Zuerst ein paar Fakten über mich: Ich bin 29 Jahre alt, trans* und lebe seit etwas mehr als fünf Jahren als Frau. Aufgewachsen bin ich in einer Kleinstadt in Süddeutschland, wohne aber nach einigen Stationen hier und da mittlerweile in Düsseldorf. Dort arbeite ich bei einem Versicherungsunternehmen als Aktuarin und bin im LGBTIQ+ Mitarbeitenden-Netzwerk aktiv.

Als Aktuarin beschäftige ich mich viel mit Formeln und Zahlen. Ich setze mich zum Beispiel mittels mathematisch-statistischer Methoden mit der Modellierung, Bewertung und Steuerung von Risiken auseinander – bin also ziemlich rational im Job unterwegs. Gleichzeitig freue ich mich als Teil des LGBTIQ+ Netzwerks über jeden Austausch mit Menschen, um Gedanken, Gefühle und Perspektiven besser verstehen zu können, insbesondere zu Themen aus dem Bereich DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) und LGBTIQ+. Daraus können viele Ideen und Verständnis entstehen und ein gemeinsames, inklusives Miteinander wachsen. Beide Seiten der Arbeit machen mir viel Spaß!

Im Umgang mit geschlechtlicher Vielfalt am Arbeitsplatz stehen für mich folgende Fragen im Fokus:

• Schweigt man über einen wichtigen Teil der eigenen Identität oder kann man offen damit umgehen?
• Kann man ein authentisches Selbst mit der Welt, den Mitmenschen und den Personen im Arbeitsumfeld teilen?
• Wird man angenommen, wie man ist?
• Funktioniert der Arbeitsplatz als System für eine Person?
• Wird inklusiv mit Personen, Identitäten und ihren verschiedenen Bedürfnissen umgegangen?

Es geht um die Fragen: Wer bin ich? Wer möchte ich sein? Und dann auch: Kann ich diese Person am Arbeitsplatz sein? Diese Fragen sind sehr tiefgreifend. Das zu erkunden und herauszufinden war ein langer Weg für mich, der auch nie wirklich zu Ende sein wird, denke ich. Ein essenzieller Teil meines Weges waren die Menschen, die ich um mich hatte.

Sie haben manche Fragen gestellt, aber gleichzeitig oftmals keine Fragen gestellt und mein Sein sich einen Weg bahnen lassen.  Das Gefühl, wenn sich etwas richtig anfühlt, ist unglaublich erfüllend und überwältigend. Dieses Gefühl musste ich zulassen können. Mit diesen Menschen habe ich viele dieser Momente zusammen erleben dürfen: gemeinsam Sport zu machen, den eigenen Körper wahrzunehmen und eine Beziehung dazu aufzubauen, den Körper als Medium des Ausdrucks zu nutzen, zu tanzen; Kleidung, Make-Up, Musik und Kunst als Interaktion mit der Außenwelt zu sehen und zu nutzen. In ihrer Vielfalt können sie so viel ausdrücken: Freude, Freiheit, Stärke und das Gefühl, die Welt umarmen zu wollen – aber genauso Ruhe, Schwäche, Trauer und das Gefühl, sich unter einer Decke verkriechen zu wollen. All das hat eine Dynamik in sich, die mir sehr viel gegeben und mir geholfen hat, die Fragen „Wer bin ich? Und wer möchte ich sein?“ zu erkunden.

Dabei führe ich gern Gespräche auf einer sehr menschlichen Ebene, die etwas Verbindendes ist, ohne dass man sich lange kennt. Menschlichkeit zu spüren und sich zuzuhören kann viel verändern: Man wird sich besser der eigenen Perspektive bewusst und erkennt auch eigene Privilegien. Gleichzeitig erweitert man die eigene Perspektive und sieht auch die Zusammenhänge und systemischen Aspekte. Sich über Erlebnisse, Gedanken, Empfindungen, Gefühle und Wahrnehmungen auszutauschen und dabei eine Verbindung zu Menschen zu spüren, ist ein Aspekt von Vielfalt, auch geschlechtlicher Vielfalt, den ich sehr wertvoll finde.

Liebe julia, vielen Dank für YourStory!

When I came out to my single mother at the time, she didn’t know what to make of it because she was unfamiliar with same-sex partnerships. After a few attempts to explain, she simply said: “Emre, all your life you’ve known how to tell the good from the bad and always take the right path. If this way of life is right for you, then I’ll support you.” That really was one of the best moments of my life and strengthened the bond between my mother and me. Because it wasn’t always easy …

I didn’t get my A-levels, but after graduating from secondary school, I completed my intermediate school leaving certificate and then trained as a personnel services manager. While working, I completed further training to become a business administrator and thus gained admission to university. Happily, I rocked both my Bachelor of Law and my Master of Science in HR alongside my job.

I didn’t have much free time back then, but it had always been my lifelong dream to study. From my perspective at the time, I always associated studying with a privilege for people from a good family background with a corresponding financial background.

In my life, ethnic discrimination meant that I was told at school, for example, that I wouldn’t have many opportunities because of my ‘background’. Unfortunately, I also dropped out of two apprenticeships because I experienced extreme forms of classism and homophobia due to my poverty and non-binary background. Today, I work at Google, live an openly non-binary life, work as an anti-discrimination expert and have received several awards. I speak as an expert to ministries and the world’s largest corporations.

I am also a passionate soccer player. During my time in Munich, I played in Germany’s first gay soccer team and got involved in LGBTQIA+ in sport. Most recently, I founded the association ‘WeSpeakYouDonate’, which campaigns for diversity, and ‘Occtopus’. Occtopus is a company that develops children’s games to uncover prejudices and stereotypes in children and parents. I am also a content creator on LinkedIn and run my own YouTube channel ‘Emres Pink Pillow’.

Giving up was never an option for me. I kept motivating myself and just kept going.

dear emre, thank you very much for YourStory!

I don’t really know when my conscious and arduous journey to myself began. I’m not even sure if that’s the crucial point for this story. When I look back on my life today, I realize that I need and want to make a distinction between the journey towards me as a transgender woman and my life as a trans* woman. This distinction is important to me personally, because life after coming out in 2015 has shaped me as a trans* and queer person much more than anything before.

I became more and more certain that I was not the man the world saw in me and treated me as such. However I couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with these feelings. I pushed back my true identity and forced myself into the classic heteronormative patterns. I married my first wife in my mid-twenties. At that time, I was already a soldier in the German army. I was drafted in 1994 and then decided to become an officer. My life was shaped by two institutions that both saw me as a man and always expected me to be. I was good at suppressing my needs. The lack of trans* role models in society reinforced my need to actively work against my inner self. Shame and disgust towards myself were my constant companions.

I finally broke this pattern in 2015. I couldn’t go on and I didn’t want to. It wasn’t courage, it was desperation. I finally wanted to live. I wanted to be me. This step marked the beginning of the second phase. During the transition, I realized that I could be me, but that this path was also marked by obstacles and a society that was not always accepting. I wanted to be visible to other trans* people. I wanted to be a point of reference for others and I wanted to tell my story. This thought awakened an incredible amount of strength in me. I got more and more involved and slowly became an activist for trans* and queer rights – both in my workplace and outside of society.

Which attributes on me, on my body, confirm me as a woman in the perception of others and which give an indication of my non-cis nature. I am happy to have finally reached the point where I no longer need confirmation from others. For years, the feeling of not being able to exist outwardly as a woman has held me back in my identity. And my non-conformity, my visible expression as gender non-conforming, does not take away my womanhood.

I’m Anastasia, 49, colorful, loud and queer. I’m a unicorn in camouflage and I fight to the utmost for the cause I believe in. Revolution instead of evolution.

dear anastasia, thank you very much for YourStory!

I’m Duke, actually Aaron Duke, but everyone knows me as Duke. The name Aaron comes from my parents. Since I am a trans* man, I was allowed to choose my first names anew and it was important to me that my parents give me my first name again. I am 28, born in Germany and have Chinese roots.

I didn’t know what was wrong with me for a very long time. I was always different and was one of those people who tried everything to belong. When I was 14, I decided to cut off my hair, buy clothes from the boys’ section and finally be more myself. But even that was really difficult. I realized I was a man, but wondered what makes a man and what men are supposed to be like?

I got lost in a wave of toxic masculinity. Wanted to be strong, wanted to be big, wanted to be a man. Am I a man now? People misgendered me, didn’t understand what I wanted to portray, judged and ridiculed me – I just wanted to be a man.

A man does not cry, a man is not weak, a man does not put on makeup. I had many moments before my transition when I tried to wear makeup. The thought of wearing makeup or nail polish faded more and more with my transition. I am now a man and everyone sees it that way. But are only women allowed to wear makeup? Are only women allowed to wear colorful and glittery things? I have to be honest, I already feel more comfortable in my nondescript, mostly dark clothes. I probably wouldn’t feel comfortable in a dress or with fancy eye shadow. But why not? Why are only women allowed to do that? Why do I feel uncomfortable with it? Because men don’t do that? Because men are always denied that? Because we are ridiculed? Because we are then crazy and unserious?

I’m 28, on testosterone for six years. Breast and uterus removal four years ago. Arrived at my self a few years ago. And yet, my self-discovery is not over.

dear duke, thank you very much for YourStory!

There are certainly a multitude of people and events that have marked, educated, shocked and inspired me. My parents and my family are my primary role models. Fortunately, they tought me essential basics such as courage, respect and humility. They nurtured the roots on which I can grow. My parents certainly knew about my homosexuality before me, but they never asked me the question. Out of modesty, fear or respect, I don’t know. Anyway, I like to think it’s out of love. To tell the truth, I never came out because I was never hidden in the closet.

I am very lucky to have a loving and respectful family. I would like other less fortunate people to access better possibilities.

Today as Doctor of Pharmacy I work at Parexel International as project director for compassionate programs. These programs provide patients with serious or life-threatening conditions access to unapproved products when no comparable alternative treatment options exist – while ensuring patient safety and superior delivery.

Most if not all clinical trials focus on male/female behaviors against drugs for purposes of safety and efficacy and to better dose patients. Failure to collect gender identity information means that there may be certain diseases, conditions and risk factors that we are not aware of. Unfortunately, traditional study structures, the templates we use for protocols and informed consent documents, and the data we collect are often designed in ways that do not address the specific needs and demographics of the transgender community.

Our priority commitment to patients must motivate us to recruit a diverse group of patients that represent our society. Indeed, we develop methods, trainings and documents to promote and improve the enrollment of LGBT*IQ patients in clinical drug trials and compassionate programs. There is a need to educate healthcare professionals to encourage diverse patients to participate in clinical trials, including transgender and non-binary people.

DEAR mano, Thank you very much for YourStory!

Privileges, Education & Coming outs.

I struggled to sit down and write this. It often feels like I don’t have something meaningful to share, but when it comes to my coming out story, it also feels like it was just super uneventful.  It is a super privileged position unavailable to many members of our community who have to fear for their safety if they come out. I wish for all members of our LGBTQIA2S+ community to have uneventful coming outs and possibly even no need at all for coming out in the future.

When I was 15 years old, I realized I was bi. I cared more about Xena, Warrior Princess and her soulmate situation with Gabrielle than I did about whatever straight girls my age were supposed to care about. I was attracted to men and women and didn’t know at the time that the gender spectrum held many more beautiful expressions.

I’m not attracted to only one gender identity. I just didn’t know because there wasn’t a lot of queer representation back in 2003.The L Word came out in 2004, and while it hasn’t aged well and is not a great example of an intersectional approach, it changed my world at the time, as did The L Word podcast.

I told my mom very soon and it wasn’t a big deal. Mostly because she’s super tolerant, but also because it probably didn’t feel real. I’d never had a boyfriend or girlfriend when I lived at home.
But I must have been worried about her reaction because I kept my first girlfriend a secret. I like to think that this wasn’t just because of her gender but also because we met online, had not met in person as there was an ocean between us and I associated the whole situation with shame. I was 19 and  left Germany to move in with my Canadian girlfriend in Brighton, a queer hotspot in Europe. We broke up after 6 months, and I think to this day, most of my family and friends thought she was a roommate. My second relationship was with a man. No coming out needed there, everyone knew him as my boyfriend.

The queer community remained a fixture in my life. Most of my friends and housemates were queer, I had fallen in love with the art of drag and went to every show that I could. I owe a lot to the queer community; they have helped me overcome whatever was holding me back from normalizing my own queerness while I was celebrating everyone else’s. They have shown me how to accept myself, how to fight for my community, how to exist in a world that assumed everyone is straight. It was black trans* women who educated me about our community’s history and present, the privilege of being queer in Europe, in a queer city, and about the long way we have to go to eradicate discrimination for ALL the beautiful members of our community who face violence and discrimination for simply living the life they were born to live. I was an ignorant 20-year-old and have been educated by their kindness and their fights. I wish I could say that I educated myself – I did, in later years – but that initial education was done by the people most marginalized in our society, and I owe them so much. I became an activist for queer and women’s rights and continue learning to this day. Although there is still a long way to go, one of the biggest achievements of our community is this: An elder trans* woman (she allowed me to say that) said to me last year, “Finally, trans* people can have a future! When I grew up, there simply was no representation and only the threat of dying young. I didn’t know I would be happy; that simply wasn’t in the cards. Today, trans* kids can see a future; we have trans* actors and actresses, athletes, politicians, ordinary couples who are happy.” That being said, we both agree that a lot remains to be done to ensure a safe future for trans* kids and adults.

I met the woman who would become my wife in 2012. We were colleagues first and then close friends for years before our friendship turned into love. It seems to be an unwritten rule that whenever two women are colleagues, not married, and hang out, they must have an affair. At least that was the rumour at work long before we developed romantic feelings for each other. I remember when we went to the cinema, it was the hot topic at work in certain gossip circles for a whole week. Sometimes rumors got back to me about sightings of us doing suspicious things like drinking coffee and sometimes these rumors were even completely made-up.
People were talking about us being together long before we were together, so when we started dating, we didn’t tell anyone but two friends at work. We just “were.”

Same with my mom. She immediately clocked that we were together, and that was that. I just walked through the world, normalizing the fact that I had a girlfriend who then became my wife, and most people respond in kind. I’ve been privileged enough to be working at a diversity-aware company when I fell in love with her, and when I switched companies, I was in senior enough positions that people did not dare to comment anything homophobic to my face. I’m not ignorant though; I’m aware it happened behind my back. I’m aware it happens to others, and I know that homophobia still is rampant in the workplace and our society. After years of remarkable progress for queer rights (which are, fundamentally, human rights), we find ourselves confronted with a historic backlash that threatens to roll back the hard-fought gains of decades, not just in terms of legal protections but also in public perception.

There it goes. My Coming Out is not a very interesting story. In fact, a lot of what’s interesting is between the lines: about my own internalized stuff, stuff I had to unlearn, and things about which I was completely and utterly wrong. Like when I assumed my until-then 100% straight girlfriend would only treat “us” as an experiment, that she would never tell her family about us, that this new experience would shake her self-image to the point where she’d run. Or that she would have difficulty adjusting to a relationship after being single for 16 years and wouldn’t be able to make space for me. That it wouldn’t last.

We’ve been together for 100 months in July 2023, married for 4 years. She still doesn’t know how to load the dishwasher like a human being, but other than that, we’re fine.

Attacks against our community are increasing on a global scale. Merely celebrating the few rights and limited acceptance that gay, lesbian, and bisexual individuals have achieved is not enough. The TIN* community is far from experiencing the same rights and acceptance. We must continue fighting until discrimination against queer BIPOC, queer people with disabilities, LGBTQIA2S+ migrants, and especially discrimination against our trans and non-binary siblings is eradicated. We cannot settle for mere awareness and visibility. Society is aware of us; what we need is equal protection, respect, and opportunities that should be extended to everyone within our global community.

(Note: *TIN refers to the transgender, intersex, and non-binary community)

Dear aLex, Thank you very much for YourStory!

Night of REalization.

It took 47 years for my life to make any sense at all. That’s how long it took before I was able to admit to myself that something very essential had always been wrong. But it was only then that I fully understood what that was.

Since then, I understand my life, looked backwards at and lived forwards, at all!

As a child, the awareness that I was different was already there, but it was more of a background noise. As time went on, however, these experiences, encounters, and thoughts that always felt so out of place and that I couldn’t really place began to accumulate. These things ran through my life like a red thread and only in retrospect did I really understand them.

For example, the first time I had painted toenails – long before my inner outing – I didn’t think, “Oh, how nice,” but “now it finally looks right!” I wondered about this thought in the same second and didn’t really understand where it came from.

When I was about 15 years old, I was, as I see it today, very close to understanding what was going on with me. For example, I was waiting for my figure to develop in the same way as my girlfriends and wondered why it didn’t. When I look back now, it was quite clear. But at that time I couldn’t and didn’t want to dig any further…

Many years later, it came to – what I call – my “night of realization.” The night when all the puzzle pieces of my life finally fell into place. The night I then had to understand that I am a woman and always have been. That night when everything suddenly and fully made sense. On the one hand, it was simply great to finally have the explanation for everything that had moved me for decades: “Hanna, you are a woman and always have been. From the first day you were born, you have always thought, acted, and felt like a woman.” On the other hand, the realization of actually being a woman was extremely difficult to master and I oscillated back and forth between euphoria and suicidal thoughts! The topic “trans*” was in the room, but I just did not want to accept that I am also trans*.

And of course, I still had doubts, so I often said to myself, “You are crazy! You are sick! That’s why I found it very special that after my coming out there were some people who told me:

That helped me to manage these permanent doubts.

The reactions in the rest of my environment were mixed. My parents didn’t find out that their supposed son was actually a daughter, because they had already passed away before I came out. I couldn’t even begin to estimate how they would have handled it. Part of my family had the most difficulty dealing with it, and they tried to completely hide the issue. It wasn’t until years after I came out that they really started to confront the situation. Today everything is fine, but the journey was long and painful.

Simultaneously, I also had to sort out some important things for myself. My internal outing was one thing, but how should I implement it – especially at work? At the beginning, I still believed that I could keep it completely out of my everyday professional life, continue to pretend that I was a man, and only live out my true self in my free time. How naive I was back then… I then looked for a new job relatively quickly. Of course, I also applied for a job as the woman I am. It took a little while, but today I’ve been with my current employer for almost 8 years, and I took over my current position about 2 years ago.

Looking back, I realized for myself that only since I’ve been truly me, I’ve had something like a career. I always knew I was a good employee, but I could never really stand up for myself. I’ve been working openly as a woman for 8 years now, and I find it amazing how far I’ve come professionally. From night auditor to reception manager and service manager within a few weeks, then site manager with a team of 21 employees and now in my dream role.

I summarize it for myself like this: I first had to understand that I am a woman in order to be able to appear as self-confident as men usually do.

My coming out and my transition have of course not only brought changes at work, but also in the relationship with my wife. We have been together for over 27 years now and we have found that despite the changes and the turbulent time during my transition, our relationship has gained in quality and depth! Most of the people who know us from the past simply accept us for who we are and should there ever be any questions, our message is: Love knows no gender!

For a very long time I was searching for myself and at times I confused this with the search for other, material things – and I had to realize that these things did not really make me happy. I have found true happiness in myself and only since I have found myself, I know what happiness really means!

DEAr Hanna, Thank you very much for YourStory!

Long Ways.

The first time I had sex with a man, it was still forbidden – it happened in what was then West Germany. Shortly after that, rumours about a newly discovered virus began to spread. Deadly. Soon it was clear that homosexual men were particularly affected. The German magazine Der Spiegel wrote about the “Schwulen-Pest,” a translation of the term Gay Plague. We had to be cautious.

This would not have been possible without fundamental changes in our laws during the last 30 years. What seems to be nothing special today was wishful dreaming or even unthinkable back then.

It has liberated me. I came out when I moved to Berlin, quite late, at the age of 35. My life would have been different if I had been clear about who I was and how I loved earlier. I had been living with a vague idea of bisexuality far too long. Today I think this was also because at that time I could not imagine how to combine my desire to have children and my love for men.

I am very grateful to all those in my life who have encouraged me on this path and made it possible. And I am happy for everyone who clearly knows early on and I understand everyone who needs time for this. The open interaction in queer networks can help and encourage people on this way. And these networks now exist in many federal agencies, including the ministries of the Federal Government.

LGBTIQ* employees still experience discrimination in the workplace far too often. Even small talk at the coffee machine can quickly lead to an unwanted outing. Often enough, not only their well-being at work, but also their professional future depends on the reactions of their superiors and colleagues. But only those who feel at ease can deliver the best results at work. Organisations, companies and administrations can actively contribute to an inclusive corporate culture. On INQA.de you can read how networks or interest groups in companies can help to improve the situation of LGBTIQ* employees at work.

Ending discrimination requires the support of those who are not affected. Through active solidarity (allyship), companies can promote diversity in the world of work. On INQA.de you find five tips on how managers and employees can work for diversity and show: We are Allies!

DEAR ROLF, Thank you very much for YourStory!

Identity Updates.

Quite recently, a friend of mine asked me over text: “Are you non-binary?”.

I laughed in front of my phone at first because to me, it was just the most obvious thing. My pronouns were displayed everywhere, from Instagram to Linked In, I would occasionally post the non-binary meme on Instagram, have my cute “they/them” in my work signature even; overally I live a pretty open life.

I also knew that this person didn’t mean any harm, the question came from a genuine place of interest and care. Yet, it remained hilarious to me because I realised one thing: I simply forgot to come out to her and despite all the signs, she actually wasn’t sure, because to her, I appeared to be a man.
I presented like a man, therefore I was one, right? I forgot that it was important to notify people of any “updates” on your gender, sexuality, religion, etc.

I got so used to displaying my identity that I eventually obliviated the fact that it needed updates once in a while and that it wasn’t in fact, so obvious. People had known me for years as Safir, Algerian, queer, gay, ex-Muslim, cisgender, able-bodied, immigrant, low-income, etc. Because it took me so many years to come to terms with how different I was going to be from everyone else in the world, I unconsciously “fixed” my identity the way some get fixed-term contracts.

There was no prerequisite for me to reduce who I was to fit any pre-created boxes.

As a result, my answer to the text was “Yes, I am. Let’s talk about it this weekend :)”. Following this exchange, I had to think about where I was at, as a person. Was I actually Algerian? Well, of course I was, but I had also figured out by now that I identified much better with my Amazigh and African roots overall than the regular national one.

Was I queer? This was pretty certain as well. Gay? Well this needed a bit of an update actually. I first came out as bisexual when I was 18 but people back then always told me I was gay so I accepted it as my fate without questioning it. Over 10 years later, I have to be clear about it: I am not gay. I am indeed closer to omnisexuality than to anything else but also accept to be called pansexual.

What about ex-Muslim? Tough one. I negated this part of me for such a long time because it felt like the part of me society hated the most (even more than my queerness, can you believe?). I can admit now that it was part of a very needed survival strategy to distance myself from how we were perceived worldwide. I was hoping it could offer me the chance to be treated better globally. In all honesty, years have taught me that no matter how far I stood from Muslim culture (from my culture) I would always and forever suffer from islamophobia so I could as well just embrace not only said heritage but also my faith. I also now try to approach Islam from an adult, non-judgmental perspective and I have to make a confession: there is some much beauty and peace in it.

Cisgender Safir? Well, this was a blatant lie. I always knew I didn’t fall under the binary-spectrum but lied to myself and to everyone else as it was too difficult to admit that I was going to “transgress” the common idea of what gender is, that most people wouldn’t ever understand it. It was such a liberating and joyful experience to talk to one of my best friends about it the first time. Their eyes opened and broadened with an incredible warmth. I told them gender to me was a construct I struggled to understand, that I neither felt like a man, nor like a woman; that I neither felt masculine, nor feminine; that I wasn’t feeling like a 50/50 but rather like none at all. While I understand how important gender is for some and respect it; I do not want gender to define me, I feel far from it, like it is of no importance to me. Today, I would call myself agender: a person who does actually not feel like they have a gender. My best friend received the news with a smile, a hug and a simple question: “Will you go by any specific pronoun from now on?”.

What about my non-disabled body? Up to now, I still agree with that statement but who knows what is going to happen in the future? I could write further about all the other sides of my identity, but I believe that by now, you get the image. Updates to me are necessary. Not only for others but mostly for yourself. As I regularly check myself up on how I feel within, I get to have a deeper understanding of who I am as an individual and as a part of my communities. There is so much power in knowledge.

It still happens everyday: on Mondays about gender, on Wednesdays about sexuality. Most importantly, within me it changes every morning. Ever so slightly but with fluidity. Is my experience unique? Probably not. Is my experience universal, absolutely not! So should we expect anybody to live their experiences the same way we do? According to the Western ideology, it appears that everyone should come out.

Trust me, our sole experiences should never be made rules. Coming out is not obligatory. You can also live a beautiful, healthy and positive life without having to go through such intense momenta. Some of us won’t ever come out, and we shouldn’t police them. The way we embrace and empower ourselves, we should embrace and empower them in their own experiences as well.

DEAR Safir, Thank you very much for YourStory!

A new beginning.

On March 6, 2020, the most unusual journey of my life so far began. It began with an end and a beginning, and this end made my truly new beginning as a non-binary person possible in the end. On that day, the love of my life ended with the death of my relationship person. I was infinitely grateful for the 23 years that I was allowed to spend with her, despite all prophecies of doom.

A love that seemed so unusual even to us lovers in the beginning that we asked ourselves at the time, “Can our relationship really work and go well?” We decided to take the risk. My great love was and remained until her death, married to her husband and had three children, who at the beginning of our relationship, were between 6 and 13 years old. She was 12 years older than me. We lived an unusual, publicly known, patchwork rainbow family relationship for 23 years. I miss her to this day.

Today, I am actually grateful for that void her absence has left in my life. I am also thankful that the Corona Lockdown that started shortly after her funeral turned me back on myself. With the absence of external distractions, I was able to use this time for inner gathering and my refocusing. On many lonely evenings on my balcony, I began to search for answers to life questions and to define new goals.

I found more questions than answers at that time. I discovered within myself dungeons and locked doors, dark caves and buried shafts. What I lacked was light. The deeper I went, the less hope I had of finding answers on my own that could shed light on the darkness. I admitted to myself that I couldn’t answer all the questions on my own, and I enlisted professional outside travel assistance in the form of coaching.

It quickly became apparent that I had been asking myself the right questions at the wrong time. By the end of 2020, I was still far too caught up in the social norms and conventions of heteronormativity around me and in my own inner beliefs. These thoughts and conventions were blocking my path to answers.

I wanted, no I had to try something new, like when I was on vacation in Canada. Every day at that time I had opted for the classic English breakfast. The Canadian breakfast of French toast (Poor Knights), crispy bacon and maple syrup seemed too absurd a combination. Bacon and maple syrup?! A white bread soaked with egg, instead of egg on the white bread and bacon extra on top. I could not imagine this combination of sweet and salty as delicious. One morning, this meal looked so delicious at the neighboring table that I dared to order and try it too. It was a revelation and a symbiosis of opposites that, combined like this, gave me a completely new, incredible taste experience. For this experience, it was necessary to ignore old ideas and concepts (like taste experiences).

My experiential process right before my non-binary coming out was very similar, but much more intimate. This process, too, was about reconciling opposites and exploring new territory. The phrases that went through my mind before making these decisions were, on the one hand, “Do I really dare?”. What happens if it’s an absurd experience?” and on the other, “I’m so excited! I can’t wait!” I, (then still Judith – gender: female; gender identity: “butch”; sexual orientation: lesbian), boldly decided to try something completely new and unfamiliar, leaving old paths behind. With a curious beginner’s mind, I embarked on a new experience.

I was gifted with answers to questions that have accompanied me my entire adult life. „Wer bin ich?“ „Wer oder was ist meine Identität?“ „Wieso fühle ich mich stets „zwischen den Stühlen“ sitzend/stehend?“ These questions have accompanied me for many years of my life.
In this experiential moment, I let go of my preconceived thoughts about gender and gender identities and freed myself from convention and propriety.

As Jay (gender: diverse; gender identity: non-binary; sexual orientation: women loving), I felt whole and complete for the first time in my life. I realized that I now had a new name and a new gender. After 50 years, the search for my true identity ended in a truly new beginning; a new birth certificate even made this official very soon.

It was out of the question for me to make this inner transformation visible to the outside world as well. Sometimes bureaucratic mills grind fast, too. In February, I received a certificate from my family doctor, submitted an informal application for gender and name change with it to the registry office and promptly received an official appointment for the oral application.

It was on February 18, 2021, when I was handed my new birth certificate with new name and gender by the registrar of my town. I thus wrote Einbeck town history, as the first person with a diverse gender entry in the town’s birth register. I am very grateful for all the experiences, for all the people who contributed to this moment. I would like to thank all the people for their appreciation, solidarity and joy shown to me during this coming out.

DEAR Jay, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOURSTORY!