The Right to Work: Job fair connects people to employers 

Komiko* has been applying for jobs, but so far, she’s gotten no offers.

What’s holding her back? Certainly, not lack of education or experience—having previously worked as a computer animator, Komiko is now studying for her master’s degree.

This isn’t a case of appearance discrimination either. She’s gorgeous.

And it’s not that she’s shooting too high. She would be happy getting a part-time job as an office assistant or bank teller.

“Maybe I should be looking for something better, but maybe I’m not supposed to have better jobs, maybe I’m not very good,” she says, struggling to articulate her own dilemma. “There’s this underlying attitude.”

Dressed in tailored, pinstriped suit with loafer pumps, and her hair pulled back in a low, slick ponytail, Komiko looks like she could be a contestant on The Apprentice. Only her manga-inspired alias and bassy voice hint at another life. Just a year ago she transitioned, though she says she’s been female since she was born. Like many transgender women, she has struggled to find work.

Research is scant, but surveys indicate that the unemployment-underemployment rate for transgender women may be as high as 65 percent, says Marcus Arana, a discrimination investigator for the San Francisco Human Rights Commission.

In an effort to address the problem, San Francisco Transgender Empowerment, Advocacy, and Mentorship (SF TEAM) organized the Transgender Job Fair on March 22—the first ever event of its kind. Held at the San Francisco Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Community Center, the fair attracted some two hundred job seekers, as well as representatives from companies such as Good Vibrations, Jewish Vocational Services, Macy’s, Verizon, and UCSF.

SF TEAM Co-Chair JoAnne Keatley says historically, transgender people have been shut out of the workplace because of discrimination. According to surveys collected at the fair, fifty-three percent of the attendants said they had experienced employment discrimination based on their gender, and thirty-two percent said they experienced similar discrimination based on their sexual orientation. Before the Gender Non-Discrimination Act of 2003 was enacted, transgender bigotry was legal in California. Only five other states—Minnesota, New Mexico, Rhode Island, Illinois, and Maine—have transgender-inclusive anti-discrimination laws. That means in forty-four states a transgender person could legally be denied work of fired for no valid reason.

Seventy-two municipalities, including San Francisco, have also passed anti-discrimination laws. Annually, the San Francisco Human Rights Commission receives thirty to forty complaints of housing discrimination and ten to fifteen cases of employment discrimination based on gender identity. Arana believes the numbers are low because many transgender people are unaware of their rights. In addition, he says, as with other forms of discrimination, fear of retaliation is an impediment to filing a complaint. “Retaliation is forbidden by law, but employers will find creative ways to do so. California is an at-will state, so you can be fired for any reason as long as it’s not based on anything prohibited by law.”

Discrimination takes many forms. For example, it could be as blatant as spouting epithets or questioning what bathroom a person should use, or as subtle as using the wrong pronoun to address a person or even exuding negative energy. Keatley has heard of interviewers who refuse to shake hands with transgender job seekers and doubt their ability to get along with co-workers.

Alejandra Cruz has experienced obvious prejudice during her job search. She applied for a cashier’s position at a mom-and-pop store in San Francisco’s Mission District, but says she was told, “We don’t want your kind. You’re not welcome here.” At other appointments with prospective employers she says she felt like an object. “You just feel that they want someone straight.”

Unlike other transgender women who as men attained significant levels of educational and employment experience, Cruz has always struggled. She worked at a nonprofit for a time but was laid off a year-and-a-half ago. She was evicted from her apartment and is now living in a hotel. The money she makes from prostitution keeps her from becoming homeless. “Some people think transsexuals want to go into prostitution, but it’s not by choice,” she says. “I have to do it. I want things. I want to get an operation. I don’t want to live under a bridge. I don’t want to steal.”

She knows she’s putting herself in danger. “I’m at risk of getting sick,” she says quite matter-of-factly. She whispers, “Last week a client kidnapped me. He dumped me in Hayward and I had no money to get back home.”

Despite such trauma, Cruz maintains an upbeat attitude. “At this point I’ll do whatever. I don’t want to be homeless.” After picking up some applications at the job fair, she says, “This gives me hope that some workplaces accept transsexuals.”

More Than Qualified

Joey Jimenez has skills and experience. In the Navy, she traveled the world. More recently, she has worked as a desk clerk at a residential hotel. “My employer admitted to me that when she first met me, she was reluctant to hire me, not because of the way she felt, but because she was afraid of how the public would view me,” Jimenez says. “I had to prove myself to them. I got moved around to different hotels, and wherever I went business went up. Different types of people saw me and felt that they would be more accepted.”

Jimenez recently left the job and went home to Fresno to take care of family business after her parents died. Even though she knows it would be easier to find work if she dressed like a man, she says that’s not an option. “I feel comfortable as I am. I’ve been this way since I was a young girl. … My parents accepted me, but I felt that deep down, they were a little—not ashamed—but when I was around, well let’s just say they wouldn’t invite a lot of people over. You know what I mean?” she says with a slight grin.

In applying for jobs, Jimenez knows she’s been passed over because of her gender. “A lot of places are not open-minded. They look and they assume,” she says. “In the past, I would walk in hotels to inquire about positions, and they would say they don’t need anyone. But I had a feeling. … When I walk out, I always look back to see if people are huddling together and pointing. That’s always a clear sign.”

Even so, Jimenez feels San Francisco is the best city for transgender people to find jobs. Even though she’s applying for jobs she is overqualified for, she isn’t complaining. “I just want to get my foot in the door and then progress,” she says. “I do feel I deserve more, but the reality as far as society is concerned, is that there is still a stigma. I have to show people, prove myself. I can’t give up. We’re the founders. Now the door is more open. If I stopped now, what’s that saying to my sisters? It’s telling them to give up.”

Keatley says along with transphobia in workplaces, in some cases, transgender women and men fail to advance in their careers because they underestimate their own value. “When you are told as child and adolescent that being transgender is weird, bizarre, shameful, you internalize it.”

Keatley, who has a master’s in social work and is now the project director for UCSF’s Health Studies for People of Color, adds, “What’s helped me personally is reconnecting with my family. Once you have their support, you don’t feel alone. You feel valued. It helps reinforce your self-esteem. But getting there is a life-long process.”

Another problem for younger people transitioning is the lack of role models, Keatley says. “There is a flight of successful transgender people from the community because of transphobia. If you can pass, if you can function in the day-to-day, non-transgender world, you seek that sense of safety.”

Doing so may be easier for men, says Arana. “Many times transgender women have a harder time gaining acceptance, whereas no one sees me as a woman in a man's suit. The high unemployment rate is the result of lookism, transphobism, sexism. It’s not that transgender women are underskilled. We know of CEOs who become secretaries. When they transition they lose their social status, their work status, and are put in feminized positions.”

Anecdotally, Arana says, women who pass do better and have an easier time finding work. Twenty-four-year-old Komiko, who transitioned a year ago, says when she goes to interviews people assume she is a girl. “For me it’s comforting to be called she, her. I don’t announce that I’m transgender.” But that doesn’t mean she has it easy. “When you apply for jobs you need references. A few places called my old job and asked do you know so and so, and they would say, ‘Yeah, he used to work here.’ They would come back to me and I would have to explain.”

She’s also struggling to conform to people’s expectations. “Going to an interview is different as a guy versus as a girl. Now, I’m not sure how to talk and act in a male environment. Guys are more like, ‘Whasup? Did you see so and so? Da da da.’ They kind of objectify.”

Komiko, who is half Native American and half Scottish and lived on an Indian reservation, adds, “I grew up trying to be like that, but I did not fit in.”

*Alias used to protect identity.