To the point, at least somewhat?
Transmissions 11
What are you, really?
This time around, my column may have a little more vitriol than normal. You see, I recently made a mistake: I turned on a television talk show.
The topic in question had to do with transgendered people, of course. Transgender-themed episodes are a mainstay of talk shows. This one, however, intrigued me, as it seemed to say more to me about the audience of the show — and people in general — than about those paraded in front of the cameras.
The show’s host would introduce a transman, then encourage the audience to shout out their guess on whether that person was “really” a man or a woman. By show’s end, all was revealed, and we knew just who was assigned male at birth, and who was trying to pull a fast one on the eagle-eyed audience members.
I wonder what it would be like to line up all the talk show hosts, and invite a studio audience to decide which ones were born with a heart, and which ones have always been in it simply for the ratings and advertiser dollars. But talk shows are far too easy to pick on.
This need for the audience to point out who was the real man — and who was wearing a disguise — was what struck me. I was reminded of the few times I’ve heard strangers shout out their best guess as to what I am. It is as if they, having figured that there was something about me that sets me apart from others of my gender, felt some primal need to point it out to everyone within earshot.
It points to a simple fact. A truism that surprises by its simplicity, and shocks by the implications. Transgendered people, in our society, are viewed as people so dishonest, that we are setting out to deceive any time we express a preferred gender.
This fact is visible everywhere. News stories always strive to tell just what name and gender a transperson was given at birth, and often wouldn’t even make the paper if there wasn’t a transgendered person involved. Whether it’s living in an all-women’s dorm a la Bosom Buddies, or getting away with murder, television and movies have shown us images of people crossdressing in order to accomplish their insidious goals. Advertisements for tequila, razor blades, and computer virus software have marketed themselves on pointing out what that beautiful woman or blushing bride really is.
The concept that transgendered people are simply out to hoodwink others has been at the heart of most recent legal issues that have been faced by transgendered people, from Christie Lee Littleton, whose legally changed birth certificate was tossed out because the Texas courts knew she was “really a man,” to an Ohio transsexual who was disallowed a name change last month in Ohio, because — to quote Judge Randy Rodgers — “allowing the applicant to change his [sic] name to that of a woman would be confusing and misleading to others.”
I guess that Judge Rodgers assumes that it won’t be “confusing and misleading” when people interact with a person who is presenting as a woman but has a male name that they cannot get rid of.
And that is where the question of who we are — that is, who we are really — gets a little complicated. Because I don’t believe that most transgendered people are trying to deceive anyone about just what we are. We’re certainly not trying to get away with anything: what’s to get away with? Instead, we are trying to show you the truth that we carry in our hearts.
That’s what I am doing. I am showing you exactly who I am, displaying a truth that goes much deeper than my flesh.
The only time I have truly felt I was setting out to deceive anyone was while trying to hide my feelings about being transgendered. Not that I didn’t learn to do a fine job of concealing my feelings. I would even say that I became quite expert at applying a false persona as a mild mannered male. I had it all down: I was a master at the swagger, and an old hand at being the “strong silent type.”
Only once was I spotted as something other than the perfect specimen of manhood I so desperately tried to portray, and that was back in high school when a female friend of mine, noting my dark glasses and bushy facial hair, said that it all made me look as if I was trying to hide something. It took me about 15 years, but I recently found her e-mail address on the Web and let her know that yes, she was completely right.
I gave up trying to deceive. It simply took too much energy to try and keep up such an elaborate charade, even with biology and history as willing co-conspirators. But yet, when I show who I really am, I end up with the equivalent of that talk show audience, trying to puzzle out what they think I really am.
How can one strive for honesty when their only options are to lie about what is in their heart, or be called a liar for showing it? How can we get to a place where society can value the gender I present over a gender I was assigned three decades ago?
Maybe it starts with this column, and I can hope that you’ll walk away from reading it with a little better understanding of what a transperson is doing when we lay bare our visions of ourselves for the world to see. You’ll see that it is honesty we are showing, not deception.
A truth beyond biology. Really.
"It’s not given to anyone to have no regrets; only to decide, through the choices we make, which regrets we’ll have,"
David Weber – In Fury Born
I forgot to attribute it to: