“It takes about six months to get in, because our doctors are so busy,” a woman tells us on a conference call at work. Her tone is matter of fact as she explains how the trans youth clinic functions at the hospital she works at. “The families come in and meet with a psychologist and a clinician. They talk a bit and go through some questionnaires together. Later on, when the doctors approve that everyone’s ready, they schedule a time to come back to get the hormone blocker put in.” She says this nonchalantly, normalizing their process that appears to take almost a year for the youth to begin getting treatment.

My co-worker follows up asking, “How many forms do the youth and the parents need to fill out at the beginning of this process?” “They fill out a few general forms right away,” she replies. “And then a form checking for Asperger’s, one for anxiety… Pause. One for depression, and I’m not sure if there’s something else.” As her list grows longer and longer, my co-worker’s and my eyes get bigger and our jaws drop. She’s saying that after waiting for six months to even see a doctor, parents and their transkids have to fill out hours’ worth of questionnaires to prove that the youth is trans. Then they have to get the multiple doctors to “approve” them to get the hormone blocker or hormones, which the young person probably needed two years prior to even starting this long process! What?!

My heart starts pounding, the blood in my veins pumps faster and heats up my whole body with emotion. It’s already hard enough to be a trans kid; why do they then have to go through so many extra steps before cisgender (i.e. not transgender) doctors will treat them? Imagine telling a kid with diabetes or some other medical condition they have to complete all those steps before they can get treatment. It’s crazy! Where I work, we take out as many of these barriers as we can, requiring only the informed consent of the trans youth and their parents. Every month these kids have to wait is like torture as their bodies go through the wrong puberty, which creates the depression and anxiety these other doctors seem to be so worried about. (see Please Don’t Keep Me Waiting for more on what happens to trans kids when they’re made to wait for the medicine they need)

As my anger escalates, I subconsciously disengage from the conversation. The stress brings up fight or flight mode, and my body always chooses flight. Before checking out fully though, I remember the breathing techniques I learned from meditation practice, and concentrate on my breath. I focus internally, watching the breath come in and watching it go out. Watching it come in, and watching it go out. My heart gradually slows, and my body starts to cool down. After a few minutes, I click my ears back on and rejoin the conversation that no one knew I had left. I still feel sad about their process and a bit rejected, feeling that the true transgender experience is not being seen or reflected by this team of medical providers. But I rejoin the conversation and try to stay with them and where they’re at.

This is one of many examples where the rubber meets the road and meditation becomes a crucial part of engaging in life for me. Thich Nhat Hanh says, “Meditation is not an escape from society. Meditation is to equip oneself with the capacity to reintegrate into society.” What is it to deal with transphobia on a regular basis without losing myself in it? What is it to forgive people for their lack of understanding about gender? And ultimately, what is it to forgive myself for my own lack of understanding about other identities and viewpoints? I don’t know yet, but I’m hoping to learn…