Trans ROCHESTER Speaks

Overcompensating to hide her femininity, Bills lived as a hyper-masculine biker. She refers to it as her facade that kept the world from questioning her until she was able to reconcile her gender. Eventually, the stress of living as a man was too much, and she decided to step down from her position as president of a motorcycle club.

One night at a meeting, she simply resigned without giving a reason. After the meeting, she came out to Froggy, her most loyal friend in the club. Though he did not quite understand, Froggy promised to support Bills.

A few weeks later, Froggy and Bills went to a bar together in Newark, NY while Bills was dressed as a woman. Initially she was apprehensive, but Froggy vowed to protect her. Upon entering the bar, people stared and snickered at Bills until Froggy stood up for her, threatening to harm anyone who chastised Bills. After that night, Froggy told Bills he would remain loyal to her, and the two still remain friends.

In the mid 1990s, Bills transitioned in her workplace at Xerox. As a result of her transition, she was moved to a different department, along with a Chinese man and a Hispanic woman, where she was given impossible work assignments. If she failed to complete her job, she would be fired for incompetence. Recognizing the intentional maltreatment, Bills advocated for herself and her coworkers, and eventually they were returned to their original departments. Bills adds that she also was not allowed to use the women’s restroom after she transitioned.

In 1999, Bills began transition care with Dr. Diego Cahn-Hidalgo in Rochester. Due to lack of insurance and other issues, she had to leave his supportive practice. In the coming years, Bills struggled through inadequate medical treatment and several doctors who openly discriminated against her due to her gender identity. She discusses her experiences with doctors who refused to touch her or write her prescriptions.

After hearing about Dr. William Valenti from a friend, Bills found his profile on Facebook and they developed a personal relationship with him immediately, even before she had a scheduled appointment with him. This friendship became stronger when Bills met Valenti in person at Trillium Health. During the appointment, they mostly talked and shared stories. Bills describes the positive treatment she has received from the entire staff at Trillium Health and notes that her prescriptions are always filled quickly and with ease. In addition to medical care, she has received legal aid from Trillium Health to begin the process of changing the gender markers on her state ID and her birth certificate.

After marriage equality was passed in New York, gay activism waned despite struggles still faced by the transgender community. Bills refers to the recent rise in transgender visibility as simply 'this year’s theme” and asserts that it is “too little too late.'

Bills describes her frustration with the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA), a contentious piece of legislation which would grant employment protections to the LGBT community on the basis of sexual orientation. As Bills notes, one draft of ENDA explicitly included protections on the basis of gender identity and expression, which would have served to protect the transgender community, but politicians reduced the legislation to a bathroom issue, arguing that transgender people should not be allowed to use public bathrooms. In order to pass the legislation, protections for gender identity and expression were removed, at the expense of the trans community. The gay community praised this draft and supported it. Bills remains bitter about this political betrayal, saying they 'wanted it so bad, [they] forgot about us.'

Hungry and looking for a food pantry, Bills stumbled upon Third Presbyterian Church in Rochester. There she met the minister Deborah Hughes, and she was welcomed into the congregation with open arms. At other churches, Bills had felt displaced, despite their claims of being accepting of LGBT people, but at Third Presbyterian, she was a cherished member. Another minister, Martha Langford, appointed a special committee of friends and church members who were dedicated to ensuring Bills’ health.

In the years that Bills has been a member of Third Presbyterian, she has influenced change by installing a Forever Candle and extending the hours of the chapel to welcome more people. Several times she reiterates the welcoming nature of the church, especially in regards to queer and trans people.

When Barres was 19 years old, her mother found a nightgown in the bathroom. Barres admitted it was hers, and her confession immediately altered her relationship with her parents, the effects of which she would feel for decades to come. Her parents questioned her sexuality and insisted that she see a psychiatrist. Reluctantly compliant, Barres made an appointment at the University of Rochester Medical Center, though she only filled out intake information and never actually saw a doctor. She adds this was where she first heard the word “crossdresser.” Barres’ parents, believing her crossdressing was just a phase, never talked about the incident again.

Working for Kodak International, Barres travelled frequently all over the world. During this time, she would cross-dress secretly in hotel rooms. While in London, she bought a book and a magazine about men who dressed up as women. She was careful to hide these among less incriminating magazines, emphasizing her paranoia.

In South Africa, Barres bought a nightgown and, telling the saleswoman it was a gift for her wife, requested that it be gift wrapped. At night in her hotel room, Barres would wear the nightgown, then carefully fold it up, return it to its box, and tape it shut. This allowed her to hide her secret as she travelled through customs. Additionally, Barres removed the covers from the books she kept in her briefcase. She reiterated her fear of being outed and referred to this era as 'a time of hiding.'

Barres was very close to her cousin George, who was living in Washington DC. In December 1988, he was involved in a car accident and was found dead.

At the time, Barres was working in Latin American region for Kodak. A mutual friend informed her of George’s death on the same day as the accident. After attending George’s funeral, Barres called Monroe Medical Society to find a doctor that could help her transition. As an only child, Barres considered George her sibling, and she was devastated by losing him. Recognizing that they were both 44 years old, Barres faced her mortality and started an odyssey to find herself.

As Barres got older, she developed digestive issues related to mental and emotional stress. After a series of medical tests that did not yield any results, she decided to see Dr. Edelson, a therapist in Rochester. Edelson theorized that Barres wanted to emulate women because she wanted to prove she was better than a woman. Edelson told Barres to stop crossdressing and promised his treatments would “break it.”

In the late 1980s, Barres’ stress-related stomach issues got worse, and she began seeing Dr. Robert Horn. Horn urged Barres to quit crossdressing entirely, and through treatment he attempted to convince Barres that it was “great being a guy.”

Finally, in January of 1989, Barres began seeing Pamela Walter. Walter encouraged Barres to come to her appointments dressed as a woman. She also recommended books to Barres relating to transsexualism. Barres underwent psychological testing at the University of Rochester Medical Center, a process which she now belittles, and medical professionals declared her a “certified transsexual.”

Around 1986, Barres confided her growing gender dysphoria with her wife. She had heard about a group for crossdressers, and she serendipitously found an advertisement for a crossdressing group in the personals section of the newspaper. She describes her hesitation to join the group, and by the time she finally built up the courage to call the number in the ad, it had been disconnected.

Later in 1989, Barres’ therapist, Pamela Walters, introduced her to Reg Phillips, who became the first transsexual person Barres ever met. Phillips introduced Barres to the group she had been looking for. This group was originally known as Transvestites Anonymous, but the members changed the name to the CD Network.

Barres fondly recounts getting ready for her first meeting with the group, which included purchasing a “god-awful” wig and having her makeup done by a drag queen. She notes that the group would often go to lesbian bars after meetings, particularly Rosie’s on Monroe Ave.

In this clip, Barres describes the Transvestites Anonymous group and its evolution from a support group into the CD Network. The group was original founded by Horace Lethbridge, a therapist and gay man, who started a support group for men, both gay and straight, who liked to “dress up.” In 1985, members claimed ownership of the group, naming it Transvestites Anonymous, and published their own newsletter. Members renamed the group the CD Network in December of 1989, favoring a more discreet name.

In order to maintain privacy and anonymity within the group, members used pseudonyms and avoided last names during group meetings. Barres notes that sometimes she would see people outside of the group, and she adds “we were all very careful” to remain discreet.

The group met at Dr. Lethbridge’s counselling office on Wellesley Street in Rochester. Barres describes the space as very confined. Typically members would bring feminine clothing to the meeting and would get dressed in the cramped bathroom, which Barres insists was the size of a movie theater popcorn machine.

Barres briefly alludes to the differences between crossdressers and transsexuals. She always identified as a transsexual, but during the late 1980s, she assumed the role of a crossdresser because she felt that living fully as a woman and maintaining her current lifestyle was simply impossible. This suggests that crossdressing was viewed as a behavior while transsexualism was an identity.

Soon after joining the CD Network in 1989, group members told Barres about Fantasia Fair, an annual convention for crossdressers and transsexuals, from group members. The next year, in 1990, Barres attended the Fair for a long weekend in October.

Barres recounts traveling from Rochester to the convention in Provincetown, Massachusetts. As she traveled eastward through New York State, she stopped at each rest stop along the Thruway to paint her nails, put on her wig, and gradually get dressed. By the time she reached Massachusetts, she was dressed fully as Pam.

“And my life changed.”

At Fantasia Fair, Barres met a number of influential women and crossdressers, including Joanne Roberts, who founded Renaissance Education Association, and Virginia Prince, who founded the Tri-Ess crossdresser organization. Barres describes Virginia Prince and her Tri-Ess organization as “all very homophobic.” Barres goes on to recount other people she met at the Fair, adding that she “wish[es] [she] would’ve known their real names.”

While meeting other women at Fantasia Fair, Barres became aware of crossdressing groups that existed all across the country, including cities in which she had traveled frequently earlier in her life. Decades before, she was secretly crossdressing alone in hotel rooms, unaware of the groups that existed in those same cities.

Upon leaving Fantasia Fair and Provincetown, Barres was overcome with emotion. She recalled, “It was so wonderful to be there and just to be a woman all that time.”

DeLaney describes communities in Rochester as wonderfully welcoming, and he notes that his exceptional experiences have influenced his own group. While living with his spouse and son, he began to feel dissatisfied with his life as a housewife. He tried identifying as a lesbian and joined the Rochester Women’s Community Chorus, which was his first exposure to the gay and lesbian community. However, he quickly realized that he did not share the same experiences as his lesbian friends. He began identifying as trans and joined the Trans Action Group, which functioned as a support group and activist hub for trans and gender nonconforming people. With the support of his friends from TAG, DeLaney was able to experiment with his gender, but as he tried on new pronouns and new names, he found his lesbian friends were unable to keep up. He felt a stronger connection to his friends at TAG.

However, DeLaney was not attached to the political activism in which the Trans Action Group was involved. He instead used the group to meet people and explore his identity. While other members of TAG elevated the importance of civil disobedience and lobbying, DeLaney came to understand activism as creating safe spaces and basic support networks for people. Eventually, the Trans Action Group dissolved, and in the void left behind, DeLaney decided to start his own group, the Genesee Valley Gender Variants.

After the Trans Action Group dissolved in 2011, DeLaney felt the need to create a space for gender nonconforming people to explore gender and find support through a non-judgemental community. Bunny Kramer, who organized the lesbian group LezConnect, told DeLaney about a group member who did not quite identify as a lesbian but felt they had nowhere else to go. Recognizing the immediate need for this group, DeLaney promoted the Genesee Valley Gender Variants on social media and, during the advertised meeting times, sat at a table at Equal Grounds Coffee House. For the first few weeks, the group consisted of DeLaney, his friend, and the person from LezConnect. Eventually more people heard about the group, which now regularly fills the entire coffee shop. Members are as diverse as they are numerous, with ages ranging from teens to seventies.

According to DeLaney, the group has become wildly popular because it fills an often overlooked need in the community: a space where people can simply be themselves without fear of judgement. With little structure to meetings, members are able to determine what best suits their needs that specific day. Sometimes members share their experiences regarding community resources and work to improve those resources, while other times members simply play board games or share makeup tips. DeLaney believes there are countless other trans people in the Rochester area who are not yet out, and he hopes GV2 can be a place where they find support.

DeLaney briefly discusses the differences and similarities between the Genesee Valley Gender Variants and the Trans Alliance of Greater Rochester. While TAGR is more structured and encourages members to talk specifically about gender-related issues, GV2 is less rigid and allows members to interact with others in a non-judgemental space.

DeLaney first publically identified as queer in 2005 while attending a marriage equality rally. At the time, he presented as female and was in a heterosexual marriage. He received a poster at the rally that said “Loving Couples Deserve Marriage” and carried it proudly as he rode the bus home.

Later when marching in the Rochester Pride Parade, DeLaney wore a shirt that said “Bisexual Not Invisible.” Unfamiliar with being identified as bisexual in public, he initially felt embarrassed wearing the shirt, but he eventually learned how to cope with the sometimes awkward feeling of visibility.

Now DeLaney’s body reflects his nonconforming gender, and he is recognizably queer regardless of the slogan on his shirt or the political sign in his hand. Without his previous experiences, he acknowledges it may have been harder to endure his blatant queerness. He compares this to confronting medical treatments as a child and then as an adult. Eventually he learned what to expect, and he came to understand that expressing his true gender is worth the risks associated with becoming visible.

Valuing transparency and authenticity, DeLaney has always been open with this son, Aiden, about his sexuality, gender, and all other facets of his life. His son marched with him in pride parades and frequently attends Genesee Valley Gender Variant meetings, where he has developed close friendships with many other members. DeLaney recalls when his son first called him “Dad,” though he admits he still serves a maternal role and is often referred to as “Mom” as well. Returning the honesty, DeLaney’s son has been very open about his own sexuality and gender.

DeLaney never made a conscious effort to explain his transition to his son. Rather they just discussed things casually as they were pertinent in their lives. DeLaney never felt the need to hide his identity from his son.

Around 2010, AIDS Rochester, a local HIV clinic, approached the Trans Alliance of Greater Rochester to assess the need in the community for trans health care. According to DeLaney, the clinic recognized that their specialized services could benefit more members of the LGBT community, and the clinic rebranded as Trillium Health.

At the time of the interview in 2014, Trillium Health was a new resource for the community. While some people have reported negative experiences with the clinic, DeLaney describes Trillium as a personally supportive and positive experience, and he adds that staff are still learning how to better serve the transgender community. DeLaney emphasizes that his experience is not universal, and many in the community are opposed to LGBT specific clinics.

Valuing lived experience over clinical knowledge, DeLaney has always felt more comfortable seeing female doctors, particularly when dealing with reproductive health. Although he would ideally prefer a trans male doctor, he appreciates that cis female doctors have personal and intimate experience with anatomy similar to his.

When he started his freshman year at Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts, Waters identified as a lesbian. On campus, he found freedom to explore his gender and sexuality, along with many other facets of his identity, and found community at the Lesbian Center.

In 1994, when Waters was in his junior year at Rutgers University, he read Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg. He explains the significance of this book, not only to him but to the lesbian community as a whole. This book reintroduced butch and femme dynamics to the lesbian community and encouraged women to experiment with gender expression rather than defaulting to androgyny. Waters proudly identified as butch, noting that is masculinity is still rooted in butch ideals.

During his senior year of college, Waters went on a trip to Montreal and bought Lesbians Talk Transgender from a queer bookstore with the last of his money. After reading the book, he knew “something significant had just shifted.”

Waters describes the still complex but comparatively straightforward process of undergoing medical transitioning. This process began with seeing a gender therapist, receiving a recommendation for hormones, beginning hormones, and then getting surgery. He also details the “Real Life Test,” which was required under the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. When Waters began his medical transition in 1997, most progressive gender therapists were not requiring the “Real Life Test,” and Waters himself was never subjected to it. He adds that at the age of 21, he was extremely young to begin his medical transition. This is in stark contrast to contemporary trans culture where people under the age of 18 are commonly beginning to transition.

In March of 1998, Waters began hormone therapy. There was only one doctor in New York City who prescribed hormones to trans men, and the doctor, recognizing his exclusivity, took financial advantage of his patients. Waters found a nurse practitioner at the student health center at Columbia University who was willing to research trans care and provide him with prescriptions and injections. Waters notes that the nurse practitioner would temporarily withhold his hormones until he agreed to routine procedures such as pap smears

During his junior year at Rutgers University, Waters got involved in Lesbians and Bisexuals in Action (LABIA) and was introduced to leftist grassroots activism. While the term “intersectionality” was not widely used at the time, many of the demonstrations he attended addressed overlapping systems of oppression and involved different minority groups working together toward a common goal. On campus he was involved in anti-war activism, and in New York City, he was occasionally involved with the Lesbian Avengers, ACT UP, and Queer Nation.

Waters attended Columbia University in New York City for graduate school, which he states was good for activism but bad for academics. He attempted to get involved with Transexual Menace, but the organization was mostly operational from Washington, D.C. Instead he aligned himself with American Boyz NYC, an organization for transmasculine people, and ran the chapter from 1997 to 1999.

While running the NYC chapter of American Boyz in the late 1990s, Waters attended the True Spirit Conference in Baltimore. He compared this conference, created specifically for transgender men, to the Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference. While the Philadelphia Trans-Health Fair annually attracts thousands of participants, the True Spirit Conference hosted less than 400 people, which at the time was a large crowd.

In 1997, before the True Spirit Conferences, Waters attended a conference for transgender men in Boston, which he believes to be the first national convention of trans men in the United States. Desperately seeking a large community, transgender men came from across the United States. At this conference, Waters first saw men who had scars from gender-affirming surgeries and was able to hear their experiences.

Waters was interviewed by Michelangelo Signorile for an article published in the August 1998 issue of OUT Magazine, titled Snakes and Snails and Puppy-dogs’ Tails. The article was framed as a discussion between trans men and butch lesbians wherein they examined the differences and similarities between the two identities, and they debated where trans men belong in relationship to the lesbian community.

Due to increased availability of information as the internet emerged in the 1990s, a large number of butch lesbians in 1990s were beginning to transition and live as men. Some lesbians separatists were put on edge, fearing that the community would lose its strength after all the butch lesbians abandoned womanhood. Lesbians needed to figure out what transgender men meant for the future of their community.

Waters believes this discussion was started by Stone Butch Blues, which, as mentioned before, was an extremely influential book in the lesbian community. This conversation continues today in the form of the transmasculine spectrum, which allows people who were assigned female at birth to express masculinity in a multitude of ways and is not limited to the binary categories of woman and transman. As Waters notes, identities within the queer community are now a lot broader than lesbian and gay.

Waters felt he was pushed out of the queer community shortly after he began transitioning, which left him feeling alienated from the people he called his family. Instead of feeling explicitly pressured to leave, he simply felt there was no place for him. Lesbian spaces he left in New York City did not welcome men, regardless of their history, and the LGB community he found in Rochester was clueless when it came to transgender people. Waters found the Rochester Trans Group and attended a few meetings, but he felt that the group primarily catered to the needs of middle-aged, closeted trans women. As a young trans man, he was unable to find community there. With nothing available locally and internet communities still slowly developing, Waters simply ended his involvement in the queer world.

Recently, Waters has returned to the queer community. He found that over the past decade, Rochester’s LGBT community has transformed into more of an inclusive community. Now, rather than attempting to restrict the community to four distinct categories, more people are recognizing and embracing a community of diverse identities. Waters is excited to become involved again.

In 1990, O’Toole was desperate to know she was not the only person in the world who experienced gender dysphoria. She turned to the newly available internet and, fearing that her wife might catch her, she cautiously searched Yahoo for other people. She found Susans.org, an early internet site and forum for crossdressers and transgender women. O’Toole was astonished by how many people were members of Susans.org, and it quickly became her lifeline when no other resources were available to her. Even while her life became busier with work and children, she reserved time to visit Susans.org and connect with the only community she could.

O’Toole briefly describes the terminology used online at the time. “Transgender” was used as a synonym for crossdresser. “Transsexual” referred to people who wanted to change their sex, while “transexual” was a word used primarily by the porn industry.

Throughout this retelling, O’Toole uses the metaphor of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde to describe the interactions between her conflicting masculine persona and her feminine identity. The neighborhood Halloween party was coming up, and O’Toole made a resolution to dress as a passable woman at the party.

To prepare, she ordered a skirt, sweater, and heels, which were sent to her secret P.O. Box, and she made an appointment with Sue at Sue’s Finishing Touch Salon to get her hair, nails and makeup done. When she first saw herself dressed and made up as a woman for the first time, O’Toole felt panicked and overcome with internalized transphobia. But she quickly was able to accept her identity and her appearance.

At the party, O’Toole was immediately embraced as a woman, which felt terrifying but liberating. The next day, on November 1st, O’Toole began her transition journal, which would eventually become her book You Can’t Shave in a Minimart Bathroom.

At the recommendation of several people on Susans.org, O’Toole went to her primary care physician in late 2005 to begin her medical transition. O’Toole brought a copy of the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care to the appointment, and her doctor, who had never cared for a transgender patient before, agreed to provide hormone replacement therapy and blood tests to aid in her transition.

O’Toole began seeing Claire Brobrycki, a therapist working Auburn, NY, and during her treatment engaged in difficult conversations that were both painful and liberating. One of her first assignments with Brobrycki involved writing a list of things that contributed to womanhood. O’Toole noticed that as she was writing, she went from using third person perspective to talk about women to using first person plural perspective. Through the assignment, she began to identify herself as a woman like any other.

O’Toole, working as a science teacher at Sodus High School, came out in privacy to her administration and union in June of 2007. She was planning to begin her transition and return for the 2007-2008 academic year as Ms. O’Toole. However, members of Sodus faculty, stating that they were acting to protect the children, leaked the information to the local news, and on June 21st 2007, Channel 10 News ran several segments with the headline “Sodus Teacher to Change Sex.” Although the news did not include O’Toole’s name, everyone in Sodus and the surrounding area knew the segment was about her.

O’Toole’s children found out through social media before she had a chance to tell them herself. Her daughter was furious that O’Toole had seemingly come out to everyone in town before she had come out to her own family, and O’Toole’s relationship with her daughter has been damaged since. However, she maintains a very close bond with her son.

Although O’Toole’s transition severely damaged her relationship with her daughter, she has maintained an extremely close relationship with her son. In the summer of 2008, O’Toole dressed as a woman for the first time with her son, and her son, who was then twelve years old, embraced her identity and simply could not understand why everyone else was upset with her transition. Years later, O’Toole’s son reflected on her feminine parenting style, and he showed an understanding of her gender identity even before she had come out to him.

Sandra Pierce, born around 1951, was a transexual woman living in Rochester, NY. She organized Transexuals and Transvestites Unite! in September 1974. This group functioned as a support and social group for transexual women and crossdressers and was the first group of its kind in Rochester.

On February 16th 1975, the Gay Brotherhood of Rochester invited Pierce to speak in a forum discussing transvestism and transexualism.

In March 1975, Pierce published a letter in The Empty Closet. In the letter, Pierce poetically discussed her life-long struggle with gender dysphoria. She described a history of depression and suicidal thoughts, noting that she will not “give in as long as [she has] hope.” In the letter Pierce also alluded to feeling dehumanized by transphobic people, and she expressed her frustration with medical providers. She understood transphobia as ignorance and fear, but she refused to let transphobia hold her back from living as a woman. This is the last time Pierce is documented in the archives.

Peggy was a transexual lesbian living in Rochester NY. She was born around 1920 and married in 1942, raising four children with her wife. She transitioned later in her life and underwent reassignment surgery.

In June 1973, Peggy, age 52, was a featured speaker at a Gay Liberation Front meeting, hoping to bring light to the challenges faced by transexual people. At the meeting, she captivated members in attendance. Peggy described herself as a life-long practicing lesbian during her talk, dispelling gay men’s common misconception that transexual people were homosexuals that wanted to become heterosexual. One member in attendance expected to see a “freak show,” though he claimed he was not disappointed to be proved wrong by Peggy’s feminine and youthful appearance. After the meeting, Peggy continued discussion on Green Thursdays, a gay radio show in Rochester.

Wilder, born in 1941, was a transexual woman living in Rochester, NY. She was described as a pioneer who helped a half dozen other transexual people gain support and resources for their transition. Wilder worked at bars, sold drugs, and participated in sex work in order to fund her transition. As a result, she faced criminal drug and sex-related charges frequently.

In September of 1974, Wilder, wearing a mini skirt to her court hearing, plead guilty to charges of selling drugs. Robert Napier, Wilder’s lawyer, successfully argued that Wilder faced psychological trauma due to her gender dysphoria and recommended that the judge drop the charges against Wilder. Judge Celli agreed that Wilder’s gender dysphoria may have caused her involvement with drugs, and Judge Celli sentenced Wilder to five years of probation.

On December 13th 1974, Peter Secore, age 19, stabbed Wilder, age 33, to death in their home at 31 Comfort St in Rochester. Secore, convicted of first-degree manslaughter, claimed that he was repulsing Wilder’s sexual advances, though a witness claimed that Secore planned the murder.

Leah Wilder during her lifetime was also known as Leah Gordon, Gordon Boerman, and Lee Gordon.

Karen*, born around 1943, was a Swedish-American transexual woman living in Rochester, NY. In June 1975, Linda Hansen wrote and published an article about Karen in The Democrat and Chronicle.

Karen became aware of transexualism in 1959, when she was fifteen years old. Her family doctor recommended conversion therapy techniques, including prescribing her large doses of testosterone and extensive psychotherapy. Her religious beliefs conflicted with her identity. She initially felt guilty for wanting to change the body God gave her, but eventually she came to see transexualism as an illness requiring treatment like any other. She compared transsexualism to a birth defect.

Karen spent seven years trying to live as a gay man. During this time, she experimented with her gender expression by being “the female half in the homosexual pair,” and later she performed as a female impersonator. She describes her experiences as a female impersonator as “the turning point” when she began seriously considering sexual reassignment surgery.

As of 1975, Karen has undergone hormone replacement therapy, electrolysis, and psychological testing. At the time of the interview, she was planning on going to Casablanca for sexual reassignment surgery. She estimated that her hormones and electrolysis treatments cost her $50/week, and surgery would cost around $4,000. She considered female clothing an extra expense.

*Karen is a pseudonym used to maintain anonymity of the person.

Renee Joy Hughson was raised in rural western New York and, believing her transition would be a burden to her friends and family, moved to Rochester as a young adult. She came to the city with a mission to find a job, see a therapist, and begin her life as a woman. She was forced to work as a man to fund her hormone treatments and surgeries, noting this was a “necessary compromise.” In October 1976, she attended a support group for transexual people and transvestites organized by the Gay Brotherhood of Rochester and continued to participate in the group.

Hughson wrote a regular column in the Empty Closet between 1976 and 1977 which was originally titled Frankenstein in Drag and later renamed Over the Rainbow. The original title was inspired by a doctor’s visit regarding hormone treatments, when a doctor made her feel that she would always look like a drag queen or a monster. After months of complaints from readers who felt the title was offensive, Hughson renamed the column Over the Rainbow. She was inspired to continue her transition by the lyrics from the popular song Somewhere Over the Rainbow, particularly the line “Why, oh why, can’t I?”

Hughson began the column in The Empty Closet as a way to raise awareness about the issues facing transexual people, to dispel harmful misconceptions that were being perpetuated by straight and gay people, and to empower other transexual people to live authentically. She encouraged readers to reach out to her, either through direct communication or by attending the support group. She felt it was her personal obligation to educate people through writing.

Throughout the years that this column was published, Hughson discussed a range of topics. In one column, she described using humor as a coping mechanism for encountering transphobia. In the early months, she wrote frequently about her isolation from her friends and family, as well as her frustration with her inability to “pass” as a cisgender woman in public. In her later writings, Hughson is less concerned with assimilating to feminine stereotypes and instead expresses anger at the amount of gender policing she faces, encouraging transexual people to be critical of gender classifications. Throughout the publication of the column, Hughson preached universal love and acceptance, stating “everyone needs someone and we all need everyone.”