United States
John Marshall Place Park

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    • Day 185

      #1. First steps

      June 20, 2024 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 32 °C

      One more check in the mirror - I can’t believe I cut myself shaving - halfway between the bottom of my nose and my upper lip. A little bloody Charlie Chaplin moustache. Multiple layers of foundation and powder and I can still see it. That said, I can still see my beard shadow when everyone else insists that they can’t. Last check, make sure my skirt isn’t tucked into my underwear, that the wig is straight. Triple check the purse for my phone and the room key.

      And………….. go

      I step into the hallway and head to the elevator. I am starting to feel that confidence. I get on and see the girl in the mirror, the one who has shadowed me since I was four years old. The doors open and I stride into the lobby. The girl is now on the other side of the looking glass. Out of the lobby and out into the street. I am in Chinatown, on H street (I didn’t even know Washington had a Chinatown). The heat has already started but I am lucky that my route is mostly in the shade. As I walk down 6th towards Pennsylvania Avenue I repeat Olivier’s advice in my head. Be confident. Own the space. Eye contact. My posture is better in spite or because of the low heels I am wearing.and I realize that I am confident, I am owning the space. The simple reality that feminine me is confidently walking downtown in a foreign city is a source of joy and wonder to me. I am early and feeling good so I stop to pick up an Americano (when in America….) .. the barista asks my name for the order - “Holly”- and a smile flits across my face because it’s still new saying this and it still feels so good. I continue and turn left on Pennsylvania Avenue and suddenly the iconic Dome of the Capitol appears in the distance. Just a block or two and then I am at the Embassy. I have been to many embassies and consulates before, and high commissions and permanent missions too. But never this one, the biggest and arguably the most important one we have. And never, ever before as the person I have always known myself to be. I am making personal history today.

      I had already made some yesterday. My first flight post transition. First border crossing. First time landing in another country. First hotel check in. It’s all gone amazingly.

      Yesterday evening was spent in great company with foreign service family. Our work is so intense, our lives so unique and our careers so intertwined you gain a tribe. S, who hosted, and cheekily turned it into a surprise birthday for me, I had worked with in India (on my second tour). She has a lovely easygoing and unpretentious air and our backgrounds are quite similar so the age gap melts away. She was one of the first work people I came out to and will always have a special place in my heart. Her son H, who had grown nine feet since I’d seen him seven years earlier, drifted in an out as one would suspect of a teenager.

      I had worked with L at HQ and she is whip smart, beautifully sarcastic and effortlessly cool and we shared the sad connection of having lost beloved parents. Her partner S was someone I’d known of for years but not spent time with and I was happy to remedy that. She was also easy going and we readily connected.

      Rounding out our dinner were A and E who were on a house hunting mission as they prepared for a move to Washington. I have known A for a while and we’d collaborated on a variety of projects together. He has forgotten more technical knowledge than I could ever know yet has a wonderful patience with Luddite’s like me. We too bonded over loss of parents. He is ten feet tall and has the sensitive soul of a child. His partner E is lovely with a quick laugh and kind smile and someone else who I was so grateful to get to know better.

      Forget your stereotypes about diplomats. The ones I know at least are genuine, grounded humans.

      Over dinner at the house in Arlington we shared stories, gossiped, laughed and did what sustains us wherever we are around the world. Even in Ottawa. We had birthday cake and I returned to the hotel counting my blessings. All of these people had known me as a bald guy named Oscar for varying lengths of time, yet effortlessly pivoted to embracing Holly. I could ask nothing more of them and it means the world to me. I would gladly be posted anywhere in the world with these people.

      Back to the embassy. I climb the steps and go to the receptionist under the watchful eye of security and mention I am here to visit S. An already great day is about to get better and better.

      *** Please note that all opinions expressed are my own personal views and not those of my employer.
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    • Day 185

      #2. Stepping up

      June 20, 2024 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 32 °C

      The DHOM (Deputy Head of Mission), who will be the first speaker, has let us know she will come down in about ten minutes. The room is filling up nicely, It’s World Refugee Day and it’s Pride Month and tonight’s reception marks the launch of the Annual Report of Rainbow Railroad, a non-governmental organization dedicated to protecting the rights of LGBTQI+ refugees around the world and a key partner for our refugee program.

      This is why I am here in Washington. I was asked to MC this event and, since I was coming, managed to add a few more meetings to round out the day. It’s been intense but good.

      I check my phone and look over at the podium. Five more minutes. Earlier today we had checked out the room and I had stood up there, imagining myself addressing 50-80 people, tonight’s estimated attendance.

      Public speaking of any kind used to be a massive anxiety trigger for me. Back in undergrad a presentation to a seminar of a dozen classmates would paralyze me with fear. Sometimes I would take an Ativan which would take the jagged edge off but at the cost of leaving me feeling vaguely lobotomized and unsure of how it went after. Or during for that matter.

      Somehow I overcame that and gradually came to enjoy public speaking and storytelling and especially how the two were interwoven. I learned that I could speak to a large crowd and establish rapport. Even one that was hostile or suspicious. It’s 50% preparation, thinking through the script and the messaging and 50% reading the room. I need to get better at doing the latter more seamlessly because I do tend to get into a flow state and forget about it unless I make a conscious effort. Maybe I am reading the room somewhere below the level of awareness. I don’t know.

      The DHOM has arrived and S gives me a nod. It’s go time.

      I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have gotten good at this. I have done it a million times.

      I have never done it in a dress.

      At least this is my favourite dress. With brilliant blues (match my eyes I am told) and a good length. I feel confident. I’ve felt confident all day.

      I am also wearing a special talisman. A heavy silvery metal pendant on a fine silver chain. It’s a little cast sculpture in the form of an Inuk woman standing legs slightly apart. She is wearing a parka and peeking out of the hood of the parka, cheek to cheek with her, is an infant. My father had travelled to Baffin Island for business back in the mid-1970s and bought it as a gift for my Mom. Wearing it now I feel like Mom is with me. I feel her protection.

      I take the podium and lean into the microphone “Good evening everyone! Bon soir!”, Ottawa habits following me wherever I go. After a few more attempts and some helpful glass tapping from the floor the room finally goes quiet and all eyes are on me.

      “Good evening, Bon soir” I repeat now with everyone’s attention. “Welcome to the Embassy of Canada. We are very pleased to welcome you to tonight’s reception to celebrate the vital work of one of our important partners, Rainbow Railroad. My name is Holly Jacobs. I am a trans woman. I’ve waited fifty five years to say this.“ I stop and savour the moment.

      “Tonight we will be hearing from distinguished speakers from the Embassy, from the United States Government, the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, and from Rainbow Railroad themselves.” Pause for a breath and room check. “Before we launch into the program I would like to share something. My flight yesterday was quite stressful. I only received my passport at the very last minute the night before. It was my first time flying post transition. First time leaving the country. Going through security. Crossing a border. First hotel check in. And then I thought to myself, I am feeling stressed? Really? I am travelling legally. I am documented. I have trusted friends at both my start and endpoint. I know the language at both start and end. I have cash and cards and a hotel reservation. If I am feeling stressed with all of these privileges, what must an LGBTQI+ refugee feel? How powerful must their motivation be and how awful their fear?” Audience scan. A sea of attentive faces, many nodding. That landed well.

      I make some technical announcements including location of the washrooms (not inclusive) and that there is a themed cocktail available, the “Rainbow Rum Sidecar”, the product of the research and dedication of S. And then I introduce the DHOM and step down.

      The remaining introductions and interstitial bits between speakers go fine. The final speaker is a refugee resettled from Central America, a gay man, who brings down the house communicating his joy and relief, and his commitment to helping other newcomers. I call for another round of applause for him and then I am wrapping things up, thanking everyone for coming and urging them to stay and network and enjoy the hospitality.

      I am on a cloud. My entire life I could not have imagined doing this, even eight months ago I was terrified of stepping out my front door and braving public spaces as authentic me. I feel invincible and euphoric.

      *** Please note that all opinions expressed are my own personal views and not those of my employer.
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    • Day 4

      Newseum Washington

      December 29, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 12 °C

      Das Newseum ist ein Museum in Washington, D.C. zum Thema Journalismus. Das Museum wurde erstmals 1997 in Rosslyn (Virginia) eröffnet und am 11. April 2008 in Washington, D.C. wiedereröffnet. Es hat eine über sieben Etagen verteilte Ausstellungsfläche von 23.000 Quadratmetern und umfasst verschiedene Galerien und Kinos.

      Im Newseum befindet sich das größte Stück der Berliner Mauer außerhalb Deutschlands
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    • Day 4

      Newseum Washington

      December 29, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 12 °C

      Das Museum, dessen Neubau 450 Millionen US-Dollar gekostet hat, wurde zum großen Teil von Freedom Forum, einer amerikanischen Vereinigung für Rede- und Pressefreiheit, finanziert. Es steht zwischen Pennsylvania Avenue und Sixth Street, N.W., in unmittelbarer Nähe zur Museumsmeile an der National Mall. Vor dem Gebäude und auf seiner Website bietet es täglich einen Vergleich von Titelseiten dutzender internationaler Tageszeitungen.Read more

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