Good evening, my name is Andrea Trenaman. I attended last year’s forum but did not have a chance to speak. Before I begin, I want to thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to hold this forum. Meetings between constituents and representatives are important and I’m glad this body has made it a priority.
I want to call attention to something uncomfortable for me: my facial hair. I was reluctant to speak before you today because of it, and I find it embarassing to be in such a public setting with visible stubble.
You may be wondering why I didn’t simply shave it off. How could I expect to be taken seriously as a woman if I can’t keep up with such a basic task? I will do my best to explain.
There is a process called electrolysis used to permanently remove hair. It involves the insertion of a probe into individual hair follicles. It requires hair that is both visible and protruding enough to easily be gripped with a pair of tweezers. It is a sick irony endured by many women with hormone imbalances that we must grow out our facial hair in order to have it removed.
Each hair follicle is covered in a brine mixture near the root, and when the probe reaches it, a small electrical current is run through the brine. This causes it to break apart into other chemicals, with one of those chemicals being sodium hydroxide, known better by its more common name, lye. This kills all of the cells and supporting blood vessels in the root. It also agitates the nerve, which means the process manifests as a sharp, localized sting. This is repeated over, and over, and over. A pause, anticipation, a sting. You wince. You sweat. You think about grabbing the probe from the electrologist. But you don’t. You sit there, and you endure, and repeat to yourself that it’s a privilege you have the time and money available to afford that service, even if you don’t always believe it.
Then your hour is up, and you return home. You shave, and you grimace when you see the welts left behind by the probe, and you savor the few days of having a smooth face. Because you know you have to grow it out again for next week, and that the cycle will continue for a year or more before you’re finally done.
Last year, bills were introduced that assumed things about the trans community, especially about women in the trans community, like me. It assumed that our existence is a threat to other women, and sought to write us out of the legal system entirely. It did this with the same faulty logic that one might use when seeing a woman like myself with visible facial hair, which can happen to any woman with a hormone imbalance. They were written by and supported by people who have no idea how much pain, how much turmoil, how much maddeningly slow progress is associated with a gender transition. And so I come before you today, embarassed by a body I’m still making my home, to tell you that you do not understand us, and that we are more than willing to share our lived experiences with you so you may write laws that better serve the needs of all Alabama citizens.
Thank you for your time.