Community Member Spotlight: Bertie Brouhard
“I tell people I was made in Iowa and assembled in Nebraska, Wisconsin, Ohio, and California,” says Bertie Brouhard.
Bertie is a 6-foot-something blonde Norwegian transwoman. “Really, I’m an older Viking Princess,” she laughs. She has two sons and is a grandparent to four.
She is also the founder and facilitator of Openhouse’s transgender women’s support group. She welcomes all “mature trans women” to this peer-led group each month at the Center. She tells me that she came out as transgender some five years back.
“Coming out happened after I had a terrible bike accident. I’d been a long-distance cyclist for years—cycling all over the planet. Then one day I ended up in a halo brace for four months. It put me in stark touch with my mortality. I decided if I regained use of my body, I was going to change my gender, and I’d better do it soon.”
Within a month of scheduling her gender reassignment surgeries and telling her wife, she received divorce papers. “I knew that it would cost me my marriage and friendship of 40 years. We don’t communicate at all now, which is sad since I still love her. For her it’s a matter of betrayal. (To me) that’s not the deal we made when we married.”
Although one son is very accepting of Bertie, the other is not. “I think the one with a big brain doesn’t understand it at all. He doesn’t want me around his kids. For him, it’s just too difficult to explain to his friends and it’s not socially acceptable in his world. My other son has a big heart and he tells me that he continues to enjoy me as we do things together.”
Bertie’s sister, on the other hand, tells her that she prays for “him” and says she has gone through the five stages of grief about “his” revelation. “She didn’t invite me to my nephew’s wedding and sent a long letter telling why she couldn’t,” says Bertie. “I wasn’t hurt by not going to the wedding, I was hurt that she would think I would show up and take the attention from my nephew and his bride.”
Beginning as an engineer Bertie rose up the corporate ladder for most of her life. “I was fortunate to have all the advantages of a privileged white male. I didn’t earn them. Yet, I didn’t orphan my kids or run around on my wife either. But at age 60, I changed my agenda. I ‘jumped off the cliff’ and made a sharp turn left.”
Bertie says she knew fairly early that she looked at women much differently from her friends.
“I was more emotion-ally attuned to girls,” she says. “At 11 or 12, I went into my mother’s room and put on all her clothes and recognized myself. I feel most comfortable wearing women’s attire. However, I knew even back that to transition would cost me everything: family, career, community. I had chartered a course where I was a good student and good athlete. There was no time to explore this feminine side of myself. After we moved to California in 1979, everything was wonderful. I had a good marriage and a great career. Still, changing my gender became the big item on my bucket list. We lived in the valley, but when I came over to the city, I was Bertie. I would darken the shades and get ready for a big adventure— going to a movie dressed in women’s clothing!”
After the bike accident, Bertie visited doctors associated with gender reassignment surgeries. “I went to psychiatrists and psychologists as well. We each need ‘to pass’ to ourselves as well as to others. I had great mentors and wonderful support. I’ve never been happier than I am now even though I’ve paid an enormous price. My experience has been that you need money, thick skin, a sense of humor, good friends, peer support and a fearless, never-say-die attitude. There is a certain stigma—a mark put on transfolk, that they have a sickness or mental disorder because society doesn’t want to recognize us. By becoming who I truly am, I’ve messed with their value system and that’s a dangerous thing to do. But, I can’t predict whether someone will be accepting of my gender or not.
Doing her best to offer support and be an open trans-woman in San Francisco, Bertie has dedicated her life to volunteer work. “I want to do all I can to build community and to try to practice the ‘11th Commandment,’ ‘Thou shalt not give criticism or advice (laughs).’”
So, Bertie volunteers at her church, at The SF LGBT Center, the SF Night Ministry, Openhouse, and Davies Symphony Hall. “When I’m out in public, if someone looks long enough, I might smile and say, ‘You know you can’t catch what I have. It’s not contagious.’ I’m the first transgender person at my church, at the symphony store and often elsewhere and I feel the need to hold our banner high so that the next trans person has an easier time of it.”
In recent years, Bertie’s fearlessness took her on an eight-week driving trip across the country. She says, “I did my own personal ‘TransAmerica’ tour. I contacted people— relatives, friends, former customers, and co-workers. I would phone ahead and tell them I’d made some changes. My real purpose was to come out to family and friends. My take on this is that (most) people don’t care; they’re worried about their mortgage, their divorced daughter, or their receding hairline. You might be big news for about five minutes. You’re not the big deal you think you are.”
Living alone for the first time in her life, Bertie says she is not looking for a romantic partner. “I’m discovering what it is like to live alone, and I like it. I have really good friends at the symphony The Center, in my neighborhood, and at my church, and I’m very busy.”
The best life for Bertie is living here.
“What I love about California is the wonderful diversity of its people. I was very accepting from an early age, probably because I knew myself. Now at my advanced age, I might well be going through a second transition. I’m much more attracted to women than men. I think I’m a lesbian. One’s gender is quite separate from their sexual attraction.”
Emerald O'Leary
(aka Mary Anderson)
she/her/hers
Emerald O'Leary (aka Mary Anderson) of San Francisco, formerly of Ireland and London, passed away December 19, 2016 at Laguna Honda Hospice after a more than five-year battle with metastatic cancer of the breast and bone. O'Leary was an accomplished artist, actor, poet, writer, and executive assistant during her 28 years in San Francisco.
