Trigger warning: Transphobia and transmisogyny
As I sit on my bed after a day’s work, I stare blankly into this fake piece of paper on my computer screen. How in the hell do I invite people into finding my identity, my reality, and myself in one article? And how do I do it without sounding preachy, condescending, or confusing? Well, here it goes.
My queer and trans journey was not typical. Sure, I had fantasies as a young kid of learning how to use an Easy Bake oven and sometimes playing with my sister’s Barbies, but I loved my three-wheeler and playing for hours at a time with Lego’s. After trying out all the sports my parents could think of, I found myself having fun performing jazz and musical theatre. At first, I tried so hard to fit in with the popular kids in middle and high school, but always resigned myself to a very few close male friends who liked being weird and listening to stuff like Frank Zappa.
I grew out a beard, wore flare jeans, aviator sunglasses, and went to one of the hippiest public universities in North Carolina (where I grew up during my teen years). I was pretty happy being a dude, a quirky, straight one at that, until college.
After hooking up with a boy, my first roommate in the dorms, I found that I had always been into cute, skinny, middle-of-the-road, not-too-masculine-or-feminine guys. My first big boycrush was Julian Casablancas of the Strokes. Hubba, hubba!
Leading an anti-war protest on campus
I became politically conscious and active in progressive, grassroots movements. I organized against the Iraq war, identified as a socialist and feminist, and strove to be a good ally to women, LGBTQ folks, and people of color. I questioned my ideas, my goal of becoming a history professor, my desires, my sexuality, and started playing more with gender.
Then I found myself turning from bisexual, to pansexual, and finally to the label-as-an-anti-label: queer. I was still strongly attracted to cisgender¹ women, but was fervent about making my orientation known to others. My girlfriend and I would go out to bars and hit on other people as a polyamorous couple, sometimes of our genders, but really with whomever we felt attracted to. I then found sex-positive feminism and queer porn, and it finally shattered my old binary ideas of sex, gender, and orientation.
See, ever since one of my friends snuck over porn to my house in fifth grade and I saw a “chicks with dicks” ad, I thought trans women were ultra-feminine, fake, silicone-implanted she-male’s. I had really messed up ideas about who they were and what they did. It’s plain to see that so many other Americans still have those same views—just look at popular movies and TV shows.
It was only when I dated my first boyfriend (all others had been hook-ups), when I became so passionate with transgenderism. He is a trans guy, and we are still close friends—in fact I would call him my chosen brother. It blew my mind to be so attracted to a gender rebel, someone who reclaimed his body from his assigned birth. I was so gay for him. (Aw, shoot. I still am!)
Drew Deveaux, trans woman and queer porn star
As I became more and more exposed to positive representations of queer bodies and orientations, they sunk to the deepest level of my core. I saw beautiful transfeminine bodies online, in radical feminist pornography by Tobi Hill-Meyer and Courtney Trouble, and I said to myself, this is what I’ve always felt. I can be futch, soft butch, a little femme here and there, and that’s me. And I don’t need to prove that I’m this or that to anyone. I will make a beautiful woman and a beautiful dyke.
But now, I come to new problems and unwanted “privileges” of asserting myself as a queer trans dyke. From different spaces I inhabit, some safe, others not so safe, and most in between, it’s proved a difficult challenge.
At my workplace, I presented as male² when I started my job in 2009, and have transitioned through hormone replacement therapy for the past nine months, still at the same job. I know old habits die hard, but treating someone like their womanhood doesn’t exist is really shitty, and I have to go through it almost every day there.
Now, I have some cool managers, a couple cool co-workers, and several people who may or may not know about my transgender status. Or maybe they’ve all seen my chest grow? Whatever. The point is, I still suffer from trans invisibility at work, because I wear t-shirts, no bra (usually), jeans, hardly any make-up, and generally just act like my weird, semi-butchy self. This is my unwanted “male” privilege.
This is what I mostly look like everyday
My battles for correcting people’s misgendering of me are painful, awkward, and tiring. I stand in front of male workers who make the most sexist and stupid jokes while I feel powerless over the half a dozen or so who laugh along, sometimes including other cisgender women. To them, I’m still one of the guys, and if I complain (as I have before) I’m called “P.C.” and overly sensitive. I’ve come to learn and cope with people’s assumptions by smiling and telling myself that it’s only a job.
Outside I face a different set of challenges. If I don’t look femme enough, I’m not a trans woman—much less a woman. I get weird looks from passerbies. Sometimes I’m read as a “soft dyke” woman, sometimes as an effeminate man. Despite how open I feel my neighborhood is, sometimes I feel in danger walking down the street.
“Passing” is not my problem—or it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be anyone’s problem. It shouldn’t exist. If I’m read as a cisgender woman, I’m subject to sexism and possible violence; if I’m read as a transgender woman, I’m subject to transphobia, sexism, and possible violence.
This is what I look like sometimes when I go out
Too many times trans women will focus on the very minutia of what makes someone look like a cisgender woman. Usually that means dressing femme, or high femme, and deemphasizing any masculine traits: any residual facial hair, jawbones, big shoulders, and so on. And yes, I’ve been through the same routine. It seems every night before I go out to a fun event I ask my partner if she can see my “beard.” Sometimes it’s in earnest, other times it’s just a way to smile about my transgenderness.
But this is not supposed to be a sob story, nor a primer for critical transgender theory. These are simply my own experiences. I would much rather do without pity, especially from my sisters: lesbians, dykes, butches, femmes, and trans women of all shades. We’ve all gone through our aches of queer non-conformity and know there is celebration around the corner.
A special community of queer resisters, of lovers and friends, celebrate me. I go out to queer dance parties and am welcomed, hit on, kissed on, grinded up against to sweaty, sweaty gay music. I come home to a beautiful femme woman who snuggles, eats Doritos, and drinks crappy beer with me. My love.
With resistance comes love, and I am pleased to say my life is a beautiful struggle.
- Cisgender means someone that agrees with their given gender and sex at birth. It is the opposite of transgender.
- It is more correct to say that one “presented as” their assigned at birth gender than to say this or that person was once a man/woman. Transpeople have always been their identified gender. Just because a person was born and coerced into a specific gender that was based on their sex/biological parts, doesn’t mean they’ve always felt that way. Personally, I’ve always felt like a “soft” butch trans woman.
Thanks so much for sharing this story. I’ve worked with the trans community and hear a lot about expectations, rejections and privilege and this sums it up beautifully. Luckily some of us strive to be our genuine selves and force the system to deal with our uniqueness. It all creates progress!
Posted by Danielle Tipping | January 25, 2012, 11:26 amGreat article- it is good to have you on the team- I am looking forward to getting to know you much better
-OO
Posted by LC | January 25, 2012, 11:31 amGreat Article!
Posted by Nina | January 25, 2012, 12:30 pmThanks for sharing your experience, Dee. It’s one people need to hear.
Posted by Stuff Queer People Need To Know | January 25, 2012, 1:04 pmGender nonconforming trans people frequently experience erasure inside and outside our “communities”. Butch trans women and fem trans men face double hurdles of intersectionality where we may not be wanted in trans circles (where we are “not trans enough”), in lesbian or gay circles (where we are “not really” lesbian or gay), or in cis heterosexual circles.
There is an interesting and important and terrible aspect to my own experience as a genderqueer m2f dyke/fag who primarily presents as a soft butch woman. Even though lesbian women experience oppression on the basis of being female and their sexual orientation, I have experienced more leverage in allowing myself too express myself in a more masculine/androcentric way. There is male privilege, and this is masculine privilege. The curious thing is that even in the most progressive circles of queers and radicals, masculinity is still valued over femininity. If I use a more feminine tone of voice, what I say is immediately perceived as dumbed down and frivolous, whereas if I use a more monotone, chest-resonant masculine voice I am taken seriously. I want to fight androcentrism, but how can I honestly say I am doing that when I have to deepen my speaking voice to call people out on being oppressive? It’s tricky.
Posted by blickblocks | January 25, 2012, 1:46 pmDoubleplusgood!
Posted by Black Dahlia Parton | January 25, 2012, 3:04 pmYou are my hero. I’m in the same boat, I Identify as a Genderqueer Trans Dyke and it freaks people out. But I just don’t feel comfortable in ultrafemme like I thought I would. I really want SRS because I hate my genitals, but I really just wanna be a girl who is “one of the guys” and a loving cohort to a pretty femme girl, trans or cis doesn’t matter.
Its a huge plate to fill and eat.
Posted by Maxine Payne | January 25, 2012, 3:25 pmI’m still gay for you too!
So proud o’ my sister for coming out. Excellent article
xo
Posted by Jay Very | January 25, 2012, 3:35 pmThis article resonated hard for me.
I’m a binary identified trans dyke. I’m very masculine in my mannerisms, my social presentation and my choice of activites. My dress is pretty chapstick femme and preppy.
I am consistently misgendered at work my coworkers. I am consistently compared to men in my social life. In trans circles I’m misgendered and judged for not being trans enough and in cis circles my gender identitiy isn’t taken seriously because I’m not femme enough.
Anyway. I feel you. I think I’ll create a butch/masculine trans woman tumblr or something so we can all get down on the man for being so fucking heteronormative and cis-centric.
Posted by TheSummerRobin | January 25, 2012, 11:24 pmDee, THANK YOU for writing. I’ve been around the block a few times, and in 2012, Queer doesn’t mean what it did in 1986… I appreciate your candid style and I hope you will continue writing about your fascinating journey which is not even at the halfway point I think.
And by the way, OMG you are SO queer!! 
I say that with warm mischief, and look forward to your next installment.
Posted by Karen | January 26, 2012, 12:30 amOh and I also wanted to extend a warm welcome to you for joining the LStop. WELCOME!! I know that I think differently than many people in our community, primarily because I see labels as a method of divisiveness for a group that seems to seek building bridges with mainstream … I would like to see a true live-and-let-live society. As much as it was important to have a place to commiserate back in my 20s, at this juncture I feel my orientation and who I sleep with is no one’s biz but mine because it doesn’t define who I am. At the same time, role models are great for our youth. And my conflicts ensue.
Posted by Karen | January 26, 2012, 12:34 amWelcome to the team! Love the article.
Posted by Sam Hamilton | January 26, 2012, 8:49 amVital. Can’t wait to read more! I am so proud of you and the work you do for yr and our community. Yr my hero
Posted by Rosy | January 26, 2012, 11:18 amThx for ur honesty & forthrightness. Tho I dont get 1/2 as much discrimanation as u & other trans people I feel more than a little guilt & invisibility as a “femme” lesbian. I “pass” in the “straight” world & feel guilty. I’ve been asked what % of me likes women. Seriously! In the lesbian world I’m discriminated against for being too femme & thus not “a real lesbian.” Actually had a woman tell me I wasn’t a “real” lesbian becuz I like glitter. (Didn’t know there was a “real” lesbian rule book.) I too hate all the labeling & divisiveness & prefer to be called “queer” if someone feels the need to label me at all. In a perfect world we could all just live & let live. Kudos for your courage to just be you. You are much loved by people you don’t even know. In solidarity…
Posted by E.G. | January 27, 2012, 7:21 pmThanks E.G.!
By the way, here’s one of my favorite videos on trans women and femme cis women and how our paths of oppression are parallel. I hope you enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQu_2hOannU
Posted by Dee | January 28, 2012, 4:20 pmHaving a partner must help a lot, I guess.
Posted by J.A. B. | April 13, 2012, 4:10 pmGreat article.
I currently describe myself as Genderqueer Amazon Femme Trans Dyke, because it is as close as I can come to the reality I feel.
Having been in a Friends With Benefits situation with an Intersex woman friend for a while, I learned that I quite like penises for instance. As long as they are on women. I tolerate mine at the moment, but will probably get renovations in the next year or so.
Posted by Karen | May 17, 2012, 7:24 am