trans be gone!

I shouldn't be here. Just because my parents paid you doesn't mean I need to talk with you, you know. -- [[Have a seat, Carlos]] [[Welcome. I'm glad you're here|Sits]] (set: $trust to 0)

(set: $trust to $trust - 1) Cassie. My friends call me Cassie. The ones I have left, I mean. -- [[Okay. We can discuss this. Please have a seat.|Sits]]

(set: $trust to $trust + 1) Well, it's not really like I have a choice, right? My mom dropped me off here and left -- where is this, anyways? Industrial parks freak me out. It's like being in a zombie movie. -- [[Why don't we talk for a moment about why you're here?|Why You're Here]]

I told you, my mom took me here and left. All my friends are at school. I've been getting these texts, you know, "Where are you?" Or I got one from V, anyway. Some of my friends have been weird. -- [[What happened at school?]]

They suspended me. -- [[Why were you suspended?]]

Ever since the fight at school, they've been making me use the bathroom in the nurse's office. Those girls were awful. Five of them yelling at me at the same time, hitting me. I didn't touch anybody! I was just sitting there on the freaking toilet trying to -- well, the school decided it was too much of a risk to the other students, and I have to use the bathroom in the nurses office from now on. Last time I went to the nurse's, I walked out kind of adjusting my sleeves, and one of the older ones -- I thought she couldn't really see any more, but she saw me and asked me to show her my forearms. The school said I couldn't come back until I started seeing a therapist. Because of the cuts. -- [[The cuts?]]

Yeah. Listen, can you talk to my guidance counselor, maybe? He looked really uncomfortable when he told me I would be suspended. (It's always the adults who are uncomfortable at my school, what the hell is that?) I have never hit anybody in my life. They hit me because I laughed, but I only laughed because Kendra was going on this ridiculous rant about her gym teacher, Mr. Anderson. What a perv. Anyways, her rant was perfect. Mean as hell, but funny! I laughed without meaning to. They heard me, and it was one of those stalls without a lock that works. It was awful.. -- [[Carlos, the school has to balance your needs with the needs of a thousand other students. I know that may be difficult to hear, but there's a way to be more comfortable and happy with yourself that doesn't involve making you, and everyone around you, more uncomfortable. Do you see what I'm getting at?|MakeOthersUncomfortable]] [[Could you tell me more about the cutting?|MoreAboutCuts]]

I've heard that before. My life doesn't seem to make it easier on anybody else, does it? [[What do you think would bring more peace and ease into your life, Carlos? Have you thought about what might be causing these issues?|CarlosFuture]]

(set: $trust += 1) It's like, sometimes this switch gets flipped. When it happens, everything gets all buzzy. My skin feels crawly. I look down at my body, but my body doesn't feel like mine. Walking into the center of town during the day is a nightmare. My parents threw out my good clothes, so boy-clothes is all I have left. I walk by the girls in town -- Kendra's friends are always hanging around, shooting me death stares -- and it just feels so impossible, you know? Like, am I the kind of girl who wears lip gloss or goes heavy with eyeliner? Or chicana-punk like my cousin out in LA? Those girls have been practicing for so long, but I'm starting from scratch, and I have so much to learn until I can even see myself in the mirror. Let alone figure out the punk thing. Passing as a woman feels a million miles away. And when I think about that, my body gets all buzzy all over again. I look down and I feel sick. I try not to think about anything, and then later, when I'm in my room, I punish myself for what a shitty job I've done so far figuring things out, getting to where I want to be. I have so little control over passing. At least I can do that. -- [[It sounds like there is a lot going on, and that you're confused by it all. We've run out of time, but why don't you take a couple of days to process and pray?|EndDay1]] [[It sounds like you are in a lot of pain.|LotOfPain]]

Whatever it is, I haven't been able to fix it. -- [[You just haven't learned the techniques by which to manage and reduce these feelings. That will take time. Speaking of which, It looks like we have run out of time today. Until next week.|EndDay1]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Dear ---, I hope you are well-rested and prepared for your first week of unsupervised sessions! (It couldn't come at a better time. Thanks to the Lord for all of the recent business, but still, it's quite a lot.) To start, I need help with an intake this week. His name is Carlos. Carlos was suspended earlier this week, and his school requested a therapist's letter before approving re-entry. His parents specifically sought out our reparative therapy services, which I have full confidence in your ability to provide. I can't be there to help, but remember: "I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible." In faith, John Paul [[Yes, come in?|Sitting down on the couch]]

(set: $trust to $trust + 1) Yeah. Well, thanks I guess for not just saying I'm confused. [[Our time's up for today. I'll see you next session. Be well.|EndDay1]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] (if: $trust < 3)[ (set: $outcome1 to "fear") Hi --, Good news! Just got a phone call from Carlos's folks. They are LOVING the job we're doing so far. Carlos came back and threw out his makeup. He told his parents it was impossible for him to pass, and he was not going to try any more. He's starting to show the seed of pragmaticism that will guide him through these turbulent waters. The parents even called the school to see if they'd consider shortening the suspension -- but no such luck. They still want direct permission from you, which means at least one more session. Carlos is apparently more quiet than normal, as he processes the affirmations and calls to strength. His mother mentions that he still wants to go by the name "Cassie," however. I think you two ought to talk about that this session. Keep up the excellent work :) Warmly, John Paul [[NEXT SESSION|NEXT WARY SESSION]] ] (if: $trust > 2)[ --, What's going on in there? Carlos's parents called. Apparently after last session, Carlos refuses to use his legal birth name. We promised the family, like we promise all families, that we would deliver effective, faith-based reparative therapy. I don't have the time or resources to micromanage you right now, but you need to deliver. Go back and reread Robert Spitzer's "ex-gay" study for a little perspective (and ignore his 2012 retraction). And please, help him rediscover the name with which he was baptized. It will be his compass through difficulty. John Paul [[NEXT SESSION]]]

You should see how happy my mom is to drop me off here. I think seeing me in the rear-view mirror is the highlight of her day. -- [[Doesn't she come back to pick you up?|Pick up]]

I take the 94 home. It's nice not to be the only brown person around. I see the other Latina women with their kids, or talking on their phones, and part of me relaxes. But the other part knows that these people would never share their seat with me if they knew who I was inside. [[Our goal is to work together to see that person clearly and with compassion, Carlos|SeeYourselfClearlyCarlos]]

I'm not Carlos. I'm not -- that. I don't know how many times I have to tell people. Micki acted like she was okay with it, but called me a fag behind my back. Julio texted it right to my face. Tranny faggot. Do you know when teens like me die, from families like mine, nobody puts the right name on their tombstone? -- [[By calling you anything other than Carlos in here, we would be doing you a disservice. As soon as you left this room, you would be dealing with a world that will reject you again and again and again. I want to brainstorm ways with you to reduce suffering, not add to it. Can you do that with me?|CarlosEqualsLessSuffering]] [[What name would you prefer, then?|Name]]

Do I have a choice? -- [[You can choose to be a functional, well-adjusted human being. It's work. But we can do that work together, Carlos.|WorkTogetherToRepressMe]]

Cassie. -- [[Why?]]

In second grade, my father took a job in rural Illinois, and for a year we lived at the end of a long street with a couple of acres in the back. Cassie lived next door. From the street, I could see her bedroom, with all of the model planes hanging down from the ceiling. We used to go play out in the woods together. The family on the other side was always shooting arrows at things, and we would go looking for the arrows they had forgotten and throw them into streams and trees. One time Cassie met me out there with her overalls and we went out looking for arrows. On the way back, we ran into a little snake. Neither of us had really seen a snake before, and when I bent down to touch it, it bit me in the hand. I screamed and Cassie screamed and we ran back to my house. My father told Cassie to leave. When she was gone, he swore about that "tomboy across the street, probably a dyke in training. Stay away from any girl who doesn't know how to be a girl," he warned me. I didn't know what a dyke was, but I understood that there was something wrong with the type of girl she was. And for the first time, I wondered about what kind of boy I was. Cassie and I had gotten along really well. With boys, I often felt strange and forced, but with Cassie I felt like equals, roaming the forest together. It never even occur to me that she was acting "boyish," because it never occurred to me that anything I did was boyish at all. I'm a girl, though I was born in a body like boys have. I realized somewhere along the line that I was a bit of a tomboy. Just like my mother and my sister. They wear makeup sometimes, but jeans almost every day. I like that. I know I'm a girl, but I like feminine things, too. I feel good when my friends call me Cassie. [[Why do you need people to call you a girl, just so you can be a tomboy? You can be as strong or sensitive as you want as a man, you know.|StrongSensitiveMan]]

I don't know why I wasn't built that way, but I wasn't built that way. Why is it my fault for being transgender and not girly all the time? Do women get their girlhoods taken away because they swear a lot and climb trees? I'm pretty sure my mom isn't a guy. -- [[Nobody has to be a perfect girl or perfect boy, you're right. But why do you think living as Cassie will make you happier?|HappierAsCassie?]] [[It sounds like you feel you "weren't built" for the life that you have -- but do you think there's more that you can learn about living as Carlos? Have you thought about learning to accept yourself as a boy? The Spirit that moves through is stronger and more resilient than we realize.|How do live as Cassie?]]

Every day I'm told to be that person, but I can't find him anywhere. I've looked. I'm starting to lose hope. -- [[My job as a mental health practitioner is to restore your ability to function in the world, Carlos. For the next step, I have to write a letter in support of you returning from suspension. To do that, I have to be confident that we are starting to manage some of your issues together and repair your internal identity issues. Are you willing to work with me, Carlos?|WorkTogetherToRepressMe]] [[Your words here worry me a bit, Carlos. Are you thinking of hurting yourself?|SELFHARM]]

When I was in second grade, I knew a Cassie. -- [[Would you tell me about her?]]

Look, you have to make me a promise. You have to ask the school to let me use the right bathroom. I didn't fight Kendra or any of those girls in the bathroom. I was just in there minding my business. You have to promise that when you write your letter to the school, you tell them I can't be sent to the nurse's bathroom every day. It's too embarrassing, like I'm a freak. -- [[There is no way I can do that]] [[That's not something I am allowed to write... but I've heard what you said. Can we keep talking about Cassie, for now? Who is Cassie?|Why Cassie?]]

Then how am I supposed to survive at my school? What do you want from me, to piss on myself? How will anybody ever see me as a girl if they spend day after day seeing me as a special exception, as an outsider, as a freak? -- [[I'm sorry. You're not a freak.|NotAFreak]] [[They won't ever see you as something you're not. Carlos, we can work together on building you a thriving, functional, well-integrated life. As a young man.|WorkTogetherToRepressMe]]

Because I know who I am. But the whole goddamn world seems to tell me much how better they know me than myself. And even when I am acting like myself and dressing like myself, my friends are telling me that I'm not the RIGHT kind of girl. Classmates are telling me to get the hell out of the bathroom. I just want to feel like I can kick it, be by myself or out in the woods and not want to die, not hate my body with every bit of me. That's what I want. [[Is that what the cutting was about? Wanting to die?|WantToDie]]

It's never worked before. If I don't have any other option, though... what do I have to do? -- [[Let me write a letter to your school, like they asked. I can tell that you are struggling with some deep confusion. We'll agree to work through those issues here at the counseling center. You will soon find yourself living the life that you were born to live. You'll find confidence as a young man, I promise. But first we need to sign this letter together.|SignAsMan]]

If I'm not a freak, then why do I need to be fixed? Why can't I be me? -- [[You are not a freak, Carlos, but you are confused. And I can help you with that, I really can. You have to trust me.|WorkTogetherToRepressMe]] [[And who is that "me," then?|Name]]

I don't want to die. But I'm afraid that I'll never stop letting the people down around me, just by being me. My sister Dee said that when I get older, I should think about living in LA near her. Dee's way older, 11 years, and so I don't remember much of what she's like. She doesn't talk much to us, but I kind of hope that's because she's cooler than Mom and Dad. Anyway, she said that last time we talked on the phone, I should look for colleges out there. So I guess if my friends all jump ship, I at least have her. But if that doesn't work out, I don't know what kind of options I have. [[We need to take things one step at a time. You are supposed to return to school from suspension. We need to come up with a plan together.|ReturnToSchoolPlan]]

Is the plan that I'm not Cassie, and I can never go by Cassie, and every time I need to pee I'll have to walk across the quad and down the stairs to get the nurse's office? And I'm supposed to be all cured and feeling positive about myself? And not want to die? -- [[The plan is what will let you return to your day-to-day life. Suspension isn't forever, and you need a practical plan. How about I draft something, and we can review it together?|ReviewItTogether]]

Yeah, okay. [[Our time is over for today, Cas.. *cough*. Um. Until next session.|End of Session 2]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] --, WHAT is going on in that room? You never offer to review disciplinary documentation with clients, let alone minors. This is between you, the parents, and the school. A young person in crisis is not adequately able to fend off unwanted sexual and gender-based thoughts alone. He's come to our center for guidance and healing. Any rapport you develop is in the service of those causes, and ultimately, in the service of Christ. Please keep in mind your training and the services we provide, and continue building bridges with this child. You need to be a light for him. The child needs Faith, without and within. John Paul [[Begin Session 3]]

Wow, my parents are really angry at you! I didn't realize that you were doing something kind of cool by going over the letter with me. [[Okay Cassie, today I would like to go over the suspension response letter with you an..|SuspensionResponse]]

Hold on, Cassie? You used my name? [[Yes. Look, there is no easy way for me to advocate for you in this situation. Our state does not protect students who change their assigned gender -- the bathroom situation is going to stay the same. The school can act however they like. They have requested that I clear you for mental health issues. I still have more to learn about transgender issues, but I can at least do that much. |GIDNotIllness]]

You're admitting I'm trans, though? -- [[I don't want to just be another adult shouting at you to be something you're not. I looked this up -- LGBTQ kids with high levels of rejection from adults are EIGHT TIMES as likely to attempt suicide. And already, they think that 40% of all transgender people will attempt suicide.|SuicideHigh]]

Okay, Jesus. You're scaring me. I don't want that. -- [[I know you don't. But I can't fix this all for you, not immediately. I can write this letter because I believe, in all honesty, there's no illness occurring in your brain. It's still not going to say what you want it to say, but take a look.|ReadsLetter]]

Hmm. I'm not sure what to think. What happens when I return to school? -- [[I am happy to write you this letter. But what happens next, before you have direct access to therapy that... works for you, I'm not sure. I want you to reach out to Dee in California. I want you to reach out to me, too. I'll no longer be working here, but you can reach me at this number.|WhatHappensNext?]]

I don't know if that's good enough. So you're getting out of here, too? -- [[Yes. I'll send the letter directly to your school, Cassie. The next year is going to be hard. But you're strong -- you know who you are. Just promise you'll text me if you're in crisis.|Write me?]]

I don't know if I can do that. But thanks for the letter. -- [[Goodbye]]

You send the letter directly to Cassie's high school. She is cleared to return to school. John Paul fires you. You don't hear anything from Cassie in the next week... or month... or year. YOU ARE UNEMPLOYED. THE END. [[Or is it..]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: blank Hi, I guess it's been over two years since we last spoke. I'm writing you from Dee's couch in LA. She's letting me crash here while I start taking classes at the community college up the street. LA is busy, smelly, car-y, and wonderful. So much music, fashion, FILM. And so many different types of people. It turns out Dee had a really bad time growing up, too. She's cisgender and straight but she's one of the most open-minded people I've met. We're finally having the sisterhood together that we always wanted. Things are hard. Starting over fucking sucks sometimes. But I'm happy she's here. I thought about writing you many times. When I came back to school, nobody around me was much different. The school still had the same shitty rules. But I didn't let up, especially about my name -- and some of my friends actually stood by me. I thought I had lost everyone, but a few had my back, and I even made a few more friends. But we all lost V. I thought maybe you would have seen in the papers last summer. None of us realized he was transgender. We knew his boyfriend was a total prick, and made V feel like garbage, and we wanted him to leave him so badly. But we didn't know how unsafe he felt everywhere in her life, every last place. He committed suicide over a year ago. It hurts. I'm still not sure what to say to you after all these years -- it's not that I'm not grateful. But at the same time, you're part of a system that gave me so little, and gave V nothing. Why him, and not me? Why are the other trans women of color attacked and killed in the streets, and not me? It's just a dice roll. There's a girl, Leelah Alcorn, who we've lost recently too. I want you to do more than just listen to my childhood stories of suffering. I want you to MAKE this world better with me. That means gender reparative therapists like your old employer need to be ILLEGAL. It means we need to tell all trans kids they are loved and whole, EVEN BEFORE THEY PASS. We need to keep our eyes out, we need to do better. Please, do this for me. peace, Cassie

Okay. Well, this is my goodbye I guess. Goodbye. -- [[Goodbye, Carlos.]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: "I have my son again" ... is what Carlos's father just told me over the phone, after booking out for 10 counseling sessions. You have done a STANDOUT job, ---! You have a future here, to be sure. -- [[DELETE THE E-MAIL. Something still doesn't feel good about the way Carlos left..|DeleteTheEmail]]

A week passes. You wake up on a Friday morning with no clients scheduled, so you can take your time at home. You pour coffee into the french press and bring the whole thing up to your office, along with a copy of the town paper. You feel a little strange as you sip the coffee. Something caught your eye in the paper, and you reach to read it. But before you can, you get a text. It's from your daughter, Sasha. "School is really weird today. Heard 'Carlos passed away' on the loudspeaker. A 12th grader. Some kid V screaming in the hall 'THAT'S CASSIE THAT'S CASSIE THAT'S CASSIE THAT'S CASSIE'" Another text: "I don't understand. [[Can you help me?|Introintro]]"

.. -- [[Carlos, would you mind sharing what you're feeling?]]

.. -- [[It seems like you're upset. This is a confusing time for you, I understand that. But I need to make sure you're safe right now. You're going to be okay.|WillYouBeOkay?]] [[Okay. You don't have talk if you don't want to.|Don't Talk]]

.. -- [[..]]

.... -- [[....]]

You don't understand me. My mom, my dad, my school. Do you know what it's like to be invisible in your own skin? I do have V, though. -- [[What makes V special?]]

She just gets it. From back in middle school, she got it even then. V always calls me Cassie. -- [[Why the name Cassie?|Why?]]

How am I going to be okay!? Can you tell me that? Can you tell me how I'm supposed to live in this world? I should just die. I'd like that. -- [[Carlos, I understand that you are in pain. But if this is a question of you being actively suicidal, I need to know right now. Would you say you have a plan?|AreyYouActive?]]

I don't know how I'm supposed to -- I can't. Can you just fucking tell me what I'm supposed to do? Can you just show me a way to die already? Yes my plan is not to stick around long, not like this. My plan is to be over. -- [[I'm going to need to call your parents in...]]

When the parents arrive, you explain that because Carlos is actively suicidal and expressed having a "plan," he needs immediate hospitalization in an area adolescent inpatient facility. The mom cries. The dad asks about insurance. Carlos doesn't say anything. "You just saved a life," John Paul tells you in the hall that evening. When Carlos is released two weeks later, you get a voicemail from his new psychiatrist -- he's on anti-psychotics for mood stabilizers. The psychiatrist tells you he will be providing both medication and therapy from now on -- it's more convenient that way. He hangs up, and you don't hear anything else about Carlos. YOU SAVED A LIFE. THE END. [[.. or is it?]]

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: blank I wasn't sure if I would ever write you, but here I am. Sometimes people write letters to their elementary school teachers telling them hello, and this is how I turned out, and thanks. I'm writing you to say FUCK YOU. Yes, you. I'm not sure if you remember me (do you remember my face? Do you remember a "boy who wanted to be Cassie?" Or just Carlos?) The last two years of medication hasn't helped my memory much, either. Inpatient was my own personal hell. I don't want to talk about it, other than say that when I left that place, I knew that I needed to be someone else to survive. I went back to school and tried to forget about Cassie. I took the medications. I smoked pot, and I crushed adderral. I got stronger and I got meaner. Girls seemed to like that. Eventually I moved to Seattle - I read something about mountain climbers out here. I also heard the phrase "LGBT-friendly city" and it stuck somewhere in my mind, way back there. Until I went to Capitol Hill to check out a comic store. Walking back I realized there was somebody walking by me with a gender I couldn't immediately make out. A girl on the corner was wearing a dress and a five-o-clock shadow. On the bus, more trans folks, again and again. They were around. They were showing up. The grief came immediately. The mourning, of a life that was my birthright. It took me another year to get to where I am. I see a therapist who told me that, yes, gender dysphoria is real, and that transition is the best remedy available. They even told me about Informed Consent, a model where transgender individual's experience is the basis for health care. I made friends, and they showed me a way of living that didn't feel like dying over and over again. I started building a life. But I still mourned. I mourned how pointless and unravelled my life had become. I mourned V, my ex who I treated so badly, because I knew that she.. well, I was so angry with him, and I was so angry with everyone. I mourned V most of all. You caught me at such a low moment, and you only saw what you wanted to see. If I could [[make a portal back to when we first met|Introintro]] I would travel through to kick your ass. Do you talk about preferred pronouns and passing privilege these days, or do you keep your head in the sand? Have you heard of Leelah Alcorn? I don't need a reply from you. Just think about that portal. Educate yourself. And then go fuck yourself. Forever, Cassie

I mean, living this way hurts all the time. What can I do but hurt myself more? -- [[I need to know you will be okay when you leave this session, Carlos.|WillYouBeOkay?]]