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Author: Ms Sugar Swan

OPINION: Grindr diversifies and the gay men are scared! 

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

Ms. Sugar Swan tries out the latest update from the (until recently) gay hook up app for men, Grindr.

When people ask me, “Do you miss anything from your old life?” the only answer I ever have for them is simply, “Grindr”. Now that may sound odd asking a trans woman if she misses anything that she had pre-transition and her answer is a gay male hook up app, but let me explain.

Grindr has been around since 2009, so for 8 years. Being an early adopter, I have been using that app for 6 years. That’s a long time. It has seen men fly from foreign lands to come and spend a weekend with me, it has brought beautiful people into my life, some of which became partners, it has brought me heartache and upset and caused me to cry, and eventually, as I transitioned it broke up with me as I was no longer its user demographic. That is until now!

Three days ago Grindr released the following tweet “We’re celebrating Trans Awareness Month with new features to help trans and gender non conforming [people] connect better.”

Today those new features went live and for the first time in a couple of years, I logged onto Grindr. I’ve obviously missed a few updates but the principle is the same. I started to face all the usual boring drop down boxes, weight, height, body shape, ethnicity but then it became interesting.

The next set of boxes were labeled ‘Identity’ and here you can choose from an array of genders from cis man, trans man, cis woman, trans woman, non-binary, non-conforming or it asks you if you would like to type in your own personal gender identity.

At this point I was completely blown away. Grindr has opened its doors to all of us, we are all finally welcome into one space to explore each other, no more sexual segregation, just as it should be, let us all set our search parameters to what tickles our fancy on that particular day and not be boxed in by only having part of your dating pool available to you on one app. Just as I thought my wide on was at its fullest, I came to the next box and it asked me if I wanted to use She/Her, They/Them or He/Him pronouns. Brava Grindr! Exquisite!

Now this next part is just brilliant. When somebody comes across a profile like mine, if they read it, they will see that my Gender Identity is Trans Woman and my Pronouns are She/Her. Next to these fields on my profile there is a small information button. When you select this it takes you to the ‘Gender Identity Help Centre’ which is basically an FAQ for cis people who are a bit confused by the changes. Not is it only really informative, it has the possibility, if cis people read it, to take some of the emotional labour off of trans people. It answers all the standard questions like explaining what cisgender, transgender and non-binary mean but it goes way beyond that. The FAQ’s include questions more specific to the nature of the app such as “How can I respectfully ask a trans person what they like sexually” “Is it ok to ask a trans person about surgeries” “Is it offensive to tell a trans person they don’t look trans” “Can a trans person be gay” The answers are just brilliant and I could not have written a better guide myself. Grindr have really done their research here and have been working with trans people to make sure they have got it right, and I really think they have.

As I started to use the app I had a very high uptake. 400+ messages in 12 hours. Obviously I haven’t been able to read them all but they follow a pattern. There are many confused cis gay men sending me nasty messages asking me why I am here and telling me I shouldn’t be. These only make up for about 10% of my messages so are the minority. I think most gay men can’t be bothered to insult me, or don’t feel the need to as they are secure enough not to.

Most messages are from the bisexual cis and trans men and masculine aligned enbies that already held profiles before the changes of the last few days, these messages make up about 60% of my messages, but the other 30% are from brand new profiles.

I have messages from other trans women, trans lesbians specifically (woo-hoo! – I LOVE my sisters). I have been messaged by many cis guys who state in their profile bio that they are straight and are only looking for girls (this one is really going to upset the gays!) yep! you’re actually going to have to read someones bio before you send them that cock pic they are not up for.

The messages I am receiving from the new profiles are distinctly more respectful than the ones I am receiving from the old. The way the men in the existing profiles treat me is akin to how two gay men would interact, something that feels little more than a business transaction where compliments are standardised instead of specific to you, where pictures I really don’t want to see are sent, where I am asked “What u up 2?”, where there is expressed disappointment that whilst I will send some tasteful nudes, I will not send photos of my genitalia. Where there is an expectation that I must be looking to have sex in the next hour. Now there is nothing wrong with that and if that works for you, great. Personally, it actually made me feel like I was being treated like a man and I found it quite disrespectful, especially when I am expressing that isn’t how I want to interact with you and trying to point you to the FAQ’s in how to interact with me.

I need a slightly different approach and I am very lucky that the straight men who are as new to Grindr as I am are very respectful. They are just as mesmorised by the boobs as the rest of them, but they know the best way to gain access to them is to pay me individual well thought out compliments, take time to think of things to speak about that would be of interest, go and read the FAQ’s when they bring up something inappropriate and then come back to me, and come back to me they do, enlightened and thankful that I pointed them out and they are straight in there testing out their new-found empowerment of how to flirt with me. The end result of both sets of profiles is the same, sex, it’s just one set of guys are likely to get it, and one set aren’t.

Grindr’s latest press release states that they have reviewed their website and they have removed all gendered terminology for gender neutral terminology in its readiness for having girls amongst its userbase. However, in the short time I have spent using it I have found that more work needs to be done on the app.

As amazing as all the things I have described are, there is still work to be done on the app. The built in emoji part of Grindr is hugely problematic. It’s emojis contain Ru Paul quotes and pictures of drag queens which are seen as oppressive by many trans women.

It also contains loads of emojis of men, just men, and drag queens, who are men. There is the Twink, The Bear, The Jock, etc. Where is the Nerdy girl? The Cool Girl? The butch lesbian looking trans girl with the short haircut and the tattoos? Yes, I am talking about myself. The point I am getting at is that there is no diverse representation here and that needs to be addressed.

Another problem is with some of the terminology on the app. It still asks you if you want to upgrade to “see more guys” rather than the promised gender-neutral terminology of something, I don’t know, off the top of my head, “see more profiles”. You see this stuff really isn’t hard, It’s pretty straight forward. Including everyone is something that is so so simple and so important to build bridges in our communities in a time when it is terribly torn apart.

Now I am not under any illusions that Grindr is going to become a truly inclusive dating app overnight. It may never do that. I have yet to see any profiles from cis girls, lesbian or straight which is something that I hope will pick up over time. What I am more inclined to predict is that it may become a place where everyone who falls under the Queer community is welcome and feels safe to use the app as we have a lot of romantic and sexual crossover in the LGBTQIA community. I am excited to what will happen over the coming months,

I would love it if everyone on the app stated their gender and pronouns as that makes cross-community dating a lot easier. (That feature isn’t just for me, you’re average user could state, Cis Male, He/Him). In the mean time, I am enjoying separating the wheat from the chaff and I have moved to WhatsApp (which is like 3rd base I suppose) with 2 girls and 3 guys and I am enjoying my interactions. All in the name of science, for this article, of course.

FEATURE: Transitioning with Sugar – HIV & Me

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

Ms Sugar Swan looks at her relationship with HIV as a trans woman.

Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

I’ve been HIV+ for the majority of my adult life. I was diagnosed in my early 20s shortly after the death of my mother. I didn’t take her death very well and ran away to Europe for three months where I undertook some risky sexual practice as I was in a dark depression. Most traumatically I was gang raped by four men who took it in turns to rape me multiple times which left me not only with mental scars, but physically torn.

On my return to the UK, I was diagnosed with HIV along with three other STIs that were quickly eliminated through modern medicine. Given my experience and the trauma to my anus, my diagnosis was inevitable.

As I approach 40 I can honestly say that HIV in relation to my health isn’t something that I think all that much about, if at all. I’m very lucky that I was diagnosed early before the virus had a chance to damage my immune system and I’ve responded extremely well to HAART. Thanks to religiously regular testing we can pinpoint my diagnosis to the three-month period that I was out of the UK.

Nowadays it’s seen as best practice to get newly diagnosed HIV+ people started on HAART quickly after diagnosis for a few reasons. One being to protect the person’s immune system and another that bringing a HIV+ person down to an undetectable viral load makes them one of the safest people a HIV- person can have sex with, as having an undetectable viral load is statistically a safer way of preventing the spread of HIV than condoms.

Having an undetectable viral load means that HIV cannot be passed by seminal or vaginal fluid. Yes that’s right, I’ll say it again for those who are hard of understanding – having an undetectable viral load means that HIV cannot be passed by seminal or vaginal fluid. Got it? Good. Let’s move on.

Post-diagnosis, in the days when it wasn’t best practice to put people on HAART immediately, I was monitored every six months and never saw a fall in my CD4 count or a climb in my viral load.

I was one of the lucky ones that coexisted with HIV without it bringing secondary infections to my body. When a new medical trial came out, although I wasn’t seen as needing HAART at the time, I was asked if I’d be prepared to take part in the trial of a new drug regime.

Being the kind of person that I am, and thinking of my mother’s death and the people before her who trailed the cancer treatments that afforded her some extra years, I thought that if I tried something experimental it could help those in the future. I signed up to the trial without hesitation.

Some 10 years later and I’m happy to report that after the initial two-year trial I’m still on that same combination of drugs and I’ve been undetectable since I started. I’ve a super high CD4 count of over 1,000 (greater than many a HIV- person). It warms my heart when a newly diagnosed person turns to me for support around medication and its side effects and I ask what combination of HAART they’ve been recommended and they report it’s the same regime that I was a guinea pig for, that works so well for me and that I still adhere to.

I’ve a very healthy immune system and HIV hasn’t held me back from doing anything. From a medical point of view I’m one of the HIV success stories. Unfortunately from a social point of view, especially as a trans woman, the same cannot be said.

Pre-transition, living in Brighton, and being viewed as an MSM (men that have sex with men), I found living with HIV pretty easy. There was very little stigma. MSM in Brighton are pretty clued up about HIV in my experience and disclosure of one’s status, whilst sometimes leading to sexual rejection, was fairly simple.

There’s a large community of MSM with HIV in Brighton and finding people to talk to, confide in, make friendships, have intimacy and relationships with, was pretty straight forward. There’s always been a huge push on education around HIV within the MSM community which I’ve been part of while working in THT’s Ship Street offices for many years seeing clients one to one to help them navigate the world.

It’s impossible to go for a drink in a gay venue without being educated with posters everywhere and free condoms and lube. There’s a lot of education on PeP and PrEP and freely available information on support groups and networks. The message is loud and clear, it’s getting through and that’s great. Living as an out and proud positive MSM was achievable.

However, things haven’t been the same since transition. I’ve felt like I’ve been forced back into the HIV closet and that’s somewhere I stayed in early transition. Living as a trans woman, in my opinion, carries a lot more stigma than living as a HIV+ MSM.

Living as a trans woman with HIV feels like you may as well just give up! Awareness is next to non-existent. Dating is a whole new minefield and people are completely shocked that I’m positive. Sexual rejection rates are much higher, which leaves me asking why?

I believe the answer is education. Sexual health awareness isn’t as highly publicised in other communities as within MSM. This means I’m left to educate people myself and after giving them trans 101, giving them STI and HIV 101, that is, to those who hang round long enough to listen, I’m spent.

I realised that there was a huge gap in education which led me to think that the sexual health needs of HIV+ trans women were not being met. This in turn lead me to Professor Rusi Jaspal who is working on The EXTRA Study (EXperiences of TRAns women living with HIV) and it’s the first UK study to explore HIV+ trans women’s experiences of living with HIV.

I was interviewed by Prof Jaspal for this study and he’s working to address the gap in knowledge around HIV in trans communities. Global studies suggest that trans women are at higher risk of HIV infection than other groups in society (up to 49% more likely); however, there’s no UK data at present.

It’s suspected that stigma around both HIV and being trans and worries of interactions between HAART and HRT, are keeping trans women away from coming forward and being tested.

I felt honoured to have taken part in this most valuable ongoing research. Having been a service user of the Claude Nicol Centre and Lawson Unit since 2002, it wasn’t long into transition that I was made aware of ClinicT.

ClinicT, a sexual health service for trans people, is run by Dr Kate Nambiar, Clinical Research Fellow & Speciality Doctor in Sexual Health and HIV Medicine. I find ClinicT a great resource – for me it’s a one stop shop where I can have my HIV and HRT blood levels checked at the same time as having a sexual health screen.

I asked Dr Nambiar about the service offered at ClinicT and she told me; “I was really glad to be able to start ClinicT. From a personal point of view, as a trans woman, I had spent a lot of my life running away and hiding from being trans. I think it was a personal revelation to be in a position where I could give something back and use not just my knowledge as a doctor but also my experience living as a trans woman.” 

Dr Nambiar’s words resonate with me as running and hiding from being trans and now being in a position to give back, using my experience as a trans woman, is something that we both put into our work.

It’s my hope that by coming forward, outing myself so publicly and speaking of my experiences as a trans woman living with HIV, that I’ll bring other trans positive people out to talk about this, to take part in Prof Jaspal’s study, to go to ClinicT to get screened and ask for the help they need to navigate both sexual health and trans specific healthcare services. Failing that, just contact me and we can go for a cup of tea and share our experiences.

I look forward to seeing you at the WAD vigil at the AIDS Memorial on New Steine, Friday Dec 1 at 6pm!

FEATURE: Transitioning with Sugar – I love men, what can I do? asks Sugar Swan

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

As Eartha Kitt sang during the disco revival of her career in the 1984 title track, ‘I love men, what can I do? I love men, they’re no good for you’. Never have song lyrics felt more relatable right now.

Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

Pre-transition I was never the ‘gay man’ that I was often perceived as and regular readers of this page will know that I have identified as bisexual since my earliest sexual experiences.

I understand that my presentation, clothing choices, femininity and other traits that should not have, but still did, lead people to assume ones sexuality would often lead to the assumption that I was a gay man. Mix that assumption with the company I kept, the gay bars I worked and frequented, the gay holiday destinations and, yeah, the fact that my endocrine system was running on testosterone leading to a high sex drive and sex with men being very freely available, I came across as pretty damn gay. Even though I reminded people that I was actually bi, I don’t think they ever really believed me.

Once I transitioned, my sexuality was once again assumed. People assumed that I was now a heterosexual woman so it came as a surprise to many when, six months into transition, I came out as lesbian. This made perfect sense to me but seemed to confuse so many others. It wasn’t that my lifelong sexual and romantic attraction to men had vanished since transitioning and being on hormones, but something had definitely changed.

Since moving through the world as a woman, I was now subject to all the usual problems that women face including misogyny, sexism and, specifically to trans women, transmisogyny.

Coping with the general transphobia that exists within society is hard enough. Walking out your front door as a trans woman and going about your day being visibly trans is difficult. Some people are kind, I receive compliments on my make up, my nails, my clothing choices, and I am commended for being myself by complete strangers most days, but these are the exceptions to the way I’m treated.

In fact, it’s the very opposite which is the norm. The compliments I get are unfortunately far outweighed by the challenges I face on a day-to-day basis. My main oppressor in all of this? Men. There’s a very clear distinction between the way men and women have treated me since transition and I’m sad to report that the majority of my oppression comes from men.

I’m not saying that women are perfect, in last month’s Gscene column I spoke of a most unpleasant experience with a woman, but when I weigh it up, most of my negative interactions come from men. Over the course of transition these daily, constant, unrelenting negative interactions with men, whether micro aggressions, sexual assault or anything between, have built up and left me scared of men.

Having always been sexually attracted to women and finding myself increasingly petrified of men, I started identifying as lesbian. The wonderful world of the internet helped me realise I wasn’t the only one and that a lot of girls like me identified as trans lesbians so I joined some social media groups for like-minded women and I felt at home, away from the male gaze.

I no longer needed to interact with men in the capacity of looking for romance, I was able to date women, as a woman, and the male interactions I had were on my own terms, with male friends that have either supported me through my journey since pre-transition or male friends I’ve met along the way, most most notably, the awesome group of trans men and non binary AFABs that I’ve met through trans night at the sauna. I now consider them true friends and I’m so very glad to have these guys in my life. So I should be happy, right? I have women to date and men and women as friends.

Unfortunately not. Just as my pre-transition self wasn’t a gay man, I’m not a gay woman. As Eartha sang: “I love men, It’s going to last, I love men, the feeling won’t pass. I love men wherever I go, all these men they’re haunting me so”. I still have sexual feelings towards men. Sexual feelings that I wish weren’t there, as since transition I only get hurt when it comes to letting men into my life and the hurt feels much greater as a woman trusting a man with my heart than it was as a man.

Men are different to women as we all know. Males are governed to some degree by testosterone, the most potent sex drug, and women governed to a degree by oestrogen.

Pre – transition, when I had testosterone in my body, I found sex with men quite easy, almost like a transaction for goods and services. It was somewhat clinical without too much emotion involved.

As a woman whose endocrine system is dominated by oestrogen, I need something different in my sexual experiences with men. I need to be treated as the woman I am, I need to be treated more gently, with a greater level of respect, without assumption of penetrative sex on date one and with an increased level of tenderness.

Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

Being quite obviously trans, I feel that men treat me sexually like they would other men and despite the fact that I may have once run on testosterone, this is no longer the case and I need to be treated as the woman I am. I’m recovering from male heartbreak at the moment and I feel I’ve been used, but I won’t let it push me back into the lesbian closet.

I’ve identified as the acronyms L, G, B, T and Q  so far in my life and I’m currently at the point where I don’t identifying as anything, I won’t be categorised anymore as I’ve spent my life with labels that don’t quite fit.

My sexuality at the moment is governed by the way I’m treated by others. It matters not the gender of the person but very much how they treat me as a person and how they cater to my needs. I look forward to exploring my sexuality with an open mind and at some point I may even try out a dating app. Wish me luck!

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar – My Pride experience

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan
Sugar Swan
Sugar Swan

Sugar contemplates her Pride 2017 experience and asks: does society see trans women as women?

Last month I wrote about my Pride experiences over the last 20 years and how I never quite felt like I fitted in. I was always troubled with poor trans representation. I surmised by hoping that trans folk, and the less represented minorities of the LGBTQIA+ umbrella, would be better respected and represented at these events. Brighton Pride 2017 confirmed my worst fears about the current state of the Pride celebration.

On the Friday before Pride I cancelled my place in the march with a mental health group whose podcasts I’ve been a guest on. I sent messages to my closest friends telling them I probably wouldn’t attend, and spent the day in panic and upset. I was scared. Scared that I’d be ridiculed as a trans woman by the most heavily represented demographic at Pride, scared that I’d be read as a drag queen, scared that people would assume that I was a cis gay male ‘dressed up’ for Pride. Most worryingly I was scared that I’d be subjected to some form of violence or abuse. The mental health group were lovely to me and understood that my safety came first, and many a friend reassured me that I was going to be in a safe space where I would be surrounded by people who would look after me should I find myself in a difficult situation. I really felt it was important for me to be there. I can’t moan about lack of trans representation and then not turn up. It was important for me to be seen, but I was petrified of going.

I contacted the ex LGBT liaison officer for the local police (in my capacity as a friend) and they too reassured me that I would be safe, and if I were to come to any harm there would be enough people on duty to safeguard me. After a long chat with one of my dearest friends, a cis gay male who I’d be spending the day with, a friend who has often had to jump in and protect me from transphobia, I agreed that I would attend. He is, after all, one of only three people who I feel safe walking the streets with at night. I know that he will defend me and protect me should needs be. Unfortunately all my preparation was to prove fruitless and I was to be subjected to some unpleasant experiences at the easier end of the spectrum, and sexual assault at the other.

The morning of the parade arrived and we went for a beautiful breakfast in a brasserie full of people excited for the day. We got chatting to the people on the tables either side of us and I could feel the community spirit. My anxiety and worries began to wash away. We headed down to the bottom of the Old Steine where we waited around an hour for the parade/march to come (I never know what to call it these days). In that time we spoke to the people surrounding us and the community spirit I felt in the brasserie earlier was heightened. I bonded with a beautiful cis lesbian who had come down from London, and after revealing her sexual attraction towards me she took my phone number. My fears, my anxieties, my worries over safety and acceptance had all been washed away. I was filled with love and community spirit. My preconceptions were gone, and I was looking forward to the weekend.

The parade/march came past and I cheered on every single one of my friends and acquaintances who were there showing up for whichever charity or community group is close to their heart. I was bursting with pride as I saw the mental health group with whom I was supposed to march, Terrence Higgins Trust, who I’ve marched with for many years after working for them, and the trans groups, specially those championing trans youth. To say I was proud is an understatement. Let’s not discuss my feelings over the Co-op and Tesco entries.

As is tradition, once the march/parade passed we followed it to Preston Park en masse. I met a tall cis gay man wearing a 6ft Trans Pride flag as a cape. We got chatting and he told me that loads of people asked him if he was trans, but he simply said ‘No, I’m cis, I’m just showing up for trans people. We hugged and I thanked him for wearing it, and he thanked me for letting him. As we drew close to Preston Park, things began to change for me. The atmosphere was slightly different and didn’t feel so safe and welcoming. Making my way up the side of the park to the entrance someone pulled down aggressively on the hem of my dress and told me I was showing off too much leg. Before I had the chance to pull her up on this she ran ahead giggling, wearing a denim skirt as short as my dress. What made her feel entitled to call me out? Why, in a sea of men, many of whom were wearing clothing that revealed naked buttocks, was I chastised for showing my legs? Legs that were shown proportionally the same as the cis girl who felt it okay to touch me without consent? I felt guarded once more, like I did on Friday evening and the feelings of love and community that I had at the march/parade were rapidly fading. A guy came up to me with his phone and told me, “I’ve been following your arse all the way here,” and showed me close-up photos of my bum on his phone. In the queue to get into the park I got chatting to a cis lesbian couple and after a few minutes it was clear that one of them thought I was in drag. Her girlfriend corrected her, but by the time I entered the park I wanted to leave.

I made my way to the Cabaret Tent to see my dear friend, Spice, perform, and in that tent I felt safe. Fans of drag realise that I’m a woman and not a drag queen. I don’t resemble a drag queen in any way, I look like a woman, and those that know their drag can see this. I felt safe here so remained for a few hours.

“I can’t moan about lack of trans representation and then not turn up.”

As we made our way to the Trans Tent I realised attitudes towards me in the main open spaces of the park were not all positive ones. If my cis gay male friend walked hand in hand with me or by my side I was left alone, but if he walked a few paces in front of me and it wasn’t obvious that we were together then I received abuse. In the Trans Tent I found solace with my trans family and hung out there until they packed up. I was surprised with how small the Trans Tent was, and disheartened that it was in a quiet area of the park, tucked out-of-the-way. Quite invisible in comparison to the other tents. Given that trans people started the Pride movement, I’d like to have seen a larger Trans Tent, as would, I’m sure, the wonderful ally that I’d met wearing his trans flag with pride. I hope that next year the Trans Tent is on a par with the other tents, in a more visible area that has foot traffic.

Making our way over to the Main Stage to watch the two headline acts was nerve-wracking given my experiences of the day so far. We found a spot against a railing where no one could approach me from behind. I had one friend with his arm around my waist permanently, and my arm around his shoulder. This acts to stop instances of transphobia and assault as I’m seen to be ‘with’ someone, just as on my walks through the park. My other friend stood directly in front of me, dancing away, enjoying himself, but fully aware of how scared I was. Manoeuvring himself between me and anyone who walked past so they had to brush past him rather than me. As vulnerable as I felt amongst such a large group of people I felt somewhat safe knowing these guys had my back.

Over the two hours that I was there I exchanged pleasantries and cigarette lighters with the guys next to me and felt safe. I didn’t feel at risk and once again started to feel the love. I started dancing and within five minutes of letting go so tightly of my friend and inching myself away from the railings that I was glued to, to protect my bum, I was sexually assaulted. A man walked straight up to me and touched my genitals. My reflexes kicked in and I pushed him off me into my new-found lighter buddies, who, having witnessed the whole thing, moved him away from me very quickly. They made it clear to him what he had done was sexual assault.

I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable again and as hard as I tried I was unable to relax and enjoy the rest of the gig. I felt dirty and violated. I left Preston Park and walked back to town, sandwiched between my friends for security. I made it as far as the Marlborough Street Party, the place where I had planned on spending my post-Park evening. But even there, in the pub where I feel the safest, the original home of the Museum of Transology, the place where Trans Pride is centred around, I was unable to even enter the cordoned off party area. My Pride was over. I needed the safety of my home, and I was unable to leave my flat on the Sunday to partake in the Village Street Party.

I was contacted on Monday by the former police LGBT liaison officer who asked if I had a good weekend and discussed my previous fears. With a great deal of shame I explained what had happened to me. Their response was absolutely amazing. They first reassured me that it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t asking for it, I didn’t deserve it, and they guided me through the reporting process. Making it as painless for me as possible.

It’s five days on from the events of Pride Saturday and I‘m not sure how to reconcile this. I’m going to London tomorrow to the National Theatre and plan to wear the same dress I wore to Pride to rid myself of the current shame I’m harbouring from having my dress hem pulled down and then later being sexually assaulted. What I’m struggling more to reconcile is why this happened to me this weekend, and I keep asking myself why do people think it’s okay to do these things to me and would they do them to a cis woman? Would one cis woman wearing a short skirt publicly, aggressively and physically shame another for wearing a hemline the same as theirs? I very much doubt it. Would a guy following a woman taking photos of her bum then show her them? Possibly, but these were sexualised photos taken without consent. Would a cis gay man try to touch the genitals of a cis woman without consent? Possibly in some instances, but I can’t help concluding that people think they can do this to me specifically because I’m trans and not cis. I feel that a large section of society doesn’t actually think trans women are women. We are NOT something to be ridiculed, objectified, or abused.

Happy Pride.

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar – my memories of past Prides

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan
Sugar Swan: Photo Hugo Michiels
Ms Sugar Swan: Photo Hugo Michiels

Sugar Swan reflects back on her Pride experiences over the last 20 years.

My first experience of a Pride event was back in 1997, some 20 years ago. A fresh-faced 16-year-old kid, who knew she was trans but only in her wildest dreams did she think she could transition, made her way to Clapham Common for Pride London. I was absolutely terrified as I made my way there with my cis girlfriend. She was the first person who I confided in who understood my gender feelings. Following a string of disastrous teenage relationships with men, she was my first real partner. Being bisexual herself, we had a beautiful open relationship where we really did have it all. We didn’t know the word Poly at the time but we knew that we were different from other people and we embraced that.

As we got closer and closer to the event we were surrounded by more and more queer people all making their way to the park in high spirits. I couldn’t help but notice amongst the crowds that we didn’t really fit in. The crowd was mostly white, gay and male. There were very few women and even less trans and BME representation. I was happy though, I was surrounded by queer people, covered in glitter, intoxicated on love, and I felt the love, from my girlfriend and from the friends and sexual partners we met along the way.

I hark from the London home counties, in a small village between Ascot Racecourse and Windsor Castle. Schooled in the very depressing satellite town of Bracknell, consisting of council estates and office blocks, I was beaten to the ground and kicked in the stomach for being different. We were lucky to have found each other. We were very much the minority. Unfortunately that was our first and only Pride together, as she died some months later in a car accident that would shape my future.

After her death and my subsequent recovery period following the car accident I was terribly bereft and consequently pushed my gender identity deep down inside. I presented for the next 15 years as a cis gay man to most of the outside world, as that is what they read me as, and at the time I thought it was easier to live that lie than to find the strength to transition.

During the two years following her death I attended Prides in London but they were never the same. I felt like no one understood me, no one got me. That was until I was fortunate enough to find myself, at 19 years old, working in a call centre and meeting an established group of queer alternative and goth friends that included my life long friend and short time show biz partner, Spice, and my beloved companion for the rest of his life, Mouse. They both knew that I was a girl from the very beginning, I didn’t have to explain myself, they just knew, I didn’t have to hide my breasts from my first puberty.

“The crowd was mostly white, gay and male. There were very few women and even less trans and BME representation”

My Pride experiences were very different in the 20 years since that first one back in 1997. Back then I stood out. I was notably different from everyone else, but as the years went by I blended in more. By 2001 I was establishing myself on the drag circuit with Spice and we were atop open buses in the parade and performing in the cabaret tent in Preston Park and at the village street parties. Drag afforded me a certain invisibility around my gender and sexuality, or so I thought. I clearly wasn’t fooling anybody as it came as no surprise when I came out last year.

During those 20 years of moving down here and religiously being part of Pride, be that as an entertainer, a barmaid, or a spectator, I still felt out-of-place just as I did back in 1997 on Clapham Common. I always felt that I didn’t see many other people I could really relate to, people I could see myself in. The trans community was almost invisible at many of the Pride events I attended. These included events both here in Brighton, London, and across Europe.

I struggled with how whitewashed and corporate everything was and how Prides the world over seemed more about brand names and white muscled guys in speedos as the main line of advertisement. Where was the fat representation? The black people? The trans people? Lesbians? Bisexuals? The Disabled? I guess we weren’t deemed beautiful enough to represent Pride, which has led me to ask the question of late, Where is my Pride?

I still recognise that Pride events across the globe are a right of passage for many a young queer that have never been in a large group of like-minded people. It’s important for them to have that experience of love and acceptance on a mass scale. Therefore I support Pride events but believe that greater representation of the umbrella is paramount.

This is something that’s just as apparent today as it always has been. Following the worldwide debates over the inclusion of black and brown stripes to the Pride flag of the city of Philadelphia back in June, the banning of the Jewish Pride flag in the Chicago Dyke March, and most recently Pride London’s horrific cis hetero led advertising that was dutifully pulled following uproar within days of launch. These three separate Pride events this year opened up frank and honest discussions about minority representation at Pride events and whether ‘Pride’ across the globe has lost its way and has forgotten that it is supposed to be about the marginalised people, not just those who conform to the gay masses. There is an increasingly diverse LGBTQIA umbrella and we’ve been under represented for too long. It’s this new-found awareness by the masses, fuelled by the advent of social media, that brings me hope. Hope for a brighter tomorrow, where trans women, especially those of colour, are back in the forefront of the Pride movement, for that is its roots.

“The crowd was mostly white, gay and male. There were very few women and even less trans and BME representation”

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar – ‘You need to be more ladylike’

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

Those 6 words. Those 6 words that I have heard over and over again in many different guises since I began transition feed into a cis narrative in which I neither belong, nor wish to.

Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

The OED defines ‘lady’ as ‘a polite or formal way of referring to a woman’. Well, I am a woman, so therefore, I am a lady, and I am ladylike.

Of course, this is not what people mean when they tell me I should be more ‘ladylike’. What they mean is that I should modify my behaviour to fit their blinkered ideas of what it means to be a woman, and I am done modifying my behaviour to suit society. Herein lies the problem. The whole ridiculous idea that I should act more ladylike is fed to me by the same people who told me that I was too camp when I was read by society as a man. I used to be told that when I walked, I ‘minced’, now that exact same walk is read as feminine, which of course, it always was as I am female. It’s just people’s perspective that has changed, nothing else.

“For the cisnarrative to police what the trans experience should be and look like is absolutely absurd”

At the other end of the spectrum flatulence was acceptable when read as male but now frowned upon when read as female. The whole premise is a completely toxic one and I, along with everyone else in society both cis and trans, are free to express themselves as they feel fit. I will not police my characteristics to fit into peoples neat boxes and neither should anyone else. It is an outdated cisnormative narrative that tells us that men should act one way and women act another – and that is the very heart of the problem. It is acting. As children, girls and boys have historically been encouraged to ‘act’ differently to each other. Girls are told to modify their behaviour, to be quieter, to not stand out so much, whereas boys are given a free pass to act boisterously. This is unhealthy right from the start and only feeds into the gap between gender behaviour expectations.

I was raised to be a boy, but I wasn’t one. I was certainly never boisterous, noisy, loud nor bouncy and highly excited as a child. I was the opposite. I behaved naturally how the girls were told to behave. I was quiet, shy, and preferred to play quietly with the girls. This, in turn, lead to bullying which then taught me to try to ‘act’ – there’s that word again – like a boy to minimise the bullying. This acting that I had to do all my life is deeply ingrained in me and naturally became part of the complex fabric of who I am. It leads me to my current conundrum where I am by nature very feminine but I carry over some of those masculine traits I picked up to try to protect myself when young, like being loud and standing out. This confuses people as they see a very feminine woman with some very masculine traits and they somehow think that it is their place to correct my behaviour and ‘help’ me ‘act’ (I’m getting angrier every time I type it) more like a woman. I am all the woman I always have been and always will be, I have absolutely no interest in modifying my behaviour to suit other people’s ideals of what a woman is. I am a woman, a proud woman, and I am enough.

As we enter Trans Pride month I want to remind all of my trans family, men, women, non binary, genderqueer siblings that we are ALL enough. None of us have to modify our behaviour to fit what we think is expected of us. We don’t have to change the way we ‘act’, the way we walk, the way we talk, the way we dress, or have to try to fit in. All our individual gender identities and presentations within the trans umbrella are valid and none of us have to explain ourselves, not to anyone. There is a huge amount of pressure on trans people to conform to what society thinks trans is. Cis people understand us better when we transition from one gender binary to another and we, as the trans community, need to be giving a huge ‘screw you’ to that mentality. 

There is no right or wrong way to be trans, trans is who we are, not how we present. Medical transition is not for every trans person, and nor should it be. Hormonal and surgical binary transition is the goal for many and that’s great. But for those of us who, like myself, may have a different starting point or may have a different end goal are not to be shamed. Trans women do not have to wear make up or dresses and trans men do not have to take on those qualities that boys were encouraged to at school. For the cis narrative to police what the trans experience should be and look like is absolutely absurd. As we approach both Trans and Brighton Pride I ask you, The LGB cis community, not to judge us by your standards. As you start to see more of us out and about celebrating with you over the summer, remember, we are not cis like you. We are not here to be held to your beauty standards, your social norms, your upbringing. We are trans. We are beautiful. We are powerful. We are unique.

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar – Looking Forward by Ms Sugar Swan

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

Today sees me one week post op of my fourth, and hopefully last, hair transplant surgery.

Back in late February I headed to Latvia after a long search for a surgeon who would take on my hair restoration case. A tricky one due to the very advanced state of my balding. In April’s Gscene I covered the search for my surgeon and my experience of Latvia as a solo trans woman, to read online, click here:

I returned from Latvia having endured 2 days of surgery averaging 14 hours per day. 50% of my restoration complete and surgery dates booked in early May for two more days in theatre to complete the work.

As torturous as the process was and as hard as I found it to be alone and trans in an Ex-Soviet State it’s not those experiences that have stayed with me over the last 2 months and lead to a spiral in my mental ill health, causing me to isolate myself from those I love and avoid social situations. It was the actual thing that I am proactively trying to correct, my lack of hair.

Following surgery my head is swollen, painful, very delicate, takes a lot of care, and wigs are completely out of the question. Whilst pre surgery I could choose to wear a wig or not. Post op I was unable to wear one and that is completely different. Should I wish to wet shave my head and present as a bald woman, all power to me. When I am post op and have patches of hair growth, areas yet to be worked on and areas with baby hair growing I do not feel like a powerful bald woman but I am more conscious than ever of my head and troublesome hair. In the two weeks before my second trip I was able to wear a wig despite pain and itching for a few hours, but a few hours afforded me some welcome dysphoria relief.

I now feel like I am back to step 1. I am, once again, miserable for the summer ahead of me, having to stay out of the sun, covered up, without a wig, and I hate it. I hate that I wasn’t allowed to transition as a young girl before I lost my hair, I hate that nobody would help me when I was a teenager, I hate that I grew a beard that I am now slowly ridding myself of, I hate that I am 6ft 2, I hate that I am a size 10/44 foot, basically I feel as though I hate being trans.

Who would choose this life for themselves?

Being trans is so tiring. I question my ability to continue with transition. I wonder whether I should have taken what seems the easier path of suicide, opposed to the much harder path of transition. I wonder if I will ever be happy with my outward appearance. I wonder if I have the strength to make it through these next turbulent years as my body goes through transition. I wonder if I will still be a victim of suicide, but then, I remember.

I remember that I have invested many thousands of pounds into my transition already. I remember that I have just put myself through four 14 hour long operations to restore my hair, full results of which I will not see for around 2 years. I remember that I am battling the side effects of HRT and that the results of feminisation will not peak for many years. I remember that I am working towards further surgeries in 2018 and 2020.

Going through these slow processes, planning them, and seeing them through makes me realise that I am investing in my future. I actually have a future, I don’t hate being trans, and I am not going to be the victim of suicide.

I am a proud trans woman and I love the fact that I am finally able to transition. I do see a life for me in old age, I do have a plan, I plan to live. Being trans has allowed me to live, and, therefore, I love being trans. I love myself, and I am doing everything I can to make my future a long, productive, and worthwhile one. Being trans has saved my life and I try my very best to be a good advocate and activist for the cause. 

Being one week post op, I am, of course, feeling sorry for myself. I recognise all the signs of Post Operative Depression. I am sleep deprived, in horrendous pain, I can’t chew as it hurts my temples, and I am struggling to self care and remember my pills and injection regimes. Despite all this I must tell myself it is only temporary, it is another step to feeling as comfortable with my gender presentation as I do with my gender identity, and that it is all part of my bigger plan. A plan that does not include suicide. 

“I wonder if I have the strength to make it through these next turbulent years as my body goes through transition. I wonder if I will still be a victim of suicide, but then, I remember.”

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar – A scary walk down memory lane

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

Miss Sugar Swan takes a trip down memory lane to the Brighton Sauna.

The Brighton Sauna was always a mainstay in my life. When I moved to Brighton at 20, some 15 years ago, bars were open until 12, clubs until 2 and no night was complete without “finishing off”, take that as you will, in the sauna.

I loved the place, as did all my friends, we would come in droves and hang around the jacuzzi or get in the swimming pool as it was back then and as is the very nature of the place someone would catch someones eye and before you know it you would go and find some privacy, much to the amusement of our friends who would be either jealous as you went with the one they wanted, or ridicule you as you were intoxicated enough to make a fool of yourself.

As I matured through my 20’s and into my 30’s, later licensing laws came in, I got older, I went out less, my priorities became different, mobile dating apps became the rage and my usage of the sauna dwindled and it would be reserved for Prides and New Years eves but I was always fond of the place, it held so many memories of a misspent youth.

A few years before I started transition I stopped going to the sauna completely. Almost all sexual contact stopped while I worked out exactly where I was going in life. I could no longer pretend to be proud of a body I didn’t like nor want and bearing it in a venue with 100 men was something that was completely incomprehensible to me. I hated myself and how I looked and I had completely lost my sex drive and the sauna became a no go area for me.

Sugar and Jak
Sugar and Jak

Once I began to transition I learned how to love myself again. Once my endocrine system was flooded with Oestrogen and my Testosterone production stopped I started to feel myself, I started to see myself as a sexual figure once more, my breasts started to come in, as did my hips and ass and very slowly as my outer shell started to align with my gender my sex drive began to return, but this time I realised I was no longer welcome in the sauna, a place that had been part of my life for 15 years was suddenly somewhere I was no longer welcome. That is until the ever so handsome Jak came up with a plan.

Jak is a trans man who has worked at the sauna for the last 2 and a half years and is the brainchild behind a new monthly trans night. Jak’s story and his development of this monthly night for the trans community can be found in May’s edition of Gscene, who had originally asked me to go along to this event and write a review. I tried my best to make the first event and lost my nerve, and then again at the second, but by the third monthly event that was taking place last night (May 22) I had to get over my fear, so as nervous as I was in a bikini and no wig, basically down to my outer shell with no protection I headed to the Sauna.

I asked myself what the fuck I thought I was doing as I approached the sauna, but with a deep breath and with all the confidence I could muster I walked in. I was greeted by Jak’s work colleague Jamie who was expecting me. He was really polite and respectful and after establishing that I had not been to the venue for some years he gave me a tour of whats new and whats gone and while I was in the changing room Jak came in to greet me with a huge beaming smile. He took me upstairs and introduced me to everyone and I soon felt very comfortable. It felt so amazing to be in a truly safe space.

There were ‘pronoun pens’ where people could write their pronoun on themselves and notices up reminding people to be respectful of the diverse mix of people who fall under our trans umbrella.  Many Queer nights and venues try their very best to be a safe space for the community but they can’t stop people walking in the door, to get in the sauna you need to get through 2 doors and be vetted and buzzed through so it actually is a safe space for the trans community once a month and I really did feel it. I cannot put into words how nice it was to be in that space with my people, trans people. men, women, non-binary, gender queer identifying individuals varying in age from their early 20’s to 50+.

My bikini soon “fell off” and I was transported back some 15 years where I was sitting in the same Jacuzzi with a bunch of friends, laughing, joking, having serious discussions, chatting about who was venturing off the private cabins with who and noticing the subtle flirting and taking the piss out of each other as a group. It was just like it was in my 20’s, but this time something was different, this time I was being true to myself. I wasn’t pretending to be male. I was sat there, in that very same jacuzzi I had sat in so many times before, but this time I was the woman I always have been and I was surrounded by new friends who were all living their truth.

I had an absolutely amazing time last night and I am so thankful to Jak for making this happen and create this space for the community. I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who falls under the trans umbrella. Of course, it is still a club where people can have sex, but the atmosphere on trans night is different, the emphasis not being so much on sex, but on community and friendship with the option of intimacy rather than the expectation which is how it can feel when it is a space only for gay men.  There is no obligation for you to ‘lose’ your bikini as I did, you can simply sit upstairs drinking free refreshments, chat, have an all day breakfast and watch coronation street if you prefer, which is exactly what some people were doing.

My preference? Sitting in the jacuzzi flirting with one person with one eye and watching other romance develop with the other, and that is exactly where you will find me next month and then the big exciting one the month after which falls over Trans Pride.

Thank you Jak for making this happen, it is just what the Dr ordered, and trans people REALLY hate doctors.

The next date trans evening will be on Monday, June 26. Entry is £15 for a standard entry or £16 for the day pass.

You must be trans to enter (that includes all trans identities) or the guest of a trans person. If someone is a cis guest, they must arrive with whoever they’re coming with unless the sauna get a heads up beforehand by telephoning 01273 01273 689966.

The sauna does allow SOFFAs (significant others, friends, family and allies)! Some folks may have a cis partner, friend or support person that they wish to enjoy the night with. The sauna have a safer space policy which must be adhered to which is dotted about the building and we everyone is asked to make themselves familiar with it upon entry. Anyone breaking that policy will be asked to leave.

To read Jak’s piece on the sauna, click here:

OPINION: Transitioning with Sugar: Trans exclusionary feminism by Ms Sugar Swan

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

When I came out very publicly as trans, I was flooded with love and respect and within the first month of ‘being out’ half a dozen people had contacted me and come out as trans.

Sugar Swan
Sugar Swan

Some of them I knew from Brighton, some I didn’t, but they all had the same message for me: “Thank you for talking about this and normalising things and allowing me in turn to come out”. Some of these people are still yet to come out to anyone else and I’m their only confidant.

At this point I realised that there was some good that could come from my transition, not just for me, but for other trans and cis people too. I had an inner conflict about whether or not I wanted to waive my right to a private transition but had an overwhelmingly strong feeling that the more visible I was the more people I could help.

I continued to document my transition on social media and although I do keep a private side to my life, as one must for one’s sanity, I started to make my posts, especially my posts around transition public.

This of course opened the floodgates to messages of hate alongside the growing number of people who were coming to me for help. Late last year, I was asked by Gscene to write a monthly column and I knew that in doing so I could open myself up to more hatred. However, I decided that the good I could do would outweigh the bad.

Fast forward to May and I’ve been writing this column for five months and, as expected, the hate continues to pour in: from people telling me that I am mentally ill at the easier end of the spectrum, to wishes of death at the other. This isn’t helped when once highly respected feminists Germaine Greer and Fay Weldon spin their hate against trans women and try their hardest to undermine our very existence. This is something that upsets me far more than any hate coming from mostly cis gender men over the internet, it is intelligent, feminist women hating on me and trying to turn other women against me.

 This makes me feel betrayed by the gender I am, female. This rips my heart out.

Anyway, I digress. What I’m trying to focus on is the positive that being so open can bring. Since Gscene gave me this platform, along with the extra hate that it was bound to bring, the loving floodgates have opened and I’m busy connecting newly ‘out’ trans people to services and helpful doctors, pinpointing support groups and offering 1-2-1 Skype and email/message support to individuals.

Last month I went for the first two days of work on my head in Latvia. I was as open as ever about this and in turn it’s brought about something wonderful. I was approached by someone who felt empowered to have surgery and they asked me to accompany them for moral support.

I write now from a farming community village with a population of 400 in rural northern France, 160km from Paris, 40km from the Belgian border, 30km from the nearest city, and the private hospital in which they underwent surgery.

We’re staying with one of their longest-serving friends, Jo, a young widow, under 50, who has opened her home up to me and couldn’t be more welcoming. A staunch feminist, she and I have discussed feminism and especially trans feminism and the hurt I feel from the likes of Greer and Weldon.

Jo assures me: “Sugar, Weldon and Greer do not represent the ordinary feminist or even woman on the street. They come from a position of privilege, especially Weldon, who is incredibly wealthy. I stopped thinking of her as a feminist years ago. Greer is someone I once felt inspired by, but unfortunately she became intellectually petrified some decades ago”.

Jo is not trans exclusionary in her feminism and has welcomed me with opened arms, I feel I’ve made a friend. Living in such an isolated place, Jo doesn’t see many trans people, in fact, in 16 years of living in rural France she’s only met one very brave woman who has transitioned here.

Attitudes towards me here are even worse than they were in Latvia. I’m probably the first trans woman that many of these people have ever seen and I’m laughed at and stared at every day and it’s draining.

When I’m with Jo I have the protection of being with another and the hate isn’t so bad, but when I’m on my own it’s much more hateful and particularly upsetting. People feel they’re able to abuse me more when I’m alone.

Social etiquette is different here. In the UK it’s considered rude to stare or point at someone and usually if I make eye contact and give a death stare to someone judging me in a negative way they’ll often look away feeling most embarrassed.

Here, that isn’t the case. When I stare back at someone in rural France, they’re unfazed and that is quite frightening but amidst my feelings of discomfort amongst the locals and the hatred I receive both online and in the writings and speeches of the Trans Exclusionary Feminists, some good has come from this month. I’ve empowered someone to have some work done and I’ve made a new friend and maybe, just maybe, I’m doing my bit for trans awareness in this remote part of the world.

Next week we return to the UK and I have two weeks at home before I return to Latvia for the second instalment of my surgery, a week after which I will be celebrating my six month mark of Hormone Replacement Therapy.

Things are good.

FEATURE: Transitioning with Sugar – Sugar’s Big Hair Trip – Part 1

Posted on by Ms Sugar Swan

Latvia, a country neighbouring Russia, regained independence from the Soviet Union in 1992 and decriminalised homosexuality soon after, however, general social opinion has not moved on much since then.

Ms Sugar Swan
Ms Sugar Swan

In 2005, Riga, the capital city, held its first Pride but unfortunately counter protesters greatly outnumbered Pride attendees and in 2006 Riga Pride was banned by the authorities. Regardless, Pride took place again in 2007 and the 500 Pride-goers outnumbered the 100 counter protesters. However, simultaneous anti-Pride events elsewhere in the city attracted thousands of protesters.

Same-sex marriage is banned as is same-sex adoption with only 12% and 8% of Latvians supporting these equalities. As an LGBT+ person in Latvia you are at a much greater risk of attack than you are here in the UK and local meeting points for the small LGBT+ community are often targeted. As an LGBT+ person you’re not able to make criminal charges against your attacker other than that of ‘hooliganism’.

So what was I, a trans woman who doesn’t pass through the world looked upon as cisgender by the majority of people, going to Latvia for in the first place?

A hair transplant. I had searched the world for a surgeon willing to take me on as a patient and I just could not find one. I’m so bald from going through male menopause at 19 years old that most surgeons wouldn’t touch me stating that I was simply not a candidate for this surgery and my only option was wigs, or they would try to take my money upfront knowing that they would only be able to give me a partial head of hair and not tell me this until I had made the journey to their country and was half way through surgery.

I’d just about given up hope after receiving so many knockbacks when my now standard email explaining who I am accompanied with photos of myself didn’t get a refusal email, but a request to Skype.

I wasn’t too hopeful as I’d been through this process many times and been refused, but this time was different. I had my first Skype consultation with a female surgeon who explained what I’d heard many times about the limited amount of donor hair, but I appealed to her, reminding her why she went into this line of business in the first place and made it very clear I was prepared to take a risk if she would.

This would be new to her as even the most advanced clients are done in one day of surgery lasting 8-10 hours, and perhaps the next morning. She warned me that this wouldn’t be easy, it would be pioneering. There would be no guarantees and that I’d have to sit through up to 16 hours of surgery a day over multiple days. She recruited extra nurses to work alongside her and we were all set to try something new – so, I was off to Riga. Scary on all accounts.

I’d never used my female passport before and going through the London airport I found it all very exciting. Having breasts and testicles show up on the 3D scanner, which then assumes that one of them is concealing drugs, resulted in me being referred for extra security.

My gender and pronouns were respected and I felt I was treated with dignity. This continued as I passed through the airport which, by their very nature, are a crossroads for all types of people of all diversity. It was only when I approached the gate of a Latvia-borne flight by a Hungarian carrier that the attitudes towards me changed.

I’m a strong woman who’s not easily flustered anymore and although I could tell the man sitting shoulder to shoulder with me on the flight wanted to punch me in the face, he knew he couldn’t and I felt safe knowing that.

Passport control was much easier than anticipated and before I knew it I was in a car on the way to a five-star hotel. The hotel and the staff were amazing and couldn’t do enough for me, even running out for cigarettes for me because I didn’t feel safe.

The next morning I was picked up in a car at 8am and taken to surgery. I met my team of five who were to be working on me and we wasted no time. The actual procedure was worse than I’d ever imagined but I always knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. We worked solidly, stopping twice for meals and I was driven back as the nurses cleaned up the theatre at 11.30pm. I was picked up at 8am the next day and we finished at 11pm, agreeing that the potential risks of working a third day far outweighed any benefits, so we stopped and booked another two full days of surgery in 10 weeks time when I have, fingers crossed, healed without infection.

The physical and emotional pain I was in over those two days was matched by the physical and emotional exhaustion from the team working on me. I consider myself very lucky to have found them and to have convinced them into taking on this level of work.

As I prepared to fly home my face was swollen beyond recognition. I tried my best to apply some make-up to at least try to look a little like my passport. I had a letter in Latvian and English from my surgeon explaining what I’d been through and that I wouldn’t look like my passport photo. Nor could I wear a wig, and so bandaged up, with my best foot forward I headed home, grateful of those letters, as I really did need them.

I’m now seven days post-op and the nerve-endings are starting to come back which is increasing my pain levels despite the cocktail of painkillers. There’s no sign of infection, which is great, and I’m looking forward to nine weeks time, five by the time this is published, when I fly back to be reunited with my surgical team for another few days of work.
What a lucky, lucky woman I am.

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