At dinner one evening, our conversation turned to doctors when my friend Cristina casually mentioned that she had a prostate exam scheduled for Tuesday. Two decades ago, I would have assumed she had misspoken and laughed. This time, I simply stared at her, thinking first, Wow! and then, Good for you.
I thought back to when we first met. Cristina and I had friends in common, but none of them had taken me aside to offer a whispered explanation. That was exactly as it should have been. Her story was hers to share, whenever—and with whomever—she chose.
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Some guests at the table knew Cristina well; others had never met her. The men in the group collectively groaned, already imagining the discomfort of what awaited her at the doctor’s office. A prostate exam is invasive and unpleasant, so we did our best to express our sympathy.
A few months earlier, I had heard a public-radio host refer to “people with prostate cancer.” My boyfriend, Hugh, immediately questioned the wording. “Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say men with prostate cancer?” he asked.
“Trans women can develop it, too,” I explained.
Hugh paused. “I’d always assumed that transitioning meant you no longer had a prostate.”
“If only that were true,” I said. “Every man would transition at 60. Playboy types, Baptist ministers—you name it. There wouldn’t be a single exception.”
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The prostate can feel like a biological time bomb, and who would willingly keep one if removing it simply meant becoming a woman? The consequences would be extraordinary: no more elderly fathers to care for, only additional mothers. Adult-diaper sales would collapse, while the lines for women’s bathrooms at Eagles concerts would stretch twice as long.
Cristina is Filipino, and as the evening went on, I found myself reflecting on the courage it took to live openly and honestly. I would not usually describe it as “living her truth,” but in that moment the phrase seemed fitting. On a more awkward and self-serving level, I also realized I was grateful to have a box checked. At future gatherings, when the topic arose, I could say, “According to my trans friend Cristina.” I could even make it sound more specific by calling her my “trans Filipina friend.” That, I realized, was probably tokenism.
I was still sorting through those thoughts the next morning when Cristina sent me an email: “My mistake! I’m not having a prostate exam on Tuesday. It’s a colonoscopy.”
I replied, “I assumed that’s what you meant.”
Story produced by Amy Wall.
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