So why am I depressed? I've been reading a lot of trans*scribe testimonies lately. I feel like I've found people who validate my experiences, my identity, because their concerns and reactions and focus are so similar to mine, despite transitioning in the opposite direction, as it were. I should feel like a member of a community, I should feel valid and real and unapologetic. And to a small extent I do.
Except that at the end of every day, my boyfriend comes home from work. My big muscular fuzzy deep-voiced boyfriend. And I enjoy having someone to care for and to care for me, and he is a very good man. But I know that the moment I take any real step towards self-actualization, he'll be the most supportive "friend" I've got. And it breaks my heart. I'm basically trading any progress in self-actualization for keeping this relationship alive. And this isn't the only relationship. My parents, my school-mates, potential future employers and judgment-makers have all held me back. But in this moment, in these circumstances, his influence is the most keenly felt, and I find myself blaming him in this moment when as I am discovering this community of people who are, without addressing me, telling me that my experiences are real and that transition may really be the answer to a happy life, I am still not moving forward in any physical (or even un-anonymously social) way.
It's not like I haven't been in this situation before. Being with a man who says "I like women, I understand that you feel like a man on the inside but that won't really matter to me until you actually change your body so until then we can fuck and think about a future together where you never change your body." In a very convoluted way, it's disrespectful. To make so clear that their romantic love is conditional on my physical appearance and gender-parts... and to allow the relationship to continue, is pretty much owning that they are holding me hostage, forcing me to choose between being loved and being myself. And that's sort of a horrible thing to do. It's also sort of my fault, because, well, I allowed it to happen. It's always my choice to acknowledge their unilateral sexuality, leave the relationship and continue untethered on my journey of self-actualization. But let's be real, lonely is a terrible option. It's the reason I've been in the closet this long.
And yes, I've only recently begun using the term "in the closet" to refer to myself. Because it is so fucking true. I'm so admiring and jealous of my friends who are OUT and PROUD, but then, they're mostly gay white men. And white male privilege really trumps a lot. Not to mention that "homosexual" is really the only atypical sexuality that's being flaunted in the media as the big target of tolerance. Gender-fluidity is hardly addressed. Why? Because we have "rights". A transgender person can get their birth certificate sexual assignment changed IF they undergo correctional surgery.
Well that's just great. I feel like I'm going to have a hard time explaining to people why this is unfair. In my mind, it really boils down to this; surgery is scary, and irreversible. Far from "coming out" to your friends by just saying "hey I'm gay", what's asked of transgender people is to put their bodies UNDER THE KNIFE in order to declare their identity. I understand the initial logic. Your stereotypical trans person has some parts that you can usually assume they don't want anymore, either testicles or chesticles. Why wouldn't they want to get those things surgically removed?
Well, let's look at a few arguments. First, they don't want to permanently remove the possibility of having biological children. I think everybody can get on that boat. Second, they don't want to leave scars on their bodies that would prevent a normal (sex) life. That could do with some more elaboration but I'll leave it for now. Third, for quite a few transgender people it's not really about the nibbly bits, it's about presentation! The clothes, the styles, the way they're treated by others. I happen to be one of those people. Yes, I find my breasts to be a passing annoyance and having a vagina is an absolute pain in the crotch, but with circumspection it seems a fair bit better than having super-sensitive shut-down switches knocking about and getting stuck to the side of your leg. I have penis envy sometimes. I have zero scrotum envy. But what I really have is "sir" envy. I just want to be treated like a man, to be allowed to participate in things that men do without getting weird looks (although frankly the days of joining the school wrestling team and games of pick-up basketball are behind me). And yes, in my society women get to do lots of things that men get to, and quite a few things that men don't. Apparently girls can join high school wrestling teams now. Doesn't matter. I want to be called sir and invited to the table as "one of the boys." It's stupidly simple.
Which is why I think that my friends are going to have an extra-hard time treating me as I wish to be treated, because they won't see any of the changes they're looking for. I may not even keep my hair short. Talk about confusion. But this will certainly be the event in which I find out who my real friends are. I'm sure there will be a few disappointed faces from the straight men, but they'll get over it.
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