My top surgery is tomorrow!!! I’ve been researching and planning for it for so long that it almost didn’t feel real. Now that we’re here, it feels surreal!

The rockstar surgeon I found practices out of Miami, Florida. My wife and I arrived here a few days ago. It was my first time flying since before the pandemic, and since understanding myself as transmasculine. I wasn’t sure what to expect when dealing with the TSA and my identification. Before we got to the airport, I had decided that it would likely be easiest for me to get through security without any hassle by using my new passport as my ID. My reasoning for this stemmed from the fact that I’m still mostly being gendered as female when I’m out in public. Since the State Department wouldn’t comply with my request for a gender marker change on my passport and kept it as “F”, I figured that would be the ID that makes the most sense to use. I also have TSA Precheck, so my hope was to skate through security quickly. The only issue I foresaw was the potential for being held up by choosing to opt out of the biometric screening. (To learn more about how biometric screening impacts our privacy, please visit YK Hong’s website https://www.keepbeyond.com/optout/ )

To my surprise, when I got to the security checkpoint there was no line whatsoever. There were many booths open, but it was a young femme-presenting TSA agent who waved me over. As I approached the booth I immediately told them that I wanted to opt out of the biometrics. They said, “that’s fine,” and asked for my ID. I handed them my passport and waited for an unusually long time as they scrutinized my information. The next thing I knew, my passport was being handed back to me with a slip of paper inside it. The agent said, “you have to go back down to the United agents and have them fix your information because it doesn’t match your ticket.” Confused, I glanced down at my boarding pass that was pulled up on my phone. I had been so careful to enter my information with precision when purchasing the plane tickets. Sure enough, my name and date of birth were an exact match between my passport and boarding pass. I held both up to the agent to show them what I was seeing. Then they said, “Your ticket has to match your ID. Your ticket says ‘male’ and your passport says ‘female’. Unless they match, you can’t board the plane.” Ah. Okay. I had forgotten that I had been asked to specify a gender when I purchased the tickets. To my relief, the agent then asked if I had other ID with a male gender marker. I handed over my driver’s license and they processed it through the system without issue. To my great fortune, the agent was a person who clearly understood my situation and was intent on looking out for me. As they handed back my license, they explicitly told me not to try and use my passport for travel identification during this trip or else I would run into problems. I’m so thankful that we were flying out of Newark, NJ, and that I had this experience to learn from. It’s good to know before going back through TSA at the Miami airport. At the same time, my heart sunk. As the months go on, the likelihood of me passing as female will get slimmer and slimmer. This means that if I ever want to travel outside of the country, I won’t be able to unless I can get the State Department to change the gender marker on my passport to “male”. With the current state of affairs being what they are, feeling stuck inside the U.S. feels both depressing and worrisome.

The VRBO that we rented for the week is in the Little Havana section of Miami. Prior to arriving here, I was so excited for us to be able to explore the neighborhood and experience some cultural immersion. I didn’t realize how naive I was being. The cabbie who drove us here from the airport went on and on about how the Cubans here largely support Trump. He also told us to watch out for pickpockets and such if we went walking around Little Havana. Plus, it’s just Florida with all its anti-drag, anti-gay, anti-trans bullshit. The first day we were here we walked around the block to the small neighborhood grocery store. I immediately noticed how uncomfortable I felt. I knew we stuck out like a sore thumb for more than one reason. Our whiteness alone is blatant enough to cause discomfort. On top of that, we’re a queer couple. And on top of THAT, well, I look kind of half-man/half-woman at the moment. The entire time we were out I found myself wishing that I was already flat-chested because then I’d be less obviously trans. This experience certainly helped me to better understand and recognize the level of white-and-assumed-straight privilege I’ve been walking around with for most of my life. Even though I’ve identified as gay/queer since my early twenties, I think most people wouldn’t have guessed it at first glance. Unless I was holding my partner’s hand or displaying affection beyond friendliness, I mostly just flew under the radar and wasn’t targeted as someone for others to harass. But being here in Florida, in the center of a very machismo, MAGA-friendly, and non-white area of Miami, I definitely feel like a target. When I booked the VRBO, I was thrilled that the infamous Calle Ocho is only a short walk away, and looked forward to meandering down it. But now, it just feels too risky for us to intentionally go there as the queer gringos that we are. Even though we don’t feel safe exploring, we’re still out of the Northeast and here in the Sunshine State! We’re extremely grateful and content to be hanging out on the private patio behind the rental, soaking up the warmth of the sun and ocean breezes.

A few days from now, I’ll have been on TRT for 5 months. My wife and I were talking the other day, and she mentioned how the shape of my jaw and face is changing. I was slightly surprised to hear her say this. These are certainly differences that I’ve noticed when I look at myself in the mirror. But I’m always closely scrutinizing myself and scanning my features for any signs of metamorphosis. I wasn’t sure if the changes in my face were noticeable to anyone else, and especially to someone who sees me every day. I guess I’m physically transforming into the new me more quickly than I had anticipated. Lately, I’ve been having the experience of feeling like I don’t recognize myself – like I feel unfamiliar to myself. It’s a very peculiar perspective to sit with. In many ways I still look like me, but there are lots of other ways in which I don’t. I’m changing just rapidly enough that I can’t quite get used to my reflection in the mirror before it shifts again. Simultaneously, my internal landscape feels very much the same as always. It’s almost like I’m trying to figure out how integrate my inherent nature to my constantly evolving external perception of my appearance. With the extremely drastic physical modifications that will result from tomorrow’s surgery, I’m hoping that this integration will begin to start feeling more easeful as my dysphoria is relieved and my body and mind become more aligned. So long, tatas!