If you are trans and you don’t have a disability, you don’t have a birth defect.
If you are trans and you do have a disability, you don’t have a birth defect.
Besides being an incredibly boring story, saying you have a birth defect is, more often than not, terribly, terribly hurtful. Anarchafemme writes:
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How many trans and gender queer folks get hung up on the science of gender? You know what I’m talking about.
We really want to believe that gender is socially constructed but we get caught up in these little scientific facts like biology. The whole chromosome thing is the killer app of the gender-isn’t really-socially-constructed crew. Secretly, we believe them.
We belie our fire and genderis-socially-constructed brimstone when we talk about passing, among other things. Whenever we use the term passing, we acknowledge that gender really isn’t socially constructed. We let Science trump our Politics. And if you’re like me, you can feel like crap. “Oh, I guess I really am a woman….” Dejection and depression aren’t far behind.
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I had cause to be brought back to my early days of transition. Before chest surgery. Before I knew how to adopt straight male gender cues. Before my voice found its lowest register and stayed there. Before the flat chest. Before I felt safe in my body.
The fear that I could have my male privilege removed by being labeled a woman, a freak, a faggot (all of which I was named), was more present then. When that fear is real, it seems to me that the nature of FtM male (as opposed to white) privilege is far more conditional.
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phototransfer, thread, oil crayon, encaustic on archival paper and board c. 2010, Jay Sennett
Creative projects can wait years to find their mediums. That’s been true for me, at least.
I’ve told stories with words, cartoons and film. Now I’m learning to tell stories with photo transfer and encaustic painting.
Last Friday night, Saturday and Sunday (all day), I learned how to transfer laser and inkjet photos and magazine images using packing tape, acetone, gel medium and hand sanitizer. Then I learned how to layer these images in wax.
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The trade-off for being a middle-class transsexual with access to medical care is that it is socially acceptable to ask questions about my genitalia.
As solidly middle-class the questions used to offend me.
But now I think differently.
My privacy won’t protect me from whatever it is I think I don’t like. My body history is available via bureaucratic changes in the M/F category to anyone with half a lick of intelligence. My privacy won’t take away from fear, either. If I’m afraid there is something wrong with my body, then the “did you have the surgery” question seems terribly outrageous.
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I am really great at is being a female-to-male transsexual. Having lived as a man for the last fourteen years, this ever changing body of mine has forced me to assess and reassess where I am at in my body, who I am in my body and why I care.
Unfortunately, becoming a fantastic transsexual doesn’t earn me much money. I’ve received some recognition in the college campus/blogosphere/very-important-tranniesphere schema, but Oprah won’t be calling me to discuss why gender works or doesn’t work.
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It’s everywhere in America. Our language. Our forms. Our public bathrooms. Our clothes. Our birth certificates.
Sex segregation is so pervasive that I’m struggling to find a space-physical, psychic, bureaucratic-that isn’t sex segregated. Seriously, right? I think everyone has to come to terms with this segregation, whether they agree with it or not. Just think about our family members who use third pronouns, how much explaining they have to do just over two or three simple (hahahahah! right.) words.
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In no particular order:
Tell a Fascinating Gender Story
How Not to be a Tool as an FtM
Quite Simply the Dumbest Paradigm of Gender Relationships
What Does Peace Look Like When You are at War With Yourself?
The Secret to Transsexual Success
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Transgender Cartoons! Gender Revolt