Queering the MBA

Editors’ note: It is common for students to attend business school for the purpose of making a major career change, and there are myriad programs and support staff in place to help facilitate this sort of transition. But a second year at Owen is undergoing a much more profound change. OwenBloggers is proud to present the first in a series of lifestyle pieces written by a student chronicling her experience as a transgender student at a major American business school.

For most of us, giving Owen our deposit for a seat in the Class of 2012 (or now, 2013) was the first step in a life changing process. For me, that life changing process is a little different than most of my classmates. Like them, I entered Owen last fall knowing that I would receive a top notch MBA education. But unlike my peers (that I know of), I was the only one also planning to transition from male to female while at school. I had no idea how the process would go, how people would react, and a thousand other questions whose answer was always I don’t know.

I remember sitting in orientation, listening to Sara Gates (Owen ’96) lead the keynote “do whatever *YOU* want with your MBA and life” pep rally, and thinking how her words could easily be applied to my transition. Ultimately, that’s really what transitioning is: setting what many would call a batshit crazy goal and working relentlessly to achieve it. Kind of like an MBA.

A big difference between an MBA education and transitioning is that unlike core classes, there’s no real peer group to turn to for help. Before I got to Owen, I spent a lot of time on the Internet looking for success stories of transgendered women in the workplace. There are plenty, though none I found had transitioned while in an MBA program. LGBT student organizations don’t do a great job supporting the “T” – this isn’t because they don’t care, but trans visibility can be tricky. Being transgendered can be costly in a number of ways – and being “out” to the public often increases that cost. Family, friends, jobs – you name it, someone has lost it because they are transsexual. So a lot of transitioners simply choose not to out themselves. So my transition was going to be pretty much on my own.

I had to see a doctor, get multiple blood tests, lower my cholesterol, eat better, and drop weight just to prepare. Though to be fair, I probably needed to do most of those things anyway – parts of the sedentary 9 to 5 lifestyle didn’t really work out so well for me. I also had to talk with a therapist, and therapists have a pretty specific and narrow CYA (cover-your-ass) process when it comes to gender transitions. What I said wasn’t good enough for her, so eventually I had to go back to my doctor and state: this is what I plan to do, help me make it happen (my therapist said she’ll change her approach).

After I started hormone replacement therapy (HRT) everything started to change. Every worry I had about whether or not HRT would work was gone after the first few days, and the clarity that came with lifting that weight is amazing. But it wasn’t all unicorns, rainbows, and NPV calculations. As I continued to change, that newfound mental downtime started being occupied with what classmates would think and what they would say when they found out.

I knew I had to tell them at some point, but when? At the point where it’d be impossible to mistake me for a male and the changes would connect the dots for even the most unobservant? Surely someone would say something before then, and rumors would spread. So maybe I should just tell them before I really looked any different? I’d have to explain a little more, but I’d also find out how much support I’d have and be able to lean on it much sooner. Cost/benefit analysis, game theory, leadership communications – can I get class credit for this?

Stay tuned to Queering the MBA for to hear how that process worked out (spoiler: obviously pleasantly enough that I’m now writing about it).