Five people selected by Phoenix Pride to participate in OUTdayPHX tell their stories.
By Glenn Gullickson

Pamela Anders
Becoming a truck driver helped to accomplish her goal of transitioning
Pamela Rose Anders moved around the country and even worked as a truck driver to hide the fact that she was changing her gender identity, but after attending OUTdayPHX last year she knew that it was time to tell her story.
Anders completed a book that she was writing about her journey, and this year she was among the five people who were selected to tell their stories at the third annual local event that observes National Coming Out Day.
It was after attending the same event last year that Anders decided to finish the book, Gypsy Moon, which was released in September. "It's about my transition from a male truck driver to a female truck driver," she said.
Anders said she always knew that her body didn't match her gender, but it wasn't until she was in her mid-50s that she started her transition.
"It's something you live with your whole life, wondering why you're this gender when you're supposed to be the other gender," she said.
It was 2005, when Anders — then known as Philip — was working as publisher of a business magazine in Colorado Springs and confided in a colleague about the plans to transition. The man "blabbed it around town," Anders said, and soon the magazine suffered as advertisers pulled out and writers quit. Anders' second marriage crumbled.
Anders said that she had few choices for employment, but she loves to drive and truck drivers were in demand.
Unlike an office job where people would notice changes in a coworker, truck driving offered the benefit of some cover. "Every day I'd be in a different truck stop," Anders said. "It was a perfect job for someone transitioning."
Still, Anders was concerned about dealing with other drivers. "I expected them to be rude and crude and mean and violent," she said. But other than a few incidents, she found the people she met on the road to be receptive. "No one cares what you look like as long as you drive safely and get the freight delivered on time," she said.
Between driving assignments that could last for three weeks at a time, Anders lived in Los Angeles, where she completed the transition. By 2007, Anders was moving again, this time as a female to Portland, Ore. She said she always had a fascination with the law, so she studied to become a paralegal.
She also worked as a cocktail waitress. "That's where I really started enjoying being one of the girls," she said.
In 2009, Anders moved to Phoenix, in part because she has a daughter who lives in Arizona. She also has two sons who live in Texas.
But she was in the closet again. "I didn't want to out myself," she said. "I lived, dressed, acted and talked as any other woman." But she thinks people may have guessed that she was transgender.
Then Anders attended OUTdayPHX and heard others tell their stories. "Those people did something very courageous in coming out to their family, friends and coworkers, and paid the price, but they were OK with it," she said.
"I started feeling a little selfish," she said. "I felt very guilty about not pushing my book. It does have a good message about courage and inspiration."
Anders said she has found co-workers at her law office and friends from her motorcycle group to be supportive.
"It's amazing. I was so afraid of what people would think," Anders said. "Everything came out OK. I didn't lose any friends. No matter how scared you are, you'd be surprised how much acceptance you get."
Now 62, Anders said she hopes her book gets into the hands of others going through transition. "Hopefully the book will prevent one suicide or give one person hope or inspiration," she said.
For more information on Anders, visit www.pampurrs.com.

Deanna Santarelli
Struggles at home and at school meant years of hell
The chance to help someone else is reason enough for Deanna Santarelli to tell her coming out story at OUTdayPHX— but it's not easy.
"Mine is not a pretty story," she said. "I went through probably six years of hell."
Santarelli said she was 14 years old and attending the ninth grade in her hometown of Ohioville, Pa., when she realized that she liked a girl. "I didn't know what ‘gay' was," she said. "To me, it was the normal thing."
Her parents were born again Christians, and when Santarelli came out they sent her to preachers and psychiatrists. Her parents threatened to throw her out of the house or send her to live with relatives. They didn't let her sleep in the same room as her two sisters.
Things weren't any better at school. "I told one friend at school and it spread like wildfire. I was tortured," Santarelli said.
After her 15th birthday, Santarelli ran away with her girlfriend, but they were quickly caught and forbidden from seeing each other.
Santarelli said only her younger sister stuck by her. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here," she said. "I was almost a suicide statistic."
Santarelli said that going to work at her family's sub shop gave her the opportunity to heal the rift with her parents, since the job meant they had to spend time together. "Without that, we never would have had a relationship," she said.
Santarelli, 41, moved to Phoenix about two years ago and is looking for a job after recently completing a pharmacy tech program.

Jason Green
College was liberating experience for gay man in Alabama
Video is one of Jason Green's favorite ways of communicating, so that's how he chose to tell his story for OUTdayPHX.
Green's video traces his coming out at college in Alabama to his life in Arizona.
After growing up in Frisco City, Ala., (population 1,200), Green attended Troy University, where his life changed. He'd been afraid to come out because of how he was raised in the church, but after joining a fraternity, he met other out gay men for the fist time.
"Because of those friends, I had the courage to acknowledge it to myself and go back home and tell my family," Green said. "It was only because of that group that I am now comfortable about who I am."
Green, 39, said has a good relationship with his family, but he realized that he needed to leave his home state. "Alabama is not a state for an out gay black man," he said.
When he came to Phoenix to attend graduate school, Green brought along his boyfriend, Chris Stevens. Fourteen years later, the men are still together and live in Avondale. Green works at Xerox, which he said is a gay-friendly employer.
"Coming out has been one of the greatest things that happened to me," Green said. The experience motivated him to write a book, The ABCs of Coming Out, which uses the alphabet to outline what Green called "things you should know before you disclose."
Green also is a facilitator for Man2Man, a program of the Southwest Center for HIV/AIDS that promotes sexual health. He is founder of the local group United Gay Informed Men of African Descent, a weekly discussion group.

Erin Clawson
Finding a community is benefit after coming out
Erin Clawson has never been to a Rainbows Festival, but she'll make her debut at an LGBT event in a big way by sharing a poem at OUTdayPHX.
"It's all kind of new to me," Clawson said. "For the first time, I have a community where I belong."
Clawson said she likes to write to express herself, so when she learned about OUTdayPHX, she decided to share a free-verse poem she wrote earlier this year. "It's not anything fancy," she said. "It really just talks about who I am, my past."
Clawson, 31, who works for an online advertising company from her home in Chandler, called her coming out journey "really complicated."
She was raised in a religious family and she said she did what was expected. "I felt I had to grow up and get married and be responsible," she said. "I never considered being gay, it just wasn't an option."
Then she fell in love with a woman. "And then it all made sense," said Clawson, who is ending her three-year marriage.
The relationship with the woman didn't work out, but there was an upside. "Through her, I met an amazing group of women who are involved in the gay and lesbian community," Clawson said. "They helped me understand myself. It's been a real blessing."
In her poem, Clawson writes that others may question or challenge her, but not mock her. But Clawson said her family has been supportive.
"The reception has been so loving, and so kind and generous," she said. "A lot of people don't have the luxury of being accepted by their friends and family."

Erin Whitney
Following her heart with a heart-shaped tattoo
Erin Whitney used a tattoo to announce her coming out.
The heart-shaped tattoo in colors of the rainbow with the words "peace, love, happiness" is on display on the back of Whitney's neck.
For her coming out, Whitney said she posted a photo of the tattoo on Facebook. For OUTdayPHX, she wrote an essay about the experience.
Whitney, 39, grew up in Long Beach, Calif., and lived as her family expected. She said she entered into marriages with men more than once, but also dated women.
Six years ago she moved to Phoenix, where she works as an office manager.
Whitney said she was dedicated to her church. Then about a year ago she said a gay friend asked her a question. "He said to me: ‘How can you love God 100 percent if you only love yourself 50 percent?'" That set her on the path to coming out.
Her disclosure caused what Whitney called "a religious tantrum" at church. "The pastor said they were disappointed I had chosen that lifestyle," Whitney said. "I told them that's between me and God." She said she's found another church.
She got the tattoo in February and attended Phoenix Pride for the first time in April.
"I wear my pride tattoo with pride," she said. "Now my whole family knows." Although she had to explain the significance of the tattoo to some, Whitney said even older members of her family have been supportive and she thinks she may have helped inspire other relatives to come out.
Whitney said she has a partner who she met six months ago. "I'm at peace with myself. I'm actually happy," she said. "I hope to have a happy ending." -E
Echo Magazine is a sponsor of OUTdayPHX. -E