All of us who have chosen to cross the gender line have been confronted with The Question at some time.
Perhaps it's come from a close friend, an acquaintance at work, or even that person sleeping on the other side of the bed - someone in whom you've confided your ultimate secret. Maybe it was your reflection in the mirror that said it to you the night that you first grasped the full measure of your femme self. Regardless, we must eventually come to grips with The Question in the flesh:
What are you?
(A caveat for the unwary: we're about to enter the ticklish world of crossgender identity and nomenclature - The Transie Zone. This subject has been known to make some people weak in the knees, so there's still time to jump ship. Staying aboard? Read on!)
When was the first time you realized you weren't the only male on earth who wanted to be a female? For me, it happened when I was about ten years old, and I heard of Christine Jorgensen for the first time. Oh sure, I'd grown up with the camping of Milton Berle and other comics who did drag for laughs, but I never associated that with the nirvana I experienced when I put on my mother's stockings or bra. But when I first heard of Christine, I realized that it was actually possible to go someplace, have surgery and come out with a woman's body - the entire course of my life began to make sense.
It took another ten years before I was able to make sense of the nomenclature of crossdressing. Complicating the matter was the widely varying interpretation of the psychiatric community, based, for the most part, on whether the shrink in question was sympathetic or not. (It's a long way from Harry Benjamin to Wilhelm Stekel.) Last time I looked there were drag queens, crossdressers, transvestites, transgenderists, female impersonators, pre-operative and post- operative transsexuals, not to mention a variety of names to cover the seemingly endless gray areas that crop up.
So, what are you? For the record, when I swore out a formal declaration of change of gender status, I described myself as a "transgendered female," which I think best describes some one who lives and works completely as a female without hormones or surgery. My roommate constantly describes me as a "transvestite" to others, which makes me a little uncomfortable because I don't think the term adequately defines my lifestyle. Nonetheless, I usually let it go because the term is more familiar, and easier to grasp than the one I believe is more accurate. What I usually call myself, and virtually everyone else in our community, is a "tran." That covers the whole spectrum and leaves lots of room for interpretation.
And, I believe that room for interpretation is absolutely vital, because all of us, from the most occasional TV to the post-op TS, function along a single genetic continuum. The urge to explore the world of the opposite gender is so prevalent among the human population that it has to be considered a full recessive trait, like red hair or left-handedness. The only real difference between the closet-tran and, say, Caroline (Tula) Cossey, is one of degree of expression.
Am I saying that any tran is capable of going all the way, of crossing the line completely? Yes, subject to environmental and emotional stability. I have gotten into violent, almost physical, arguments over this, mostly with pre-op transsexuals who simply don't want to believe that their struggle to emerge can possibly exist in the same universe as the casual transvestite. To argue otherwise is to suggest that an occasional crossdresser can never cross the line. Yet, I know it's possible, because it's exactly what I did.
Okay, suppose you've located the point along the tran-continuum where you feel most comfortable, that best expresses your degree of involvement. What are you? The Question still holds because we haven't considered the aspect of sexuality.
A friend of mine, a pre-op transsexual who is deeply involved in political-action movements, asked me not long ago why it was so difficult to get trans involved in gay/lesbian activist organizations like Queer Nation, especially since we are being accepted more and more into their ranks (at least in the New York area)? The primary reason is that most trans don't consider themselves gay.
I've been confounded for many years by the concept of the "heterosexual TV," the tran who can be as femme as all get-out, then become pure macho under the covers. It's always struck me as a particularly dangerous way to play with your own head. But, a lot of trans, whose judgement I trust, tell me that it can be done without damage, so I have to accept that the category exists. But, there's no way that any but the most politically enlightened among them would ever join a gay or lesbian organization.
So, I posed this riddle to my friend: Suppose a tran has "The Operation," meets the man of her dreams, and settles down to a family life, is she gay or straight? You can bet your life that she'll call herself straight. So, there's another group that won't join.
I suppose that the reason arose at all is because of the sexuality of the people involved. I consider myself a lesbian, because, as a woman, I prefer the sexual company of biological females. To their considerable credit, a number of enlightened lesbian organizations have begun to admit us as comrades-in-arms, convinced of our sincere wish to live authentic female lives. My friend prefers the sexual company of other trans, and be it masculine or feminine, that definitely qualifies as gay.
The lesson to be learned here is that being a tran really doesn't have anything to do with defining your sexuality, no matter how some psychologists try to categorize us. The variations are as wide as the points on the tran continuum, and range from the flamboyant queen of Greenwich Village to…you, perhaps. You can be whatever you want to be, as long as you're honest with yourself.
What are you? There is one thing you cannot be, under any circumstances: you cannot be a female among biological females. No matter what you do to yourself, no matter how much you alter your mind, body, or self-image, the best you can do is to be a "woman," not a female. You haven't lived a female's life. You haven't experienced, first-hand, the inherent second-class status that females experience from birth. You haven't experienced the shock of your first menstruation; the awkwardness of growing breasts two years ahead (or behind) anyone else in your class; the unwanted advances of a man who won't take "No" for an answer; or the nightmare of an unwanted pregnancy. You have chosen to become a woman, but you come in without any of the emotional baggage involved in being a female. Biological women know this instinctively, and if you try to present yourself as their precise equal - regardless of your commitment - you will be rejected. I can guarantee it.
On the other hand, if you've made the commitment to live as a woman, and you're open and above board about your intentions, you will be amazed at the friendliness, empathy, and support you'll get from other women. They're fascinated and intrigued by the effort involved in crossing the gender line, and once you've actually made the switch, you can expect to get suggestions, advice and active assistance from women who are rooting for you to succeed.
I know from my own experience that, ever since I first decided to go "full-time" and resolved in my head exactly who Maggie Morgan was and wasn't, the many women in my life have been nothing but supportive. I've been accepted so thoroughly that a woman who works where I buy my foundations, and who has known me since before the changeover, accosted me in the street and proceeded to give me a blow-by-blow description of her PMS! I know it sounds perverse, but if you want the acceptance of women, don't try to say you're one of them. If you don't, you'll be treated like one. Go figure.
Of course, if the woman with whom you're rolling around in bed declare that you're a "real" woman, accept the compliment. No doubt you've earned it.
All right then, The Question: What are you? Here's The Answer: you are you, a very special, particularly blessed person given the gift to be able to change your life as thoroughly as it can be changed, and you have the courage to use that gift. And, needless to say, you are beautiful.
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