I is for 'Integration'

This is a post mostly about allyship and the difference that allies make to my life - but I used up 'A' - and I'm not waiting another 18 posts to do it - not least as I promised one of my staunchest allies that I'd put some thoughts down for her to speak at a conference shortly.

I used the word 'integration' as for me, that is what (mostly) straight, cisgender allies give to people in the trans community - it's beyond 'tolerance' or 'acceptance' - it's integration. The allies in my life accept me as a woman - whether I am able to present myself as one or not; they include and integrate me into women's spaces - both physically and intellectually.

Song for the post - it's George Michael (and I'm sorry George it took so long - Spotify reckons i'm in your top 1% of fans...) - because being able to be open and out with my allies is the best sort of freedom.

I've told my story to now - how I hid myself for so long, with an almost pathological fear of discovery - the few times it came close ended with me making up ridiculous stories about why I had a wig delivered to work (as an example) - bolstered by my half-irish skills at storytelling - all the time shrivelling inside at lying to people I liked and cared about. In the year leading up to my coming out, my business had made great, visible strides at inclusion and integration of the LGBT+ and other minority communities internally - every day at the printer I was faced with a poster inviting me to 'bring my true self to "werk"' - feeling for the longest time that this was a pipe dream - colleagues proudly wore lanyards emblazoned with the word 'ally' - I didn't wear one - to my shame for fear of outing myself (I now recognise how ridiculous that was)

And yet - I still had no sense of whether or not these lanyards meant acceptance, tolerance or just going with the crowd. I was soon to find out.

In August last year, where I hit crisis point on holiday - my life was quite literally saved by a very old and dear friend from University days - an American called Aimee. I'd hosted Aimee and her family on a visit to London - where I gave my (I think) legendary London walking tour, and we've remained good friends in the 25 years since college, on that fateful night on the edge of a dam, it was an innocent whatsapp message to ask how the holiday was going - I had my phone out checking my life insurance status, and her message arrived as I read; if i were a bigger believer in fate, I'd say that was a good example of it - i poured out how I'd 'ruined my life' and that of the people I love - her response was accepting, warm and loving - she reminded me that I was a human, that I was loved by my family (especially my daughter) and that people would never understand not having me in the world. I was snapped back to reality - this warmth and acceptance of me as Emily was total - even if it was a surprise. She talked on whatsapp for what was probably a couple of hours, bringing me back to reality without judgement or the disgust I assumed others would feel for me. It was my first tangible contact with an ally - someone to advocate and accept me, to integrate me into their life as the real me.

Back in the UK, I had returned to work, and as a result of a colleague seeing a parcel I'd had delivered to work from wish.com (!) - a wig with a customs label I had in a panic embellished a story about a rocky horror show reunion party (I know right) - and the irish in me made it really elaborate - I wanted everyone to know I was going to this 'special' party and that I was in no way buying a cheap chinese wig to relieve dysphoria at my lack of hair. The trouble with this story is that everyone, and I mean everyone wanted to see a picture from the evening - because of course they did. I had pictures, but these pictures were from my first time having a makeup lesson - the first time I saw the real me - not me in fishnets playing up to the 'sweet transvestite' stereotype - so of course I was entirely unable to share them. So I laughed it off - made out that the pics were so scandalous that I couldn't share them. I hated myself for lying, I hated myself for trivialising such a deep seated thing for me, I hated myself for not sharing the real me - a me I was proud to see in pictures for the first time. But I said 'no' - that was until I went for lunch to help a colleague with career coaching - we went to a local cafe for lunch and I gave my advice as best as I could - walking back to our cars to go back to the office I was asked again for a picture from the party, I don't know what changed inside me, but I felt the tears welling up and as I vaped by my car, I blurted out the thing I'd guarded for so long - wondering if this would be the end of my career, a friendship and a working relationship - I shared a photo from the makeover, and I shared my name. I got a hug. I got warmth, I got acceptance, I got (and I didn't realise this at the time) integration - a switch went in this fabulous friend, Veronika's, brain and she started using the right pronouns - she told me it was OK. We talked some more and her concern was for me, and what had recently happened, my family and their reaction and wellbeing and how I was going to move forward. Veronika (V) was the first colleague I came out to and proved to be a model of allyship - someone I could talk to, someone who saw me as another woman, someone who valued me as a human being - it was what I needed at that time in my life and she has become a very dear friend; joining me at my 'coming out' celebration in December where my brother met his big sister for the first time, calming my meltdowns on what clothes I would wear on my first trip out in public - listening to me cry, moan about the pain I felt and the pain I have caused - I know she's there for me, and knowing that I'm 'just Ems' to her means the world to me.

I then decided that I needed to know if this was a one off - and whether rejection was going to be the norm - I decided to tell another close colleague, Suzie about what had been happening - partly to explain my incredibly low mood, and partly because she too had been keen on photos from the non-existent event. Her reaction was similar to V's - compassion and 'normality' - it was ok, it was just one of those things - she cried a bit (sorry Suzie!) - but again saw the real me from the off - she again has become a close friend and confidante, joining me, V and my brother at my party in December - giving advice on my look, supporting me at the most nervewracking moment I'd had so far and reminding me that she just sees 'me' - no matter how much I present as male in the office environment (for now) - to her I am just one of the girls - helping me find someone to wax my horrid body hair, she's seen me as me - without extensive makeup and still saw me - knew me and recognised me - that meant the world, and gave me a sense of belonging and normality I craved.

At the office, I had already anonymously emailed the chair of our LGBT+ support network, to thank him for the work they'd done (remember the posters and lanyards) - he immediately offered to meet for coffee if I was comfortable doing so - he'd already done so much for trans visibility at work, sharing his story in our company magazine and introducing concepts like the genderbread person to a wider audience. Preston is an absolute inspiration - a walking ally maker, charismatic and open, relentlessly positive about the place in the world for trans people, and he didn't bat an eyelid when I poured out my story to him - he passed on my message of thanks to the spectrum group as I asked him to do, and introduced me to the network of allies in my work community - all of whom embraced me as the real me; coming together to see a video I'd made as me to thank them all. He's invited me into his home to meet his family when I've stayed close to the office, and I've been touched by how his visibility and openness has translated to his family who are absolutely lovely and who I now consider to be close friends. He's tireless in his goal of seeing people of all diversities integrating into the broader whole - both at work and outside and having another trans person in the same department is pretty awesome too. For some reason I never got a selfie with him (remind me to correct that!) but here he is - looking way moodier than usual!

Preston introduced me to our Diversity lead in the business - Jess, Jess is a veritable dynamo - she again listened to my familiar tale of woe and straight away asked how she could help me - and she has; involving me in the development of our company trans policy, inviting me to contribute to events internally which always recognise me as a woman who just works for the company (all I really want!) and checking in on my wellbeing every now and again - she's been behind the most incredible campaign of inclusion I have ever seen in a business - we're reminded every day at work just how many incredible and diverse people we work with - including members of the LBGT+ community, people who have been and are dealing with challenges of mental ill health, disabled colleagues and all of this on a global basis - she's also absolutely lovely and has made clear that the company is behind my transition, and she's there to ensure that everything they can do will be done - including arranging Trans awareness training for my team and leadership peers from the incomparable Rachel Reese and Emma Cusdin of Global Butterflies. As Jen, one of my team (more on this later) said to me in a message - she is an example of a strong female role model and one who enriches our business just by being in it. My biggest regret is that she hasn't yet seen the real me, but I live in hope that we get through to the finals of the National Diversity awards - for which I have nominated my brilliant company (RS Components) - vote here please! https://nationaldiversityawards.co.uk/nominate/27494/ and I'll maybe get a chance to wear a lovely evening dress (if I get to go! ;-) ).

Finally for this post I want to call out my team at work. Coming out to them was, for me, a leap into the unknown; they've seen the worst of me, tears at my desk and some very low moods; but to a person they have been there for me. Every one of them reached out to me with compassion and concern, both for me and my family as I confront the enormity of transition. They've held me up, laughed with me, asked respectful questions, and laughed with me as I learn more about myself. They attended the spectrum group en masse when my video was shown as a massive show of support to me and have become real advocates for trans people in general - learning all the time. This is another essence of allyship - a real desire to understand, learn and support with open minds. I recently at the suggestion of my therapist invited my team to join me for dinner after work to give them a chance to meet the real me, after two years with an ostensibly male manager - we had a fabulous evening with no awkwardness, no sense of 'otherness' - it was just a girls night out and it was FUN - for all of us. Their allyship to me meant that the things that usually hurt me so much - like my voice didn't matter at all because it was JUST A NIGHT OUT -

I picked up with a couple of the team the next day to see if meeting the real me had changed anything, and a conversation with Jen (in the fab yellow dress) had me crying in my car again for all the right reasons - I was making the point that the fact that we could even have such an evening was partly through the incredible efforts of Jess - Jen straight away commented that the business needed more strong female role models like Jess and me - I had never imagined someone would be able to see me that way - it meant the world but me being me, I had to check that's what she meant - she replied with this:

That's not lip service, or humouring me; that's solidarity, that's integration and that's friendship in a supportive environment, which has been fostered from the top down in the place I work. I recognise that this post has been something of a love letter to RS Components and the people in it - and I could write a lot more about friends outside of work who have been there for me and have accepted me as the same person I always was; just a better version - but that's for another day.

For now I will say that allies are not just friends, they are literally lifesavers - they mean that I can see a life, a life with fulfillment, a life of honesty, a life of not living with shame, guilt and fear and for every ally vocally supporting trans and non binary people - for every time they join us in public and lift us up as humans, they make other allies - they remove the stigma and 'otherness' of my community and I love them all for it very deeply.

The last word comes from my Boss, Simon - who is as much of an alpha male as you can imagine - a highly commercial, intelligent business leader with a pretty uncompromising view of the need for high performance at work - but since I came out to him he's been there for me - he's made sure that I do not suffer discrimination - not by edict but by example - and then this week a simple whatsapp message made my day... Thanks Simon and thank you to everyone I mentioned here (and those I didn't) - you're my life support.