A Few Thoughts

I went north to spend a few days with Lumi. We went out quite a lot “dressed”; me in femme-dress, Lumi in boi-mode. We went to the post office, ate in restaurants, shopped in local quirky stores and big chains. We got a lot of double takes, and in one case got the “evil eye” from an old man. I did find that my normal hyper-vigilance ratcheted up a few notches to the worrying about “who’s going to come running to beat me up” level. I hate to admit it, but I was feeding into stereotypes, being particularly wary of construction workers and large men. I also had some fear that we would be refused service, but no; in fact all the shopkeepers and restaurant staff we’re as cordial to us as they were to anyone else. Other than that there was ease and comfort and naturalness to being dressed femme. I’m just me and this is how I dress.

In a conversation about some “survivor guilt” (waiting to come out late in life when I’m relatively stable and knowing I’ve avoided a lot of suffering that my fellow gender transgressors suffered), Lumi reflected on the difference in reaction to transwomen based on age. Zie said something about the threat to manhood and sexuality that a young transwoman has on cissexist men is stronger than the threat an older transwoman would have. I thought later that this could be related to what I’ve read about older women’s invisibility, going off the radar after a certain age. Some idea is forming about this but it hasn’t developed yet.

The day after I got home I was with a group of friends and acquaintances and the subject came around to what boys are like. Some of my friends were new moms and one in particular was talking about a book promoting the currently popular idea that our education and socialization no longer lets boys be boys. There isn’t enough aggression allowed in the classroom and playground these days. The book apparently suggested that parents play rough with boys. Both mothers agreed that their sons responded well to jumping and being tossed about. Then it was suggested that one child’s interest in trucks and big machines was because he was a boy. A non-mom told a story about a recent encounter with a young boy who giggled upon seeing her cleavage. She then jumped to the conclusion that the child was a “guy” already. This angered me. In trying to express my anger to some trusted friends I found myself confused…

You see, when I was in denial about being a transwoman, I used to take the position that there were NO inherent gender traits. I was all nurture and no nature in my philosophy. A factor in my taking this stance was, no doubt, due to the fact that very few traditionally male gender traits were part of my experience, and many traditionally female ones were. In a way, I suppose, I was claiming there was no such thing as gender at all. The social construct was a lie. Coming out of denial, however put a different light on this. I found that I wanted to claim the female-gendered traits as my own, as some kind of proof of my true nature; though I couldn’t say my sense of being a woman comes from these traits. I am still uncomfortable with assigning traits to a specific gender. Certainly not everyone who has untraditional gender traits is trans. No doubt there is some balance between nature and nurture, but what is it? Lumi asked me if I had read Serano's “Whipping Girl”. Zie suggested I read it with the caveat that zie didn’t agree with everything the book said. I picked it up today and will report back when I’m done reading it.