A Game

Take a look at the list below and pick the line you think represents "womanhood", i.e., the point at which you think it's okay for another person to identify themselves as a woman.

• Has feelings of gender dysphoria but doesn't "dress" or otherwise express them
• "Dresses" in secret
• Out to family and friends
• Part-time
• HRT
• Fulltime everywhere except for work
• Fulltime (including work)
• Name changed
• Gender changed on driver's license (sometimes not possible!)
  
• Orchiectomy
• Tracheal shave
• FFS
• GRS
• Gender changed on birth certificate.
  
• "Passes" completely
• Living Stealth
• 30+ years post SRS
• Transitioned as a teen/young adult
• Transitioned pre-adolescence
• Prostrate removed
• Pelvis tilted; ovaries and uterus transplanted
• All memories of "boy" life erased and replaced with "girl" memories
• New body cloned for you, this time with Y gene converted to X, and brain transplanted
• Born XX and raised a girl

Congratulations, by exercising determination over other peoples' identities you've just made it okay for everyone to do so. And there will always be someone who will pick something further down on the list...something you can't possibly achieve. Many, many of them already choose the very last line.

My frustration with those people - they're lack of understanding, their unwillingness to listen, their close-minded perspective on the world and its beautiful diversity - means that I will never play this game myself.

You've Been Served

So I was served divorce papers today. Kind of anti-climatic, given that I had to go pick them up at the post office myself. Why couldn't it have been something cool like in the movies...maybe a cute guy asking me out and then slapping me with them just before dessert arrives? C'mon, where's the drama?

Or the lawyer could have just given them to Beth to bring home with her. It's not like we don't see each other all the time.

Internalized Transphobia

I'm usually loathe to offer commentary on other peoples' blogs, but sometimes things come along that I just have to talk about. And, of course, comment moderation is enabled there so it's impossible to have a frank conversation (edited: actually my comment made it through, so that was a totally bad presumption on my art). So as not to embarrass the individual unduly, I won't be linking to her blog.

The post in question describes an encounter between a trans friend and the blog's author, a closeted trans woman. This "friend" is not much of a friend at all it seems, and in fact, only contacted our author to ask about a favor, which would involve coming by her place of work. That the author told this person "no" doesn't seem like a big deal to me...if the only time you call is to ask someone to "give you a deal" on some work you need done, you don't deserve to have someone do something nice for you.

In fact, the reason the author said "no" had nothing to do with that, but rather, as noted before, she's closeted and having this trans woman show up at work where they may be somehow connected (even though the "friend" promised not to mention her name) was a bit too much for her to risk. I think that's unnecessarily paranoid, but I do sort of get it...coming out (or not coming out) is a personal event and sometimes you are paranoid in the way you manage it.

But wait, reading the rest of the blog, it seems as though the author has another trans friend who comes by and uses her employer's services at least somewhat frequently. So what's the difference between that trans friend and this fair-weathered one? Well, here it is:

"So, let's just say that she puts no effort into her presentation. I think she is going for the lesbian butch look which for a male, would not be hard to do. Suffice it to say, a man in a dress. Sorry. No make up, no hair, no body language, nothing."

The rest of the blog is about how bad she feels, and how her actions make her no better than a "radical extremist". Her commenters try to assuage her guilt, telling her that's not so. But the truth is, it is kinda so. And it's not just this one blogger...huge chunks of the trans community are just as guilty of this all the time.

The blogger tries to accept blame, but the damage has already been done. A trans person has been victimized, and on top of that, she's been blamed for her own victimization. Because as the quote illustrates, clearly this woman is doing something wrong. She doesn't look good enough, she doesn't try hard enough, and her choice of presentation is insensitive to other peoples' needs and feelings. And finally the ultimate insult, resulting in the complete and total erasure of her identity: Man In Dress.

We learned a lot of things as children that we struggle to implement as adults. We learned that you're not supposed to judge others based on how they look, but clearly that lesson didn't take with the trans community. We also learned that you can't own up to something and also pass the buck at the same time...there is no "I'm really sorry for what I did to you but if you just hadn't done what you did I wouldn't have had to do what I did"...that just doesn't work.

To be clear, what was described in this blog is internalized transphobia. It presumes that the best way to be trans is to be not trans. And that people who fail to meet that expectation are undeserving of normal, decent treatment.

One of the blog's commenters even goes on to describe the "friend" as...

"...someone well outside the unwritten rules who is a danger to others and thoughtless."

Well those rules may indeed exist, but make no mistake, they are there to cater to fearful, narrow-minded folk who get what they want by scaring other people and making them feel like crap. And when you propagate their rules you become one of them.

Market Day

Got the call around 8:30 am, and by a quarter after nine yesterday I was at the local farmers market schlepping produce for a group of people I'd never met before.

It was busy. I couldn't venture a guess as to how many customers we saw, but it was non-stop for more than five hours. And I couldn't have been happier...you couldn't wipe the stupid smile off my face the whole day.

I love people. It's the thing I miss most about work. Being part of a team, helping others find the things they need, being constantly surrounded by faces and voices and conversation...I love being part of the big social engine. It energizes and excites me. It makes me happy.

I need to get back to work, and soon.

Lonely

On my bed, Beth's cat, Loki, has a little purple pillow right next to the one I use. It's his favorite place to sleep, and he does so right next to me pretty much every night.

I was on the verge of drifting off to sleep last night when I felt a little touch on my wrist. Loki was there on his pillow, with his eyes shut, one paw extended gently to rest on my arm. This is typical. Like me, he feels the need to touch and be in contact with the people he loves. Like me, he feels the need to be connected to others.

As I write this blog, he has just crawled into my lap. I think he's lonely. Except for me, the people most important to him all have people more important to them. The days are all the same now in the lonely little apartment.

This blog isn't really about Loki.