approached four of my friends who practice law in the LGBT community about this, and how the federal government determines if a couple is same sex or opposite sex for the purposes of defining marriage.

I got four different answers.

I did have a long conversation with Jillian Weiss of Lambda Legal, who summed up the situation. It is mostly up to the states to determine whether a marriage is gay or not for federal purposes. Unfortunately, this isn’t very helpful to transgender people, since when it comes to transgender people, marriage law varies radically from state to state. A lawyer in seminal transgender marriage law case of Littleton v. Prange noted in 1999:

“Taking this situation to its logical conclusion, Mrs. Littleton, while in San Antonio, Tex., is a male and has a void marriage; as she travels to Houston, Tex., and enters federal property, she is female and a widow; upon traveling to Kentucky she is female and a widow; but, upon entering Ohio, she is once again male and prohibited from marriage; entering Connecticut, she is again female and may marry; if her travel takes her north to Vermont, she is male and may marry a female; if instead she travels south to New Jersey, she may marry a male.”

Legal reasoning since then has been divided, and has often involved complex constitutional arguments such as the full faith and credit clause. In general, though, for purposes of estate such as In re Gardiner, birth sex has been treated as the gold standard of determining whether or not a marriage is gay.

Jillian also reiterated what I was finding out on my own; there is no such thing as legal gender. There is only legal gender for a specific purpose. I am female on my driver’s license, on my passport, in my civilian company’s personnel database, and with my health care provider. However, because they didn’t offer partner benefits when I started (that changed this year on January 1), I was male for the purposes of my marriage. Just to keep things interesting, I am male in DEERS (the military personnel database) because my spouse is female in the system, and as a result of DOMA, the software will not allow me change my gender in the system.

In the end, no one can seem to agree whether a marriage involving transgender people is same sex or not. But, marriages involving transgender people do happen, and involve the military more than people know. However, until the military recognizes all marriages and DOMA is struck down, the Gordian knot that is transgender marriage law represents a barrier to determining how to effectively integrate transgender people into the military.

My true story begins on my medical retirement date after 15 years of honorable service. Throughout my career, I won awards and received high marks for my dedicated and exceptional work. However, that was not enough to shield me from scrutiny.

Evan Young

I have been the subject of two investigations; each desperate attempts by my commands to sabotage my career prior to the end of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). I’ve sat in a room with an investigator, a blank sheet of paper, and a pen while he pressured me to give up names of friends that I knew were gay.

I refused.

My command has searched through my medical records, looking for proof of me being transgender.

They found nothing definitive.

Being forced to live my life behind a mask left me frustrated with the military. I have faced harassment at every level of my career; a Drill Sergeant trying to take advantage of me in basic training, a First Sergeant forcing himself on me as a lower enlisted, a different homophobic First Sergeant going on a crusade to have me kicked out for being gay, and a Lieutenant Colonel bent on proving that I was transgender.

I have survived them all.

For me, there was no outlet to confide my secrets. Fear of repercussion sealed my lips. Today, there is a network of LGBT soldiers and allies to confide my frustration. OutServe-SLDN provides a much needed support system. I never trusted anyone during my military career, even psychiatrists or psychologists. Therapy simply proved that I had anxiety and depression, but the real reasons were never revealed.

Now that I am retired I feel a tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders. I can be who I truly am and more importantly, I no longer have to hide my family. As a single soldier, it was much easier to hide my feelings and blend in. Having children with my partner brought a whole other level to hiding who I am.

I felt like even more of an outcast after a year of my secret transition to becoming male. It’s not just me that suffered though. My children did as well. I chose to live far away from the military community in order to distance myself from prying eyes. At home, my neighbors have no clue that I was born a female. My children are young and un-prejudiced enough that they accept me unconditionally.

Since starting testosterone my voice has dropped. With it, my children wanted to change from calling me Mommy to calling me Daddy. For them, it was a logical transition. I have a boy brain, and doctors are helping me have a boy outside. After a year into hormone replacement therapy, daddy is a natural designation for them. Unfortunately with that change, I didn’t dare bring my kids anywhere near the military. I avoided any military functions where family participation was encouraged. Shopping at the commissary or post exchange with my kids was not an option. The simple word “Daddy” could have jeopardized my entire career.

I left my life at the gate every day when I came to work. The current policies on transgender individuals affected my career and my military family. Since I chose to stay away, I missed opportunities to build cohesiveness with my unit. Transgender discrimination hurt not only me and my family, but it also hurt my military team.

The cohesion that is built between soldiers in everyday tasks depends upon honesty and openness. It binds an organization together to function as a unified and integrated unit. When parts of that organization were suppressed and I was not allowed to share significant parts of my life, a distance was formed. I never felt as if I was part of the military family. I didn’t feel as if I could count on my fellow soldiers to back me up if I ever came out.

There is no regulation that requires one to go to military functions; however, forming a bond between soldiers is what makes a military family. I never allowed myself to form that bond for fear of being outed as either a lesbian or now as a trans man. Bringing my partner to military events would bring unneeded scrutiny to my personal life before DADT. Lifting DADT allows me to bring my partner to events, but I still am trapped behind my mask. This mask fades every step I make through transition, and I am lucky enough to have found the door to this closet.

***

About the Author: Evan Young is originally from Little Rock, Ark. He graduated basic training in 1989, transitioned from a sergeant to lieutenant in 1998, and rose to the rank of Major before retiring. In 1998, Evan graduated from Northwestern State University of Louisiana with a B.A. in English. From there, he continued his studies while on Active Duty and graduated from Nova Southeastern University in Florida with a M.S. in Computer Information Management. He earned his public affairs credentials in 2004 and broadcasting management credentials in 2007. He served in the Reserves, Guard, and Active Duty. He was the Hawaii National Guard Public Affairs officer and a Media Officer at NORAD and US NORTHCOM. Evan began transition in 2011. He retired from the Army as a Major in 2013. Since then he began his own web development company and has written for OutServe Magazine as a blogger. Evan and his partner currently live in Spring Lake, Mich., with their two children.

Losing the opportunity to serve in the military because I am transgender was heartbreaking. Finding a way to serve again was thrilling.

Erika Stetson

It wasn’t exactly the same as rejoining the military. I did, however, have to re-establish my security clearance, qualify on standard weaponry, and receive a full issue of uniforms and body armor before traveling overseas to Kabul to serve alongside U.S. and NATO troops.

The path I took isn’t widely available, and the bar was set very high. It helped that I had 10 years of relevant private sector work history and five years of military experience before that. I also held a bachelor’s degree. I was ultimately assigned a civilian pay grade with an approximate rank equivalent to a major, though civilians don’t have command authority or take part in offensive combat operations.

I was also asked to undergo additional medical review because of my transition. The transition-related medical treatment I’ve received undoubtedly played a role in the determination to allow me to serve. The military took these assessments into account when settling my billeting. I was housed without a roommate when space allowed, otherwise I was billeted with women. Never once did this cause a conflict – things went smoothly while traveling, when staying in multi-person housing, and when using shared shower or bathroom facilities.

Several of my colleagues knew I was transgender, including CEW administrators, and at the deployed site, my supervisor, coworkers, personnel officials, legal officials, and billeting officials. I disclosed my situation to few others, because, just as when not deployed, there is no particular reason to do so except in the context of a long-lived and trusting friendship. In my chain of command, I know the chief of staff was aware at a minimum. Near the end of his tour, I thanked him personally for helping create the opportunity for me to serve again.

Legal and HR officials made it clear to me once I arrived at the deployed location that any cases of discrimination would be taken seriously and handled appropriately. No such issues occurred, and for all practical purposes, my gender immediately became as inconsequential as everyone else’s. Even if anyone did suspect I was transgender, from pre-deployment training onward, there was not a single incident. That went for my interactions off post as well, with both Afghans and other NATO service members. I was always treated professionally.

Overall, my tour was a personal and professional success. I accomplished a variety of projects and was presented with several awards, including the Army Superior Civilian Service Award and the Joint Civilian Service Achievement Award.

We have seen significant progress for the LGBT community in the military. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) has ended, but there are still significant regulatory and policy barriers that must be overcome before qualified transgender Americans are free to serve. Yet, the repeal of DADT has helped create a more inclusive mindset in the military, which aids our cause. I can’t say with certainty whether my deployment was the first of its kind, but I hope the positive nature of the experience helps convince the Department of Defense to extend the opportunity to others who have the capability and desire to serve.

I regard military service as a privilege and honor, so it didn’t bother me that returning to duty as a transgender person meant additional layers of medical evaluations and other considerations. Rather, the fact that I was ultimately cleared to go reaffirms my faith that the American ideal of equality of opportunity remains strong. This is not to say that transgender people are on equal footing or should stop working to expand opportunities to serve—the United States is still far behind Canada, for example. But I feel my deployment is a positive and hopeful sign. It will take time for acceptance; militaries will always be cautious and slow to change. It’s intrinsic to institutions that engage in high-risk operations.

In the end, it falls upon us to prove that having transgender people in the ranks has no detrimental effect on the force’s ability to accomplish its mission. The idea that the burden of proof should be on us may be insulting to many members of our community. That’s understandable. But we are more likely to win the changes we seek by going beyond the mere demand for change and showing our quality. Dialogue is most productive in an atmosphere of mutual respect and proven capability.

***

Reserve recruiters dream of people like Morgan Wade walking into their office. She had a sterling service record, was on the fast track to chief petty officer, and qualified in a field where the demand for skilled individuals is high. Top it off with a clear background check and a clean bill of health, and it should be easy, right?

The problem: Morgan Wade is female now, but that is not what was on her original birth certificate. It wasn’t what was in her records when she joined the Navy. Even before she joined the Navy, though, Morgan was already dealing with gender dysphoria. She treated it as something chronic but manageable.

“The first time I figured out I had body image issues was actually before I joined the Navy, though at that point I didn’t know what it was or meant,” she said. “I just tried to ignore it. At that moment in my life, I didn’t know what I could do other than just try to deal with it the way I always had.”

Joining the Navy

Morgan’s father, Mark, saw someone looking for a calling and not just a job. “Diving is Morgan’s passion,” he said. “She was not happy at Chico College and spent her summer vacation on our sofa just watching TV. When we told her to go out and get a job, she went to military recruiters and decided on the Navy… Morgan found the dive program and pushed for that.”

Morgan saw a great opportunity: “I wanted money for school and needed some time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”

When it came to her dysphoria, she counted on her newfound endurance. There were hard times early in her Navy career, but those hardships also reinforced her confidence in her own abilities. “At my first command, I was treated so badly, and hazing was such a regular thing that I sort of figured that if I could survive that, I could deal with my own personal issues.”

Despite the hardships, she loved her job. “When I was diving, nothing else in the world mattered. It didn’t matter how bad things were topside. As long as I got to be in the water it was a good day.”

She was stationed on the USS Safeguard, a salvage ship based in Sasebo, Japan. “Being that it was a small ship, and the cruise was an independent steamer, I got to go to a lot of small ports that the rest of the Navy doesn’t normally go. I loved the travel on that ship.”

Unfortunately, during the time on board the USS Safeguard, Morgan’s dysphoria began to catch up with her. “I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to be able to deal with my gender issues indefinitely. I did, however, make the decision to make it to the end of my contract.”

Falling in Love

After returning from Japan, Morgan met her future spouse. Katie described meeting Morgan: “We met online on a singles/friends website. We seemed to have a lot of common interests, but I think above all we were both thirsty for friendship on a deep level, and Morgan seemed lonely.”

The online, friends-first nature of the relationship led Morgan to believe they were unlikely to meet. With no expectation of romance, she opened up about her dysphoria. “I told her online, so she knew that much about me from the very start. I didn’t really know her at the time, there wasn’t the same sense of risk that I got with coming out to friends and family.”

This marked the first time Morgan had come out to anyone. She was rewarded with Katie’s unconditional support. “It was more or less a non-issue to her.”

Morgan moved to Washington, a few hours from Katie. “We had talked online for a little while, and Morgan said she was bored one weekend,” Katie said. “I invited her out to hang with me and my friends at a nightclub. Morgan hopped a ferry and came right over, and within five minutes of us being in each other’s presence, we felt very comfortable, as if we had known each other our entire lives. Morgan ended up staying for the entire weekend, and we ended up falling in love.”

Dysphoria Takes Hold

Katie could see how the dysphoria affected Morgan. “She tried very hard to be optimistic, but she was incredibly lonely. Ultimately, the Morgan I met was sort of locked in place by her choice of desperately trying not to reveal her true self at work or to those around her.”

They married in February, 2007. Katie went in knowing Morgan would finish out her time in the service, then transition. “It was a fun time, as we were in our honeymoon phase.” Still, Morgan sometimes talked of trying to tough it out to retirement, Katie said. “She kept fighting with herself saying that if she just stuck it out, she could retire. But I could see how damaging it was for her to have to be a man every day… She had come to terms with the idea that she could finally be herself at some point.”

Increasingly, Morgan struggled at work. “Toward the end of her ten-year career, she started to feel overwhelmed,” Katie said. “She had to put up with misogynistic jokes in the dive locker and jokes about her ‘putting on weight’ when she was on estrogen. Morgan hated the male part of herself and hated changing in front of other people. She had to face that daily as a diver.”

Still, it wasn’t always bad, and the solace that diving offered was what tempted Morgan to stick it out to retirement. “Some of her best days were when she got to dive and see neat things along with doing her job. She feels most at peace underwater, so at least the Navy offered that,” Katie said.

Morgan’s burden also weighed heavily on Katie as time went by. “I was the first person she openly told in person that she was trans. I was the person she spent almost every day with up until her Gender Reassignment Surgery (GRS), and I can say that it is a very heavy weight to carry. Where trust goes, there follows a huge amount of responsibility.”

Taking the Leap

Katie was convinced Morgan could not continue with the Navy or to even live as a male. “She had to pursue herself in a much more dedicated, in-depth way than she was able to do in the Navy.”

Morgan finally began getting help and taking positive steps towards dealing with her dysphoria. She sought psychological and medical services outside the Navy medical system, and in the process risked the consequences of violating UCMJ Article 92 and an administrative discharge.

Morgan also took the step of getting a prescription for Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT). It was easier than might be expected. “I got a recommendation from my therapist for a doctor out in town, and he prescribed them for me. I actually brought him my military medical records. He even charged me less because I made his job so much easier.”

She began HRT six months before she left the Navy, and the positive effects were noticeable. The changes helped her feel at peace, happier, and easier to communicate with. The depression lifted.

“I understood completely and put everything I had worked for over the last two years on hold to cope with transition,” said Katie, who paused her efforts in nursing school to support her family. “I was prepared to be the bread winner. We were scared of how hard it would hit us financially. She was so sad to not get to dive almost every day. I’m very disappointed she never got to make chief, because she was a shoo-in.”

Despite the necessity of leaving the Navy, it was still hard for both of them. Katie described it as a grieving process. “The Navy gave her a sense of pride, accomplishment and identity. Being a Navy diver was a very large part of who she is. Diving is something that gave her the confidence that only a job you’ve done for 10 years at the top of the pack can do. Leaving the Navy was almost like mourning the loss of a friend.”

Morgan left the Navy in 2010. She gave up a $45,000 selective reenlistment bonus, a promotion to chief petty officer, and the diving she loved.

Transition

About three months before leaving the Navy, Morgan came out to the rest of her family. Her brother just thought she was gay. “My mom sat me down with the psychiatric Diagnostic and Statistical Manual and tried to convince me I was just depressed,” she said. “Now, I think she’s accepted that I’ve done the right thing, even if she doesn’t really understand it.”

The news surprised her father. “Sara and I were shocked when Morgan told us. I wondered what I had or hadn’t done during Mo’s upbringing to cause it. We are still having problems with pronouns.” Both of her parents tried to dissuade her from leaving the Navy. “We were not happy with her decision. She had ten years invested in a career field that she loved. She was so good at what she did.”

Yet, over time, Mark made a discovery about his newfound daughter. “I have realized, no matter what the outer wrapper is, Morgan is still Morgan after transition.”

When the opportunity to live as a woman finally came, she did not waste any time. “I went full time while I was on terminal leave. That was less than a month after my last day at work. I figured I was already going through so much change, what’s a little more?”

She used her educational benefits to go to culinary school. “Morgan has always been a creative, mad scientist in the kitchen,” said Katie.

At the same time, Morgan went to the Department of Veteran’s Affairs (VA) for access to psychological services and continued access to HRT. The VA benefits were a blessing, given the financial difficulties they were having. “We went from making very good money to us being afraid every day that some service was going to be disconnected since we couldn’t pay the bill,” Katie said.

The process of transitioning wasn’t easy on Katie either. “It has been an emotional roller coaster. I was so glad she was finally finding herself, and I think that is what the transition is all about. It has been a humbling journey, but it almost broke us right before her GRS. I felt like I had a big responsibility, and I tried my best not to let her down.”

After a clean bill of health from the VA, Morgan and Katie scraped up enough money to pay for GRS. By December 2011, her transition was complete. In every legal sense of the word, Morgan was female, and her body and soul were finally aligned.

The effects were profound. “She has grown into a woman with so much strength and courage, who is more outgoing, who is more self-possessed and feels more at peace with herself than I have ever seen her,” wrote Katie. The therapists with the VA agreed. They concluded she no longer had any reason to see them since her dysphoria was gone, she wasn’t depressed, and she was well adapted to her new life.

Trying to Re-enlist

With her life back together, Morgan wanted to try to re-enlist in the Navy. “I decided to try to get back in once DADT [Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell] was repealed. I knew I would have to get a waiver, but figured I could prove that I was more fit to serve now than I was when I got out.”

That recruiter she found was Petty Officer 2nd Class Kevin Campbell of Navy Recruiting Station Everett, Washington. Where others saw a hopeless cause, he saw an opportunity for continued service. “It is my job to help transition prior-service personnel into the Navy Reserve. Ms. Wade was no exception. I will do my best and continue to help every veteran re-affiliate that I can,” Petty Officer Campbell said. It didn’t hurt that Morgan was up front with the situation from the beginning. “Ms. Wade was very honest, sincere, and overall a pleasant person to speak with.”

Morgan went through exam after exam to prove she was mentally and physically fit to serve. “It seemed like every time I gave them one piece of paper, they would ask for two more. Eventually, they accepted the doctors at the VA examining me and clearing me.” In the end, all of the doctors, psychologists, surgeons, psychiatrists and therapists declared her fit to serve. The package she submitted was almost 150 pages long and documented her exemplary prior service and current fitness.

When her application was denied without explanation in August of this year, Morgan wanted to know why, so she asked for help from her congressman, Rep. Jim McDermott. His office pressed the Navy for answers and received one several weeks later:

“Standards preclude from acceptance those individuals with contagious or infectious disease who would be likely to endanger the health of other personnel; those who are likely to require repeated admissions to sick list, prolonged hospitalization, or invalidating from service; or those who present any condition that would be likely to form a basis of a claim for physical retirement benefits. The standards, therefore, are intended to define a degree of physical fitness in applicants that best meets the Navy’s needs and yet incur an acceptable minimum risk of liability in regard to health hazards, repeated or prolonged medical care or hospitalization, assignment problems, and eventual pension or retirement benefits … To authorize Ms. Wade’s enlistment in the Navy would expose her to increased risk or injury.”

None of the reasons given by the Navy made any sense to Morgan or her family. Gender dysphoria isn’t a communicable disease, she doesn’t need more medical care than any other woman, and the law specifically prohibits treatment of dysphoria as the basis for retirement benefits. The diving community is open to both men and women, so there was no reason to believe that her gender would lead to unacceptable risk of injury.

“The rejection notice was ridiculous,” said Katie. “I actually ended up laughing for a good five minutes at it.”

Her father was similarly unimpressed with the Navy’s explanation. “We heard her congressman sent a letter explaining the reason she wasn’t allowed back was because she was no longer capable of performing the duties of the job. I have no idea where that came from, and I am angry with whomever was involved with that decision.”

When Morgan heard the waiver was denied, she simply felt sad. After receiving the explanation, her frustration simmered over. “Now I’m more frustrated and mad. Every doctor that has seen me says there is no physical reason why I shouldn’t be able to serve. Every therapist and psychiatrist that has seen me says that I am healthy and well adjusted.” For Morgan, it begged the question of why she needed doctors and psychiatrists to examine her examinations if the Navy wouldn’t follow their recommendations anyway?

Life Goes On

Yet, life goes on for Morgan and Katie. Budgets are still tight; they still have to finish getting Katie through school. Morgan’s family is still adapting to her transition. Still, they can’t help feel that Morgan and the Navy would both be better off together.

“They spent a lot of money to train her, and she proved herself amazingly and boundlessly worthy of that investment. She gave 150 percent of herself to her job,” Katie said. “It seemed like a no-brainer that she would be an even better diver now that she has nothing to hide.”

Despite rejection, Morgan remains optimistic that someday she will be able to reenlist. “I’m hoping that the new [Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association] and the changes regarding gender dysphoria will make it easier to argue that I am healthy and able to serve. I want to finish my career. I loved the job, serving my country and the community. It hurts to be denied that opportunity.”

Cyprus and the Republic of Vanuatu are, literally, a world apart from each other. Cyprus is one of the largest islands in the Mediterranean, and Vanuatu is a tiny chain of South Pacific islands. Cyprus has been at the center of world affairs and great conflicts dating from the legendary battles between the ancient Myceneans and Persians. Vanuatu, not mapped by Europeans until 1768, didn’t even get caught up in the Pacific campaigns of World War II. Cyprus is arid with diminishing water reserves. Vanuatu tries to not to drown from 15 feet of rainfall per year. Cyprus is cosmopolitan. Vanuatu relies on agriculture and tourism to boost a limping economy with negligible natural resources.

What do these places have in common? In short, the answer is drugs, the kind transgender people desperately need for transitions but often are unable to obtain through normal channels. Because of a lack of laws governing requirements for prescriptions and lax regulations on what can be mailed overseas, these two island nations are the source of most mail-order hormones obtained by people trying to transition. As a result, online pharmacies have become a cottage industry in both these nations.

Green Bay, Protaras Cyprus, is an awesome dive site with year-round ideal conditions. There are a few sunken manmade statues ideal for underwater phtography.

Trans people trying to get Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) through normal channels have to jump through many hoops. The World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) publishes the Standards of Care (SOC) for people who transition. Because the SOC recommends psychotherapy and referral prior to a physician prescribing HRT, the few doctors who handle transgender patients are often hesitant to make a prescription for HRT without said therapy. Doctors who work with trans patients are so uncommon, wait time for an appointment can be six weeks. Few therapists are familiar with gender dysphoria, and few insurance policies cover gender dysphoria-related medical and psychological expenses anyway.So, you can get a prescription for HRT if you can run this course of hurdles:

• You can find a therapist who knows about gender dysphoria;
• Your insurance covers months’ worth of sessions or you’re wealthy enough to pay for them yourself;
• Your insurance company will pay for the workup labs or you can afford to pay $800 for them;
• You can find a doctor willing to work with you;
• Your insurance company will cover the doctor’s visits or you have the money to pay for the visit; and
• Your insurance covers the cost of the drugs at the pharmacy or you can pay for them out-of-pocket.

If you get through all of this, the process can take three months to a year and cost close to $2,000 if you don’t have insurance that covers trans-related care.

Or, you can go online for five minutes and place an order with one of the pharmacies in Cyprus or Vanuatu to get a three-month supply for $200 if you’re a male-to-female trans person, and about $350 for a female-to-male. Shipping time is about two weeks. FPOs and APOs are treated like any other address inside the United States—folks are self-medicating on the front lines out of desperation.

Vanuatu, an island in the South Pacific, lies in the “Ring of Fire” and regularly experiences seismic and volcanic activity. While homosexuality is legal in the country, open displays of affection between same-sex partners will attract adverse attention.

Hormone regimens for male-to-females and female-to-males differ in the particulars. Male-to-female transsexuals typically take one medication to suppress testosterone production plus provide some form of estrogen. Some take a bio-identical form of progesterone in addition to the estrogen and the androgen blocker. Female-to-male individuals generally only take testosterone as part of their HRT regimen.Both the testosterone and estrogen can be delivered as injections. Many doctors prefer injections because it reduces both the cost of the regimen and the strain placed on the liver. However, injectable testosterone or estrogen is not available from the mail-order market due to refrigeration requirements. For female-to-male trans people, the testosterone gel or dermal patch alternatives available online are typically 10 times more expensive than the injectable version. Still, most trans people will go to almost any length to align their bodies and minds and will bear almost any cost burden.

What makes the online, no-questions-asked option even more attractive is that some of the drugs used as part of HRT everywhere else in the modern world, are not approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). The costs of getting FDA approval versus the small market for these particular drugs don’t balance out for the manufacturer. In the United States only one drug is available for suppressing testosterone as part of HRT. That’s because this drug, spironolactone, is also used to lower blood pressure, and its anti-androgenic effects are ancillary.

If you’re a runner (like me) and you take enough spironolactone to significantly reduce testosterone, you often suffer the pesky side effect of passing out cold every time you stand up too quickly. This leaves you with three options: stop HRT, keep fainting at work every other time you get up from your desk, or use one of the newer and better drugs available online, cyproterone acetate, which has far fewer side effects. Unfortunately, the last option carries risks.

Obtaining drugs from Cyprus and Vanuatu is something of a legal grey area. People can theoretically be prosecuted under civil law for ordering drugs from overseas, with or without a prescription. However, since 2006 customs and the FDA have rarely gone after people importing low-risk medications in quantities normal for personal use.
Many trans folk in the military who start transition prior to getting out of the military and use online pharmacies also face civil and UCMJ article 92 risks. Being in one of these countries that sells these legally does not help either; the FDA prohibits importing drugs by mail or on your person, and the UCMJ does not allow seeking medical care outside the DoD system without authorization.

The penalties for using hormones, even those obtained legally, can be severe. What follows are true stories. One trans woman Sailor bought estradiol in Spain, where it can be purchased without a prescription. Her vial was found during a drug sweep, they made her take a urinalysis, and it detected the presence of synthetic estrogen. She was given an otherthan- honorable discharge. A current case involves a trans man who obtained testosterone via a legal prescription from a doctor in the U.S. He was hospitalized for a condition unrelated to gender dysphoria, and his lab work revealed the presence of synthetic male hormones. He has been relieved of duty, had his clearance revoked, and is also facing a potential discharge.

Another risk is counterfeit or low-quality drugs. Some estimates place the value of that illegal industry in the United States at $75 billion. A constant source of discussion on transgender forums is the reliability of different websites, the reliability of the drug manufacturers whose products are being sold on those websites, and where each drug is manufactured. Do you trust the estrogen made in New Zealand or the much cheaper but supposedly identical brand made in India? Which sites are more likely to have their merchandise confiscated by customs?

Some vets will be eligible for Department of Veterans Affairs benefits that cover therapy, labs, and prescriptions for HRT. Others don’t meet the somewhat byzantine requirements for eligibility. The Affordable Care Act doesn’t mandate coverage for transgender-related care, most corporate-provided policies don’t cover transrelated care, and individual policies that cover trans-related care are prohibitively expensive.

This whole sordid story has many lessons. It demonstrates the power of free market economics and the terrible risks trans people will take to transition. It highlights the foolishness of our own medical system and the funny way drugs have of finding their way to demand.

I would sort of like to see where my money went for all those years. Going to Vanuatu seems like it would be something of an adventure.

For more information on hormone replacement therapy, Endocrine Therapy for Transgender Adults in British Columbia: Suggested Guidelines is a good place to start. It is both informative and moderate in tone.

Editor’s Note: OutServe Magazine does not endorse the illegal use of hormones.

For whatever reason, this song has become traditional to the New Year. The Scottish phrase “auld lang syne” best translates as “for old times’ sake.” It asks us to reflect on friendship, and times past. After the most tumultuous year of my life I have had the opportunity to take stock of old acquaintances, and consider what has come and gone.

Coming out is a uniquely LGBT rite of passage. However, if LGB people need a spoon full of sugar to help make the medicine go down, coming out as trans can require the entire dessert cart and an anesthesiologist. Thus, eight months after I began living as a woman full time and finished coming out to virtually everyone, the smoke has cleared. The diabetic shock is over, and I can conduct an accurate battle damage assessment.

My family is still with me, even the extended variety. We told the girls what was happening in January. They seemed to think it was funny at first, but have decided that Maddy’s a lot easier to live with. Mom is confused but supportive, and working hard to make it known I’m still welcome at home. Dad is still talking to me, but desperately trying to pretend this isn’t happening. My step-mother can’t bear to look at me or speak to me.

My step-father’s family was something of an enigma, being blue-collar, Italian Catholics, and dyed-in-the-wool, union-supporting Democrats. I don’t think they knew what to make of me coming out at first. In the end my step-family seemed to decide as a group that if being trans was what it took for me to vote for Obama, then it couldn’t be all bad.

I came out to a select few military folks early on whom I deeply respected for various reasons, but they were all from my time at the Naval Academy: The woman who was in my company, a free-thinker, and an outsider. The brilliant man who blended intellect, ethics, and wisdom seamlessly to became a great doctor. The surfer-dude plebe/summer roommate who seemed to live by the motto “It’s all good, man.” The giant of a man who knew the value of trampling stereotypes. The woman whose smile and optimism never seemed to be touched by the oppressive atmosphere of the institution. I sought each out individually, and came out to them on purpose because I valued them as friends and individuals. They reciprocated. I felt humbled and grateful.

However, those military folks from my active duty past who sought me out after transition were another story. In dribs and drabs they found me on the internet. I have given them the truth, and the option to back out gracefully.

All of them took the opportunity to avoid further contact with me.

The group of people from my past that surprised me the most, though, were my friends from high school. We were a tight knit, if eclectic and intellectual, bunch. The way they rallied to me was inspiring. I disappeared off the face of the Earth in one place, and popped up somewhere else as someone else. Yet, one by one, they found me online, and asked what the deal was. I was honest with them, and left each with option of gracefully declining to be involved. Every last one refused to bow out, and all still wanted to keep in touch regardless of who I am today.

I was humbled to have such friends. Here, almost 20 years later, and after having spent only 4 years together, there was still a sense of loyalty and camaraderie.

Somehow, though, one of the most difficult situations was also the last. My best friend through high school, whom I had kept in touch with continuously for 20+ years, was the last person I came out to. It didn’t happen until this September.

“Ethan” is probably the smartest person I know. He has a doctorate in linguistics, wrote his dissertation on why Noam Chomsky’s theory of language origins was wrong, and speaks God-only-knows how many languages now. Seriously, last I counted it was in the low-20s. He’s also one of the most thoughtful and devout evangelical Christians I know. Over the past decade he and his family have lived in China while studying and recording dying dialects. Thus, I had held back what was going on in my emails, and I hoped I could postpone the truth from him indefinitely based on our distance.

Then, I got an email from Ethan. He and his family were back in the U.S. on a yearlong sabbatical. He had found out I was trans after he stumbled onto one of my online profiles, and he wanted to talk. The jig was up, and I just hoped for the best.

He called. We talked. After perhaps ten minutes, he stopped the conversation and remarked, “You know, even though you sound different, even though the accent is different, I still hear the old you. Your choice of words, your pauses, and just how you use language; it’s still you in there.”

“Yeah, still me,” I replied. “I couldn’t tell you because I thought so much of you as a friend and as a person that I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’re still my friend, regardless.”

“Thank you,” I said, with a giant lump in my throat. “You don’t know how much that means. I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming, but I didn’t know how your religious beliefs would allow it.”

“Brynn, if I shunned everyone who didn’t live the way I thought they were supposed to, I would have been really lonely in a country with 1.2 billion people,” Ethan answered simply.

I will leave it there. On New Year’s, I will be raising a cup o’ kindness yet.

For auld lang syne.