My First Day Back to Work
Like everyone in our community, I’ll never forget my first day back at work after transitioning full-time. For me, that day was October 12, 2010. Let me take you back a few months earlier, to June 2010, when I attended the Philadelphia Trans Health Conference (now called the Philadelphia Trans Wellness Conference). While there, I watched five-, six-, and seven-year-old kids enjoying themselves and having fun, only to learn they were transgender children. I attended workshops just to hear stories of lives just like mine, and the more I heard, the more I began to understand that I was transgender too. I left that conference fired up, feeling like a runaway freight train heading back to Maryland, ready to figure out what I needed to do to transition full-time as a woman at work.
That Monday, I went looking for a friend at work — one of our agency’s attorneys — who happened to be traveling and then on vacation. It was the longest two weeks of my life. When she returned, I was so happy to see her and tell her what I needed to share. I shut her office door and told her I was transgender. She said she felt honored that I trusted her enough to come to her, and she told me she’d talk with the firm’s Director of Civil Rights and Inclusiveness (CRI) without giving my name. The next day, my friend relayed the reaction, which was just as positive and welcoming. I then met and talked with the director myself, and she said she wanted to loop in our CEO on the plan. The CEO gave his full blessing and told the director to do whatever it took to make it go smoothly for me. I was later advised to keep my transition confidential between the director and me until we were ready to announce it. From there, we set up weekly meetings to plan how to tell the agency, across the country, on the same day and time, without it leaking beforehand. I said, “Not a problem — on Facebook I already go by a different name, Karen Kendra Harris, so no one from the agency would recognize me there.”
On October 1, 2010, after work, I went home and threw away all my male clothes except for one shirt, one pair of pants, and a pair of sneakers. On Monday, October 4, I went into the agency one last time as Tony to tell the head of my department about my transition, since we’d worried the news might leak from her first. When I told her, she said she didn’t care, that she still loved me, and that I was a good worker — that’s all that mattered to her. She gave me a big hug, and I went home, returning to work as Karen on October 12, 2010.
I was also told by the Director of Civil Rights not to call anyone at work or check my work email until I returned. At a mandatory meeting held across all our state offices and headquarters at the same time, staff were told the story of my transition and that I’d be returning as Karen. After hearing the news, a number of staff went looking for me on Facebook and discovered all the good things I’d already been doing in the community. I later heard that, because of that unusual mandatory meeting, some staff initially feared they were about to be laid off — with no idea it was actually about me. The one real logistical issue that came out of that meeting was the restroom situation, which my agency solved by converting the small restrooms on each floor into single-use, lockable restrooms. In the days before returning, I focused on getting myself ready: I had a weave put in, went to the nail salon for a pedicure and manicure with a nice burgundy color, and picked out my outfit. On Sunday, October 10, the night before going back, I laid out a nice pair of slacks and a top with about one-and-a-half-inch heels — I didn’t want to walk in wearing a dress right away. That night, I slept soundly, completely at peace with what I was about to do and knowing my life would never be the same starting the next day.
Monday, October 12, was “D-Day.” I woke up at 5:30 a.m., anxious to be at work by 8, but the Director of Civil Rights told me to relax and come in around 10 instead. I got a call from one of my coworkers, who offered to meet me at the McDonald’s a couple of doors down from our building so we could walk in together. After we finished eating, another coworker from the Office of Inspector General (OIG) stopped by McDonald’s too and offered to walk back with us for support. As I entered the building, the guard greeted me warmly at the front desk. Up on the eighth floor, I went to my cubicle and, to my surprise, found flowers, cards, and a couple of gifts waiting, along with welcoming emails in my new email account from coworkers.
My first stop after settling in was the security office to get my new ID badge. As the security employee prepared to take my photo, he said, “Are you ready to take your photo, or would you rather use this one?” — holding up one of my modeling photos that had been shown at the mandatory meeting. I said, “Oh yeah, this one!” As the safety officer for my agency, I couldn’t just hide at my desk all day; I had to walk around and check on things, so I told myself, “I have to do my job.” I felt like I was walking in a parade that day, moving through the agency for everyone to see. Along the way, several coworkers with private offices stopped me to say, “You look great, and if you ever need somewhere to step away, feel free to use my office.” I thanked them, but told them I’d be fine. The rest of the day was wonderful, and I even had lunch with a few people.
I did have a couple of coworkers and friends who were upset that I hadn’t told them beforehand, since the director had asked me not to tell anyone, out of concern the news might leak early. Once I explained, they understood and forgave me. A couple of people asked, “Why didn’t you make it easier for us by keeping the name Tony, just spelled with an ‘i’?” I told them, “Make it easy for you? I’m the one who has to answer to a new name all the time and start writing and signing emails as Karen.” I told them it was harder for me than for them, and that this is who I’ve been, deep down, my whole life. I then shared the story of my mother telling me that, if she’d had a daughter, she would have named her Karen. In that moment, I knew exactly who I was meant to be. My friends and coworkers understood then why I’d chosen the name Karen. That day, I was even told I could leave work early to celebrate my big day back. As I left, I kept thinking to myself, “Wow, what an amazing day. I did it!”