Hooray! The Pride March is today!

For months, I’ve been attending a journalism course where all my classmates think –or thought– I was a cisgender boy. I’ve known the teacher for a couple of years –he used to teach at my school– so he knows I’m trans, but no one else figured it out. I used to think they might, but since then I’ve learned that most people in my context will see me as a guy. I could say that I “pass” well, but I know that in other places I might be perceived differently; so I won’t take any credit.

That class was my safe haven; the one place where I was treated unconditionally as a boy. Until very recently, only my closest friends managed to use my preferred name and pronouns, and on my insecure days I doubt that they really see me as a guy (well, I know they can’t, but it only matters on insecure days). With my journalism mates, I knew that my masculinity wouldn’t be constantly in question. If I didn’t bind too tightly, no one would think “ah, her –his– breasts are showing”; they wouldn’t even be aware of my chest. If I didn’t act super-macho, they wouldn’t attribute it to my female past. Having that space to look forward to, every week, helped keep me sane.

I might say that I was/am “stealth” there, but I didn’t feel like I was lying. Although I always got along well with my classmates, we’ve never spoken much about our personal lives. I didn’t have any reasons to come out as trans, and I did have a very good reason not to: my maleness would begin to be questioned, and I didn’t know if it would hold up to their scrutiny. Some people, after learning I’m trans, suddenly start using all the wrong pronouns; after all, for a heteronormative mind, it’s very easy to see me as a female/girl. I did not want to lose my gender oasis.

This last class, the teacher invited a gay activist for us to interview (gotta love this teacher). The activist was really trans-positive, so afterwards, when we were walking together to the bus stop –him, a classmate, and I– I mentioned I was trans. My classmate was surprised and said I didn’t have to “hide” who I was — uh, sorry, I was being myself when I introduced myself as a guy. But all in all, she was cool about it. Also, she wasn’t sure whether I was a trans boy or a trans girl — I love it when I confuse people that way. (I might miss my androgyny a bit if I take T, although it’s worth it.)

Knowing this person, she’s probably going to tell some of our other classmates, which is fine. We only have a few lessons left before summer break, so I don’t have much to lose, and it’s a good chance to teach the other students a couple of things about trans people. First, that we aren’t always visible. Second, that we can be kinda nice people. A couple of kids made transphobic jokes at one point, so I hope I make them reconsider their view of trans folk — or at least, make them think twice before telling those jokes among people they think are cis. I’m not going to change the world, but I think tiny actions like this do help a little. I hope that, someday, I feel strong enough to do more.

Finding my first name was easy: it popped into my head suddenly and I simply knew that it fit. My middle name won’t be so important, so I can relax and think about what it will mean to me: do I want it to have a symbolic meaning, honor someone I admire, or be original?

I thought of using something rare because my first and last names are pretty common — there are two people at my school with my same full name. I considered a couple of non-Spanish names, but using something non-European seems like cultural appropriation, and using something from the elsewhere in Europe –especially something in English– seems like selling out to cultural imperialism (although, of course, Spaniards came to this land through colonialism). I want to read more about these issues, but in the meantime, I think I’ll stick to Hispanic names. At least they feel more familiar.

I also thought of using my old name as a middle name, but right now, it’s hard for me to even hear it. Sometimes, when I stumble over it unexpectedly, I feel a little confused — is that really my ID? Both reactions –rejection and detachment– aren’t exactly positive, so I can rule out that option. Actually, I don’t even know if it’s legal for a guy to have a girl name: the Argentinian naming law forbids any names that cause confusion about a person’s sex (it also forbids “extravagant”, “ridiculous” or hard-to-pronounce names, which sounds rather imprecise). There are traditional exceptions, such as María José for a girl and José María for a boy. In any case, right now, it’s impossible for me to get a name or gender change on my ID for legal reasons that I’ll explain in a future post.

My best choice is my dad’s middle name. I love it for several reasons: it’s a way to pay tribute to my father, I like how it sounds, and I like its initial — it fits well into the rest of my name.  Plus, I identify strongly with it, and its meaning seems appropriate: “new house”. My first name, by the way, means “free” — interpreting broadly, I’d be free to find my place in the world.

Those meanings aren’t uber-important to me; it’s nice to know that my name doesn’t mean “cranky”, but that doesn’t have much weight in daily life. People are more likely to associate other people with their namesakes rather than with their name’s origin. For instance, the name Eva, to most Argentinians, would evoke Eva Perón rather than Adam and Eve. None of my names has such a strong association, which is fine by me — it could become an onerous burden. And I want to be “free to find my own place in the world”, don’t I?

For now, at least, I’m enjoying the freedom to try on different middle names.

This week, it finally hit me: in two months, I’ll be done with secondary school. I only became fully aware of the consequences today, at a “how to sign up for college” information session. I thought I wouldn’t have to sign up until next year; as it turns out, registration is next MONTH. So I have to figure out, pronto, how to get signed up with my correct name.

I chose a college which, according to many word-of-mouth sources, has a “preferred name” system for trans students. However, I haven’t found any documents confirming that. Even if it is true, the person in charge of enrollment might not be aware of that, so I should be prepared. I tried calling several information numbers, unsuccessfully, and I sent emails to three different info addresses. If all fails, I’ll try going in person.

I’ve chosen to stay at my school for an extra year to do introductory college-level courses  –allowing me to skip a whole year at the university– which is why I thought I wouldn’t have to sign up at college yet. I do, though, and on top of that I still have to persuade the secondary-school principal to accept my preferred name.  The good thing is, if I manage to change my name at school but not at the university, it won’t be a big deal — I’ll have an extra year to work with that.

In any case, I have to come out to my parents soon. I promised myself that I’d talk to them right after graduating, so I can move forward with my life a bit. I’d like to start testosterone next year and actively research chest surgeons: I thought a lot about this, and I want both. Since graduation dates got pushed far into November, my coming out plans fall dangerously close to Christmas. I don’t want to postpone this indefinitely –even though it’s the VERY SCARIEST thing I’ve ever done– so I might talk to them before ending school. I don’t want to ruin my graduation, but it might be best to it during the school year so I have something to distract me for most of every day.

I hadn’t decided on this before typing this post, so I’m feeling pretty shaken now. But I’m glad that I’m finally going confront my greatest fear. In Spanish, it’s called “huir hacia delante”: fleeing forward. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but at least I’m going to be moving somewhere.

Several of my classmates have started using my new name, or at least my gender-neutral nickname. What a relief. I didn’t get around to proactively enforcing my name, so I’m not sure what happened. Maybe one of my friends realized I was upset about this issue and she asked people to please respect my gender. Or maybe it was bound to happen eventually, once I reached the critical mass of people who use the right name. It’s contagious! Seriously, though, I think people feel less awkward if others are also using my new name. In any case, I feel grateful.

Now I’ve encountered a new challenge. After years of practice, I got so used to interacting with my classmates from a defensive place that now I don’t really know how to act. I’m not complaining, and I certainly don’t want to go back to a gender-hurtful situation; I just need to relearn how to open up a little with this set of people. I’ve spent almost five years with them, and some are really nice; it seems worth a shot.

I’m glad that I’m experiencing this now, right when I’m ending one stage of my life. Even if I can never overcome the safe distance I’ve placed between my classmates and me, it won’t be a big deal: I’ll be moving on to college soon. It’s a chance to start over.

I’ve read several trans people’s stories of feeling empty when they “finish” transitioning: when they’re satisfied with their bodies, everyone respects their names and pronouns, and gender ceases to be a huge issue (even for people who consider transitioning to be a lifelong process). I think that by beginning my transition at this point, I might avoid some of that feeling. Since I’m just starting to build my own life, I won’t have to base my whole existence around feeling uncomfortable with myself.

For instance, I like thinking about how society works. If I didn’t have my gender issues at least half figured out, I might center my whole college education around gender, sex and sexuality. And when I sorted out my gender, then what would I have left? What would my aim in life be? I’m still interested in sex and gender identities, but I don’t feel such a tremendous need to study them anymore, now that I’m pretty comfortable with myself. In college, I’ll be able to find other subjects that interest me, too.

It is a little confusing to deal with gender concerns while I’m still dealing with other teen and coming-of-age stuff such as friends, parents, the future, newfound responsibility and independence. But it probably isn’t much easier to transition later on, when one has to deal with work, aging parents, family, and possibly spouses and kids. Now, at least, I’m allowed to make mistakes and redirect my life in accordance to my personal changes. People of all ages deserve to do this, but unfortunately older folks who do this might be frowned upon.

Maybe I’m just saying all of this because I don’t know much about Life and Growing Up. I tend to think of college as a tumultuous time of rapid growth, change and discovery; it’s hard for me to imagine feeling empty during those years. But I’m sure that it depends on the person. Many trans people probably never feel a post-transition vacuity, and many people –trans and no– experience emptiness for lots of different reasons.

How did you feel after going through your gender process? Did you feel empty? Confused? Relieved? (Thanks to everyone who shared tips and stories about watching Boys Don’t Cry.)

I just realized that Boys Don’t Cry is going to be on TV in an hour. It might be the scariest movie I’ll ever see, but I want to try and watch it. I’ve made a promise to myself: I’m going to stop watching if the film gets too strong. Maybe I should switch off the TV as soon as Brandon is about to get raped. Has anyone seen it? Should I avoid the ending?

Edit: The TV guide was wrong — Boy’s Don’t Cry isn’t showing. I still intend to watch it someday.

I have facial hair. I haven’t been injecting testosterone: it’s just been there for years. I remember being embarrassed about it when I was 13 or 14. I hadn’t seen any media images of women or females with moustaches, so there surely was something wrong with having facial hair (I use “women” and “females” interchangeably because, at that point, I thought they were the same thing). The same went for leg hair, and for a while I was really paranoid about the hair on the back of my hands. I had heard that shaving made things worse –since you can see the thick base of the hair instead of the thin tip– so I tried depilating creams, plucking and wax. Ouch!

Eventually, I realized that there were women with body hair — lots of them. Who would have guessed that media representations of women were far from accurate?! I had been so busy feeling ashamed of myself that I hadn’t realized that some of my female friends had even fuller moustaches than I did. If I hadn’t noticed, maybe no one could notice my hair, either. I relaxed a little, although tried to I keep my facial hair at a minimum until I started identifying as male. That’s when I started shaving.

I thought that shaving didn’t truly stimulate growth, but in the past year I started noticing that my facial hair was more visible. My moustache and sideburns probably look darker due to shaving, but my chin is definitely developing more and more thick hairs — not a full-blown beard, but past the “allowed” female amount. It might be the shaving, it might be hormonal; I only know that it’s there. My body is typically female and it grows facial hair. So why are beards construed as male? No wonder Leslie Feinberg includes (cissexual) women with beards under the gender-variant umbrella: they’re defying the very rules of what female bodies are allowed to do.

I’m trying to tie in my critique of male/female body construction with the fact that I want my body to look more male-typical: I want the narrow hips, the beard, the low voice. Those seem like opposite notions — my desire to transition physically appears to reinforce the construction of a male, masculine, man’s body.

I think the connection lies within the idea of freedom: people should be allowed to do whatever they want with their bodies, no matter if they don’t fit into traditional notions of what a “normal” body looks like. And I should do whatever I want with my body, even if that brings my body closer to the standards of what men’s bodies look like — after all, if I withheld my deep desire of transition in order to “free the gender/sex system”, how could I be freeing myself? I’d just be creating a new set of standards that limit my liberty.

I know that my facial hair doesn’t make me any more of a man. I could identify as a woman and still embrace it. But it’s something I enjoy, so I’m going to go ahead and embrace it. As a person.

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PS: your might be interested in Female Faces: How facial hair influences women’s everyday experiences, a site created by a woman who sports a goatee. It includes a thesis on the subject, resources and a message board. “Prepare to enter a world where women’s beauty is not defined, it’s simply embraced.“

“Girl meets Girl. Girl becomes Boy. Girl and Boy become a band. Meet COYOTE GRACE.”

I just found out about the band Coyote Grace (hat tip) — I loved the song “A Guy Named Joe”.  A lot of their lyrics are about being trans: isn’t that neat? Music can express universal emotions, but there are certain experiences that most people just don’t have. It’s nice to see one’s life reflected in a song every once in a while:

I am a self-made man, born with my two hands
I been waiting for so long to finally stand
But I have no history, one day I just came to be
I barely know who I am
–Ghost Boy

(lyrics for A Guy Named Joe)

I also liked the words to “Daughterson” — the title announces great things, and the first stanza is the perfect trans kid’s rant:

My haircut don’t look right, my clothes don’t fit just right,
them boy clothes are too big and the girls’ too tight.
My feet, they look too small, and I ain’t very tall,
I fight with my mom every time I go to the mall.

I couldn’t find the lyrics anywhere, so I transcribed them (although there were a few lines I couldn’t catch). The video and transcription, after the jump.

Daughterson by Coyote Grace

My haircut don’t look right, my clothes don’t fit just right,
them boy clothes are too big and the girls’ too tight.
My feet, they look too small, and I ain’t very tall,
I fight with my mom every time I go to the mall.

If I can’t be your daughterson, I ain’t nothing at all.

….
Kids won’t leave me and my queenie brother alone.
I don’t get picked to be on teams, oh I am scrappy and I’m mean,
Those girls seem to look right through me.

My body has betrayed me, my life is so upsetting.
If I had only known about those girls, they saw me all right.

But I’m obviously a man, but I sit down on the can,
I get shots on the leg by my lady’s loving hand.
I got scars across my chest, Dr Brownstein is the best,
Ain’t no one can make me wear a dress.

Well, just because I’ve done this doesn’t mean you’ve got to do this too.
You don’t know what it’s like, now do you?
Well, I think there’s a few of you that do.

You say I’m going to hell, well I’ve been down that well,
And God is a big boy, he can judge people himself.
“Don’t mess with God’s design”, well, where do you draw the line?
How ‘bout botox, fat pills, warfare, deforestation, laser hair removal, the death penalty…

Well, I think I’m doing fine.
Well, you’re so scared of everything…
And who are you to force me to believe what you think Jesus meant?

I grew up under blue skies; the pain has made me wise.
My body is my home, I won’t ever be alone,
I’ve found my place behind this microphone.
Well, I have chose my consequence, I have chosen my name.

And I can be your daughterson, ’cause they’re one and the same.

I haven’t been posting lately because I’ve been feeling pretty down. School has been awful: my classmates haven’t understood that I need to be called by my new name. This week was the worst — on Wednesday, the very second I stepped foot in the school building, I felt tears of frustration welling in my eyes. I spent the whole day trying not to cry, and since then I’ve constantly felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Even the librarians have learned my (legal) name, so I’ve lost my favorite hiding place. Today was much better, though — it’s only going to school that makes me feel so bad.

But this could be a good thing. I’ve reached a point where going to school feels so bad that something has to give. I know I’m not going to ditch school –the school year finishes in only three months– and I know I’m not going to spontaneously combust. That only leaves one option: my classmates have to start using my new name and pronouns. So, I have to convince them to do that somehow.

I think I’ll need to enlist one of my best friend’s help to achieve this. I hope I haven’t lost her friendship yet — I’m sorry to say I’ve been kind of hostile to everyone recently. Feeling like your identity is being constantly ignored doesn’t help to put a smile on your face. And I hope I can explain my emotions well — I tried to tell her, once, how I felt about my name, and did an awful job. I might have said the opposite of what I really meant — I can be that bad at explaining things out loud. Writing is easier because there’s less pressure and you have a chance to reorganize your ideas. Maybe I should stick to writing letters when it comes to clarifying trans stuff.

This could be a huge chance for learning how to stand up for myself. I could regain some of my old friends. I didn’t lose any friendships because of coming out, but several people simply couldn’t get their names/pronouns right, and I couldn’t bear to be constantly surrounded by people who ignored my identity — so I eventually phased them out of my life. Maybe, if I had clearly stated my position, I could have saved my friends.

All in all, I could get a lot out of this lousy situation. I included a description of my negative feelings in this post because I want to remember how bad it feels to be called by the wrong name. I know that, when the going gets rough, I tend to wonder why I’m transitioning at all — wouldn’t it be easier to be a butch woman? At those times, I need to remember why I started to change my name and pronouns, why it would not be easier to “just be a woman”. If I don’t remember, I might enter a loop where I start transitioning, reach a roadblock, go back to “female”, feel awful, move towards “male”, etc.

Plus, I’ve found some really awesome laws which should protect my gender identity at school. More on that later. I’d like to start posting some actual, thoughtful content again — I’ve sure been thinking a lot.

A month ago, I posted about a “photo project on transphobic and gender-baiting questions”. The photographer just published a bunch of images online (hat tip to en|gender):

The subjects, self-identified people of transgender and transsexual experience, hold signs depicting questions that each has had posed to them personally– some by strangers, others by loved ones, friends, or colleagues. Presented on white wooden boards, the questions are turned on the viewer, shifting the dynamics under which they were originally asked, and prompting the viewer to cast a reflective, self-critical eye upon him or herself, revealing how invasive this frame of reference can be.

Several of the questions really resonated with me. “Who will want to date you?” “Are you sure this is right for you?” And the pictures are absolutely beautiful. Enjoy.