There's a genre of essays that you write when you are deeply angry or frustrated about something. They're basically bullet points, maybe with some invective and maybe not. I always thought that they were intended as some kind of dialectic, to convince other people. Now, I realise that they're not. They're just designed to get shit off your chest, and alright, fine. Cool.

So, anyway, I'm transgendered. That felt exceptionally liberating to write. Sometimes, people hide these things, because for some reason it's a black mark against you. But then, I got to thinking, and I realised that if I put it out there, well, then that deprives whatever power people might have, or find, in "outing" me, so, again, fine; cool. I'm trans, and I'm pissed off because of that.

There are some things I'm not pissed off about.

For instance, I was thinking about it, and I don't really mind being the butt of jokes. There's a part of Arrested Development where Lindsay Bluth is hitting on her daughter's high school crush, and her daughter tells said crush that her mother is actually a man and "the worst part is, he thinks he's passing." I was going over this, trying to figure out if there's some visceral reaction, and no, not really. Partly because it's just a joke, partly because as an introverted geek I have cultivated a thick skin, and partly because I would kill to look like Portia de Rossi. So I'm not pissed about that.

I'm also not pissed about the fact that most people respond, at best, with a kind of bemusement. At least, I'm not really pissed at them. I can appreciate that it's kind of confusing. They are thinking, "huh. What pronoun should I use?" "How should I talk about them with other people?" "Isn't it weird that they expect to be treated like a woman when they don't look like one?" "What bathroom do they use?" For this, all I can say is:



I like trans people, because they tend to be more understanding. They don't expect you to behave in a certain way; they don't consider you a traitor against some nebulous concept of "trans" for not following a preordained path and set of characteristics. I wouldn't have to transition if I didn't want to, and I can ask questions without feeling like I'm, to pun slightly, transgressing.

So what don't I like? What am I pissed about?

I'm pissed that people are so insistent that I be put into a box. What's especially beautiful is that not only am I de facto supposed to be in the "male" box, if I don't want to be in the male box there's no real in-between. Even if people are willing to accept the existence of transwomen as a concept, I have to go all the way. Apparently I cannot legitimately claim ownership of this term until I am living full-time as a woman and look, well, if not like Portia than at least like a drag queen. Hot fucking damn. Unfortunately that isn't really an option for me at the moment. I'm taking things step-by-step, see?

I'm pissed that this is even an issue. I'm pissed that we have decided to ingrain gender roles so tightly that people can be murdered for crossing between them. I'm pissed that even today, in the twenty-first fucking century, people treat this as a natural law. It's not. People who exist out of the heteronormative, one-man-one-woman Adam-and-Eve, not-Adam-and-Steve regime are a biological fact. And you know what having men and women gets us, beyond irrational stereotypes and discrimination? It gets us kids. That's it. Which, it's great if you want that—I'm not even being sarcastic, it is fucking great for you. It's fucking awesome if you want to be in a heterosexual monogamous relationship and do whatever you want. I can say this, because I genuinely believe it, but I can also say that if our culturally-constructed rigid male-female boundaries went away tomorrow, the human race wouldn't go extinct. Not even close. Because there are more of you than there are of me. Don't worry. Our future's safe.

I'm irrationally pissed that people's first reaction is so frequently one of shock or disbelief. What? Really? Let's break it down, people. You've built a series of cultural stereotypes based on a biological premise (I took health class, don't worry, I'm familiar with the difference between masculine and feminine genitalia). I'm saying that I don't buy it. I don't like those rules. Why would I? All they do is put people in boxes, and completely useless boxes at that. This is like reacting in shock and disbelief when a guy says he wants to be a housekeeper, or a girl says she wants to grow up to be a cowboy. I'm not saying you should be gung-ho, just that "are you sure about that?" is an answer that I understand, but pisses me off. Yes, I'm sure. Yes, the girl who wants to be an astronaut or the president of the United States or the president of all the astronauts is sure.

The combination of the two is that I'm pissed that it is so frequently more of a Big Deal for other people than it is for me. I don't think about being trans constantly any more than I think about having ten toes constantly. It's just a Thing that Is. I don't dwell on it, generally. I'm dwelling now because the fact that it is a Big Deal for so many people fucks me over royally. That's why...

I'm also pissed that I have no future. Seriously. You know what's ahead of me? Jumping through the hoops of the psychiatric system in order to get somebody with a doctoral degree to confirm that, yup, I'm trans, and then to spend some time "living as a woman" (whatever the fuck that means. Is this like one of those continuing ed colleges where I can get "real-life credits"? Like, if I watch some Hugh Grant movies and have a good cry, can I knock a couple of days off? Can I CLEP that one?). Then I get to be on hormones, which I'm sure has no adverse health effects whatsoever, and then if I decide to I get to spend tens of thousands of dollars on surgery to... not be accepted, really. To face people who will obstinately continue to refer to me as "he," people who think that being trans is the first thing I should confess to someone, people who will look at me askance. That's it. That's what I get.

So it's like, you know, if you believe in a god, that's cool. Then whatever god you believe in fucked me over, and I'd like to think I'm entitled to feel a little bit bitter about that. If you don't believe in a god, then this is a biological impediment backed with cultural conditioning that will probably never go away, ever. Ever. If I wanted to dwell on it, that's what I'd have to think about every goddamned morning: "you are going to be unhappy with your body, or you are going to be a social pariah. Pick one! :3"

I'm pissed that "gender" has become a politically correct word for "sex," because people don't want to say sex when that's what they mean. I'm irritated that this puts me in the position of having to be misleading no matter what I answer, because people expect that if I check a box marked "female" then even though nobody talks with their vagina that should still be an option on the table. But if I check "male" then I am not accurately representing my existence any more than I would be if I told them that my race was Venusian.

Also, I'm pissed that Arrested Development got such shabby treatment from Fox, now that I think about it.

I'm pissed that any choice I make—not choosing to "become trans," nobody chooses that (and why the fuck would I?), but literally choosing to acknowledge what is already true will cost me friends and family. Why? I'm not sure. It would seem to me that the only reason to care so deeply about this is if you have a vested interest in making me unhappy or if my gender is supercritical to you, but why would it be? Do you want to have sex with me? I'm flattered, really, but... no.

Nobody really ever asks what this is like, but here, I'll tell you: on a good day, being a guy is like having an appendix. You don't really think about it; it's just a fact of life that you can deal with by ignoring. On a bad day, being a guy is like having an ingrown toenail, forever. Having an ingrown toenail, where every step reminds you that there is something fundamentally wrong with you, a nontrivial percentage of people can't possibly understand why you'd want to do something about the toenail, and numerous people will persist in describing you as having an ingrown toenail even if you were to do something about it, as though ingrown toenails were something intrinsically awesome.

(also, they're natural. And as we all know, being as nature intended is what you want to do first and foremost. That's why we don't treat infectious diseases. It's also why we dance a happy jig when women die in childbirth. You go, nature!)

I firmly believe that there will come a day, some cyberpunk future when we just plug into some kind of augmented reality, a world of bits and avatars. I believe this because it makes logical sense. My boss spends a lot of time traveling; why the hell would he actually want to get on a sixteen-hour flight for a meeting in Singapore if he could just come down to the office, plug into the matrix, and knock off at 6 to go for a drink in San Francisco? So I believe that this is going to happen, a Stephensonian metaverse of sorts.

I cannot fucking wait for this.

This puzzles some people, who believe that nothing compares to face-to-face interaction. To hell with that noise, and all that jazz about how nice the real world is. For me, the "real world" is fundamentally fake, an irritating artifice. It essentially requires pretending to be something I am not—even pretending to be happy about being something that I am not—twenty-four goddamned hours a day, seven days a week. It's like being in deep cover with the CIA, except that I don't get anything out of it. At all. I'm supposed to be happy about that?

No. The flipside of the New Yorker caption, that on the Internet nobody knows that you're a dog, is that on the Internet nobody expects you to pretend to be something that you're not. For me, I guess, this creates the paradox that a virtual—but truthful—existence is preferable to a real existence that requires the construction of a mask.

Which is pretty bleak, when you think about it. But that's life, I guess.

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Brett N. 4.11.2010 - 9h19

Dear Alex, I have been following your stories, Random Dork Musings, and websites on and off regularly. By human nature I have created a image of the person behind the name, "Alex" derived from the contents of your analytical posts, thoughtful musings, borderline rants, and enjoyable creations. It is an image of someone I respect and slightly cherish . After reading this post nearly nothing changed. I still respect, follow, and believe in the person I know as Alex, AKA: Klisoura. While it maybe true that "life fucked you over", can you do a lonely fan a favor? Realize that no matter how many people may side with disdain there is and always will be a few who side with you. ~With Respect Brett N.

Comrade Alex 4.11.2010 - 10h16

I'd like to do two things, here. The first is that I'd like to thank you for that—it means a lot. I lead a relatively public life, in that it's possible to find out nearly everything about me if you try, and so there's always the ability for one to open one's self up to criticism. It comes with the territory—but I am deeply appreciative of your words. Obviously, I know that it's not me against the world. That gets to my second point, which is that I should note that I wrote the above missive in a fit of pique. I was somewhat... despondent, we'll say, and I like to think—or hope, at least—that I've gotten past it, at least a little bit, in the intervening weeks. In large part it's because I've realised what you've said, and this realisation has given me some clarity. Nearly everything in life is made possible, or at least substantially easier, with the camaraderie and companionship of friends. I'm not normally so bitter; I'm not so bitter now. Life is good, and where life is not good one can still perceive the path towards which it might become so. I'm ok with that. But mostly: thank you. I hope your day's as well as you've made mine. +ca

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