Asparations

I have been told my entire life that I am a dreamer.  This is not entirely true.  “Dreamer” implies that I prefer to think about my ambitions rather then seize them.  My life has been fraught with setbacks–financial, health, and gender related–but I have always managed to bounce back.  When I first told my family about how I would not let my transition effect my career, my mother replied “but that is so male of you”.  She was obviously being crass with me, as she herself is a lawyer, school board member, magazine editor, and the worst cook I have ever met.  Her joke aside, I think she inadvertently pointed out something that runs very deep among transgender people: More often than not we (and I use we to refer to transgender people in general and not myself specifically) find ourselves enslaved by our own stereotypes. 

When someone who was raised male dreams of being a woman, a specific image often comes to mind; most transsexual women I have met have said as much, and for a long time I was just as guilty. This would not be a problem except our world is still one defined by gender stereotypes.  The vision of the 1950s Americana housewife is no longer the norm for women today, but that image still sticks to our culture like an overused piece of chewing gum.  And for that reason, any initial image of femininity that a transgender person envisions will invariably be a stereotype.  I decided that I would just not transition if I was be doomed to become a housewife or a teacher, but I digress.  The point I am trying to make is that transgender people tend to act and present in a way that is more feminine or masculine then they feel personally compelled to. 

Part of it is overcompensation, and this is most obvious in our choices of clothing.  While most people would never wear plaid flannel or pink floral dresses on a daily basis, It’s gotten to the point where I can oftentimes spot a trans* person based on their choice of clothing alone.  This is not a real problem, but that people will do the same thing with their personalities is.  Many trans* woman are passive and quiet, sometimes totally enveloped in their transition.  Some of them have an air of resignation about them, as if they have accepted the fact that they are second-class citizens and always will be.  Transgender people should never settle for less because of their gender, and should never have to change their personality because of what society tells them a woman or man is.  And also, no more pink floral dresses.  This isn’t just for transgender people, but for everyone.  Just don’t.

The message “be who you are” resonates loudly throughout the LGBT community, especially among trans* circles.  But what about after you start being who you are?  It always drives me crazy when people never think about what comes after their transition.  For many, the only dream they will ever have is that dream of becoming the man or woman or what-have.  I adamantly believe that anyone, no matter what or who they are can only do their best when they aim for something greater.  Transgender people are no exception.  We should not aspire to be men and women.  We should aspire to be great men and great women.  And so should the rest of the world. 

How it feels

As a transgender person, I am asked many questions-"how long have you known", "are you having surgery", "are you getting your thing cut off"; the list goes on.  While they were never the most insightful questions, I could always find a way to answer them.  Many transgender people are very secretive about these things, but I've always thought that I had a duty to answer these questions, firstly because it would be rude not to, and also because I know that if nobody can answer them, then we will be condemned to repeat our past.  There has been only which I've never really been able to answer: "What does it really feel like to be transgender".  The answer is hard to explain.

I have always been ashamed of the fact that I never wanted to transition.  I don't regret the decision, far from it, but if I was given a choice between a pill that could have made all of this go away, and the trials I have endured, I would choose the pill in a heartbeat.  It's not that I am ashamed about who and what I am.  It's just that being transgender is not easy.  Every moment, I need to make a conscious effort to walk and speak a certain way.  I can only wear specific outfits, ones that fit a certain way.  Most people look a bit frazzled if they don't bother to do their hair.  I risk open hostility every day if I don't.

I've had to reassess my entire life's plan.  Before all of this came into the picture, I was going to become a chef.  I had contacted some of the finest schools in the country, I was working and learning every day.  All of that was for nothing, because until the world changes, there will be very few industries where someone like me can reach that highest tier.  There is a glass ceiling for women and for racial minorities, but for me, things are in a new class of impossibility.  Most people do not actively hate women and racial minorities (at least not openly), but it is considered perfectly OK to hate people like myself.  Even if I moved to a state where I would be protected by law, I could never reach the place where I wanted to be.  While I have found a place for myself in the world in a field that will allow me to do as well as anyone else, I've had to change the entire direction of everything.  Being transgender is very expensive-while I do not want surgery that much myself, it is not really my choice.  If I am to be allowed a place in society, or have any sort of long-term conventional relationship, I must have it.  I am a slave to the ideals of the people around me.

I am not saying this to complain.  I have complained enough for a lifetime, and nothing good ever comes of it.  I am saying all of this because in order for you to understand how it feels to be transgender, you need to understand just how much we end up sacrificing.  And you need to understand that to my rational mind, my better judgement, transition could never be worth the cost.  Being transgender is not a desire to be something other than what you are.  It is not a choice that makes us somehow alleviate our feelings of gender dysphoria.  It is never a choice-no sane person could ever make this choice.  There is no logic to the hell that I have went through, and the hell that I am still going through when people decide that I am no longer worthy or humanity.  I do not feel or think that I am transgender.  I do not feel or think that this is the right thing to do with my life. Until I began my transition, every day I lived with the innate and instinctual knowledge that my gender was wrong, alien.  My life is still fraught with conflict as a result-I can look in a mirror and be perfectly satisfied with the face I see.  And despite the fact that the face I see looks good, I feel sick to my stomach, because no matter how much I resent this, that face and body can not belong to me.  I feel as if the person I see is just standing in front of me, and if that person stepped aside, I would finally be able to see my own reflection.

There are steps that people like myself can take to change these things, in my case with some success.  I think it is very telling that I tend to dress in a relatively masculine way.  I enjoy dressing in an androgynous way, I am drawn it to because of what it is that I want.  But I do not identify as androgynous.  I cannot decide not to min if people think that I am male.  I may love embracing androgyny, but that is my choice of fashion.  No matter how much I dress the way I love, act the way I love, I cannot escape that fact that if I am not seen as a female doing these things, I am petrified, frozen, and disgusted.  There can never be an escape from the things that we know to be true, and someone like me can only try to make them true.

I wish I could say that nothing good has come of all of this, because than I might be able to truly accept that this is what my life must be and resign myself and try to forget.  I wish I could say that, but it would not be true.  These agonizing steps that compose a transition do offer me and people like me the chance to escape the prison in our minds.  People have told me that it insults trans* people to call gender dysphoria a disorder.  Perhaps it does on a certain level, but I cannot say that it is not true.  Nothing but a disorder could mandate such subversive steps to relieve it.  I hate being transgender in many ways.  I still feel as put off, or even disgusted as most people do when they see a naked pre-op.  I do not find it fun, I do not find it enjoyable, though I do find all of this in my gender expression.  I sometimes decide to stay home because I do not want to make anyone around me feel uncomfortable, which I have no doubt will happen if I am not able to properly execute my flawless facade.

In the end though, I cannot change this any more than a person with a shattered spine can choose to walk again.  For better or worse, this is a part of my life that just is.  Even in the face of ridicule and under the threat of violence, I cannot accept "no" for an answer when I am pushed aside.   So I pick myself up, and do the things that I need to do.  No matter what happiness I find, there will always be this single shard of glass in my side unless I can remove it.  In the end, if I am able to make myself that person I know I am, even for a single instant, I can find peace.