If Not Now, When?
by Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.
All human beings, and especially those of us who are transgendered, face a fundamental dilemma which, one way or another and to one extent or
another, we each resolve during our lifetime. That dilemma can best be
expressed in the form of a question: What is the relationship between what
one does for oneself and what one does for others? A classic expression of
this same question can be found in an ancient Jewish saying:
If I am not for myself,
who will be for me?
If I am for myself only,
what am I?
If not now, when?
In terms of my own experience as a transgendered person, the significance
of this question, however it is expressed, has increased with the years. I
recall the first time the question became a conscious part of my life. I
was in college, and I wrote a paper entitled: "Individual Happiness and
Social Responsibility." I do not recall what specifically triggered my
intellectual interest in this issue. I do know that my father could not
understand, let alone encourage, my vocational wishes to be a writer or a
musician or possibly a rabbi. Moreover, he was always trying to "make a
man" out of me, though I could never understand his concern. So given these
experiences among others, I began to ask, as a college student, why I could
not be true to myself, at least vocationally, and still be part of society,
which meant acceptance by my family.
I did enter rabbinical school, only to drop out after six months with a
"deep inner unrest," as my condition was labeled. In retrospect, that
"condition" had deep transgender implications, but at the time I only knew
that I did not fit into the expectations my father had of me, nor was I
able to concentrate on more studies, even those of my own choosing.
I was invited back to rabbinical school after two years, but I chose
instead to get my doctorate in educational philosophy and human relations.
All through my graduate studies I saw psychiatrists, because I was
increasingly unhappy in ways I could not fathom. The psychiatrists could
not fathom my unhappiness either, except to note that I was a very anxious
person. My "inner unrest" increased, though somehow I was able to get my
course work done, write a dissertation, get my degree, and obtain a
position as a professor of education.
During my graduate studies I also got married, more out of loneliness than
love. There was nothing wrong with my spouse. Instead, there was something
wrong with me, for I continued to be puzzled by my very being. Perhaps the
fact that all of this was taking place in the late 1950's and early 1960's
helps to explain, at least in terms of gender confusion, why I and my
psychiatrists could not understand my anxiety and depression. Little was
known at that time about the transgender phenomenon.
During the next fifteen years, as husband and father, I tried to give to my
spouse and to my three children, but the more I gave of myself, the less I
felt alive. I felt increasingly drained of my very existence. One
psychiatrist said that my love bucket was low. He never helped me to see
that I did not love myself, let alone my male self. Love from others did
not really help, because others were loving an image of me that, at least
subconsciously, I did not really own or even want.
I needed to give to myself, and that need increasingly gave way to
activities that culminated in a divorce. When I remarried seven years
later, I still did not know I had transgender feelings, though I did know
something, perhaps the same inner unrest I had experienced years earlier,
was still bothering me. I just hoped that whatever it was would go away
with a new relationship. It did not, and that was when the dilemma of which
I have been speaking hit me harder than ever.
It has been during my second marriage that I have discovered and acted upon
my transgender feelings.That discovery and the decisions following it have
been the source of my greatest happiness and my greatest pain. I truly love
my spouse, and she loves me equally. After much soul-searching, and with
the help of professional counseling from someone who recognized and
understood my transgender feelings, I decided to take a stand on my need to
make a gender transition. I could not put off making such a decision
without putting my life on "hold," and I had already done too much of that.
My decision has brought me much anguish, because the pain it has brought to
my spouse means I might lose her. But we are still together, though two
women living together is not what my spouse intended when she married me.
She points out that she originally said, "I do." Now she can only say, "Oy
Vey!"
There may be some humor in all of this, if only for occasional relief, but
the seriousness and painfulness of it all, regardless of the outcome,
underscores the dilemma expressed in the original question and amplified in
the ancient Jewish saying. Simply put, from my own point of view as the
transgendered partner, the dilemma is that, if I do not honor my
transgender feelings, I am a walking dead person; and if I do honor those
feelings, then I risk becoming a very lonely person. If I am not for
myself, will anyone else really be for me? But if I do not take into
account the feelings of those closest to me, especially spouse and
children, can I still enjoy my life? After many years of inner misery, what
should now be my greatest joy is turning out to be the source of another
great misery. And yet, if I do not do something now, when will I?
Perhaps there is no satisfying conclusion to any of this. There is just the
ongoing struggle to find as much meaning and happiness in life as possible.
The following poem, called "If," is my attempt to make some sense of this
whole dilemma:
If I am not for me,
for feeling good,
for reaching in
and discovering my should,
whatever that be,
if I am not for all of that,
who will really be for me
in those deepest moments
of an inward chat?
But if I am for me alone,
if I never think of someone else,
not ever reaching out beyond
the life I call my own,
if I do none of that,
what am I, then,
that I dare give
my back a pat?
So if not now,
when?
When will I reach
to share,
to teach,
to give to others
out of my living
and fulfill myself
out of that giving?
If not now,
when will I do all of that?
Ah,
the tragic
and the magic
of all those "ifs,"
of all those "whens,"
just waiting
to be "thens."
Want to comment? Send email to Dr. Etscovitz at hmdm@voicenet.com.
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