THIS JUST IN: Therapists Nationwide Control Clients’ Genitalia in Practices Sanctioned and Required by DSM

ableism, agender, ally, cis entitlement, cissexism, dehumanization, dysphoria, gatekeeper model, gender fluid, gender specialist, genderfluid, genderqueer, saneism, therapist, transgender, transition, transphobia

TRIGGER WARNING: bad therapy, gatekeeping model of trans care, gatekeeping apologism, staying closeted, cis entitlement

To the “trans ally” who said that it is good for everyone to talk to a therapist, just a few times, just to make sure… To all the “trans allies” and others who seem to think that gatekeeping is a good idea.

Even more, to the trans people who have to put up with this BS in therapy, and who start to believe it, too.

To my younger self, who believed that a therapist knew more about who I was than I did—keeping me away from myself for six more years because of a “gender specialist.”

To all the people who stay away from their true selves longer because a therapist “knew best.”

Gatekeepers are not here by our own consent or for our own good. The only person who needs to make sure that we fully understand medical decisions we make about our bodies is our doctor. And they simply are there to tell us what effects this might have on our body.

We then make the decision about what’s best for us.

In no way is it benign or helpful for us to be FORCED to go to therapy about it. Not only are we forced to go to therapy, but the decision is taken entirely out of our own hands. In a space where therapists aren’t even supposed to give us a hug, they are supposed to decide what we are able to do with our bodies. That is horrible therapeutic practice.

In a space where physical touch is forbidden, therapists still reach into our genitalia and into our chests and force them to stay a certain way. In no universe is that therapeutic. In all universes is that traumatizing.

And cis people, in general, you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about when it comes to being trans. I don’t care how many trans friends or lovers you have. You still have no fucking clue BECAUSE YOU AREN’T TRANS.

And because you have no fucking clue, you have NO RIGHT TO AN OPINION on this subject, or any subject when it comes to trans people. Fine, think your thoughts in your mind. But your opinion can never trump the opinions of THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO LIVE WITH IT.

You have no right to tell me what you think about a therapist being able to tell me what secondary sex characteristics I should have.

The only person who gets to decide what to do with my body is me. Every. Single. Time.

You are a rotten feminist if you think otherwise.

The gatekeeper model of trans “care” has traumatized trans people since its inception. We have been given access to medical transition based on curiosity, based on research, based on paternalism, based on saneism, based on how well we wear a dress, how well we wear our cuff links, how well we walk with a swagger or a swish.

Only in the past few years have non-binary people even made the list on standards of care. It’s certainly not only in the past few years that we’ve existed.

Only in the past year has our trans-ness been designated “dysphoria” and not a disorder. Only this year have we been told that we aren’t crazy simply because we are trans.

How do you think that a system that produces so much suffering for trans people is BENEVOLENT? How could that be? The only way you would think that is if you didn’t experience this sort of trauma at the hands of providers. Clearly, you haven’t.

Providers in general, as a system and as most individuals, enact these power trips every single time. It’s enough to send you to….

Oh. Therapy. Womp wooomp.

Doctors do not have our best interests at heart. Therapists do not have our best interests at heart. They are on power trips, large or small—at least on the trip of authority. They are not here to help us. They simply stand in the way of us and the care we need.

Yes, there are individual exceptions. But if you are attempting to get something you need from a provider for any period of time (for more reasons than medical transition—but that’s a story for another time), you will quickly come to this conclusion.

So why is it again that my THERAPIST gets to decide whether I cut off my boobs or not??? Why do YOU, cis person, think it is acceptable that a therapist can decide this for a trans person?

Could it be that society dictates that cis people always have a right to trans bodies—to gawk at, to experiment on, to decide what gender we are, to decide what’s appropriate for our “freakish” selves? Could it be, perhaps, that SOME CIS ENTITLEMENT has gotten in your way?

Consider that it is a possibility… and then get your hands off of my crotch. I like to keep it to myself, thank you very much.

Trans Lives as a Corny TV Show

agender, cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, gender fluid, genderqueer, media, media justice, misgendering, trans representation, transgender, transphobia, TV

TRIGGER WARNING: We don’t live in a world with accurate media representation of trans people. If our invisibility and/or abysmal media representation triggers you, this piece may not be fab to read. Also, mention of misgendering and discriminatory transitions in schools/workplaces.

Wouldn’t it be kind of rad if a TV show portrayed trans lives, coming out and being out and living trans lives, in a suspense/drama style? It would have to happen in an alternate universe, where enough people cared enough about trans lives to want to consume the challenges we face in a popcorn-crunching, candy-gnashing thriller manner, complete with suspenseful music. Let’s be real, our lives are ripe for consuming and processing conflict and strife, overcoming challenges, and all the other stuff of slightly tacky TV.

I mean, it wouldn’t have to be tacky TV, but that’s how I’m imagining it right now… This could be a break scene in between a suspenseful moment of a person who has been birth-named after announcing their real name:

[SCENE: A darkened room. Two figures enter the room in dark trench coats, with large-brimmed black hats over their eyes, and sunglasses. They lean towards each other slightly and use low voices.]

Person 1: How’s the name change procedure going in Workplace A?

Person 2: The usual. She just got birth-named.

Person 1: It’s time to bring on the special forces.

Person 2: No, let’s start with the Initial Surge Plan—education.

Person 1: Well, be quick about it. Lives are on the line. In School J, we’re already taking executive action.

Person 2: I know what’s at stake. Godspeed.

Person 1: Godspeed to you, too.

The whole show would be interspersed with lush, close-up, dramatic scenes of basic trans lives and challenges. I’m sure a lot of it would be related to trans oppression, but I think I would particularly enjoy this show if it also talked about the daily struggle to make coffee in the morning, cook eggs with your sweetie, floss your teeth, tie your shoes, and get off of the computer in a timely enough manner to get to bed.

[SCENE: Back in the darkened room.]

Person 1: Bed at midnight again?

Person 2: I know, and zie has to get up at 5am.

Person 1: What kind of state are trans lives coming to?

I mean, for real, sometimes that stuff is a daily struggle. I was talking with my mom earlier today, who just doesn’t get a lot of this. She was trying to tell me to have a more positive attitude about the discrimination I’m facing, because my attitude is the one thing I can change. I told her that for many trans people, getting through the day is an accomplishment. She did come around a bit then and congratulated me on getting through my day.

Of course, trans representation in the media is often on cheesy TV shows, but it certainly is not usually as humanizing or sympathetic. Or it doesn’t portray us as alive or happy for very long. We need a show on our own terms, a show that displays all of these things, complete with cheesy music and a tinny intro tune. The range of our lives, on a weekly corny TV drama.

Or not. But at least I would be laughing in the back of the theater.

Happy Genderqueer-oween!

agender, cissexism, dysphoria, fashion, genderfluid, genderqueer, glitter, Halloween, non-binary, transgender

TW: binary clothes shopping experience, suppression of gender expression at work

I was certain for weeks that I wanted to be a ninja turtle for Halloween. I haven’t actually seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a long time, but somehow all the new-movie advertising reached the insides of my pop-culture-insulated cave, and I remembered them and thought they were cool. A random person at a party informed me I was Donatello, as I chose “bookish” as the best adjective for me. A teacher I used to work with offered up one of her kid’s old ninja turtle shells. Things were set. I haven’t had an opportunity to wear a costume in a few years, so I was pretty excited.

Then this past Extra Hellish Week rolled around, and I didn’t have time to find a costume until today. I haven’t been expressing anything particularly frilly at work, because I don’t want anyone saying, “See?? I told you you were a girl!” It might sound odd, but even though I only sometimes wear “boyish” things, and never really identify as masculine or butch (or feminine or femme for that matter), and certainly don’t want to be seen as a butch woman, I’d rather be read as gender non-conforming in some way than not at all—even though, right now, I’d probably more consistently say that if I had to be perceived in a binary fashion, “fancy boy” would be what I’d prefer.

The result, though, of suppressing all other expressions at work except “dapper,” “bookish,” “flashy,” and, sometimes, “surfer dude,”—basically, suppressing my fairy/pansy self and my glam “lady” side—is that I have become increasingly desperate to express those parts of myself whenever I can. Usually meaning, whenever I care less about if people see me as a girl, or if I feel like most people around me won’t make assumptions about my gender.

So I suppose that I shouldn’t have been too surprised this morning when I woke up, and after the usual half-hour of what-to-wear panic, I determined that I wanted to be something frillier for Halloween. By the time I got off of work, I knew I wanted to buy all the flouncy, sparkly fabrics on Halloween sale at the fabric store, and safety-pin them together. (I haven’t sewed anything since our pillow-sewing project in seventh grade.)

After walking through the girls’ section and sheepishly trying on too-tight XL Frozen and My Little Pony shirts, and bemoaning the fact that people only seem to put glitter on “girls’” clothing, I wandered through the too-cute toddler dresses and high tops, wishing myself baby-sized again. By the time I tried on a girls’ pink flouncy dress that didn’t button in the back, and saw at least 30 princess Halloween dresses, I knew what I wanted to be: a fairy princess. The problem was, I wanted to be this 20 years too late, according to society. At the Halloween store, they even had a unicorn costume! And a RAINBOW FAIRY costume! But only for people 8 years old and under, or for very small others.

I am just small enough to be tempted by some of these costumes, but no luck. I am still cobbling together some sort of costume (I vetoed the LED-light tutu because it was $30, and I did get some girls’ rainbow fairy wings), but it’s looking like my dreams of full fairy-princess glory will have to be put off for some other time. Why do “women’s” fancy dresses come only in darker, more “dignified” colors? What, may I ask, is wrong with bright pink, lavender, and tulle? I am here to demand glittery clothes in all sizes! Go glitter or go home!

Just some basic fashion questions here on Genderqueer-oween. If you celebrate, hope you all have a genderfabulous evening!

“Women’s” Colleges, Trans Inclusion, and Non-Binary Invisibility

"passing", activism, agender, ally, cissexism, dehumanization, gender fluid, genderqueer, non-binary, privilege, trans men, trans narrative, trans women, transgender, women's college

TRIGGER WARNING: cissexism, trans exclusion in “women’s” spaces, binarism, suicide statistics

Cis women do not have a monopoly on gender-based oppression.

Let me say this again, louder: CIS WOMEN DO NOT HAVE A MONOPOLY ON GENDER-BASED OPPRESSION.

One thing we talk about is how any oppressed group has a “dominant”–a more discussed–subset. In the case of gender-based oppression, it can be tricky to determine who has the most privilege. There are all sorts of gender-based privileges: cis passing privilege, the privilege of passing as your actual gender, binary privilege, cisgender privilege, male privilege, masculine privilege. Many or most people who experience gender-based oppression also hold one or more of these privileges.

What is very clear, however, is that the movement for gender rights that has the most institutional power is the movement for cisgender women’s rights. I’m not saying they have a lot of institutional power. I’m not saying they have it as good as cis men. I’m not saying any of that. I’m not trying to say that sexism against cis women is unreal. All I’m saying is that they don’t have a monopoly on gender-based oppression–yet they have a near-monopoly on the resources and spaces to combat it.

There are times when any and every subset of people that face gender-based oppression need their own space, or their own moment to speak out against wrongs done to them. Closed spaces are important. However, there are times when closed spaces become exclusive spaces. There are times when that closedness is oppressive.

It is oppressive many of the times that cisgender women close their doors to anyone else facing gender-based oppression. The exclusion of trans women from closed women’s spaces is egregious. It is vital that they are included in closed women’s spaces. I fight for that right whenever I can.

What hurts, though, is when people don’t recognize this fact as well: women–trans and cis–don’t have a monopoly on gender-based oppression, either. It’s not solely trans women that are struggling to gain access to the resources and support that the cisgender women’s rights movement has long hoarded to themselves. And it’s not solely a dichotomy between trans men and trans women, too. (Although trans men and boys also need access to empowering resources and space.)

We exist, you all. We exist and we are a part of this conversation. We are non-binary, agender, genderqueer, genderfluid, A/G, genderfuck, bois, grrlz, birls, pansies, and everygender else. We experience gender-based oppression for our gender identities (or lack of gender). Womanhood is not the only gender identity that is oppressed. We are so marginalized that our existence doesn’t even occur to the wider societal mind.

And I, for one, and many others that I know, are tired of being excluded from the conversation. I am tired of my gender not being listed when we are talking about inclusion in “women’s” colleges, in girls’ after-school clubs, in every space that is a closed women’s space–but that holds institutional resources or power I cannot find elsewhere. Yes, there are times and places for all specific subsets of people who face gender-based oppression to have closed spaces. But when one particular subset holds most of the institutional power (in this case, cis women), they gotta share a little. Given that there are no educational institutions that support trans people of all genders, women, men, and everyone else (and those without genders as well)–“women’s” colleges need to take a good look at their resources and stop being such bigots. Given that there are few to no other institutional spaces for trans people specifically, certainly not at the (small, not enough) level there is for women and girls (trans and cis, although trans women and girls are often excluded or only have lip service paid to them), all spaces that provide resources solely to women need to look at how, why, and if that is necessary.

Given that there are ZERO schools that provide a closed, safe space for trans people, I say that “women’s” colleges and other exclusive “women’s spaces” have a feminist/civil/moral responsibility to step up. I am so tired of this conversation having no nuance.

We need to distinguish between identity and expression. Where do we draw the line? Why is it that FAAB transmasculine genderqueer people aren’t allowed in some rubrics, but cis women with a masculine expression are? Both are claiming masculine expressions, which, by some estimations, shouldn’t be allowed at a “women’s” college… at least if they aren’t on a woman. But genderqueer people face so much discrmination based on their genders, so why can’t we share this space? What about someone of any birth assignment who’s almost a guy, but not quite? What about someone who’s genderfluid? What about a trans guy who doesn’t medically transition or who doesn’t pass? What about MAAB non-binary people? Their bodies and voices belong in this space. They face so much oppression and censure. And if some of those MAAB non-binary people don’t physically transition, then there are typically MAAB bodies on campus that may never become more “feminized,” even if trans men aren’t there. What about trans men who do physically transition, but have feminine gender expressions? Why would we allow a MAAB non-binary person but not a femme trans man, given that their treatment based on gender perception might be similar? Where do you draw the line at, not kicking someone out, but at judging them for being at a “women’s” college and asking for basic recognition and respect?

I say, you don’t. You don’t draw the line at judgment. You say, you all are dealing with severe gender-based oppression, in different ways. You all, or many of you, also have various privileges from your gender even as you are being oppressed. We can process that in a community that’s committed to gender justice. I would like to say that “women’s” colleges are one such community, but they clearly aren’t, given that MAAB trans people of all genders (or lack thereof) aren’t part of the conversation, and given that FAAB trans people of all genders (or lack thereof) are marginalized when they do attend. What’s the bigger evil? Of course—it’s not even being allowed to attend. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t work to do to make our schools inclusive as well. Both things are important; including MAAB trans people of all genders (except cis male, of course), and agender people is the priority.

Of course supporting trans women is important and vital. I’m just saying that supporting non-binary people is vital, too. We’re killing ourselves at a higher rate than the general trans population; we face higher rates of most other forms of oppression as well. It’s time to count us. It’s time to include us. It’s time to recognize us as part of this movement. Use words for us when talking about gender equality and trans inclusion. Say the phrase, “trans women and non-binary people.” Say the phrase “all gender-oppressed people.” Say, “all forms of gender oppression”–and mean it and include it in all the work that you do.

It’s time.

When the Dust Starts to Settle

agender, cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, dysphoria, gender fluid, genderqueer, misgendering, non-binary, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: hopelessness around being trans (and hopefulness too), trying to make yourself be a gender you aren’t

I’m baaack! Last week I left my laptop charger in another state, so I didn’t have a computer on me. So so many blog post ideas have come and gone since then. I’m going to write tonight something very straightforward:

Hold on to hope. There will be a time, maybe more a moment, maybe an era, when you are settled in to who you are. There has been for me. Now I feel like it’s me that’s living in my body. I can look inside my ribcage and feel myself inside my heart, instead of walls imprisoning… what is it that had been inside? The shrunken, light-deprived prune of myself, kept locked and guarded from my mind. There will be a time, wild as it seems, when all of that self has grown and taken up nutrients and soil and it is full, in full bloom.

Yes, it is an uphill battle, many days, most days. Yes, there will be times it all feels like too much. But, as you settle into yourself, you will realize that you are living the life you never imagined possible. You are living life as yourself, even when you see so few others like you in your daily world. You are alive and surviving, sometimes thriving. No one said you could do that, not for the longest time, but here you are, living. I think, here I am, living my regular genderqueer life, and for a few minutes there, life felt normal. Life felt regular. We are told that we are so abnormal that this is never a possibility–but it is.

When I first started on this journey, I thought I’d never even fully hold myself, have my own full self in my heart and mind and body. It would flit in for a moment and feel like the sweetest settling in, the sweetest relaxation–then it would go. I can’t be that, I have to always force myself to be whatever they’ve said I am, whatever I’ve said I am, for so long. With the whole world whipping harsh wind on my real true self, it is easy to forget what was like, when I was hiding my gender from myself. But that is what I was for so long–a shadow. This is why I am carving a ledge for myself each day: this way, I am me.

Coming out is such a tumultuous time that it feels like life will never be regular again. But after that earthquake, grass begins to grow up from the broken earth. My world and shifted surroundings start to make sense. And this time, I find my feet in a way that I never did before–I am wearing boots that fit me now.

This is possible. This is real. Many days are hard for me. Many days are days when I can’t imagine my life being bearable for the afternoon, let alone next week or next year. But the days when life feels normal, life feels calm–those are gifts. They are gifts that, in my fear when first realizing who I was, I thought I would never have again. Hear this, please–yes, life is fucking hard, in general, let alone when you’re trans. But there can be days like this. There will be days like this. Some days you’ll be able to look around you and see your life as normal again.

I know that not everyone’s coming out story is the same, and that others’ oppressions affect this in different ways. This may not be true for everyone. But I can say that if you stay true to the course your gender lays out for you, it will eventually get smoother. Being yourself is often worth the struggle.

Hold onto those days, even if they haven’t yet come. Hold them close to your heart as you break down the walls that have held your true self in for so many years. Hold it close in your cells as you nurture them with the you that you have deprived them of for so long. They are honey in the bitter black coffee of the world.

Moving Into My Gender

cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, dysphoria, gender fluid, genderqueer, misgendering, non-binary, pronouns, transgender, transition

TRIGGER WARNING: misgendering, dysphoria, trying to make yourself be the gender assigned at birth

When I first accepted that I was not a girl, I took a whole bunch of online quizzes, mostly for fun, just to see what would come up when I asked a random internet survey about my gender. One “gender expert” survey asked what my assigned sex was, and my result was, basically, “You seem sorta androgynous, but we think you’re a girl.” I was devastated. Were they right? I knew not to trust some creepy people that also were asking about autogynephilia (or, for that matter, anyone who claimed with any kind of seriousness that they could tell me my gender, whether they were linking it to my sexuality or not), but some part of me was doubtful–maybe I was wrong; maybe I really was a girl.

That night, after turning off my computer, I tried to fit myself back into the gender that had never worked for me. I could just move back into “woman–” I could already feel the familiar contortions so easily. I just had to squeeze into it, in the room of my gender, the room I held in my ribcage near my heart. As a “woman,” I felt metal beams constricting my breathing, before I even got inside that room. It’s OK, though, I could be a woman. All I needed to do was just make myself a cup of tea and curl up in that armchair, in my “girl” room. It all felt tight, tight–just thinking about it felt tight, and I hadn’t even walked inside of this wrong girl-self yet. But I was resigned to feeling the same as always.

When I walked into the room of my gender, though, I was amazed. I hadn’t been back inside recently, and the place was bare. Lackluster boards made up the floor. A faded curtain waved in the breeze through an open window, which shone on a mug with a dried-out tea stain in the bottom, sitting on a bookshelf cleared of books. There was little or no other furniture. One or two books lay scattered, maybe a pen. I realized I had cleared out of “woman” fast.

Feeling what is right for me has been a process. I have been slowly moving into myself, moving into my gender, in a much brighter, fuller room. It is a relief to be free of those metal beams and a room that I had never realized was so drab for me. I hadn’t even noticed I’d sped out of there at the first sign that I could.

Part of this moving has been internal, and part of it has been about others’ affirmations. Some of it has been a search for the right words for myself, and then having others try it on. This is perhaps my favorite way of moving.

Hearing my right pronouns, or hearing someone call me by the right gendered words, is ice cream melting in my mouth. It is the feeling of hot chocolate pumping warmth through my veins. It is as if my whole gut was a rock warming in the sun, filling my body with solidity and lightness all at once. It is a fitting of that last puzzle piece. With the right words, I suddenly become more solid than I knew possible, and yet more ready to skip and twirl at the same time. My wholeness takes its rightful place, from my gut to my elbows. I am simultaneously as excited as a hummingbird and as unperturbed as a smooth lake.

When someone uses the right words for me, finds the right words for me, says those right words, a settling-in takes place. Leaves fall into piles and bud on branches all at once. I am real, I am real, and someone sees me. Thank God someone has finally seen me. Oh, and, here! How about this? Trying this new word–they see something I have been afraid for even myself to notice or become. But now, with a new word echoing from others, I am here at last.

It is so rare to find these right words; it feels like such a journey, especially for non-binary people. But they are there, sometimes. We make them, sometimes. We search high and low and try on everything from hither and yon. This one fit halfway, this one fit for six months and now feels tight. This gender felt OK this morning and not later, or now a few of them are here at once. That word never felt right, except for a few hours last Thursday. But sometimes a glistening Right Word comes, and we move in. We move into ourselves. Moving into ourselves is the best kind of moving there is.

Haters are Raisins (Can’t Touch This)

agender, ally, cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, gender fluid, genderqueer, non-binary, privilege, suicidal ideation, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of suicidal ideation, transphobia

 

 

Today I had an epiphany, for a moment anyway. I realized that I am so happy to be alive in this world, and to be myself. I am so proud that I have gotten to this point and SURVIVED, and that I get up daily and work to carve out the space in the world that I need to be who I am. I am proud of my fashion and proud of taking care of myself and proud of daily speaking up or sitting down or walking around and just–being. Life is good. I am good. I am amazing for being here.

I thought, this is so much better than being dead. All this bullshit they throw at me, even that–it’s so much better than being dead.

When I realized that even the oppression I’m facing, right now–it’s so much better to be myself and to be facing this oppression than to be dead–suddenly so much of the power they were holding over me disappeared, replaced with a calm, happy sense of humor about all their bigotry.

I have gone through so much to be here, just as I am right now, and I desperately want other people to see that struggle and understand. Don’t you know what it’s like to be so ashamed of who you are that you want to die? To see no examples of your gender in the world around you, nobody saying you exist, and then to go out in the world anyway? Don’t you see that it takes so much for me just to say who I am to you, and ask you to respect it? A few months ago I couldn’t even utter those words–I am trans–to myself.

I want other people to understand that this is a matter of life and death for me. I also want them to understand what a journey it is for me to be here. Some people understand, or at least know how little they can know of an experience like this. But the people whose words usually hurt the most are the people who are stuck in themselves, the people who, it’s true, just don’t get it. They may or may not have good intentions, but they say the shittiest things. I want them to put aside all their prejudice and just realize–Don’t you get it? I’m here. I am here. That is so much huger than you can know. Show some respect, I want to say. Show some respect, I ask in my friendly, cis-person-proof body language, tone, smile. I’m being extra nice.

All of that is true. But I realized today that sometimes that line of thought and feeling is just poison. It’s poison because I persevorate on other people’s feelings and actions, wanting them to be different. And no matter how just my understanding, it doesn’t change their actions and feelings. They still are just as clueless as when I started. Willingly clueless, maybe. But clueless all the same. These haters, their hearts are raisins. Maybe at some point their lives and feelings were full and juicy, and they could fill themselves up with compassion and care for others. But now they’re shriveled up. Now they can’t let anything in, they’re so dry. And that’s just a sad spot for them to be. To refrain from applauding, celebrating, respecting someone who battles death and denial to become their full, true selves–that takes a shriveled raisin heart.

And I’m not going to preoccupy myself with shriveled raisin hearts anymore. That can be someone else’s work. Allies, that’s your work. I’m going to instead give myself the love and care I am looking for from others. I am amazing for being here and for being who I am, every day. I am amazing for asking for what I need and taking up my rightful space in the world, every day. It isn’t always easy. Others’ words and actions do get to me, they do affect me. That’s OK. I’m not saying it’s wrong or bad if these things affect me or anyone, or make life super hard sometimes.

But I am my own fab, wonderful self, and only I can give myself that. I used to think that that was a paltry gift, compared to the shit I face in the world for being me. But it is such a beautiful gift. Here I am, living and breathing and laughing. Sure, other people take that for granted. But I am here and I am me, and that is good. Other people’s bullshit shriveled selves–they have nothing on me and my gender. I am myself, disco dancing in my own glitter spotlight, can’t touch this, singing and humming and buzzing inside, because I am me and I am here and nobody can keep me from that. I exude myself, and I am so glad to be here.

Dreaming While Sick, Crazy, and Trans

ableism, agender, chronic illness, dehumanization, disability, dysphoria, gender fluid, genderqueer, mental illness, misgendering, non-binary, pronouns, PTSD, saneism, suicidal ideation, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of suicidal ideation & statistics, also discussion of general oppression of sick, crazy, and trans people

 

We all have hopes, goals, dreams. We all want that shit to happen real bad. I think part of why it’s so hard to look forward in life as a sick, crazy, trans person, even for me, who has a fuckton of advantages, is that it seems like this shit is going to stop us in our tracks. We aren’t supposed to be “useful” or have goals or be able to interact with “society,” whatever that is. We aren’t supposed to be able to make an impact on those around us, at least not a positive one. We aren’t supposed to have futures.

And, too often, many of us don’t have futures. Many of us don’t see a future for ourselves. We fear that others will cut short our lives and our dreams or just our daily getting by. Many of us worry that no one will see us as worthwhile, for any of the above reasons. And it’s killing us. I know that, if you add up the attempted suicide rates for all the different diagnoses I have, plus my trans identity, it’s pretty fucking high. PTSD: 27%. Depression: 20%. Secondary care for IBS: 16%. Non-binary trans: 43%.

That’s a pretty fucking scary list. I have never taken statistics, and those are some scary statistics. I think sometimes about how suicidal ideation probably wouldn’t even be as present for me, though, if there wasn’t the shame compounding this stuff. Yes, I still might be a little crazy. Yes, I’d still be in pain sometimes from IBS. Yes, I’d still be trans and I’d experience physical dysphoria (not that all trans people do–but in this utopia, social dysphoria would be mitigated almost instantly). But in some utopian world where people accept you where you are, where people envision futures for all people coming from everywhere, where people don’t assume genders and affirm everyone, in this utopian world, I would feel like my dreams are more possible. I would feel like my life is more possible.

We don’t live in that world, though, and I know that you, like me, probably need some encouragement to get where you need to go. You need the encouragement to keep on getting out of bed (if you can) every day, maybe, to eat some food, maybe, to talk to people around you, even, or not, if you need to. You need encouragement to live your daily life, sometimes. I know I do, when I’m sick, crazy, and trans. Which is all the time. Sometimes just the sheer logistics of negotiating your life are too much. I want to say that that struggle is enough. It is good. It is important and noble. Thank you for doing it. Thank you for continuing to exist and live and love and care, and, yes–

dream. Thank you for holding onto those dreams even when everything seems to be falling about your ears.

They are possible. They are beautiful. They can happen. Existing is enough, and, yes, there is a future, and it is not only about a daily struggle, the daily struggle to actually do the dishes or floss your teeth or to get through the pain or for people to use your right pronouns or to be seen as a fucking whole human being. This is all life is, and it is not all life is. You can and do have a future as a trans person, as a sick person, as a crazy person, as someone with a disability. Remember that you deserve this shit just as much as anybody else. You have a right to be here. You have a right to be valued, to be heard. You have a right to be your own fabulous gendered self. You have a right to your mind and your feelings and for holding them, or not, however you need. You have a right to be sick in bed all day. And you have a right to take the space and place in the world that you have longed for.

Many people will say that you do not have a right to these things. But I see you, here, still living each day. I see you holding onto your dreams. I can’t say all your dreams are going to come true, or that shit is easy, because it’s not. But why not have dreams? They are wings on our heart. We all can use some wings sometimes.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

–Langston Hughes

Also, some resources:

If you’re feeling suicidal, please ask yourself these questions. Is there anyone you can call to be with you right now, even if they aren’t someone who’s 100% affirming? What things can calm you down or make you feel better? Consider making a madness map: http://www.theicarusproject.net/article/mad-maps-building-trails-to-where-we-want-to-be-input-needed. What kinds of things do you want to do to yourself? Are you thinking of hurting yourself or someone else? If so, PLEASE call any or all of these numbers (I unfortunately don’t have numbers that are outside the US:

The Fenway GLBT Helpline: 1-888-340-4520

GLBT National Hotline: 1-888-843-4564

Q Hotline: 866-539-2727

If you’re 24 or under, Trevor Helpline: 866-488-7386

Check out this website (TRIGGER WARNING for discussion of suicidal ideation).

Also, check out this awesome link and recording of it, if you’re needing a little hope.

Hold on there!

Coming Out–Resources for Friends and Family

agender, ally, coming out, gender fluid, genderqueer, non-binary, privilege, pronouns, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: coming out to and educating family, people asking shitty ignorant questions that are all objectifying and stuff

 

 

So, when I first wrote coming-out letters to my parents, I was entirely upset at the idea of including resources for them, or a list of do’s and don’t’s. It was saying, OK, I’m trans, here’s how to treat me like a person. It felt degrading and undignified and I felt like my whole body screamed against it, like it was a betrayal of myself. A friend told me, “I totally get that. Also, don’t be afraid to give people the resources they need to treat you right.” As I nodded, my insides were all, “Ahhhhhhh nooooooo!” (After being more out in the wider world, though, I get what he means: not everyone is an ally-in-waiting, and there also usually no allies in waiting to correct people or come to your defense when people start talking about trans people’s genitals. My feelings and his feelings, as all feelings are, were both so legit and real.)

I was also afraid to tell them that I was angry that they assigned me female at birth without so much as asking me about it, and to tell them different things they’d done to gender me or express prejudice made my life harder. I was worried that it would mean they wouldn’t be able to hear what I was saying. But I was aching to tell them this as much as I was aching for them to understand transness on their own.

In the end, I told them all of it: I told them about my anger and I gave them resources. In the end, even though I very much support rainbowgenderpunk’s idea that just coming out–no, just existing–is enough, I spent a long time handwriting letters and decorating the envelope with glittery drawings and stickers (it’s now hanging on their wall) and making a piece of art that said, “Celebrate with me!” and had a lists of do’s and don’t’s underneath. I eased my worry about telling them about my anger by concluding with a paragraph on the reason why I was telling them all of this, including talking about my anger, was because I love them and want them close to me. Ending with love helped me a lot, because it was true and I needed that reminder.

Well, I am happy to say that as soon as they got the letter, they called me to tell me that they love me, and I bawled. There is definitely still more journeying to be had, and some of it will come as they start to digest these resources. Yesterday, I came out to a lot of my extended family, and I organized this long, disorganized list of links into something more user-friendly. (The part of me that shrank at giving resources to people a month ago is cringing a lot now that I’m making them more user-friendly. :P) I know a lot of people already have lists like these they give family and friends, but I had trouble finding anything comprehensive as I was collecting resources. So I’m sharing this with you all in the hope that it will help make someone else’s coming-out process easier. When I first did that foraging for the right sites for me, I was so grumpy that I was looking for resources for them at all. Hopefully this will save somebody else that time and effort. Of course, you don’t need to share resources at all–this stuff is so Google-able. For myself, I decided I’d rather be the one exposing them to the resources I chose.

Without further ado, here they are:

Resources & Reading–Please check it out at your leisure! I’m putting in bold the ones that I recommend reading most, or starting out with. Read this article if you don’t have the chance to read anything else. It talks about ways to be a trans ally: http://thismongrelland.wordpress.com/2013/12/12/this-is-what-support-looks-like/
 
Basic information on the trans community:

Information on being genderqueer:

Ways to support trans people–these resources are really informative and helpful:

Resources focused on significant others, family, friends, and allies:

Pronoun use:

My favorite readings and websites for my own process:

Non-binary People, the Trans Narrative, and “Passing” Privilege

"passing", agender, cissexism, gender fluid, genderqueer, misgendering, non-binary, privilege, trans narrative, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of misgendering, invalidation of trans identities

 

NOTE: I want to use this post to start a conversation. I know that there’s plenty of trans experiences I don’t have–so if I’m missing something, please don’t be afraid to let me know! 

So, this flashy word people throw around, “trans narrative,” when they say it, they’re talking about the normative idea of what it is to be trans, what it involves. Knowing you were trans before you could barely speak and asserting that clearly to your family, expressing your true gender in normative ways, wanting to medically transition in all ways possible. Not really “counting” as trans until medical transition starts. This is the normative trans narrative that so many people decry in their vlogs and blogs and all sorts of places.

This trans narrative does not have room for non-binary people.

There are normative pressures in the non-binary world, too, possibly that you’re AFAB and that you express more on a masculine spectrum/androgynously. But the dominant trans narrative, cultivated by so many years of warped guidelines for therapists (and warped therapists) and our own trans community, does not even leave space for our existence. It also doesn’t leave space for many binary trans people. Anybody who doesn’t check all of those boxes can deal with some invalidation because of not fitting into this narrative. 

Much of the dominant culture and conversation about what it is to be trans is constructed for and focused on binary trans people. It’s important to note that this isn’t the only point of focus: dominant conversations about transness revolve around white, able-bodied, thin-privileged, class-privileged citizens of the United States (at least in the US). All of this intersects in different ways. Right now I’m going to focus on non-binary identity because I’m not versed in all of these intersections–I need to work on that. If I create any glaring holes, I apologize. If you feel comfortable, please let me know and I will do my best to correct it.

I will give you one example of how this plays out. I’ve heard a lot of people talking about “passing” privilege that non-binary people can sometimes have. I want to front-load this conversation by saying that “passing” can be a complicated topic for many people, and not everyone’s goal is to “pass.” The word itself is cissexist and sucky. But I’m going to use it here because people do talk a lot about “passing” privilege. If folks have an idea about a better word, I’d love to know about it!

Inside the trans community, there are two types of “passing.” One is to “pass” as cisgender. The other is to “pass” as our true genders. For binary trans people, even if it is hard or impossible to “pass” as either of these things, “passing” as one’s true gender can often mean “passing” as cisgender. (This is still true, but more complicated, with binary people who have non-normative gender expressions. There are also many binary trans people that do not want to “pass” as cisgender.)

As diverse as the binary trans community is, it’s harder to talk about non-binary people because we are even more diverse. However, for many non-binary people, it is nearly impossible to pass as our true gender(s) (or lack of gender). Very rarely does it cross people’s minds that “non-binary” could be an option when they’re projecting their gender assumptions onto people. Some non-binary people are (sometimes, often, or always) comfortable presenting as a binary gender. Some non-binary people CAN’T be read as cisgender because of their gender expression or medical transition. (I think that part of this assumption about non-binary “passing” privilege is based on the wrong idea that none of us transition medically.) Some wish they weren’t read as cisgender or binary trans, but due to any number of limitations, that’s what they are read as. When trying to be read as our full selves, sometimes the best we can hope for is confusing people. Many binary trans people can hope for being seen as their true genders. In order for non-binary people to be seen as our true genders (or lack thereof), we first need to educate people not only on what it means to be trans, but on the existence of our gender(s) (or lack of gender).

Then, while we’re doing that educating, we are also working against a dominant trans narrative, and many binary trans people, that also say that we don’t exist. Or that if we do, we are doing this for political reasons or something, or just to threaten binary people’s genders, or some other hogwash. So, yes, some non-binary people have the “passing” privilege of appearing cisgender–as do some binary trans people. Very few to no non-binary people have the “passing” privilege of being read as our true genders (or lack of gender). This is also true for some binary trans people. The difference is that binary trans people’s true genders at least exist as a pre-formulated possibility in people’s minds, even if they refuse to recognize a binary trans person, even if “that person might be trans” doesn’t occur to them when projecting gender onto someone. Non-binary people do not exist as a possibility in most people’s minds.

This is why we need binary trans people to have our backs. Many of us across the trans community are challenging this dominant trans narrative, but it is pervasive. It contains a lot of binary prejudice. There are many other ways that we talk about binary trans experience as if it’s the experience of everyone who isn’t cisgender. It’s not just in conversations about “passing” privilege, it’s everywhere. I hear a lot of non-binary people apologizing for their “passing” privilege, and I think it’s important for any and everyone to own what privileges they do have. Some non-binary people do have a variety of privileges. But I also want to recognize that the whole dynamic is skewed, is set up from a binary trans perspective. What would it look like if we had a narrative that held everyone equally? It might be a lot messier and longer and take some more words, but then everyone would be seen.