First, it would be easy to assimilate into the mainstream based on my whiteness, my perceived maleness, my mostly normatively-gendered appearance . . . but at what cost? Assimilating myself would mean denying my first 20 years of living as a “woman,” dyke or otherwise. It means denying formative experiences, old friends, my experiences of sexism as a woman, the parts of  dyke culture that have stuck with me through all of the physical changes. Making up lies about growing up as a boy or simply omitting a story that comes to mind only make me feel as though I'm digging a deeper well of shame and secrecy within myself.

Even the act of legally changing my sex on my driver's license presented me with a moral and political dilemma. When I recently moved from one state to another, I took advantage of an ambivalent and/or inattentive Bureau of Motor Vehicles clerk. While my previous driver's license bore a very blatant “F” next to “Sex,” my new license proudly reads “M.” Initially, I was very excited. Now, I can get a passport that shows my legal sex as male. I can switch over the sex marker on some of my old school records if I want. Surface level interactions involving my identification such as buying beer, going out to clubs, and dealing with airport security no longer involve outing myself as transgender as long as I'm passing as male. After the initial excitement wore off, I reconsidered what I had just done: am I thwarting the system by changing my legal sex the “wrong way,” redefining the idea of “man” in such a way that I can still possess female anatomy, resist surgically altering my body, and still legally be “male” in the eyes of the state? Or am I feeding into trans invisibility by seeking out a way to conceal my female past? These are difficult questions, to say the least, and I'm still not certain of the answers.

Even though I have physically changed toward the male end of the gender spectrum, I find that I am still in control of how much I pass as male or female to varying degrees. With biology working against me with my small stature and the tell-tale signs of my female past, a gender is often assigned to me by outsiders based on my body language, mannerisms, and intonation. When I follow the binary standards for male behavior, I am more likely to pass as a man, and usually a gay man at that. If I choose to ignore or disobey these rules by crossing my legs at the knees or gesturing too much, I still occasionally find myself designated to the “female” or the “too-androgynous-to-tell” box that makes people uncomfortable. While I felt pressured into fitting these behavior standards in order to pass at the beginning of transitioning, I am starting to resist that pressure and move back toward the middle ground of presentation.

I am finding a way of living comfortably with myself and my gender presentation without being forced to hide my female past in order to do so. Indeed, the only solution to becoming a whole person is to refuse to assimilate and to embrace the idea espoused in Sandy Stone's “Posttranssexual Manifesto.” I must go beyond just trying to pass as a desired gender. The only way that things are going to change for transgender people is for us to be vocal and visible about being transgender. By being vocal about our transgendered selves rather than trying to assimilate into the role of either “man” or “woman” (thus becoming “posttranssexual”), trans people open new realms of possibilities of physicalities and identities. Claiming our histories – including those pre-transitioning – allows us to reclaim power in our bodies and to make space within established identities for ourselves to exist.

Of course, it is impractical to ask someone to be “out” 100% of the time in all situations. When I meet a person for the first time, I don't assault them with an in-depth discussion about my gender identity and how that relates to my presentation. As someone who works with at-risk elementary, middle, and high school students, I don't take the time to explain my sexuality and gender to every student who needs help with math homework. However, if students ask questions about me, I would like to answer honestly. Also, if I am expressing my gender in what feels true to me and that happens to coincide with a traditional male appearance, why should that be a problem? The key for me is to be out as transgender in social situations, out to my friends and family, and to be vocal about my trans politics when I need to speak up. I want to feel comfortable discussing my past and not feel stifled into a role as ill-fitting as the female role was for me before I started transitioning. I want to be in control of physically altering my body, regardless of how I identify, regardless of whether or not my body fits into a strictly-defined category. I don't want to be forced into obscuring my past in order to function in the world; I want to be a whole person.

Attraction outside of the binary

Even though my outer appearance may be able to conform more or less to a binary gender category, my physical body has moved into territory where it cannot be neatly classified as either male or female. My politics and identity as a transgender person play out most clearly in the changing physicality of my body and the way that I navigate this in sexual relationships.

After years of testosterone injections, I have a medically-constructed body that is unintelligible to a society upheld by a strict gender binary. How am I supposed to feel attractive and empowered in my body and sexuality when mainstream and gay cultures leave no space for bodies outside of the male/female binary? How do I describe my relationships in terms of the labels “gay” and “straight” when I am not firmly in one of those two categories? Sexual orientation binaries are just as impossible for me to navigate as gender binaries. Even the label “bisexual” implies that there are only two sexes from which to choose, thus excluding bodies like mine from the realm of attraction... (continue reading)