To Be "Real"

Well, I try my best to be just like I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them.
                                  -Bob Dylan, "Maggie's Farm"

From my earliest days in the transgender community, I have occasionally encountered people--always male-to-female transsexuals who are living as women full-time--who have regarded anyone who is not on their path with condescension and even scorn.  To be more specific, they regard people like me--who are not actively in transition to full-time womanhood, and/or who can only outwardly manifest their inner woman part-time--are just wannabes and not real transgender people.  Some even state that those who are not full-time have no right to call themselves transgender.

I have to admit, this attitude really raises my hackles--so much so, in fact, that I am having to try very hard to make this blog entry something other than a string of profanities.  Yes, it usually takes a great deal of struggle, pain, and loss to transition.  Kudos to those who make it through.  But transition is not everyone's path.  Some simply don't need to.  They have found another way to be at peace with their gender identity.  Others can't, because of life circumstances and obligations.  Some, like me, are uncertain if transition to full-time is the answer; I personally feel very conflicted and am feeling my way through one day at a time.  I consider all of the above to be transgender people; we all feel some discomfort with our assigned gender or some pull away from that gender.

I was once informed by a transwoman on a Unitarian Universalist LGBT mailing list that I was either a woman or a man--that if I didn't go full-time and have genital reassignment surgery, then I was only a man who was pretending to be transgender.  (Oh, and that bisexuals are only gays in denial.)  Very black-and-white thinking and atypical for UUs.  Folks, life is not black-and-white--it just isn't.  The two conventional genders in our culture, man and woman, are generalizations and oversimplifications of a more complex reality.  Quite a few of us just don't fit--to me, that's the definition of transgender.  I'm a person in that gray area, and I will not be erased or minimized because I don't fit into a neat little box, or walk a particular path.  My feelings are just as real, just as valid, as anyone else's.  Life is not a contest, and there is no one correct way to get through it.  My wish is that those who wish to denigrate those who are different from them find a way to cultivate a little wisdom and a lot more empathy.

Remembrances of Nerdiness Past

Reading this article about nerds and misogyny started my memory a-stirring.  You see, I was a teenage nerd.  Well, in truth, I'm still a nerd, but anyway...I was a shy, introverted, intelligent guy; skinny, small, wore glasses, read a lot, a little socially backward--pretty much your textbook case.  As mentioned in previous entries, I also hated myself because I liked to dress as a girl, tended toward femininity, and identified to some extent with girls my age.  I was depressed a lot, though I tried not to show it, and I was always in fear that someone would discover my secret.

Despite that, I actually had quite a few friends, both male and female.  I was the guy that girls loved to talk to but were never attracted to.  All my male and female friends were busily dating and doing all the things that teenagers do--but not me.  As I grew older, I increasingly felt isolated, freakish, and resentful.  My self-loathing grew, and I erected an emotional wall around my heart.  I resented men for being able to attract women, and I resented women for not being attracted to me.  I'm afraid I veered at times into misogyny, which was probably fueled by the hatred I felt for my own feminine tendencies.

Eventually, I learned that there were others like me and started to accept my transgender nature.  At last, one cold January Friday night, I attended my first transgender support group meeting.  For the first time, I revealed myself as Wendy to other people, and was accepted.

The next day, I was walking on air.  I felt so free, so courageous, so happy, so confident--perhaps for the first time in my life.  I attended a planning meeting for my high school reunion and noticed that one of the women there seemed very interested in me--she was hanging on my every word, laughing at my jokes; in short, she seemed attracted to me.  It was a new experience, and a harbinger of the ensuing months.  I attended more support group meetings, allowing myself to more fully explore and accept my feminine aspect.  I wasn't fully free of bouts of depression, but my spirits began to lift and my self-loathing receded into the background.  And like magic, later that year I managed to meet and start a romantic relationship with a woman, really for the first time.

It may seem trite, but I really believe you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you.  Not love yourself in a narcissistic sense, but accept who you truly are--warts and all.  The problem was not other people; it was me.  Now, I'm still a nerd, but a nerd who, through much effort and painful growth, has found love.