(this piece is
written from my experience as a white, middle-class trans* person in
Northampton, MA. I can only speak for my experience—which is an incredibly
privileged one. For the most part, I am physically safe, financially safe, and
am not subject to the violence of rampant racism, transphobia specific to
trans-feminine folks, classism, or able-ism, on top of the transphobia that I
will write about below. Even though I am beginning to understand how much opposition
I am going to face in my life as an openly trans person, I directly benefit
from my whiteness and middle-class status each and every day.)
Here’s what I have lost so far for being trans. The caving
in of three mentor figure relationships in a 6-month period—all following this
basic pattern:
--Important
and trusted role model
--Worked with and alongside for
significant period of time
--I earn this person’s respect and
appreciation; we have an easy, casual relationship
--Sudden and inexplicable distance
occurs
--Intense and inappropriate verbal
confrontations from two former mentors, confusing distance from the third;
explanation for blow-outs and distance do not line up with reality; all blame for
difficulties in relationships placed squarely on me
--No follow-up afterwards; all my
attempts at conversation, follow-up, processing, slam against an invisible wall
--I am left utterly confused and
heartbroken
--I give up because I have no cards
left to play, and former mentor is giving no room for repairing our
relationship; seems to just want me to get out of their line of vision as soon
as possible; virtually no further contact
--Moves from a trusted role model
relationship to one of mutually trying to avoid all interactions, despite all
my unrequited effort
As these important mentor relationships in my life have collapsed,
one after another, I have been left grasping in the dark for answers, wondering
what I have been doing wrong. It had to have been me, you see, because this
pattern and these interactions were so
similar and the shocked, helpless, and confused feeling that I had in each was
something that I had never felt
before.
Never before have I been dropped so quickly and cleanly, and
without warning, as I have been dropped by these people (a mark of the
privilege with which I have lived my life)—all within a 6-month period (I have
been out as trans for about 8 months). I have had confrontations for sure; I have absolutely messed up in
relationships in ways that have caused distance between me and a person I was
close to—countless times; but I know
what that feels like. I feel like shit and I feel guilty, and I know what I did
(or at least, after some soul searching and some therapy sessions, I can figure
it out). I have a conversation with them that is hard to have, and we get somewhere, we move on (not always
forward, but we move).
These drops did not feel like this. These were quick,
without warning, with seemingly no provocation that I can figure out. In each,
things felt a little “off,” but nothing insurmountable, and then all of a
sudden, it is as if a plexi-glass shield has been thrown up in between us,
triggered by I don’t know what. Now, I am no longer funny, I am no longer
thoughtful, I am no longer a hard worker. They are “worried about me,” they
look at me with expressions that do not see me, they are completely unaffected
by anything that I say; they are completely unreachable. Some are angry. Shut
down. One thing has been made clear to me by their actions and inactions: these
folks would like me to get out of their line of sight as soon as possible.
Thankfully, before these interactions became totally
internalized into my sense of self and self worth, I brought them up with my
gender therapist (a note on how crazy lucky and privileged I am to have a therapist that specializes in
gender, sex, sexuality, and trans* stuff. Maybe 1% of all gender variant and
trans folks have that?? If that??). I
unloaded how rough this year has been in terms of (especially) professional
relationships and mentor figures—she shook her head sadly and said:
“I wish I could say that this was something isolated to this
place and this experience, isolated to you. But the fact is, that I have heard
this same story from countless trans* folks.”
In a seemingly out of the blue way, folks drop out of many
trans folks’ lives. The attitude being, “You are taking up too much space in a
way that makes me very uncomfortable and is destabilizing my sense of order. I
do not have the words to understand why
you make me so uncomfortable, so I will put all these feelings generated by
your destabilizing presence onto whatever problem you might be bringing to me.”
(For me, this was little things, little
things—like being grumpy in the morning several mornings in a row; not helping
to pick up items that spilled off a shelf because I was occupied with another
task; filling out a feedback form honestly and constructively. Seriously. These
are the events that I can locate as the “instigators”).
At first, when my therapist suggested that these
interactions might have something to do with transphobia, I wasn’t totally on
board—everything that happened was so
subtle that I really couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t like folks
were running around calling me a faggot or tranny. It was just the way people
look at me, and talk to me, and what
they talk to me about, now that I am out as trans.
For example, I have talked with the administration at my
school several times about the struggles I have had as a trans graduate
student. Folks have all agreed to meet with me, have listened to what I have
brought to meetings—all good stuff! But I leave completely unsatisfied and
hollow. It isn’t until later that I realize how messed up these meetings have
been. Essentially, the response has been, “We are so sorry, what can we do??”
(very little action, very little talk, just sad eyes and literal asks for
forgiveness).
Another example of the subtleties of these transphobic
micro-aggressions: At one point, an administrator pulled me into their office
during my lesson planning time to read to me the email they were going to send
to the staff about an upcoming event on trans* issues (the email, of course,
already written and ready to press send—so clearly actual collaboration was not
desired and the only answer there was space for was “sounds good!”). At first,
my response was, I mean, bad timing, and that made me feel like shit, but I
guess it was nice for them to check in? And then I thought about a similar
situation in a racialized context—if that same administrator had pulled one of
the only Black staff members into their office while they were on their way to lesson
plan to read at them an email for MLK day. Of course, these kinds of
micro-aggressions happen ALL THE TIME for folks of color, are so messed up, and
are a direct product of our white supremacist patriarchal system.
Trans* folks are told in so many ways to take up as little space as possible with their
identities, with their “otherness,” with their variance. My reality—my life in
this trans* body of mine—it’s too much for a lot of people to handle. I don’t
even have to open my mouth—just my body and my voice undermines and
destabilizes the gendered structures in ways that are too much. People implode
(or explode) and really just want me to go away.
And if I hadn’t had this conversation with my therapist, I
would never have been able to decode
what has been happening in my life and in these relationships. Maybe twenty
years from now, but not before it was internalized in me that there is
something about me that is not work-with-able, love-able, respect-able. And
almost no one who needs this trans-specific care that I have gotten has access
to it!!!!! I suppose that is why I am taking the space writing this piece as
the trans* person that I am slowly understanding myself to be:
(1) for self-validation of this tip
of the iceberg of the losses that I will experience in my life as an out trans*
person—and (2) for those trans* allies out there (and of course allies to folks
of color, trans folks of color, disabled folks, poor folks,
incarcerated/formerly incarcerated folks, undocumented folks, the list goes on
and on, but I can only speak personally from a white trans-masculine
perspective), to SUPPORT YOUR TRANS* FRIENDS/LOVED ONES!!!! Encourage them to
talk to you about subtly weird shit that is going on in their lives, tell them
that they are not alone in this and that it is happening to other people, and
most importantly, remind them over and over again—you are validated, you are
loveable, I see you, I love you, I
laugh with you, I value you, I will not drop away.
Three mentors in 6 months. That is what I have lost so far
because I am trans.
p.s. please feel free to write to me, share this piece with
folks that you think will be interested, etc etc etc.
xoxoxoxoxo
Lee.
