Guess what arrived in the mail the other day? A shiny new name change certificate! (Or, Certificate of Change of Name, because of course we can't do it the easy way, can we?)
This happened both faster and slightly cheaper than I expected. Remember that $200+ fee I was quoted at the beginning? It was more like $175.00(plus the $25.00 fingerprint processing fee, but we'd already figured that one in.) I was also told, I believe, 4-6 weeks before I could expect it to arrive. Less than two weeks later, there it is!
The registry agent told me it would be all pink and purple, and "pretty enough to frame." And you know what? It really is. It's not something that most people have hanging on their walls, at least. So now I have a certificate, with just slightly less security features than your typical $5 bill, proclaiming me to be me, rather than that other person who was running around with my life.
Of course,(and isn't that always the way?) this was actually the easy part. I still need to go through all the steps to get my name changed on my photo ID, with my phone, with my bank, on my passport... What fun, yes? Oh, and with Alberta Heathcare, at my doctor's, on my prescriptions...
Showing posts with label Trans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trans. Show all posts
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Saturday, 8 January 2011
What's In A Name? Part II
This part, for some reason, seemed to me like it was going to be something strange and frightening: getting fingerprinted. I'm not sure why I thought this, but I kept picturing Big Intimidating Cops that would glare suspiciously at me, trying to determine what heinous crime I must have committed. What can I say? I'm a writer. I have an over-active imagination.
The reality was actually very different. It was in a small office in a public building downtown with two bored looking officials, a woman and an older man. The man was processing someone else, so it was the woman who helped me. It was pretty much the basic show ID, give address, (current) legal name, yadda yadda, then have picture taken. When she was entering it all into the computer, she actually debated whether she could mark me as M under gender rather than F, but was afraid that would screw up the paper work and cause the whole thing to be rejected. As much as I would have liked it if she could, I had to agree. Just the fact that she considered it meant a fair bit to me. Then I made sure it was all today's version of correct, and signed. At some point in here I did pay my $30.00 fee, confusing her with the relative orientation of my debit card (I love my bank, vertical card design and all.)
Next came the part that I was actually pretty excited about: the fingerprinting itself. By this time the other guy who was there for fingerprinting had left. The man who had been helping him had already set up the ink pad and such the way he liked it, so he did the actual printing. It went pretty quickly and easily. Ink and roll each finger, all fingers together, thumbs, done. I'm honestly not sure whether I'm relived or disappointed that the ink came off my fingers so easily, but it did and there it is. He folded up the sheet and handed it to me in an envelope. And that was it, I was done.
So now I have a very official sheet with my fingerprints on it, waiting to be brought back to the registration agency with the rest of my paperwork. It's actually pretty neat to look at - comparing the swirls on the fingers of my left hand with those on my right - I'm actually thinking of scanning a copy just for myself. The artist in me can't resist, really.
Friday, 7 January 2011
What's In A Name? Part I
So I am finally going through the process of legally changing my name and I thought, what the hell. Let's blog about it. Because even with all of its bureaucracy, or perhaps because of it, it can be a pretty interesting process. This is of course how it happens in Alberta. I don't know how much is different elsewhere.
It all starts with the Application for Name Change forms that I picked up at a local Registration agency. They come bound in this book which is pretty neat, but also a little weird. Not only do I now have the forms to change my own name, but also the forms to change my children's or my spouse's names, if I had any and thought this was something I wanted to do. Now, I understand situations where one would want to change a child's name, adoption and what-not, but a spouse? I don't know about you, but even if my hypothetical spouse and I decided together that we would change eir name, I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if e did it emself. But I digress.
In case I didn't already know this, the front of the application tells me this isn't going to be free. It's not even going to be cheap, really, which is part of why I've had to wait so long.
Fees for Name Changes:
Registry Agents will collect:
And that's step one: getting the application. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the fingerprinting.
Also, just a quick FYI. No, I will not tell you my original/old/"real" name. I'm pretty open about the process of transitioning, more so than most people in my situation, but this is one of the few questions I won't answer. The last thing I want to do is give more people the opportunity to call me by the wrong name. Thank you.
It all starts with the Application for Name Change forms that I picked up at a local Registration agency. They come bound in this book which is pretty neat, but also a little weird. Not only do I now have the forms to change my own name, but also the forms to change my children's or my spouse's names, if I had any and thought this was something I wanted to do. Now, I understand situations where one would want to change a child's name, adoption and what-not, but a spouse? I don't know about you, but even if my hypothetical spouse and I decided together that we would change eir name, I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if e did it emself. But I digress.
In case I didn't already know this, the front of the application tells me this isn't going to be free. It's not even going to be cheap, really, which is part of why I've had to wait so long.
Fees for Name Changes:
Registry Agents will collect:
- a government fee of $120.00.
- a service fee, which may vary (I was quoted anywhere from $190.00 to something upwards of $200.)
- a fingerprint processing fee of $25.00, on behalf of the RCMP in Ottawa as payment for the criminal record check.
- may charge a fee for fingerprinting ($30.00 in this case.) Payment is made directly to the local law enforcement agency.
And that's step one: getting the application. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the fingerprinting.
Also, just a quick FYI. No, I will not tell you my original/old/"real" name. I'm pretty open about the process of transitioning, more so than most people in my situation, but this is one of the few questions I won't answer. The last thing I want to do is give more people the opportunity to call me by the wrong name. Thank you.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Getting Comfortable With Being In Transition
And I don't just mean the big obvious one, though that's something I've had to get comfortable with too. I mean the whole big transition that is life, that thing we all do every day or else we become some stagnant, stale shell of a human being.
When I was a kid, I thought that all I had to do was figure out who I was, and that's who I'd be. Forever. Nothing else, and nothing less. I'd grow up, find a few words to describe myself, and that would be that. One thing I've had to come to terms with is the fact that that is never going to happen. Who I am today? Really not who I was yesterday. Tomorrow? Well, I'll be someone else again, won't I?
I don't mean every transition I go through is as big and life-changing as the one from trying to be female to finally being male. Sometimes it's as simple as reading an insightful blog post, or engaging with new people on Twitter. Or in real life even. That happens too, on occasion. If who I am is the sum of my experiences, then with every moment I'm in transition from being someone who hasn't experienced something to someone who has.
This also means that I have to update who I think I am at almost every turn. I thought I was someone who was only romantically interested in people of a specific gender or type until I realized it wasn't that simple, not for me anyway. I thought of myself as someone who hated kids and would never have any or want to until I met my niece. And the big one? Perhaps bigger than all the rest, even THE big one?
I thought I was always and forever an Artist before anything else. That was the pinnacle of my identity, the one thing that I had always been and would always be no matter what else changed, I was an Artist and I would paint/draw/make jewellery until the day I died of some bizarre cancer or heavy metal poisoning from my work. I believed this until I looked up one day and realized I was becoming a Writer.
I looked at what I had drawn or made in the past week, the past month. Nothing. I mean literally. I hadn't made a damn thing the whole time, not so much as a doodle. I looked at what I had been doing instead. When I wasn't writing, I was reading about writing. I was talking about writing, and I was on my way to someplace where I would be writing. (Or I was at my day job, but even there I was thinking about writing.) That's when I realized that I was watching my own transition from Artist with a little writing on the side, to Writer with a little art on the side.
I can't say that I was entirely happy about this. I mean, I'd put how many years into that identity? I now owe how much in student loans because of it? And what will my Grandma think? I was always the Artist in the family, one of her kind. I felt like I was betraying a core part of me. But that didn't stop the transition. Because even though I was mourning the Artist, I was celebrating the Writer. You see, the big difference between the two has been commitment. I have actually been able to commit to one writing project, my novel, far longer and more consistently than any body of art I've undertaken. And I've realized, that I'd much rather be productive and prolific at something that I love than be sporadic and occasionally brilliant at something that I love.
When I was a kid, I thought that all I had to do was figure out who I was, and that's who I'd be. Forever. Nothing else, and nothing less. I'd grow up, find a few words to describe myself, and that would be that. One thing I've had to come to terms with is the fact that that is never going to happen. Who I am today? Really not who I was yesterday. Tomorrow? Well, I'll be someone else again, won't I?
I don't mean every transition I go through is as big and life-changing as the one from trying to be female to finally being male. Sometimes it's as simple as reading an insightful blog post, or engaging with new people on Twitter. Or in real life even. That happens too, on occasion. If who I am is the sum of my experiences, then with every moment I'm in transition from being someone who hasn't experienced something to someone who has.
This also means that I have to update who I think I am at almost every turn. I thought I was someone who was only romantically interested in people of a specific gender or type until I realized it wasn't that simple, not for me anyway. I thought of myself as someone who hated kids and would never have any or want to until I met my niece. And the big one? Perhaps bigger than all the rest, even THE big one?
I thought I was always and forever an Artist before anything else. That was the pinnacle of my identity, the one thing that I had always been and would always be no matter what else changed, I was an Artist and I would paint/draw/make jewellery until the day I died of some bizarre cancer or heavy metal poisoning from my work. I believed this until I looked up one day and realized I was becoming a Writer.
I looked at what I had drawn or made in the past week, the past month. Nothing. I mean literally. I hadn't made a damn thing the whole time, not so much as a doodle. I looked at what I had been doing instead. When I wasn't writing, I was reading about writing. I was talking about writing, and I was on my way to someplace where I would be writing. (Or I was at my day job, but even there I was thinking about writing.) That's when I realized that I was watching my own transition from Artist with a little writing on the side, to Writer with a little art on the side.
I can't say that I was entirely happy about this. I mean, I'd put how many years into that identity? I now owe how much in student loans because of it? And what will my Grandma think? I was always the Artist in the family, one of her kind. I felt like I was betraying a core part of me. But that didn't stop the transition. Because even though I was mourning the Artist, I was celebrating the Writer. You see, the big difference between the two has been commitment. I have actually been able to commit to one writing project, my novel, far longer and more consistently than any body of art I've undertaken. And I've realized, that I'd much rather be productive and prolific at something that I love than be sporadic and occasionally brilliant at something that I love.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Sample Sunday: A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
Obviously, some things have changed since I first wrote this. I'd be surprised if it hadn't, seeing as this comes from that same 2007/2008 era as Friday's flash piece, and in fact appears on the page just before it in the notebook. Does it mean that what I wrote then is now completely untrue? No, not really. It was true at the time, and I think I needed it to work through who I was and get to who I am. The fact that I chose to do this through a fictionalized encounter with myself is also unsurprising, given my tendency in the past to use a fantasy world for both escapism and self-discovery.
Anyway, I've done more than enough babbling here about 'what it all means' and other self analysis. I'll let you get on with actually reading it now.
A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
Anyway, I've done more than enough babbling here about 'what it all means' and other self analysis. I'll let you get on with actually reading it now.
A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
"I'm not like other guys," he said. "Then again, most other guys aren't perfectly happy living in a woman's body."
He laughed then. "Hell, why shouldn't I be? I mean, I get to live the 'lesbian fantasy' to its most satisfying fullness. But seriously. A man in a woman's body who's not about to do anything about it at all. Am I being a coward? Not taking the risk, not making the commitment to become 'who I am?'" He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm really only a part of who I am, aren't I?"
He smiled at me and finished his coffee. As he left, I smiled and nodded to myself. What he'd said was true.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Too Tired to Party, But Not Apparently Too Tired to Blog
So it's St. Pat's and instead of drinking the night away, I'm sitting in bed with my computer on my lap.
Part of the reason I started this blog was to address the hypersensitivity I've seen on so many other trans blogs and discussion groups. I couldn't really understand why they were so ready to jump down people's throats any time someone uttered anything that could be even remotely construed as being offensive. I could guess at the roots of this anger, but mostly I felt sorry for them that they'd gone through something bad enough to make them so bitter. That wasn't going to happen to me, right? After all, I'm stronger than that, and transitionning under better circumstances, right? Well, as I get further along in my own transition, I'm beginning to realize that while they may still be somewhat hypersensitive, it's not without cause.
My first inkling that perhaps not all was right with my world was reading my letter of recommendation to
start hormone therapy. While I could understand that much of it was lifted from the Standards of Care which is currently about 9 years out of date, I was still surprised and not a little irritated to find it riddled with 'she's and 'her's in reference to me. I have a certain amount of patience for friends and family who might not understand, after all it takes time to educate. But to have someone who works with trans people on a regular basis commit such blatant disrespect? That I could not fathom. If it got me what I needed, however, I could grin and bear it. Irritated but undeterred, I shrugged it off.
What really drove it home for me though, was listenning to this same psychologist explain to my mom how trans man and women aren't real man and women; they're trans. They are and will always be in between. I sat there listenning to him talk about how he'd felt 'uncomfortable' at a house party full of trans men and how you could always tell that there was something 'off' about a trans person... It dawned on me then that he didn't take this, or me, seriously. Worse, he was being transphobic. Here was someone who was supposed to be on my side, and all the while it seems that he's just playing along and humouring this poor, gender-confused little girl. Because over the course of the session, he as good as said 'I don't see you as male.'
Between this and other social opposition I've encountered, it's becoming more and more clear to me that in the eyes of most of the rest of the world, I'm either a fraud, or else not a person. And coming from the privilaged possition of being white and middle-class, I'll admit it's more of a shock than I expected.
Part of the reason I started this blog was to address the hypersensitivity I've seen on so many other trans blogs and discussion groups. I couldn't really understand why they were so ready to jump down people's throats any time someone uttered anything that could be even remotely construed as being offensive. I could guess at the roots of this anger, but mostly I felt sorry for them that they'd gone through something bad enough to make them so bitter. That wasn't going to happen to me, right? After all, I'm stronger than that, and transitionning under better circumstances, right? Well, as I get further along in my own transition, I'm beginning to realize that while they may still be somewhat hypersensitive, it's not without cause.
My first inkling that perhaps not all was right with my world was reading my letter of recommendation to
start hormone therapy. While I could understand that much of it was lifted from the Standards of Care which is currently about 9 years out of date, I was still surprised and not a little irritated to find it riddled with 'she's and 'her's in reference to me. I have a certain amount of patience for friends and family who might not understand, after all it takes time to educate. But to have someone who works with trans people on a regular basis commit such blatant disrespect? That I could not fathom. If it got me what I needed, however, I could grin and bear it. Irritated but undeterred, I shrugged it off.
What really drove it home for me though, was listenning to this same psychologist explain to my mom how trans man and women aren't real man and women; they're trans. They are and will always be in between. I sat there listenning to him talk about how he'd felt 'uncomfortable' at a house party full of trans men and how you could always tell that there was something 'off' about a trans person... It dawned on me then that he didn't take this, or me, seriously. Worse, he was being transphobic. Here was someone who was supposed to be on my side, and all the while it seems that he's just playing along and humouring this poor, gender-confused little girl. Because over the course of the session, he as good as said 'I don't see you as male.'
Between this and other social opposition I've encountered, it's becoming more and more clear to me that in the eyes of most of the rest of the world, I'm either a fraud, or else not a person. And coming from the privilaged possition of being white and middle-class, I'll admit it's more of a shock than I expected.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
The Star Trek Analogy
Ask pretty much anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am a geek. I'm all about Sci-Fi/Fantasy novels, comics, Dungeons & Dragons and of course, Star Trek.
Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved Star Trek, Next Generation especially, though I was only ever managed to watch it once in a while when I could catch it on TV, and never in any particular order. What I can remember of my childhood impression of the show is this: Data was my hero, Jordie and Warf were also pretty cool, and I really did not like that doctor-who-wasn't-Beverly-Crusher. Until I began to watch all the episodes in order, I couldn't say why, only that there was something about her that rubbed me the wrong way.
As I reached Season 2 of my viewing campaign, I came to realize that my dislike of Dr. Pulaski had less to do with her not being Dr. Crusher, and more to do with her attitude towards Data. While the rest of the crew at least made a consistant effort to treat Data like a person, she just couldn't seem to get past the fact that he was an android, and continued to see him as a machine, no more worthy of regard than any piece of equipment. That diregard rankled, not only because Data was my favourite, but because the attitude of people like her can be a real threat to people like me. I might not have been conscious of this as a kid, but part of me understood. Part of me was afraid, and so I hated her.
What it comes down to is this: Data, the android who would be human, is analogous to any minority group who has had to fight to be seen as even human. In my case, Data's experience parallels my own as a trans man. I see my own struggle for personhood in his character. In Dr. Pulaski, I saw all those who would disregard my experience as real, all those who would continue to judge from a position of priviledge.
Still... watching now, I can't completely condemn her character. She has made sacrifices worthy of respect, and though stubborn she seems willing to at least try to learn. Whatever the case, I'll keep an eye on her as I watch, secure in the knowledge that for better or worse, we do get Beverly back eventually.
Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved Star Trek, Next Generation especially, though I was only ever managed to watch it once in a while when I could catch it on TV, and never in any particular order. What I can remember of my childhood impression of the show is this: Data was my hero, Jordie and Warf were also pretty cool, and I really did not like that doctor-who-wasn't-Beverly-Crusher. Until I began to watch all the episodes in order, I couldn't say why, only that there was something about her that rubbed me the wrong way.
As I reached Season 2 of my viewing campaign, I came to realize that my dislike of Dr. Pulaski had less to do with her not being Dr. Crusher, and more to do with her attitude towards Data. While the rest of the crew at least made a consistant effort to treat Data like a person, she just couldn't seem to get past the fact that he was an android, and continued to see him as a machine, no more worthy of regard than any piece of equipment. That diregard rankled, not only because Data was my favourite, but because the attitude of people like her can be a real threat to people like me. I might not have been conscious of this as a kid, but part of me understood. Part of me was afraid, and so I hated her.
What it comes down to is this: Data, the android who would be human, is analogous to any minority group who has had to fight to be seen as even human. In my case, Data's experience parallels my own as a trans man. I see my own struggle for personhood in his character. In Dr. Pulaski, I saw all those who would disregard my experience as real, all those who would continue to judge from a position of priviledge.
Still... watching now, I can't completely condemn her character. She has made sacrifices worthy of respect, and though stubborn she seems willing to at least try to learn. Whatever the case, I'll keep an eye on her as I watch, secure in the knowledge that for better or worse, we do get Beverly back eventually.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
In The Beginning...
Man, when I was young I shoved my ignorance in people's faces. They beat me with sticks. By the time I was forty my blunt instrument had been honed to a fine cutting point for me. If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn.
~Faber, Fahrenheit 451, Ray BradburyWhen I decided that I wanted to write a blog, I knew that I wanted it to be a place where I could examine
my views and ideas, a place where I could define and refine them. I spent a while mulling this over, and the above quote kept coming back to me. It absolutely describes what it is I intend to do here. Right now, I am a young man. I have thus far been doing myself a disservice by keeping myself on the sidelines of discussion, and never showing my ignorance. How am I to learn if I don't know what it is that I don't know? Also, by the magic of the internet, I can promote discussions to expand the minds of others in the same way.
In particular, I want to take an uncommon stand on today's issues, particularly those which impact myself and my community. I want to examine the concept of privilege, rights and community activism. I want to understand what people are doing in these areas, why they are doing it, and if in the end it's doing any good. I also want to understand and solidify my own views on these issues, how it effects both myself and my interactions, as well as what I need to work on in order to become a better person, and what will lead to actual positive effects. I want to see where sensitivity to a cause becomes over-sensitivity and reactionary behaviour.
I want to try to take an outside perspective on a community that I am a part of. This means equally the queer community, the trans community, and to a certain extent the art community, because art is one of the many ways we influence opinion. I also want to look at community efforts on a larger scale and look at the fine line between a need for better protection and the sense of entitlement rampant in contemporary society.
This is an open invitation to participate! Learn, discuss, tell me where I'm wrong and why. Hopefully, we will both learn from this experience.
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