Sterile like the moon: the joys of transgender healthcare
Summer, 2016: Gina's Big Bang, as transitioning begins
A bureaucratic question in a sun-lit room. My medical practitioner asks me if I intend to have children. The question lingers, but the self-loathing is instant. No, I won't be having children. The practitioner nods. She moves on to the next question. But I can't remember what follows in this recollection, I only remember the question and the answer that has left me sterile.
I sit in the presence of a caring professional, final questions prior to the surgery poised for January 2020. She asks about sexual relationships. I admit there is a woman I am attracted to. The professional asks me about having children. I say it's too late. She tells me it isn't, that it's normal for trans people to have children. During my whole transitioning, no one ever spoke to me like this. An exploration of the issue, rather than the quiet, implicit understanding that children would be a bad idea for a transgender person. We agree to postpone surgery and for me to come off hormones.
8 March, 2020
Now, here I sit on a Sunday evening, several months off hormones and blockers, watching the moon watching me, both of us waiting for something to happen, but neither of us showing signs of life. Other times, I look into the mirror, searching for the meteorite-like impact of testosterone, hurtling to wipe out my femininity. Photos of when I looked feminine, like fossils to be found by head-scratching scientists.
I wonder if the moon was ever asked, on its choice to become a moon, or a planet, what it's like to be sterile. Just get on with it, says the Moon, just hit the switch and get this Big Bang over with, there are much bigger things to worry about, like survival. I wonder if God said, "Are you sure? Let's talk about this, it's a pretty big decision. Moon, are you listening?"
Perhaps God, like my medical practitioners, didn't press the issue. There are already enough life-giving planets, and whoever heard of a moon that gives life? It's kind of unnatural, you're only the satellite of a real thing. Don't go getting ideas above your station. At best, you're there to be discovered, photographed, visited, explored, prodded, samples of you taken away for a lab. You're not a real human being. You circle in silence, alone in the darkness, a sliver of sunlight, a total eclipse.