WHAT'S IN A NAME?

 Much focus in our house at this time remains on the programme of transitioning that our recent arrival is undergoing.

In fostering it's a good idea to expect the unexpected, and for sure things keep coming out of the woodwork that are new to me, and frankly new also to the various professionals connected to the child. 

His school are great; they have a communal bathroom with nothing but cubicles, which he uses. But around town he has to plan his toiletting carefully as he's cautious about using "Gents". Luckily there are some individual cummunal cubicles in the car park behind the high street which are for males, females, wheelchairs and mothers and babies. And him. This problem had never ocurred to me before.

Similarly he tends to avoid school trips in case he's embarrased. He's ok at gatherings and parties because a) people go to the loo alone anyway b) his social circle know about his trans-ing and are cool.

He's opening up more and more with us about his decision. Actually it was no more a 'decision' to transit than any of us make a 'decision' about our height or the colour of our eyes. We're born that way, and he's as much a male rather than female as anyone else is black rather than white, or blonde haired rather than dark. He knows this, he's helped me understand this.

Tell you who struggles with the thing; beaurocracy. He needs all sorts of organisations to recognise his new name and impending new gender. We're having to change his bank account, his NHS details, his passport. We're having to change his school records so that his exam certificates are in his new name.

Then there's the question of who is responsible for overseeing all this paperwork.

It got complicated with lots of to-ing and fro-ing of "We'll contact so-and-so, can someone else write to the other lot?" So I put up my hand and did the dread thing; I volunteered to co-ordinate.

Anyone who's worked for a medium to big employer knows that volunteering to 'co-ordinate' people amounts to volunteering to do the whole lot yourself. And that's pretty much where I am.

I could write a War and Peace length blog on how the passport officeisn't anywhere near up to speed on people who want a new name. I understand that they have to be on the lookout for people wanting false identities for money laundering and all sorts. So they request all sorts of verification and they're not sure what they want or who they want it from. Then there's the problem that they're all working from home these days, and some people use that as an excuse for not getting things done, as in "I have been unable to get this signed off due to Covid restrictions".

Elsewhere I was rebuffed by one civil servant/pen pusher because I "Wasn't a professional". Hah! That one makes me spit blood; I'm professional to my bootstraps. I'm the lad's current parent to boot!

A big part of his needs has to do with how he's percieved. He's petrified that if his name is his old female name on his GP's records when he goes to the doctor they'll call that name out and he'll have to walk through a full waiting room of people wondering why he has short hair and wears trousers. So it's important.

Similarly I had to take issue with his dentist, who, when I accompanied him for a check up, asked me "Are you her grannie?" TWO big no-no's right there in four short words. Shame on them. This kind of jumping to lazy conclusions is thoughtless, stupid, needless and just plain wrong.

Still, that's some professionals for you.

The lad dosen't go out of his way to thank me or anything for my efforts, and I'm not looking for that anyway. It's just a matter of doing the right things for the right reasons, the right reasons being it meets his needs, and fostering is about nothing if it's not about meeting each child's needs.

Whatever those needs are.