Getting repeatedly misgendered, even if somehow innocently, at this stage of transition is both a real kick in the teeth, and a nasty reality check.
Misgendering is the most common microaggression I encounter as a woman who happens to also be a transgender person. Some practice deliberate misgendering, a not-so-micro bit of aggression. Others try to some extent to get my gender right, but when distracted, not concentrating on their words, will misgender me, as they internally are thinking of me as something other than my correct gender.
Some people who know of my past are stuck on thinking of me as a man in a dress. I was never a man, although I could fake it well enough to pass after a few decades of work. The world provides some hellish incentives to fake it well and master suppressing ourselves.
Faking it so long is emotionally and psychologically damaging, of course. I’m healing slowly from that. It has taken me a very long time to accept myself and move forward with dropping the disguise and being my authentic self.
When one of us is misgendered, it is a hammer blow, telling us we are failures, not working hard enough, and condemned to this living hell of being seen as something we are not.
To one of us, that casual “oops” moment has an impact far greater than the intent.
And no, the “fix” is not for me to “man up” or “grow a pair”. That is not me.
All I can do is work even harder at tracking down the last vestiges of “him” and ripping them out, while remaining true to myself and not becoming a caricature. Others, on the other hand, can excuse callous behavior with a casual “oops” and a hand wave, and continue being casually offensive.
No big deal, right? “Sorry if I invalidated your identity, no biggie, I’ll try to not do it again in the next few minutes.” While thinking “Damn, what does he want? We put up with him wearing a dress, and didn’t use any of those offensive names for him. We are doing everything possible!”
See, this isn’t really being accepting. First, I am not and never was a man. Yes, this body had some male characteristics, but that didn’t match at all well with what was in my brain, where the primitive bits in the brain-body interface grew to run a female body. I’m a woman who was stuck with a male shell.
I tried my best to get along in that but the distress from the mismatch became too much. Medically necessary treatments are bringing my body in line with the control systems in my brain.
Second, I am now legally and medically a woman. My anatomy is typical of a woman post-hysterectomy with cervical closure. My blood chemistry is that of a post-menopausal woman on long term hormone replacement therapy. My Kaiser card says “Gender: F”. My birth certificate says “Female”. My passport says “Female”. Even the mighty DMV says “SEX F”.
I have gone to a great deal of trouble to comply with this culture’s demands. With all due respect, what is wrong with you who casually call me a man?
Third, the issue of male privilege is something that comes up particularly in women’s spaces.
When I was faking being a man, I had a passing acquaintance with male privilege. I was at the bottom of the pecking order as a wimpy effeminate introvert. I had to constantly be on guard lest I be caught out as a femme mind in that body, as the retribution would be swift and violent.
I tried to leave the assumption of my minimal male privilege behind as I transitioned to living as my authentic self. I do realize that I had a different experience than natal women growing up, but I do know what it is to be assaulted, harassed based on perceived sexuality, and have experienced “victim blaming” and “boys will be boys” (not me, my attackers) first hand.
I am me. I am a woman. My path to womanhood is more complex than most, but I am a woman.
Please don’t casually negate my identity. Please, make the tiniest effort to recognize me.
Thank you.
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