In memory of Tiasha

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. I have a memory that I'd like to share with you.

Nineteen years ago I met a beautiful woman who was funny, kind, and hard-working. I'll call her Tiasha. She worked for an organization at which I periodically volunteered. I also had a friend who worked for this organization. I'll call him Kevin.

Kevin identified as a straight white man. Tiasha identified as a straight black woman. I identified as an ex-gay white woman.

I didn't know Tiasha very well, but when I would call to talk to Kevin she was always quick to recognize me and to tease me lovingly saying that I had a sultry voice. I couldn't hear what she heard, but I loved that she was so easy-going and playful. Kevin seemed to enjoy working with her and spoke of her with some frequency. In our conversations I learned that she was periodically ill, more than seemed average.

I volunteered for this organization for about three years. It was in that third that Kevin called me in shock. Tiasha had died suddenly. Furthermore, he said, Tiasha wasn't Tiasha but actually was Norman. Kevin then said, "Norman died of AIDS."

I questioned why he was suddenly calling Tiasha he and Norman. Kevin said that Tiasha was a lie and that Norman was the truth. He wouldn't call Norman she or Tiasha. My heart sunk. I had no words to help me express what I was thinking, feeling, or reacting to. I had noone to help me think through this complicated scenario. Kevin seemed to think it was very simple. I knew that it wasn't.

Tiasha was Tiasha. I honestly believed, and still believe, that in most ways, I didn't know Norman. I had never met him. I had met and worked alongside Tiasha. She was great. I didn't feel betrayed, although I did feel sad.

First, I felt sad because this vibrant wonderful woman was suddenly dead.

Second, her family took her body and had a private funeral for "him." I asked about a memorial service for her and was told there wouldn't be one.

Third, she had AIDS. All those times she was sick and we didn't know why. For the more ignorant and paranoid, they thought she might have given them AIDS just by her presence with them. They were angry that she hadn't told them because they thought they had the right to protect themselves. Even then I knew that was ridiculous.

Fourth, she was being referred to now as he. How could they do that? Tiasha was clearly a woman. Even though the shape of her body was a surprise to us, what did it matter? It didn't change who she had been to us. The words that I heard them say about her prompted me to not volunteer there anymore.

At the time I was aware that some people had sex changes. As a young adult I had some interest in having a sex change, but for many reasons I didn't follow through. When I met Tiasha I was in the throws of full denial of my true self. I spent most of my energy trying to be a heterosexual woman, when in fact the best I could do was identify as ex-gay. I loved the joy and freedom that I found in Tiasha. I didn't know what to make of her having a male body, and I didn't have any names like transgender, mtf, or gender variant but I knew she was a woman to me no matter what anyone else said.

I wish I could say that I began my own exploration of my gender identity as a result of this, but that was yet to be a long time coming. When I did begin to chip away at my own self denial and wrestle with my own complicated gender identity, remembering Tiasha's story served both as a comfort and as a caution to me. The comfort was that I could know joy and freedom in who I am no matter who I am. The caution was that there are many many people who wouldn't understand and who wouldn't even try to understand.

For me, Tiasha is a stellar loving example of living life to the fullest and being as authentic as possible. Those who called her a life a lie break my heart.

Today I honor Tiasha for being who she was in every way. She is now one of the beautiful ancestors.