She's Not There

by Jennifer Finney Boylan

  “Whoa,” Shell said.

  Nick took a slug of the whiskey while Shell took a good hard look at me. Then she turned to her husband and said,“All right, Nick, let’s have it. What do you think?”

  “Of what?” Nick said.

  Shell nodded at me. “Of the chick.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, what do you think?”

  Shell smiled kindly. “Tell you the truth?” she said. “I’d fuck her.”

  Part 3

  September 1999 and September 2001: “Whatever it is,” Groucho sang, “I’m against it.”

  “They Aren’t Like Jellyfish at All”

  June 2001

  To my friends at Colby:

  I would like to share some personal information with you. I am known, I suppose, for having a sense of humor, and admit that I once attempted to trick the entire Colby College faculty into calling the “1–800 Oscar Mayer Wiener-dog Hotline” (although Professor Brixton I believe was the only one who actually fell for this). As a result, some of you may think that the information I share with you herewith is a joke. It’s not. And comprehending this, in fact, may take a large portion of patience, understanding, and compassion. You are likely, in fact, to need a long time to fully process it.

  I am transgendered. Specifically, I am a male-to-female transsexual. I have had this condition for my entire life, since before kindergarten, since before language. It is certainly a condition I have had during all the years you have known me, and which has caused me an almost inexpressible degree of private grief.

  I have been in therapy, off and on, for my condition, for many years. Since my return from Ireland in 1999, however, it’s become clear to me that I cannot proceed with my life without finding union between my body and my spirit.

  Fortunately, transsexuality can be treated, and most of those who embark upon the journey of “transition” do go on to live fulfilling and joyful lives. There is a well-established protocol for treating transsexuals that has been adopted by the American Psychiatric Association and other mental health care professionals. This protocol is known as the “Benjamin Standards of Care,” and it constitutes a rigorous set of procedures, ensuring that the patient is a proper and appropriate candidate for gender shift.

  Carefully following the Benjamin Standards of Care, and under the care of a gender specialist, a clinical social worker, my family doctor, and an endocrinologist, I began taking the steps necessary to shift genders last year. This includes, among other things, a regimen of estrogen and antiandrogen therapy that has, over the last year, rendered my appearance and my body more feminine.

  In June of 2001 I began a sabbatical. I will not be in the classroom for the next year, as my transition becomes complete. I am not scheduled to teach in the fall of 2002, but I do anticipate returning to Colby as Professor Jennifer Finney Boylan in the spring of 2003.

  Some of you might not have a clear idea what “transgendered” means, and that’s fine; this is not a subject most people are familiar with. Transgendered is the preferred term for the whole range of people with gender issues. Transsexuals— persons who feel that their body and spirit do not match—are a particular kind of transgendered person. At any rate, a transsexual is not a cross-dresser, for whom the issue is clothes. (“Transvestite” is now considered a pejorative term for “cross-dressers”; in any case, I am neither of these and would be grateful if you could appreciate this distinction.)

  If you’ve read this far in this note, it’s quite possible that you feel that the top of your head is about to blow off. Most of us have no personal experience with transsexuality, and lack even a basic language for talking about it. If you find this strange, or embarrassing, or even wonderful, you should know that your reaction is not atypical.

  My wife, Grace, and my children, Luke and Patrick, have supported me throughout this process. Grace, in particular, has found in her heart a depth of love that is nothing short of heroic.

  For what it’s worth, most people’s reaction to my news so far has been remarkable in its compassion and understanding. My sister-in-law, for instance, said, “I’m so glad it’s only that you’re a woman; I was afraid it was something serious.” My mother said, “Love will prevail,” and while considering the drama of the changes, also noted, “We will adjust.”

  Colby’s president, Bro Adams—as well as the dean of faculty and the dean of students—have all expressed their respect for the journey I am taking and have pledged that the college will support me in every way it can. I have also been moved by the support of our Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity officer, Jean Fischman; the director of personnel services, Bob White; the director of creative writing, Debra Spark; and the chair of the English Department, Richard Redd. Given Colby’s tradition of honoring diversity, I am confident that my transition at school will be relatively smooth, once the initial surprise dies out. I am eagerly looking forward to getting back to the classroom and to continue the business of being a good teacher, a good writer, and a good friend.

  You might be wondering what you can or should do next. First, if you wish to learn more, you should know our library has an extensive collection of texts dealing with gender, culture, and transsexuality in particular. The best first book to read is True Selves by Chloe Rounsley and Mildred Brown; Eleanor Brubaker, at the reference desk, will be glad to suggest others to those interested in this subject.

  Second, you should talk this over with those you love. I would like to assist you in any way I can, both in terms of helping you to understand gender shift as a whole, and also in order to reassure you that I am still me, and that the person you have known for all these years remains, and will remain, relatively unchanged.

  Finally, speaking as an individual whose livelihood has come in part from her imagination, I want to say it’s all right to have a sense of humor about this. While I would prefer not to be the object of cruel jokes, I do hope that we can all recognize that wit and humor are likely to be therapeutic tools for all of us in this time of transition.

  In my classes on story structure and myth, I have often analyzed the journey of the classic heroine, as she moves through the stages in her adventure of “departure,” “initiation,” “return,” and “reign,” following the patterns described by Joseph Campbell and John Barth. The climax of these stories usually represents a kind of “moment of truth” for the heroine, when she must slay the dragon, conquer fear, and attain illumination.

  To my students I have always noted that the journey of the mythic hero appeals to us because this paradigm tells our own stories as well. In the story of the mythic hero, we see the story of ourselves.

  Which is to say that we all have dragons to slay in life. This one is mine. I hope that doing so will provide a model to others on how to find the bravery to be true to oneself, even if it means doing something that seems impossible.

  My adventure in the coming months will require honesty and courage. I am hopeful that with your help and understanding, I will be able to complete it.

  It has been a pleasure to work with, and for, you all over these last thirteen years. I look forward to continuing to serve as your colleague and your friend.

  With best wishes,

  Jenny Boylan

  To: russo@mint.net

  From: Jenny Boylan
  Dear Russo,

  I have been wondering if I was something of an idiot when I saw you last. Of course, I always wonder this the morning after drinking with you, and so I think perhaps that this is a sign that everything is normal.

  Boylan

  Dear Jenny,

  Sarah M——, your former student, here saying hello from Portland, Maine.

  I knew you as Jim, back in 1993, and boy did you rock my Colby world. I loved your style, your quirkiness, your gentleness, and your encouraging words to a young writer. I believe I had you for only one class but it imprinted on me. Thank you.

  And now I just want to welcome Jenny. A friend of mine gave me the he
ads-up on your webpage and I found myself deeply touched. I cannot really explain why the emotions came out. Maybe something about witnessing that sort of courage and unabashed integrity. The trueness to yourself. Maybe, too,

  remembering Jim the professor and knowing that you must have walked around carrying this heavy secret for so long . . . I feel that.

  I am so glad that you have chosen to shed that secret, burst out of that chrysalis. Thank you, too, for being a role model, as Jim and now as Jenny. I am sure you will inspire many folks to dig deep and be true to themselves.

  Many blessings to you.

  Much love, peace, and grace,

  Sarah

  From: “Russo”
  To: “Jenny Boylan”
  Dear Boylan,

  No, you weren’t an idiot when you were here last. In many respects it was a more difficult visit than most, in part due to Grace’s absence. I’m slowly coming to terms with the way our relationship is changing, and I’m very aware of being less natural with you now, as Jenny, than I was before, as Jim. I miss our former ease and hope that one day we may find some variation on that former theme.

  I dislike choosing my words carefully around my best friends, and one of the things I liked best about our old male friendship was that I could be more wide open with you than just about anyone. I hate to think of that ease being lost forever, but the loss seems inevitable for the short term. You’re in a very raw and vulnerable place, and you seem to require more sympathy and support than honesty at present, which was why I offered a small portion of the latter very tentatively and then felt horrible about doing so afterward.

  But I’m settling in for the long haul, because this period of transition involves not just what you’re going through, but also Grace’s transition into something different, and none of it’s going to happen overnight or as the result of any one thing (including surgery, right?). And, as I think I mentioned to you early on, while the most important people in my life are all women, I have no “easy” friendships with women, which suggests that the biggest challenge to redefining our friendship is probably me.

  But then my biggest problem has always been me.

  Russo

  From: Jenny Boylan
  To: Russo
  Dear Russo:

  That’s funny, my biggest problem has always been you, too.

  Boylan

  Dear Boylan:

  I think you’ll be pleased to know that the general consensus is that you are still “the best damn teacher on campus.” Keep up the good work.

  Noah Charney ’02

  Prof!

  Don’t take this the wrong way, but it takes a lot of balls to do what you’re doing. Wow. Without knowing much about your life or life in general (at the tender age of 24), it sounds like it’s going to be a bumpy road ahead for a while. But I have a feeling you’ll get through it. If you wrote a book about this, it could be one way to educate people about what you and what must be many others are going through.

  Anyway, stay out of trouble. And keep in touch.

  John Bishop ’99

  From: “Russo”
  To: “Jenny Boylan”
  Boylan—

  Jesus, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings all the while, but I’m not your worst problem.

  Russo

  Jenny, You may or may not remember me, but you were my English professor during my first semester at Colby, in the fall of 1989. I just wanted to let you know that a classmate of mine recently forwarded me the link to your official website, that I read about your gender transition, and that I fully support you and the choices you have made.

  You are one of the best teachers with whom I have had the good fortune to study, and I mark the beginning of my transition from an adolescent to an adult, intellectually speaking, with your class, in which I learned to read, write, and think at a new, higher level.

  When I think about Colby College, I think about the positive experiences I had in your class, and I think warmly about you.

  Best Regards,

  Matt K——, Program Manager

  Upper Chattahoochee Riverkeeper

  Professor Boylan,

  You are, by far, the most courageous person I have ever met. And I support your decision 100%, not that you were asking for anyone’s approval anyhow. I visited your new webpage, and damn, girl, you look good! I hope you are enjoying a somewhat relaxing summer. Mine has been boring (only left San Francisco once to deliver the eulogy at my grandfather’s memorial service), but I’ve been making lots of cash working as a nanny for a wonderful family that lives in my apartment building. I’m ready to return to Colby, though. I have to say I kind of miss Waterville in a very bizarre way.

  My very best wishes,

  Marley Orr, ’04

  P. S. What is your feeling on double majoring in English and psychology? My advisor hasn’t been much of a help to me, and I welcome any input you might have.

  From: Jenny Boylan
  To: Russo
  Dear Russo:

  Okay. Well, listen, Rick, I don’t know if I’m any less natural with you now—but I know what you mean. Of course I would like to encourage you to continue to relate to me just as you always have, but maybe this is like encouraging you not to see me as a woman.

  I think it is hard for me to be with people that I love for whom my transition is something other than a cause for unbridled celebration. I feel great these days, like somebody who just got out of prison after 40 years for something she didn’t do, like I got pardoned by the governor. When dear friends deal with me with mixed emotions, it is a little like being told, “Well, Jenny, we’re glad you got sprung, really, but quite honestly we did kind of like you better when you were in jail.”

  And yet, nobody knows better than I do that the consequences of my dealing with being transgendered are not a cause for celebration, at least not for those who love me the most. This is just something I have to figure out how to live with. For me it means being patient, accepting a fair amount of ambivalence where there used to be none. And that’s hard.

  But I think it’s part of the deal if I want to move forward. I’m sorry it’s so hard. In a way my friends are the ones who are in transition now.

  The conversation we had about how and whether people “choose” to be themselves has stayed with me, though—and it is interesting how you spoke of deciding consciously to become yourself. It was interesting that Barb said she couldn’t imagine this, and that the idea of choosing fate like that was strange to her. It gave me the helpful insight that I really did “choose” to be Jim every single day, but that once I put my sword down I haven’t chosen Jenny at all; I simply wake up and here I am.

  J

  P. S. The letters are pouring in now that I’m out. I’m up to 150 so far. Do I have to write them all back?

  [From Professor Jools Gillson-Ellis. She had been my colleague at University College, Cork.]

  Dear Jenny,

  Blimey. It’s better than a new hair cut.

  I’m so glad you wrote. Yes—it’s true, despite teaching lots of stuff to do with transgendered identities, your news profoundly unsettled me. I thought about you and your family for days. I think my whole psyche had to rework the Jim I knew when you were here in Ireland. I had a sense that something was held back, when you were here. I guess I just wrote it off as busy young parents.

  Vittorio (my lovely honey) and I have bought an old cottage by the sea in East Cork. It needs lots of work, and it’s still chaos, but we love it. We’ve only been here since August 1st, and himself is off in Rome visiting his family. So I am alone with the mad neighbours.

  For the first few days here, I was writing a letter to you in my head. It was about navigation, and how we sail through life. It was about the absolute primariness of gender, and the utter invisibility of that. It was about the taste of the journey you’ve t
aken, and how I wonder at it. It was about my curiosity, and your writing. It was one of the best letters I’ve ever not written, in fact.

  On the beach this morning we found strange sea creatures. They are small translucent ovals. Around their edges, there is a petrol blue skirt, and tiny tentacles. They aren’t like jellyfish at all. No one here knows what they are. We think they are a gift from the Gulf Stream. I brought some back to the cottage and sketched them. Strange things wash up on my shores, and you are not the first. I wish you love and a great imagination(!) If you’ve got this far, I am sure you have the strength to drag the rest of culture with you. It is fucking brilliant being a girl. Welcome.

  You’d better bloody visit soon.

  Joolser

  To: “Jenny Boylan”
  From: Russo
  Boylan—

  I too was fascinated by our discussion of choosing to be who we are the last time you were here. I think Barbara was stunned to consider our more fluid and “artful” sense of the self. She possesses very little artifice and even less guile, and she finds these hard to grasp in others. I loved and believed your story about the night you asked Grace to marry you and chose to be James, and I understand, at least theoretically, your metaphor of finally getting out of jail.

  What’s less convincing, for me at least (and I suspect many of your friends, though I don’t want to speak for them), is your claim that Jenny is not a choice—that she just naturally is, the way Barbara is, or Grace is. There are just too many of what seem (again, to me) wrong notes. You say you are Jenny, but to me it seems more like Jenny is somebody you need to be and want desperately to be and are determined to be. Like Gatsby, in way. He had to be Gatsby, not Jimmy Gatz, for anything in life to make sense. We’ve come to use this word (is) ironically, to suggest an excellent performance (“Paul Newman is Hud!”), even though we know he’s an actor. You insist that Jenny is the real you, but you played the other role so long and so convincingly that we can’t banish it.