Monika: Erin never lectures the reader about identity or injustice, yet the impact is unmistakable. What do you hope readers come to understand about transgender lives, and about the legal system itself, simply by spending time inside Erin McCabe’s world?
Robyn: I’m writing books for readers who like mystery/crime books and/or legal thrillers. If I write a polemic, no one will read it. So, to steal the title of a song, I have to give the reader a spoonful of sugar, give them what they want, which hopefully disguises the medicine that I’m also giving them.
What I hoped to do through Erin was put a human face (albeit a fictional one) on the issues trans people face in just trying to live our lives. So many people simply don’t know anyone who’s trans, so I wanted people to see Erin as a human being, just trying to live her best life possible.
It always strikes me as odd that anyone would care whether or not I’m trans. Other than my family, who by the way are fine with it, the fact that I’m trans doesn’t impact anyone else’s life at all. Why would some stranger care if I went through life as a man or a woman? It just makes no sense to me that people get angry about it.
So, my hope was that if I could just have people see Erin as a woman, readers, especially those who may not know someone who’s trans, might realize that Erin being trans doesn’t impact how they feel about her at all.
As for the legal system, I want people to see that it’s not perfect. It’s a flawed system because humans are flawed. I’m not suggesting I have a better alternative, but people need to understand that money, power, race and how you are perceived are all factors into what we call justice.
Monika: In the novels we learn that before she transitioned Erin, now divorced, was married to a woman, who she still loves. Over the course of the novels, Erin builds a romantic relationship with a cis man, Mark Simpson. Was there a specific reason that you placed Erin in a relationship with a man?
Robyn: Yes. I’m not bisexual, but I know a number of trans women who were in relationships with women before they transitioned who after they transitioned, had relationships with cis males. So I wanted to explore this shift from Erin’s perspective, but even more importantly, I wanted to explore what it’s like for a heterosexual cis man to find themselves attracted to a trans woman.
The questions it raises for them in terms of their sexual orientation, their own internal transphobia, and then the external transphobia they face from their friends and family don’t always get discussed and Mark gave me the opportunity to do that.
Monika: For many transgender professionals, the act of simply showing up can feel like a statement. Did you ever feel pressure to be “extra prepared” or “beyond reproach” in order to be taken seriously as a transgender attorney?
Robyn: I don’t think I felt a pressure to be “extra prepared,” as you phrased it. Keep in mind that by the time I transitioned, I had been practicing law for over thirty years. I think by then how I practiced and behaved as a lawyer were already baked in and transitioning didn’t impact how I prepared.
I do think that from an appearance standpoint, I certainly thought a lot more about how I looked. The days of going to the closet and pulling out one of a dozen white shirts, a tie and a navy suit were over. Now I’m much more conscious of how I look.
I’m not sure how much of it is a “woman” thing, always wanting to have the right look for the moment, and how much is a trans thing, but I certainly focus much more on my appearance than I did before.
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| "It always strikes me as odd that anyone would care whether or not I’m trans." |
Robyn: One of the most pleasant surprises I had after I transitioned was how generally accepting I found the NJ legal community, both lawyers and judges, to be. At least to my face, everyone was cordial and professional.
However, I can’t say the same about clients and some lawyers who had referred cases to me before I transitioned. I lost some clients (not all) when I transitioned, and there were several lawyers who had consistently referred clients to me, who stopped sending clients my way after I transitioned.
Although no one ever looked me in the face and said we don’t want a trans person as a lawyer, it did get back to me that was the reason why certain clients stopped hiring me. It hurt, and it impacted my income, but after a while, my business slowly recovered.
In fact, one of the firm’s best clients, who had stopped using me, hired me several years later to handle one of their biggest cases. I’d like to think I was a decent lawyer before I transitioned, and nothing about my transition changed those skills. If anything, I think I’m a better lawyer now because I’m comfortable in my own skin.
Monika: What parts of legal culture proved most resistant to change when you transitioned, and where did you find unexpected solidarity or allyship within the profession?
Robyn: Honestly, as I mentioned, the legal community was surprisingly supportive of me. I never once had a judge give me a hard time.
In terms of unexpected solidarity, I was involved in a very contentious case when I transitioned. Of course, because I was transitioning in the middle of this litigation, I had to let everyone know what was happening.
One of the lawyers on the other side was a very experienced male attorney at a very large, conservative, prestigious law firm. When I took time off for my FFS, he sent me a handwritten letter, admiring me for what I was doing and wishing me well.
Then he closed his letter by saying that when I got back, he wasn’t going to treat me any differently and I better be prepared for a fight. It was such a wonderful letter, both kind and reaffirming that nothing about me as a lawyer had changed.
The other thing that I did after I transitioned was join the LGBTQ+ Rights Section of the NJ Bar Association, which allowed me to meet and become friends with some amazing LGBTQ+ lawyers. That shared community has been tremendously important to me.
Monika: Do you believe that being transgender can offer lawyers a distinct perspective on justice, particularly when representing clients who are marginalized, disbelieved, or presumed guilty?
Robyn: I think the short answer is yes, it can. Speaking for myself, while I’d like to think I was an empathic person before I transitioned, transitioning allowed me to experience, for the first time in my life, what it's like to face additional barriers that have nothing to do with your abilities.
That in turn really opened my eyes in a new way to the barriers that other people have experienced their entire lives and helped reshape my perspective on what justice really means, especially to those in marginalized communities.
Monika: That shift you’re describing feels less like learning something new and more like finally feeling the weight of something others have been carrying all along.
Robyn: Let me explain that a bit, and I don’t want this response to be seen as an attack on cisgender, heterosexual white males, it’s not. But anyone who thinks that heterosexual white male privilege doesn’t exist is likely a heterosexual white male.
For fifty years, I was perceived to be a heterosexual white male and I benefitted from that privilege. My oldest sister, who’s seven years older than me, wanted to go away to college. My father, who was a very decent and kind man, didn’t believe that women should go away to college (it was 1963), so he wouldn’t let her go away.
When it was my turn to go to college seven years later, I could go anywhere I wanted and, in fact, I did go away to college. Another example from my own life is that in 1986 I interviewed at the law firm where I worked for thirty years and where I eventually became the managing partner.
When I interviewed, my wife and I had an eighteen-month-old child and my wife was six months pregnant with our second child. During the interview, no one ever asked me about child care, or how I would manage being an attorney with two young children.
But I know cisgender women of my generation who were routinely asked questions like that. My point is that if you’re a person of color, an immigrant, a woman, a person with a disability, a member of the LGBTQ+ community or any other marginalized community, you will likely have a different perspective on justice from someone who has always had the benefits of privilege.
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Robyn: And I want to circle back, because if you’re a white coalminer in West Virginia barely making enough to survive, you may say there’s no such thing as white male privilege because you’ve struggled your whole life. To be clear, by heterosexual white male privilege, I’m not suggesting the world is handed to you, or your life is easy.
What I mean is that other than the challenges that life can throw at all of us, there are no additional barriers you have to overcome. Since I was perceived as male, all I had to show was that I was competent, whereas a woman would’ve had the additional childcare barrier to overcome.
But I also have to acknowledge that even as a trans woman, I’m privileged and don’t face many of the barriers other trans folks face. I’m white. I didn’t lose my family or my career. I had the resources to pursue the medical care that I wanted and I blend in as a woman.
I think it’s important for all of us, but particularly lawyers involved in the justice system, to be mindful of our privileges when representing someone who hasn’t had the same advantages in life that we may have had.
Monika: Looking at the next generation of transgender law students and attorneys, what structural changes would you most like to see within the legal profession to make survival no longer the baseline goal?
Robyn: I’m not sure I’m in a position to give a good answer to the question. First of all, I live in NJ, where our law schools and judiciary have been on the forefront of protecting the rights of trans and nonbinary attorneys.
So, I’m not sure that my perspective from here in NJ provides an accurate picture on how things are across the country for trans law students and attorneys. I’m sure if you spoke to trans law students or attorneys in Florida or Texas, they would have a different point of view, and I suspect, decidedly less favorable.
The second factor is that I am so far removed from law school or being a newly admitted lawyer that I don’t know what the landscape is truly like for a young attorney, even here in NJ.
While I can say that the judiciary and larger law firms are generally accepting, I don’t know how that applies when you go to midsize or smaller law firms or even in more conservative parts of the state.
I think that the bottom line is that until society at large accepts trans people for who we are, all segments of society, including the legal community, are going to pose challenges for younger trans folks both in law school and as new attorneys.
Monika: So many of us navigate the roles of wives, mothers, and daughters, often carrying the weight of our pasts and sometimes longing to leave it all behind. Yet, you’ve chosen to embrace your identity with such strength, becoming an advocate for transgender rights and vocal about presenting a positive image of our community in society. In the face of all this, have you ever felt the pull of staying in the shadows, of simply being seen as a woman, without the added layers of being a transgender woman?
Robyn: I’d be lying if I said I never wished there were times when I could just be seen as a woman and not a “transgender woman.” That said, I’ve never considered staying in the shadows. In some respects, it simply wasn’t possible.
When I transitioned, I was the managing partner of a nineteen lawyer law firm. Essentially, I was the boss. Unless I was willing to walk away from that (which I wasn’t), staying hidden wasn’t an option.
But that aside, because I’ve had a privileged life, for better or worse, I have a platform. I don’t claim to speak for the transgender community. I’m only one trans person with one lived experience.
But so many in our community have no voice. They are marginalized, oppressed and ignored. There is no way for them to be heard. So, if people like me, who have been incredibly blessed, don’t raise our voices and speak out, who will?
For me, silence is not an option. I am very proud to be a trans woman. If given the chance to do it all over again and someone said, “This time around you don’t have to be trans, you can be a cis man or a cis woman,” I’d still choose being trans.
I happen to like the person I am, and who I am has, at least in part, been influenced by the fact that I’m trans. I think being trans has made me a kinder, more empathic person, and I’d never want to change that.
Monika: When you came out, did your mother embrace you as her daughter? And do you feel any connection to her in the way you look, carry yourself, or even in your style and mannerisms?
Robyn: My mom was eighty-four when I came out to her. She was a devout Catholic, who after my dad passed in 1999, went to mass every morning. Add to that mix the fact that, on her side of the family, I was the first person of my generation who was assigned male. I was her son, the lawyer. My sisters call me “the prince.” So let’s just say that, when I came out, she did not react well.
Fast forward a year and I was going to have FFS. The night before I left, we had dinner together. She said to me, “I don’t understand this. I don’t like this. I don’t want it. But you’re my child and I’ll always love you.” And she did. We had a wonderful relationship before I transitioned and we had a wonderful relationship afterwards, in some ways even better.
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| "My mom was eighty-four when I came out to her." |
As for me taking after her, I do think I look like her and I think I have her sense of humor. My mother had a quick wit. One time after I transitioned I took her to a doctor’s appointment and when she was checking in the receptionist nodded to me and said, “Oh this must be your daughter. She looks just like you.” My mother, without missing a beat, looked over her shoulder at me and with an impish grin said, “That’s funny. I always thought she looked like her father.” That was my mom. She passed in 2020 at 96, and had her wits about her to the end. I miss her every day.
I do think my mom influenced my sense of style. She was always stylishly dressed, but appropriate for her age, a very classic look. I think I emulated that. After all, I’m in a profession where it’s important to have a professional look. So, I do think I picked up things from my mom’s fashion sense.
Monika: Do you remember the first time you met a transgender woman in person? What was that experience like, and how did it make you feel?
Robyn: It’s funny, I had to think about this answer for a while. I guess my first response is, I don’t know. After all, many people met me in the first fifty-four years of my life and never knew they were meeting a transgender woman.
In fact, when I came out to my law partners, one of them said to me, “I don’t know anyone who’s transgender.” And I replied, “Sure you do. You’ve known me for the last twenty years. You just didn’t know I was transgender. Nothing about me has changed. The only thing that’s changed is what you know about me.”
But more to your question, I think the first time I met an out trans woman was in 2007. She was my therapist and if she hadn’t told me she was trans, I would never have known. I had a mix of emotions, intimidation, awe, fear, all because when I looked at her, I didn’t think it was possible for me.
Monika: The journey to being our true selves often comes with a heavy price, losing friends, family, and sometimes even our jobs. What was the hardest part of coming out for you, and how did you navigate it?
Robyn: I’ll repeat what I said earlier, I’ve been truly blessed. My mom, my siblings, my kids, we all made it through my transition together. But I didn’t escape unscathed.
Although my wife and I remain best friends and are still legally married, we separated nine months before I transitioned. She was, and is, the love of my life. Losing the romantic part of the relationship hurt. To be clear, I don’t blame her in the slightest. She had married a man, and I didn’t check that box anymore. If the roles were reversed, I’m not sure I could have handled things as well as she did.
I also lost most of my male friends, including the three guys I thought would never reject me. But in each case, I haven’t seen them since I came out to them. One in particular hurts a lot, because not only were he and I very close friends from when we met in law school, but our wives and kids were close as well. I always held out the hope that someday we’d reconcile. Unfortunately, he passed away recently and I was devastated.
END OF PART 2
All photos: courtesy of Robyn Gigl.
© 2026 - Monika Kowalska
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