Just kidding. I have some stuff to say, my loyal readers.
I'm sorry I haven't kept up with this blog, but do you people really want to know each week that everything is pretty much the same as it has been?
Truthfully, though, it hasn't been... exactly... the same.
I really should have written something in September, but I was thinking more about what is happening at this very moment, even back then, so it didn't even occur to my foggy little brain to let you know what had been happening earlier this Autumn.
So, I'll tell you about that before I get to this very moment.
In September, Natasha has facial feminization surgery. It wasn't Caitlyn Jenner type, total reconstruction. She had some minor adjustments done to her forehead, eyebrows, and upper lip. That surgery wasn't a big deal on my end. I knew she wasn't going to look very different to me (although her lips are fuller. That's weird to me, but people do that lip-filling stuff anyway). She's still healing from it, but you can only tell at the hairline.
What was a big deal was the surgery itself and the early recovery. The surgery was almost eight hours long, and she had to stay overnight, which was a good decision because she was immensely groggy. So, yeah. Major surgery. And, by the way, after a several-month battle with our insurance, all this was paid for (minus co-pays and deductibles, of course). As I sit here in the waiting room for Tasha's current surgery, I'm at least satisfied that she'd already met the annual out-of-pocket maximum with the first surgery, so this one is "free."
Did I say "waiting room"? Yes. It's the procedure she's doing now that got me thinking a lot. She's having vocal feminization surgery now. Two little sutures will change her voice from baritone to alto and will take away some of that reverberation guys have (you really have to know what you're listening for, but essentially it's why so many transfolk get "clocked" on the phone. This is the big surgery for me, even though it's technically minor, outpatient surgery. Tasha's voice is the last thing I have of Jonathan, and I've already heard the last of it. I'll never again hear that voice except on videos or recordings.
Nothing new because, well, he's gone.
I'd been preparing for this surgery since she first wanted to get a consultation about it, which was last spring. I didn't think insurance would really cover it. But they did, and here we are.
The kids have expressed sadness and concern over the last few months, too. I don't know if they talked to Tasha about it, but she's going to read about it here (she's one of my biggest fans!). Their father's voice would be going away. They felt the same as me.
I've said before that it would have been easier if Tasha had done something bad and I/the kids could have hated her and moved on in whatever capacity that might have been. But we still love her a ton and want her to be happy with herself. This surgery is the icing on the cake. This is the one that means the most to her (besides the GRS, of course). She will no longer be misgendered under any circumstances. So, we support her.
On the plus side, she can't speak for about a month. So yay!
The facial surgery meant a lot to Tasha in the fact that people at stores stopped taking second glances at her. The vocal surgery means she can talk on the phone in a normal voice and be called "ma'am." I get that.
So? What does this mean for us? Well, nothing really. Not yet. I don't really know, but I suspect we will return to our new normal again and move on. Heck, we're still planning to move to Vermont ASAP. We'll be looking for one house to be in together with the kids. But I think she knows I'm only mostly joking when I threaten her with separate bedrooms. Still, the nature of our relationship is stable and good. She's been in therapy for a long time now, working on how she communicates with the kids. But that has nothing to do with being trans. That has to do with her upbringing. So she would likely be in therapy for this stuff anyway. All of our "problems" are just regular, non-trans-related problems.
But every once in a while, my problems also include feeling separated. I don't feel "married." I haven't for a long time. That's another story. One that you've heard from me before. But it's like my writing. I love to write. I have so many stories to tell. But I spend so much time making ends meet financially and all the other stuff that goes with having a family that when I get to think about it, a bunch of time has passed. I feel crappy for not having written, especially when I see Instagram posts of other writers I know who are doing their things, networking, entering contests, winning some of them, blah blah blah that I'm not doing, and I feel crappy for a bit. And then I have to leave for work.
That's what happens when I get down about my personal life.
It's a good thing I'm going for my MA in Marriage and Family Therapy. I didn't tell you that, did I? Yep. I'm doing it for me. Not so I can diagnose and treat myself. So I can get out of teaching and start helping people in a much broader sense. THAT will make me happy. So see? I AM doing things to make me happy. Moving to Vermont (ASAP, DAMMIT!). Going for a new and more fitting career. A little extra happiness can go a long way to making other things feel, and therefore become, more manageable. Stay tuned, my friends.
I have to leave for work soon. Tasha won't be out for another hour or two. Our friend is coming to relieve me from waiting room duty and she'll bring Tasha home. I will post again within a few weeks to give you an update about Tasha's recovery and my feelings about that.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
These Recent Events
Hello, my amazing readers.
I don't have much to report personally, except to say that Natasha is scared. She's not exactly letting it run her life. Because she's already an introvert and doesn't feel that she has more than a couple of people in her life she feels are actually friends, the tragedy in Orlando and the near tragedy that could have happened here in L.A. this past weekend has compounded things and now she feels more "clockable" than ever.
Yeah, I've got some personal stuff going on. I got let go from my teaching job for no reason. I'm still struggling with my self image. My cornea transplant is acting up. Carbohydrates are now my worst enemies. But compared to the bigger picture, that's not so much.
I worry about my kids, now that they are growing up and now that they will be going to a school with other kids and adults and potential homicidal nutjobs. I worry about the stupidity that exists in our country on so many levels.
I just want you all to know that I'm sorry. I hate most people for this very reason. Most people are truly unintelligent, uninformed, and blind. Most people do what they're told. Most people never ask questions or ask for help. Most people blame others for their problems and take no responsibility for their actions. Most people take credit for other people's actions. Most people are selfish and short-sighted. Most people are lemmings. They're not all heterosexual. They're not all cis. Most are, though, by virtue of the fact that there are more of us than there are of you. I'm sorry that fear is more public. Fear has a place on social media. Fear has access to military-grade weapons.
I say fear and not hate because hate is one by-product of fear. Fear spawns hate, not the other way around. When we fear something, we either seek to understand it or we seek to eliminate it. Rational people who want to eliminate something they fear will just avoid that thing that frightens us. Stupid people will try to kill it off because everybody else must fear it, too. People who fear something hate it because they don't understand it because it is different from what they know and therefore they fear it. I'm sorry that you are feared. I'm sorry that anyone is feared because of a lack of understanding.
I am thinking about all of you out there, even if I don't know you. I can say that I, truly, hate so much of the world because I do fear it. I fear it because I do understand it. I am legitimately on the defensive, and I'm not really a target except possibly because I don't believe in a god. I am defensive because these same people are the ones who would vote for a fearful idiot with too much money and who would believe that humans have nothing to do with the slow genocide of Arctic life dependent on the ice and snow that is melting away. My children have to grow up in this world, and I fear for them. I am thinking of you in this world, and I hope that you are okay. I hope that you don't let fear keep you from living a good life. I may not know you, but if I can do something to make this world even a tiny bit better for you, I will. I will continue to go out into this world and be informed, do what is right, ask questions, take responsibility, and face my fear. I understand if you can't do that right now, but if you can't, I ask that you not let "them" win by working toward doing what they cannot.
I don't have much to report personally, except to say that Natasha is scared. She's not exactly letting it run her life. Because she's already an introvert and doesn't feel that she has more than a couple of people in her life she feels are actually friends, the tragedy in Orlando and the near tragedy that could have happened here in L.A. this past weekend has compounded things and now she feels more "clockable" than ever.
Yeah, I've got some personal stuff going on. I got let go from my teaching job for no reason. I'm still struggling with my self image. My cornea transplant is acting up. Carbohydrates are now my worst enemies. But compared to the bigger picture, that's not so much.
I worry about my kids, now that they are growing up and now that they will be going to a school with other kids and adults and potential homicidal nutjobs. I worry about the stupidity that exists in our country on so many levels.
I just want you all to know that I'm sorry. I hate most people for this very reason. Most people are truly unintelligent, uninformed, and blind. Most people do what they're told. Most people never ask questions or ask for help. Most people blame others for their problems and take no responsibility for their actions. Most people take credit for other people's actions. Most people are selfish and short-sighted. Most people are lemmings. They're not all heterosexual. They're not all cis. Most are, though, by virtue of the fact that there are more of us than there are of you. I'm sorry that fear is more public. Fear has a place on social media. Fear has access to military-grade weapons.
I say fear and not hate because hate is one by-product of fear. Fear spawns hate, not the other way around. When we fear something, we either seek to understand it or we seek to eliminate it. Rational people who want to eliminate something they fear will just avoid that thing that frightens us. Stupid people will try to kill it off because everybody else must fear it, too. People who fear something hate it because they don't understand it because it is different from what they know and therefore they fear it. I'm sorry that you are feared. I'm sorry that anyone is feared because of a lack of understanding.
I am thinking about all of you out there, even if I don't know you. I can say that I, truly, hate so much of the world because I do fear it. I fear it because I do understand it. I am legitimately on the defensive, and I'm not really a target except possibly because I don't believe in a god. I am defensive because these same people are the ones who would vote for a fearful idiot with too much money and who would believe that humans have nothing to do with the slow genocide of Arctic life dependent on the ice and snow that is melting away. My children have to grow up in this world, and I fear for them. I am thinking of you in this world, and I hope that you are okay. I hope that you don't let fear keep you from living a good life. I may not know you, but if I can do something to make this world even a tiny bit better for you, I will. I will continue to go out into this world and be informed, do what is right, ask questions, take responsibility, and face my fear. I understand if you can't do that right now, but if you can't, I ask that you not let "them" win by working toward doing what they cannot.
Friday, April 22, 2016
The Next Move
No news tends to be good news, which you dear readers should assume in my lack of posts over the past few months. As this blog is specifically about my journey through my spouse's transition, I can assure you that in the time since my last post, life had pretty much been status quo.
And so, a couple of weeks ago, the status quo changed a little.
It was common knowledge between Natasha and me that not only am I not a lesbian or even bi, but that because she is now a woman, I have not felt the same way about her on a physiological level. This alone has been heartbreaking to me, especially when I have so much as entertained a single thought of "what if" involving another man, I have felt immensely guilty.
Several people have suggested that we get divorced so I don't feel guilty. It would be easier to move on and be open to finding someone else. For several reasons, that doesn't work for me. The most important reason is that I'm not unhappy in my home life. I still love Natasha as much as I did before, even though the kind of love I have for her is different. No, we have no intimacy. What we do have is a friendship that is probably stronger than most people will ever get the privilege to experience.
I don't have someone waiting for me in the wings. I don't know, nor do I expect, to have that again. I'm in my mid-40s. I'm no model. I have kids. How appealing is that? So what do I do? Get a divorce, move into a one bedroom apartment (as would Natasha probably) because I can't afford anything bigger with my salary, and have my kids experience their parents being more miserable on a daily basis just because of a "maybe"? Living on my own would give me less freedom than I have now.
So, a couple of weeks ago, we had to say good-bye to our second dog, Moose. He was the first dog we had, and he was sweet, and lumpy and a pain in the butt. He went quietly and pain-free, thanks to our amazing veterinarian, and he was not alone. That triggered a deep sadness in me that didn't hit until a few days later. At that time, Natasha and I also talked about us.
She let me go.
It was the most selfless act she's ever done. Her feelings for me have not changed, but she told me that she understood that she took my ideal away and she wanted me to be able to find that again.
I took off my wedding ring and we decided to call each other "partner," although technically that's not much different than "spouse." It's a start, I guess.
Although there is a part of me that is relieved: that some day, should someone come along, I won't feel the guilt, I'm still going through a period of loss, and this is horrible. It reminds me of when I went through our closet to take out Jonathan's clothes. I was in mourning, and there was this person walking around that looked and acted a lot like Jonathan but was not him. Now, there's a person walking around that looks and acts a lot like my spouse, but we are now pretty much married by legalities only. It's yet another step toward what I feared would happen seven years ago. Seven years. Half of my marriage.
We decided not to divorce yet because realistically, should someone come along, I might decide that it's just not worth it. So many couples who are together for a long time end up being more friends than lovers. How many people can spend the last years of their lives with their best friend? Essentially, we're taking it slowly. Natasha wants me to be happy. I am happy, but not in foundational ways. I gave up my marriage so that she could find personal happiness. It was and still is better this way for everyone involved. Except for me, I'm not as happy, and she wants me to be that way again. But not before I get to be miserable about the official ending of my "married" relationship with my spouse... er... partner.
I'm still not okay with any of this. I'm not bouncing back as quickly as I have from other stuff. I still feel guilty. I remind myself that it's not just about sex. There's so much more to it than that. But as much as I want the opportunity to feel it again, I don't believe I will. I keep thinking that it's not worth the heartbreak anyway. Sure, that's coming from my self-image, but you can't just turn that stuff off. Whether it's true or not, the thought exists for me. And yet, even if I saw myself as a super model, I would continue to feel the sadness of moving on. I know that we will always be best friends. I know that we'll still hang out and do things together as a family (we have kids together, after all!). We will always be there for each other. But...
The fact is that any guy I meet will have to be understanding of things most people don't have to consider. For one, my "ex" would be a woman who is the father of my children, and that's kinda weird. He will have to be okay with the fact that I would still be good friends with my "ex." He would get that our marriage wouldn't have ended because of someone's fault, but because it sorta had to end, and that's sad. How many guys would get all that and want to be involved with that? I'm not holding my breath.
So, my wonderful readers, imagine you are a lone floaty ring in the middle of a swimming pool on an overcast, warm, windless day. Sort of comforting and relaxing, right? But you're not exactly going anywhere, either. That's me.
And so, a couple of weeks ago, the status quo changed a little.
It was common knowledge between Natasha and me that not only am I not a lesbian or even bi, but that because she is now a woman, I have not felt the same way about her on a physiological level. This alone has been heartbreaking to me, especially when I have so much as entertained a single thought of "what if" involving another man, I have felt immensely guilty.
Several people have suggested that we get divorced so I don't feel guilty. It would be easier to move on and be open to finding someone else. For several reasons, that doesn't work for me. The most important reason is that I'm not unhappy in my home life. I still love Natasha as much as I did before, even though the kind of love I have for her is different. No, we have no intimacy. What we do have is a friendship that is probably stronger than most people will ever get the privilege to experience.
I don't have someone waiting for me in the wings. I don't know, nor do I expect, to have that again. I'm in my mid-40s. I'm no model. I have kids. How appealing is that? So what do I do? Get a divorce, move into a one bedroom apartment (as would Natasha probably) because I can't afford anything bigger with my salary, and have my kids experience their parents being more miserable on a daily basis just because of a "maybe"? Living on my own would give me less freedom than I have now.
So, a couple of weeks ago, we had to say good-bye to our second dog, Moose. He was the first dog we had, and he was sweet, and lumpy and a pain in the butt. He went quietly and pain-free, thanks to our amazing veterinarian, and he was not alone. That triggered a deep sadness in me that didn't hit until a few days later. At that time, Natasha and I also talked about us.
She let me go.
It was the most selfless act she's ever done. Her feelings for me have not changed, but she told me that she understood that she took my ideal away and she wanted me to be able to find that again.
I took off my wedding ring and we decided to call each other "partner," although technically that's not much different than "spouse." It's a start, I guess.
Although there is a part of me that is relieved: that some day, should someone come along, I won't feel the guilt, I'm still going through a period of loss, and this is horrible. It reminds me of when I went through our closet to take out Jonathan's clothes. I was in mourning, and there was this person walking around that looked and acted a lot like Jonathan but was not him. Now, there's a person walking around that looks and acts a lot like my spouse, but we are now pretty much married by legalities only. It's yet another step toward what I feared would happen seven years ago. Seven years. Half of my marriage.
We decided not to divorce yet because realistically, should someone come along, I might decide that it's just not worth it. So many couples who are together for a long time end up being more friends than lovers. How many people can spend the last years of their lives with their best friend? Essentially, we're taking it slowly. Natasha wants me to be happy. I am happy, but not in foundational ways. I gave up my marriage so that she could find personal happiness. It was and still is better this way for everyone involved. Except for me, I'm not as happy, and she wants me to be that way again. But not before I get to be miserable about the official ending of my "married" relationship with my spouse... er... partner.
I'm still not okay with any of this. I'm not bouncing back as quickly as I have from other stuff. I still feel guilty. I remind myself that it's not just about sex. There's so much more to it than that. But as much as I want the opportunity to feel it again, I don't believe I will. I keep thinking that it's not worth the heartbreak anyway. Sure, that's coming from my self-image, but you can't just turn that stuff off. Whether it's true or not, the thought exists for me. And yet, even if I saw myself as a super model, I would continue to feel the sadness of moving on. I know that we will always be best friends. I know that we'll still hang out and do things together as a family (we have kids together, after all!). We will always be there for each other. But...
The fact is that any guy I meet will have to be understanding of things most people don't have to consider. For one, my "ex" would be a woman who is the father of my children, and that's kinda weird. He will have to be okay with the fact that I would still be good friends with my "ex." He would get that our marriage wouldn't have ended because of someone's fault, but because it sorta had to end, and that's sad. How many guys would get all that and want to be involved with that? I'm not holding my breath.
So, my wonderful readers, imagine you are a lone floaty ring in the middle of a swimming pool on an overcast, warm, windless day. Sort of comforting and relaxing, right? But you're not exactly going anywhere, either. That's me.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
A Need for Clarity
Hello, all you amazing readers!
I have a request from my transfans.
Will you please... or ask someone in your community to... create a glossary of terms the transgender community has created to describe everyone else.
Seriously. I'm not joking.
If the trans community really, really wants the non-trans community to fully embrace all of the wonderful qualities you all have as human beings, then you really have to consider that when the rest of us are called something that we don't understand, it kinda puts us off.
"Cishet"?
"Cisgender"? Thanks to GLAAD, we can look this on up.
I'm really, really not kidding my friends. Words are symbols. Words bring groups together and they can keep them apart. When someone writes something, for example, about the trans-experience in a non-trans oriented publication, do you expect to engender (pardon the pun) understanding or camaraderie when you use a term that only other transfolk understand?
It's like two people from different countries trying to forge a peace agreement when neither of them speak the same language nor do either have an interpreter.
Besides, "cishet" sounds like asshat to me. :-)
This is just a suggestion, beautiful people. But perhaps y'all should consider it somewhat seriously, since you know for a fact that I'm totally on your side. You know?
And by the way...
YAY SCOTUS!
I have a request from my transfans.
Will you please... or ask someone in your community to... create a glossary of terms the transgender community has created to describe everyone else.
Seriously. I'm not joking.
If the trans community really, really wants the non-trans community to fully embrace all of the wonderful qualities you all have as human beings, then you really have to consider that when the rest of us are called something that we don't understand, it kinda puts us off.
"Cishet"?
"Cisgender"? Thanks to GLAAD, we can look this on up.
I'm really, really not kidding my friends. Words are symbols. Words bring groups together and they can keep them apart. When someone writes something, for example, about the trans-experience in a non-trans oriented publication, do you expect to engender (pardon the pun) understanding or camaraderie when you use a term that only other transfolk understand?
It's like two people from different countries trying to forge a peace agreement when neither of them speak the same language nor do either have an interpreter.
Besides, "cishet" sounds like asshat to me. :-)
This is just a suggestion, beautiful people. But perhaps y'all should consider it somewhat seriously, since you know for a fact that I'm totally on your side. You know?
And by the way...
YAY SCOTUS!
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Weighing In
A few days ago, this op/ed
article appeared and caused a sh*t storm of its own. Burkett,
the author, a "journalist, a former professor of women’s studies and an Oscar-winning
documentary filmmaker," weighed in on Caitlyn Jenner's story. I read it
that evening and after finishing it, wrote my response to it. I needed to edit
it down, and then I got busy, and within two days I realized my efforts to
submit a rebuttal to the NY Times was moot because everyone and their sister
did it already.
What follows is a shorter, much more organized version of my intended response.
Ahem...
Do men and women have different brains? This was the pivotal question Burkett posed in her article and the proceeded to, sort of, answer. As cheesy as Chelsea Manning's comment was about having been more emotionally inspired by Jenner's story, it didn't matter. Much of Burkett's opinions featured in this piece didn't matter because they were irrelevant to her original point of concern. What ultimately mattered to Burkett was that people insinuated that one could actually witness physical/chemical differences in male and female brains and that those differences actually have outer consequences.
Rightfully so, Burkett reminded readers that because of perceived mental capacities, women were oppressed in many cultures for hundreds, even thousands of years. Burkett states that, "People who haven’t lived their whole lives as women...shouldn’t get to define us. That’s something men have been doing for much too long."
I get that. I totally get that. No one should ever "get" to define anyone else. Like Burkett said, "Their truth is not my truth." A-men, sister!
And herein lies the enormously hypocritical flaw in Burkett's argument. She says the following:
Well, I guess I'm something other than a woman, because... um... I haven't suffered any of these things, except maybe for that almost bleeding through my pants in public, but I was, like 16 at the time.
Sure, men have looked at my boobs while I was talking; however, I also got intelligent verbal responses from them. Maybe my boobs weren't pretty enough or what I said far outweighed the boob allure.
In all the years I was on the pill, I was NEVER ONCE terrified that I'd forgotten to take one. Like the directions said, if you missed one, take it as soon as you realize you missed it. Perhaps I was more responsible with my pill-taking, pregnancy-preventing responsibilities than she was.
As I worked in academia for many years, WE ALL HAD CRAPPY PAYCHECKS. In fact, I earned more than most because of the unreasonable number of masters degrees I have.
The fear of rape thing? That cinches it for me. I have never once in my ENTIRE LIFE been afraid of being too weak to fight off a rapist. Never. Ever. I'm so strong that other people ask me to walk them to their cars, and I'm not referring to my physical strength (although my dad did always say I was strong as an ox).
Burkett should dismiss me right away. I have to go to the Virginia department of records or whatever and have my birth certificate changed from girl to... something else. I'm clearly not a guy. Unfortunately for Burkett, her argument that women can only call themselves such because of experience is a load of hot, stinky crap, and I am living proof of that.
To attempt a justification of this warped way of thinking, Burkett returns to the subject of brains. She says that "science" has determined that "they're in fact shaped by experience, cultural and otherwise." Yes, I've read those studies, and they also say that experience is only a part of what makes a brain function the way it does. Those same scientists DO NOT discount the actual fact (which has repeatedly been documented and proven) that there are male and female brains. Gina Rippon, that professor of neuroscience she quoted, was the ONLY science-type person to entirely dismiss the science of the effect of hormones on brain chemistry in-utero. So, of course Burkett is going to glom onto this person... who isn't actually a scientist but just a professor who makes unfounded suspicions to seminar attendees. The notion that you can't look at a brain and tell that it's a male or female brain, as stated by Rippon, is ludicrous to suggest as proof. Of course you can't. But you can look at it with machines and other scientific tools that can.
The next couple of paragraphs of Burkett's rant is blather, so I'm going to skip them.
Burkett continues, "The `I was born in the wrong body' rhetoric favored by other trans people...is...offensive, reducing us to our collective breasts and vaginas." Maybe for Burkett. Yet this comment is reminiscent of her earlier comment that one can't be a woman if one hasn't suffered like she has. Feeling that a person was born in the wrong body has far more implications than being about breasts and vaginas. Quick quiz: First, what word that starts with an H caused your body to produce those breasts and that vagina? Second, did that thing that starts with an H affect any other parts of your body or personality development? (The answers, FYI, are "Hormones," and "YES!" or "Duh!") Burkett's lack of empathy here is fantastic, painting a sparkling, clear picture of her view of "the Other." Talk about marginalizing a group of people! Not being transsexual, I can't possibly imagine what that feeling is like, but my spouse completed her transition in 2012, so I've got that as a reference. It is my understanding that the feeling of being in the wrong body can often be akin to having a wet, heavy, musty blanket all over your body that you can't get off.
Transfolk? Did I nail it?
Now, I'm not going to nail Burkett on anything she reported about the trans community having a problem with using the word "vagina" for plays and things about women. There are radicals in the trans community, too. That doesn't mean, nor did they imply, that they speak for all trans women. Burkett is just complaining that the people whom she aims to label are slinging mud, too. Yeah? And? Two wrongs don't make a right, you know.
No. Wait. I am going to nail her. Burkett has a problem with a group of people who are fighting for inclusion in abortion rights? Really? You go, Fund Texas Chioce, formerly Fund Texas Women, for understanding that anyone with a uterus might need an abortion some day. Women's colleges are probably not "contorting themselves into knots" for re-thinking how to accommodate women who are accepting who they are and asking their school to support them. Does Burkett have proof that these schools are freaking out? I'd like to see those documents, please. She singles out Wellesley College as being tormented by trans issues, but hey, let's just take a look at part of their mission statement:
Burkett lastly offers trans women a compromise: we womenfolk will happily support your right to be whomever you want to be along the X-Y chromosomal spectrum (which Burkett says is possible because what you do with your life defines your gender) just as long as you don't call yourselves women. That is so kind, isn't she?
She doesn't speak for me. Her truth isn't my truth. We may have been born with the same type of brain (female), but because of our experiences, we have developed into vastly different types of human being. If being allowed to use the term "woman" means that I had to have suffered from fear and degradation at the hands of males, then you can have it. On the other hand, I vote to remove Burkett's ability to call herself a women for the same reasons. Women are adult females. That's my understanding, at least. I give you permission, Ms. Burkett, to continue using the word "woman" to define yourself because I'm a nice person and because my definition is broad enough to include you. I suppose that if I were to follow your lead, I could change my definition to suit my fear-based arguments, but I don't think I'll do that because I'm not afraid of anything. Dirty litter boxes: those are scary. And that dream where you have a ton of homework due but you're already late to class. That one terrifies me every time!
Oh yeah. Those people who try to marginalize others because of difference, based on a conjecture that is utterly contrary to modern science... Do men and women have different brains? Are black people or Jews equal races to white Europeans? Does factory exhaust contribute to climate change? Does fracking cause earthquakes?
Those people frighten me the most.
What follows is a shorter, much more organized version of my intended response.
Ahem...
Do men and women have different brains? This was the pivotal question Burkett posed in her article and the proceeded to, sort of, answer. As cheesy as Chelsea Manning's comment was about having been more emotionally inspired by Jenner's story, it didn't matter. Much of Burkett's opinions featured in this piece didn't matter because they were irrelevant to her original point of concern. What ultimately mattered to Burkett was that people insinuated that one could actually witness physical/chemical differences in male and female brains and that those differences actually have outer consequences.
Rightfully so, Burkett reminded readers that because of perceived mental capacities, women were oppressed in many cultures for hundreds, even thousands of years. Burkett states that, "People who haven’t lived their whole lives as women...shouldn’t get to define us. That’s something men have been doing for much too long."
I get that. I totally get that. No one should ever "get" to define anyone else. Like Burkett said, "Their truth is not my truth." A-men, sister!
And herein lies the enormously hypocritical flaw in Burkett's argument. She says the following:
They haven’t traveled through the world as women and been shaped by all that this entails. They haven’t suffered through business meetings with men talking to their breasts or woken up after sex terrified they’d forgotten to take their birth control pills the day before. They haven’t had to cope with the onset of their periods in the middle of a crowded subway, the humiliation of discovering that their male work partners’ checks were far larger than theirs, or the fear of being too weak to ward off rapists.
In other words, "women" have suffered or are
constantly at risk of suffering at the hands or gawking eyeballs of men... or
from having a period.
Well, I guess I'm something other than a woman, because... um... I haven't suffered any of these things, except maybe for that almost bleeding through my pants in public, but I was, like 16 at the time.
Sure, men have looked at my boobs while I was talking; however, I also got intelligent verbal responses from them. Maybe my boobs weren't pretty enough or what I said far outweighed the boob allure.
In all the years I was on the pill, I was NEVER ONCE terrified that I'd forgotten to take one. Like the directions said, if you missed one, take it as soon as you realize you missed it. Perhaps I was more responsible with my pill-taking, pregnancy-preventing responsibilities than she was.
As I worked in academia for many years, WE ALL HAD CRAPPY PAYCHECKS. In fact, I earned more than most because of the unreasonable number of masters degrees I have.
The fear of rape thing? That cinches it for me. I have never once in my ENTIRE LIFE been afraid of being too weak to fight off a rapist. Never. Ever. I'm so strong that other people ask me to walk them to their cars, and I'm not referring to my physical strength (although my dad did always say I was strong as an ox).
Burkett should dismiss me right away. I have to go to the Virginia department of records or whatever and have my birth certificate changed from girl to... something else. I'm clearly not a guy. Unfortunately for Burkett, her argument that women can only call themselves such because of experience is a load of hot, stinky crap, and I am living proof of that.
To attempt a justification of this warped way of thinking, Burkett returns to the subject of brains. She says that "science" has determined that "they're in fact shaped by experience, cultural and otherwise." Yes, I've read those studies, and they also say that experience is only a part of what makes a brain function the way it does. Those same scientists DO NOT discount the actual fact (which has repeatedly been documented and proven) that there are male and female brains. Gina Rippon, that professor of neuroscience she quoted, was the ONLY science-type person to entirely dismiss the science of the effect of hormones on brain chemistry in-utero. So, of course Burkett is going to glom onto this person... who isn't actually a scientist but just a professor who makes unfounded suspicions to seminar attendees. The notion that you can't look at a brain and tell that it's a male or female brain, as stated by Rippon, is ludicrous to suggest as proof. Of course you can't. But you can look at it with machines and other scientific tools that can.
The next couple of paragraphs of Burkett's rant is blather, so I'm going to skip them.
Burkett continues, "The `I was born in the wrong body' rhetoric favored by other trans people...is...offensive, reducing us to our collective breasts and vaginas." Maybe for Burkett. Yet this comment is reminiscent of her earlier comment that one can't be a woman if one hasn't suffered like she has. Feeling that a person was born in the wrong body has far more implications than being about breasts and vaginas. Quick quiz: First, what word that starts with an H caused your body to produce those breasts and that vagina? Second, did that thing that starts with an H affect any other parts of your body or personality development? (The answers, FYI, are "Hormones," and "YES!" or "Duh!") Burkett's lack of empathy here is fantastic, painting a sparkling, clear picture of her view of "the Other." Talk about marginalizing a group of people! Not being transsexual, I can't possibly imagine what that feeling is like, but my spouse completed her transition in 2012, so I've got that as a reference. It is my understanding that the feeling of being in the wrong body can often be akin to having a wet, heavy, musty blanket all over your body that you can't get off.
Transfolk? Did I nail it?
Now, I'm not going to nail Burkett on anything she reported about the trans community having a problem with using the word "vagina" for plays and things about women. There are radicals in the trans community, too. That doesn't mean, nor did they imply, that they speak for all trans women. Burkett is just complaining that the people whom she aims to label are slinging mud, too. Yeah? And? Two wrongs don't make a right, you know.
No. Wait. I am going to nail her. Burkett has a problem with a group of people who are fighting for inclusion in abortion rights? Really? You go, Fund Texas Chioce, formerly Fund Texas Women, for understanding that anyone with a uterus might need an abortion some day. Women's colleges are probably not "contorting themselves into knots" for re-thinking how to accommodate women who are accepting who they are and asking their school to support them. Does Burkett have proof that these schools are freaking out? I'd like to see those documents, please. She singles out Wellesley College as being tormented by trans issues, but hey, let's just take a look at part of their mission statement:
Valuing Diversity
There is no greater benefit to one’s intellectual and social development—and to the vitality of an academic community—than the forthright engagement with and exploration of unfamiliar viewpoints and experiences. Wellesley encourages students to try on new ideas, try out new courses of action, and interact authentically with others whose beliefs or choices challenge their own.
..."and interact authentically with others whose
beliefs or choices challenge their own." Hmmm. I'm thinking that Burkett
did not get accepted to Wellesley. I hope Columbia University's excellent
reputation isn't too tarnished by Burkett's lack of "fair and
balanced" reporting.
Burkett lastly offers trans women a compromise: we womenfolk will happily support your right to be whomever you want to be along the X-Y chromosomal spectrum (which Burkett says is possible because what you do with your life defines your gender) just as long as you don't call yourselves women. That is so kind, isn't she?
She doesn't speak for me. Her truth isn't my truth. We may have been born with the same type of brain (female), but because of our experiences, we have developed into vastly different types of human being. If being allowed to use the term "woman" means that I had to have suffered from fear and degradation at the hands of males, then you can have it. On the other hand, I vote to remove Burkett's ability to call herself a women for the same reasons. Women are adult females. That's my understanding, at least. I give you permission, Ms. Burkett, to continue using the word "woman" to define yourself because I'm a nice person and because my definition is broad enough to include you. I suppose that if I were to follow your lead, I could change my definition to suit my fear-based arguments, but I don't think I'll do that because I'm not afraid of anything. Dirty litter boxes: those are scary. And that dream where you have a ton of homework due but you're already late to class. That one terrifies me every time!
Oh yeah. Those people who try to marginalize others because of difference, based on a conjecture that is utterly contrary to modern science... Do men and women have different brains? Are black people or Jews equal races to white Europeans? Does factory exhaust contribute to climate change? Does fracking cause earthquakes?
Those people frighten me the most.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
A Sad Day, Indeed
My heart goes out to her mother. I'd like to show up on the doorsteps of the assholes on 4chan and beat the living crap out of each of them.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/04/28/killed-myself-sorry-transgender-game-developer-jumps-off-bridge-after-online-abuse/
http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/04/28/killed-myself-sorry-transgender-game-developer-jumps-off-bridge-after-online-abuse/
Monday, April 27, 2015
The Bruce Jenner Interview Experience
It's been a few days since the interview and in those few days, the transgender conversation has exploded. Within the community, I've seen both overwhelming support and overwhelming damnation of Bruce Jenner coming out on national television.
Dawn Ennis, a friend of mine (whom I have yet to physically meet :-D) in the trans community, made an excellent point in her TV interview that everyone has their own experience in how he or she discovered and figured out what to do about being transsexual, and I think people need to be conscious of that. Jenner is a celebrity and has been for about 40 years. No one could ask him to remain closeted just because his coming out would invite so much press. In my opinion, he handled it well. I can think of several other ways this could have gone really badly.
As the spouse of a transsexual (I'm still not sure why no one used this word instead of transgender, but I'm no expert either), I found the interview fascinating. Much of what Jenner said was true for our experience - albeit from my perspective. We have two kids, but they were much younger when Tasha began her transition than when Jenner's transition started. I was amused at one of the wife's quoted comments calling transition a "journey" because that's what Tasha's father called it. It's a very impersonal comment. I would never call what a trans person goes through a "journey." "Ordeal," probably. "Process," maybe. But when you wish people luck on their journey, it means you are not coming along. It's that person's journey, so send me a postcard when you get there.
I think Jenner will have a lot of support throughout the transition, even outside the family. People will accept the woman Jenner is and that will be good for trans people. But what about the other trans people? The ones who are not celebrities. The ones whose name we don't know. The ones whose only person looking at him or her is himself or herself in the mirror.
I thought mostly about the wives as I listened to the interview. I'm a spouse, after all. It was nice to hear that the ex-wives were supportive (although if they weren't they wouldn't say since they were quoted on national TV). I thought about having torn feelings toward Tasha's transition. I thought about being angry at the universe for all of it.
I remembered thoughts that went through my head only a few years ago that still echo sometimes in my head. As I was taking the last of Jonathan's things out of our closet and putting them into bags, I had this crazy revelation (however irrational it might have been) that I didn't marry a man after all. I married a woman. The only person who wanted to marry me was not even a guy. I'd had relationships before, but none of those led to marriage because clearly guys didn't find me to be marriage material. It made perfect sense to me at the time. If you know me personally, you'll agree that it fit nicely into my self-image.
Jenner said that as a man, he was being himself under the circumstances. That was not authentic to how he really felt about who he was, but in the man's body, he was who he could be: a woman's brain in a man's body. But did that make him a "man" while he was in that body? He certainly had that body's sensations. Like Tasha, he acted and reacted like a guy. Tasha tried to convince me of this, and I finally just let the idea go, but I maintained that a female brain was responsible for guiding the testosterone-driven body, so it was still not quite the same. But does it really matter in the long run for me as a spouse? It shouldn't. People come in all colors. Some guys with guy brains are more emotional than other guys with guy brains. I, for one, do not act like a "girly girl." So, should it have mattered? No, but it did. Have you ever doubted your attractiveness because your partner changed genders? Do you think the average person ever would?
The interview made me wonder about all of the other spouses out there. The ones who, like me, have gone on "the journey" with their partners/spouses. I know that there are many spouses who say they're bi-sexual, so the gender change didn't matter to them. What about the other heterosexual spouses? That's why I started this blog: to share my experience with other spouses out there. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but I kept thinking about the stories of those women and men who chose to stay and how many of those trans people never tried to end their lives because of it. I felt for Jenner's wives. I cannot have a shared experience with the transsexual person, but I can with their partners. I also thought about stories of partners who left.
If you haven't watched the interview, you should. I wonder what people who have absolutely no exposure to this felt about it. I mean really. I'm not talking about the people who post responses under articles. My perspective is different as a spouse to that of a transsexual. My experience is different from other spouses/partners. My experience is different from someone who has never had to think about it. What this interview did was start a bigger conversation, and that's super important. Sure, it's going to cause all sorts of reactions. Some will probably be bad. But the elephant is in the room and nobody can get around it without touching it now (unless perhaps you live under the carpet). So much good can come out of this. It's true and proper education at its finest. It's a "real world application," as they like to call it. Your perspective on the interview is important. The interview itself can be a jumping-off point to meaningful conversations.
Take advantage of Jenner's vulnerability, no matter what you thought of it.
Dawn Ennis, a friend of mine (whom I have yet to physically meet :-D) in the trans community, made an excellent point in her TV interview that everyone has their own experience in how he or she discovered and figured out what to do about being transsexual, and I think people need to be conscious of that. Jenner is a celebrity and has been for about 40 years. No one could ask him to remain closeted just because his coming out would invite so much press. In my opinion, he handled it well. I can think of several other ways this could have gone really badly.
As the spouse of a transsexual (I'm still not sure why no one used this word instead of transgender, but I'm no expert either), I found the interview fascinating. Much of what Jenner said was true for our experience - albeit from my perspective. We have two kids, but they were much younger when Tasha began her transition than when Jenner's transition started. I was amused at one of the wife's quoted comments calling transition a "journey" because that's what Tasha's father called it. It's a very impersonal comment. I would never call what a trans person goes through a "journey." "Ordeal," probably. "Process," maybe. But when you wish people luck on their journey, it means you are not coming along. It's that person's journey, so send me a postcard when you get there.
I think Jenner will have a lot of support throughout the transition, even outside the family. People will accept the woman Jenner is and that will be good for trans people. But what about the other trans people? The ones who are not celebrities. The ones whose name we don't know. The ones whose only person looking at him or her is himself or herself in the mirror.
I thought mostly about the wives as I listened to the interview. I'm a spouse, after all. It was nice to hear that the ex-wives were supportive (although if they weren't they wouldn't say since they were quoted on national TV). I thought about having torn feelings toward Tasha's transition. I thought about being angry at the universe for all of it.
I remembered thoughts that went through my head only a few years ago that still echo sometimes in my head. As I was taking the last of Jonathan's things out of our closet and putting them into bags, I had this crazy revelation (however irrational it might have been) that I didn't marry a man after all. I married a woman. The only person who wanted to marry me was not even a guy. I'd had relationships before, but none of those led to marriage because clearly guys didn't find me to be marriage material. It made perfect sense to me at the time. If you know me personally, you'll agree that it fit nicely into my self-image.
Jenner said that as a man, he was being himself under the circumstances. That was not authentic to how he really felt about who he was, but in the man's body, he was who he could be: a woman's brain in a man's body. But did that make him a "man" while he was in that body? He certainly had that body's sensations. Like Tasha, he acted and reacted like a guy. Tasha tried to convince me of this, and I finally just let the idea go, but I maintained that a female brain was responsible for guiding the testosterone-driven body, so it was still not quite the same. But does it really matter in the long run for me as a spouse? It shouldn't. People come in all colors. Some guys with guy brains are more emotional than other guys with guy brains. I, for one, do not act like a "girly girl." So, should it have mattered? No, but it did. Have you ever doubted your attractiveness because your partner changed genders? Do you think the average person ever would?
The interview made me wonder about all of the other spouses out there. The ones who, like me, have gone on "the journey" with their partners/spouses. I know that there are many spouses who say they're bi-sexual, so the gender change didn't matter to them. What about the other heterosexual spouses? That's why I started this blog: to share my experience with other spouses out there. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but I kept thinking about the stories of those women and men who chose to stay and how many of those trans people never tried to end their lives because of it. I felt for Jenner's wives. I cannot have a shared experience with the transsexual person, but I can with their partners. I also thought about stories of partners who left.
If you haven't watched the interview, you should. I wonder what people who have absolutely no exposure to this felt about it. I mean really. I'm not talking about the people who post responses under articles. My perspective is different as a spouse to that of a transsexual. My experience is different from other spouses/partners. My experience is different from someone who has never had to think about it. What this interview did was start a bigger conversation, and that's super important. Sure, it's going to cause all sorts of reactions. Some will probably be bad. But the elephant is in the room and nobody can get around it without touching it now (unless perhaps you live under the carpet). So much good can come out of this. It's true and proper education at its finest. It's a "real world application," as they like to call it. Your perspective on the interview is important. The interview itself can be a jumping-off point to meaningful conversations.
Take advantage of Jenner's vulnerability, no matter what you thought of it.
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