I was very deeply honoured and, I will admit, not a little frightened to be asked to share my story for #IWD2021. This was a work event, and so I can't share the video replay on here, but I can share the text of what I had to say today.
The theme this year is #ChooseToChallenge and as this is the year that I kicked away all of the shards of the shell I hid inside of for so long, I feel especially connected to this theme. However, before I share my story for IWD, I wanted to pause to really acknowledge that this past year has been an incredibly challenging and difficult one for all women, but this is very especially true for minorities and the marginalized. The pandemic struck women especially hard and has threatened to undo much of our gains in recent years, especially in the workplace. We have a lot of work to do, in the months ahead, to change that trajectory and ensure that we continue to invest in, develop, and promote women.
What I Learned: 50 years of lessons that held me back and then propelled me forward
August 2nd, 1968: 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 24 inches tall and, based on a brief visual inspection, M. It was that last decision that would frame much of my learning for the next 50 years.
I was born the year after Pierre Trudeau famously said, “there is no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation.” The 70s and 80s were a difficult time to be LGBTQ+ and for trans kids, the message was especially harsh: clown or predator. Monty Python’s lumberjack song, Silence of the Lambs, and so much more framed the message that I received.
I learned that I was broken.
The school yard is always a tough place to be different. It didn’t take long to learn that you had to fit in. I got good at sports, I worked at it, because doing so was a form of self-defence and it allowed me to hide in plain sight. A lot of the insults on the field sent the message that being a girl was to be less than a boy.
I learned that I needed to hide.
When I was seven, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a stuffed pink rabbit. My mom offered up other things, for boys, but I wasn’t interested. She found one, after a lot of effort, but what stayed with me was the expressions formed from the unsaid words of all of the adults around me as I played with that toy.
I learned some things were not intended to be mine.
When I was in highschool, my cousin who was living with us and studying to be a beautician, made me up for a Halloween dance. I wore one of her outfits, still managed to fit into a pair of my Mom’s shoes, and off I went. I lasted a good part of the night, but eventually sore feet got to me, and I caught the bus home. The driver gave me a funny look, so I mumbled that famous line of all teenagers, “It was boring.” He smirked at me as he asked, in a nasty tone, “so not enough boys?”
I learned that I should be ashamed.
I suppressed my gender dysphoria as best I could after highschool. I even joined the Reserves, to make a man of myself! While it was a great experience in many ways, it certainly didn’t do the job I had intended. Eventually, I went on to College and, in my last year, I joined the Student Council. I remember that we hosted a Halloween party and I went in a cat costume. I didn’t even think about it, when I picked it out, but I got a lot of strange and disparaging looks that night.
I learned that there were boundaries I shouldn’t cross.
When I moved back to Toronto, the Internet was just becoming a thing. I found my community, but it was nascent and we were discovering ourselves. They said that if you didn’t have persistent and acute body dysphoria, you couldn’t really be trans, that you must be a crossdresser. I didn’t fit these definitions and clothing didn’t make me feel better, it often made me feel worse.
I learned that I couldn’t know who I was.
It was then that I spent the next 25 years drinking away my confusion. Until, early in 2020, a good friend came out as trans and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. We met for lunch, she told me her story, and it was like she was telling my story. What I saw, however, was that she was happy and that she was glowing and, well, I wanted that too.
I learned that there’s a light that shines brightly from within when you come out of a dark place.
I sought help in March; I think it saved my life. What is learned can be unlearned and my therapist helped me to do that. In July, I started hormone replacement therapy. Within weeks, my life was turned completely around. I was eating better and exercising, and my alcohol consumption plummeted… Things about me started to make sense.
I learned who I was.
January 12th this year, I dropped the role that I had played for more than 52 years and shared my true self with the world.
I learned that I could be me.
In recent months, more than a few people have said to me, “you’re glowing!” I suppose I am. It’s that light, you see, it really does shine brightly as you come out of a dark place.
I learned that it is never too late to challenge what you have been taught and to become truly who you were meant to be.
and so, this is how it goes
she thought
as she bent
to collect the pieces
of herself
and
arranged them into a bouquet
to share them
with another.
- Kimmery Moss
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