LIVING OUT
Gay and Lesbian Autobiographies
The University of Wisconsin Press
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Madison, Wisconsin 53711-2059
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Copyright 2015 by Denise Chanterelle DuBois; first publication in 2017
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Printed in the United States of America
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: DuBois, Denise Chanterelle, author.
Title: Self-made woman: a memoir / Denise Chanterelle DuBois.
Other titles: Living out.
Description: Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2017. | Series: Living out: gay and lesbian autobiographies
Identifiers: LCCN 2017010425 | ISBN 9780299313906 (cloth: alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: DuBois, Denise Chanterelle. | Transgender peopleUnited StatesBiography.
Classification: LCC HQ77.8 .D795 A3 2017 | DDC 306.76/8dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017010425
ISBN-13: 978-0-299-31398-2 (electronic)
I would like to dedicate my memoir to humanity, to all of us, because in some way, I believe we are all trans. From the day we are born, to the day we die, we remain interconnected. We really do love one another, and although at times we can lose sight of that, or deny it, or turn away, we always come back to it. This fact is the essence of human existence, which has no male/female, has no gender. Yes, I believe we are all trans. In the end it comes down to embracing the other that is inside each and every one of us.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, my most appreciative thanks to my editor, Corey Sabourin. It was he who took my raw story and began to polish it like a stone until it became the beautiful gem it is today. He made this book really happen. Next is my publicist, Mary Bisbee-Beek. Her dedication to my public relations needs, strict attention to detail, and willingness to always be there for me as questions arose in the publication and marketing of my story allowed me to find a comfort level in the process that I would never have found otherwise. Mary made the book go! Early on in my writing, Carey Bettencourt was there to read passages and always encouraged me to keep writing. She taught me not to doubt myself and gave me strength. My close friend Becca Gillis, PsyD, was there for me countless times when doubts crept into my mind. On those occasions when I almost did throw in the towel, she, single-handedly, pulled me back from the precipice. Becca gave me hope. Authors Doc Macomber and Bob Wright consulted with me many times during my writing, always offering cheerful advice to keep me on a steady course and not wander off topic. Doc and Bob offered direction. John Brekke, PhD, read my finished section on Kauai, where we had become accidental friends, and afterward gave me one of the biggest hugs of my life. He emphatically stated that my book would change the way people think about what it means to be transgender in America. He has been with me ever since,always there for book talk. John gave me faith. Then there was my ninety-year-old Uncle Frank Behnke, who I spoke with almost daily about the book as things heated up and publication was becoming a reality. I depended on him as a counselor and treasured his perspective and lifetime of experience. Thank you to my close friend, civil rights attorney Lake James Perriguey. From the very beginning, he patiently read my freshly penned passages and took my weekly calls offering in return his intellect, kindness, and his warm heart. Never was there a finer person, nor a more loyal friend. Lake gave me everything.
And finally, I want to acknowledge the University of Wisconsin Press and senior executive acquisitions editor Raphael Kadushin for agreeing to publish my book. When I met with Raphael in Madison, I immediately sensed a connection. At lunch while we talked about the book, Raphael mentioned that the press had never really ever published a book like this before and that they were sort of going out on a ledge with this memoir. We were looking directly at each other when he said that, and then I knewbecause, lets face it, this book really does show the human vulnerability of all of us and really does put everyone on that ledge. It was not easy for me to write this book, and Raphael knows that. I really appreciated his candor that day and knew we had built trust between us.
And so it was in the very end that Wisconsin, my home state, my motherland, and the place where it all began, finally gave me the wisdom of truth. For that I will always be grateful.
Prologue
Finally the big day arrived and I boarded China Air for my flight to Bangkok. It was a strange flight path, over Canada with a stop in Anchorage, on to Taipei, and then to Thailand. The stopover in Anchorage was surreal. We landed in a snowstorm; it was November and even though it was only 4 p.m., outside it was already pitch black. I had a two-hour layover, so I deplaned to walk around the terminal. I was struck by how modern the airport was, but what really caught my eye were a pair of taxidermied bears, a Kodiak and a polar bear opposite one another, both standing tall. I was awed by the immense size of these beautiful creatures, their giant claws, teeth, powerful legs, thick fur, sharp eyes, and large black noses. How efficient these animals must be in the wild, I thought, saddened to find them dead inside this airport.
It couldve been the impression those bears made on me or the excitement of my pending surgery once I arrived in Bangkok that brought on an overwhelming desire to call my mother. Whatever possessed me to do this I dont know, but by the time I realized it was a mistake it was too late. She had answered the phone. I immediately felt uncomfortablewhy did I call her? I started off with small talk, eventually telling her I was in Anchorage, on my way to Bangkok. Wed had a few previous phone discussions about my upcoming gender change, none of which ever went well. Maybe, my thinking went, once she understood I was actually goingthrough with sex reassignment surgerythat her son was on the cusp of fulfilling a lifelong dream to become a womanthere would be some loving support. Exactly the opposite happened. Id played this badly and my mother pleaded with me on the phone not to go through with this and hurt myself.
Quickly, the discussion revolved around those three words. Dont hurt yourself. I listened in stunned silence, angry at her for not supporting me in something that shed had hints of my whole life and was in complete denial about. On top of feeling hurt and rejected, I felt momentarily guilty over what Id planned all these years. I was forty-nine, recently divorced, broke financially, and a recovering addict. Two tragedies in my life, an abusive father and an addiction to crystal meth, had ironically turned out to help push me, giving me the resilience to take this step. My mother still didnt understand. The call ended with the two of us as far apart as ever, but at least she knew my plans and could no longer deny my truth.