{"id":5474,"date":"2020-03-06T19:13:25","date_gmt":"2020-03-06T19:13:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/chloemaryland.net\/?p=1397"},"modified":"2020-03-06T19:13:25","modified_gmt":"2020-03-06T19:13:25","slug":"not-to-be-discussed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/2020\/03\/06\/not-to-be-discussed\/","title":{"rendered":"Not to be discussed"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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The cold\nfluid ran down my shin as I lay on my back on the examination table, my foot\ndrawn back and my right knee raised. Having chilled my knee to numbness with\nthe liquid, the doctor made no effort to dry the drips. Instead he lapsed into a\npatter of small talk \u2013 something about his upcoming holiday plans for Portugal\n\u2013 as he readied the needle. His distraction drew me back to fond memories of my\none time in Lisbon, almost 40 years ago; the sharp prick of the needle entering\nmy knee interrupted those musings, but it wasn\u2019t so bad. The pain was already subsiding\nas he slapped the Band-Aid over my kneecap. \u201cSee you next Friday\u201d, he said,\nalready on his way down the vinyl tiled corridor to his next patient. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d been\nthrough this routine once before, two years earlier. Injections of some magical\ngel into my right knee, spaced out over three weeks, thereby attaining full and\nrelatively pain-free movement of my right leg. It would do for now; although I\nwas keenly aware that there would come a time when more complicated measures\nwould be needed to keep this body\u2019s aging at bay. Despite my disciplined\ndedication to staying fit and healthy, enjoying continued unfettered mobility\nwas no longer a given. I took a modicum of comfort knowing that it could all be\nmuch worse; I\u2019m approaching 70 but I\u2019m far more active and able than many\npeople my age. Hell, I\u2019m more fit than many people far younger than me \u2013 or so\nI like to think. Yet despite my relatively good fortune with my health, and the\nbenefits of all those years of being a regular at the gym, there\u2019s one painful\nreality that we cannot assuage with a visit to the clinic: getting old in\nAmerica isn\u2019t for the fainthearted.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hey, I\u2019m\ntough, resilient, and generally upbeat too. Still, finding myself balancing on\nthe precipice of \u201celderly\u201d as a single woman, and a transgender woman at that, has\ngiven me pause. Even the best cared-for bodies and minds will gradually wear\nout, although so far I\u2019ve held the worst at bay. What most occupies me now isn\u2019t\nphysical \u2013 it\u2019s how difficult it\u2019s become to push back effectively against the\ntightening encirclement of three overlapping powerful social biases: ageism,\nsexism, and transphobia. In my combat against all three, my once robust counterpunches\nnow appear more like pointless flailing; I am feeling this battle slipping away\nfrom me. Yes, I\u2019ve always known that the inexorable forces of aging will prevail\nagainst me, but succumbing to social stigma and discrimination is another thing\naltogether. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What will\nit mean for me to lose this struggle \u2013 how will I keep my spirits up, my rent\npaid, and both me and my cat fed? What would my surrender to any or all three\nof these biases mean to my own dignity and purpose? Am I deluded in clinging to\nthe notion that I have so much more to give, and do, and be in this world?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Years\nago, when I first returned home briefly after two years of what was ultimately to\nbecome fifteen years living and working in sub-Saharan Africa, I had so much to\ntalk about. Africa had changed me. My unsolicited lessons in life had sprung\nfrom seeing firsthand and all around me the juxtaposition of intense\nopportunity and grinding poverty, from the warmth and sparkle of the Kenyans I\nhad come to know, and from sensing firsthand the corrosive weight of systemic\ncorruption, exploitation, and ignorance. Africa had opened my eyes and\ntransformed my entire worldview, and I was so eager to share my perspective\nwith friends and family back home. I was quick to learn, however, that very few\nin the States really wanted to know. My life in Africa wasn\u2019t where they were\nat. I soon stopped trying to share. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Getting\nold isn\u2019t where most Americans are at either. Younger America isn\u2019t inviting\nour perspectives; economic and social survival for elderly Americans certainly isn\u2019t\nsomething the general public wants us to discuss. We have our Social Security\nand Medicare, don\u2019t we? Even if those entitlements barely keep us alive, the\nmessage isn\u2019t ambiguous. \u201cStop your complaining\u201d, say those who are burdened\nwith severe student loan debt, mortgage payments, and the cost and multiple\ndemands of young families to raise. So, wise to the knowledge that they have a good\npoint, we shut up. We\u2019ve had our chance at life; we\u2019re expected now to quietly\nfind our peace with the consequences of our lives and our past choices. We must\nplay the cards that we\u2019ve been dealt, even if we now hold only a few cards. Society\nwants us out of the spotlight, to give the next generations some space. Our\ntime is past; our turn is over. Deal with it. We\u2019re on our own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if I\nrefuse to see myself as irrelevant, as no longer worthy? What if I remain\nengaged in mind and spirit, and in body too as much as my joints will allow?\nWhat if I consider my experiences and capabilities as still being of value \u2013 perhaps\neven essential \u2013 to solving some of the challenges that we all share within our\ncurrent environment? What if I still have hopes and dreams? Spunk and grit, idealism\nand energy? I\u2019m not ready to take that step back into the shadows. Yes, I recognize\nthat it\u2019s a step whose time inevitably will come, and I do hope to meet that\ntime with grace and awareness. But not now. Not yet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

You see,\nsome of us have a little problem. It\u2019s a problem guaranteed to attract\nnegligible attention from policy makers or the public, from potential\nemployers, and from those who are immersed in the affairs, adventures,\nchallenges, and prospects of youth and middle age. But for us, our problem is\nvery real; we are failing in our efforts to solve it on our own. Such failure\nis undignified; it\u2019s best not to speak of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I\nwill speak. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

You see,\nsome of us actually want to work. We delight in work. And some of us also have\nto work. I have to work, and since it\u2019s about my survival, I guess it\u2019s\nimportant. I know; you have other pressing concerns to attend to, but\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s not\nwritten down anywhere (that would be illegal), yet I\u2019ve learned to my chagrin that\nI\u2019m no longer \u201cpositioned\u201d to apply for most jobs that are advertised \u2013 even\njobs I\u2019m imminently qualified for. The HR office at any employer, by\ncoincidence or conspiracy, has quietly come to function as an effective\ngatekeeper against resumes that are too long, graduation dates too far back,\nand publications written back in the 1980s (even if some of them are still a\ndamn good read). Unless someone well placed within an organization is acting as\nour champion and taking strong measures to get our candidacies reviewed fairly,\napplying for jobs is now nearly always a waste of time. The unwritten message\nis all too clear: applications are not welcome from men over 60, women over 50,\nor from anyone over 40 who is transgender.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Were it\nonly a waste of time, that might be countenanced. My problem is more personal.\nWhen I see a job posted that I know I would do exceptionally well at \u2013 for an\nemployer whose important mission I know would truly benefit from the deep\nresources of experience, networks, and wisdom that these years have earned me \u2013\nI get invested<\/em>. I can\u2019t resist placing myself in the picture: there I am\ndoing that job, and everyone is delighted with my performance, my sharp wit,\nand my congeniality.  And I am enjoying\ntheir engagement, and the sense of community in a vibrant workplace that embraces\ndiversity of age, race, gender, sexual orientation, and gender identity. So, I\nsit down and write my heart out \u2013 well, in a properly reserved manner. After\nall, I know how to write those cover letters. For years I\u2019ve been the one\nreading them at the other end. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still,\nmy investment is fruitless; my cover letter will go unread, and my resume will\nbe placed in the \u201cother\u201d stack (a digital stack, these days). No one will be\nmoved, or impressed, or intrigued. They won\u2019t even write back. Nothing, silence;\nthe door is closed. At my age all the doors are closing around me, and those\nwhom we have relied upon on the inside to keep those doors slightly ajar for\n\u201cthat remarkably experienced and capable applicant\u201d are rapidly leaving the\nworkforce.  Who is left to advocate for\nsomeone \u201cold\u201d like me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fair\nenough. We know that patience among those of younger generations for listening\nto the woes or more gritty interjections of elders is very limited. We confront\nall those closed and closing doors mostly on our own, wondering with increasing\nanxiety how we\u2019re supposed to pay our bills and survive into whatever our\nfutures hold for us. For those like me \u2013 and I suspect many transgender people\nof my generation \u2013 the notion of a comfortable retirement just around the\ncorner is a tantalizing yet unreachable prospect. We watch our more affluent\nbut similarly aged cohort of friends and siblings plan their cruises and move\nto their comfortable, sunny retirement villas, secure in the coverage of their\nextended-care old age insurance policies. There\u2019s nothing for us to say about\nit all, and no one to listen were we to do so. We\u2019re left to wish them well in\ntheir hard-earned retirements. God bless them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Transgender\nlives like mine are almost never characterized by such affluence and security.\nWe\u2019ve had to pay and pay for our \u201ccondition\u201d; my transition took place when all\nhealth insurance providers routinely and expressly excluded transition-related\nservices. I paid for my womanhood, in costs that drained any savings I had ever\naccumulated, and which left me indebted for years to come. My expensive new\nbody saved my life and brought me untold meaning and peace (if not a\nboyfriend), but I am still shouldering that very high price tag for that physical,\npsychological, emotional, social, and spiritual transformation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nmedical, practical, and counseling costs of a gender transition aside, transgender\nlives are also frequently marked by disruption. It\u2019s not just the big and often\nmessy splash of coming out and reconfiguring one\u2019s personal, family, bureaucratic,\nand intimate arrangements; transgender people face a nearly unscalable wall of\ndiscrimination in employment and in so many other aspects of our lives. Our\nresumes are replete with periods of \u201cconsulting\u201d, if we are even that lucky.\nFinding and keeping a job is frequently a monumental challenge in the midst of\nsuch pervasive transphobia and bias, and getting older exacerbates this challenge\nexponentially. For us, the prospect of easing into a comfortable retirement is\nthe bittersweet stuff of fantasy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With\ndoors closing, the bank balance diminishing, and the face in the mirror\nacquiring ever more wrinkles, our options are few. Often there isn\u2019t really\nanywhere or anyone to turn to. Being old and without substantial means of support\nin America is rough. Our personal narratives do not attract a caring\nreadership. Not only do old people\u2019s complaints generate little sympathy or\naction, but who among the young and middle-aged demographics want to entertain\nthe future prospect of their own aging? Who wants to think through our journeys\nto form conjectures about their own possibly dim pathway ahead?  We\u2019re therefore expected to stay quiet, to soldier\non somehow, and find a way to pay our bills and retain our dignity. How? That\u2019s\nour problem. And we\u2019ll do our best, often isolated and alone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But know\nthis much: this is really, really hard.<\/p>\n\n

This post was originally published on Blogs \u2013 Chloe Schwenke<\/a>. <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The cold fluid ran down my shin as I lay on my back on the examination table, my foot drawn back and my right knee raised. Having chilled my knee to numbness with the liquid, the doctor made no effort to dry the drips. Instead he lapsed into a patter of small talk \u2013 something \u2026 Continue reading Not to be discussed<\/span> \u2192<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":499,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1575,829,1565,1566,1576,1401,1570],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5474"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/499"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5474"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5474\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":96675,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5474\/revisions\/96675"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5474"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5474"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/radiofree.asia\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5474"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}