Transgender LMPD officer a trailblazer on force

For so long, he searched for the word.

To describe what he felt but dare not say aloud. To rationalize the thoughts that consumed his days. To understand why being Jennifer, despite his most fervent attempts, just didn't feel right.

On an afternoon late last month, he buttoned his uniform shirt, his silver name tag "J. Godfrey" glistening against the black fabric. It's the tag he'd worn since 2004 when he was hired by the Louisville Metro Police Department.

He had found his word, and he was ready to tell others.

Months of anxiety, years of stress had built up to this time: He was ready to tell LMPD leadership that J no longer stood for Jennifer, as it had for most of Detective Godfrey's life. It now stood for Jensen.

In the weeks that followed, Godfrey slowly revealed to his fellow officers that he is transgender — that for as long as he can remember, the sex he was assigned at birth did not match what he knew in his head and felt in his heart.

It's a first for the department. No officer in recent memory, by many accounts, has transitioned on the job. And while transgender visibility in the United States is at an all-time high, misunderstandings abound and disquiet persists.

A man in his personal life but closeted on the force, the dual life wore on Godfrey. He felt his coworkers deserved to know.

"It's not helpful to have to leave part of yourself at home," Godfrey said. "I felt like I was hiding something from them, and I hated that."

As he wrestled with the decision, he would often wake in the middle of the night, his mind racing.

Why am I putting myself through this? Who do I tell first? Will they even accept me?

The struggle of being different

Long before trans people graced magazine covers and stole scenes on television screens, before the word entered the public consciousness and presidential speeches, Godfrey was growing up in rural Indiana as Jennifer, knowing he was very different than other little girls but without the words to explain how or why.

He didn't feel right about being treated as female. He found no pleasure in the makeup and dresses that delighted his female friends. He liked his hair short and longed to shave his face like his dad.

Shirts never fit, always accentuating the breasts that felt so foreign. Hunching his shoulders to shroud them helped. He loved swimming and would stare with envy at the men who ran around shirtless, carefree.

He figured something was wrong, very wrong. It was a daily struggle to blend in.

"I didn't realize there was any other option," Godfrey said. "There was no one like me around."

By college Godfrey was calling himself a lesbian, but as the years passed he learned that label was an ill fit. It was closer, yes, but still not right.

'Why is this not working,' he thought. 'I feel like I worked so hard to get here.'

Years of questioning

He never spoke to a soul of his true feelings before college. The one friend he did tell his senior year barely acknowledged Godfrey's offhand comment that he wished he could have been born a man.

"What do you say to that?" Godfrey said.

Eight years ago, the word transgender first sparked his interest. And then, in 2010, it became clear. A friend was starting his transition from living as a female to male, and as he changed, Godfrey watched. Finally, someone who seemed like him.

Even so, it would be years before Jennifer made the move to Jensen. It took years to overcome the fear of rejection or disappointing and hurting his family and friends.

"I think I kind of pushed it away," he said. "I had to grow past my own stigma of what it meant to be transgender."

That realization brought with it new daily struggles that most people would never realize, remembers longtime college friend Rachel Rawlings. One time, he disappeared from the movie theater for a long while. He had stood outside the men's bathroom to make sure it was empty before he entered.

"What am I supposed to call you this year?" she would ask as they drove each year to their college reunions.

When paying the bill at dinner, Godfrey often uses cash, or asks his girlfriend to close out a tab. He wants to avoid problems with the name Jennifer on his credit card.

"He doesn't want to hurt anyone or disrupt anyone else's way of life," Rawlings said.

Little steps to change

In his personal life, that transition began about five years ago and moved at a "glacial" pace, he said. Best friends were given some of his more feminine clothes. He asked some to start using "he" and "him." At home, he was a man. At work, he was still Jennifer.

His girlfriend of two years, Tricia Henninger, watched him struggle switching between those two worlds. It drained him.

"It was hard to witness that," she said. "There was always this guardedness of 'who else is here?' and 'how are they seeing me?'"

Maybe he could wait until he retired, he thought. But then he imagined his life without the external pressures, without others' opinions.

"I knew I had to do it, even if it's the hardest path," he said. "I needed to be honest about who I am."

Hormone therapy started early last year and Godfrey underwent surgery to reduce his breasts and make his chest appear more masculine in October 2014. He's lucky to be able to afford the $9,000 surgery, he said, which is out of reach for many.

A post-operation moment brings tears to Henninger's eyes. She sat reading at Godfrey's home as he readied for the day. Through the doorway she quietly watched him put on a mustard yellow T-shirt he loved but never fit him well.

He stood at the mirror. A smile crept across his face. It finally reflected what he knew himself to be.

Understanding trans

Of the myriad of challenges trans people face, transitioning in the workplace can be among the most challenging.

Holly Knight, president of the support group TransWomen National, said that while the climate nationally and in Louisville is more tolerant and accepting of trans people than in the past, many still fear discrimination, even firing, at the workplace — not to mention higher homelessness rates, increased risk of suicide and violence and discrimination in housing, medical care and school.

Problems frequently arise when there's a misunderstanding of what transgender means, Knight said.

Though represented by the "T" in LGBT, the umbrella term has proved somewhat problematic. At the heart of the confusion for many is the difference between sexual orientation — lesbian, gay and bisexual — and gender identity.

While the former refers to whom a person is physically and emotionally attracted, the latter describes the gender that an individual innately feels best matches him or her.

Given the relatively small trans population — national estimates are scant but put the number at 0.3 percent of U.S. adults — not everyone knows a trans person, Knight said.

"It's difficult because it's different," Knight said. "They can't understand why a male would transition to a female. It's just people not grasping and perhaps not wanting to grasp."

Two words are key to helping those around trans people adjust and understand, Knight said: time and knowledge.

"As you gain knowledge and understanding you have less fear, less apprehension about what transgender is."

Key to transitioning in the workplace is open communication with supervisors or human resources, Knight said.

Looking for help, finding an ally

Last fall, Godfrey reached out to Sherri Toohey-Taylor, the city's human resources director, who worked with him to develop a timeframe for transitioning at work.

Metro Louisville Government implemented a policy in November 2014 that recognizes the concept of "gender identity."

The policy allows trans employees who have begun transitioning to use bathrooms "consistent with his or her gender identity" and to dress in line with their gender identity.

"If there's not a policy, sometimes an employee might not feel as willing or feel as comfortable to come forward with transitioning in the workplace," she said.

Working with Godfrey on his transition was "rather unique" for her, she said, given his public-facing role in public safety.

She and her colleagues developed a "Transgender 101" training to educate metro employees. Godfrey, as well as a few other metro employees who were transitioning last fall, helped create and edit the training that was sent to all LMPD members earlier this month.

"We can say we're inclusive," she said, "but we needed policy around it."

Telling the department

During an arrest in May, Godfrey approached the suspect to attempt a pat down.

"No, get your hands off me," she yelled as he drew near. It was the first time he had been so publicly read as a man while on the job. Problem was, he was not yet out as trans.

As layers came off in the spring time revealing a flatter chest and increased testosterone treatments deepened his voice, he knew waiting was no longer an option.

He went back to Toohey-Taylor and told her it was time.

Godfrey had come out on the department once before, when he decided to stop holding back about his personal life in 2009. He was met with support from his colleagues, he said, but he knew this new transition would ask much more of those around him.

In the days before returning to work earlier this month, Godfrey made a point to tell the five members of his flex platoon. He met with the chief and other command staff. He went before roll calls to explain why they were receiving the training from HR and opened the floor for questions. The first slide of the training module asked officers to be respectful and "challenge your own assumptions."

Some were vocal with questions. Some gave him a hug. One guy slow clapped. Others sat silent or confused.

Sgt. Pete Ropke has known Godfrey since 2007 and now works with him in the fifth police division. He knows some in the department are struggling with their pronouns but said the announcement has been well received.

"There's a deep profound need for this," Ropke said. "If Jen shows up as a professional and does the job he's assigned to do, there should be no issue."

Henninger said the men and women at work need to realize the courage it takes to open up to coworkers about a struggle most never face.

"I hope for him that he can just go to work as Jensen and do his job and not have the focus be on some label that society gives him so they can understand it," she said.

Godfrey chose the name Jensen so it would be easy for people to keep calling him Jen. Pronoun confusion is bound to happen, so he said he's trying to be understanding. Besides changing bathrooms, no longer patting down women and switching pronouns, Godfrey said not much will change.

"At the end of the day, I'll still show up to work. They'll still show up to work. And we'll do our job," he said. "I'll still wear the same uniform. This doesn't change anything about that."

Acceptance won't be universal, he knows, in life or at work. Members of the department might not understand or be comfortable with him. But his fellow officers are loyal. And so far, most have seemed willing to listen.

Either way, J. Godfrey will keep putting on the badge.

Reporter Matthew Glowicki can be reached at (502) 582-4989. Follow him on Twitter at @MattGlo.

Transgender resources

There are a number of organizations dedicated to educating the public on trans issues and advocating for the community.

National Center for Transgender Equality

PFLAG

Transgender Law Center

Transitioning in the workplace

For trans employees

- Check if your employer has a diversity statement that includes gender identity or gender expression

- Communicate with supervisor or human resources well ahead of the transition

- Be patient; give others and yourself time to adjust

For co-workers

- Give yourself time to adjust because you're going to mess up

- Don't ignore the trans person because you're afraid of saying the wrong thing

- Realize gender identity is different than sexual orientation

- Don't fixate on trans peoples' genitalia or which bathroom they use

- Educate yourself on the trans community

Source: Holly Knight, president of support group TransWomen National