Becoming Jen (Part 14)

Glasgow Calling

June 2005. I had a week long conference coming up in Glasgow. It was Unisons National Delegates Conference which must be one of the biggest in the country with 3000 delegates and visitors. I decided that because my colleagues within the branch now knew about my better side then it may be possible for me to be Jenny at the conference. I can’t imagine a more progressive and inclusive event than a Trade Union Conference. I also thought it might give me an indication of what it would be like to work as a woman. The problem was, that I was registered as Xxxxx Harvey and my photo ID was as such. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to totally commit to every day. I would be in a strange city (no more strange than stoke though!), and I needed a get out clause. I contacted the Conference Office and asked them if it was possible to have a 2 sided ID badge. On one side was Xxxxx Harvey, the other Jenny Harvey, with accompanying photographs (so long as I didn’t get the photos mixed up!). This would give me the option day to day in which version would attend. I did plan to be Jenny all week, but just needed an escape clause (always the worrier). This was the first time our conference office had ever had such a request, but could not see any problems. I would have to sort out my new duplex badge when I got there.

I then needed to talk to my colleagues at the West Midland Region. The next time I was down Birmingham way I did this. I used my tried, trusted and unsubtle method of shoving a picture of me as Jenny under their noses and saying, ‘this is the real me !’ They were naturally surprised, but were all really positive. It was then that I encountered the Toilet Question!

It was by far the most asked question when I first came out. Everyone is obsessed with loos. Now of course I never consider it an issue now, but back then it was. At that time I had only taken a couple of tentative steps into the mystical realm of the Ladies Loo. In general I would either use a garage disabled toilet or just hold it in. That didn’t seem right anymore. It felt like a failure on my part. When dressed I was, to me a woman and felt I should start using the correct toilet. I also knew there was no legal or any other reason why I shouldn’t. My first venture was Tescos of course. I did wait until it was quiet and hurried straight in and straight to the cubicle. As I sat there I heard some other women at the sinks and drying their hands. I waited to they were gone before I came out. I must admit I was impressed how clean and fragrant it was compared to the wee splattered gents! It did feel good to stand at the sink and touch up my makeup and fluff my wig into shape. It was another defiantly female experience. From that moment I have always used the Ladies when dressed as such, with no real problems other than the odd look. Oh of course I now have to queue, because there are never enough Ladies Cubicles!

Anyway, by the time I was talking to my region I had been a Ladies user (what!) for a few months. One of the Regional delegates to conference, after I had told her about me, came back over and asked which toilet I would be using at conference “Just in case anyone complained”. I of course answered snappily  “The Ladies” and then  left it at that. Thinking later that day I got more miffed. I must have been the only person attending that conference that had been asked such a question. What toilet could I use dressed and attending as a woman. I have never made an issue of it, but I guess this was slightly discriminatory and I didn’t expect that of my Union.

The day to go arrived. I was nervous as could be. Of my 3 fellow delegates only one had seen me as Jenny. I just hoped they would be comfortable with me. Of course they were and made me feel welcome, and never got my name wrong all week! The second nervous flashpoint could be the train journey. I hadn’t used the train as Jen. When seated I would be captive, and at the prey of the dressed Trans girl’s mortal enemies. Drunk blokes and over curious kids, for both of whom the train carriage is a captive hunting ground. Luckily for me there was neither, however we faced a bigger challenge. The train was absolutely packed. Not just normally packed but stuffed like 2 tins of sardines squashed into 1! On top of that all the sardines had luggage. I on top of that had luggage for 2! I immediately regretted my cautious inclusion of a second male packed suitcase for that just in case day! There were cases all over the place. The forlorn sign stating “Please do not leave luggage in the passageway” almost seemed to sigh in resignation. We managed the obstacle course, with plenty of “excuse me” s and “pardon me”s and eventually “Can You Just for gods sake, Move Over”s, and settled into our reserved seats, spending the whole journey staring at the case perched on my knees.

Anyway, we got there pretty much unscathed and hotel was really nice. That first evening was to be our Regional pre conference meeting, at a bigger and posher hotel. Another nerve-wracking event for me. I knew loads of people from the region, but only a handful knew about the new improved me, (now with extra sparkle). I was going to have to walk into a large hotel conference room with over 100 people. I hadn’t really considered this properly. I couldn’t bottle it now and go in male mode after taking all this trouble. I laid all my clothes out on the bed, and chose what I thought the most subtle and feminine summer evening outfit. Hanging my clothes in the wardrobe, gave me a warm feeling to see just girls clothes. My male stuff stayed firmly in its case. A long beige linen skirt, white sleeveless top, and brown strappy flat sandals. I decided upon a plan. We would get there early, get a good seat out of the way, and I could slowly introduce myself to everyone.

Of course me and plans go together like sausages and custard (mmmm come to think of it). It was my fault of course. I relied on my legendary sense of direction to find the hotel. This of course meant we got lost, had to jump in a taxi and were consequently 15 minutes late. I walked in to a quiet hushed room with only the regional secretary speaking. The only spare seats were at the front. I made my way through, what I thought was a wave of murmurs, sat down and stared straight ahead. Not daring to turn around to see 200 eyes staring back at me. When the meeting finished it was buffet time and the hush turned to hubbub. Of course when I looked around everyone was not paying me sole attention. My insecurities meant that I did become a little self absorbed and presumed that everyone would only be concerned with me and my change (am I any different now). To be honest I think they all had much more pressing concerns.

A few of my closer friends came over with big smiles and lashings of “Can’t believe its you”s. “Why didn’t you tell me”s and “You look really good”s. I must admit the rest of the evening went really well, especially as I like talking about myself and I had plenty of eager listeners. I also got loads of makeup advice and cemented some friendships further.

The next day was the first of conference proper. I put my best flat walking shoes on, with a denim knee length skirt and a black t shirt. We soon joined the marching throng of delegates, all with matching purple lanyards with hanging ID passes. I turned mine blank side out, as I only had the Xxxxx name badge at that time. At conference desk the next they had no trouble sorting me out with my unique one person double identity pass. I was officially Unison's first 2 name 2 gendered delegate!

Now my plan was to get through the conference as quietly as I could, without drawing too much attention. Of course it was sausage/custard time again! I had chosen my first conference as the one when Transgendered members were the main issue! Let me explain. Most Unions have dedicated Self Organised Groups (SOG). Unison had a L&G SOG (Lesbian & Gay). Now most of the other Unions had moved to LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) Groups. However the year before this change had been defeated at our conference. I wont get into the why’s and wherefores, rights and wrongs of this, but suffice to say, it was disappointing. So this year, my first Jenny year, there was a concerted effort and campaign to bring about the change. Hence everywhere I looked there were delegates sporting T shirts with the slogan “YES to LGBT”. There was no way that I was going to get through the week unnoticed. So girding my loins (not sure exactly what that entails, but it sounds fun) I joined the campaign, and found myself featured in conference newsletters and joining in campaigning huddles. Everywhere I went at conference someone would come over and engage me in LGBT talk. I can’t protest, because despite all my natural tendencies, I really enjoyed the attention. This went on for the next 2 days, and to be honest I missed much of the conference debate, but have never been so involved.

When Thursday came it was rule change time. Rule changes are usually for the Union Geeks (that includes me). They need a 2 Thirds majority to get through. This was what we needed for the change to LGBT. After the last years failure, and all the campaigning we were confident, but nervous. It would send a very poor message to our Transgendered members if it failed. In the end it got through with an overwhelming majority, thanks in part to a couple of heart rending speeches from a couple of transitioned Transgendered members. I was impressed by their bravery standing and speaking on such personal issues to such a large gathering. There was a big party for the newly formed LGBT group, and despite all the urges I declined. Being a woman didn’t come naturally back then and the effort of concentration took its toll. I was exhausted.

The conference ended on the Friday. As we trundled through the lakes back south I felt satisfied and sad. I was delighted that I had got through the week totally as Jen. I now knew in my heart I could cope with the discipline and routine of getting ready as a woman every morning. I had also discovered I could go about my days with my head held high and not in the shadows. The sadness was that it was over, and next week I would be back to the tired drab old working me. I was dreading it. I could not sustain this double life for much longer.