Transformation

Story by Zack Hale // Photos by Kathryn Bachen

The wooden planks and steel tracks of the trestle begin to tremble beneath her feet as the locomotive speeds toward her—its baritone horn piercing the air in a throaty warning. Get out of the way, it urges her. She refuses.

Instead, Watts remains, gazing at an imminent death.

Tired of being called a "fag" by what she describes as her conservative, gun-toting, archetypical Texan family, and mired in sorrow because she was born male, instead of female, Watts has lost the desire to live, as many pre-transition transgendered individuals do. So she waits for her body—the source of so much angst and confusion—to be struck by a train and her life to end.

For individuals who identify as transgender, transitioning to the opposite sex can be an experience that ranges from "glorious to suicidal," says Barb Yadle, founder of the Washington Gender Alliance. Studies report a pre-transition suicide rate of about 20 percent or more, with male-to-female (MTF) transgendered individuals being more likely to attempt suicide than female-to-males (FTM), according to the King County Office of Public Health and Safety. Although research is scant, many agree the transgendered community is plagued by instances of suicide because the path toward assuming a woman's body, when one was originally born a man, or vice versa is littered with obstacles. Some challenges are small and easier to surmount, like acquiring a new wardrobe or becoming accustomed to using the opposite gender's restroom. Others are bigger, such as successfully dealing with the emotions associated with coming out to one's self, family and employer; obtaining a new driver's license and birth certificate; and undergoing rigorous hormone therapy that has dramatic physiological effects.

Living as a full-time MTF, Watts knows these hardships well, having hurdled what at times seemed to be an endless set of barriers that stood in the way of becoming her true self.

Family

A 7-by-4 foot table sits in the middle of Watt's grandmother's living room—the kind of table you would expect the Cartwrights to sit down at, she says. A 16-year-old Watts sits at the head of the table while several of her uncles, who live outside of town, occupy the other seats. Her mother and grandparents stand off to the side in the living room, looking on.

The mood is tense as Watts' uncles proceed to spend two hours admonishing her—telling her how if she continues to be a fag, she will die, how disgraceful homosexuality is and how it is a sin against God. When they are finished, Watts stands up, walks out of the house and across the yard. In a fit of anger and frustration, she proceeds to bash her head into an oak tree, knocking herself unconscious.

"I was so angry, so mad at myself, for failing so hard in my family's eyes that I headbutted a tree," she says.

This "intervention," as Watts terms it, sent her into a deep depression, during which she began to drink and smoke copious amounts of weed throughout high school. In addition, her weight ballooned from 150 pounds as a sophomore, to almost 300 pounds as a senior.

"At the time, it wasn't 'my family betrayed me,' it was, 'I betrayed my family,'" Watts says. "That's the mindset I had."

At the end of a six-year bout with depression, Watts, now 28, realized she was not the problem. After graduating from high school, she began to live what is referred as a "16-7," which means she immersed herself in school and work for 16 hours a day, seven days a week. She now holds four different degrees, including an associate degree in computer programming and master's in creative writing. In 2006, Watts moved to Seattle and landed a job with Microsoft, where she worked directly under founder Bill Gates and CEO Steve Ballmer. Most family members would be incredibly proud of such accomplishments, but the majority of Watts' were not.

Her youngest brother was recently married and told her she could not attend the wedding unless she came as who she was "before [she] started all this weird fag shit," she says.

"I didn't go because that person never really existed in the first place," she says.

Of her three brothers, one sister and two parents, Watts' sister and father are the only people who openly support her, she says.

Not all transgender individuals' familial relationships are so strained. Corey Hoffman, who identifies as transgender and is the coordinator of Western's transgender support group, TransPort, says he had his parents' support early on. Both of Hoffman's parents, who are gay, sent him to a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Alliance camp when he was young, where he quickly realized that the female body he was born into felt wrong.

"I didn't really wrestle with it," Hoffman says.

Hoffman quickly entered counseling with a therapist specializing in gender-identity issues, and with his parent's consent, began to take testosterone in high school. He also recently had chest surgery to remove breast tissue, casting aside the last vestiges of his previous gender. Today, he is a young man with a voice as deep as any other and sports a thick, black chinstrap beard that lines his jaw.

Employment

One of the hardest things to do while transitioning to the opposite gender is to stay employed. Those who can make the transition without losing their house, family and job are considered success stories, Yadle says.

Washington state's transsexual community is plagued by chronic unemployment, says Rory Gould, a full-time FTM transgendered person and president of the Washington Gender Alliance. Most transsexuals are unable to survive in their current place of employment once they come out, especially if their job requires contact with the public, he says.

"Dealing with the public spooks employers because they think [transgendered persons] will hurt business," Gould says.

Transitioning is often hardest on MTFs working in "macho" industries—such as construction, truck driving and auto repair—where the work force is typically male-dominated and prone to harboring prejudices, Gould says. But, the same can be said for women who assume male bodies in female-dominated industries such as food service at certain restaurants.

Finding work after leaving an old job can be equally challenging when one's credentials, work history and other pertinent information are all under an old name, Gould says.

"When you're newly transitioned you have no life history," he says.

Many transsexual individuals are then faced with a choice.

"Do you lie about your past, or tell the truth?" Gould says. "Their day-to-day survival depends on the outcome of these types of decisions."

Unfortunately, accurate statistics regarding transgendered employment are nearly impossible to come by, Gould says.

"Any statistic you see is bogus, because there are vast numbers of [transgendered persons] who are unwilling to publicly raise their hand and say, 'I'm one!'" Gould says. "They're afraid of the exposure."

Watts echoes this sentiment, citing Texans' intolerance as one of the reasons why she left her life there behind in exchange for a new beginning in a more open-minded city.

"One of the great things about Seattle is I can be wearing beach shorts and a tank top, walk into 99 percent of the restaurants there, have money, eat, pay and walk out no problem," Watts says. "In Texas, if I tried to do that they wouldn't even let me through the door."

Hormones and surgery

Watts says the biggest obstacles transgendered individuals face generally revolve around interacting with other people, whether it be a family member or employer. But, the physiological challenge of crossing the gender divide should not be discounted either. Transitioning can be highly expensive and emotionally disconcerting. Hormone regimens are guaranteed to alter a recipient's biological makeup, and the average cost of MTF sex reassignment surgery is about $20,000, according to a recent study conducted by Mary Anne Horton, a professor at Berkeley. The average price tag of FTM sex reassignment surgery, which is a less complex procedure, is about $12,900.

Without insurance, transgendered individuals must pay out of pocket. This requires many to save for several years, and those working low paying jobs often have little hope of ever having sex reassignment surgery performed.

While hormones are far less expensive than surgery, they still have dramatic effects. Hoffman says he experienced "roid rage," where he would get angry more frequently, and his sex drive went through the roof.

"I thought I had a high sex drive before I started taking testosterone, but it was nothing compared with afterward," he says.

Most surprising was how quickly his voice dropped, he says, which literally occurred over a two-day period.

Unlike Hoffman, Watts had to train herself to speak in a higher tone. But unlike many MTFs, Watts says she feels lucky because she has a naturally feminine figure. Physical characteristics matter little to Watts though—she values self-confidence above all, and believes it to be the most telling characteristic a transgendered person can have.

"I've seen stunning, beautiful trans girls who just have no self confidence," she says. "Even though they put so much work into it, they don't carry a little bit of that 'I'm a woman and I'm proud of it' demeanor with them—and you can tell right off the bat."

One must identify as the man or woman they wish to become, or else he or she will remain stuck with only one foot in the door, she says.

Awakening

At the bottom of the creek bed, Watts wakes up. It has been several hours since the train came and went. She remembers the trestle shuddering under the train's weight, the sound of its horn and fleeting images of slowly falling off the bridge. She thinks she might have fainted, but is unsure. Excluding minor bruises and abrasions, she marvels at the fact that she has escaped serious injury.

She slowly gathers herself, stands up, and begins to walk back home. Her family will not notice her when she returns. And no one will protest when she leaves a few days later for college, seldom to be heard from again. But at this moment, there is something different about Danielle Watts. She knows she has to get better. Her path forward has been illuminated.

Today, Watts is a confident woman. On April 4, 2010, Watts will finally have sex reassignment surgery, taking the final step in becoming the woman she already is.