Somewhat by a miracle, all these things fell into line as the result of my own efforts and the cooperation of a great many people, some know- ing, some not. With the surgeon's signature, the Bureau of Vital Sta- tistics issued a new birth certificate saying all the right things for my future life. However, my employer of the preceding four years refused to give a recommendation except in the name under which I had served in the company and also refused to keep me on in a different capacity, as he had originally promised. The fact that I led the sales force made no impression. They would not relent. So you see no past. Cut off. No footer on which to lay the first brick for a new life.

This problem doesn't loom very large in one's eyes while the problem of achieving the "change" is still uppermost in one's mind. But it be- comes plenty large as soon as one begins the task of constructing her new life. Employers always want to know where you worked last and frequently ask for references; credit applications ask the same thing plus your place of residence for the last five years (you can give the address but if they check up they won't know any "Miss-so-and-so❞ will they?); insurance policies and insurance examinations for employ- ment usually require a complete previous medical history and who was the doctor (Hospitals and doctors records will all show "male" so what are you trying to do defraud the insurance company? They can refuse otherwise payable claims on such technicalities). Everywhere you turn in our society somebody wants to know who you were, where you lived, where you were employed BEFORE and you, in effect, don't have a "before".

I crossed several states and settled down with what little money I had left. A TV, one whom I had dated for about two years, and I were married in 1967 in a little Baptist church and a very dear friend (TV) was our best man. We had hope. I had an identity at last. Having made the disastrous mistake of marriage as a male, I felt I knew what I had to do as a wife to make things work.

My new husband couldn't support me on his income, so, even though I was not yet well, I applied with an employment agency and talked my way (literally) into a job paying only about $15. a week less than I had earned previously. That was pure luck. I had three jobs in that city and when my mate was transferred, I too arranged a transfer. The new office was drag with no future and I got out of it as soon as possible and I now manage an office in the suburbs of our city.

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