A prescription for change

At 54, former surgeon Dr. Dana Beyer is tall and dignified. With a persona that radiates unflappable efficiency, she busily paces about her Chevy Chase home on a Saturday morning an hour before canvassing the neighborhood in preparation for the bid she is making for the District 18 seat in the Maryland House of Delegates. But for Beyer, the upcoming Maryland delegate elections aren't just about securing a seat in the state legislature; they're about creating a world of opportunity. If successful, she will be the first US transgender person elected to a state legislature.

Although she is accustomed to eyebrow raising and discomfort, Beyer unquestionably attributes the attention she has inspired to her uniqueness. "I'm getting the most press of all the candidates," she remarks wryly, and, she admits, her transition has put her at a decided advantage for the race.

A struggle within

Born and raised as "Wayne" into an orthodox Jewish family New York City, Beyer has long been compelled by social issues and politics. She experimented with political affairs as an adolescent, although she quickly found herself disenchanted by the unfurling of national events. "I lost my faith in the political process when Bobby Kennedy was shot," she explains. Beyer went on to attend Cornell University in 1974 followed by the University Of Pennsylvania School Of Medicine in 1978, after which she specialized in ophthalmology, the study of eyes. She traveled abroad to expand her practicing experience in distant locales such as India and Nepal. But all the while, she felt herself restricted by the feeling that she was a woman in a man's body, a byproduct of DES, a hormone drug taken by her mother during pregnancy.

Beyer's longtime struggle over her sexual identity at last caught up to her three years ago when she resolved to transition. According to her campaign website, Beyer's decision to change stemmed mainly from the self-proclaimed discovery of inner courage which she says occurred after 9/11 attacks, coupled with a need to live what she refers to as an "authentic life." Today, she exudes confidence and easily discusses the topic as she sits casually at her dining table, pausing to scratch her 100 pound Labrador who lopes in and out of the room. "I've become much more comfortable," she affirms. With her initial obstacle surmounted, Beyer finds that she is now capable of directing her energies towards social progress. She has been involved in many groups, such as Equality Maryland and The National Center for Transgender Equality, two groups aimed at GLBT equal opportunity. "Politics seems like a natural outgrowth for me," she says. "I've lobbied in Annapolis before; I feel like I can do this." Beyer's political platform is distinctly liberal, with a comprehensive outline of her allegiance available on her website. Amongst the issues which she emphasizes are healthcare, energy and education.

Hitting the doors

Beyer's approach to campaigning is a method that is as old fashioned as she can possibly manage: door-to-door knocking. "I'm out every day," she notes proudly. She adds that voter contact is "essential, even more so than fundraising, despite the fact that I've been out in ninety-five degree weather." This dedication is also partially due to Beyer's acknowledgement of a significant campaigning factor: the difficulty of practicing state-level politics in Maryland. "We live in the shadow of the Capital. If it's not a federal election, it's hard to get people to pay attention," she says. But Beyer does not dislike picking up loyal votes. She describes the experience as "wonderful," not a tiresome necessity, and something she believes has been diminishing with the irrepressible tide of what she feels are high-tech, cyber-friendly politics which characterizes the impartation and reception of persuasion today.

Beyer's gradual foray into cultural trailblazing has been greatly due to local precedence, which the politician herself admits. Rich Madeleno, the prospective state Senator whose House position she seeks to fill, is a source of inspiration. "Rich Madaleno was the first openly gay candidate four years ago," she says. "Now, nobody cares because he's the budget genius." Similarly, Beyer believes that the prospects are positive enough to allow her an opportunity to prove herself without putting her gender identity into the equation. Although her bid has generated questions, Beyer remains unfazed. "When people hear about me, they want to know what I'm like as a person," she says. "But it's all about character. I could have hid it, but that's just not who I am. When people get to know me, they will say, 'she's authentic; we can trust her.'"

Getting the word out

As Election Day approaches, Beyer remains confident. "The buzz is very positive," she says. "It's important for people to know that I'm not running because I'm transgender. I'm not running because I want to wait around for transgender issues to come up, because then I'd be waiting around forever." She emphasizes that communication is key to success, irreplaceable to greater understanding. "The more people get to know me, the more they say, 'she's just like me.' I don't care about what others think. It's not good to worry about what others are thinking. If you project positively to people, they will respond positively. And oh yes," she pauses a moment before grinning and adding, "always smile. If you smile, you've won someone over."

Beyer leans forward expectantly in her seat, clasping her hands together in a hopeful gesture. Her eyes widen slightly in awe in profundity at the thought of spearheading change; at the thought of single-handedly diversifying the American legislature; at the thought of making history.