[last night i went to hear my favorite author, Thea Hillman, read from her new book Intersex (for lack of a better word). as with all good readings it reminded me about a certain topic that has been rattling around in my head needing to be written down in order to give me a bit of sanity]

gender. the reality is that it is a socially constructed ideal that is often confused with a person’s sex. it is also witness to our cultural need for black and white realities. we have been programmed to assign gender to another person based on certain external stimuli. upon meeting person X we quickly scan their exterior, perhaps take tone of voice, name and dress into our equation and assign in our head a gender to that person.

there are some major flaws to this programming. 1. when we assign a gender to anyone other than ourselves we are taking away their own power to determine their rightful gender. 2. by needing to assign a gender based on such seriously limited information we are essentially stated that there are only two appropriate choices and assuming these are static for all people.

identity has many layers. there is the genital based identity assigned at birth. you have the assumed sexual identity assigned by society. then you have the expected identity assigned to you by your friends and family. somewhere under it all you hope to find your own identity.

language is full of gender charged words. we have little f or m checkboxes all over our forms. we gender norm our children from birth. we color coat our world with subtle pinks and blues to remind us where to go, what to wear, how to act, what to say, where to pee and who to love. we are masters at excluding each other for the sake of gender “safe spaces”.

and you are expected to conform to it all.

here is a perfect point to quote from Thea’s new book. This is from her piece “Community”:

i’m going to try to talk only about myself. and my experience of our community, as it were, which i would loosely describe as a bunch of people who have fucked each other or each other’s girlfriends, read each other’s writing, written about each other on Craigslist, seen each other perform, idolize, fantasized about, and recognize and sometimes even say hi to each other on the street. we’re a group of people whose misunderstanding of each other is only topped by people’s misunderstanding of us. and in the end that’s probably what brings us together: our otherness, our queerness . . . so, when it comes to talking about trans stuff, i’d like to use “i” statements. i’d like to tell you about myself, tell you my story. but that’s impossible. not because i’m not transgender, but because i can’t tell my story without telling yours.

i have tried on many identity “labels” in my life. i, like most others, was raised in a world that blindly believes in a binary gender system. i have been bombarded with male and female guidelines and told i should “naturally” fit within one or the other. i have tried being feminine. i have tried being masculine. i have tried being every possible combination to fit in with the “rules”. I never fit.

I am a genderfucker.

i do not fit into neat little boxes. i blur the lines and fuck with the edges. i use male pronouns. i am on testosterone and want top surgery. and I love having a cunt. i don’t believe in inherently male or female traits.

and yet there is another dimension at play. the concept of passing. this idea that your gender presentation helps you pass to the world at large as the gender in which you identify. it’s the golden ticket prized by so many who are transgendered. i have been on testosterone for over five years. i’m tall, broad and stocky. i pass. many people in my life wouldn’t have the slightest clue that i was born into female anatomy.

recently, a very important friend of mine has brought me face-to-face with an aspect of not passing that i haven’t had to process in many years. its been really unsettling to go through this from the place of the one who “passes.” it’s painful to watch someone i love not be seen. i find myself getting angry every time someone uses female pronouns. i am admittedly saddened by his not correcting others. not because he chooses not to. that is totally his call. but rather because he doesn’t pass. this whole idea that one needs to pass in order to deserve to be seen is really starting to piss me off. the idea that there is an appropriate male or female presentation and that its so dominant that even some trans people are apologetic for not fitting into this absurd mold.

at the same time i have my own guilt as someone who does pass. how easy is it for me to say all this, knowing that i no longer have to personally deal with this mindfuck game on a daily basis? and then there is the fact that i absolutely see him as male and it really confuses the hell out of me when someone else doesn’t get that!

what i really want is to be a source of support. there are times where i want to ask, “why don’t you correct your friends?” but i realize i don’t have to deal with those ramifications. i’m not so far removed, however, that i’ve forgotten what it feels like to constantly correct people. it’s fucking exhausting! but i also remember that when it comes to the ones whom you are closest that when they can’t get a pronoun right, it’s those moments that hurt the most.

how do i support without creating a fight that honestly is not mind to wage? and am i just being selfish or arrogant because i’m trying to make this all make sense to me?

i came home today and pulled up some of my old writing from right before i started taking testosterone and during the first few years. i wanted to remember what i was going through at that time in hopes that it would give me some perspective because it is “easy” for me to want to correct others when i’m not the one having to deal with the ramifications personally. and it might also be true that watching his experience has triggered some of my own memories from that time in my life, as well as some of my guilt for the path of least resistance i chose to take for the last few years for the sake of my ex.

i don’t know that i have any more answers that when i first started writing. what it all comes down to, for me, is the epidemic problem surround the socially constructed concept of gender. which in simpler wording means i am just one person trying to make sense of it all. and i am just one person trying to be a supportive friend without creating more havoc for the already frustrating reality of a loved one.

i want to end this ramble with a poem i came across as i was digging through my past writings. the insight i had when writing this very rough piece is humbling and brought tears to my eyes. this poem was written almost two full years before i had my first shot of testosterone.

transgender prayer
[10-27-01]

Fill my veins with
androgens of a
masculine kind.
Allow me to be
“he” as I squeeeeeel
with excitement about
your FAAAAAABULOUS new
outfit.
Lower my voice,
cut off these
“she” mounds upon
my chest so that
I can go pee
without fear.
Thicken the hair
upon my face
so I can finally
shave more than
once a week.
Teach me to
get over my
fear of needles,
and general anesthesia,
and hospitals and
not being able
to breathe as
I sit bound
around my
chest
and spiders too
if you get the chance.
Let the “ma’am, um,
sir, um, ma’am’s”
build confidence
in HE.
Let me keep my
gentleness, my
kindness, my
thoughtfulness.
And don’t let
me see too often
the disdain that
I often held for
the general “male,”
but don’t let me
forget either.
Allow me to grow and
change and
evolve into the
man I see and
hear and
know myself to be.