Weddingbee Blog

Some of you more observant and savvy folks out there may be able to guess what this post will be all about. Here’s a hint:

{then}



{and now}

So that’s Mr. FW, and Mr. FW is transgender (or just trans, for short). He was born genetically female but has been transitioning to a male body and a male identity since the Fall of 2009.

Side note: I know this could potentially be a lightning rod issue here in the Hive, so I want to make it clear that I’m only posting this in an effort to tell the truth about my life—not to start a war of words. That said, I welcome your comments and questions—including ones that represent a difference of opinion—but I just ask you to please be respectful of me and other Hive members. I know I can trust y’all to do just that.

Most of the “big” changes have already happened and there will continue to be a lot of smaller changes that will happen over the next few years. But what I most wanna talk about is how this has changed our relationship and, by extension, me.

During our first four years together, Mr. FW and I were actually a lesbian couple. So all those formative relationship years, where we were getting to know each other and beginning to plan our future together, we were two women. The person I knew was a woman, and the future I envisioned was with a woman. Even though I’ve historically identified as bisexual or queer, being in a 4-year relationship with a woman had a way of shifting my identity towards the lesbian side of the spectrum. That’s what people saw when we walked down the street, so for all intents and purposes, that’s what we were.

Cut to early 2009, when Mr. FW “came out” to me as transgender. I had a flurry of feelings and went through many different and wildly varying reactions in that first month. There are several things I’d change about that time if I could do it all over again, but I try not to be too hard on myself for what that process looked like. I have trans friends and I’ve worked with trans clients, but I think things are different when they touch you personally and when they’ll change your life so drastically. It really only took that first month before Mr. FW and I again felt really solid as a couple. That’s not to say we haven’t had gender-related issues we’ve had to work through since then, but after that first month it was pretty clear that we were both committed to the relationship come hell or high water.

People say to me all the time, “This must be so hard for you.” And sometimes it is hard, but maybe not for the reasons that people might think. Truly the hardest part for me is a loss of identity. Since I was young I have strongly identified with being non-heterosexual. Yes, I was attracted to men. But I was attracted to women also. And the sole defining factor of my attraction is generally someone’s personality. Mr. FW’s personality hasn’t changed, so he really feels like the same person to me. It’s not the changes in him that have been difficult; it’s the changes in other people that are really tough for me.

These days it’s very rare for us to be seen as anything but a heterosexual couple when we walk down the street. And let me just say for the record—the world feels so different as a heterosexual couple.

image via sayingimages.com

Yes, we live in San Francisco where some of those differences are washed away in the culture. But even in San Francisco there are times when I meet someone who is LGBT-identified and when I talk to them about my partner without the pronoun “she,” I no longer have the benefit of that feeling of…family. That connection that comes when you realize you share something important in common with someone else. That’s a big loss that I notice quite frequently.

When we venture outside this happy urban oasis, what I notice is how it feels to live a life where people aren’t watching you all the time. We walk down the street and people don’t even notice us, which you’d think would be a good thing. And it is, don’t get me wrong. But I’m realizing the extent to which being in a lesbian relationship necessarily made me feel different and special and strong. I learned to be ready to defend my relationship at a moment’s notice, or to shrug off nasty comments, or to walk by gaping strangers with my head held high. And now… well… now I don’t need that strength as often, and I don’t feel that specialness as much. That’s a big loss, and it’s something I’m working to recover in other ways.

Just as I have been patient and as understanding as possible with Mr. FW’s transition, so he has been wonderfully patient and understanding of the transition this has meant for me. That’s one of the reasons I know that our marriage will be a successful one, because we have already come so far and dealt with so much. Together. As a couple. As a formerly-lesbian-now-kinda-heterosexual couple.

I know in this post I haven’t talked about concrete issues like name change, legal process, family reactions, or any of those other ways that a gender change impacts a relationship and a wedding. I’ll try to cover those topics in a future post(s), especially if you’re interested.

Now, Hive, what questions do you have for me about trans stuff? (Feel free to ask anonymously, as a ’guest.’) I’m happy to answer questions I feel comfortable with, either in the comments or in another post, and I’ll let you know if something feels too personal to me.

And has anyone else dealt with a world-rocking change during the course of your relationship?