The happy ending story of Chiara Persico

I started my transition later in life; I was already 40 years old. For years, I had been living what we could call a double life—although I don’t like that term: in the morning I would wear men's clothes to go to work, and then, once home, I would change into women's clothes to continue my day. At first, it wasn’t easy to go out dressed as a woman, and I had to get used to it, thanks also to the support of my group of friends.

When I talk about my transition, I always use this metaphor: I was a bit like a climber scaling a mountain, reaching the summit with the flag, but then being afraid to plant it. I had wanted to transition for a long time, but something always held me back, and I remained there, suspended. Until one day, I decided to plant that flag and tell everyone who I really was.

Of course, I had to talk to my family: I had a great relationship with my parents, and they have always been very open-minded people, but even for them it took some time to process, especially for my father. When I decided to start my transition, I finally came out at work.

Some colleagues already knew, so what I did was speak first with my department head, the person I was in closest contact with, then with the manager at the time, who worked in logistics like me, and later with the HR department. I took a gradual approach to inform the areas that are obviously the most sensitive: family and work.

I knew very well that IKEA was already an open and inclusive environment, which helped me a lot on my journey. I always wondered how I would have felt if I had been in a discriminatory work environment.

My fears were more about colleagues: at the time, I had a coordinator role and feared that once I came out, I might lose credibility in their eyes. Fortunately, none of that happened; I received tremendous support from everyone, apart from a few minor incidents that I was able to handle on my own.

When I came out, thirteen years ago, IKEA didn’t yet have an official policy for transgender employees, but we can say they were already applying what would later become the official protocol: they immediately allowed me to use the women’s locker rooms and updated my badge with my new photo and name.

Then, once the legal paperwork for changing my name was completed, they promptly adjusted my contract, pay slips, etc. They also granted me additional leave days beyond those provided for medical procedures. What IKEA did in 2023 was simply to put into writing what they had already been doing, introducing their policy for transgender co-workers, which also includes six weeks of paid leave.

Over the years, things have fortunately changed. I believe that anyone who wants to begin the transition today has much more information available, there are associations that can guide you, and in general, it is easier for others to recognize your situation. I know I am fairly recognizable as a trans woman: I am very tall, and my voice has remained a bit deep. One thing that still happens—for example—is that I sometimes have difficulty making reservations over the phone; I always have to explain that I’m booking for myself, Chiara Persico, and somehow convey who I am.

But I understand that there is no malice, just a lack of information. I would like my documents to state that I am transgender; perhaps that would sometimes make things easier. I am lucky; I am very well integrated into society. I moved five years ago, and when I arrived, I was immediately welcomed. I am very active in my community, I am part of ANPI, and for some time now, I have become its president.

The people where I live know everything about me, about my past, also because I do not hide it, I have nothing to hide, and they have always welcomed me well. Much like what happened at work, it also happened here where I live.

We can say that my story is an excuse to tell a beautiful story, a story with a happy ending.