A superb, sensitive essay -- beautifully penned, it shows real empathy for Byron Noem. Initially (like so many people) I laughed at the absurdity of someone like the awful Ms. Noem (one of our worst foes) having a husband with so Big and Ironic a secret; but I regret that now, for he deserves real empathy and emotional support. Thank you for showing that to him.
Beautifully written. When I saw him I felt sad for him. I’m sure his relationship with his wife is awful. His neighbors and other folks around town said they liked him a lot. Collateral damage, indeed.
Ari-I read you consistently, and I appreciate the depth and honesty you bring to this conversation. I’ve walked a version of the path you’re describing, though mine unfolded differently. As a West Point graduate, physician, Jungian-trained therapist, and someone who came to transition later in life, what I’ve come to understand is that coherence doesn’t come simply from timing, it comes from being seen in a way that reflects something whole back to you, even when you can’t yet see it yourself.
That’s what feels most tragic in these late-life public exposures. Not just repression, but the absence of a "field" in which a person could have been recognized, early enough, and deeply enough, to allow their life to organize around something real, something coherent, something soulful. When that doesn’t happen, what emerges later looks fragmented, distorted, even caricatured, not because that’s who the person is, but because it’s what’s left after decades of disconnection from self.
As you know, gender is far more complex, and far more soulful, than our current frameworks allow. And when someone is truly seen, beyond performance, beyond transaction, beyond fear, their life can begin to take on a coherence that was always there, waiting.
Thank you for continuing to name this with such clarity-Sheila Grace
Sheila, I could have cried reading your second graf, because it's so insightful. I'm 73, someone who didn't start transitioning (at Kaiser in SF) until age 71. I try to be cheerful about it, telling myself "Better late than never!" But your graf hits on the heartbreaking truth: So much of my life was wasted trying to be someone I'm not. And I had so effectively shielded myself from potentially "risky" human relationships that no one spotted my problem and said, "Can we talk?" ... Now (after the hormones and my FFS) I'm happier and calmer than I've ever been. Yet I can't help wishing I'd started transitioning when I was 21, not 71. That's why I tell kids: "Don't make my mistake; don't kick that existential 'can down the road' until your youth is gone. You are SO smart for starting early!" ... And I sense they're doing it, too: The kids are alright! -- Jennifer Keay Davidson
Jennifer-Thank you for making time to respond. What your story also reflects back is that it is never to late to become who you are. Thank you for reaffirming what courage looks like lived forward. I am crying as I write this.
A superb, sensitive essay -- beautifully penned, it shows real empathy for Byron Noem. Initially (like so many people) I laughed at the absurdity of someone like the awful Ms. Noem (one of our worst foes) having a husband with so Big and Ironic a secret; but I regret that now, for he deserves real empathy and emotional support. Thank you for showing that to him.
Beautifully written. When I saw him I felt sad for him. I’m sure his relationship with his wife is awful. His neighbors and other folks around town said they liked him a lot. Collateral damage, indeed.
Ari-I read you consistently, and I appreciate the depth and honesty you bring to this conversation. I’ve walked a version of the path you’re describing, though mine unfolded differently. As a West Point graduate, physician, Jungian-trained therapist, and someone who came to transition later in life, what I’ve come to understand is that coherence doesn’t come simply from timing, it comes from being seen in a way that reflects something whole back to you, even when you can’t yet see it yourself.
That’s what feels most tragic in these late-life public exposures. Not just repression, but the absence of a "field" in which a person could have been recognized, early enough, and deeply enough, to allow their life to organize around something real, something coherent, something soulful. When that doesn’t happen, what emerges later looks fragmented, distorted, even caricatured, not because that’s who the person is, but because it’s what’s left after decades of disconnection from self.
As you know, gender is far more complex, and far more soulful, than our current frameworks allow. And when someone is truly seen, beyond performance, beyond transaction, beyond fear, their life can begin to take on a coherence that was always there, waiting.
Thank you for continuing to name this with such clarity-Sheila Grace
Sheila, I could have cried reading your second graf, because it's so insightful. I'm 73, someone who didn't start transitioning (at Kaiser in SF) until age 71. I try to be cheerful about it, telling myself "Better late than never!" But your graf hits on the heartbreaking truth: So much of my life was wasted trying to be someone I'm not. And I had so effectively shielded myself from potentially "risky" human relationships that no one spotted my problem and said, "Can we talk?" ... Now (after the hormones and my FFS) I'm happier and calmer than I've ever been. Yet I can't help wishing I'd started transitioning when I was 21, not 71. That's why I tell kids: "Don't make my mistake; don't kick that existential 'can down the road' until your youth is gone. You are SO smart for starting early!" ... And I sense they're doing it, too: The kids are alright! -- Jennifer Keay Davidson
Jennifer-Thank you for making time to respond. What your story also reflects back is that it is never to late to become who you are. Thank you for reaffirming what courage looks like lived forward. I am crying as I write this.