Coming Out Professionally

It’s been a bit of an intense week both personally and of course on the world’s stage. Amongst this, I came out as trans on my professional Twitter account. And I was really astounded by just how many people reached out to me to show their support. My post kind of blew up on science twitter, which was completely unexpected. It’s also been really great to connect with other trans* folks in STEM.

Otherwise, my life is feeling very transitory at the moment, which I guess, it’s called “transitioning” for a reason… I don’t have major issues with my past self, but I’ve come to realize that my deadname is everywhere. And so, while I’ll be unable to escape that, I am very ready to move forward as Tristan. Unfortunately, the physical and social changes don’t happen overnight. I think I’m increasingly skirting away from androgyny into more masculine territory, but I find myself unsure of, for instance, which bathroom to use in public, or which locker room to use at the gym. Just yesterday, I was heading for the locker room at the gym, and a guy ahead of me was holding the door behind him for me – and then I just walked past to go into the women’s locker room and I found myself in retrospect asking, “Why didn’t I just go in? What was I afraid of?”

I think it’s in part because the feminine aspects of my appearance still really stand out to me– in a way that I find myself feeling like I’d get accosted in male spaces. My legal identity is also still female, and I’m trying to avoid any confrontation about my gender. Honestly, I’m trying to avoid locker rooms and other gendered spaces as much as possible, but it’s still freezing outside here, so I need a place to at least put my jacket.

But clearly others are increasingly seeing me as male. In my Swedish class last week, we were doing an exercise with a partner where we would ask questions about the other person and then we had to report to the class what our partner told us. My partner referred to me using “han”, which is the Swedish equivalent of “he”, and I was like, so either you’ve gendered me correctly (if so, yay!) or one of us (could be me) isn’t remembering the correct vocabulary for pronouns. Generally though, I’d say most people in my life are using the correct name and have rapidly adjusted to using he/him pronouns for me (or at least they correct themselves immediately when they screw up).

I’ve also initiated the process of linking my research identity between Tristan and my previous name. I started by updating my name on my professional website, CV, Google Scholar, ResearchGate, and ORCiD, but I’ve learned my name everywhere. I’ve also reached out to journals about changing my name in my previous publications. I will be putting together a guide about the process – hopefully this will be up soon on this page.

Professionally, I’m feeling somewhat conflicted. For starters, I’m really coming to terms with the fact that restrictions around accessing trans healthcare and general societal trans-acceptance are new burdens I must carry in my life – there are places I won’t live anymore because it wouldn’t be safe. Given the scarcity of tenure track positions, I imagine this could hurt me career wise. But I’m also recognizing that my personal needs around accessing trans healthcare must be a priority. When I started hormone replacement therapy, it was as if a puzzle piece that had been missing from my body was finally in place– almost immediately my brain clicked in a way that said, “Yes, this is the right decision. How have I gone without this my whole life?” and this was even before any physical changes happened. Clearly, this is a priority for me going forward.

That said, I’ve been feeling unsure about my name professionally. First, I have to keep my previous name legally for a little longer. Name changes are very easy in Sweden, but because I need to manage it between two countries, there are additional logistics to work out. Unfortunately, Sweden is quite bureaucratic around names. For instance, I am unable to change my name on my university email address – it must match my legal name. The university did throw me a nice gesture by updating my email address itself, but I’m otherwise stuck with emails being sent from my deadname and oddly having my email signature say “Tristan” – not very professional in my opinion. This is frustratingly just the way it will have to be for a bit.

I’m also wrestling with what name to put on job and grant applications. Should I use my legal name? The name I want to be called? The name that has a semblance of recognition and can be googled? Or does it change by country? I am concerned that it will be harder to find me online during this critical period where I am trying to build up my name and apply for permanent positions – a name is so critical in academia. 

I am thankful for having such supportive people around me. While there is a lot of uncertainty in my life right now and I’m feeling impatient that my outward appearance doesn’t yet line up with how I feel internally, there are also so many positives in my life that are really making this interstitial period easier.

Hi!

I am admittedly cautious about starting this blog and documenting about my experiences transitioning as an early career researcher in STEM. However, I have been struck by the sparsity of narratives from those in my position. Maybe there are not many of us… it seems most people either transition before publishing or after they have tenure. But one cannot always make the timeline of their personal and professional lives line up.

As scientists, we are taught that our personal lives have no bearing or “do not belong” in our professional lives. I (too optimistically, perhaps) believe this attitude is changing. Regardless, I don’t have the luxury of invisibility (or “erasing” my past self – and honestly, I don’t want to!) during this process. I would argue that accepting oneself as trans is the ultimate level of self-love and acceptance – there are no societal rewards for transitioning. In many ways, transitioning is a very public display of one’s most intimate and vulnerable self. My reasons for documenting this are in part personal, but along the way I hope this can be helpful for others.

For years I sought quantitative evidence that these feelings about my gender meant I “had to” transition. As a scientist, I took a very methodological approach by weighing pros and cons. In truth, my cons list was full of logistic burdens and external social factors and my pros were reflective of my inner experiences. Obviously, this was an impossible comparison, and the approach was inherently flawed. But eventually I came the realization that these feelings weren’t going away and that no pro/con list was going to solve my problems. I realized that there was a solution for relieving the amount of real estate these feelings about my gender and the aftermath of transitioning were taking up in my brain – I needed to transition.

A lot of my hesitancy around accepting myself and transitioning was external – trans people are currently a punching bag in the media and politics. I struggled to find examples of people initiating this process during my stage of life. I thought to myself, “well things are otherwise going great, so can’t I just keep going as it is? Why mess this up?” And things were going great for me – professionally, socially, and arguably personally. I would say I was overall a happy person, except for the nagging voice that would pester me from time to time saying, “Hey, this isn’t right”. This voice amplified with time to the point I could no longer ignore it (thanks, Covid-19 pandemic)!

And I was ecstatic once I reached this point of acceptance within myself – it felt like all those years of searching for answers finally had a solution!

Unfortunately, this initial joy was momentary, because it dawned on me that I wasn’t going to be able to hide this from others. I would have to tell EVERYONE… and how does one even do that?! Beyond my family and immediate circle of friends, there are multiple layers of acquaintances, professional contacts, and random people I had coffee with 6 months ago. It felt daunting. I’m still working on this process. Thankfully, a lot of my initial fears about not being accepted were unfounded and I’ve only received positivity and support. I’m very lucky in this regard.

Will transitioning negatively impact me professionally? Is this blog a good idea? I am unsure and I suppose time will tell. I am taking a risk here, but there are no rewards without risk. This blog is also a way to link my previous identity to my new one and hopefully this is helpful to someone out there. Going forward, I intend this blog will be in part logistics (i.e., my experiences with changing my name/gender in academia). I have also started a “Resources” page that I will update periodically and welcome any feedback, comments, or contributions. Let’s build something useful!

One of my goals here is to flip the script a bit about trans narratives – you can be both happy and successful and live a good life – before, during, and after transition. This blog is, of course, reflective of my personal experiences as there is no single trans narrative. I also must acknowledge my privilege in this situation: I am white, highly educated, and have an excellent support network, both personally and professionally.

My trans-ness does not change who I am as a person or a as a scientist or the quality of work I can produce. In fact, I’ve become more productive at work, and I feel more connected to myself in life. This period will certainly have its challenges, but I also hope to convey the inexplicable joy that transitioning has brought me personally.