a woman

Laura Fraser

Marie Claire, June 2002

When my good friend Jenny opens the door of her house, I'm amazed. In her stretchy pink T-shirt, highlighted hair, and short denim skirt, Jenny looks much better than the last time we saw each other. But then, the last time I saw her, she had wire-rimmed John Lennon glasses, whiskers, and the beginnings of a beer belly. Jenny had been Jim.

I have come to visit her in rural Maine out of friendshipÑand, I guess, curiosity. Some time earlier, Jim had e-mailed me, telling me to sit down, because he had some difficult news. I didn't know what to expect: Terminal illness? Death of a mutual friend? I was relieved when it turned out he was undergoing a sex change. No one had died.

Or had he? I had no idea whether my friend Jim was gone forever, or if Jenny was basically the same person, only wearing lipstick. I live in San Francisco, where transsexuals are as common as burrito parlors, but I'd never known one as a friendÑespecially not someone I'd dated.

In his letter, Jim said he felt like he'd been in prison for 40 years for something he didn't do, living in the wrong body. So, for the past year, he had been taking hormones and living part of the time as a woman. Jim--I mean JennyÑsaid she knew Jim hadn't always been such a good friend to me. "I miss you," Jenny said. "In a way, I've missed you all my life."

Would we be closer now that Jim was female? At first, I wondered whether the difficulties Jim and I had had as friendsÑsome competition, envy, and sexual tension-- would dissolve as fellow gals. Finally, I reacted in what seemed the only way a true girlfriend could: I congratulated herÑand sent her a summer purse.

After we hug, the initial surprise wears off and my mind drifts from shock to self-doubt. I've always had the lurking feeling that Jim was better than me at almost everythingÑwriting, playing the piano, being funny, making friends. Now, I worry that Jenny will be better at being a woman than I am. In person, I can see that she's managed to pick up the little mannerismsÑlightly touching friends while talking, flicking her hair back, extending her pinkie slightly while holding a wine stemÑthat make a person register as female. Her makeup is expertly applied, and she has no beardÑthanks to countless painful sessions of electrolysis.

Jim had been a gangly Ichabod Crane, a big brain on a stick, but Jenny is graceful, willowy, pretty, and serene. She tells me sheÕs been taking hormone pills for about a yearÑbasically a double-dose of estrogen (Premarin) and a diuretic (spironolactone) that counteracts testosterone. Changing genders can require about six months to a year of counseling and at least a year of living full-time as the other gender before having surgery. When that year is up, Jenny will have Òsex reassignmentÓ surgery, creating a Òneo vaginaÓ that will be so real, she says, only her gynecologist will know for sure.

But, for now, Jenny is still Òpre-op.Ó She proudly shows me her pills.

ÒThis one,Ó she says, Òmakes you cry at movies and want to be in a relationship.Ó She pulls out another. ÒThis one makes you hate professional wrestling and the Three Stooges.Ó

The hormones have not only smoothed her skin and caused her body fat to migrate from her chin and belly to her breasts and hips, she says, theyÕve also changed her brain chemistry. She doesnÕt compartmentalize her emotions the way Jim did, turning off her feelings when itÕs time to go to work. And she listens more.

For the next few days, I follow Jenny around as she makes her usual rounds as a mom. SheÕs still living with her partner and children. This wasnÕt exactly what JimÕs wife signed up for when they walked down the aisle, but the two seem to have worked things out. On a day-to-day basis, they function just like any other family.

I thought I would be able to teach Jenny something about being femaleÑor at least give her some makeup or fashion tips from years spent figuring out my personal style. But sheÕs already secure about how she looks and dresses (even though I think she could ditch the upscale-country look for something a little sassier). Which means sheÕs either really good at being a woman, or sheÕs got a lot of leftover male confidence. Career-wise, Jenny has certainly benefited from her time as a man. ItÕs possible that sheÕd still have tenure and be the author of seven books if sheÕd always been a woman, but maybe not. ÒIf IÕd been female all along with the same talent, I would have doubted myself,Ó Jenny says.

But even as a former man, Jenny has to confront difficult feelings about body image that so many women face.

ÒAs a boy, I got to eat anything,Ó she says. ÒNow that IÕm a chick, I go to a restaurant and this little, messed-up voice whispers, ÔHave the salad!Õ I just think, Shut up. I want the baby-back ribs.Ó ItÕs taken Jenny some time to grow into her femininity, but sheÕs fast-forwarded her way through the process. In truth, she is still something like a teenager. Her nails are a little too pink, her tops a little tight, her makeup a little too bright. Sometimes, she acts a bit like a teenage girl, too, in that sheÕs na•ve about the effect she has on men. At a brewpub where we eat lunch, a biker guy pointedly checks her out (and not me). Jenny has an openness toward creepy men in bars that women like me have long ago learned to subtly turn off.

Among JimÕs old friends, some of the men are mystified. ÒHe was always such a guy,Ó one says. Another confesses that he was floored: ÒShe was the best man at my wedding!Ó He then responds in a typically masculine way, musing about whether or not heÕd sleep with her now.

These days, IÕve been wondering about those knotty questions about friendship and sexuality, too. In one intimate conversation, we talk about whether, since IÕd been attracted to Jim as a man, I would be attracted to Jenny as a woman. IÕve never been interested in sleeping with women, but the question was provocative. I mean, Jenny is still JimÑJim hasnÕt died and gone awayÑand yet sheÕs different; sheÕs a woman. So why had I been attracted to Jim when IÕm not to Jenny? Attraction canÕt simply be a matter of equipment.

At heart, what makes us male or female is elusive, but itÕs also the first thing we recognize about people. SheÕs not a man anymore, and for whatever mysterious reason, I like having sex with men. I love Jenny, but part of what I love about being friends with her, as with all my women friends, is that I donÕt have to worry about whether or not weÕre going to sleep together.

Clearly, Jenny and I will be much better friends than Jim and I were. She listens to me and tries to understand me in a way Jim never did. I donÕt know whether thatÕs because Jenny is now femaleÑor because she no longer feels like sheÕs hiding a secret. Still, I expect she can at least give me some firsthand insight into men, advising me about some guys IÕve dated. But when I ask, she shakes her head.

ÒYou know,Ó she says, ÒIÕve never understood men either.Ó +++

 

To read Jennifer Finney Boylan's new book, She's Not There :A Life in Two Genders, click here.