“Let the Dandelions Grow: A Poetic Portrait of a Transsexual Journey and the Human Condition” by Lee Ann P. Etscovitz is exactly what its title promises and then some. It is a substantial collection of poetry that feels both intimate and expansive, rooted in one woman’s life yet constantly reaching outward toward the shared terrain of human experience. Written by a woman who lived the first sixty-five years of her life as a man, the book carries the weight of long concealment, hard-earned self-knowledge, and the quiet courage it takes to finally live in truth. Etscovitz was a professor and a therapist as well as a poet, and that combination shows itself not through academic heaviness but through emotional clarity and deep empathy. Her poems are accessible without ever being simplistic, thoughtful without being obscure, and consistently engaging.
What strikes the reader early on is how readable the poetry is. This is not verse that hides behind density or intellectual posturing. Instead, it invites the reader in with language that is clear, reflective, and often gently conversational. At times the poems are angry, and rightly so, because anger is part of a life spent at odds with one’s own body and with social expectations that leave little room for difference. More often, however, the tone is witty, amusing, even droll. Etscovitz has a sharp sense of irony and a humane sense of humor, and she uses both to illuminate moments that could otherwise feel unbearably heavy. There are poems here that will make the reader cry, not out of sentimentality but out of recognition, and others that will make the reader laugh, sometimes unexpectedly, in the middle of difficult truths.
At its heart, the book offers a vivid portrait of what it means to be transsexual, trapped for decades in a body that feels fundamentally misaligned with one’s inner self. Etscovitz does not romanticize this experience. She writes openly about secrecy, shame, longing, fear, and the exhausting effort required to maintain a life that looks acceptable from the outside while feeling false on the inside. Yet the poetry never reduces her story to gender alone. Again and again, the poems widen their scope to address what it means to be human, to long for authenticity, to fear rejection, to love imperfectly, and to search for meaning in the face of time.
This universal resonance is why the book echoes so powerfully with John Donne’s famous line, “Ask not for whom the bell tolls: It tolls for thee.” Although Etscovitz is writing from a specific transsexual experience, the emotional truths she explores belong to everyone. The fear of being seen, the pain of being misunderstood, the hope that love might ultimately prevail, these are not marginal feelings. They are central to the human condition. In reading her poetry, one is reminded that stories often labeled as “other” are, in fact, mirrors held up to us all.
The poems also delve deeply into aging and mortality. Having transitioned later in life, Etscovitz writes with acute awareness of time, of what has been lost and what has finally been claimed. There is a poignant tension between regret and gratitude that runs through the collection. She does not deny the sadness of years lived in disguise, nor does she allow that sadness to eclipse the joy of becoming herself at last. Aging, in these poems, is not merely decline but reckoning, a moment when truth becomes more urgent and pretense less tolerable. Mortality sharpens the need for authenticity, and that urgency gives the book much of its emotional force.
Formally, Etscovitz uses a verse style that is distinctly her own. She does not simply imitate contemporary trends, nor does she lean heavily on traditional structures for authority. Instead, her form feels organic, shaped by the rhythms of thought and feeling she is trying to express. The lines move with clarity and intention, supporting the content rather than competing with it. This formal confidence allows the poems to feel grounded and sincere, as if the language has found the exact shape it needs in order to speak honestly.
Understanding the life behind the poetry adds another layer of depth to the reading experience. Lee Ann Etscovitz underwent male to female sexual reassignment surgery in 2001 at the age of sixty-five, after decades of what she herself described as a charade. Raised in a small town in Maine, she sensed from early childhood that she was different, though she lacked the language to understand why. By adolescence, she felt uncomfortable among boys and at ease with girls, yet fear and embarrassment kept her silent. For years she lived a secret life, cross-dressing in private while outwardly fulfilling the roles expected of her. She married, raised three children, earned a doctorate, and built a respectable academic career, all while feeling profoundly divided inside.
For readers who do not usually buy poetry, “Let the Dandelions Grow” is still a book worth reading. It does not require specialized knowledge or a taste for abstraction. What it asks instead is openness, a willingness to listen to a life honestly examined and to recognize oneself within it. The dandelion of the title becomes a quiet metaphor for resilience and natural growth, something that persists even when conditions are harsh, something often dismissed yet stubbornly alive. In that sense, the book is not only a portrait of one transsexual journey but also a meditation on survival, dignity, and the human capacity to become, at last, who we are.
By the end of the collection, the reader is left not only with a deeper understanding of the transsexual experience but with a renewed sense of shared humanity. Etscovitz’s poetry reminds us that authenticity is not a niche concern but a universal longing, and that the courage to live truthfully, at any age, speaks to something essential in us all.
Lee Ann P. Etscovitz died on December 12, 2025, at the age of 90. Born in Houlton, Maine, and later relocating to the Philadelphia area in 1969, she carried with her both the sensibility of a small-town upbringing and the intellectual curiosity of a lifelong scholar. A graduate of Phillips Exeter Academy and Brown University, she went on to earn an Ed.M. in Educational Theory and an Ed.D. in Educational Philosophy and Organizational Behavior from Boston University. Over the course of her long career, she was an educator, a therapist, a poet, and a published author, roles that informed one another and found a shared purpose in helping others understand themselves more fully. She loved music and found enduring inspiration in the written word, which became both her refuge and her means of connection. That devotion to language and reflection permeates her poetry, where personal truth, professional insight, and hard-won wisdom come together to speak not only of a transsexual journey, but of aging, mortality, compassion, and the universal struggle to live honestly and meaningfully.
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