Meet Clio

The first day of my new life would not come peacefully. It was a cold, gray April morning and the winds that normally chill to the bone were exceptionally strong, even for this time of year. These weren't just the winds of change; more like the tornado of change!

Court, 9:00 AM. I make small talk with the family to my right. A chatty father sits between his wife and daughter, trying to ease her nervousness by regaling her with the "30 or so times" he was arrested for drunk driving. Turns out, laws weren't as strict back in the 60s. Amusing as his stories were, her stomach continued to growl. I offered to share some strawberry Pocky from Tokyo and that seemed to help.

The daughter, barely 21 if a day, looked like she would be more comfortable at a rock-a-billy show than court, though it was obvious she made an effort to dress appropriately. If she asked, I would have mentioned that courtroom etiquette generally frowns upon tattoos on women seeking custody. Her foot-long naked lady silhouette tat down her left calf showed through her too-thin tights, but as it turned out, her husband hired a lawyer and what was to be a hearing was now simply a meet-and-greet for the lawyers. She, like me, was going to have to come back again.

Finally, my name is called, and I stand before a judge and swear that I'll tell the truth. He butchers my name, but I'm already used to that from my former moniker, so I just politely smile through it all. Three minutes later, it's all over.

I now have 4 copies of a court order to change my name. Awesome! I immediately sashayed next door to the county clerk office to get a new birth certificate when the high was shut down: she took one look at me and said she wouldn't change the M to an F without a court order, and my court order didn't say that. She said it very casually, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. Since I can't get an 'F' on my driver's license without one on my birth certificate, my mood threatened to mirror the turbulent weather outside.

Undaunted, I plead my case to the court secretaries who find cause to be sympathetic and take my papers to the judge's secretaries, who come out one at a time to try to make sense of the situation. I'm passing to the extent where no one questions the notion that there should in fact be an 'F' on my license. Finally, I find myself in front of a new judge, a woman, who is quickly scanning previous cases for precedent. After 10 minutes or so of searching (holding up a case outside) she finally tells me that there is none. Evidently, I'm the first one in my local government to do this sort of thing... that's some county clerk!

After agreeing to get my doctor to send her a letter saying I am in fact, currently undergoing hormone replacement therapy (HRT) she offers to create a new court order and tells me she'll do it that day!

At 3:00 PM, I now have 4 copies of a court ordering my name and gender to be changed! Next stop, the county clerk again. This time though, I'm ready for the red tape. What would later give me pause was watching her erase the existence of my old life. Literally! She pulled out a dusty book from 19xx and flipped through the hand-written pages until she found the line documenting my birth. She then white-outed the entire line. Just like that, with one swoop, my past was erased.

There's no going back now! Skipping the social security office (I'll get to that on another day) I rush to the BMV with a new birth certificate and a court order. 15 minutes later:

The pink banner is the strawberry cream icing on my cake! Or maybe Pocky. When it all was said and done, I looked at the clock to find it cheerfully at 4:20. More cosmic signs re-affirming my choices!

Hi, I'm Clio Renée. Today is my birthday. Thank you Shelly and Marianne for helping to make it possible. Thank you my friends, Amy, Dana, Regina, Joe, and Alan for being a part of this very, very special day... you remembered! I love you all!