My Gifted Life

Just now when I thought things were basically over, I’ve had another rude awakening. Perhaps it was just about my personality. I can’t take all the info out of this post – those who know me personally in the Jewish community will know where I attend and other details, but I’ll leave those out of this missive.

I’ve been in my community for twenty eight years. I’ve been on the board, been the 2nd vp, the vp, the president, and due to some other details best left out I was past president twice. Needless to say I’m well known and everyone knows I transitioned. In fact, most people were told one on one before the big day when I showed up in January 2014 as Rachel, a few months before I came out at work.

The reactions to my transition were mixed, more mixed then I expected from a progressive group of  Jews, but reality isn’t politics. The responses have changed and mellowed over the years, and it should be understood have never been hostile in any overt way.

I went in for the Rosh hashana service somewhat early and sat at the end of an empty row. Perhaps in retrospect a mistake on my part. My row remained empty until we were thirty minutes into the service and the only other out transgender person sat at the other end of the  row. Here we were,  two refugees.

It occurred to me that none of the people who I hugged had thought anything about leaving me by myself with four empty seats. Something I can’t imagine doing in a similar situation to one I called a friend.

So here I am, five years after the journey with HRT started, wondering why people can be so cruel. I do believe many of them do care for me, but astonishingly not enough to include me in their circles. It really makes me no more than an acquaintance.

I’m wondering where I belong and what is tying me to a group of people who would see me alone and do nothing.