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Monthly Archives: October 2008
Problematic Language
Before I even go into discussing problematic language used by and about trans people, I want to talk a little bit about why I find it important.
Firstly, full disclosure: a few years ago (in what seems now like a previous life), I was a student of linguistics. I was particularly interested in the language of marginalized groups, specifically GLB people with non-normative gender expressions. That I am interested in the language politics of the trans community is not surprising.
I’ve only been involved in trans communities for a couple of years now, but I have definitely noticed a language shift. In many cases, terminology that was accepted and commonplace is increasingly considered trans-negative or offensive.
Personally, I attribute this trend to the further solidification of trans communities. We’re communicating with one another and with cis people in forums, on blogs, and in person. Shit, we’re even starting to get books published that aren’t memoirs! We’ve got a long way to go, of course, but we’ve come an incredibly long way, and our language reflects that.
The stories of our bodies, our experiences, and our identities have traditionally been told from a perspective of assumed cissexual superiority. Increasingly, trans people want to be able to speak to one another or to cis people in our own words–words that reflect our lived experiences and empower us as trans people. That means developing a new, trans-positive vocabulary. It also means re-examining the words we use (and the words cis people use for us), tossing out words and phrases that don’t pass muster, and replacing them with better ones.
I want to own up to having used basically all of the below terms at one time or another. Often, I still use words and phrases that feel kind of fucked up, simply because I haven’t yet found a better alternative. But I’m always looking and, as such, this list will always be a work-in-progress.
That being said, here are some of the problematic terms used to describe people’s physical bodies, and some better alternatives:
“Bio-”: As in “bioguy”, “biological woman”, and “bio-male”.
This one is really popular, and it’s got several issues. Firstly, it implies that trans people are not “biological”. Obviously, we’re not cyborgs; we’re not artificial or synthetic (“We can rebuild him–we have the technology–”). In my experience, this is the most commonly cited reason many trans folks are uncomfortable with this usage.
More problematically in my opinion is the whole idea of “biological” gender/sex. The physical traits that we consider gendered vary by incredible amounts–among cis people and trans people. Both cissexual women and transsexual women often have “biologically male” facial hair, for example. On the biological level, though, almost every person will possess physical traits of both “biological” sexes. Besides, after some time on HRT, transsexual folks’ biology is within the “normal” realm of cissexual folks’ biology, with only a very few exceptions.
Usually (at least among trans guys), “biological” is used to refer to a person’s genitals (as in “bio-cock”). Biological gender is so much more complex than genital configuration, and we should really come up with a more direct and accurate way to talk about our junk. Beyond that, outward genitals are just being treated as indicators for the rest of a person’s “biology”, which is why a post-operative trans woman is never referred to as a “biological woman”.
And don’t get me started on why “biological gender” (usually “male” and “female”) is conflated with social gender (usually “man/boy/guy” and “woman/girl”). “Bio-man”–Seriously? That sounds like some shitty drug store Halloween costume.
Since “biology” is so much more than sex organs and chromosomes. Nobody really knows what causes some people to identify as a sex/gender other than the one they were assigned at birth. It’s quite likely that gender identity is determined biologically in both trans and cis people.
“Biological sex” is a convenient social fiction that is mostly correct, most of the time. It’s not an objective, observable fact; it’s often an arbitrary decision. A decision that’s consistently valued above the identities and the realities (and, often, the biologies) of trans people.
“Genetic-”: I’ve most often seen this as “genetic girl”, and occasionally in constructions like “XY males”.
The idea of genetic sex is a lot like biological sex, only it’s more specifically about a person’s assumed chromosomal makeup. I say “assumed”, because few people know their own chromosomal makeup, much less anyone else’s. You can have known someone intimately and sexually for years and not know their chromosomal sex.
It’s more than just XX and XY. My brother, for example, was almost out of high school before he learned that he is chromosomally intersex; his body (internally and externally) is more or less “normal” for a person of his birth-assigned gender and age, but a karyotype revealed his chromosomes are XXY–Kleinfelter’s Syndrome.
Most people would consider my brother a “genetic male”. They’d probably also consider women and girls with Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome to be “genetic females”, despite their XY chromosomes. Not that they’d know anyway. My brother, along with many (if not most) intersex and post-transition transsexual people, would just be assumed to be “genetic” members of their identified sex.
That’s what it is most of the time. It’s the [occasionally incorrect] assumption that you can tell who is and is not a “genetic” member of their sex/gender, based on how you perceive their body.
“Natal-”: Usually “natal women”, occasionally “natal females”.
Almost identical to “biological woman”, “Natal woman” makes no sense. Perhaps even less sense, considering that fetuses have no social gender whatsoever (and if they did, they probably wouldn’t be given the adult genders “men” and “women”).
The idea of “natal sex” is similarly problematic. Sex differentiation happens a lot later during gestation than we like to think–hormone levels, genital development, etc. Without an amniocentisis, there’s no way of identifying a fetus’ sex chromosomes either.
“-bodied”: As in female-bodied and male-bodied. Occasionally trans-bodied.
This one is everywhere. I can completely and totally understand the temptation to use this phrase. Discussion of trans* physical embodiment is a tricky issue. I have absolutely no problem with people using the term to describe themselves, but I often see it used for other people–usually anonymous strangers over the internet. Even when used in person, it’s usually directed at a person or a group of people that the speaker has never seen unclothed.
But what does it even mean to be “female-bodied” (using the version I’m most familiar with)? As I pointed out earlier, there is an incredible amount of variation between cissexual bodies. To look at an extreme case: if a cissexual woman lost her breasts, her uterus, her cervix, her ovaries, and her vagina (not to mention her hair) due to disease, is she no longer “female-bodied”? What about a post-HRT transsexual man who has had reconstructive chest surgery, a hysterectomy and oophorectomy, a vaginectomy, and a phalloplasty?
A lot of the time, it’s used as a sort of euphemism for someone’s [often assumed] genital configuration. And, honestly, can everybody just stop treating our crotches as the be-all-end-all of sex and gender? Reducing an entire body down to its bits and pieces is weird at best and misogynistic at worst. Repeat after me: “Trans women are more than just their surgical status.”
My idea of a “female body” is the body of a person who identifies their body as female. Yes, that leaves us with some non-op no-ho bleeds-every-month-like-clockwork female-assigned-at-birth people with male bodies (and some with female bodies). It means that there are transsexual women with female bodies (and some with male bodies).
It also means that the phrase “female-bodied” becomes meaningless when applied to large groups of people (such as trans men), as it doesn’t actually refer to any specific set of characteristics. Good. With some luck, it’ll disappear completely from the lexicon. I’ve spent more time than I care to admit educating cis people about the failings of assuming strangers’ genders; it’s vexing to feel the need to explain to other trans people the pitfalls of assuming others’ “biological sex”. You know–out of the cissexual-assumption frying pan and into the biological-determinism oven and all that.
So, what are we supposed to use instead? I don’t have any hard and fast answers; the vocabulary is very new and has a lot of holes. I can tell you what I use and why.
“Birth-assigned-”: As in female-assigned-at-birth or birth-assigned-male. Refers to sex designation at birth. Often abbreviated FAAB/MAAB.
I like this one pretty well. I use it all the time. When a child is born (at least in my geographic location), a legal gender is assigned to them based on the presence or absence of a penis. The question of whether it’s a “penis” or “clitoromegaly” can be kind of a grey area in some infants, and it’s my understanding that the matter is usually solved with a ruler. And–to put it crudely–sometimes a scalpel. It’s just that fucking important for us to be one or the other.
Birth-assignation is something that’s near-universal, and is as binary as my culture’s idea of gender, which is pretty convenient (as binaries tend to be). It doesn’t imply any knowledge beyond that–none of that bullshit about “biology”. It’s also worthy of note that “birth-assigned” puts the focus on the active gendering of an infant–it’s not something that’s self-evident and/or magical; it’s a doctor’s opinion of a baby’s genital configuration.
As I use it most often, it’s a way to group people who were female-assigned, but who don’t identify as female/women, as in “FAAB trans people”. It includes genderqueer/gender-variant people, trans-identified people, and/or people of trans experience–folks who seem to have a lot to talk about, and occasionally it’s useful to make a distinction. It also gets me out of saying problematic shit like “the trans-masculine spectrum”, my hatred of which I will detail at a later date.
It is problematic in the sense that it contains the word “female” to describe a group of people who don’t identify with it–including a lot of male people. I’m ambivalent on this point, though. Within the larger trans community, the only thing we have in common is often our lack of identification with our birth-assigned genders.
When used outside of the trans community, though, I am wary of any terms that define trans people by their birth-designations. If there is no reason to reference someon’s trans status, transition, or birth-assigned sex, why is it being mentioned? To me, there is an important difference between these two sentences:
Okay: “When women’s spaces are advertised as trans-inclusive, they are often only inclusive of FAAB trans people, and not MAAB trans people.”
“Cis-”: The prefix “cis-” meaning “on the same side of”. As in cissexual/cisgender.
It’s preferred for a reason; it’s accurate and good. It’s spread to the point where it’s pretty safe to use it on the internet in trans and feminist discussions of gender. And it’s really easy to explain to someone who cares to listen. I hope that it’ll soon be included in “Trans 101″. Here’s to hoping it’ll replace “normal”, “regular”, “real”, “actual”, “bio”, “genetic”, “natal”, and any other such nonsense.
Some folks consider “cis-” to be offensive, because it isn’t a word they chose to describe themselves. That’s sort of the point. People who are not trans don’t have to describe the relationship they have to their sex/gender. It’s just understood. They don’t need words for it, because all of the words to describe sex and gender were created by cis people, for cis people.
That’s part of what privilege is. It’s not having to make a distinction between yourself, and what’s considered “normal”. White people often don’t think of themselves as “white”, because whiteness is the default assumption. At one point, straight people didn’t think of themselves as “straight”, because heterosexuality was just normal, healthy sexuality, and homosexuality was a deviation.
White people have a race. Straight people have a sexual orientation. Cis people have a gender identity. They/we just don’t have to think about those privileged identities in our daily lives. Having that privilege pointed out might make them/us feel uncomfortable, or even attacked. If so, it’s probably a good idea to figure out why. Until then, folks who are institutionally oppressed will continue to use language that decentralizes the experience of the privileged.
It’s worth noting here, if I haven’t elsewhere, that I don’t consider cisgender and cissexual to be synonyms. I’ll explain why at a later date.
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Genderqueer Cissexism
I’m fairly comfortable and confident these days about my negotiation/navigation of my genderqueer identity and my transsexual experience. Also, I’m beginning to see the reason that I am so much more distressed by genderqueer ignorance than I am by transsexual ignorance:
Transsexual people have exactly one thing in common, the way I see it–our birth-assignation (usually based on external genitals) does not match our brain sex. A trans person saying some fucked up bullshit is annoying, but I can separate myself from it without much effort, in much the same way as I approach individual linguists’ failures.
I’ve always seen a genderqueer identity as one that arises after a period of self-examination–of cultural gender norms, of sexism, of the gendered meanings placed on bodies based on anatomy and/or presentation. I feel that I share a lot more in common with genderqueer people–values, perceptions, ideals.
I know that it’s more complicated than that, and much of the time neither of those statements are true, but that’s my subconscious view.
Lately, I’ve been especially uncomfortable when cissexual gender-variant folks conflate transsexuality with gender variance. Obviously there are a lot of people who do consider their own transsexuality a gender-variant experience (valid, of course); the communities share several experiences and issues (because it’s all the same to cissexist/transphobic society). But I think that the size and shape of my genitals at birth is irrelevant to my current gender identity/expression unless I specifically say so. I don’t want to have meanings projected onto my body/identity by anybody else, and I guess I thought that might go without saying in a genderqueer community.
I feel like there’s an expectation, spoken and unspoken, for transsexuals to disclose in discussions about gender, even in genderqueer spaces. The recent posts in
genderqueer are great examples of that. The poster seemed to want to compare how students gendered [photographed] subjects to the actual gender identities of the subjects. People of all genders (including non-gender-variant identities) would be included; I think is a pretty valid exercise if you’re wanting to start a conversation about gender and gendering.
But the poster also mentioned that they’d also reveal the subject’s birth assignation, if it differed from a person’s gender presentation. They flat-out refused to see that this could ever possibly be perceived as problematic/fetishistic/cissexist/transphobic–or irrelevant. Honestly, I’d have considered sending a photo their way if they’d gone about it differently (and not been a complete ass). If I’d have been shown in the slideshow, I’d be gendered as male and my gender identity would then be revealed as genderqueer femme. If I had the option of not disclosing my trans status if I didn’t want to, then I wouldn’t find that problematic at all.
As far as I’m concerned, I’d even consider it relevant if at the end of the slideshow she mentioned that some of the subjects were transsexual without disclosing anyone’s birth-assignation. Inevitably, folks would try to “spot the tr***y”, and another kind of conversation could be started that could be really productive. Namely that, when you’re looking, you’ll see tr***ies everywhere. Phantom tr***ies where no tr***ies exist. Under that kind of microscope, nobody passes. But it’s rare that a cissexual person is put under that microscope. A cissexual woman with a big nose just has a big nose; a transsexual woman “looks like a man”. A short guy is just short unless he’s “really a woman”.
A lot of bullshit happened around those particular posts, and the moderators handled it surprisingly well. But it just served to remind me that, to many folks in the genderqueer community, my transsexuality is always relevant to any discussion about gender. I am expected to disclose. That’d be the “genderqueer” thing to do. I should want to “educate” people about gender variance, using my transsexuality.
The shitty thing about all this is that I’m neither interested in being stealth at this point in my life, nor ashamed of my transsexuality (contrary to popular belief, “stealth” and “shame” are not the same thing). But I’d like to be able to disclose without completely derailing what I’m saying by having the person I’m speaking with completely rearrange their conception of me. It’s similar to how frustrated I get when I disclose to cissexual gender-conforming folks and suddenly my feminism makes sense; I’m speaking as a man, not as a former woman. In some situations, I want to be able to speak as a genderqueer person, not as a transsexual. An angry transsexual who’s quibbling over such unimportant things and making really important allies and great people feel bad… but not really, because for every person who calls out an “ally” for something, there are three people stroking their ego and telling them not to listen to what those mean cisphobes are saying.
This is why every time I enter a conversation with other genderqueer people, I have to carefully decide whether or not to disclose. And it’s never easy. And my internalized cissexism really rears its head, because I feel guilty for not wanting to diclose. I feel like they truly do have a right to know, and I really should be endlessly patient with well-meaning(?) bullshit–or, better yet, I should just be quiet, because I’m really hurting The Cause.
And that’s what’s really fucked up.
I know that I’ve said some really stupid shit in the past few years I’ve been a part of the trans community. I’ve said transphobic shit, cissexist shit, and I’m owning it. I still do sometimes, and I have a lot more internalized transphobia/cissexism than I had at first realized. And, I’m sure, much more than I know now.
I think that’s part of why I’m wanting to become more active as a genderqueer trans person. At this point in my life, I seem to be in the peculiarly awkward place of being both transsexual and genderqueer, so I’m in a fairly good place to attempt to educate people who are transsexual or genderqueer. In the online communities I’m part of, that tends to take more place on the genderqueer end, because cissexist bullshit seems to get called out much, much less in genderqueer spaces, compared to cisgenderist bullshit in the transsexual communities. To be fair, that’s probably because there seem to be [understandably?] more genderqueer folks in trans spaces than transsexual folks in genderqueer spaces.
But saying something feels so much fucking better than just getting mad. It’s so much more satisfying than being embarrassed to be genderqueer.
I’ve been thinking lately that the fails seem to happen around certain subjects–the “ethics” of disclosure/non-disclosure, socialization, women’s spaces, and third-gendering trans people, etc. It might be worth my time and effort to start compiling a post/zine/epically long book for cissexual genderqueers about being better allies to transsexual people.
I wonder who would bother reading it.
Dear Cis Moderator
of an online support group I’m a member of:
Your list is dying, so I know it doesn’t matter. And I think that J is right, and it’s not worth my time and effort to try to explain this to you, because you won’t get it anyway.
I’m so sorry that it offended your delicate sensibilities as a RN that some guy is trying to start some ill-fated “trans-masculine support network” online and he used the phrase “not the watery BS the doctors want to tell you” and spoke in his personal website about the hoops he’s had to jump through to obtain medical care and the huge financial burden of starting and maintaining HRT…
But no trans person on this list or anywhere needs a lecture from your class-privileged cissexual ass about how there are great medical professionals out there who want to help us. And about how the “hoops” are really there for a purpose, and do we know what that purpose is? And have we heard of the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care?
We should be so appreciative, right, that some of us are now allowed to transition–no, to live–in your world? We should ignore the fact that medical professionals are always denying us treatment, blaming all our health problems on our HRT, and occasionally just letting us fucking die on the side of the fucking road because our genitals freak them out, right? Because we have you on our side to tell us:
“As a nurse I see this as a medical condition, and needs treatment by a variety of methods, counseling, medication and surgery. . . I have been down this path with my husband for 6 years. One reason why we stay moderating this site is because we want to make sure that the information given out. . . is accurate and safe.“
It all makes sense–trans men sharing personal experiences with each other online is a terrible idea, but taking [unsolicited] medical advice from some condescending stranger online is brilliant! We definitely don’t already have enough trans male nursing students on the internet that won’t shut the fuck up–your input is appreciated.
Oh, and thank you, Noble Ally, for validating my transsexuality! I’m glad you and the other gatekeepers–I mean medical professionals–think that my personal transition path is worth treating… or do I have to want genital surgery too? I mean, fuck all those fakers who only need/want “part” of the treatment options available–we know what’s really better for them to do to ease their gender/body dysphoria. In your professional opinion, should we “raise” the requirements for treatment–to keep everyone safer, and to make sure that nobody transitions who would make us look bad? Like queers? Poor folks? Sex workers? Disabled people? Am I leaving anyone out?
In short, fuck you and the fucking horse you fucking rode in on. Fuck.
No Love,
Caleb
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One Year

1 Year on Testosterone
voice clip : 1 year
Speaking of patches, my soul patch has probably doubled in size in the past month, giving it about 12 hairs under my chin, with about 8 more rising up from my chin to meet it. My mustache is coming in at about the same rate, with random hairs getting longer, then turning darker and thicker. My cheeks are still ever-so-slowly filling in. My facial acne is still concentrated in the areas where new facial hairs are thinking about sprouting; most of my problems are on my lower cheeks and my upper lip.
I feel like my belly is changing shape lately. I’ve had a pot belly ever since I can remember but now it’s getting more pot-like, and reminding more and more of my father’s and my uncles’ bellies. I’m quite self-conscious about it, and I’m incredibly worried that it’ll be even harder after surgery, because it’ll be more noticeable to me. I’ve still got some acne on my shoulders, after a brief period of improvement. My dick has gotten a good bit thicker, too. As far as body hair goes, my chest and stomach are covered, and it looks like I’m going to get more hair on the backs of my hands soon.