I opened the front door to let the cat outside. Somehow I’d missed that there was rain in the forecast. An unexpected rain is always an agreeable interruption to my day, or night for that matter. Often rain can be an emetic in times when one wishes to purge one’s self from the remnants of a difficult day or simply relax. There is something truly releasing about a rain in any season. I would gladly permanently trade the piercing sun for any form of rain if given the choice.
Well, I may have been neglecting this blog a bit, but I
haven’t been sitting around eating chips and guac and watching the tele. I’ve
actually been productive and busy with finishing my book. That would be writing,
not reading my book. Although I have read it more than a few times while
editing and editing and more editing.
attended my second Transgender Spectrum Conference in St. Louis. This year I
also agreed to participate in two ways I had not the previous year.
I spent a chunk
of the morning being interviewed by a volunteer interviewer for the Trans
Spectrum Oral History Project for the Washington University archives. It was
basically 45 minutes or so of narrative with a number of questions and conversation
with the orator/interviewer. The subject was the story about my transition from
female to male. It was a pretty laid-back exchange and the time passed quickly.
As with most surgical procedures, one must have follow-up
visits or therapy to improve the healing and overall outcome. My vocal cord
surgery was no different. I had made the decision to switch vocal therapists in
the department and met with the new therapist. She explained her background as
an opera singer and her plan to work with me to strengthen my voice, try to
reduce the raspy sound that resulted from the surgery, and see if she couldn’t
return some of my singing ability. She advised me that she could give no
guarantees and that it would be a long process. She taught me the first series
of exercises and sent me with instructions for alternating the process with
some vocal rest to prevent a repeat of my first attempt at therapy exercises.
Shortly after the top surgery it was clear that there were
people still misgendering me. While I’d most often been addressed as “sir”
before surgery, I was finding that “ma’am” was creeping into the picture a
little more than I liked. Frankly, I didn’t like it one bit. I’d always had the
issue over the phone but in person it hadn’t been so common in the past. I
thought that if my voice pitch was lower – more masculine – this problem would