Though this came out a personal journal entry, I thought the final question I asked myself was a question I haven’t seen asked enough, and I’m curious to hear other answers.
The idea of paper mirrors is something I’ve struggled with for a long time. I’m far from opposed to them—they’re a wonderful outlet for those who are just coming into their own identity, whatever it be. And I have always viewed telling a person’s story as key; it was my greatest goal whenever I’ve worked as a journalist.
However, what has always bothered me was how unable I was to find one that fit my own experiences. As a teenager then coming into the idea of identifying as a lesbian, I would seek out narratives with queer characters. Yet I never really found my experiences made authentic in them; the best I ever got was a sense of a culture, a place where I might belong. And eventually, part of me outgrew that need; I understood enough of the culture to at least partially ‘pass.’ And ironically, I did fit the lesbian narrative quite comfortably—I even have the unrequited best friend love in middle school. Yet I never really became attached to this mirror when it was held up to me, which makes sense: one of the compliments I have consistently received throughout my life was that I always seemed determined to be my own person and never be defined by others.
In coming into my transness, though, even that sense of culture leaves a great gap—ironically, the closest “paper mirror” is likely transientdesire, who also just happens to be one of my closest friends and helped inspire this blog. We were both looking for somewhere that fit us, the kind of femme, situated comfortably in the lesbian label for a good portion of your life, and without an easily identifiable trans narrative person.
Trans discussion and literature, then, becomes distancing instead of welcoming, a recent example of being the collection Nobody Passes. Out of the blue I received a copy of it from another genderqueer acquaintance whom I bonded with at a conference. I was thrilled to get it, and for good reason. By and large, it’s s good collection of differing perspectives on the act of passing from all over the spectrum.
But not one was an experience I felt rung true with me. In some cases, I was only a listener, learning about experiences through reading; in some, I could have been an active participant, but instead I felt stuck by the sidelines.
All of this really can be boiled down to the fact that paper mirrors make me uncomfortable mainly because I’ve never had one, and I wonder what that says about how the trans community constructs itself (or what it says about how much I project of myself on others, possibly). Paper mirrors become a Catch-22 sometimes: great if you can find it, but the act of finding one may be harder than you think.
For all the greatness espoused regarding the queer community’s multifaceted nature, the very nature of being trans restricts the paper mirrors that can ostensibly exist. Medicalization and gender roles place expectations and ideas. It becomes a problem of acceptability, where the non-normative is rejected for the acceptable.
So is it a responsible act to pass on mirrors that reject the norms which also ensure treatment? I would say so, for transformation can only begin by presuming acceptance of diversity from the start. But at the same time, what can be viewed as essential parts of the (American, at least) transsexual identity hangs on the whims of some doctors and a handful of guidelines. Would paper mirrors which sidestep this fact then be inadvertently leaving young trans consumers with the wrong impression? Again, my inclination is to say no, but I’m curious to hear what other people think.
