On a good day I catch a glimpse of myself, a reason to grin. My smile feels like a blessing, permission to enjoy my existence and embrace the coming day. On a bad day I trace the scars of indecision on my face with my fingertips.
Category: Features
We go to healthcare providers as we trust them to have our best interest at heart and know the correct treatment, but this can open up the opportunity to experience discrimination and bias when seeking healthcare due to both of these characteristics.
Perhaps this feeling is a consequence, at least to some extent, of the near-ubiquitous before-and-after pictures of hormonal transition. These photos omit the difficult middle, offering instead an arbitrarily selected “after”.
Instead of my lack of energy being seen as evidence of mental illness, it was, to them, evidence that I wasn’t serious about being trans. Surely if I was trans, I would try harder to look like a man, even if I was incredibly ill?
When I got my diagnosis two years later, everything started making more sense for me; every time socialising had gone pear-shaped, every time my sensory overwhelm had made me angry and ‘difficult to be around.’ All of those times I had never fit in with others were simply because we weren’t wired the same.
SJ Zhang writes that healthcare providers need to take into account if you’re a person of colour, because “your background, heritage, your upbringing, [can mean] it’s a lot more difficult for you to come out to your family.”