Monika: Tell me about your personal style. Did becoming Kay change the way you dressed, or did you discover that your taste was already there waiting for you? Are you a dresses-and-heels girl, a practical woman, or does it depend entirely on the day?
Kay: I love an excuse to dress up. Get a dress on, wear my heels, but day to day I’m a practical girl. Jeans, trainers, trousers and a nice top to compliment that casual look. If an occasion requires me to be smart I’ll generally go for a just above knee skirt with ankle boots or court shoes, and one of my multitude of coloured tops under a coat or leather jacket.
Monika: And makeup? Are you someone who enjoys experimenting with it, or are you more of a “give me five minutes and let's get out of the house” kind of woman?
Kay: I never feel whole without my face on. Initially when younger I experimented with all manner of looks. Now I have a set regime and routine. 30 minutes, maximum, and my face is ready to face the world. I'm just about to begin electrolysis to remove the remains of my facial hair and I'm hoping that will speed up my routine. I would love to be confident enough in my appearance to leave the house makeup free. Well, maybe not mascara and a swish of lippy. I’m hoping electrolysis will enable this.
Monika: Do you enjoy being complimented on your appearance? I think many of us have a complicated relationship with compliments, especially after years of insecurity. Do you happily accept them now, or is there still a little voice saying, “Are you sure you mean me?”
Kay: I just say thank you. I like compliments as much as anyone. Having two daughters I very soon learned what worked for me and what could be considered age inappropriate. So, I’m quite confident about how I dress and use my makeup. Although my daughters and I still disagree occasionally about my preference for leopard skin print.
Monika: One thing many trans women notice after transition is that society can suddenly treat us differently. When I came out at work, I sometimes felt that certain male colleagues had mysteriously decided that becoming a woman had also lowered my IQ! Did you experience any change in the way people perceived your intelligence, authority or professional competence?
Kay: My son maintains that I am not as good a driver as I was. Cheek! One male friend delights in explaining simple DIY tasks to me. Things I was considered competent enough to do when presenting as male. I’m retired now but I know had I transitioned while I was working in health care there would have been attempts to restrict my direct involvement in patient care, but that is probably a slightly different issue.
Monika: You have also lived through something that many younger trans women cannot easily imagine, a time when there was very little information available and almost no online community to tell you, “You are not the only one.” How different do you think your journey might have been if the internet and today's transgender communities had existed when you were young?
Kay: Totally different. I had an idea when younger that presenting the opposite to biological gender was actually illegal. There was no one to ask. No information to access. The younger of my daughters does not like me to talk about the what ifs. Because she knows my life would have been so different if I had been born more recently, and in all likelihood she would not exist.
Monika: We often talk about transition as if the difficult part ends once we come out. But sometimes the loneliness only becomes visible afterwards. Did you ever experience loneliness during your journey, and if so, what helped you through it?
Kay: I felt very alone before I came out with no one to really discuss how I felt. I relied heavily on my therapist and my one trans friend, but she lives almost one hundred miles away. I used the internet a lot to connect with other trans people which was helpful but ultimately unsatisfying. And it often made me prey to some of the more predatory individuals who hang around trans sites. The cure has been coming out, talking to my family and friends openly.
Monika: Your story also makes me think about ageing. There is still an assumption that transition is something young people do, and that somehow we become “too old” to change our lives. What would you say to a woman in her fifties, sixties or seventies who is sitting at home thinking, “It's far too late for me now”?
Kay: I believe that old cliche, it's never too late. If your life has been about believing, feeling your gender is an issue, you will never reconcile that until you try it out. How I feel now as a woman is worth every second, even though I know it will be time limited by my age.
Monika: Has becoming Kay changed your relationship with your own past? Do you look back at the husband, father and professional you were and see that person as someone completely separate from Kay, or do you feel that all those versions of you belong to the same woman?
Kay: It was always me. Every caring, parental, nursing bone in my body was only present because Kay was always inside me. Now I am able to express that it puts everything else into perspective.
Monika: I imagine writing Becoming Kay must have been emotional at times, especially when you were revisiting Julia, your family, your childhood and all those years of hiding. Was there a particular chapter or memory that was especially difficult to put on paper?
Kay: It was an experience that frequently reduced me to tears. It was difficult writing about my marriage knowing my children would be among the first to read the book. Julia and I did love each other, but it was often not a bed of roses. During some of our more bitter arguments the ‘Trangender Stick’ could be taken out to beat me. I skipped over this in the book. I still carry the guilt of thinking perhaps Julia’s life would have been better had she not married a trans woman in hiding.
Monika: And was there anything that made you laugh while writing it? I love memoirs that don't take themselves too seriously. Even in the most difficult stories, life has a wonderful habit of producing ridiculous moments.
Kay: Even now I can see the absurdity of my situation and my daughters and I frequently joke about it. Both of my daughters take delight in calling me Dad in public if it will confuse a shop assistant or a member of the public. A running joke of my elder daughter is to challenge any tale of someone's misfortune by saying ‘Really!? Try getting to 42 and your 60 year old father decides he's a woman!’
Monika: What did you hope your family would feel when they eventually read your story? Was the book partly a way of explaining yourself to people you love, or was it primarily something you needed to do for yourself?
Kay: The book's main purpose for me was to explain who I am and why I am now Kay. I wanted my children to know the whole story about me. I also hope it will be read, and speak to the people in my extended family who cannot bring themselves to use my name. As if calling me Kay would wither their tongues.
Monika: Your memoir is called a story of identity, loss, courage and self-discovery. If you had to choose just one of those words as the heart of your journey, which would it be, and why?
Kay: Sadly I think loss is the key to the whole story. Losing Julia was the catalyst to force me to confront how I needed to continue the rest of my life. It was that event that made me face the fact that the person I was was a charade. My life was about other people. Had Julia outlived me I may well have died thinking ‘I wish…’
Monika: And finally, now that you have written the book, lived openly as Kay and arrived at this chapter of your life, what comes next? What dreams, adventures or little everyday pleasures are still waiting for you?
Kay: I’m happy and fulfilled living as Kay, but as I have said here and in my book there is still one hurdle to clear. My granddaughters, who I worship, have always called me Da. I hope soon the day will come when they can take Kay’s hand and say ‘Come on, Da, lets go!’
END OF PART 2
All photos: courtesy of Kay Kirkman.
© 2026 - Monika Kowalska
For more than sixty years, Kay Kirkman lived behind a version of herself shaped by expectation, responsibility and fear.
She built a career in mental health nursing, became a husband, father and grandfather, and shared forty years of marriage with Julia, the love of her life. Yet beneath that life was a truth Kay had carried since childhood, a persistent knowledge that the person the world saw was not the whole person within.
When Julia died, grief dismantled the barriers Kay had spent a lifetime maintaining. What followed was not a sudden reinvention, but a difficult and deeply personal journey towards accepting the identity she had always concealed.
In this candid and moving memoir, Kay reflects on childhood, marriage, parenthood, bereavement, mental health and the complicated path towards living openly as a transgender woman.
Told through a collection of memories and reflections, her story confronts loss and prejudice while also celebrating family, friendship, humour and unexpected acceptance.
Becoming Kay is not simply a story about transition. It is the story of an entire life: the roles we inherit, the identities we suppress, the people we love and the courage it can take to finally become visible.
Honest, warm and frequently funny, this is a memoir for anyone who has ever questioned who they are or wondered whether it is ever too late to live truthfully.





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