Cis-ters of the Identity War

Troy stood gazing in the mirror an extra minute before she pulled her compression shirt down over her torso. It had been two years since her detransition commenced and though she was still remorseful of her body; at least she could be grateful that the cancer surgeon who'd done her mom's mastectomy, was willing to take on her case.

Troy paused one last moment examining her "new" underwear, as she pulled on the hem to test its "bounce factor". The compression shirt was similar to those burn victims wear and had originally been one of her mom's following her surgery. Mom though had managed to gain enough weight once she was in remission, to have to buy bigger shirts; and mom still wore them even under her mastectomy braziers. Mom was now cleared for reconstruction surgery; but for some odd reason Troy wasn't sure of, mom didn't seem… interested?

Mom, being a daughter born to hippies; was actually legally named Sunflower. Her friends called her Sunny; but of course to Troy, she was just mom.

But… at least both Troy and her… sunny mom, had survived this whole ordeal to be able to see each other at the breakfast table every morning. And all Troy could do was suck back a sob at the thought of her mom making it to her high school graduation.

Troy had taken a nearly two year "medical leave"; had switched schools two times now (or was it three?) and fortunately had "slid in" under her current school; who'd granted her an IEP for "Emotional Disturbance". And though Troy wasn't happy about the Special Education classification. She had to admit it "fit".

But at least I get a high school diploma! She told herself as she knew that so long as she was under the state's special education program; they couldn't kick her out of school until she was 21. And she'd just made it!

Maybe college will be next? Troy's thoughts rambled hopefully as she pulled on her favorite pair of billowy "rapper jeans", a colorful vest over a grunge rock band t-shirt and slid into some comfortable sneakers. She ran a quick brush through her bright purple hair and grabbed her computer bag. After all, school had gone really well this past year and she'd made the dean's list!

Troy had one last check up with the surgeon today; which sunny mom assured her would go well. Troy had observed that the doctor seemed ambivalent and was pretty much silent of any opinion on Troy's "top surgery"; but she did good reconstructions; which made Troy hopeful! But at least the doc did do something about the constant infections left in the wake of Troy's "gender reassignment surgery". Her scars had finally healed and at least she was excited to finally be able to go into the pool at the Y with her mom's cancer recovery support exercise class.

The strange things I look forward to now. Troy eyed herself in the mirror one last time and smirked.

Nary did she ever suspect a group of recovering cancer patients; women of all ages and stages in life would ever accept her: A silly teenage girl who once thought she was a boy? Troy tried; caught somewhere between crying and not being able to; before she simply let out a sigh and decided to just "get on with the day". Yet the gaggle of mixed cis sistah's seemed to understand the loss of a major part of what it meant to be a woman.

Still though, Troy felt like an imposter; seeing how she'd lost nothing to cancer. Her life had been in no danger. No, she…. volunteered for this…. mutilation. And nearly 3 years later; she still shook her head at the question: "Why?"

"Child, getting into His Kingdom maimed; is better than not getting there at all!" One hearty soul'ed Nigerian cancer survivor had told Troy.

Tifeoluwa was a proud grandma who'd fled with her children after the first Nigerian coup de'tat in 1966. It was through a long process, three more coups, a civil war and several refugee resettlement camps before Tifeoluwa and her last surviving son Adedayo made it to US soil. Troy didn't know exactly what it was that drew her to this very traditional African granny; but Troy knew one thing. She admired Tifeoluwa's courage and perseverance.

Adedayo had made his momma proud as he'd worked hard through college and was hired on as an assistant to the law firm of one of his professor's colleagues. He'd never made partner; but was happy working on immigration cases helping fellow Nigerians both escape the wars, as well as trying to put their country and communities back together. One group of fellow graduates traveled with Doctors without Boarders providing supplies and medial support to various clinics all over Africa.

Adedayo's American wife Jacklyn had joked that she was the illegitimate descant of Harriet Tubman and John F. Kennedy. Which of course none of her African friends and associates ever got the joke; other than her ancestors having been in North America since the 1600's, she was most likely the descendant of slaves. Although rumor had it too that Jacklyn was also half Cherokee. She'd told Troy that she was an original American native immigrant!

"We'll leave it at part of the human race; girl!" Jacklyn had proudly declared.

Yeah, part of the human race. At least I can claim that. Troy sucked in a sigh.

Troy Emma Marie; was the name she'd finally decided on. Troy had been her preferred name and Emma Marie was her birth name. Now why… Sunflower Fieldmann had decided to name her daughter such a boring thing as Emma Marie? Troy never understood. But then Sunflower Fieldmann married… Bernard Brown! And a field of brown sunflowers…. Well…

So Sunflower dropped the mann; of which Troy decided sounded cool enough to adopt and consequently, the family now has a Sunny Field and a Troy Mann.

Troy was no particular name; other than kinda of one… Emma Marie made up. Emma…. had always been a Star Trek fan and admired Dianna Troy; but also liked Kes, Dax, Chakotay and Worf. Since Chakotay and Worf were too well known and Kes was too feminine; it was a toss up between Dax and Troy.

Than of course 7 of 9 was out of the question too. Troy smirked; despite the Borg who was always looking for perfection, was the character… Emma could relate to the most.

Troy seemed to still fit the best; seeing how Emma really wasn't Emma any more; though her Grandmother's name was Emma and having fond memories of grandma, Troy didn't want to give Emma up either. But…. still maybe Troy wanted to go back to Troy Emma Fieldmann? As… Marie just seemed like a useless… assemblage of 5 letters!

Who am I now anyways; was the question that kept tripping through Troy's mind. Emma liked the name Troy because it could be anyone's name. Yet at the same time, she couldn't seem to get away from the idea that Troy was an ancient Greek city with a tragic end. But also… Troy means descendant of the foot soldier; of which Emma always imagined herself fighting epic battles. Then again, she'd never been engaged in any battle more epic than that for her own identity!

"Hey, here's your bagel and hot chocolate." Sunny mom muttered through hasty swipes of the kitchen counter. "We gotta get out of here or we're going to be late." She sighed with one last mumble of resignation. "Again."

"Well here." Troy grabbed mom's purse as she swigged a couple of gulps of chocolate.

"Thanks." Mom mumbled as she surveilled the counter for where she'd last left her keys and phone; opened the door and yelled into the back yard: "Bernie Sanders get in here!"

And along tripped the roly poly and a bit rotund beagle whose real name was Cornel Sanders. (Of which that original name he'd attained upon his own propensity to steal chicken.)

Troy smirked as Sunny mom muttered insult upon injury: "Come on ya fat commie."

Troy waved a biscuit of encouragement at the dog. "But mom; isn't he just the cutest fat commie you ever did see." She leaned over with a pat while Bernie soothed his doggie feelings utilizing his slobbery canine vacuuming skills.

"Well I don't know." Sunny mom peered back through the mudroom door. "The way he keeps tripping and bumping into things; we're gonna have to start calling him Joe Biden."

"Oooh ouch; such a mean mom." Troy cooed at… Bernie Biden; before she hurried out the door and slid into the passenger's seat.

The 20 minute ride to the doctor's office was a quiet one; as the oldies station reeled off an odd combination of the Beatles, the Who and… Stevie Nix?

Troy sat staring at the passing scenery lost in thoughts of the odyssey of the last two years. She was slowly coming to terms with her forever changed appearance and the multiple repercussions of having taken testosterone for 3 years. Though she'd managed to overcome a lot, having dedicated herself to finishing high school; of which she was very proud, but the hell she'd put herself (and her Sunny mom) through, was at times unbearable.

All the "friends" she thought she'd had to "celebrate" her "gender affirmation" were all gone now. Her regrets over the choices she'd made had been received with not much other than vile hate that degenerated into her final decision to delete all her social media accounts. Not even the "medical professionals" who'd sent her down this river were willing to help her. She'd run away (upon the assistance of a teacher at school actually) to California to… "affirm her gender"…. Troy even still now had profound revulsion at the thought.

Then on that one fateful day; she called her mom from a payphone in the hospital lobby. She'd been refused medical care at the "gender clinic"; simply labeled as "unsatisfied patient" after the counselor couldn't alleviate her ever increasing doubts.

The real reason; sinking into the back of Troy's mind, was that she'd just turned 18, had aged out of the… system and was about to lose her state Medicaid. This all wasn't only about money was it? She couldn't help but thinking, as she sat on a bench outside the hospital and sobbed.

A couple of brave and… honest souls had asked… him if… he was OK. The other men who approached were "hoping" a few bucks for some… "services" would appease… his sorrows. But Troy knew that not even the crack would help at this point.

She… got up and went back into the lobby. When visiting hours neared closing and not wanting to spend the night outside; she snuck off to find some place to hide.

"Dude, what you doin in here?" The custodian who came to clean the chapel startled Troy.

"Just waitin'…. for mom." Troy, did… his? best to suck back the sniffles.

The custodian leaned on his broom and flashed a perplexed scowl. "You a patient here?" He muttered. "Where's mom?"

"Was." Troy whispered with a glance at the clock. "I'm guessing about Nevada."

"What?" The stranger swished the broom around a bit. "You wantin' ta go ta Nevada?"

"No, mom's in Nevada by now." Troy answered. "She's coming from Colorado."

"What'ca doin here when mom in Colorado?" The fellow muttered another careless question as he pulled out his spray bottle and cleaning rag to wipe down the chairs.

"It's a long story." Troy whispered.

"Well…." The fellow sighed as he moved on to the side table and proceeded to straiten up the scattered chaplain request cards. "If it mean anything to ya? I was a street kid too. Some mission preacher cared enough to get me off the corner." He paused a moment. "Took a couple of months now; but I finally got clean enough to…. get a real job." He let out a bit of a scornful laugh. "Moppin' floors don't pay much but…. the price of my dignity I suppose." He paused another indecisive minute. "Perverts." He muttered to himself.

"Well…." He sighed one last time as he loaded his supplies back on the cleaning cart. "You seem at least half way clean." He lent an observation. "If ya promise not to destroy nothin'; I won't call security." He posed his agreement. "Deal?"

Troy looked up as the stranger now stood a few feet away with his hand out.

"Deal?" He asked again.

"Deal." Troy reached up. "Thanks." …..He? mumbled.

"I hope…." The stranger paused another breath or two. "No, I pray…" He laughed with a decisive finger in the air. "I pray you can patch it up wit' you momma." He sighed one last time before he turned around and maneuvered his squeaky cart out the chapel doors.

Troy awoke to a pile of expired tissues and someone poking… him?

"Is your name Troy… Emma Marie Fieldmann?" The security guard made a funny face.

"Emma Marie Fieldmann; yeah." Troy whispered as the tears spilled out. "Is my mom here?" …. Emma… cried.

The security guard took one last look at… him? Before radioing in. "Chief, I think we found the daughter..?; …son? Ehh… we found the missing… kid."

Troy sprung up from the floor. "Where's my mom?" She? inquired in tearful anticipation.

"She down at the security desk in the lobby." The guard said gruffly as he pointed to the floor. "Clean up after yourself young man; where's yer manners?"

"Oh, yeah officer." Troy hastily gathered up the tissues and out of thoughtless reflex handed the security guard the box as she? hurried out of the chapel.

"Hey!" The guard yelled as he frisbee pitched the sample box of hospital tissues toward Troy. "Take this too. I don't want it."

"Thanks officer." Troy squeaked as ….she? swiped up the box with one hand while throwing the wad of tissues into the trash with the other.

Mom, Mom, Mom…. She… cried as… she scurried through the halls to the elevator and down toward the lobby. It had been… at least a year? now since …. she'd seen… her mom. Troy's excited paces suddenly grew heavy. Will mom even recognize me…. he? cried.

The last few paces toward the security desk were excruciating.

"Mom..my?" The faint voice of a little girl lost so long ago squeaked out of Troy's soul.

The woman whose coat… he? recognized from years back turned around.

"Em.. Um…. Troy?" The woman looked searchingly at the figure coming near her.

Troy stopped. "Do you… recognize me?" The painful question spilled out.

"Kind of…" The stranger's face began to whimper as she reached out toward her… daughter. "You… remind me of your uncle Charles; …. when, he got off the plane from Iraq." Mom paused. "He didn't look the same either." Mom whispered as she wrapped her arms around her… child. "Welcome home." Mom cried. "It's been a long war."

Yeah mom, it's been a long war. Troy sighed as she peered over at Sunny mom before taking a deep breath and opening the car door. Another round of battle scars that can't really be fixed. Troy thought to herself. But I guess at least this body now more resembles the scars on my soul.