It was a documentary on the African-American chemist Percy Julian that got me started thinking about this. Percy Julian was born in Alabama in 1899. His parents sent him to DePauw University in Indiana. He wasn't allowed to live in the dorms, and stayed in a boarding house where the owner refused to feed him. At first he took his meals in the one diner in town that would serve him, but later got a job cleaning a frat house, where they let him sleep in the basement and gave him meals. He graduated first in his class, but couldn't gain admittance to graduate school. It took him three years of teaching at a black college before he got admitted to a Masters program at Harvard, but he was not allowed to pursue a PhD there. He eventually obtained his PhD in Austria.
Despite having made some important discoveries and publishing several papers, he had a great deal of trouble finding employment. In one letter, he wrote to his sister that it was always the same story. "They never had a black chemist working there, and are worried about how it will go." At one point, he had a job offer rescinded, because there was a town ordinance against having black people stay in the town overnight. Despite these difficulties, Percy Julian went on to become one of the important research chemists of all time, the first African-American chemist inducted into the National Academy of Science, and the second African-American.
Although Julian made many important discoveries, which led to thousands of useful and life-saving products; perhaps ironically, he discovered the first large-scale process by which estrogen and progesterone could be economically synthesized from soy beans.
Percy Julian's experiences with discrimination resonate with the experiences of trans people in more recent history. Particularly the idea that while the bosses and hiring managers weren't particularly prejudiced against Julian, they feared how it would impact on the organization, to bring in someone so different from the other employees.
Here we are today, with seeming freedom and seeming equality; but second class citizens, particularly in our medical treatment. For one thing, those of us who are male-to-female generally use Spiro, which is not a drug made for the purpose we use it for. Nobody is trying to make a better drug for us, because we are too small a market. Aromatase, a natural enzyme that converts testosterone into estrogen, would undoubtedly be a better treatment for our purposes. But there is no economic incentive for anyone to do research on how to synthesize Aromatase.
This is only one example of how trans people are the red-headed step-children of scientific study and medical treatment. African-American science students today are generally unaware of the struggles of their predecessors, who made their studies possible. When I read posts from young trans people, who are in college, and are more concerned with how to find a bathing suit that will let them go swimming with their friends, it strikes a chord. I don't know how many people have seen the recurring skit on Mad TV, where the old-time Civil Rights activist interviews the daughter of a deceased Civil Rights activist; and the daughter is all caught up in the modern world, and has no clue about the old struggles.
I couldn't have gone to college as a woman. Young trans people, pay it forward. Use this opportunity that you have to study biology, chemistry, psychology and medicine. Use your knowledge to do the work that will benefit people like you. Look at how much impact one person, Marcie Bowers, has had by doing this. If a dozen, or a score, or a hundred young trans people make a concerted effort to pay it forward – think of the difference you could make.
