Interview with Fran Fried - Part 4

Monika: Do you think that we could live to see the day when a transgender lady could become the President of the USA? Or the First Lady at least? :)

Fran: I hope, given what we have dominating all three branches of our government right now, that we can all just live to see the next day, period! But if we get past what could become the worst crisis in our history, and we get our collective sanity back, I could see a transwoman eventually as president, though I’m not sure about it in my lifetime. I mean, why not? Of course, there would be an uproar if a non-trans woman didn’t break the glass ceiling first – which many of us thought definitely was going to happen a few months ago – but in time. Maybe not in my lifetime, but I can envision it.

Monika: Do you like fashion? What kind of outfits do you usually wear? Any special fashion brands, colors, or trends?

Fran: Well, I’m on the big side (all those years of anxiety/depression eating), though I’m doing my best to work it off (I do go to the gym four days a week). It does limit what I can wear, but it’s my fault; I know that. (Had I been able to transition at a lot younger age, not had to deal with the anxiety, perhaps I would’ve stayed the skinny thing I was until my mid-to-late 20s, maybe pursued dance beyond the elective ballet and jazz classes I took as a senior in college. And bought lots of groovy paisley '60s dresses at thrift stores.)

That said, I knew very early on that I would have to wear a lot of loose-fitting clothes. I did some searching on the Web when I began the journey, and I found a page that discussed what types of clothing were best for different body types. Look – if I could get away with ’50s dresses out of a Douglas Sirk movie, or tight blouses and pencil skirts, I would. But that’s not realistic at this point. For me, it’s mostly tunic-type tops, and a few dresses, a couple of pairs of jeans, a couple of skirts, and lots of leggings and tights. I found a great website to buy tops early in the trip; it’s called HolyClothing.com, an American company that sells ethically made tops, dresses, and skirts from India, and their sizes run from small to 5X. Some of the dresses and skirts are too hippie or Ren Faire for my tastes, but their tops have done me well. Some of my other clothes are from a couple of friends in Fresno who lost a lot of weight; they still look great and I wear them proudly.

And I was always a shoe fiend. I have dozens – some from eBay (which sometimes is a great place to find them on the cheap), others from various stores. Shoes were my first visual cue that maybe I was different. I was about 4, 5 – it was white go-go boots and Mary Janes, and eventually, as I grew a little older, ballet slippers. I wasn’t into heels, though that would come a bit later. My tastes as a grown kid run, naturally, to ballerina flats and Mary Janes, in various colors. (I still haven’t splurged on the go-go boots, but maybe one day …) 

As far as heels go, I like them (at least until they start to hurt) – not too high, generally, maybe 1-2 inches. And as I said above, I learned to stride very well in heels both literally and figuratively. However, I haven’t worn them in a long time. I blew out my right knee 2 ½ years ago – simply walking down a step heading to a subway in Grand Central – and while the knee is fine now (though my football career is over, I’m afraid), I’m still skittish about heels, as I was about stairs for a long time. Also, I need to drop more weight so I don’t have to worry about balance or extra wear on the knee joints. I have a few nice pairs that are just sitting in boxes, but I can wear wedges pretty well in the interim.

Looking fab heading to my 35th
high school reunion, October 2014.

Monika: I have read somewhere that cisgender women were liberated thanks to the development of contraceptive pills whereas transgender women are free now thanks to the development of cosmetic surgery, so they are no longer prisoners of passing or non-passing syndrome …

Fran: I don’t think I’d go that far. That’s because plastic surgery is awfully expensive, and not covered by health insurance, and many transwomen can’t afford it. (I could go for a good lipo and tummy-tuck right about now …)

I wouldn’t call passing a “syndrome,” though. I mean, at least for me, the whole idea of passing has always been about wanting to look my best, the way I’ve wanted to look my whole life, wearing things I always wear (within reason). But I’d be lying if I didn’t think passing was a good defense mechanism in the everyday world, since there’s always the chance of running into some meathead somewhere who could give me a hard time if he read me.

If someone doesn’t want to pass one way or the other, fine; no biggie. Me? I choose to pass and live the way I always wanted to. Physically, I do pass, and in person, I trained my voice to be comfortably somewhere around midrange – not too deep anymore, not too artificially high. If you think about it, many men project from the bottom of their lungs, many women from the top, and sometimes my voice comes from closer to the bottom. Despite doing radio and narrating a movie, I still think it’s the weakest part of my game; on the phone, I get “sir” much more often than I like.

Monika: What do you think about transgender beauty pageants?

Fran: I was never a fan of beauty pageants at all, but if they make some transpeople feel better about themselves, then why not? One of the great rewards of the whole transition process is becoming yourself, finding self-esteem, and people should be able to do that without others passing judgment on them – most especially other transpeople. Then again, all beauty contests are about passing judgment on another level, aren’t they?

Monika: Many transgender ladies write their memoirs. Have you ever thought about writing such a book yourself?

Fran: I’m actually inching my way toward that. Some of my closest friends have been telling me for years, “Write the goddamn book!” (Yes, that’s a quote.) And the title came to me right at the outset. I started keeping notes, a journal of sorts, in 2008, after I had my epiphany. Part of the reason I started my blog was to explain the transition trip to others, especially as I was living through the thick of it, and condense some of my experiences for my book. I’ve cut back greatly on writing on the blog because I think I’ve accomplished explaining my experience to the point where most people now understand it better. And there’s another, deeper reason …

My big problem has been the Battle of Myself. It’s been that way my whole life. But even at my lowest self-esteem, I knew that I could write, could do a great job at it, and did. The job (and jobless) situation changed all that. When you’ve done a very good job wherever you’ve worked all your life, and you send out hundreds upon hundreds of résumés (all letters handcrafted, none the same), and 99.9 percent of the time you don’t even get the decency of even a “You suck,” that takes a lot out of you. At least it did for me.

Sure, I know that some places are inhuman – literally; at some companies and colleges, computers, not people, read job applications – and that there’s that near-impossible-to-prove age discrimination as well. But at a certain point, I began to think “Maybe I really do suck that badly!” The constant grind of being ignored – along with the constant economic fight, plus my parents’ illnesses – led to a lot of stress and depression (and I thought my first hormone shot cleared up 35 years of it!), very prolonged feelings of uselessness and worthlessness and just plain failure. I stopped keeping notes for the book – if no one wants to read what I have to offer, who the hell would read a book if I wrote it? The inner Peggy Lee said, “Oh, no – I’m not ready for that final disappointment!”

In the process – and I just realized this earlier this year – I somehow, gradually, unlearned all the good things I learned in the transition. I’ve had to re-teach myself the things I told myself when I first plunged into it. I’m having to learn to internalize them again. It’s a slow and steady process.

But now I think I’m ready. I’ve finally (!!!) found a logical place to end the book. That, and the possibility of some big things happening (amidst the darkness, I keep thinking something good has to happen!), have re-energized me. So has the realization that I just turned 56, and I should get this thing finished before I’m too old. Now I have to tackle one hell of a mess – I have over a thousand pages of journal-like entries that I have to pore through and condense, hundreds of Facebook posts, a few dozen gender-related blog posts, and re-creations of events I didn’t write down because I was so deep into the darkness.

My first girls' day out and my first makeover.
San Francisco, MLK Day 2008.

Monika: Could you tell me about the importance of love in your life?

Fran: If you’re talking about love in the platonic sense, it’s been extremely important. The love I’ve been shown by strangers as well as some of the people closest to me has been what’s kept me afloat at my most turbulent times. They have no idea how much they’ve helped me, and how they kept me from driving out to the ocean and walking in at times, especially in California. Love is important in so many of our lives, and this is how it’s manifested itself in my life. A lot of times, and maybe this was the way I was brought up, I don’t feel as if I deserve it.

If you’re talking about romantic love, at this point it’s nonexistent. I haven’t had a first date in about 15 years, or just over six years before my epiphany. It’s tricky. I’m looking for a non-trans woman primarily, same as I did pre-transition, though if it were the right chemistry, I'd be open to another transwoman as well. People like who they like and love who they love, I guess. My dearest friend was my girlfriend for four years half a lifetime ago. We still love each other dearly – she’s family to me – but, among other things, she prefers guys.

And I know plenty of women who are bright and attractive, but most of them have boyfriends or husbands, or they like guys, so that’s a non-starter. And if I made the first move, I’d feel as if I were violating a code of sorts. My friends accepted me into the club right away, no questions asked. The last thing I’d want to do if I were interested to make them uncomfortable, make them feel as if I were hitting on them like some guy in a bar. I guess I have to, at least, in this case, be the traditional, old-school girl and let someone show an interest in me. And I’m not doing online personals – too many risks. 

Maybe there’s a sugar mama out there? I say that half-jokingly.

Monika: Are you working on any new projects now?

Fran: I’m actually trying to just get hired at a full-time job where I can both make an impact and be paid like a real human being. As I said before, at some point something has to stick. Maybe something happens out of the blue; who knows?

My pipe-dream list includes politics, an acting career (while transpeople are a hot commodity), going back to school to get a master’s in American history, maybe recording an album, maybe having my radio show catch fire, and build a huge following. We Geminis want to do everything, you know? :) On the whole, though, I’d like to be known as a good soul who cares a lot about the world and is constantly trying to find a place where I can best use my good qualities.

Monika: What would you recommend to all transgender girls struggling with gender dysphoria?

Fran: I can’t speak to all transgirls; again, we’re all from different backgrounds and levels of support and prejudice. But I certainly hope and pray that everyone can experience great joy and little pain from being themselves. I hope they can find their inner strength and their sense of self-worth in all this. Transition is, indeed, a journey.

I’d like to say, if one of you is struggling mightily with your dysphoria, is please hold on and stick around. I know that’s much, much easier said than done, but don’t let the bastards get you down to the point where you actually believe them. Transition is all about embracing change, after all – use your transition to change your situation to somewhere near what you have in mind; don’t let others change yours for you. And there are more of us, and people who support us, than you can imagine.

At my worst points, one of the things that kept me going was this: I’m a pinball fiend (I’ve been one since adolescence), and I’ve always wanted to stick around to put another ball in play. That became a metaphor in my life – even at my worst, I’ve stuck around to put a ball in play the next day. I won’t say “It gets better” or anything cliché like that – how does anyone guarantee that? – but one of the good things about living is the mystery of it all, to know that things could be much different the next day. They could be worse, true, but they certainly could turn out a lot better, too. Keep playing. The game will end soon enough. Stick around ’til the finish. You might be pleasantly surprised.

In a moment of happiness. Cafe Nine,
New Haven, May 2017. (Tom Hearn photo)

Monika: My pen friend Gina Grahame wrote to me once that we should not limit our potential because of how we were born or by what we see other transsexuals and transgender people doing. Our dreams should not end on an operating table; that’s where they begin. Do you agree with this?

Fran: I didn’t end up in an operating room as part of my transition, and I started living my dreams long before the transition. Post-transition and post-job upheaval and post-50, I’ve had to work on digging deeper amidst my dark periods, finding dreams to follow now that I’ve done the things I dreamed of in my youth.

Gina is absolutely right – we should never limit our own potential, period, and yes, I now realize I did just that when I gave up on my writing ambitions amidst the job turmoil. And we should never be limited by our transitions. I can’t speak for anyone but myself – and again, I know there are transpeople who’ve had much more difficult roads than I’ve had – but in my case, being totally honest with myself and my identity has expanded my potential to some extent. That’s where the liberation has come in – the truth has set me free, and all that.

Also, it ties into something I found to be self-evident early on. While I totally understand the reason for Pride parades – and I marched in the ones in Fresno and San Francisco – I have a hard time with the word “pride” as it pertains to LGBTQI. You can’t be proud of the way you were born – gender identity, sexual identity, ethnicity, skin color, hair color, eye color, hand dominance, whatever – because you didn’t have a choice; it’s how you came out of the womb. The pride comes from what you do with the hand you’re dealt. And I keep pushing on in the hope that one day I’ll have a winning hand, and that I’ll have done something for which I can truly be proud.
Monika: Fran, thank you for the interview! 
Fran: No – thank you for including me in your blog and for doing what you do!

All the photos: courtesy of Fran Fried.

© 2017 - Monika Kowalska