The Oprah Experience

  

 

by Katie Baratz

 

 

Forget my first kiss, my college grad, and my acceptance letters to medical school.  I can (roughly) pinpoint my most exciting moment to 4:03 PM, EST, on Friday, September 21, 2007, the moment my mother and I appeared before millions of viewers on the Oprah Winfrey Show.

Everything up until that point was a blur: the pre-show interviews, filming the lead-in montage in my West Philly apartment, getting picked up at the airport in a stretch limo, making a mess in the dressing room (only to be told I was no worse than Paris Hilton had been), even sitting with Oprah on the soundstage and answering her questions.  It wasn't until I was sitting in a living room with 20 newly-minted med school friends watching myself on TV that the enormity of my choice sank in, that the girl standing before America and declaring that she had a Y chromosome and undescended testes was me.

Only part of the exhilaration of those 10 minutes of air time comes from the personal pride I felt in going so public.  I'd told people before--friends, family, even rooms full of strangers at Planned Parenthoods and local colleges--but this was different.  Now everyone knew: my boyfriend's grandparents, my teachers, even the lady who developed my Christmas photos.  It took more strength, courage, and self-confidence than I could, or can, actually claim as my own.  This, then, is why the flood of complimentary emails, phone calls, and cards I received after the airing seemed so, well, and odd.

My appearance was not a testament to my ability to cope with my diagnosis, but rather the love, support, and encouragement I felt every time I disclosed to a new friend, voiced insecurities to an old friend, or shared more of my story with my boyfriend.  Most importantly, as I know you saw in the eyes of my beautiful mom, there is no way I would have been able to do what I did without having been raised by amazing parents who never gave me any indication that I should feel embarrassed or ashamed about who I am.

So what was it about that show that made me feel so proud?  You.  By 4:10 on that Friday, emails and phone calls from many of you began pouring out of the woodwork.  You told me stories that brought me to tears.  Some of you had just told childhood friends about your AIS.  Some of you bonded over the show with your children, partners, and parents.  Some of you felt inspired to rejoin the email circle.  Some of you used the show to talk about your bodies at yoga and church retreats with women you'd never met before.  Some of you felt like you could use the word "testes" for the first time.

Both the parents’ and the adult email circles heard from brand-new members who finally found the group and all the love and support that it shares.  To know that I was a small part of that blossoming of our tiny but tight-knit community was the most wonderful experience I've ever had.  That feeling alone is worth more than anything else I got out of going on Oprah.  Except maybe the chance to high-five Orpah because I do, indeed, have a vajayjay.

   Katie Baratz

Our gal Katie signs her upbeat emails
with love and “jazz hands”