Busted

I really do not want to write this post. I do not want to be this honest with you, dear reader. It pains me to do so, because I have to admit my own failure, and I do not want to. But if I cannot own my failures, how can I challenge you to do so?

While conversing with a cisgender friend yesterday we got talking about a mutual transgender friend whom I was going to see that evening. In referring to this transgender friend, I misgendered her.

Yes, you read that correctly. I, who had suffered the pain of being misgendered just two days earlier, committed the same mistake myself.

I immediately caught my error and corrected it to my cisgender friend (who had also caught my error and was aware of my situation earlier in the week.) I couldn’t ignore or avoid it, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I KNOW better. I KNOW the pain of being misgendered. I KNOW how it leaves you feeling. How could I, of all people, do the same to another person?

Because I’m human dear friends. And I have been socially conditioned just as the rest of you. My neural pathways regarding gender identity and gender expression were formed in an environment that does not recognize gender diversity. At times my brain chooses to travel those well-worn pathways rather than the new ones I’ve worked hard to form, and I screw up. It takes conscious effort to choose to affirm someone for who they are, and I am not exempt from that.

If you’re inclined to think that this excuses you from misgendering people, that would be a false conclusion. It should, in fact, help you realize how much effort must be put into consciously changing our thinking and our speech. If it doesn’t come naturally to me, who knows personally how much it hurts to be misgendered, it probably won’t come more naturally to you. This may not be true for some in the younger generations who have understood gender differently from the outset, but it certainly is true for most people thirty and older.

Perhaps you think this is a whole lot of fuss over simple pronouns. Why does it matter really?

It matters because recognizing someone for who they are, not who you think they should be, affirms their humanity. It affirms their worth and their dignity. It’s actually quite fundamental, really. By using someone’s correct name and referring to them with the pronouns they use, you are recognizing their inherent identity. If you are white and cisgender, this may be difficult to understand because you are probably, for the most part, used to being treated with a certain degree of respect (varying somewhat based on class and other distinctions, which are real issues as well). When you come from a minority group, you’re much more conscious of the lack of respect those in the majority give you. How we use language speaks volumes about how we perceive other people and the world in which we live.

Some may want to get into linguistic arguments, such as over the appropriateness of the pronoun forms of “they” to refer to the singular. As a linguist by training, without going to an extensive discussion of the history and usage of “they/them/their,” I would say simply, we can change the way we understand and use language. Language changes all the time. You can resist it because you don’t want to acknowledge the change, but you can’t say the change is “wrong.” In this case a relatively simple change to standard usage can affirm the core identity of an individual. I think that’s a small sacrifice to make.

When I was still living the role of a white, cisgender male, I arrogantly asserted that the pronouns “he/him/his” are the only proper ones to use when referring to a person of non-specified gender. I didn’t think about how doing so effectively erased the large portion of humanity (well, at least that portion which speaks English) who identify as female, as well as those who identify as something other than male or female. Wow, I was so ignorant at that time. I couldn’t see that the privilege I inherited as someone whom society perceived as male skewed my entire perspective. Language profoundly affects how we perceive others and we must consciously think about how we use our words.

I’d like to think that I’ll never misgender another person again. Unfortunately, I probably will. I’m still retraining my own thinking. As I do so, I need to acknowledge and own my errors, apologizing and not hiding behind my embarrassment. I hope you will as well. Together we can use our words to affirm and empower others. 

Wounded

Someone misgendered me today. It caught me totally off guard, as this person has only ever known Andrea. Worse still, they did it during a meeting. I don’t think it was intentional, but it left me feeling extremely awkward and uncomfortable. They corrected themselves, but didn’t make any effort afterwards to apologize for the mistake. I want to let it go, but several hours later it still troubles me. I cannot adequately describe for you how it leaves me feeling, unless you have experienced something similar yourself. It’s like having someone say to you that they really don’t see you as you are, but as they want to see you. You feel like you don’t really exist.

UPDATE - 3/15/2017
I spoke with the individual today, and they acknowledged their error in misgendering me  and their further failure to offer an apology. They recognized that I should not have to come asking for one. I hesitated to raise the issue, as I did not want to come across as overly sensitive, but some good allies reminded me that I need to speak up for myself. Thank you! I hope this will prove to be an isolated incident. If not, I'll deal with it accordingly when necessary. The wound is still there, but the rawness has been reduced. Speaking to and about people correctly and appropriate is such a small but significant aspect of affirming their value.

I do want the world to see me

Several weeks ago I was driving across town with another transgender woman when the song “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls came on the radio. My companion shared that she loved the song, particularly because of the line:

“I don’t want the world to see me, cuz I don’t think that they’d understand.”

For her, this captured her experience as a transgender woman. She wanted to remain hidden, invisible, unnoticed, because she didn’t believe she could find acceptance and understanding. Unfortunately, I think this is the reality for too many in the transgender community. We live our lives in the shadows, fearing that being noticed will only make things worse for us. Society marginalizes us, and sometimes we participate in our own marginalization by seeking to remain hidden. It’s understandable, because no one wants to draw attention to themselves if they expect it to bring abuse, discrimination and rejection.

I cannot tell this woman, or any other transgender person, that they must come out into the light. That’s a personal decision that each of us has to make. Having made that decision for myself though, I want to use my position to advocate for myself and others in our community who are unable or not ready to speak up for themselves. I prefer the line that follows shortly after the one previously cited:

“I just want you to know who I am.”

I’ve found my voice. As you are aware if you know me or have followed this blog, I’m no longer hidden and do not want to be hidden. It’s not that I want or need to be the center of attention either. But I want my presence in the world to foster understanding, awareness and acceptance of transgender people. We are not the monsters that some, particularly opportunistic politicians paint us to be. We’re real people. We ask only for the same rights to participate in society as everyone has (or should have, since we recognize that too many groups are unable to live full and free lives in our culture).

I want to see a day when no transgender person feels she must say “I don’t want the world to see me, cuz I don’t think that they’d understand.” We’ve a long way to go, but I absolutely believe that this day will come.

The Happening

The following is not my story, but a friend graciously allowed me to share it with you.

The Happening

I went to a wedding tonight. I went to a wedding that no one is supposed to know about. The couple - you might know them, that they are madly in love - you can know that, that they intended to be wed – you can know that too, but that it happened tonight, that really is a private matter.

It was In the middle of the week, a lousy one no less, stressful, with car repairs, bills that need paying, full of the details that bear down on a couple when money is tight and the world is unstable.

It happened on a Wednesday, after work, for both of them, knee deep in the banalities of everyday life, no time off was taken, no hair appointments were made, no parents were present, no after-party was thrown, no dresses were worn and no one was invited. It was something - of course it was something, but for all intents and purposes we'd like to call it a ‘non-event’. It was just a tiny bit bigger than something that didn’t happen at all, because it happened, of course it happened and deny it, we won't, should we be asked about it, but we’d really rather not be.

It's not the kind of wedding you would have had, or I would have had and it's not the kind of wedding they would have had either. It was certainly not the meaningful event they had been planning. It had been a year since they had selected the date and begun planning almost six months ago. Things were going to be right then, on November 10th 2017. One was going to be finished with school after six years, the other, more financially stable and solid in a newly promoted position; they would be free of their lease and moved to a better home. That, they felt, was the time for them to marry.

Things changed. They suddenly felt subject to the unexpected, pressured, even forced into their own wedding. So they had it tonight, on a Wednesday of all things, in February, after work, rushed and quiet, as insignificant and forgettable as possible, because it was robbing them of something, this event, a manifest to their difference and to the fear they‘d been feeling, that they had tried so much not to admit to themselves. This day was the perilous result of facing their truths, admitting their injuries, a lack of safety and a profound defenselessness.

Why? Why now? Because their twin souls are both housed in female bodies. That is why. That is why they felt forced to admit that they may already be assigned to the other side of a dividing line that was drawn without their consent or approval, why they may already belong to a segregated group, apart from where you live and separate from where I live. As anomaly is defined, so is convention and you and I live there, coddled and cradled by the comforts that come with being of the mainstream, normal and regular… and we did absolutely nothing to earn it, did we? Did we?

They could not be sure - that is why. A campaign based on xenophobia, misogyny, racism, and homophobia was won and after only two weeks in the chair, the new authority has proven that campaign promises were far from empty and that nothing that was once sure can be sure any longer. They could not be sure that the freedoms available to them now would still be within reach come November 10th - their intended wedding day, the day of the wedding they wanted to have, the day of the wedding they deserved to have.

This is where we are now. Our friends are rushing into marriages because they don't know how much longer they will be free, and free is the word, to openly love the loves of their lives. Two months ago, this is not where we were. But this, and it’s time to own it, this is where we are now.

They struggled. They struggled so much, with the decision of whether to get married now, whether to allow fear and insecurity to be the driving force into their matrimony. All those that love them had circled the November date for months, and the reason that none of them got to be there tonight is that their love is too precious, too precious and too important to be poured onto this day, this wedding no one wanted to have and this special occasion no one asked for.

No, the November reception is still happening, just like it was meant to, on the day they had chosen, the day that is theirs, just like they had dreamed. This is the only day that deserves the precious love of their friends.

Today was an ordinary Wednesday, a day like any other. Everyone went to work and everyone will go to work tomorrow. Somewhere in the day, a marriage license was signed and a few champagne glasses clinked together, but it doesn't give bigotry, xenophobia, misogyny, and racism any power over us. It doesn’t. It won’t.

We are no different. We are here, we are in love, and while they may have some influence on the date we file some paper work, they have no influence on this love of ours. Never. None.