by Maria Margetts
I never knew I was trans – I just knew I was different; I stole my mom’s clothes when I was little until they no longer fit. Growing up in the ‘70s and ‘80s I didn’t dare say anything. My father would have thrown me out in a heartbeat and I had no point of reference for what those feelings could mean. I just knew I was me and didn’t think that anyone would understand. By the time I got married I hadn’t ‘indulged’ myself for quite a while. The thought of getting feminine clothes from shops and hiding them in my room, it was unthinkable.
The moment I found myself again came a couple of years into my marriage; I bought some clothes for my wife Mandy’s birthday but she didn’t like them. I tried them on and thought, “Hang on, I remember this!”. This had an immediate impact on who I thought of myself as. I sat down with my wife and told her what I had done and how I felt. She was not a happy bunny, she thought I had lied to her. I hadn’t, I had hidden myself away so much I didn’t think it was important but dressing again made me realise it was. She struggled at first, but loved me and learned to cope with this side of me. I knew how hard it was for her so I only came out at home. There were times when it caused friction and it was the only thing we really argued about.
I crossdressed through the rest of our marriage. I didn’t think I needed anything else because I loved my wife and I didn’t know that trans people existed. I was just me. My wife was afraid of what people would say and I only went out femme alone, late at night. However, in the two years before she died, my wife came out with me as Maria maybe five times. All the time we had our hearts in our mouths, waiting for someone to say something. I understand why my wife was concerned, the fear of the unknown.
February 2015 my world collapsed when my wife of nearly 25 years, died of metastatic cancer. She had suffered with 2 bouts over 7 years, the last one in unbearable agony because of where the tumour was pressed against her intercostal nerve. It was a very difficult time for all of us. We have 2 kids who were 12 and 14 when she died, but she tried her hardest to make things as normal as she could cope with.
It had been a hard life. Our first son died and then we adopted our two children. We found that my daughter had special needs and dealing with her condition was and still is difficult. Then Mandy had cancer and spent seven years struggling with it. The impact was without measure.
My wife dying destroyed me and the kids. The enormous grief of losing my partner and soulmate, of working full time, looking after my kids who had their own grief and their own issues was, at times, too much to cope with.
In that first year I tried to become Maria on my own and to be at one with my trans identity; but within five minutes of changing I went upstairs and changed again, so upset with myself. I couldn’t function without her input, without her blessing. This just added to my misery.
I met my new partner, also a widow, about a year after my wife died. We met on a blind date, and she had been looking through my other Facebook profile where she saw photos of me dressed as a woman at work for Red Nose Day. She asked “Do you do this often?” And I immediately said “Yes, this is me”.
My new partner was nothing like my wife, but in a strange coincidence she was also called Mandy. This other side of me didn’t hold so much fear over her. It still took her about 18 months before she realised it wasn’t just a phase or a midlife crisis. She helped me express myself, and through the first steps she was there holding my hand.
Over a period of about three years I came out first to friends, then my widow support group, then my workplace where I had been for 30 years, then Windowed and Young (WAY) where I was a volunteer and am now an ambassador. I interviewed for my new job under my deadname but was using a female photo card within 3 days of starting. In 2020 I joined the NHS gender care waiting list (still waiting) and changed my via deed poll in 2022.
Being trans and a widow, I have seen nothing but love in the widowed community. As the Ambassador for LGBTQ+ members, I administer the LGBTQ+ group on Facebook and have been on Podcasts for WAY and for Widowed AF about being widowed and trans. My proudest moment was in 2022 when I became part of a campaign for Hospice UKs “Dying Matters” – #Iremember.
Being Maria hasn’t been easy. Far from it. The current climate in the UK for trans people, especially trans women, has been getting steadily worse over the last few years. The things being said about us is so upsetting because it is all just lies. Hearing former prime ministers calling me and my trans siblings an ‘ideology’ is just gnawing at my psyche. When I came out in 2017 things looked so promising, that I didn’t need to be hidden anymore. Now not so much.
But I won’t hide again. I’m Maria and I’m out. I’ve been through so much and I’m still here. I became Maria because of this; because I have support around me from friends, family and my widow community, and because of the widow’s mantra: “You have one life to live. So go live it”.
Maria is an Ambassador for Widowed and Young.
WAY aims to provide peer-to-peer emotional and practical support to ALL young widowed people –married or not, with or without children, inclusive of sexual orientation, gender, race and religion.