A new woman in Rapid City: a South Dakota city councilman and Air Force veteran transitions to female, preparing for a new life in a conservative Midwestern town.

Tom Murphy might just be the most genteel member of Rapid City, S.D.'s city council. He faithfully attends meetings, votes his conscience, and rarely butts heads with other officials. "I say a few words and get on with the business," says Murphy, 48, whose political approach has gotten him reelected twice since 2000. "I've been kind of hiding all my life."

Not anymore. The 22-year Air Force veteran surprised this decidedly Republican Great Plains town in March when he announced plans to undergo sex-reassignment surgery. He will legally change his name to Marla. In doing so he has become one of the only openly transgendered elected officials in the United States and the only person in the world to change genders while holding office, according to activist groups. "It's time for me to live my life," he says. "I'm tired of hiding. Now people can see me for who I am."

Murphy--who has never married, considers himself asexual, and still prefers to use male pronouns when referring to himself--insists that his transition is a deeply personal decision. He began cross-dressing at age 7, wearing his sister's clothes while hiding in a closet. Teased at school for walking and sitting like a girl, he became introverted. "I suppressed my female side and built up barriers, walling myself off from everyone," he remembers. Murphy continued to struggle with his identity and to cross-dress during his time in the military. He wore panties and nylons under his uniform and, once he rose in rank, cross-dressed in the privacy of his own room. But routine barracks inspections were fraught with tension because he often kept women's dresses hidden in his locker. He remembers periodically "purging the supply" by throwing the clothes away. He would eventually buy more and repeat the cycle.

But by the late 1990s, he'd made on-line contact with other transgendered people and begun to plan for his transition. He retired from the military in 2000 and joined the city council. "He is the inevitable wave of the future," says Sandra Cole, a gender specialist and professor at the University of Michigan's medical school. "Now the presence of transgendered people is no longer a figure of speech, no longer an anomaly. He will leave a footprint or handprint for those who follow."

Murphy is definitely paddling uncharted waters in Rapid City. A tourist, town located in the western half of the state near Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills National Forest, the city has no gay bookstore, gay coffeehouse, or gay district to speak of. One gay bar is located a few miles outside of town. The city counts 89,000 residents, but only 82 same-sex couples were willing to identify as such in the 2000 U.S. Census. It is neither geographically nor politically that far from Laramie, Wyo., where gay student Matthew Shepard was killed in 1998, or Humboldt, Neb., where Brandon Teena, a young transgendered man, was killed in 1998--both victims of hate crimes.

"The vast majority of gay people in Rapid City are deeply closeted," says Mike Coats, a gay activist in town, adding that Murphy could very well become a target for right-wing hate groups. "There's a very strong radical religious voice that screams a lot in Rapid City. Not a lot of people counter that. It makes what Tom is doing that much more courageous."

Having taken female hormones for 18 months and undergone some other treatments, Murphy has experienced physical changes. His shoulders have rounded. He has gained weight in his hips and legs. His hair and skin are softer and shinier. He has shaved his mustache, and after years of military haircuts, his light brown hair has grown out to frame his face in a soft style. Thanks to a year of laser treatments, his facial stubble has dissolved. He has also developed breasts, which, until now, he concealed under loose-fitting shirts. In April he started wearing women's clothes and makeup in public, accenting his new shape and features. He hopes to have sex-reassignment surgery in the next three years. "I won't dress [in women's clothing] when I go to city council meetings," he says. "I don't think people are ready for that."

Murphy has the support of the mayor and some council members; those who oppose him have not yet done so publicly. His decision has not generated a single negative letter in the local newspaper. "I respect Tom for having served his country and for having the guts to come out," says city councilwoman Martha Rodriguez. "Whether you're gay, heterosexual, transgendered, or whatever, as long as you think responsibly and look out for the good of Rapid City, that's what's important." Still, she agrees that the town's conservatives will likely "make life a living hell for him."

Were it not for the issue of same-sex marriage and the national proliferation of "defense of marriage" acts, aimed at denying same-sex couples legal unions, Murphy says he might never have come out. He was so offended by a bill in the South Dakota legislature that would ban marriage for gay and lesbian couples that he traveled to the state capitol in Pierre in January to testify against the measure, and he identified himself as a member of the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered community. "I love this country, and we've always moved toward equality, but that bill was about hate," he says. "I don't consider myself brave; I'm just doing what I need to do."

Vanessa Edwards Foster, chair of the National Transgender Advocacy Coalition, disagrees: "He's remarkably gutsy. Tom Murphy will be, in essence, a 24/7 advertisement for the transgender community, out there full-time, representing us. He is a pioneer."

Letellier is a freelance writer based in San Francisco.