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Making Sense of It All

by Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.

My Maple Tree

Every time I look at the lovely maple tree in my front yard, especially during the autumn, I am reminded of the fact that gender change at any level involves far more than what the eye can see. That reminder has taken the form of a poem, "My Maple Tree:"

My maple tree
has shared with me
another season of its life.

The leaves
are now flushed
with the fullness of fall,
adding splendor
and sadness
until the last moment
and even beyond it all.

For when the branches
are finally bare,
naked
to the season's sun,

my maple tree
will show to me
and to all eternity
the soul work
yet to be done.

When I first wrote this poem I did not have any gender struggle in mind, at least not consciously, for at the time I was not even aware of the fact that I was struggling with gender confusion. I just knew that my life was a never ending series of challenges, both inner and outer. And those challenges, which in my case have ultimately included a struggle with gender identity, continue to emerge and evolve.

It is one thing for me to have found myself at last, that is, to have found the gender identity which allows me to feel grounded and truly alive. But it is another thing simply to live life, regardless of my gender. I cannot really overstate the awesomeness of realizing that, even having faced the unbelieveable fact of my gender discomfort and resulting change, I still have life in general to face. I still have to get up each day, eat properly, go to work, drive carefully, watch my finances, get enough sleep, and so on. All of this may sound like I am stating the obvious, but I have had to remind myself that my gender change is not the final answer to my encounter with life. My gender change may be a relief and represent a new lease on life, but it is not the total answer to the daily challenges.

As a matter of fact, my gender change has added to the challenges, both inner and outer, which I continually face. Initially, I just wanted to resolve my inner turmoil, an effort that involved self-recognition, self-acceptance, and self-integration. Those challenges persist in varying degrees, but now I also face other challenges. For example, I will always live with some degree of secrecy, even though family and friends can see my gender change. The world in general, however, does not know of my change unless I announce it, for I am lucky to be able to have made a fairly good transition in terms of appearance, voice, and mannerisms. So there is a certain measure of secrecy remaining, a secrecy which is undoubtedly appropriate. Of course, my writings tell the world who I am and what I have gone through. But on a day to day basis I keep my gender change a matter of private knowledge, in other words, a secret. Though my remaining secrecy does weigh a bit on my soul, such weight is part of the soul-work which I increasingly accept. When I look at my maple tree without its cloak of leaves, I see my soul-work beneath it all.

Along with some continuing measure of secrecy in my life, I am also experiencing a sense of ambiguity, in that, to one extent or another, my body is ambiguously constructed. Again, I do not present an ambiguous appearance, but I carry the sense of ambiguity beneath my clothes and within my soul. When I look at the bare branches of my maple tree, I see the bare facts of my existence. How I handle it all is part of the soul-work which I face. Though I have pretty much made my transition from one gender to the other, the change effort which that transition involves is never really finished. I am forever dealing with various aspects of my gender change, whether concerning my body or my relationship with family and friends. Strangers, of course, do not know what I have gone through. But medical examinations and some occasional legal documentation represent two situations in which I am especially reminded of my gender change. School reunions, if I choose to attend, are another poignant reminder. I must admit I do not like these various reminders. I just want to live my life, but my gender change is part of the reality which constitutes my life experience as a whole. Handling that reality is part of my soul-work. My maple tree, with its annual autumn splendor followed by its wintry bareness, reminds me that my gender change is an ongoing aspect of my journey through life.

All of this experience, including such matters as my lingering secrecy, my residual ambiguity, and the endlessness of my change, represents a challenge to my soul. But I am not alone with my soul-work. Transvestites, transgenderists, and transsexuals, both male to female and female to male, as well as intersexed persons, whose sense of ambiguity is unavoidable, at least initially, all know the meaning of soul-work. And, of course, those who are gay, lesbian, and bisexual all know the meaning of my maple tree, for they, too, face soul-work throughout their lives. And those closest to us, that is, spouses, children, relatives, and close friends, all face soul-work in terms of us. The truth of the matter is that, regardless of one's gender or sexual variation, soul-work is part of life. If we pay attention to the inner tasks in the midst of our outer comings and goings, we can add depth and meaning to our lives as a whole. If we are unable on our own to find the depth and meaning we each seek, we can always turn to others for help, such as professional counselors, especially counselors who understand what it means to find happiness and fulfillment in a world where diversity is really the norm and not the exception, where being different from each other is as normal as the change of seasons. Perhaps a good counselor is one who knows what my maple tree is trying to tell us. Such a counselor will in turn help each of us to know for ourselves what my maple tree is saying.

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

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