One Year of Being Visible

The invisibility cloak was pretty drab looking.

Tossing Away The Cloak

It was exactly one year ago today that I made a public coming out post detailing how a psychedelic experience had guided me to come out as a queer transgender woman (in the midst of a pandemic, no less). A few months later, thanks to British Columbia’s amazing group of health care support workers collectively known as Trans Care BC, I began female hormone replacement therapy and am approaching my 8 month hormone-iversary.

Undergoing something like this is no easy task on its own, and a worldwide pandemic didn’t make matters any simpler. In some ways, it has allowed me to slip into my new state of being in a very gradual way, and in others it’s made certain crucial aspects of doing so until we arrive at whatever the ‘after-times’ will look like.

Decisions and Consequences

It was the pandemic, ironically, that is probably why I chose to come out now rather than later (or at all). At this time last year, the overall impact of the pandemic was still up for debate, and it was somewhat reasonable to assume that this was going to be the cataclysm that might make human civilization unrecognizable. A favourite quote of mine from Star Trek : The Next Generation is ‘If we’re going to be damned, let’s be damned for what we really are.’ I decided to follow that statement to its logical end.

The immediate reception by my friends, my networks, and my profession was overwhelmingly positive. I can’t thank each of these groups of people enough. While not having to deal with the issue of coming out to family is a tiny positive, the deficit of not having the support some other might is a big one. My ‘chosen family’, however, certainly made up for it.

All that said, there were consequences to my decision. Some business opportunities closed, and I did begin to see the impacts of the loss of privilege. While relatively minor compared to many things like homelessness and physical safety that many trans people encounter, it still drove home how society at large treats those falling outside its hegemonies. The calculus for coming out often has little to do with whether we know we are transgender, but rather the perception of and treatment by society at large. This is something largely left out of current narrative around de-transitioning, however that discussion is best left for a separate post.

2020 and Babylon 5

In keeping with the occasional sci-fi reference drop that I do in Highvy’s House of Hot Takes, I’ll broadly frame this past year through the Season 4 introduction of Babylon 5.

It was the year of fire, the year of destruction.

It was certainly a year of fire and destruction for the world, and on a personal level. My industry narrowly avoided widespread destruction by being designated as essential in Canada, both federally and provincially. Living in isolation for a whole year now has had a sustained impact on my mental health, the sheer magnitude of which I’ve only fully realized recently. Some relationships didn’t survive the cataclysm that was the year 2020.

It was the year we took back what was ours.

It was a year that I took back an identity that I’ve known was mine since I was around 14 years old, and also took back the freedom to exist without constant anxiety, shame, and fear. I was shocked to discover how much of my anxiety was wrapped up in gender dysphoria, even in isolation it’s been incredibly pronounced. I can only imagine that in whatever social interaction will be in the after times, it’ll be even greater. Of all the things I’m looking forward to in the post-pandemic era, being the fun-loving, vivacious, happy person I am at my core on a consistent basis in public is definitely #1.

It was a year of rebirth.

It was certainly the beginning of rebirth, but that process is far from complete. As the subtitle to this post implies, I have only begun to shed an identity that wasn’t mine, and reform everything to really discover who Ivy is, and how she prefers to exist. I’ve spoken on how psychedelics sometimes allow us a peek at the conclusion of all of our self-work, and I have definitely met my truest self on a few occasions. I think she’s really cool, and can’t wait to see her in the mirror every morning. I am even more excited to find out what kind of music she likes, what her favourite colour is, and what kinds of parties she most likes to attend.

It was a year of great sadness.

There was certainly great sadness, and pain in my 2020. Even though the cannabis industry was designated as essential, the impacts of COVID are apparent. Working in a volatile industry is hard, and even more so during a pandemic. I’m happy, and proud that the team I work with has made it to 2021, but there are many who haven’t.

It was a year of pain, and a year of joy.

It was painful to see some relationships not survive. Some of these were not due to my actions specifically, and some were. The flames of rebirth have definitely burned many, and while it may have been necessary for a variety of reasons, I still feel sadness. It was very painful to have a new vantage point from which to observe how awful the world is to marginalized people. We still have a lot to do on behalf of LGBTQ+, BIPOC, and every other person on planet Earth that some group or another with power has decided isn’t deserving of being able to thrive.

It was most certainly also a year of joy. Finding immense support among my networks, particularly all those who identify as female. One of the greatest fears of a transgender woman is not ever being accepted as female, and I can say outside of the usual trans-exclusionary radical feminist enclave, that largely hasn’t happened. In my previous post I mentioned that hidden inner-layer of female social interactions, and largely being admitted to that group without question is one of the most joyous things I’ve ever experienced.

The very nature of joy has changed, thanks to having stepped through the door of HRT to estrogen-induced bliss and serenity. Actually having emotions, both for the good and bad has been an amazing experience. Even if I was required to spend most of my week in tears and only have a day of joy, I would take that arrangement in a second. Having a body slowly, but surely cease to be less of a contradiction with the nature of my soul has been the physical manifestation of joy.

It was a new age. It was the end of history. It was the year everything changed.

2020 was certainly the year everything changed, and was the end of one edition of history, for both the world and myself in particular. Only very recently have I been able to internalize what this means, and the opportunities that it might present. I would be remiss in not mentioning the new social media platform Clubhouse, as it has certainly played a pivotal role.

I joined in September of 2020, and my experience in the first few months was otherworldly. Being so warmly received by some of the world’s top thinkers, makers, and doers was nothing short of magical. Voice social is intimate, and being able to experience a brand new platform that was devoid of trolling, and experiencing validation and being seen while never being made to feel as an ‘other’ is something I can’t quite put into words.

Many of the people I met are now in my phone, and we have shared intimate moments of all of the elements of humanity mentioned in this post like sadness, pain, and joy. Although the platform is now less of a safe place, particularly for trans people, it’s a place that has changed me forever, for the better. Not only in the connections and emotions that have been shared, but in personal development that I’ve been challenged to accomplish elsewhere. This is, I think, a function of both the intimacy that platform sometimes fosters and the vulnerability everyone in the midst of a pandemic is feeling.

My Own Mean Girls Moments

I think I joined as perhaps a more soft-spoken iteration of my Twitter persona: Witty, sometimes abrasive, and always looking to speak truth to power. In an odd way, I think from here I was able to fill that gap that many trans people face as far as never having been able to go through formative social experiences in their true identity. It began with a very burning man-esque experience, transitioning to a community leader, an unfortunate bit of clout-zilla / mean-girlsing and probably ending up much in the same place as Cady Heron in the end of actual Mean Girls. I really do feel my second shot at going through high school was more fulfilling and led to more personal growth than attempt number one, and I’d like to think within the past year I’ve moved from being an inner-teenager to an inner-young woman.

Time is very compressed on Clubhouse, and I also feel like another aspect of my phoenix transformation also happened there in short order. I’m sad and regretful for the people it has burned, but very joyous at the prospect of the rest of that process hopefully being a little less volatile and harmful to both myself and others.

It’s hard to arrive at an accurate summary of the events of the past year. It’s still hard to sometimes believe I’ve not only achieved a senior position in an industry that I love, have developed a ‘following’, and am able to do all of this while in alignment in my soul.

The year is 2021, and the place I inhabit is an Earth that’s been forever changed. I too, have been forever changed by the year that was, and I’m very excited to explore the uncharted territory of what that change means. I most certainly have a predilection for ‘getting in my own way’, and I’m extremely hopeful that the events of the last year will finally allow me to move beyond it. I’m confident that I’m now in a position to step into the person, and realize the existence that I’ve always known I’m capable of.