“Lived experience fights dirty.”

(Title from the always fabulous Cat and Girl.)

I always miss out on getting in at the ground floor of controversy.

So, Jasper at jasperswardrobe makes a post on critiquing Brain Sex Activism (ie. woman’s brain in a man’s body), which is rather ill-advised. (Ze has since posted a clarification/apology, the following of which is equally as ill-advised.)

Lisa at Questioning Transphobia handles the heavy lifting of deconstructing the biased and fraudulent assumptions in hir’s post, and the comments are equally good.

So, then why mention it here? Because though Lisa is through in tackling the theory, she missed something that bothered both Ariel Silvera (who lives in Dublin) and I, though I as usual said it with far more swear words:

Ariel: hmm yeah
it’s the kind of thing that wrecks my head though because
well
it’s a very American argument in many ways. over here our community is small eough that while there are disagreements and some similar arguments, we can’t afford to be divided like that
f’rex, TENI defines “trans” as including genderqueer and intersex. in other words, TENI covers anyone who is not cisgender or not cissexual, full stop
Avery: Fuck, it ain’t just american, it’s Big City Queer
It’s the kind of shit that someone inoculated in a safe community can say

And I stand by that point. There’s  a reason I include “non-big-city Southern” in my profile–I am not one of the fortunate queers who lives among the many enlightened in a large city such as San Fransisco or even Large City One Hour Away. Yes, I’m in a college town, but once I leave the safe enclave of the university’s grounds, my very fragile ’safety and respect’ bubble bursts. And making one on the internet is equally as pointless. If an argument can’t stand up to harsh criticism, what’s the point of making it?

In my very real lived experience, I stand up for my identity, and I both demand and expect respect from my fellow students and co-workers. But I’m also not senselessly hostile. I recognize this shit is complex. I’m not interested in calling for everyone to relax and sing a gender kumbaya around the queer campfire. Anger and frustration is a legitimate response to dismissal of one’s legit identification.

But I’m well aware in my real life I cannot afford “to start making [myself] visible, and calling out Brain Sex Activists when they delegitimize [me]” with the polemic divisiveness Jasper’s tone implies is the only response. Whatever Jasper’s intentions, hir dialog is little more than the kind of self-congratulatory anger which breeds distance, not respect.

Such distance can be ill-afforded in areas with little-to-no queer presence. where I do not have the privilege of  an equal “face to face discussion, [where] I could have have found common ground with most everyone.”

No, I have the experience of talking at the uniformed over and over, and hoping for the millionth time I won’t have to answer the same questions–and living in fear that someone may bring up theoretical anger (that is, anger regarding theories) and throw it in my face to delegitimize me.

You can have your “brain-sex activism oppression”–I’ll be happy when people stop looking at me like a three-headed deer, or when I stop hearing stories about other local good ol’ transsexual folks being driven from their homes by harassment from their neighbors with no recourse. Or expectation of protection from the police.

Instead, I’ve learned how to have gutsy disagreements with folks while still working together for the common cause of equality.  I’ve learned that sometimes being right is less important than the great goal of equality. So no, it’s not that “this medium [, the Internet,] makes anger too easy.” It’s that the Internet makes it all-too-easy for one to indulge in the juxtaposition of, “Listen to what I say, but ignore what I do.”

The anger comes afterward.

Thousands for an Advertising degree, yet still unable to use Google

This snarky-but-nonspecific title refers to Tampax’s new advertising campaign, which includes a young teenage boy who wakes up with ‘girl parts’. My goodness, how will he cope?

By baking and learning men can be gross, along with performing other classic gender-normative “feminine” behaviors.

As Sociological Images points out, the campaign does not fall for any of the more egregious canards like “playing with his girlparts” creepy sexual arousal or suicidal emasculation-anxiety, yet Debbie at Body Implotic is correct in noting the campaign is still problematic.

Neither Procter & Gamble (surprise!) or Luscombe talk about menstruation in the context in which it matters, which is reproduction. “Having your period sucks!” says Zack, blithely unaware of how often young women in his class have cried their eyes out because their period didn’t come, or danced for joy because it did.

What both these commenters miss, and I think is a key point, is the campaigns erasure of the thousands of vagina-owning trans men and intersexed folks who have had to deal with Zack’s problem their entire lives. Zack is not exceptional by any means, yet the campaign reinforces that, as a special and unique snowflake, he must “tell his story.”

Repossessing Normal

queenemily’s Questioning Transphobia post on the “self-narrating zoo exhibit” really struck a chord with me. For the past few months, I’ve been thinking about an experience I had while doing yet another diversity training, a duty which I have decided ends the minute I leave for graduate school.

While I don’t have the most experience with public speaking, I’ve done a good share of diversity trainings in my day. I’m not unused to once again trotting out my story for public consumption by total strangers. But I go into every training with a policy to be honest when telling my story. Which means I do, in abbreviated terms, mention that for most of my childhood I was emotionally abused and manipulated by my mother, with serious consequences.

At one talk, however, this abuse became the crux on which the discussion turned, to the point that my cisgendered listeners felt comfortable passing judgment on my own, very personal life choices. This isn’t exactly uncommon—when other, non-“trans” factors become part of a trans person’s life experience, all previous context does an acrobatic swan dive out of the collective windows of cisgendered listeners’ minds, and the entire conversation shifts to how one’s past has “contributed to” or “caused” their transness.

Liking What You See?

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.

Where You’d Least Expect Them

Trans people! In red states! Who’d have thunk it?

Well, I would, being one of them, though I am in a Deep South red state as opposed to a Midwest red state. I’ve long mulled over this, and how regions like mine get written off by other LGBT people. I originally had a much better post on this topic that got lost to a unexpected power outage. In the interest of starting a discussion, though, I’m going to instead repost a post I made elsewhere on the subject:

Though I grew up in it, the South and I do not get along very well; we are that couple who never seems to officially ‘get together,’ but have broken up more times than can be reasonably counted. Over time, I learned to hate the attitude while loving the scenery. I hate the fact 40% of my state voted to not remove language from the constitution barring interracial marriage. I hate the fact that it’s acceptable to waste public money on a “sackcloth and ashes prayer ceremony” to ‘pray away’ one of the worst murder rates in the nation. I hate the fact these attitudes fed my parents’ own bigotry. It’s easy to cultivate anger when you live among people who wish you’d fall off the planet.

But when I got a full ride to attend college down here, I took it. I knew I had to eventually move out of the South, one way to another, but if I could put student loans off for another 4 years I was willing to take the risk.

So when I see people say:

“It’s bigotry, what I feel about the south, absolutely. Fuck the south. I hope the red states get swept under a goddamn tidal wave and have to wonder just how much God truly loves the bible belt.”

I may just lose my temper a little bit. As a then-closeted (and unaware of my transness) student, what was I to do? Come out, risk being disowned, not take the money, and damn myself to struggle somewhere safe but poor? No, I took the money and am now locked in for at least another year and a half until I finish undergrad. I made my choice and face the consequences. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve the same respect every other student gets.

“They don’t know it is better in other places. Just move……..lots of places will embrace you!”

Fantastic! Will they pay to make up for the scholarship funds I’ve lost, the support network I’ve worked to build? No. Because it’s not really about my or any number of people’s daily realities; it’s about assuaging one’s personal guilt at the fact that some people still live mired in inequality and they’d rather not think about it. It’s an attitude that is just as old as Southern bigotry, if not older.

Yet if the South taught me to have anger at what cannot be changed, and it also taught me patience for what can. While I don’t expect miracles from the system, I will expect and demand respect regardless of where I’m living. And it can happen, slowly but surely. The strides may not be as drastic or photogenic, but every single one is crucially important. I will continue working for them as long as I live down here, and even after I don’t so one day that closeted kid can make their choice without having to consider the risk of living in fear.

Linkblogging: RLE and detransitioning

Not much of a content post this time around, but some links to chew on. At Pam’s House Blend, Autumn Sandeen and LenaD discussed “Real Life Experience” and detransitioning, in this case focused on the public de-transitioning of LA Times sportswriter Christine Daniels back to her original name, Mike Penner. I find this paragraph of Autumn’s post especially interesting:

I know there are other reasons than the ones my therapist cites. Sometimes the reason is relating to faith, where one becomes an “ex-transsexual” or “ex-transgender” (the trans equivalents to “ex-gay”). Sometimes it’s because the person really isn’t a transsexual, and an unsuccessful RLE catches them before they experience transsexual regret. Since my therapist doesn’t practice conversion (or reparative) therapy, she wouldn’t see those who are detransitioning for reasons of faith. But, it is interesting that in all the years of her practice, she’s never seen a transsexual who has detransitioned due to because the detransitioner has figured out that he or she really wasn’t transsexual — all of her detransitioners have detransitioned due to external pressures.

I’m not really sure what I think on all of this and don’t feel qualified to comment; I’m more in the “listen and process” stage. However, this did strike me as interesting in light of Lisa’s post at Questioning Transphobia on “I wouldn’t wish transsexuality on my worst enemy.” If nothing else, the assertion that ‘those who detransition do so due to outside societal pressure’ matches up with her belief–a belief I agree with–that “being trans is just like being cis, except, well, for not being cis. It’s not worse or better.”

Media attention. Good until it’s not.

Most recently, the article “A Boy’s Life,” in this month’s edition of The Atlantic, has been floating about the blogs. It’s a fairly traditional trans youth story, even in its inability to keep from overemphasizing and indulging in manufactured ‘trauma.’  

There’s one thing I’ve noticed which I have yet to see people comment on as I read this story and others: How the rise in stories focusing on trans children, especially young children, are the perfect reinforcement of the ”born in the wrong body” medical narrative and traditional gender roles, the true/false dichotomy. As the general culture becomes more willing to validate and accept the feelings of trans youth, in particular young trans youth, it enforces even more strictly the need to match obvious binary gender standards.

Trans children must express certain symptoms to receive treatment, because it is presumed children are so innocent they will not express their transness except in the two traditional gender categories. A young butch trans girl? Impossible. Butchness is something regailed to adults, a ‘purposefully transgressive’ identity. Instead, girls are “tomboys,” in a phase they will grow out of. And let us not wander over to the idea of a “sissy” trans boy, the medical trans gatekeepers silently declare.

Thus, those youth who don’t fit these classic narratives and molds are silenced because they are young, innocent, given to a shifting of ideas, easy to talk down to; it is always more easy to invalidate a person’s feelings when they are not felt in the right ways.

I admit, I am one of those kids who would have been talked out of their transness. I never “felt I was a boy,” but after watching a special on intersex children wondered for years after if I had been born intersex and my parents chose the wrong gender–I felt acutely that life would have been easier for me had I been able to present as a man. Not ‘be’ male, but present as such. My personality and mental space are ungendered, essnetially me. Only the exterior would change.

And what would have happened had I expressed these feelings but been convinced of their falseness, Zucker-ed into the ‘right’ gender slot? Would I have eventually transitioned anyway? I can’t say. However, Rosin’s article and medical professionals set up a kind of “trauma threshold:” ‘You must be this much of a dysfunctional basketcase post-therapy and express said trauma in certain acceptable ways to really be trans enough to eventually need treatment.’

This entire idea places in question the ‘rightness’ of huge swaths of people: late transitioners, genderqueer individuals, butch trans women, femme trans men, just to list a few. And this is why it is very important to be cautious of stories that focus on trans children. For all the good they do in making visible the idea of accepting transness as more ‘inherent’ and less ‘manufactured,’ they’re also extremely harmful in their emphasis on the incorruptable, essential innocence of children.

An innocence constantly connected with binary gender expression.

A Case for Safe Space, or Because Sometimes You Really Just Need to Take A Piss

I like bingo cards; I did, after all, create the Trans Discussion Bingo Card. They’re great for when you’ve been up against a wall of stubborn privilege for an exhausting discussion and need a quick shot of vindication. But they’re also blunt objects at best when it comes to educating someone about their privilege or for arguments that transend the obvious and enter that murky area between privilege and legitimate concern.

And of those that does require a finer touch, arguments which fuse a bunch of different squares in a jumbled, personalized mess are the hardest to counter. The language of these arguments is not directly transphobic, but hedges its transphobia in terms of the personal, complicating attempts to get at the underlying problematic argument by making contradiction look like an attack.

I bring this up because I recently encountered this in someone who argued discussions of trans issues “excluded” them by not including their experiences as a queer person who had issues with childhood gendering.

What’s funniest about this to me is how much of a reversal it is to my daily life. For all the times in all-purpose queer organizations around here I have to fight for recognition that there are trans people in said groups who’d like to feel like they can talk about themselves and their issues without judgment, one of the more successful discussions I’ve had in awhile focused on trans issues is decried as exclusionary to those who don’t identify at the cisgendered/sexual end of the gender spectrum but are in that fuzzy middle ground of “queer.”

And it’s easier to claim exclusion with issues of gender due to gender’s socially constructed nature. Unlike issues of race, class, or other categorizations, everyone experiences gender. Everyone has probably experienced judgment by others for not fitting into society’s strict gender norms at least once. With gender, everyone can and often does have an opinion. But that doesn’t mean one should necessarily feel it is their right to share said opinion.

Trans people need space to talk about trans issues because of the way our society–and more to the point, the medical establishment–have constructed ‘acceptable transness.’ It’s not just one’s transgender/transsexual identity but the struggle that trans people have to go through to become the ‘right’ kind of trans person or have the right kind of gender presentation that necessitates a safe space. The ideal personal narrative, the process of transitioning, and finding acceptance are issues for all varieties of people, but they have unique connotations for trans individuals. Gender for trans people is not only theorized creation, but the solid reality of restrooms, dressing rooms, and doctors.

As I write this, I feel like I’m retreading ground so many others have covered before. But it’s ground that will keep needing to be re-covered as long as there are days when all I wanted to do was take a piss without destroying the very fabric of society as we know it.

Self-Defense: Buddhist Perspective

During a discussion last weekend, a very close friend told me it sounded  “selfish” and “irresponsible” to her to hear me say that if I were threatened I would not actively take steps she viewed appropriate (namely, using directed violence toward an attacker) to defend myself, especially as a trans person who is statistically more likely to be targeted with violence. And I think this is a discussion that doesn’t often come up (or at least, it hasn’t in teh spaces I’ve been in): what is appropriate self-defense for queer people. Should they prepare to use violent means to defend themselves and others?

At the time, I ended up improperly articulating my position by virtue of feeling defensive, but what she said did hit home. I have long thought about ways to defend myself and am planning to take more active protections, but carrying a weapon on me is not one of them. And this is not to say I never considered it–I for a very long time considered making it a policy to carry with me a switchblade at all times. But after thinking, really thinking about what that meant, I chose not to.

And the reasoning behind this really goes to the core of my Buddhism.

In carrying a weapon and acting harmfully to defend myself, I would not be remaining true to the principle of Right Thought, or “to be able to put into practice what is rightly understood. Realizing that the world is how it is, one must understand that the reality is already perfect.” Note that while on the surface the statement that “reality is already perfect” appears nihilistic, it is actually enabling and hopeful–instead, the perfect reality is constantly changed and affected by people attempting to act on their clinging, thinking it will end their suffering. As such, it is Right Effort to work non-violently to end their suffering while following as closely as possible the Five Precepts in order to allow them to have the same understanding of a perfect, unchangeable reality.

In my case I hope to best defend myself through compassionate work to end systematic Suffering which creates in others a desire for or need to resort to violence. But at the same time, I don’t view all weapons as bad. In his interview for the NPR program Speaking of Faith, Zen master Thich Nat Han speaks of the “fierce bodhisattava.” Though I don’t have an audio clip, I point to the brief summary included on SOF’s page:

Rather than trying to escape the cycles of samsara and suffering in the world, Thich Nhat Hanh teaches, an enlightened being must embrace the negative aspects of things in order to discover their positive uses. The larger forces of peace and safety can be realized through seeing the interrelatedness of all things, which first must be countered on the individual level by using compassion and wisdom to combat greed and anger.

It’s always positive for one to be prepared to defend themselves, and if one is able to reframe the negative aspects of weaponry and directed violence into positives, then so be it. But I am not one of those people. I feel too often our society emphasizes ‘right’ over ‘responsibility,’ devolving the discussion over guns and violence into a debate over if someone will or won’t “take away your guns.” It is not the gun that is the issue, but a refusal to see or consider the interrelatedness of all things before taking karmic, or “motivated and purposeful,” action (i.e. all possible actions).

But in the heat of the moment when defending oneself, those can be hard decisions to make. For all that I feel and think about how society creates and encourages transphobia, those discussions don’t deal with these very personal decisions of ethics and responsibility to oneself and others. I know how I feel, but I wonder how others come to their decision and the reasoning behind it.