Making Sense of It All

Ms. Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.

When I Turn Off the Television

Like most people, I watch television. I watch some programs for news, some for education and insight, and some strictly for entertainment. In any case, television is always an outside presence which I have essentially invited into my house and which I selectively enjoy.

It was in terms of this general viewing activity that I once found myself suddenly frightened by my turning off the television. I don't remember why I chose to turn it off at that particular moment. Maybe I was simply trying to escape a commercial break. But, selective as I am about watching television, I do know that I suddenly became aware of the stillness, the quietness and peacefulness, in the house. And, as I have said, I became frightened. The following poem, called, "When I Turn Off the Television," grew out of that experience:

When I turn off the television
I am suddenly facing God.
He stares at me
from an empty screen
until I see
my own reflection
staring back,
like an alien
from another world.
There is no sound
except the pounding
of the silence
and of my heart.

God
is not easy to face,
especially when
I see and hear
myself,
and that scares me more.

Maybe
if I were to hold
my own hand,
then maybe
I could begin to live
in my own house,
even with the television
on.

What, you may ask, does all this have to do with my life as a transgendered person, especially since the ostensible purpose of this monthly column is to make some sense of gender change, whatever that change may entail? Actually, the turning off of the television represents for me both my decision to embark on a male to female transition and then my effort to make something of my life following that decision.

I never would have been able to deal with my transgender feelings if I had not been able initially to look away from the show of life and begin to look at my own inner show. I had my own screen test to pass, if you will. I had to be able, at least temporarily, to look away from a screen full of pleasant distractions and begin to look directly at my own life with all of its confusion and potential. Where was I going with my gender feelings? What did I intend to do with those feelings, for they threatened to destroy me if I did not face them once and for all?

But it was not easy to turn off the outer television and to begin to tune into my own inner station, my own show. I had to begin to see and hear myself for who I really am. I was finally able to examine more closely the script I had been following, only to discover that it was the wrong one for me, wrong in a fundamental sense. I was on the stage of life, but I was in the wrong gender. I was miscast, almost from the start. Maybe that is why my own inner ratings were not very high.

And so, in a very real sense, I turned off the television and began to look at myself, not selfishly but instead honestly and realistically. How ironic that when I was living unhappily but appearing to be adjusted, I was socially acceptable. But when I started to live happily, though markedly changed, to be sure, I lost a certain measure of social approval.

In any case, now that I have essentially made the gender transition, I still face life's normal problems: earning a living, paying bills, staying healthy, getting along with others, finding enjoyment, and just living life. I first had to face God and myself in order to deal with my gender confusion. I now find that I still have to face God and myself, but this time in order to deal with life's challenges in general. It is not that I have never dealt with life, but I have never faced it without my gender struggle. That struggle is essentially over, and so now I have no excuse for not facing life's challenges in terms of myself as a whole person.

Simply being a person, not primarily someone with gender confusion, is really not so simple. For example, I have difficulty sitting still and just being comfortable with myself, both physically and mentally. I seem to be my own distraction. So I practice sitting still on a regular basis. As my poem suggests, I need to hold my own hand first. Then perhaps I might really have a chance to become more aware of my own mind and my own soul. In other words, maybe if I can control my body and stop my outer fidgeting, I might give myself a chance to find the inner calm with which to face life in general. The goal is for nothing to distract me from who I really am, from my total sense of self, and from my general involvement in life, regardless of whether the television is on or off. I would then be able to pass any and every screen test. But first I must turn off the television and sit still with my own inner show. That's the screen test I must pass right now. My inner ratings might even go up just by my trying.

Want to comment? Send email to Dr. Etscovitz at hmdm@voicenet.com.



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