An open letter to Tom Gabel, who is set to become Laura Jane Grace

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/may/11/tom-gabel-laura-jane-grace

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<blockquote><em>Stop! Take some time to think, figure out what's important to you.</em><br /><em>You've got to make a serious decision. – </em>Stop!, by Against Me!</blockquote>

Hi, it's me – CL. Just another transsexual on the internet come to wish you a hearty welcome, after reading in Rolling Stone magazine that you planned to live as a woman. To transition! Like anything, it's just the beginning of the rest of your life, but that's the point, isn't it? To begin to really live your life. I'm not going to even bother talking about all the things that are happening to your body. By now you know the details, gruesome, enlightening, and even delightful; if our readers want to know them, they're a click away.

There's going to be pain, yes – physical and emotional. Joy too. Many days, you'll want to cry. Sometimes this may feel liberating, but mostly it will be a pain in the ass.

All transitions are brave alike, but public transitions are each brave in their own unique way. I won't lie, this is going to be hard – and it's even harder to do it in the spotlight of public opinion. But the opposite would have been hard too, you know. There are things I accomplished in my pre-transition life that now I find myself reticent to talk about, afraid to bring more complication into a life grown already more complicated than I ever thought possible.

People will surprise you, for good and for ill. Some you assumed would be accepting will disappoint you. And some of the people you would never think able to accept you will prove themselves greater allies than you could have ever hoped for. An uncle of mine who worked for years in the gay community is estranged from me now, while an aunt of mine who lives in the heart of the American Bible Belt showed me more love and acceptance than any of my other relatives. These things will work themselves out, but not in patterns you can easily predict. Your music is cool and your fans will be there – the ones you really want in any case.

You say your wife has been supportive, which is great. People will probably not understand your relationship. They can, as my father used to say, "go pound sand". (I never understood what that meant either, but it sure sounds negative.) You're hardly alone; I've known many couples who have survived transition, and in my own personal experience the majority of trans women I know are either attracted exclusively to women or are, like myself, bisexual. People will probably mention Jennifer Finney Boylan's books, which are excellent, but I'd personally say you should take a look at Helen Boyd's works, which are insightful and pull no punches on what it's like to be married to someone who transitions to being a woman.

It's not exactly shocking, is it? That you would want to stay with someone you're attracted to, that you love, that you've built a life with? Or that she might want to stay with you as well? Is it surprising that maybe attraction, love, and affection can be about more than just a category defined at birth, a straight-jacketed adherence to gender and sexual roles? I hope not.

A final word. People will try to read your life, to seek out the "roots" of who you are, to treat your experience as a project in literary criticism – as if everything you've suffered and undergone was a smooth trajectory to this momentous moment. They'll look at the lyrics to your song The Ocean and point them out as predictive, stereotyped, or unrealistic, or anything else they want to project:

<blockquote>If I could have chosen, I would have been born a woman<br />My mother once told me she would have named me Laura<br />I would grow up to be strong and beautiful like her<br />One day I'd find an honest man to make my husband<br />We would have two children, build our home on the Gulf of Mexico<br />Our family would spend hot summer days at the beach together</blockquote>

I listened to that song today, and I don't find it to be either projection or wishful thinking. I think that you were reaching for something, for some possible future that never was; not something aspirational, but something that you could have had, might have been. You will now build a life you could never have imagined, but which will feel like coming home.

And that is worth it. Grow up strong and beautiful. And good luck.

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