RUSHING
to join an intimate circle of harmonizing a
cappella singers, UW senior Thayer Fisher moves
naturally to the beat of the music he sings. He
chats enthusiastically with the singers in
Harmonic Diversions, a division of the
Seattle Lesbian and Gay Chorus, and
greets many of the members with warm hugs.
He feels at home with this group because it
was here, three years ago, that he made the
physical- and mental-identity transition that
changed his life.
“I’m not your average guy,”
says the German major quietly and with
confidence.
Thayer appears in to be a typical male
student with clean-cut hair and an easy stride,
wearing his blue jeans and a plain sweater. But
a little more than three years ago, the
men’s bathroom was foreign to him. He
didn’t begin the daily shaving ritual until
age 22, and as a teenager, he was surrounded by
a swarm of schoolgirls in uniform.
Thayer narrates his unique story of change in
a calm and clear voice — a voice that is
now able to comfortably harmonize with an
identity that has changed significantly in the
past 25 years.
Born female, Thayer — then named
Katherine — exhibited an unusual maturity
as a child. At 14 years old, she studied abroad
for a year in Japan and then Germany.
Despite her independence, something bothered
Katherine — she never felt comfortable with
the skirts and stockings she wore every day to
her private all-girls school in New Hampshire.
She desired to escape the discomforts that came
with her body. Stealing ties from her dad’s
closet, Katherine considered herself a
tomboy.
I knew I wanted to be a boy because I could
be myself,” Thayer says of his younger
self.
Katherine considered herself an androgynous
female, but later re-identified herself as a
lesbian. As a teenager, she found it difficult
to reconcile her physical appearance with her
self-perception. Because of this discomfort, she
wore large, bulky clothing in an attempt to hide
her feminine breasts. Yet she still
couldn’t pinpoint the problem.
I never understood what my conflict was until
later,” Thayer reflects.
When Katherine graduated high school, she
started at Oberlin College. During this time,
she used her middle name, Thayer, to avert a
female identity. Her time there was brief; she
studied for a year and a half and then decided
to move to Seattle. When Thayer arrived in the
spring of 1999, she joined the chorus and met
David White.
David, a female-to-male transsexual, noticed
Thayer’s physical discomfort when they
first met. His own experience in transitioning
motivated him to guide Thayer, even before
Thayer began an identity transformation.
I tried to do this myself, but had no support
group. It motivated me (to help Thayer)”,
says David.
They soon became friends, and openly
discussed David’s personal experience in
transitioning. David also introduced Thayer to a
support group to give her the information she
needed to finally make her own decision. The
realization that she was not a lesbian woman,
but a transgendered individual, led Thayer to
start living the truth that she felt.
I realized that if I didn’t physically
transition, I would always be faking it,”
explains Thayer.
In April of 2000, she made the change. Thayer
began to receive lifelong testosterone
injections at age 22. Soon after, she completed
two surgeries — one to remove her breasts
and the other to remove her reproductive
organs.
I went through puberty twice,” he says
— once as a woman, and now as a man."
The painful surgeries were only the beginning
of his physical changes. During the six to eight
months of completing the transition, Thayer had
to re-learn the basics. He taught himself how to
speak with a new voice that emerged within a
week of the testosterone injections. Later, he
learned how to shave and walk as a man.
Thayer’s family was largely supportive.
Thayer’s father feared for his son’s
safety and didn’t regularly discuss the
issue, but Thayer says his mother was his
greatest supporter. And to better understand her
son and transsexual children and their parents,
she participated in e-mail listservs for mothers
of transsexual children.
At the chorus, the reaction was unanimously
positive.
“It was unconditional acceptance,”
Thayer says.
This acceptance was something he could not
give himself before the transition. But after,
with the support of family and friends, he was
ready to approach the world with a newly found
confidence. He soon enrolled at the UW with this
new identity. Now, as a senior two years later,
Thayer doesn’t look different from other
students.
He does, however, stand out waiting in line
at the HUB for the Vagina Monologues. He is one
of the few white males engulfed in a buzzing
conversation of hundreds of women. Unlike the
handful of other men here, Thayer can personally
relate to the issues presented by this play
because he used to be a woman.
I can relate to those things because I had
them,” he says looking around at the women
whose empowerment he attends to support.
Yet, the women waiting in this line
don’t know Thayer’s past and how it
has developed his unique perspective. This is
fine with him because Thayer wants to be
identified as a student, not just as
transsexual.
A lot of times I feel invisible,” he
said. “The hormones are pretty effective.
No one ever knows.”
The
transition was so effective that his close
friends hardly remember him as a woman. The
notion of his past identity is now forgotten and
foreign. With a body that finally corresponds to
the way he perceives himself, Thayer has
released his anxieties and reservations.
Self-confidence and comfort have emerged in
their place.
I was uncomfortable with any feminine
characteristics [as a woman] because
they identified me as a woman. I didn’t
want to be identified that way,” he
explains. “When I transitioned, I allowed
more of my femininity to come out. I have the
ability to be myself.”
The transition gave Thayer a new approach to
life. His former girlfriend, Shirley Williams,
who nursed him through the transition,
appreciates his newly talkative and gregarious
character.
“He’s like a person who’s
become free from prison,” says Shirley as
she looks at Thayer standing beside her.
“He’s more outgoing, more expressive
and confident. The change is immense.”
Despite these liberations, his new identity
also brings other adjustments, fears and
apprehensions.
There’s always the assumption that
I’m a threat because I’m a male,”
Thayer says. “If I’m walking behind a
woman, she’ll quicken her pace. The
automatic reaction makes me feel pushed
away.”
Identity as a white male forces Thayer to
change his behavior. He attempts to be less
aggressive in the classroom and social settings.
He doesn’t laugh at sexist jokes because he
doesn’t want to offend women. Despite his
former discomfort when he was a woman, he misses
inclusion in the female community.
I miss [what] I belonged to,” he
said. “(As a man) I feel like I’m
being an outsider. It was this solidarity
that’s not there anymore.”
Men also occasionally raise concerns for
Thayer as a female-to-male transsexual. He dates
both men and women, but people often perceive
him as a gay man. Although it’s not a
problematic issue for him, he acknowledges that
he can receive discrimination from other
men.
I’m almost more vulnerable because
I’m a small guy. As a man, I’m viewed
as effeminate,” he says. “If I’m
approached by a bunch of big guys, I’m
going to be terrified.”
Within the numerous changes during
Thayer’s life, his mother sees a
consistency in the changing threads of her
son’s identity.
“He’s changed surprisingly little.
That’s what I keep coming back to;
he’s just the same person,” says his
mother, Ellen Fisher, visiting him from
Maine.
To Thayer, his new mindset is worth the
sacrifice and adjustments.
Feeling good about myself every day …
feeling like I fit in better,” he says,
"makes the difficulties worthwhile."
As he sits again to watch Harmonic Diversity
sing, he says his old soprano voice is what he
misses most. During the transition, he had to
teach himself to sing with the baritone that
came with his new identity. Yet he has no
regrets.
“I lost a voice, but gained a different
one.”
