(trans)prose

Lately there have been a lot of Internet discussions about disclosure of transsexual history to romantic partners.  I haven’t really worked out entirely what I feel on the subject, but I’m going to flesh it out a bit here.

I anticipate that I will choose to disclose to most people with whom I anticipate any kind of close relationship–both my friends and my lovers and probably my coworkers.  When I think about why, with regards to non-sexual relationships, it’s mostly because I don’t really want to go through all the effort to avoid disclosing by accident.  Shit comes up.  I’m continually surprised at how OFTEN it does.  And it makes for some hilarious jokes.  With regards to sexual relationships, I want to be able to be touched and receive pleasure and be eroticized within the context of the body that I have… usually.  This doesn’t apply to all the casual sex I want to have post-op.  Unless my sexual wiring changes significantly, I’ll probably have plenty of encounters in which I am sexual with other guys (cissexual and transsexual) and don’t disclose, because, frankly, I don’t need to feel emotionally close to someone I’m blowing in a bathroom–that being sort of the point.

I don’t feel that anyone has a place to judge another person’s level of disclosure with regards to sex.  That’s not just my take on transsexual history.  It’s also my take on STIs, marital status, etc.  Sex is about negotiation and risk level.  If you aren’t interested in contracting an infection, then have protected sex every time, abstain from particular activities (or all activities), or what have you, until you’re able to negotiate sexuality on your terms in a way that makes you feel safe.  I have a similar view of transsexual history disclosure.  It’s arrogant to assume that nobody your genitals come into contact with could possibly have an STI or a wife (or that they’d tell you if they did).  And it smacks of cissexual privilege to assume that nobody you come into contact with has a transsexual history, or to assume that you would know if you did.

Sure, there are risks involved for the non-disclosing and the disclosing transsexual person, but it’s their decision to make, and not a question of ethics, and not an appropriate subject for debate.

I went to the university’s “Gender Chat” on Tuesday.  Not to process gender issues of my own, but to think about gender issues in general, and because it’s comforting to me to hear other folks’ gender-related thoughts.

When K and I first showed up, I think I was quickly introduced to the new LGBT director, and that made me think about K and his relationship to my gender and my transition.  I’ve always made it really clear that, at this point in my life and in our relationship, it’s important to me that K feel able to disclose my trans status when/if he wants to, to whomever he wants to.  And I think he believes me.  I’m pretty sure, anyway.  But, I’ve definitely noticed that he’s become as ambivalent about when/how/if to disclose as I have.  I worry some that it’s more about making me comfortable than making himself comfortable, but K of course is capable of meeting his own needs in this regard.  Still, I wonder about our visibility/invisibility.

It’s pretty straightforward outside of queer spaces–it all depends on how K is being perceived.  We’re either gay men, or a kinda funny looking straight couple.  People usually seem to think we’re pretty precious, either way.  But inside queer space, we’re looked at for longer.  People who assume K is a lesbian are baffled, and once they see how gay I am, usually just end up confused and fascinated.  People who know K’s a trans guy focus directly and pointedly on me.  I think it’s to figure out if I’m a cissexual gay man who’s actually okay with dating pre/no-ho pre-non/op guys (you know, a PINK unicorn, even more rare than the regular unicorns who will date post-transition trans men), or a trans man, or what.  That annoys me slightly.  I guess I could interpret that as “I’m okay with however we’re perceived, so long as my trans status isn’t brought up”.

So, I wonder how the director perceived me.  She’ll know eventually, probably, if I hang around.  But figuring out when to disclose is weird and new, and I don’t want to look like an ass, like “Hi, I’m Caleb–would you like to hear about my genital configuration?”  And, of course, there’s the fact that I don’t really like talking about it all that much anyway.  It was especially strange because I wasn’t sure if the person I was actually talking to (who is a newly-out trans woman) knew, and I definitely wanted to give her the secret handshake or whatever, so she’d know there was a community here.  Even if it is a bit of a sausage party… sort of.

In introductions, I didn’t think to continue the “name + pronoun” intro that K had tried to start, although I really should’ve thought to; I’m not really interested in othering people whose gender reception and pronoun preference don’t match just so I can enjoy my new privilege.  I was just too engrossed in thought, I guess.  Oh, and then I didn’t come out at first, because there were three people there (two facilitators and a student) I wanted to feel out first.

It’s almost like being drunk on power.  I have the power to have someone I just met never, ever know that I am not a cissexual man.  And it’s hard coming out sometimes, even in a situation in which I want to, like gender chat.  I’m not sure if I’ve written about it here, or just spoken about it in private conversations, but disclosing is different than coming out, by miles and miles.  Coming out as trans meant seeking respect for my identity.  It meant giving someone to whom I’m disclosing to know more about me, to get a more complete and accurate idea of who I am as a person.  It was a lot like coming out as queer.  It was kind of empowering in a way.

Disclosing doesn’t make me feel that way.  Disclosing to people I assume are cissexual has, in general, more cons than pros.  The pros are mostly that I get to know whether the person I’m coming out to is a transphobic douchebag I wouldn’t want to be friends with anyway, and that the person won’t be confused when I talk about things like my boobs, my puberty, my menopause, my uterus, my ovaries, my ex-lesbianism, my intimate familiarity with things that most guys know absolutely nothing about.  That’s about where the good bits end.  Someone finding out that I lived as female-ish until about a year ago causes most cissexual folks to start painting a mental picture of me that’s 1) inappropriate and 2) wrong:

My body becomes scrutinized, and if one more fucking person congratulates me on how “real” or “bio” or “genetic” or “magickal” I look for a transsexual (read: woman), I might start congratulating them on how trans they look.  Especially feminine cis women–they all look like femme trans women to me, anyway.  It’s so nice that they can go around looking trans to me, despite being [usually] uterus-laden imposters.

No, I haven’t had any surgeries.  Yes, binding fucking hurts.

No, you had it right the first time.  I’m faggy in the same way as a cis queer guy.  It’s not a holdover from my “natural” womanly mcvaginaness.

No, I’m not dating K because I only date other trans people, nor am I dating him because only other trans people will date me.

No, my family doesn’t need to be praised from the rooftops for not disowning me because of my decision to transition; if you wouldn’t be supportive and understanding of a trans family member, that makes you an asshole, it doesn’t make my family angelic.

Because the male-female spectrum exists de facto, “coming out” put me more towards the male end, which felt more accurate; “disclosing” puts me more towards the female end, which feels less accurate.  The way I’m perceived now is almost exactly how I perceive myself, and how I want to be perceived (fantasies of waking up one morning and having the body of my tall, thin, twinky, genderqueer fag roommate aside).  It’s not as easy to convince myself to go through all that when I don’t usually get anything out of it, except someone thinking that we’re BFFs and that I’ve really opened up to them.

K and I went to The Grill late that night and talked, and I think I’m getting somewhere with my genderqueer stuff.  I’ve been examining my genderqueer identity lately, because I’m the type to pick at a bug bite or a scab.  And there’s some stuff about all this that just sits wrong with me, and I want to figure out if “genderqueer” is a vestigial identity at this point, or if it’s just evolved.

When I was living as female, before I transitioned, being genderqueer, for me, meant a freedom to express masculinity/maleness in a way that resonated with me, without invalidating or repressing my feminine qualities.  Even when I knew I would transition medically, I still identified with “trans-masculine” genderqueers and lesbians/queer women.  We looked alike.  Our experiences were a lot alike, or so I felt.

That’s just not the case at this point in my life.  My maleness is now affirmed by basically everyone I interact with.  These days, my non-binary identity is more about my expressions of queer maleness and femininity.  The genderqueer issues I wrestle with myself cause me to identify pretty strongly with genderqueer-identified people whose gender expressions/presentations usually align with binary maleness/masculinity.

Despite all the theory, I’ve never really seen too much breaking down of binaries, and the idea of the “spectrum” sort of looms large.  I feel like “transmasculine” people and “transfeminine” people are quietly pushed to either side, according to birth-assignation.  I feel like if my trans status is known, I’m pushed to the wrong sort of side–like I’m seen as the far-end of the female masculinity spectrum.  And, I know that tons of guys who ID as genderqueer totally see themselves this way, which is fine.  I just don’t.  Maybe a part of that separation is because the genderqueer community is so heavily female-assigned and currently-or-formerly-lesbian-identified?

I think that may be the root of the anti-cissexual male sentiment that shows up/peeks out sometimes in my conversations with other genderqueers.  And I’m not very comfortable with that idea.  At this point in my life, the only essential difference between me and a cissexual guy is what’s under our clothes.  And I’ve seen trans guys get away with so much misogyny and so much bullshit, and even if they’re called on it, they get the benefit of the doubt.  The possiblity that cissexual men may make those exact same mistakes is used as the reasoning for their exclusion.  I’m not interested in being a part of anything that would include me but would exclude cis men, because, as someone has pointed out, that is so literally phallocentric.

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

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.

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.

A good friend of mine shared with me an article that got me thinking about something tangential.

I automatically prickle when I see/hear/read someone who I assume (sometimes inaccurately, I’m sure) is a cissexual woman who passes as gender-normative say that they “used to identify as bisexual” but then started to identify as queer, because they “didn’t want to identify with a binary system of sexuality”.

Obviously, I’d never want to keep anybody from identifying their sexuality by whatever words they choose, for whatever motives.  But I think I’m starting to realize that I don’t find sexuality to be above criticism.  Of course, that didn’t sink in until I was the one being non-consensually objectified, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

I mention this a lot, but I have never once heard that tired “binary system of sexuality” shit about heterosexuality or homosexuality.  The folks I’ve known who now identify as queer after formerly identifying as bisexual tend to be either genderqueer themselves, or partners and close friends of genderqueer-identified people.

But I find myself hearing and reading it a lot from people who used to identify as straight/gay, but who find themselves dating or attracted to a trans person, regardless of whether the trans person’s actual gender identity is non-binary.

If I hadn’t worked through my internalized biphobia, I’d probably be identifying as “queer” instead of bisexual (clarification: I do describe my sexuality as “queer”, although I identify as bisexual), the same way I once identified as “lesbian” instead of bisexual.  And I’m positive that I’m not alone.  I didn’t spend much time with other queer women, but almost every lesbian-identified friend I had was secretly bisexual.  We/they just didn’t want the invisibility and invalidation bisexual women face, within and outside the queer community.

I also have seen it a lot from queer women who either have a Thing for [early-/non- medically transitioning] trans guys, (again, regardless of the trans person’s actual gender identity).  I think that it’s probably at least a little bit about biphobia, but it often ends up invalidating the maleness of cisgender trans guys.  If those trans guys were really male to them, then I doubt I’d have to read this little aside about them doing their part to smash the binary by being open to dating a trans person.  They’d actually have to figure out what their attraction to men means for them and their sexualities, and what it means for their communities.  I think it’s just a lot easier to ungender trans men than it is to work through their own shit.

I know people who are exceptions to this, of course.  But I’ve been around awhile.  Long enough to notice a trend.

One reason that I’m pulling away from trans spaces for a while is to get away from cis people talking about cis issues as they pertain to trans people.  I have my own internalized transphobia to deal with.  I have to disentangle it from my genderqueer identity.  It’s fucking hard to do that when everywhere I look, cisgender trans people are being ungendered in the name of genderqueer politics.  I need to deal with internalized homophobia and biphobia again–because it’s different now that I’m perceived as male.  And it’s really hard to do that when attraction to trans people (cisgender and genderqueer) is making people “queer”.

If I don’t somewhat shield myself from other people’s bullshit, how can I ever live my truth as a queer* genderqueer** trans*** man****?

Also, can we all just STFU about how we feel about other people’s genitals, namely factory-issue dicks?  It’s not cute, or funny, and doesn’t make you a more authentic member of your sexual identity.  It comes across as derogatory towards the people who love (and have!) those genitals, and dismissive of the genital dysphoria of your [other] trans friends–who might not have genital dysphoria, but sure as fuck wouldn’t tell you if they did.

* my sexuality; my attraction to people’s bodies and identities on their own terms; unrelated to my trans status or genderqueer identity
** my gender identity and expression; my claiming my right to femininity as a man, a queer man, and a trans man; NOT my past, present or future body
*** the history of my body; my dysphoria and the steps I’ll always be taking to lessen it
**** my privilege, whether or not it was my birthright; acknowledgement of my institutional power over women, and over those who can’t/don’t/won’t “pass” as cissexual

This is a not-very-well-thought-out response to my friend Samia’s post here.  If you don’t follow that link, this post won’t make any sense.

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I first said this, I think, in a conversation with Huck over at LiveJournal. And I keep thinking about it. Because I think it’s something that I haven’t been able to put my finger on until now.

I perceive there to be a very carefully policed line between “transmasculine” people and “transsexual men”. I don’t think that those words are the best possible ones to describe what I’m referring to, but I also don’t think that the two groups really exist–at least not in the way they’re being used.

I read some of the discussions before the explanation of why they removed trans men from “Top Hot Butches” was posted. And I’ve been paying attention to the kind of langauge that’s used to talk about the kinds of people who were bothered by the list.

And it hit home pretty hard.   The “transsexual men” do it, and the “transmaculine” people do it.  And the cis allies do it.  And people being creepy and fetishistic about it do it.  And, believe me, I have a fucking lot to say about cisgenderism among binary-identified folks (trans and cis).  But something about the subversivism is framed here really fucks with my head.

The idea is that nobody who isn’t a Classic Transsexual could possibly have a hard time with shit like “transmasculine” or that stupid list, or Margaret Cho’s creepy bullshit, or blah blah blah.  The only people who are seeing a problem are portrayed as MTM, binary-identified, male-identified, man-identified, cisgender, not-radical, and stealth (or wanting to be stealth).  And, very often, not queer.

And, it’s a way of silencing concerns.  Because all those things–male identities, nondisclosure, cisgender identities–are perceived as somehow backwards  Or, if not backwards, at least less advanced.  Like no cisgender transsexual male could possibly understand what might make another trans guy identify differently.  Binary identities are less evolved, and not radical, and those identities are treated the way I imagine they treat their grandmothers using the internet.

Even in the “I can see how this is problematic” bits, there’s often a hidden for some of you backwards tr***ies who are holding back our revolution.  Like dissenters need to be humored and shushed, so that everybody can go back to universalizing the experience of some trans male/mascuine people.  The ones they like more.

It’s pretty busted, actually.  I actually hesitate to write anything publicly about this sort of stuff, because I know thatpeople will probably walk away thinking that I’m cisgender.  And I don’t want to be painted as cisgender as a genderqueer person any more than I want to be painted as butch/masculine as a trans male person.

Because I want to say something.  Because these people are my community.  I mean, supposedly.  But I’m pretty sure I’ll be discounted because some people just can’t conceive of someone who is genderqueer and out and queer thinking that it’s fucked up to say shit that projects the identities/interests/experiences of your pet tr***yboys onto all trans male/masculine people.  Not just because I want to stick up for my cisgender transsexual friends. Not just because I love internet drama (although, I do love that shit).

But because it really does hurt me too, as somebody who has a whole lot in common with binary-identified trans men.  One of those things just happens to not be my gender identity.

How do I even start to talk about all this?  How do I even make sense when I have so much fucking shit I want to say.  How do I start, knowing that I’ll be ignored, and slammed, and invalidated?  Is it even worth it to me to try?

Then again, I already feel pretty ignored, and slammed, and invalidated.  So let’s do this shit.

Dear Cissexual Queer/Gender Theorists, Feminists, and Trans Allies:

We need to talk. That’s not quite accurate, actually. I need to talk, and you need to shut up and listen for a minute. Because some of y’all have been talking about me, and you’ve been talking so loudly that you haven’t been hearing what I’m saying. Some of you haven’t even noticed that I’m in the room.

You probably don’t know me. But a few of you seem to think you know everything you need to know. Enough to fill up chapters in academic texts or pages on your blogs. Enough to make fetishistic jokes or web comics. Enough to name my genitals for me

To be fair, y’all probably didn’t even realize you were talking about me specifically, most of the time. Thanks to testosterone and chest reconstruction surgery, you couldn’t pick me out of a crowd. But, make no mistake—you’re talking about my identity and my experience, too. And I’m tired of being made to feel invisible, or like I shouldn’t speak up about this stuff. So I’m going to offer a few suggestions, and give you yet another chance to respect my identity, and the identities of other people that you’ve been (unintentionally, I’m sure) stomping all over.

Now take a seat, because this might take a few single-spaced pages.  Maybe take a few notes this time, since you obviously forgot about the last thirty times we’ve had discussions like this.

First, in order to respect me, you need to work on completely deconstructing the conflation of masculinity and maleness. A lot of y’all have done some great and much-needed work around dismantling the bullshit idea that masculinity is the sole property of male people. But almost in the same breath, some of you seem to forget that there is nothing inherently masculine about maleness.

I’m male, but I’m not masculine-identified. At all. I don’t care how I look to you. I don’t care if you know that I’m trans. I don’t even care if you know that I identified as an andro dyke for a minute. I’m still not masculine. My experience is not a masculine experience. Period. If, for any reason(s) you think that I am, or if you don’t find it to be a big deal when my femme identity is invalidated, or if you know that I’m feminine, but—goshdarnit—you just keep forgetting? Then you need to check your shit.

Part of respecting me has to include calling bullshit on things that imply, whether directly or indirectly, that male people have inherent masculinity. At the very least, it requires that you notice when it happens. In case you’re confused, here are a couple of examples.

What about when people point out to y’all that it’s problematic to use the word “trans-masculine” to mean all female-assigned people who are masculine-identified, genderqueer-identified, and male-identified, and to exclude all male-assigned people—even masculine- or genderqueer- identified trans female people? I know, I know—“It’s impossible to find a word that will please everybody!” We’ve all heard that one before, right? Be quiet, you’re being divisive. Not to harsh your mellow, but I don’t want to be silenced any more than you do, especially when I can think of several alternatives to “trans-masculine” off the top of my head.

And, I know that lots of female-assigned-at-birth (FAAB) trans people use “transmasculine”. The trans community is only in the beginning stages of trying on new, accurate, and empowering language. We’re going to evolve, and you’re going to have to keep up, and listen to the discussions we’re having.  But, while we’re working on that, how about you stop saying “transmasculine”, if what you’re really trying to do is build a community around what you assume is in the pants of “transmasculine” people (or rather, what you assume isn’t in their pants). And that is what you’re doing, 95% of the time.

It’s important to a lot of folks (for various reasons of variable worth) to have an umbrella term to unite butches to genderqueers to trans guys and everything “in between”. But to say that “trans-masculinity” necessarily encompasses trans maleness is to shoot your trans-feminism in the foot.  Not all cis men are masculine. Many trans women are masculine, and there are many MAAB genderqueer folks who would fit comfortably under the “transmasculine” umbrella. And trans genders are as complex as, and deserve as much respect as, cis genders.

Of course y’all all know that in theory, but I need to see some action.

And when I say “action”, I definitely don’t mean like when “Top Hot Butches” showed up, and it included a metric shit ton of people who were assumed to be masculine, just because they’re male-identified. Oh, and one Riki Wilchins. I’m not sure what Riki Wilchins’ identity is currently, but how—when doing a project about “rejecting compulsory femininity”—is Wilchins theonly MAAB person on that list?

Seriously, why there weren’t way more masculine-identified and genderqueer-identified trans female people on that list? If anybody’s strength and beauty should be celebrated for “reject[ing] compulsory femininity”, in my opinion, it’s them. How many masculine cis female people do you know who have had their femaleness challenged in a meaningful way because they choose to exhibit “intentional masculinity” (and, no, being called “sir” in the checkout line does not count)?

I mean, if the primary criterion for “butchness” is “reject[ing] compulsory femininity”, I’m not sure why male people should even be on a list like that, since there’s nothing “compulsory” about male femininity. Even if the male person is trans. And there’s nothing necessarily “intentional” about trans male masculinity. I’m not even really sure what “intentional” means in that context, actually. Is FAAB masculinity more of a performance than any other gender expression (which can either be “not a performance at all” or “completely a performance”, depending on your views). If it’s not, then why is it mentioned?

The original “Top Hot Butches” appeared to be a celebration of what its author perceived as “butchness”. And—to me at least—it was damn clear that the author’s idea of “butchness” is about female masculinity—specifically, about FAAB masculinity. I hope I don’t even have to go into how fucked up it is to practically go out of your way to praise the masculinity of [trans] male people, while overwhelmingly ignoring the masculinity of [trans] female people.

And, you know what’s not a good excuse? This

I would love suggestions for more butch transwomen to include; I’ve been asking, and looking around, and I did include #84 Riki Wilchins, but surely there must be more than just her. I’m just not familiar with them. It’s so hard to include people you don’t know about, you know? Impossible, in fact. And who I know is completely related to my own standpoint. It’s a huge challenge to get a range of diversity on a list like this.

I find it hard to believe that they were personally familiar with all the FAAB folks they listed. And, even if they were, I think it says volumes about whose and what genders they perceive as “butch”, if they have just happened to never have stumbled upon the writings, activism, contributions, and hotness of masculine-identified MAAB trans people.

It’s a side step, and it avoids something that many folks in the “trans inclusive” queer women’s community need to own up to. If you don’t make space for MAAB trans people in your community, and none show up, whose fault is that? And whose responsibility is it to fix it?

But I don’t even believe for a second that “Top Hot Butches” was really about masculinity, anyway. Because no cis guy (feminine or masculine) would’ve been put on that list, but I have no doubt that—were I a semi-famous openly-trans guy—I’d have been considered for that list without a second thought. I think it’s a safe bet, since I’m pretty sure (at least) one of the guys included in the original list wouldn’t even identify his gender as masculine.

But trans genders are as worthy of respect as cis genders, right? Fortunately, I’m not naïve enough to have dared to hope that the Feministing community would back me up. Instead of calling out cissexism, y’all posted what seemed like a billion comments in which you didn’t notice that there was anything busted going on, or attempted to silence trans people who pointed it out, or—and this was my personal favorite—said shit to the effect of “I can see that this is problematic, but damn that list is hot”. Who doesn’t like their cissexism with a side of fetishism?

The link between masculinity and maleness may have been broken—but only for cis maleness and cis masculinity. I believe that a lot of y’all quietly believe that there is something intrinsically masculine about trans maleness—something that doesn’t exist in cis maleness. And, whatever that thing is, it apparently ties me to this idea of female[-assigned-at-birth] masculinity. And I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that it’s my hypothetical vagina.

That’s not respecting trans genders. That’s cissexism. And there’s no excuse for it. Not “we need more butch visibility”. Not “that’s not what they meant”. Not “[some] trans guys are a part of the community”. And definitely not “ think of it more as a celebration of bending gender norms, rather than a celebration of masculinity” (if you haven’t caught on, that’s fucked up, too). The fact that folks who consider themselves to be trans allies glossed over what amounts to blatant cissexist bullshit. . . it’s disgusting. Even more so because so many of y’all seemed to be overly willing to do so, simply because they liked the eye candy.

Why is it so important for y’all to claim a connection between “butchness”/female masculinity and trans maleness? Sure, connections often exist.  But you never seem to be talking about individual people’s experiences, and their unique relationships to their genders.  That is something to celebrate and honor within your community.  Instead, you’re conscripting all trans male people into your ideas of “butchness”, “trans-masculinity”, and “female masculinity”, without even considering the identities of those of us who are not masculine.

Just because you don’t see us, it doesn’t mean we’re not there. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can generalize the [valid] experiences and identities of the trans guys you do know onto the trans guys you don’t.

And, yes, after the outrage, the trans men were removed from the list.  Last I heard, they were being asked individually whether they’d like to be included.  The non-consensual gendering was an important issue that was appropriately addressed.  But the whole thing still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Just because many of the trans guys listed happen to be okay with being included doesn’t change the facts of why they were included to begin with.  Instead of being carefully chosen in a way that showed respect for their unique identities, they were chosen simply because they’re trans.  They would’ve been chosen even if they hadn’t wanted to be.

Perhaps all’s well that ends well?  But if you make a fucked up assumption about a group that I’m a member of, even if that assumption happens to be true for me?  I’m still going to think you’re an asshole.

This might also be a good time to mention that I’m genderqueer-identified. Does that surprise you? It seems like it should, considering that FAAB trans people who object to this shit are often portrayed as binary-identified, male-identified, cisgender*, not-radical, and “stealth” men of transsexual history. Many of whom don’t even consider themselves trans, much less queer.

But, no. I’m genderqueer. I’m genderqueer, and I’m telling you there’s a fucking problem. And one of these problems is subversivism. This shit is said with an eye roll. It’s a way of recognizing, but essentially dismissing concerns. Because all those things—male identities, nondisclosure, cisgender/binary identites—are automatically assumed to be backwards. Or, if not backwards, at least less evolved.

Lots of y’all seem to imagine that cisgender transsexual men are all so wracked with body dysphoria and internalized transphobia that they couldn’t possibly understand or respect other trans guys’ non-binary identities. Of course those guys have a problem with “transmasculine”, or that stupid list, or the creepy bullshit Margaret Cho has been spewing, etc. Most of the time, even when you admit that what you said/did/wrote was fucked up, it seems insincere. As if dissenters should be humored and shushed, so that everybody can go back to universalizing the experience of some trans people at the expense of others.

I’m not saying that cisgender trans men are all innocent victims; cisgenderism is a prevalent and serious problem among binary-identified folks (cis and trans). But there’s a difference between cisgenderism and people being pissed that you consider respecting their identities less important than drawing the lines of community where you want them, no matter who it hurts.

Since I’ve got your attention, we also need to talk a bit about the way some of y’all have been treating the complexity of genderqueer identities. Since it’s still so fresh in everybody’s minds, let’s take the “Top Hot Butches” list, for example. Some genderqueer people have butch or masculine identities. But many genderqueer people—even FAAB genderqueer people (me, for example)—wouldn’t identify their genders as “masculine” at all.

I highly doubt that the author of the list took the time to check to make sure that the genderqueer-identified folks on they included actually identified as butch/masculine. What seems to have happened is that they looked at the confetti of identities that make up genderqueerness, and decided, “Okay, so I know that some of y’all identify outside the binary and all that, but in reality you’re presenting as masculine (or male, which is really just hyper-extended masculinity), so we’ll just say that you present in a way that rejects compulsory femininity, and display some sort of intentional masculinity. For short, we’ll call that butch.

Maybe it goes without saying that, when y’all say “genderqueer”, it’s usually pretty safe to assume that you mean FAAB genderqueers. You mean those genderqueers you pretend to humor, but quietly consider women/female (despite the fact that many explicitly reject those labels). I’ll start believing that y’all respect my genderqueer identity once you start respecting (or even acknowledging) the genderqueer identities of MAAB genderqueer people.

This shit? It’s Not Okay. What you’re doing here—it’s Not Okay. And you’re doing it over, and over, and over again. And it’s exactly why I find so much of gender and queer theory to be a bunch of appropriative bullshit. My identities, my experiences, and my life is not an illustration in some cissexual exploration of “radical” gender and sex. Y’all need to work your transmisogynistic, biological-deterministic shit out, and then we can talk about the social and political implications of my transition. Maybe.

With hope, but no love,

Caleb

*I use “cisgender” in a way that many readers may not be familiar with.  I don’t find “cisgender” to be the corrollary to “transgender”.  While “transgender” is sometimes an identity word, it’s usually more of an umbrella term for gender and sexual minorities.  I think “cisgender” makes more sense as a corrollary to “genderqueer” (or gender-variant, or gender-nonconforming, etc.)—as a way to describe binary-identified or gender-normative people (both cissexual and transsexual).

I reject the assumption that all trans people challenge the gender binary, or bend gender, etc.  Some of us do, and some of us just see ourselves as men and women with a sexual history that really isn’t your business.  And I think that it’s an important way to illustrate that the genders of trans people have as much nuance as the genders of cis people.  We should all find ways to respect each trans person’s right to define how their gender relates to their sex.