Seemingly, it has been nearly four decades ago when Bobbie sent me the story about Phyllis Randolph Frye's story. The story was in the New York Times via Houston, Texas and represents why stealth was basically the only way to come out-back in the day. Unless you were blessed with incredible "natural" passing privilege.
Read on, (for Phyllis), It was the summer of 1976. As Bruce Jenner, 26, was celebrating his decathlon victory at the Montreal Olympics, Phillip Frye, 28, was admitting defeat in suppressing his gender identity. He, becoming she, had already lost a lot: He had been forced to resign from the military for “sexual deviation.” He had been disowned by his parents, divorced by his first wife and separated from his son. He had been dismissed from several engineering jobs.
And there was more:
In response, (to coming out) she got her house egged, her tires slashed, and her driveway spray-painted with obscenities. Teenagers openly mocked her, the engineering profession blackballed her and the federal government rejected her for a job because of her “desire to impersonate the opposite sex.”
In the early days of writing Cyrsti's Condo, one my fave rants was an "anti-stealth" one. Perhaps age really does "dim" the memory to protect the innocent-or the guilty as far as the transgender community goes.