I mean it though, 100%. I don’t even know where to begin with this one. I usually am able to hide under a layer of impersonality in my articles. I’m talking about a situation that happened somewhere else, or campaigning for some political goal where I can assume the voice of the impassioned revolutionary or social justice warrior without much fear of having to point the mirror at myself. Ask me to write an article on some situation overseas with 5 million different factions and factors? No biggie; I’ve already Vox-ified it for you into a digestible summary no longer than our tiny fried little attention spans can handle. But ask me how my day went? No clue.
I have this irrational fear of writing about myself, that I will say “the wrong thing.” So trying to write about an aspect of myself that is currently at the forefront of the current wave of culture wars? Big ask, to put it lightly. But it is something I think needs to be said… I simply can’t figure out how to say it. I don’t know comprehensively what being transfem “means," so rather I will simply say some things that being transfem is:
I have this irrational fear of writing about myself, that I will say “the wrong thing.” So trying to write about an aspect of myself that is currently at the forefront of the current wave of culture wars? Big ask, to put it lightly. But it is something I think needs to be said… I simply can’t figure out how to say it. I don’t know comprehensively what being transfem “means," so rather I will simply say some things that being transfem is:
1) Being transfem is scary. Very scary. There are plenty of places where fear arises, of course. One of these is as simple as the wardrobe. Do I wear a dress in public? The problem is that trans women do not have the level of “disguise” most other people have when presenting in the way they want. All people look “normal” in typically masculine clothing by societal standards, but only AFABs (assigned female at birth) are allowed to wear feminine clothing. This is what puts trans women at a unique risk, and also why we have such an obsession with “passing”.
So when people (within or outside of the community) say that “passing doesn’t matter, you are beautiful just how you are!” It's a bit frustrating. Sure, passing SHOULDN’T matter, but a lot of the time we aren’t asking this question as one of self-esteem, but as one of safety. If I walk into a conservative area where I am not welcome, what are the odds of my safety? This can prove vital in many situations. I’ve had the pleasure of being told that I “pass”, but in reality, I know this only applies when I put my hair in a very specific way over my shoulder and I wear a specific dress with a specific lip gloss and mascara. The right clothing can make a huge difference, but it can’t protect you from everything. People will still give us weird looks, or squint at the difference between our appearance and voice. And of course, this is far from the only fear.
So when people (within or outside of the community) say that “passing doesn’t matter, you are beautiful just how you are!” It's a bit frustrating. Sure, passing SHOULDN’T matter, but a lot of the time we aren’t asking this question as one of self-esteem, but as one of safety. If I walk into a conservative area where I am not welcome, what are the odds of my safety? This can prove vital in many situations. I’ve had the pleasure of being told that I “pass”, but in reality, I know this only applies when I put my hair in a very specific way over my shoulder and I wear a specific dress with a specific lip gloss and mascara. The right clothing can make a huge difference, but it can’t protect you from everything. People will still give us weird looks, or squint at the difference between our appearance and voice. And of course, this is far from the only fear.
I remember the night of November 5th, into the early morning of the 6th. I remember staying up until three in the morning, finally to see the announcement that Trump had won Pennsylvania (and thus the election), and then promptly passing out. What I remember even more vividly, though, was that morning after. It felt eerily like a hangover. I was dizzy, disoriented, and dreadful, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to puke or cry or do both at the same time. Everyone knew what he had promised: to 'stop transgender lunacy'. This, in effect, meant attempting to erase us; of course, the prospect was terrifying. The fear isn’t limited to myself, either: my mom’s nervous breakdowns are never unnoticed, her tears filling solely out of worry. As much as I like to wear the dress of never taking anything too seriously, I can’t say I don’t share the worry as well.
2) Being transfem is fun, really fun. Because of all of the external circumstances that make being transfem so difficult, they also conversely make forming friendships incredibly easy. Because we are so few and so hidden, meeting another one of us is like reuniting with an old friend. As funny as I find the “transfem communication (meowing)” memes funny, there’s an element of truth to it; we really are on the same wavelength, and it means that we have a strong sense of community where we can effectively support each other. These friendships allow us to keep going, knowing that we have someone out there rooting for us even if the whole rest of the world has gone to shit.
3) Being transfem is exhausting. SO exhausting. It’s exhausting to explain to people my name, my pronouns, why I identify the way I am. Do you take hormones? Do you ever plan to have surgery? Top surgery or bottom surgery? Does body hair make you dysphoric? I understand people’s curiosity, but I also think people need to learn when to ask these questions, rather than berating me with them all the time. It’s annoying to have to explain to a friend or relative what “code-switching” is and why they shouldn’t correct this family member about my name or pronouns because I willingly present differently to different people to avoid uncomfortable situations.
It’s also annoying to remind people that the words “trans woman” or “transfem” exist rather than the thousand word rambling monstrosity of “was a he but now actually identifies as like um… y’know.. a she”. Sometimes I don’t understand why it is so difficult to understand for some people, but I also know that many people are trying their best. Still, trying to judge people solely based on their intention and not on their horrendous execution is so very exhausting, almost exhausting as having to explain myself over and over and over and over…
It’s also annoying to remind people that the words “trans woman” or “transfem” exist rather than the thousand word rambling monstrosity of “was a he but now actually identifies as like um… y’know.. a she”. Sometimes I don’t understand why it is so difficult to understand for some people, but I also know that many people are trying their best. Still, trying to judge people solely based on their intention and not on their horrendous execution is so very exhausting, almost exhausting as having to explain myself over and over and over and over…
4) Being transfem is euphoric. Amazingly euphoric. Passing in public, wearing makeup for the first time, wearing a skirt for the first time, all of it. It’s not even the obvious stuff; it may be as simple as going out with friends, which isn’t an inherently feminine thing… but for whatever reason, going to a specific concert gives you that sense of gender euphoria. Even if it's only restricted to a few spaces, being able to be who you are unburdened and unhidden feels otherworldly. It’s a feeling impossible to put into words, but an unrelentingly sweet to experience. It’s something you just know when you feel it. And it’s awesome.
I’m not quite sure what I intended to achieve in this piece. In short, being transfem is a lot of things. And yes, I know I did make the negative paragraphs longer than the positive ones; and maybe that’s telling. But maybe it’s because the negative ones are rooted in very concrete societal and personal issues that warrant a lot of words to describe them; we ramble about things we don’t like for a reason. But when we are enjoying ourselves, we shut up and let ourselves have fun.
And that is what is important; we can have fun. Queer people in general have been too long displayed in the media as being sad and helpless, victims but never activists. And while this isn’t to say that societal change isn’t needed (it absolutely is, more now than ever!), it also means that we have lives that are worth saving. We aren’t meant to be miserable, which is why we need to work towards a future where we aren’t.
And that is what is important; we can have fun. Queer people in general have been too long displayed in the media as being sad and helpless, victims but never activists. And while this isn’t to say that societal change isn’t needed (it absolutely is, more now than ever!), it also means that we have lives that are worth saving. We aren’t meant to be miserable, which is why we need to work towards a future where we aren’t.
Sonja Wilberding |
