Poet William Keohane opens up about his experience with gender transition

IN A residency on the southwest coast of Iceland, writer William Keohane is facing the sea as he opens up about documenting his experience with gender transition, through poetry.

“You’ve caught me on a very beautiful day in Reyjkjavik. We've had horrific storms for the past while, but this is the first day that the sun is properly out,” he says as rays of light brush his face.

Originally from Castletroy, William is the writer-in-residence in Ormston House, a cultural resource centre in Limerick. He also founded Trans Limerick Community, a peer support group in the region.

“Does it matter who listens? If they hear at all?” asked William to a sold-out crowd at the Belltable where he performed Boxing Day.

A 52-poem sequence, Boxing Day, offers a fragmentary glimpse into the experience of gender transition.

With a poem for each week of the year, the sequence documents a year of change, apprehension and grief. While questioning the relationship between reader and audience, it also highlights the interpersonal scrutiny of existing in the world as a trans person.

“All the poems are within a sort of box shape. It’s a metaphor for containment or compression,” he explains.

According to him, the process of writing the sequence has been quite slow - mirroring the excruciating wait trans people face to access gender-affirming surgery in Ireland.

In October 2022, a study conducted by Transgender Europe found that Ireland ranked lowest in Europe for availability and accessibility when it comes to trans healthcare.

To get an appointment with a specialist in Ireland, patients can be forced to wait between two and a half to 10 years – while the expected wait time is less than a year in most states.

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In November, a spokesperson of the National Gender Service reported 1,200 people in Ireland were on the waiting list to get a first appointment to initiate the process of gender-affirming surgery.

"So much of transition is related to time and waiting. In the Irish context, you really have to wait so long for an assessment, before you're even able to make the changes that you need to make in your life. It's almost as if you have to be given permission," he regrets.

William points out the experience of waiting for care is not exclusive to trans people, but is evidence of a system’s failure.

“Ireland has kind of historically exported its healthcare to other places,” he states.

In 2020, he underwent top surgery, a procedure which removes breast or chest tissue for transgender men and nonbinary people. For him, transitioning was about escaping pain.

“I think from a very young age, there were certain things that I gravitated towards that, as I got older, became less socially acceptable for me to do. And, that caused a lot of pain,” he recalls.

After a moment of reflection, he adds: “For me, transitioning was about escaping that pain and establishing a better life.”

To start testosterone, he had to go to London. And to get top surgery, he had to travel to Toronto – where his aunt looked after him. 

“She was able to be my person, it’s an immense privilege to have a person who’s willing to take time off to take care of you,” he shares.

In his poetry, William addresses the ideal type of man that some trans men might feel they have to be. This reporter can’t help but wonder: What ideal type of man did he feel he had to be?

“I suppose there's an expectation to be stoic and to not let any vulnerability show because it can be seen as not masculine, but that's not true,” he says.

William believes early on in transition, there is a certain desire to be seen as the man above all else.

“You might even compromise aspects of yourself that are your true self or are important to who you are. I think I try to do less of that now,” he confesses.

As he transitioned, he saw the face he had known being reshaped into a different form.

“It's enjoyable because you're getting the outcome that you want, and it's also disconcerting. It's funny because all our faces change when we get older. But when you're undergoing new hormones, it changes a lot quicker. Like all things, it was just something to get used to,” he explains.

William particularly liked growing a beard.

“From an objective standpoint, the beard is seen as masculine. My dad has a beard, so for me, I look more like him now. He even said that he was jealous of my beard because his has gone all white now,” he smiles.

If there is one thing he would like to know, it’s that he’s still learning.

“I make a lot of mistakes. I do speak on trans issues quite often, but I do get things wrong.”

As the conversation comes to an end, he concludes: “We’re not one person for our whole lives.

“You and I are going to have another interview in three years’ time, and I’ll be a different person.”