Monika: Well said!
Fran: I’ve done some other things that look good on any résumé. I’ve hosted radio shows since 1991. I had a regular show on WPKN, a well-regarded nonprofit community FM station in Bridgeport, for 13 years until my move, and I’ve sporadically done fill-in shows since. And since February 2013, I’ve hosted a regular show, “Franorama 2.0,” on Cygnus Radio, an online station based here in Connecticut. It’s a hybrid between a podcast and freeform ’70s FM radio; we play whatever we want (with me, it’s mostly garage, Northern soul, early punk, some great new sounds, and many things in between), whenever we want, and since we’re Web, we’re certainly not restricted by FCC language rules. And I have listeners from around the world.
In early 2017, I narrated a documentary, "The High School That Rocked!" It’s a half-hour film about Staples High in Westport, CT. It’s a half-hour film about Staples High in Westport, CT. Before rock concerts became an “industry,” they brought some of the biggest names in the business to their auditorium: The Beau Brummels, The Remains, The Animals, The Rascals, The Yardbirds with Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck (with Steven Tyler’s teenage band opening), Cream, The Doors, Sly & the Family Stone, Phil Ochs, and Buddy Miles. It’s been well-received so far on the documentary circuit. I’ve also been a talking head in two music documentaries (on The Remains and longtime Connecticut band The Reducers) and sung on a couple of tribute albums (The Reducers and a longtime New Haven duo, The Furors).
In early 2017, I narrated a documentary, "The High School That Rocked!" It’s a half-hour film about Staples High in Westport, CT. It’s a half-hour film about Staples High in Westport, CT. Before rock concerts became an “industry,” they brought some of the biggest names in the business to their auditorium: The Beau Brummels, The Remains, The Animals, The Rascals, The Yardbirds with Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck (with Steven Tyler’s teenage band opening), Cream, The Doors, Sly & the Family Stone, Phil Ochs, and Buddy Miles. It’s been well-received so far on the documentary circuit. I’ve also been a talking head in two music documentaries (on The Remains and longtime Connecticut band The Reducers) and sung on a couple of tribute albums (The Reducers and a longtime New Haven duo, The Furors).
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| Elvis and me. Fresno, late 2006, a little more than a year before my epiphany. |
I also do some public speaking/advocacy about the trans thing. I’ve spoken about the challenges of trans healthcare to an undergrad nursing class and a graduate nurse practitioner class at Southern Connecticut State University; talked about gender identity to classes at Capital Community College in Hartford and Manhattanville College, and to a teen group at the Unitarian Society of New Haven. I’ve also recently spoken to a meeting of the Connecticut Association of Electrology.
And in October 2015, I was asked for my input when the William Floyd School District, an 8,000-student district in Suffolk County, Long Island, was creating a formal trans-inclusionary student policy. And at the beginning of August, I fulfilled a lifelong goal by being a contestant on "Jeopardy," a show I've watched since the very early days of the original version, as a toddler in Brooklyn. To the best of our knowledge (the staff's and mine), I'm only the third trans contestant they've had. I can't discuss how I did, as my appearance won't be shown until mid-October, but it'll make for some epic television, I can tell you that much.
And in October 2015, I was asked for my input when the William Floyd School District, an 8,000-student district in Suffolk County, Long Island, was creating a formal trans-inclusionary student policy. And at the beginning of August, I fulfilled a lifelong goal by being a contestant on "Jeopardy," a show I've watched since the very early days of the original version, as a toddler in Brooklyn. To the best of our knowledge (the staff's and mine), I'm only the third trans contestant they've had. I can't discuss how I did, as my appearance won't be shown until mid-October, but it'll make for some epic television, I can tell you that much.
Monika: I saw your short story in The New York Times series titled “Transgender Today.” Why did you decide to come out to the general public?
Fran: I actually had already been out publicly a few years at that point (2015). When I was first job-hunting in ’09, I figured that being out and open – and completely owning it – was the best defense. No one could hold any secrets over me, for one. For another, I had to learn to interact in public without drawing undue attention to myself. (Great lesson learned: Act as if you belong, and you’ll belong. People are so wrapped up in their own lives that they won’t notice you unless you act awfully nervous and draw attention to yourself. Easier said than done, I know.) And for another, I found a reserve of self-esteem and strength I never knew I had.
I encountered these occasional speed bumps along the way – the inner voice asking “Is this where you really want to go?” as I inched toward full-time and toward hormones. It was good to pause and reflect. And my answer was always the same: “Can you see yourself living as a man again?” Easy decision. But I told myself, when I decided to venture into trying to find a job, “Three things: 1) You’re not a freak, 2) you’re not a piece of shit, and 3) you’re not a second-class citizen and you’re not gonna be treated as such.” I took that and internalized it, and I grew into it. I became, to some extent, the woman I wanted to have been all along. To a large extent, I owned it, and soon I could stride in heels figuratively as well as literally.
I started a blog called Franorama World in the winter of 2010. The initial purpose was to let the job world know I was Web-savvy. (Didn’t help.) I was thrashing around trying to figure out what to write about, and somewhere early on, I had a “Duh!” moment – Write about your transition! It’ll help people try to understand what this crazy trip is that you’re going through, and it can be the basis for your book. So that I did.
I started a blog called Franorama World in the winter of 2010. The initial purpose was to let the job world know I was Web-savvy. (Didn’t help.) I was thrashing around trying to figure out what to write about, and somewhere early on, I had a “Duh!” moment – Write about your transition! It’ll help people try to understand what this crazy trip is that you’re going through, and it can be the basis for your book. So that I did.
In the winter of 2011, I broke down, at the urging of my dearest friend in the universe, Paola, back in New Haven, and started a Facebook account. That was my coming-out to many friends back East. And people came out of the woodwork; I lost two people in the process (both back here) and gained hundreds around the world. I was lucky; I do count my blessings.
Anyway, in June 2011, the week I turned 50, Connecticut’s state Senate was debating adding trans to the list of protections in its civil rights laws. Since I was already out to many people, I emailed my old New Haven Register colleagues and pitched an op-ed piece leading into the vote at the session’s end later that week. Maybe if readers could attach a face to it – maybe someone they used to read regularly in the paper – it might help push the cause along. The story ran on a Wednesday morning, and the messages and friend requests came in an avalanche. And damned if they didn’t run the piece in a story package on A1; I wasn’t expecting that. And the Senate passed the bill early Saturday morning, on my birthday.
Anyway, in June 2011, the week I turned 50, Connecticut’s state Senate was debating adding trans to the list of protections in its civil rights laws. Since I was already out to many people, I emailed my old New Haven Register colleagues and pitched an op-ed piece leading into the vote at the session’s end later that week. Maybe if readers could attach a face to it – maybe someone they used to read regularly in the paper – it might help push the cause along. The story ran on a Wednesday morning, and the messages and friend requests came in an avalanche. And damned if they didn’t run the piece in a story package on A1; I wasn’t expecting that. And the Senate passed the bill early Saturday morning, on my birthday.
I was back at the Register in 2015 when Caitlyn Jenner came out, and it was natural that they’d ask me to write another op-ed. About the same time, I saw the “Transgender Today” feature that The New York Times’ Opinion section had begun online – 400-word profiles from people all over the T spectrum. I did it partly as a writing exercise (writing short, which, obviously, this isn’t), partly as a way of adding some more pixels to the mosaic that The Times was building – another person living out in the everyday world in a pretty interesting time, being on the vanguard of the final frontier of civil rights.
Monika: You transitioned into a woman in your late 40s. Have you ever regretted doing this so late in your life?
Fran: I guess everything in its time – though it would’ve made my life a hell of a lot easier had I been able to do this at a much younger age. But I couldn’t have done this back when I was a kid, in the ’60s and ’70s, for several reasons. I grew up with strict parents in a Catholic home. Also, there was very little understanding of gender dysphoria at the time, among professionals and laypeople alike – I mean there wasn’t really a common language until the early 2010s, when you think about it – and had I gone to a therapist back then as a tortured teen, I might have ended up even more screwed-up.
So yes – I would’ve loved to have been able to transition as a child or a teen because it might have helped me avoid years of depression and the accompanying depression/anxiety overeating that came with it. And, of course, I would’ve been much more of myself. But it’s what it is. It wasn’t possible at the time for a lot of reasons. I’m just glad that it happened while I was still young enough to enjoy much of it.
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| Only one of us is made of Legos. Sam and me at the Mark Twain House, Hartford, December 2015. |
Monika: At that time of your transition, did you have any transgender role models that you followed?
Fran: Not particularly. But I mean, there were certainly people I made note of over my formative years who made an impact on me before I truly knew where I was headed. I read wire stories about Christine Jorgensen and the noted English travel writer Jan Morris not long before puberty; I was especially taken with Morris’ before-and-after photos – a dour, unhappy-looking man and a woman with a total, unabashed smile. There was Caroline Cossey, aka Tula, who became a Bond girl.
And in the ’80s, I’d read about, and seen photos of, Roberta Close, the stunning Brazilian model. In the ’90s, a good friend bought me Holly Woodlawn’s memoir, “A Low Life in High Heels,” one birthday. (The wild side, indeed!) And in the ’90s, I read Leslie Feinberg’s "Transgender Warriors"; the book was a great history lesson (I guess I actually was questioning back then, or at the least fascinated), and I felt a deep respect for Feinberg and what she had done.
I have great and special respect for everyone who transitioned early on – with no real path to follow, little info to go on, sometimes lots of research to do, and a LOT of fear of repercussions – of shunning, of losing jobs, of ridicule, of violence. Obviously, and sadly, while we’ve come a long way, those fears are still all-too-real – and justified.
I have great and special respect for everyone who transitioned early on – with no real path to follow, little info to go on, sometimes lots of research to do, and a LOT of fear of repercussions – of shunning, of losing jobs, of ridicule, of violence. Obviously, and sadly, while we’ve come a long way, those fears are still all-too-real – and justified.
Monika: Are there are any transgender ladies that you admire and respect now?
Fran: Well, generally speaking, I have respect for anyone who’s gone through our particular trip!
I haven’t found my niche yet, which is frustrating – I haven’t found the place where I can best use my talents and social connections and visibility and truly make a difference – but I have great respect for transpeople in general, across the spectrum, who have made some impact. A few years back, I met Christina Kahrl, who’s one of the country’s most respected baseball writers (as a co-founder of the Baseball Prospectus, she was at the forefront of statistics-driven baseball); she’s a baseball editor at ESPN, and her work as a journalist has obviously broken down barriers, and when she was living in Chicago, she also did a lot of work to further trans civil rights there.
There are other women as well whose stories in recent years have inspired me on some level. Victoria Kolakowski, in Alameda County (Oakland), became California’s first trans trial judge while I was living out west. Also, there was Amanda Simpson, who became a deputy defense secretary under Barack Obama, the first openly trans presidential appointee. Of course, Laverne Cox’s story from struggle to stardom is well-known at this point.
Monika: We all pay the highest price for the fulfillment of our dreams to be ourselves. As a result, many trans women lose their families, friends, jobs, and social positions. Did you pay such a high price as well? What was the hardest thing about your coming out?
Fran: The hardest thing was, as I’m guessing has been the case with so many of us, fear. I firmly believe fear and gravity are the two ruling forces that govern the world. Had I, as is the case with many of us, not been so afraid of the consequences earlier in life, I could have done this at a younger age. (And maybe, as I mentioned, I wouldn’t have been in a position where I’ve had to struggle with my weight for half my life. I’m doing my damndest now to right that ship so I can keep health problems from popping up.)
It’s easy to look back now with 20/20 hindsight and say “What were you so afraid of?” But when I was confronted with my reality, in that huge moment of honest clarity a decade ago, I was frightened beyond anything I’d ever experienced, and for all the reasons you brought up. (But I was more exhausted and relieved that I finally confronted it and didn’t have to fight it anymore.) It all boiled down to that universal question: “What will people think?” It’s why I took such tiny, timid baby steps, in the privacy of my house, the first few months, with only a couple of friends knowing what I was doing. Tiny steps – little pebbles that would make for a strong foundation. Then, it was my closest friends at home. Then it was, gradually, my friends in the Tower District in Fresno. Each step I took outward from that core, each stone added to the foundation, gave me a little more confidence, a little more strength – because I knew I was gonna need every bit of strength as I inched toward coming out to my family.
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| DJ Franorama 2.0, working the Detroit Cobras show, Cafe Nine, New Haven, 1/1/2015 |
My family said all the right things when I finally did come out, but as I mentioned, it was 14 months of weirdness before all was well with the folks. I was pretty much at my breaking point, between the stress of the family and the joblessness when I had the longest conversation I ever had with my father, about 40 minutes on the phone from California, the week before Thanksgiving 2010. And the turning point? It was when I mentioned how I had been on hormones a few months, and how they cleared up 35 years of depression like that. And what I didn’t know was that, as he was going through his first go-round with prostate cancer at that point, the doctor had put him on estrogen to shrink his prostate. It was a common ground, it was something medical, and he could relate in some way. So that was a really good, and unexpected, icebreaker.
But the second half of this was that I called one of my cousins in Pennsylvania right after I got off the phone with him. My folks were leaving it up to me to tell the relatives, and I hadn’t started yet because of the resistance I was getting from my immediate family. I figured she might be the safest place to start. And her response was “We love you. Come on home.” So I called my father back and told him what she said, and he said, “That’s good.” And I felt his sigh of relief over the phone from 3,000 miles away. And a month later, when I came home for Christmas, all was well. That was when my tower of anxiety crumbled once and for all.
But the second half of this was that I called one of my cousins in Pennsylvania right after I got off the phone with him. My folks were leaving it up to me to tell the relatives, and I hadn’t started yet because of the resistance I was getting from my immediate family. I figured she might be the safest place to start. And her response was “We love you. Come on home.” So I called my father back and told him what she said, and he said, “That’s good.” And I felt his sigh of relief over the phone from 3,000 miles away. And a month later, when I came home for Christmas, all was well. That was when my tower of anxiety crumbled once and for all.
And looking back on it years later, I realized that my parents’ path was governed by the same overriding fear I had: What will everyone think? In their case, it was the extended family and their circle of friends, many of whom they knew from church. In the end, they walked the walk of their faith, put their fears behind them, took me back in when I was in dire straits, and we interacted on the day-to-day and all was, well, normal and mundane from that point. The way it should be.
As I said before, I did lose a couple of friends over the transition, and that really bothered me at the time. In time, not so much, then not at all beyond a mild annoyance. Besides, I made more friends than I ever knew I could have. It was the biggest surprise of my entire trip. And none of the jobs I’ve had since have laid me off for gender reasons; I was among groups of people discarded during larger layoffs.
That said, while I’m the person I projected myself to be in the everyday world when I first went full-time, and generally, I walk confidently, there are still times when I’m not in familiar places when I open that extra pair of eyes in the back of my head, keep on the lookout for situations that could get ugly. That hasn’t gone away.
END OF PART 2
All the photos: courtesy of Fran Fried.
© 2017 - Monika Kowalska
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