Do you intend to live out or stealth as trans?

There is no right way to be someone here people. It's a matter of choice. To the public I'm stealth. To friends and family as well as in my school eventually it's pretty hard to hide.

 

If I decide to transition, I won't hide my history, but I'll only explicitly tell people I'm close to.

 

Largely stealth. I want to be seen as a woman, not the woman-who-used-to-be-a-guy, which is how a lot of people see transwomen. I just want to get as far away as possible from the gender identity I grew up and suffered with.

 

It all depends on how close someone is in my social circle. Obviously I won't tell every single stranger I meet that I'm trans, but if someone is close enough in my social circle or if I'm dating someone, then it just wouldn't feel right to withold that information from them. But then again, that's easier said than done, since admitting something like that can be very nerve-wracking.

 

I have to live out, I think. I'm not happy being in one of the common two, so there's no situation in which being stealthy about my gender has people understand who I am. I also feel like it's my responsibility to be the open, honest, happy transgender person I so desperately needed to see growing up.

The whole time I was growing up, the prevalent attitude in my home about trans people was that there's nothing wrong with them, but we should feel sympathy for them and be nice to them because being trans is a miserable way to live, so clearly no one would choose that, and they are constantly met with harassment and rejection in their societies and families. I did not hear, see or conceive of a happy, well adjusted, secure trans person for whom daily life was not a constant unbearable struggle until I was a teenager. The first time I met one, I met an out of the closet trans guy my freshman year of college who was actually talking about dysphoria and feeling awful. It's not the fault of any of the stealth trans people around me, I respect their ability to control their own lives, and I understand that being open about it can be really hard or dangerious.. but... I needed to see that happy trans person sooner. If I'd seen that sooner, I think it would be less hard now.

Actually, I need to see that like anywhere, ever. I still Today, when you google "happy transgender people", most of what shows up in the first page is about SRS regret and how awful it is to be trans. And there's very, very little about nonbinary people at all. And it doesn't have to be that way. We don't have to be miserable people, there is a future in which we can exist as we are without it being painful and awful. I haven't really seen it, but I have to believe it, or I can't go on. And so if being happily trans feels kind of like a do-or-die situation for me, then I might as well make something of it and help out the kids who are like me. The ones who really need to see an open and happy nonbinary trans person around.

And really it'll make the social environment better for me. When I was coming out as gay, the biggest thing I noticed that made homophobic people change their minds or tone down their opinions was being an openly gay person they liked. When it wasn't "the gays" but suddenly a person they knew, they stopped talking shit about "the gays" (in front of me at least). And I am lucky to live in an environment where people are open to that kind of change. It has to start somewhere, and maybe in a lot of people's lives, I can be that start. It won't be simple. But I have to do it. I really have to, for me and people like me.

 

I'm not sure. I like the idea of being stealth, but I would worry about finding myself in awkward conversations about penis size and stuff (priorities, priorities), and then I would have to either come out or just go along with it.

 

By the simple nature of my age, profession, friendships, and associations, I'm choosing to be out. The alternative is I will lose over a decade of attorney-related contacts and over 20 years of Marine Corps related contacts if I dropped of the radar as "Russ" with no linkage to Emma. I've drafted (and revised, and revised, and revised) a letter I will provide once I go full-time that will hopefully soften the impact of "THE BIG NEWS." We'll see.

Without being a "stealth shamer," I think it's important to put a real, human face to the fight for equality. When someone is confronted with the rhetoric that trans* are evil/pederasts/bathroom stalkers, I want them to have to think of me and wrap their head around the cognitive dissonance that I am not that monster and never will be... so that rhetoric must be based on faulty logic.

Keep reading if you have some time, but it gets long:

Here's a little backstory you didn't ask for, but I think it helps explain why I don't want to live stealth, or in the closet ever again. I came out, to myself, as bi in 1995 - scared, mostly alone and afraid on a tiny island in the Pacific while surrounded by macho infantry Marines. 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell" (DADT) was in full effect back then, so I had no other choice but to live so deep in the closet that I smelled of mothballs and Mr. Tumnus from Narnia would ask me over for tea on occasion. In 1997-1998, I came out to my super-religious parents and two older sisters. Yeah, that went over about as well as you can expect. I certainly wasn't going to also tell them that I felt like a girl inside. Fast-forward almost 20 years and I've got a beautiful spouse, 2 great kids, my sisters are awesome, my parents are quietly cool, and after DADT died in 2011 I even came out publically on Facebook about 10 months later to a generally-great reception. Badass, right? Lost some friends/associates, but fuck them. At the time, DADT repeal did not impact trans* service so trans* servicemembers could still be kicked out. Even despite that, I was not yet at a place where I could admit I was trans*, I blamed my feelings on being bi, a closet femme, etc. Here's the public note I put on FB back then:

August 9, 2012 · Russ' Reintroduction

Spoiler

Dear Family and Friends,
It’s been a long time since most of us have spoken face-to-face and I’d like to sort of reintroduce myself. I want to ensure that you know ‘the whole me.’ The vast majority of you know I am passionate about defending Marines who have lost their voice when their Corps has turned into their accuser. A few of you know that I suffer from major depressive disorder and both combat-related and non-combat-related post-traumatic stress disorder since being diagnosed in 2008, but more accurately for years preceding my diagnoses. Almost all of you know that I am a vocal advocate for equality for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered (LGBT) people. These are just a few facets of me, but I want each of you to be a part of my life, which has reached a culminating point. In Marine-speak, this is normally when a combat force transitions from the offense into the defense, in order to resupply, reorient, etc. Let me be clear - what follows is in no way defensive. This is about being open with people in my life and that includes you. It is also about education, the primary method that we can overcome almost any adversity.

In a perfect world, I would have preferred to have this conversation with each of you in person, but perhaps the biggest impediment to education and knowledge is a lack of exposure. I chose this method to reach as many of you as possible with an undiluted message, motivated not out of hubris but with a heart aimed towards positive exposure regarding personal, local, national and global discussions. Some of you may have questions, please feel free to either email or call to discuss (within reason).

In addition to all the things you know about me, I am also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I was molested by two different individuals, by a female babysitter when I was 10 and by a male friend of the family when I was 13. I kept these assaults a secret for decades, buried by layers of shame, guilt, and self-blame. I know now how irrational those feelings are, but they were powerful forces in keeping me silent in the wake of being victimized. I thought that I regained power over my attackers by not facing them head-on or letting them visibly affect my life, but I was wrong. Being silent is no longer an option for me.

In addition to my childhood demons, my battles with depression and combat-related PTSD have largely been silent, with [wife] and the kids bearing the brunt of dealing with my mood swings, withdrawal, hyper-vigilance, and emotional distance. [Wife] has been a fantastic supporter throughout the years and I honestly would not be where I am today without her. Over the years, depression robbed me of my voice and I am struggling to regain the footing to be able to talk, openly and honestly, about where I am in my life. The good news is that I’m getting better. I am currently in the last week of Fort Belvoir's Co-Occurring Intensive Outpatient Program for service members fighting the effects of PTSD, Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), depression, and other mood disorders. I have been in this program since 2 July and will graduate this Friday, 10 August. Even after I graduate from this program, I will continue to be seen by mental health professionals to help me with the symptoms and causes of my diagnoses. I have been lucky enough to have a job, boss, family, and friends who have allowed me this fantastic opportunity to heal some old wounds. Part of that healing is this letter to you.

I have done some things that I am not proud of – both deployed and back home. The combat-related decisions I made were split-second decisions between life and death. In those situations, there are often no wholly ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ decisions, but I made decisions which saved the lives of me and my men at the cost of lives of others. I will forever live with the human cost of war. After my return from Iraq, I’ve also made decisions that were self-centered and harmful in a desperate attempt to either self-destruct or find some semblance of the happiness I once knew. I am working on recognizing those decisions for what they were and forgiving myself. I ask for your support as I go forward and, if I have offended or distanced myself from you, I humbly ask for your forgiveness.

Switching gears, the recent debate over marriage equality, and more generally-speaking, LGBT civil rights has reached a frenzy within our nation. Many of you may not have a close friend or family member who you knew was LGBT. You may not have had exposure to someone who was "out." Now, that is no longer an excuse. I'm bisexual. To some of you, this may come as a surprise. Yes, I am married to a woman, but that does not change my orientation, just like straight or gay people do not cease to find a specific gender attractive. What should come as no surprise is that I am still your friend, your neighbor, your fellow Marine, your family, or any combination thereof. In order to clear up any confusion, sexual orientation is not sex. I am bisexual, irrespective of being married to a woman. I don’t know what made me bisexual, but frankly, it doesn’t matter what determined my orientation – it is a part of me that I have accepted. It is not my defining characteristic, just as being a father, Marine Officer or any other part of my life does not wholly define me... What I am is greater than the sum of my parts. I'm flawed, to be certain, but my sexual orientation is not a flaw. It is not an aberration. It is a natural part of me.

For those of you wondering if this is something new, I came out to my immediate family in 1998 and made no secret of my sexuality during undergrad and law school, with the sole exception of those with whom I served as a Marine reservist. My wife knew my orientation before we even started dating and continues be a vocal supporter of equal rights and education. When I returned to active duty in 2007, I 're-entered the closet' out of necessity due to "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." I have served for almost 18 years as either an active or reserve Marine, defending the rights of each and every American and, more broadly, global human rights as part of my deployments to the Middle East, Africa, Europe, Asia, and Australia. Every day from 28 Nov 1994 until 20 Sept 2011, I lived with the fear of being kicked out of the Marine Corps if someone in my command found out about my sexuality. Thankfully, Congress and President Obama made DADT a relic of a bygone era, but there is still much to do.

When you stand silent in the face of LGBT discrimination or, worse yet, advocate against marriage equality or 'gay rights' you are either passively or actively saying I'm not as good as you. I refuse to stand silent any longer. You and I can either agree or disagree - but you will know where I stand and who I am. I ask you, again humbly, to stand with me.

Thank you for your support and love over the years – you have helped make me a better person today. The path continues for each of us – we will each make choices which, hopefully, are centered around love and respect for ourselves and others. I wish you the best and hope that you are both blessed and surrounded by people who love and value you.

With love,
Russ

Current draft of my trans coming out letter

Spoiler

Family & Friends,

Right off-the-bat, thank you for being part of my life. Each of you, in some way big or small, impacted my progress in this journey and daily experiment we call life. I am glad to share it with you and look forward to the ways each of us will grow in the future. This letter is the product of many days, weeks, and one could say almost four decades of work, so I have taken great care with it, because the intent from the outset is to preemptively explain the things you may wish to know, and answer some of the questions you will want to ask. In true lawyer fashion, it wouldn't be a letter without some sort of disclaimer, right? Regardless of my wishes and best intentions, there will remain things still unknown, and there will be questions that still need asking. The short of it all is I want to be upfront, candid, and real with you.

The reason I’m taking so much care - ensuring what I write is taken for exactly what is meant - is because this is the beginning of a brand new chapter in my life. I want you to know, straight from me, I am a transgender woman. If you're picking your jaw off the floor right now, please stick with me for the next few pages so that I can try and explain some things. After that, game on.

All my life, I have felt wrong. I mean all my life. Since before most of you knew me, since before I could even put a full definition to what gender even was... I always felt off in my own body, as though the world I expected and desired did not sync at all with what was happening around me, happening to me. I always felt that I had to put on a performance of-sorts to fit in, play-act male, and I was constantly afraid that someone would discover that I was faking. Another part of me kept waiting, sometimes desperately hoping, for the moment in “Pinocchio” where I could exclaim “I'm a real boy!”… but it never materialized, despite my best efforts.

So, why/how am I transgender? Great question. Much like human sexuality, the science is still being figured out. In all likelihood, it is a biological variance caused during fetal formation by little more than a slightly “off” series of hormonal developments, a zig instead of a zag in the womb to put it in layman’s terms. To be clear, this isn't my parents’ fault, my fault, or anyone’s fault. It just is - like a leaky heart valve or kidney that doesn't quite work right, for example. My mind is a woman’s, but it’s in the body of a man, and it has been this way for the entirety of my existence, regardless of how I’ve been raised or how my experiences have influenced me.

Imagine, just for a second or two, you're growing up transgender. Imagine your persona and essence, picked up and thrust in an opposite-sex body, and you're unable to do anything about it. You see the world as a guy or girl, but have to live as the opposite, pushed along by societal currents, traditions, and survival instincts into positions and identities that are increasingly uncomfortable to you, unpalatable to you, and even damaging to your health. Everything about your existence is laced with lies, and it feels like there’s nothing that you can do about it.

This is how it was, and still kind of is, for me. This is how it’s always been for me. Between my childhood and now, I did what I felt I must to survive in this very heteronormative world. As I mentioned earlier, I desperately wanted to “fit in.” I wanted to think that this would just go away if I was just “man enough” I kept subconsciously thinking: “Maybe if I just ‘rub some dirt on it and walk it off, man,’ I'd be ok… Maybe this will pass?” or if I could somehow prove my masculinity to myself then, POOF!, this unsettling gender mismatch would simply work itself out. However, this isn't a phase or fad. My prior mindset may help explain some of my very über-dude actions growing up and in adulthood – joining the Marine Corps, volunteering for infantry, jumping out of planes, growing my beard once I got out of the Corps, and the list goes on. However, in my heart and in my mind, I could never shake that feeling that my real self, my real identify was still below the surface yearning to get out.

For decades, I felt that I could do nothing about what and how I felt, and so for years I didn’t intend to do anything about it. I rationalized that my thoughts, feelings, and dysphoria were linked to my bisexuality. [Using my best Office Space Lumbergh-voice, “umm, yeah, you got that memo at least a few years ago, right?” If this is also news to you, check out the Facebook note posted 9 Aug 2012. [FN1] ] These rationalizations came in the form of “Maybe my bisexuality is why I feel like a girl… Need to be a girl…. Hate being a guy, sometimes more than others., etc.” Unsurprisingly, these series of rationalizations do not work long-term. Being transgender, I have not-so-shockingly found, is not a habit you can break, a way of thinking that you can force your way out of, or something you can reverse with psychotherapy or drugs. It is a genetic construct that will never change.

But as it turns out, there is something that can be done about it. I’ve always known it was a possibility, but until now I’ve been too terrified to make it a reality. It took time - lots of time - for me to build up the courage to admit to myself that it would be a mistake to continue living as a male, and to understand that any apprehensions that I had about doing anything to solve my problems were very much outweighed by the problems themselves, and the implications that they would have on my well-being for the rest of my life.

So I’m finally doing something about it. I’m transitioning from male to female. It’s the only “cure” for my condition, and I am happy to take it on. Of course, it will be a challenge at times, but it is the only way that I can be authentic... real... Me.

This is probably the point were your brain has caught up and you're flooded with questions. You probably want to know how long this process is going to take; which procedures I'm going to have; when I'm going to start wearing dresses; what's my new name; what does Tonya think; etc.

Perhaps the most important question first, my wonderful wife, [wife], has stood by my side since we first met in July 2000, through thick and thin, feast and famine, literally war and peace. This news was, to put it quite mildly, a bit of a shock and not exactly what she signed up for back on 19 May 2001, but we’re working through it. I love her and our kids deeply and remain committed to being the best spouse and parent possible. [The kiddos, of course, have questions, much like you do, but they are processing the news and we are working on getting to a “new normal.”] **This is TBD since we haven't told the kids yet** I'd ask that you respect their privacy regarding this sensitive time.

Here’s what transitioning means. Soon, I will no longer be living as or identifying as a male. It means that I will be undergoing hormone replacement therapy (HRT, for short) to cancel out my body’s male hormones with female ones. It means that I will be physically developing as a female. HRT typically takes ~18-24 months to take full effect on the body. There are other medical procedures that I may or may not elect to perform, but ultimately, it means that I will be a female, even without any surgical intervention. If I decide to have surgery, I'll cross that bridge when I get there, but I haven't made my mind up. After all, it's called “transition” not “racing.” So, I don't know how long this will take before its all said and done, but it's certainly not overnight.

Me transitioning also means that I will stop following male fashion trends, and will begin to dress and appear as a female. It means that I will no longer be speaking with the male voice of mine. It means that I'll use electrolysis to remove my facial hair. (And yes, it’ll hurt. A lot.)

It means that I will be undergoing a long and tedious process to shift every bit of my identification to reflect my female identity, which will of course include a change of name. Soon, my name will be legally changed to Emma Rowan [last name]. [FN2] Despite it not being my legal name quite yet, I'd like you to please begin calling me Emma now, along with feminine pronouns.

But above all of the rest, this is the part I want people to understand the most. This is the part where I’m going to be emphatic, where I’m going to be insistent, and where I might get a little emotional. I want to make it crystal clear that **this is not a choice.** I am not deciding to become a woman. This is me allowing myself to be who I am, and it is the only route that I can take, because I am done lying about who I am. In transitioning from male to female, I am going to become a second-class citizen in the eyes of many people and even some states (I'm glaring at you, North Carolina and Mississippi). I am going to be opening myself up to discrimination and hate. I am going to jeopardize my job security. I am opening myself up to abandonment and rejection by friends, colleagues, and possibly even some of my family. I am diving headfirst into what is really a whole world of social trouble, and that is not something I would choose to do if I had a choice. Seriously, who would?! This is simply the next step of my life, of my existence, and of my development as a human being, and this was always going to happen or I was going to die from it. Harkening back to the heart valve analogy, I don't think anyone would say that replacing a life-threatening heart valve is a choice in a macro sense. Not transitioning is just as life-threatening for me.

Coming to grips with this has been an absurdly hard process, and it has constantly sent me into the depths of depression and even the brink of suicide. Nearly every personal problem that I’ve faced over the course of almost 40 years, I almost certainly trace back to repressed questions of gender identity. Making myself realize and embrace it took many years, and even after that — the fear and uncertainty of what to do about it made me miserable.

Until approximately six months ago, I hadn’t told a soul. I either outright lied about what made me sad, didn't tell the whole truth, or I just didn’t say. Coming out and actually telling someone “I’m transgender” was a prospect far, far too scary to even consider, even in the face of the pretty terrible things I had already seen in combat. Instead, I sank inside myself, jealous of people I perceived as braver than me, and full of shame and self-pity. Ultimately, it’s all because I was too scared to just tell anyone that there was something wrong with me. It took being completely low, down, and emotionally drained for me to finally tell anyone.

A therapy process called EMDR [FN3] helped immensely in breaking down my fortress-like walls built over the decades. It was just under five months after beginning EMDR, I finally told my therapist. After her, a couple of weeks to tell my wife, immediate family, and a few very close friends. Despite how scary it was each time, and despite how scary it still is, it gets easier, and that’s why now I’m able to close my eyes, take a big deep breath, and send this to you. Now that my walls are down, to remain invisible would be a lie of omission, a continued burying of the truth, and I can not abide it any longer. We owe it to each other and perhaps most of all to ourselves to be real and authentic at every opportunity.

So before I began writing this letter, I told only very few people about me being trans* — a select handful of the people who either (a) had come out as before themselves, (b) were professional therapists, and/or (c) people who I felt cared about me enough for me to feel comfortable using them as test subjects in my little revelation. My conversations with them have guided me through the writing of this letter, and have helped me to find what I need to say with it. I want to thank them for letting me cry with them, for holding me, for propping me up and helping me through my very first steps. My talks with them gave me the courage and the confidence to go forward. To them, thank you so much for helping me, loving me, accepting me, and making me believe that others would accept me too.

I’m writing this letter to everyone in my life so that you all can know what I’m going through, because I feel like it would be unfair for you not to know. I know you didn’t ask for me to spill my heart out like this, and it may be upsetting to read it. I don’t expect you to write me back with encouragement, give me a parade, or to be my professional support group (I'm still holding out for some backup singers, though ). My motivation is simple: I don’t want to give people the wrong impression of me anymore, and this letter is my first step in showing you who I really am. If this means you don’t want to be friends or speak to me, that’s your decision and I won't begrudge you for it. I am approaching this revelation from a position of love and acceptance so, I understand. Some of you are more on the fringes of my life and probably wouldn’t be saying much to me anyway, and will probably just brush this off as a strange occurrence involving a now-strange person you met however many years ago. And that too is okay. I can’t ask for acceptance from everyone. Others of you may see through a new lens the discrimination that is happening in the South and decide to be vocal allies. If so, that's great!

For the near future, know that my transition is underway right now. You now know someone who is an example of the “T” in LGBT. I'm still the same person you know – same values, same sense of humor, same love of Corps & Country, and same love of family… But things will be changing about my clothes, my mannerisms, my voice, my looks – but keep in mind that beneath it all I’m still the same person. No, I'm not going to suddenly start hanging out with Caitlyn Jenner or Chelsea Manning – they don't represent all transwomen, just as l do not. Please don't lump me into an ill-fitting stereotype.

I know it’s going to be a little weird, I know it’s going to be different, and I know most of you have never had to go through this before. It’s okay, I haven’t either. We can brave these uncharted waters together. I know there will be awkward situations. I know I’ll be accidentally called Russ/Russell and referred to as a male, and I know it will feel strange having to correct yourself when it comes to these things. I expect it, and I’m ok with the accidental slip-ups. I also expect questions, lots and lots of questions, and I want them to be asked without fear. I’m an understanding person, and I understand how different this might be for some of you, and I want to minimize that as much as I can — for everyone’s sake. I will answer your questions as fully and as honestly as I can. If there's something that I think crosses a line or is inappropriate, I'll let you know.

I’m writing this to my family, friends, and acquaintances – both new and old, but it is the people that I’ve known the deepest that this will probably affect the most. People who I’ve known in the Marine Corps, served in combat together, deployed together, fought in bars together, defended cases together – people who have called me “brother” – along with my family, who have seen me grow as a person and seen me change many times in many different ways, but perhaps never this much. I feel like I should say sorry to you for keeping this a secret for so long, for building up a wall between us that you didn't even know existed. I’m not sorry for who I am, but I am sorry for not being real with you.

Again, all I can do is ask for your understanding — but if I don’t receive it, I’ll probably live. Since coming to terms with all of this, I’m already a happier person. I am taking my happiness into my own hands, and I’m going to live my life the way that I deserve to live. I refuse to go on acting as I’ve felt the world would like me to.

Going forward, this is my story, and I’m going to write myself the way I want to be. I wish for you to be brave, be bold, be happy, and always be “the true you.”

Love and cheers to all of you,

~Emma Rowan [last name], formerly known as Russ

Footnotes
1. My “Russ’ Reintroduction” note posted on Aug 9, 2012 was a good first step towards explaining my sexuality and who I am as a person. Unfortunately, I wasn't at a place where I could even admit to myself that I was trans* at that point, let alone come out of the closet publicly. Further, restrictions on service by trans* servicemembers have not been fully lifted – even today – so, assuming arguendo that I was emotionally able to say it in 2012, the DoD could have kicked me out just for saying it.

2. Squarely in the “for what it’s worth” department, Emma is originally a short form of Germanic names that began with the element ermen meaning "whole,” which besides being a very pretty name is an apt description of the bringing together of my body and spirit. My new middle name, Rowan, means “little red one” in Gaelic and can be used as either a boy’s or girl’s name. Since Russell means “red-headed,” I thought Rowan was also a good fit despite me not being petite at all. Changing your name is a huge, complicated hassle, by the way. Fingerprints, court filings, newspaper publications, etc. followed by updating every legal and important document you can think of – birth certificate, driver’s license, attorney registration, diplomas, military records,… The list is nearly endless.

3. EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is an integrative psychotherapy approach that has been extensively researched and proven effective for the treatment of trauma. I initiated began it for combat-related PTSD and it was effective at so much more than that. Thank you, Dr. McReynolds, Dr. Yancey, and Ms. Erner at the Denver VA for being truly awesome.

PostScript: here are a few helpful links that may further your understanding.
• PFLAG’s trans* site
• Transfamily.org
• “Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family” by Amy Ellis Nutt available on Amazon
• Openminded Health’s Primer on HRT (hormone replacement therapy)
• OutServe-SLDN - Also squarely in the “for what it's worth department,” I have been involved with SLDN, and now OutServe, since 2008.
• WPATH’s Standards of Care (medical criteria for diagnosis, treatment, and follow-on care of transgender patients

 

You kinda managed to make me cry with those letters... not in a bad way, though - you have a powerful story to share.

I wish one day I can be more of a fighter for our rights. Sadly, where I live and my current situation might not allow me to be like that and make the ends meet at the same time.


Besides, it also depends what stealth actually means; I definitely will be out to close friends, family, but at the same time I'd keep it to myself when iteracting with others. I'm mostly worried for the neighbourhood to be honest - so I move in and out of my apartment without fear, and stealth is one way to get there.

 

I really want to live fully in stealth. This is because even with the most accepting people who think of me as female, it's like they think of me as "trans female" AKA something different that a cis female. I don't want that distinction. And this is with the most accepting lgbt individuals who are close friends (my 2 very closest friends aren't like that, but they are the only ones.) And with other people it can get as bad as aggravated assault in the most extreme cases.for me I'd just feel best with people thinking I was born female. Fortunately I have one of the few body\voice combinations that with top notch surgery, hormones and voice therapy I'd be pretty passable even to a sexual partner (at least a lot of people have told me this, including a physician, a psychiatrist (and my gender therapist if that means anything)) hell I even pass in person sometimes. I'm also lucky that I'm going to inherit around 120,000 grand in about 5 years, and that will really help with getting the best surgery\therapy. So basically I do plan to live fully in stealth when Im able, up to and including a long term romantic\sexual partner. If I couldn't achieve this I probably wouldn't try, but seeing as I'm in the minority of trans women that probably can I'm going too. Tbh with the exception of EC and my very closest friends I'm already in stealth online.

 

I wish I could go stealth, but as someone who is agender it isn't an option. Plus if I try to change my name and pronouns at work I'd have to come out to my entire profession who you trained with is a huge deal so cutting off what connections I have and starting new ones from scratch isn't really an option.

Ideally, I would let my close friends know eventually but everyone else would just know me as who I really am. I have partially changed my name with people I know have no overlap with professionally, but I don't think I will ever be the sort of person who can tell strangers to use different pronouns.

I really appreciate those who are or plan to live more openly, but I think each person has to figure out how open they can be and remain safe and comfortable.

 

I would like to go stealth or at least pass reliably but it really depends on how the next couple years go. If I get the results I'd like from hrt and can go stealth, great. If I don't get dramatic fat redistribution or big boob's so I can still function normally in society as male for work but can't pass for female, I'm fine with that. My fear is that say, I get C cups and Kimmy K hips but my face doesn't change much. I'm 30 so I'm not expecting dramatic changes, but if I could pass I would go as stealth as I could.
As for why? To me it's about functioning socially. I don't want to trick people or be something I'm not, but stealth is the only way to be myself and look like I see myself and still be treated like everyone else.

 

I've never told anyone explicitly about being genderqueer, so I guess it would be kind of difficult to go stealth? The thing is, being afab means you have a lot more options in clothing and how you can present yourself ... so I would be able to be 'female' to the people I need to be, but when I'm around other people I want to be known by my preferred pronoun that day, they can do that easily from looking at me.

 

I already put a comment about being unsure if I want to be stealth, but I'm just gonna add in that I only referred to my online stuff/as a writer/society in general. I was never planning on keeping quiet to friends (once we're good friends, not just the next day or something), family and friends I already got in my life already know because I posted it on Facebook (my Facebook is private, friends list only), and I'm in the process of changing my name so work will know and my potential internship already know bits.

I decided to post another comment, because after writing the first one, I kind of realized I'll probably be out whether I like it or not (though I don't hate the idea), because my life writing piece is being published and there's talk of me writing more.

 

Most of the time I am out, but there are instances when I know people will discriminate against me for being trans, and in those instances I usually go stealth, since lately I've found it extremely easy to do. XD Now, some people still detect I'm trans, but most people are actually somewhat surprised- I think it's because of how deep my voice has gotten.

 

If I can I'd do stealth.

 

I definitely want to be stealth.

 

I... There's a part of me that's proud of coming this far as a trans man, and I don't want to have to hide, but I honestly love being stealth when I can manage it. XD Most of the time I can't, not because I don't pass enough, but because people meet me through other people who know I'm trans... It sucks.

 

I'm not exactly sure what the difference is between stealth and living openly to be honest.

For me I will tell those close to me, friends and family, wither they are friends I have now or ones I shall make in the future. It will be the first thing I tell any future boyfriend I have, because I believe it to be something they need to know.
But I won't tell employers and peers unless I know they would be cool with it. I'm not going to approach people in the streets and yell "I'M TRANS"

because when I hear people say "living openly" that is the image I tend to conjure up. People just letting everyone, be it someone they talked to once or many times.

I'm not going to hide that I am trans, but I'm not going to loudly declare it to those outside my circle either.

 

I intend to be stealth. I haven't started T or even asked for a pronoun change yet, but it will be very soon and I fully intend to get a new job after I can pass and be stealth there. I'll be making the new Facebook and only adding people who already know and not putting up old pictures. I'm even considering taking my fiancee's last name when/if we get married to erase ties to the past, even though before it actually made me dysphoric to think about taking someone else's last name.

I deeply respect those who live openly. I think it's extremely admirable and people need to do it. Not me though. I've never been an activist.

 

I'd prefer to be stealth, but it hasn't worked out that way. I just have a lot of trouble passing, for whatever reason, so I end up having to tell people or deal with being seen as a woman.

Plus, my career goal is activism (training nursing staff on LGBT elder care in long-term settings) so I might end up being out in order to pursue that goal.