Educator by day, poet, painter, artist, and cook whenever possible.
I’ve been wondering a lot lately about how to go about telling this story. My story. Our story. I, and probably you, see the popular version of what it means to be a transgender woman in many of our media outlets.
First, I am amazed to find such beauty, such authenticity among our many sisters. I have seen the miraculous images of transitions, and the common denominator is the happiness that comes across when they finally cross the threshold. That’s what being in alignment with one’s self looks like–joy, understanding, truth.
Yet there is an untold story behind the images, behind the brief peeks at a process, which is, as we all know, as much an internal transition as it is an external one. I want to capture that transformation, that development, that emerging and expanding of a new identity.
That is the story. It is not a new story, but it’s a story we need to tell ourselves over and again. In that story, and in each of our tellings of it, we come back to our source, our very source, again and again, and drink ourselves from the fountain of life.
Transgender Transcendentalism 