It is in terms of this complexity that I am reminded of a recent personal experience in which it was temporarily important to deemphasize my gender change. It was a large family gathering which I attended somewhat masculinized, at least from the neck down. I wore a shirt, tie, dark slacks, a navy blue blazer, and traditional leather loafers. But my face and hair did not really fit into the masculine image I was reluctantly trying to convey.
I was very uncomfortable from the outset, more than I had expected would be the case. I received quite a few stares and felt I was being avoided. Generally speaking, I had an androgynous appearance. My body was dressed for the occasion, but my head was resistant, both inside and out. I found myself retreating within myself, not wanting to talk to anyone. I finally began to doze at the table while everyone else was dancing. I was probably perceived as being distant and unapproachable, perhaps even arrogant. But actually I was dancing alone on the inside and wanting desperately to join the dance of life on the outside. Returning home when it was all over was like returning from a very bad dream.
ooking back on this experience, I can see that I did not feel visible in
terms of the person I really am: a woman. Even if I had looked completely
masculine, I would still have felt extremely uncomfortable. for it was
difficult, if not impossible, to participate when I did not feel fully
alive and fully present. Even when someone did reach out to me, I felt too
divided in my appearance to respond as a whole person. I am not denying
the fact that I was born a male, but it seems, at least in my case, that I
cannot serve two masters. I was crossdressed in reverse, and it did not
work. I had wanted to help my family, to give them less to deal with, by
downplaying my gender change, but I did not really help them or myself.
What was intended to be of temporary help to others left me temporarily
invisible in terms of my true sense of self.
Being truly visible seems to happen from the inside out, no matter how much I try to camouflage it or even to deny it. A poem I wrote describes the sense of human wholeness and thus the true visibility to which I am committed and which makes difficult an occasional attempt to please others at the expense of my true sense of self, no matter how well intentioned I may be. The poem is called, I Buried You:
I buried you
alive,
but you refused to die.
I buried you
before we really met,
before I recognized
your beauty,
your soul,
your hopes and dreams.
I buried you,
because I never knew
that God ordained
your presence on this earth,
that you were meant to be,
to be with me.
And so now
I want to resurrect your life,
to greet you with open arms,
to welcome you back
from the living dead.
Yes,
your death has been
a living death,
for all along
I have courted you secretly,
saying "Hello!"
when no-one,
except maybe God,
was looking or listening.
Perhaps now,
somehow,
we can live and die
together,
you and I,
living openly as one,
till God's work with us
is truly done.
© 1996 by Human Dimensions