Androgyne

Tuesday, 12:30 am - Chicago's North Loop.

Three German college boys walk behind me on a narrow sidewalk with sophomoric swaggers. One darts forward to peek under my cap, past my deep blue hood. Darts back, laughs. I hear the chatter of a language I know just well enough to pick out bits here and there. A word something like "androgyne" pops out and slaps me like a sticky wet ball of tissue. I tense a little but don't walk any faster; a tiny part of me is grinning in anticipation, waiting for a shove, wanting to get into it, to make it real, to know I'm alive and I'm me and to prove to the assholes they don't control me. More chatter behind me and one eggs his buddy on, in English this time.

"Go for it."

A pause, and I'm relieved and let down all and once that he doesn't touch me, doesn't make it more personal, but he calls out loud enough I know it's meant for me.

"Hey, man, can you feel your balls? CAN YOU FEEL YOUR BALLS?"

A dozen beginnings to clever comebacks pop into my head as I roll my eyes, but witty banter has never been my forte. I raise my right hand instead, never breaking stride, and flip the guy and his buddies and any more sophomoric swaggering cocks who might be nearby a deep, silent, heartfelt Fuck You. He calls again.

"Oh, a tough guy, huh?"

A smile creeps its way unbidden to my face as I descend the steps to the Red Line.

Yeah. Tough guy.

And then I got on the subway and wrote that down.

moving about in the world of boystown

A month and a half after Beginnings I made a 'coming out' post to my livejournal. In its entirety, here 'tis.

Those who follow my twitter page will have already heard this, but I thought I'd make a semi-public post to chronicle my important life changes. The way to phrase my "coming out" to various groups of people is something that has occupied much of my mental landscape over the past few weeks, so I think I'll try out a few of the phrases I've been toying with.

I am undergoing gender reassignment.

I have decided to transition.

How would you feel about me if I were me, but a guy?

It's a boy!

Am I going to cut my hair? No, not at the present. What kind of a man has hair that long? THIS kind. It's Ren Faire hair, hair down to who-knows-where, hair like Samson's, don't you dare chop it off.

Note: This conviction only lasted another month or so, when I realized that shorter hair would help a lot in my initial transition phase.

Hi, my name is Gabriel. No, not like Sylar.

In practical terms, I'm currently negotiating the prospects of telling my employers, getting a court order to change my name, figuring out how to change the gender marker on my ID, calling up a doctor who may or may not choose to prescribe the great and revered T so my body can begin to reflect myself, and working out how to tell the extended family and so on who may have a harder time than my queer/geek friends to accept this revelation of myself as transgendered. And I'm contemplating the complicated life journey of becoming a man without having the traditional history of boyhood, but rather a rich and complex history of girlhood and all I have to say about that is...

Coming out as queer was so much less COMPLICATED.

Beginnings

On the 25th of January 2009, at approximately 10:30pm, I made a decision. Or maybe more accurately, I realized that a decision had already been made somewhere in my subconscious mind.

I decided I would live the rest of my life as a man.

I commemorated this decision with a text message to five of my friends:

What would you do/think/feel if I decided to live as a boy?

That evening, I had brief back-and-forth discussions with these friends about what I meant by that and what my name would be, and so on. Over the next few weeks I joined various trans groups discovered through the Howard Brown Health Center and started the process of planning my transition. I came out to my friends, my family, and my jobs. I was invited to go live with my friends in New York while I began this stage of my life journey.

And so it began.

on passing, or Why I Wear A Necktie

NOTE: Originally posted in 2007.


I've been thinking lately about passing, and first impressions, and my relationship thereto, and so on. Like you do.

I wore a dress today. It's a fun sort of dress: very long, brightly colored, broomstick-skirt style and thus nice and swooshy. I wear it once every few months, and if I shut off the part of my brain that is all genderqueer-masculine-expression-all-the-time it's actually really pleasing to wear. The aforementioned part of my brain doesn't stay shut off for long, though, so my thinky thoughts meandered around to something of a conclusion:

Wearing male clothing feels extremely natural to me at this point. I've been doing it (almost exclusively) for quite a few years now; I always shop on the Men's side of the store on the rare occasions I buy new clothes, and the few items of female clothing I own are old, secondhand, and rarely see the outside of my closet. I don't think much about wearing my men's cargo pants and button-down shirts (though I do still get a little thrill of excitement at putting on a necktie, but that's a whole tangent on phallic symbolism that I don't want to get into just now). For the most part my dressing habits are not foremost in my thoughts, and I no longer feel like I'm anywhere in the vicinity of crossdressing when I pick out my (male) clothes for the day.

When I wear a dress, I get a backwards sort of transvestite thrill. Like what I normally do is present my basic Genderqueerness, which is an important part of Who I Am. This is not quite the same as presenting Maleness; at present I'm too girly in my features to expect to be read as Guy, though I do smile whenever I get a gender-double-take. But when I wear a dress or especially girly clothing, it's almost like I'm suppressing my Queer and 'passing' as normal, 'dressing up' as something I'm not, doing the exciting costume thing.

Sidebar -

I don't remember where I was reading this, but to paraphrase an idea: trans- and gay- persons both use the term 'passing' to describe how they move in the world, but they mean essentially opposite things by it: To the transman or -woman, 'passing' is asking the world "please see me as the Other I wish to embody even though it's not how you expect or want to see me"; to the gay 'passing' is asking the world "please see me as a normal man/woman and ignore that which makes me different because it's not your business to know". (Perhaps it's this disconnect that's at the heart of the political clashes between trans- and gay-cultures: for gays, passing is hiding and lying and bad; for transpersons, passing is fundamental to the brand of queerness, or at least it might be. Again, a tangent for another time.) I'd love to hear thoughts on this, actually, because I'm not sure how I feel about the distinction.

But to go with that idea, when I wear a dress I'm 'passing' in the gay sense of "nope, nothing different or queer about this girl", which isn't something I can maintain for long because it feels like lying. When I wear a button-down and a tie, I'm maybe halfway to 'passing' in the trans-sense of "oh look, it's a boy." And that feels honest, because it displays my genderqueerness to those that are willing to see it. I do recognize (and ponder, and poke at) that as a female-born-genderqueer nudging the boundaries of masculinity I have a MUCH easier time of it in my daily life than does a male-born-genderqueer nudging the boundaries of femininity; that's unfortunately how the gender divide works these days.

(For more on that tangent-for-another-time please (please!) read Julia Serano's Whipping girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity. ::fanbois her::)

The part of me that Envisions A Different World doesn't want to have to worry about wearing male clothing all the time, because pretty dresses make me feel pretty, and I'd like to have a mixture of presentations. But as long as I know that when most people meet me they will think "heteronormative female person" rather than "gender ambiguous omnisexual human" unless I do something about it by wearing a necktie, I'll go on wearing a necktie.

Because I'm not a liar.

I learned that much from my dad.

I am me without clothing

NOTE: Another old post, exploring my genderqueer sexual nature. This one is rather rambly.

I started out these posts with a separation of gender from sexuality, a distinction that isn't especially natural in that it's one that I've picked up from reading such postmodern gender theorists as Judith Butler. It's a distinction that allows for a more personal/individual sort of Identity than one that relies on the political categories of Lesbian/Gay which rely on who I desire rather than who I am. I still like the idea of Gender Ambiguity for myself, of being someone technically female who invades the space of masculinity when it means more to who I am than the space of femininity.

Of course this round of gender identity thoughts is coming at a time when, for the first time in a while, I have someone - and for the first time ever, a female someone - against whom I am defining that gender identity of mine. I said to her a few weeks ago that being with her feels more het than any relationship I've been in - like I was always trying to make my encounters with men feel like gay sex so I didn't lose my sense of internal boy energy - but being with someone with such a Strong Female energy is allowing me to explore the boy in me even while acknowledging that I'm also, fundamentally, a girl.

::takes a moment::

Finding myself in such a situation I'm also finding that Gender and Sexuality are meshing together again. The part of my brain that shies away from emotion as an unhelpful, irrational thing is telling me to pull back and try to find my gender position once again. Therefore, a bullet point list.

Truth:

* Trappings of gender expression ("this is what it is to be Male or Female," according to current social trends) are both the way in to what's Other and Desired, and also the way Out to reflect the new inner position.

* I pick and choose the pieces of masculine gender expression that fit me, and doing so allows me to break down the whole construction of Male or Female and really question what is necessary for either.

* I hide my body in baggy male-ish clothing. I am not ashamed of my body - I think it's a pretty damn hot one, actually - but I'm selective about who gets to see it. It's a filter that shields me from being perceived as something I'm not - typically female - and lets me be perceived as somewhat male, or at least to place my gender position in a place where people have to think about it. I got 'sirred' at work yesterday. This made me grin.

* Walking like a man but talking like a woman (because I don't have as much control over my voice as over my appearance) may open me to curiosity or ridicule or both at once. Some observers will accept the fluidity and others will pin me down in their own minds, which is their pergative. Prerogative. *g* All I can do is try to live comfortably within the ambiguity and be prepared for the questions Why.

* Butch is one thing; Boy is another. The boy in me isn't especially competitive, doesn't find Pacho Mosturing a natural thing, but he does want to protect his emotions from outside scrutiny and appear impenetrable and capable of protecting others. Also he likes I like muscle cars and classic rock, for which I largely blame the Winchesters, and that's another story. *g* But even those aspects of Male aren't there because I want to appear Male, they're there because that's who I am. The Male in me that I desire is... very hard to pin down when one of my goals in life is to legitimize the Soft Sensitive Caring Male in society.

* There is a dual temptation when thinking about these gender things:

1. Personalize IT too much: become (myself) the stereotype of Butch at the expense of challenging what Masculinity means to the world.

2. Generalize ME too much: dismiss the trappings of gender distinction as unnecessary because I happen to be comfortable within the fluidity that's somewhere in the middle without considering why the differences exist in the first place.

--- As with most things in this world, the truth (the best way) lies somewhere in between those two extremes.

On identity and labels

NOTE: This was originally posted in 2007. Identity: genderqueer.

I was thinking today about identity, and labels, and the difference between the two. I'm always searching for the words with which to describe my personhood, because words are the way we communicate to the world who we are and how we wish them to deal with us. However, on some level I accept that I don't have any real control over how people are going to see me, because when I step into someone else's space they're going to (and have every right to) bring all of their own history to their understanding of me. I can give certain clues to my chosen androgyny by my dress, appearance, mannerisms, etc., but those are merely clues. I want the people I interact with to be free to identify me in their own way. My desire to be taken as a person first and a woman second is not a terribly realistic goal in most situations, it's just something I can quietly maintain as my personal identity and hope people can catch onto.

There's another part to this, too. I say I don't want to be identified as Woman where it's not contextually relevant; I'm learning that there may be certain broader situations where it IS relevant: like, for example, fandom conventions. A slash convention like Escapade is almost exclusively a woman's space; the three or four men who go to it are remarked upon for their not-womanness, or at least regarded with some startlement, I've found. In such a space, it's easier for me to fit in if I let myself be regarded as one of the girls. Not that it's even discussed in any overt way, but I feel that the assumption is there. Hmmm.

Funny story: At work (and elsewhere) I often wear a brown bandana with a pirate symbol on it (designed by Nigel, an artist I met at Origins a few years back.) This sometimes leads people, usually dads accompanied by little boys, to ask "Hey, are you a pirate?" The other day, a Slightly Crazy Customer shouted this very question across half the store at me; startled, I said something like "Uh, yeah, I guess so!" He then came closer, stared at me, and exclaimed "You're a woman!" and then wandered away muttering to himself.

I don't know what that has to do with anything. *shrug*

The First

NOTE: This is what might be considered my first real meaty post in Eloquent Protest, also made in 2007. My identity at the time could probably be described as genderqueer; although I know some people in a very similar place would call themselves 'transgender' I didn't claim that term until much more recently. The following is also slightly edited to remove lj-specific thingies.

Well, since that post I made the other night where I said I liked talking about gender and queerness and I want to do it more, I've been thinking long and hard about what I want to say in my first post on the gender filter. Then I realized that I should just break the ice that isn't really ice and just make the post happen so I stop over-analyzing it. So here are, collected, a few thoughts about me, and things I am and am not.

[Note]I may in these posts tend to ramble on and make references to things y'all don't have the background knowledge about my inside jokes and geekish friends to get. PLEASE feel free to comment and say whuh? and I will try to clarify.[/Note]

1. I'm not angry about my gender role. I don't feel oppressed by my lack of that elusive Male Privilege that feminist writers are always pointing too; I'm not filled with a hidden rage I need to scream to the sky. When I walk into a women's bathroom and somebody does a double-take, or when the security guy at the airport gets halfway through a pat-down and then turns away with a red face to call over a female security guard to do a gender-appropriate pat-down, it brings me great glee and, occasionally, fits of evil laughter. I like being different. It's part of my charm. *g*

2. I may express my gender in a somewhat nonstandard way by (sometimes) cutting my hair short and (almost always) wearing clothing designed for men; but then I live in the world of post-feminist urban America, and sometimes I find myself surrounded by people even more radical/liberal than I am. That's my space.

3. Though I feel some affinity with the transgendered community I'm not really part of it. I actually did go through a period where I contemplated transgendering myself - changing my name, 'passing' as male and all that good stuff; this lasted for a few months and never went further than some fairly extensive daydreaming. On that part of my inner journey (woo inner journeys), I felt a surge of affection for the masculine within me, when I wanted to meet my inner boy and see what he had to say. More recently I've come to believe that the more eloquent protest against certain gender boundaries with which I disagree is to be visibly a Woman who doesn't fit certain expectations so that I may further the ongoing expansion of what Woman means. (The specifics of these I'll get into at a later time. Promise.)

4. I haven't forgotten the aforementioned inner boy, and I still talk to him sometimes. I think I'll call him Daniel. Hiya, Daniel. (Hello.) He's adorable and emo and quirky, kind of like wee!Sammy watching Thundercats or that Ethan Hawke character from Dead Poet's Society.

5. Once, a few years ago, my S.O. of the time bought me a pretty good quality softpack; I wore it to Lupercalia that year. All my friends grinned at the bulge in my pants and squeezed my crotch. This filled me with a performer's glee at achieving a pleasant audience reaction. I haven't worn it since; now I keep it in a jar labeled "The Last Guy Who Fucked With Me". This makes me smile in an ev0l way.

6. I am a female: with a cunt that I keep trimmed but not shaved, and a pair of breasts that make up about a half a handful each; but first and foremost I am a human being. Welcome to my brain, y'all.