I had a vision of my future then. I would call myself by a different name, one I have yet to determine. I would use chemicals to alter my body and eventually have surgery. I would endure the judgment of society, the loss of friends and loved ones. I would lose the person I love most, so I could love myself better. I would do whatever it took, so that I could finally see the whole of that most beautiful face.

17.

This is how I came to love my vagina,” I recited, pretending to read from the page even though I’d already memorized most of the monologue, but didn’t want to seem overeager. My chair was too low, so my elbows felt unnatural against the gray laminate table, shiny compared to the dull, also-gray walls of that nondescript MIT seminar room, where I sat in front of half a dozen undergrad women in hoodies and nerd-joke shirts. Though nothing felt natural about auditioning for The Vagina Monologues without a vagina in October 2001, nine months after that ill-fated night with Richard that nonetheless led me here.

It was coincidence that they asked me to read the monologue I happened to have learned. “Because He Liked to Look at It” was about a woman who hated how her vagina looked until she found a guy who adored it. When I read the piece, I began to think of my own genitals not as a man’s body part but as an unusual vagina that only needed to be appreciated.

“Why do you want to be in the show?” one of the producers asked after I finished reading.

I expected something more like “Thank you, we’ll be in touch.” Taken aback, I contemplated an impersonal answer, something about the power of theatre or my belief in women’s rights.

“I’m transgendered,” I said instead. “I was raised as a boy, but I discovered that I’m actually a woman. Except I don’t know exactly what that means. I figure doing the play would help me find out.”

It was the first time I’d come out to a group of strangers. Walking across MIT’s concrete-dominated campus back to my office, I realized this was something I would have to do over and over. Just as being me had always meant informing people I wasn’t white, I would also need to tell them I didn’t grow up a girl.

From the discussions I was having with other trans women online, I became aware that my position wasn’t typical. In the most popular chat room for trans people, TGForum, passing was the ultimate goal, and as soon as passing was achieved, it was assumed that people wouldn’t tell anyone they’re trans. After all, if your goal was to be a woman, then it didn’t matter how you got there.