DeeDee & Helen—A Trans Love Story, Part II by Mary Gelfand

Part 1 was posted yesterday

Being a lifelong spiritual seeker, DeeDee began searching for a church community where she could be herself.  Fortunately, she found a Unitarian Universalist Church which had long welcomed the LGBTQ community.  DeeDee felt very welcome in this community and it was there that I first met her, in the fall of 2002. 

At that time I was doing a lot of teaching around paganism and goddess religions.  DeeDee started signing up for my classes and we became friends.  She was the first trans person I came to know deeply.  Much of my understanding of the struggles trans people face comes from my relationship with DeeDee.  For example, in one class I taught, students were asked to engage in an activity that involved braiding 3 pieces of yarn together.  Most of the students were women, and they immediately began braiding.  I took time to teach the one man in the class how to braid, and turned to find DeeDee at my elbow.  She took me aside and shyly whispered—”I never learned how to braid.  It’s not something that boys are taught.  Can you help me?”  This came in the category of “It never occurred to me,” and over the years DeeDee corrected both my assumptions and my language around what it meant to be trans.  I was always grateful for her wisdom and insight.     

A few months later, DeeDee asked if she could join the Wiccan women’s circle I was leading.  I immediately said yes as I sensed that there was more involved here than a desire to engage more deeply with the Goddess.  It never occurred to me that the other women in my group might have a problem with welcoming a transgender woman into circle.  But no one said anything and the group continued to meet regularly. To me, my acceptance of DeeDee into my women’s circle didn’t seem like a big deal.  There was room for another woman, and her interest was sincere.  I learned that seemingly small gestures can have a major impact, especially for individuals who are marginalized.  DeeDee subsequently told me how important our acceptance was to her.  It gave her a safe space to continue exploring how the feminine was manifesting in her emerging life.  We became the Circle Sisters. 

In the summer of 2004, DeeDee underwent cosmetic surgery and gloried in her new breasts.  She and Helen wanted to marry, but since same-sex marriage was not legal in 2004, she asked me if I would perform a hand-fasting for them.  I pointed out to her that as far as the state of Louisiana was concerned, she was still carried the gender she was assigned at birth.  And there was no legal reason why DeeDee and Helen couldn’t marry, assuming she was willing to sign the license with her legal name.  With the assistance of our minister, DeeDee and Helen were married at First UU Church in September of 2004.  I was privileged to assist the minister with the ceremony, and the Circle Sisters served as attendants.  Helen and DeeDee walked down the aisle together, both resplendent in white wedding gowns.    

In December of 2004, Helen and DeeDee were scheduled to travel to Thailand where DeeDee would complete her gender reassignment surgery.  A week or so before their departure, Helen, who is very intuitive,  said that she didn’t feel right about this trip—the timing was wrong and they needed to postpone it.  DeeDee agreed.  Had they made this trip, DeeDee would have been two days post-surgery when the tsunami hit Thailand on Dec. 26, 2004.  At the time I was, and continue to be, fascinated by both the strength of Helen’s intuition, and the trust DeeDee placed in her partner.  As I came to know both of them better, I was awed by the strength of the bond between them.  What started as friendship grew into a soul deep love that I imagine many cis individuals might envy.  And I learned that love is love is love regardless of how society views it.  

In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, flooding the whole city and surrounding suburbs.  DeeDee and Helen’s home was not flooded but DeeDee witnessed it burn to the ground in a gas explosion.  They evacuated to Memphis, where they opened a new chapter in both of their lives.  Here, where no one knew her, DeeDee could begin anew and live fully as her authentic self.     

As usual DeeDee threw herself into new activities.  She joined the League of Women Voters and the Tennessee Equality Project.  She became a ham radio operator.  She undertook training as an EMS at a local Community College.  Sadly, she was never able to work as an EMS as she was diagnosed with abdominal cancer shortly after the course was completed. 

From this diagnosis in 2008 until her death nine years later, DeeDee struggled with cancer—periods of remission alternated with recurrences.  She eventually had five surgeries.  At one point she told me that she was the ‘healthiest sick person’ her doctor knew.  After her first surgery, DeeDee shared that the doctor’s had discovered a vestigial uterus within her abdomen.  This discovery affirmed her identity and her belief that she had always been a woman trapped inside a man’s body.

In 2011 she was well enough to travel to Maine with Helen to participate in the celebration of my handfasting and marriage.  The next day, five of the original nine Circle Sisters gathered to share one last ritual.  By unanimous consent, it was a beautiful healing ritual. 

DeeDee died on August 2, 2017.  In a last act of support to the transgender community and the cause of increasing knowledge, she donated her body to medical research.  A few of the Circle Sisters traveled to Memphis to participate in DeeDee’s memorial service.  At its conclusion, we walked to the center of the bridge across the Mississippi River which was adjacent to the church.  Her remains were thrown into the same river that received her pre-transition wardrobe in 2001.  It seemed a fitting end.

As I was leaving their house after the memorial service, Helen pointed to a pile of objects and said that DeeDee wanted me to have these.  On top of the pile was the handwoven triangular shawl over which we first met fifteen years earlier.  The shawl now resides in my sacred space and brings me some of the comfort I hope it provided DeeDee. 

In the eulogy I wrote for DeeDee I described her as a rare and exotic flower.  She was one of the most courageous, intelligent, and strong-willed individuals that I have ever known.  Over the years of our friendship, she taught me about the trans experience, and happily corrected my language and assumptions as I explored the nuances of being a trans ally.  My life was immeasurably enriched and my understanding expanded by welcoming her and Helen into my circle of friends.  I admired Helen’s commitment to the individual she fell in love with and her willingness to continue to provide love and support as that person sought her true authenticity and became a woman.