[edit] it's not letting me embed the video preview properly, so click here.  [/edit]

or you can watch the whole video here. (though i have to warn you, the words "FOR REVIEW ONLY" remain printed across the screen for the entire 53 minutes of the film.)

possibly the most disturbing film i have ever been shown.  (aside from kids....)

Something a dear friend wrote, and then read to two of her college classes this semester.  I have permission to share with you.  More importantly, I encourage you to read it.

---

Before I start, there are a few important things for all of you to know.  I am very emotional about what I’m going to be talking about.  I very possibly might cry at some point during this rant, or after it.  I’m a terrible actress, so the emotion that you see, it’s real.  If at any point during my rant, you do not feel comfortable, you are free to leave the room and sit outside until I am done.  However, you should know that should you do that, the message you are sending me is that you are a bigot, and cannot even listen to opposing viewpoints from your own.  I’ve heard all the possible arguments for your opinions, there’s really nothing new you could throw at me.  And honestly I just don’t care.  The type of people who would walk out of this rant are the type of people who I’ve had to listen to my entire life.  This is my chance to talk.  This is my chance to be heard.  At the end of this rant if anybody feels the need to express an opinion or ask me a question they can feel free to do so in front of the class, or later speak to me in private.

Last night before I went to sleep I did one of the most important things in the world to me.  I told somebody incredibly special that I loved them.  I said three very simple and very heartfelt words to my girlfriend.  Yes, for the record, I’m a girl, and I’m dating a girl.  And as okay as I am with myself and who I am, and who I love, that’s still incredibly hard for me to say in such a public forum as this.  Just saying that out loud involves a good deal of trust in you, my peers.

Last week I went to my Philosophy class like I usually do, ready to discuss a book that I enjoy, 1984, by George Orwell. What I wasn’t prepared for was an assault on my very existence.  Most of my classmates either know that I’m a lesbian, or have probably guessed, because for me it isn’t a secret.  The assault that I was so shocked and caught off guard by, was begun by the statement by one of my classmates that the government has to protect society in certain ways, such as the Gay Marriage Bill that was rejected by the New York State Senate recently.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, the New York State Senate recently voted 38 to 24 against passing a bill that would extend marriage rights to same-sex couples.

My instant reaction to this statement was shock.  Of all the directions I could have anticipated that class going, my classmate telling me that gay marriage was against the interests of society was certainly not one of them.  Hardly before I could recover from my immediate shock, another student and then another chimed in their opinions against same-sex marriage, or even gay people in general.  According to several students, those opposed to same-sex marriage have “very good points”, but of course few in the class would admit to being against same-sex marriage themselves.

The emotion that immediately followed that shock was anger.  Extreme anger from pent up frustration, for things I’ve left unsaid, and for the false hopes I’ve felt in the past years.  I literally bit my tongue so hard that it bled.  I held myself in check at that time, because I knew that no argument espoused in anger was going to overturn the beliefs of my peers.  As much as people try to say that being against homosexuality, homosexual acts, or same-sex marriage isn’t personal, I’m sorry, that’s personal.   That is literally as personal as I get. We are talking about some of my best friends.  We are talking about the person I LOVE.  The woman, who I think about as I fall asleep at night.  The woman who puts up with all of my insanities, eccentricities, oddities, and absurdities.  You tell me that my love for her isn’t valid, yes, I get angry.

Since I’ve come to terms with being gay, there have been a lot of things to hope for.  There was opposition to Proposition 8 in California, the opposition to the lesser known Question 1 in Maine, and finally with the proposed bill in New York.  These are things that I have hoped for, sometimes for months or years.  These are causes that I put my heart behind.  These are causes that have failed.  Each loss cuts as deep as the last.  Each singular vote against same-sex marriage or same-sex rights in general is a singular vote too many.  With each new vote, each new decision, I invest my hope. It’s extremely hard to have your hopes crushed over and over again.  It’s disheartening, and honestly I do give up hope sometimes.

The emotions that began to mix with the anger soon became guilt and shame.  Shame that I didn’t just stand up in front of that class, stand up for myself and for other people like me.  I sacrificed my voice in effort to not make a stir.  I’m tired of not making a fuss, of saying it’s okay when really, it’s not.  No, I do not feel okay about any of this.  No, I won’t be silent about it anymore.  For me, being silent means I might as well be in the closet.  I’m not saying that every individual who is gay needs to be out and vocal.  I’m saying that that’s what I need to maintain my sanity.

Part of that guilt and shame was because I know that in situations like that class I often let my peers or even people I look up to and respect shove me back into the closet or minimize the impact that this aspect of my life has on me as a whole.  I don’t know who is reading or listening to this, or how much you know about how I suffered at my own hands and at the hands of others in my attempts to come to terms with who I am as an individual.  Most people who know me well enough express shock that it took me until I was sixteen to even start questioning my sexuality.  Really, I’m surprised I started that early.  I’ve always known I was different, and looking back I feel blind and like everybody else knew something I didn’t know. Being gay wasn’t even a possibility in my mind.  People I loved and respected placed my trust in, routinely gay-bashed and ranted about ‘the gay agenda’.  When I finally started to see the parts of me that I had been hiding, I despised myself.

I can’t even begin to describe that feeling of self-hatred, of trying to reconcile the morals I had been raised with and the messages of hate being thrown at me from every direction with the fact that I didn’t think I was a bad person.  Looking back it seems hard to believe I survived it at all.  My world was rocked to the core, and it hasn’t been anything close to the same ever since.  I know that I survived because I was able to reach out to the right people, and I had friends who fully supported me and were there for me when I really needed them.  Regardless of the distance between us now, I will never forget what those friends did for me.

I cannot say enough how much realizing I was gay changed my life entirely.  In my life thus far, it has been the single most important event in my life.

I honestly feel lucky that I made it through so relatively unscathed.  Too many young people going through the same things I did, or something similar, don’t make it.  I don’t think that’s acceptable.  It’s really almost impossible for anybody who hasn’t gone through something like that, or helped somebody they love go through something like that to understand the intense emotional, mental and philosophical struggles involved.  Maybe reading or hearing this will help you to understand at least some of the struggle that I have gone through, and from other gay people I’ve talked to, many others have gone through as well.

I don’t want to just talk about me though, because that would give the impression that I’m alone.  I’m not alone, and it took me a long time to realize that.  LGBTQ people seemed to me for a long time to be something distant, in a different society than the one I lived in.  The truth is that there are people all around us who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer.  And sometimes it’s people who are open and out.  But sometimes, sometimes it’s that person you’re ranting to about how immoral homosexuality is.  Sometimes it’s somebody you don’t know is gay, who doesn’t advertise.  I want all of you to count the number of people you interact with today.  The most commonly given statistic is that 1 in 10 people are gay. T hat means that if you interact with 100 people today, the odds are that around 10 of them are gay.  Count the number of people in this class.  How many people sitting in this class are gay or questioning their sexuality in some way?  I can’t tell you that answer.  But maybe you should consider that fact when you start feeling like it’s okay to ever gay-bash, or even just the effect your tone might make on somebody who is gay.

I have a friend.  An amazing girl who can brighten up my day with just a smile.  She’s sweet, kind, incredibly funny, and smart as a whip.  She told me the other day that she used to identify herself as bisexual.  When I asked her why that was a past tense thing, she told me that people had told her to just make up her mind already.  My reaction to that?  She’s who she is.  And nobody should be telling her what she should or shouldn’t be, or who she should or shouldn’t love.  I don’t know how she feels about her sexuality, and I honestly am not going to say that she’s in any one category or another.  I’m not going to presume to know what she is.  All I can tell you is that I love her, she’s my friend, and nothing about her sexuality is ever going to push me away or make me act like a bitch.

I have another friend. I love this guy.  He was born female-bodied and is transgender, FTM or female to male.  He has such an amazing personality.  His philosophies on life intrigue me, and I can honestly say that every time I talk to him I learn something.  He makes me think, and more often than not, he inspires me.  And yet I see the suffering that he goes through.  I see the complete bullshit that people at school or work, family or friends, put him through.  I see the lack of respect, and sometimes just ignorance that people show towards him.  I can only begin to imagine the things that he has to deal with, the stuff that I don’t have to even think about, but can become a major issue for him.  What I hate to see most is the imbeciles, the complete and total morons who only see him for the body he was born in, and not the man he is becoming.  I feel honored to be in his life, to be there whenever I can for him.  I see the beauty on the outside and inside of him.

As things stand right now there are so many ways in which I and the people I love and identify with can be discriminated against, denied of rights, and face violence.

12 states have hate crime legislation that covers sexual orientation and gender identity.  Another 18 cover only sexual orientation without covering gender identity.  That means that in 20 states I could be beaten to a pulp or even killed because I’m a lesbian and it would not be even possible to prosecute as a hate crime.  Even in places where hate crime legislation does exist to protect LGBTQ persons, the probability of a hate crime being prosecuted as such is rather slim.  The prosecution must show that the offender both knew the person was LGBTQ and that they acted out of hatred towards that person.  Hate crime legislation merely means that there is the possibility, not a probability.

There are no federal laws that ban housing discrimination against LGBTQ persons.  As far as state laws against housing discrimination go, there are 14 states that ban discrimination against lesbian, gay and bisexual persons.  Only 4 states have explicit laws against housing discrimination based on gender identity.  So that means that in 36 states I could be denied housing because I’m a lesbian.

For more than 20 years there was a ban on HIV-positive visitors or immigration.  On October 30th, 2009, President Obama announced that this ban would be lifted, taking effect on January 4th, 2010.  Under the ban, HIV-positive foreign nationals were not allowed to enter the U.S. unless granted a special waiver which was difficult to obtain and only allowed short-term travel.  Beyond even HIV status it is impossible to gain citizenship via the traditional methods of marriage for same-sex couples because the federal government does not recognize these relationships, even when legally performed out of country.

It was easier when I was younger, to not be so invested in having the right to marry.  But I’m nineteen now.  I am in no way ready to get married.  But I see friends my age who are having children or getting married.  I want to get married at some point.  I’m not naive; I don’t think the whole thing is going to be a honeymoon, but I want to get married at some point nonetheless.  As things stand right now, I cannot get married in this state.  There isn’t even that possibility for me.  How many years will it be before I can legally be married to a woman that I love in this state? 5? 10? 15 years?

Here are the statistics for what same-sex marriage means in the United States.  Same-sex marriage is currently legal in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, and Vermont.  Starting in 2010 it will also be legal in New Hampshire. Washington, D.C. also recently voted to legalize same-sex marriage.  New York State recognizes out of state same-sex marriages, but does not perform them.  Those are the hopeful statistics.

Then there’s the fact that 41 states have bans on same-sex marriage or same-sex unions in general, often in their state constitutions.  Do you have any idea how disheartening that is?

I’m relatively lucky.  I feel safe walking down the street walking my pride belt.  I can wear my rainbow bracelet to class every day and not fear for my life.  I’m not scared of being beaten up in the bathroom because I dress too much like a boy for the comfort of many women.  I’ve been called a boy in the last two months now more than I could even imagine.  In the past month I have had women try to kick me out of at least three rest rooms, a dressing room, and been repeatedly called a boy, he, or sir.  I mostly laugh it off.  But there are places in this country that I would not feel safe.  There are places in other countries where I would not be safe at all.  If I walked down some streets, in this country or across the world, dressed like I am right now, especially if it was with my girlfriend, I would probably be beaten, raped, and possibly killed.

I asked one of my friends to write about her experiences with hate crimes.  This is what I’m reading for her.

I’m relatively lucky because I’ve faced hate speech, I’ve faced the slurs and shit-talking, but I’ve never been hit because of who I love.   How many of you can say that in your lifetime the probabilities are in favor of you being beaten at some point by a stranger or group of strangers simply because of who they perceive you to love?  How would any of you feel if I walked into class tomorrow and you saw me covered in bruises and cuts?  How would you feel if I told you that I had been beaten to within an inch of my life because somebody saw me holding my girlfriend’s hand, and just didn’t like the fact that I love another woman?

Hate speech is not to be minimized.  Being told to my face that I am immoral, somehow inferior, or just plain dirty does affect me.  I put up a strong front.  Don’t show weakness.  Don’t show fear.  Every overtly homophobic remark hurts me.  Every covertly homophobic remark hurts me.  Every time that I have to hear the hatred and ignorance, I am pained.

I am not going to apologize for being gay.  I am not going to apologize for being angry.  I have every right to be gay.  I have every right to be angry.

---

Things to Note:

Empirical data suggests that with the inclusion of a larger section of the population through legalized same-sex marriage in other countries such as Denmark, marriage has developed a stronger relevance to the traditionally more open-minded youth.

Research also suggests that it is the institution of the family rather than the specific construct that has the larger impact on children. Children appear to function and develop better in situations where their caregivers are in healthy and loving relationships that divide responsibilities in an egalitarian manner, regardless of the sex or sexuality of the parents.

The belief that homosexuality is not a choice, but pre-determined by some variety of other factors appears to be correlated to a belief that homosexuals are due certain rights. Conversely, the belief that homosexuality is a choice is associated with the belief that homosexuality is a deviancy and should not be encouraged by providing legal protections or rights for homosexuals.

Cuz there is no short version.

I am going to apologize right now for this being a novel of a post.  It is quite long, but it reads well.  You'll be my best friend if you read the whole thing though....  And you'll also know me pretty freaking well.  So, do it?  Dooo iiiit. *peer pressure*

---

As a trans person who is pre-everything (and therefore visibly queer), I have to consistently correct people that I am not a dyke lesbian.  While people rarely assume I'm a heterosexual female, which is nice, they also rarely read me as male, which is less nice (and actually kind of sucks).  Most people assume I'm some sort of queer, and most assume I like women.  So the second thing I have to disclose is that I do not exclusively like women.  If I'm already disclosing those things, I generally disclose that I'm asexual.  I mean, since we're having that conversation, why not clear up everything?  People automatically think when you're interested in someone you want to be sexual with them... and rarely (very rarely) is that the case for me. 

One of the big things I am thinking about in trying to decide how I feel about medically transitioning is coming out post-transition.  I don't really feel transsexual; I feel transgender. (Dean Spade made some excellent distinctions in his coming out letter, which you can view here.)  The distinction between the two terms is actually quite large, and while I always feel TG, I really only feel TS when society flaunts the fact that the girls I like don't see me as a member of the gender of interest, or I can't use a restroom, and stuff of the "binary" nature.  I feel simultaneously invisible and too visible and, in those moments, I wish I were biologically male.  But transitioning, I feel, would make my life a lot more complicated in many ways.  

Trans people have a different set of questions concerning coming out:  How do you compensate for your past?  When do you disclose to those you are interested in that your body parts don't match the outward exterior? (Most trans guys look 100% like a member of the biological sex they've transitioned to once on hormones.)  What should your family say when asked about "the old you" by their friends and extended family?  How you answer these questions ties into how and when you come out.  Simple stuff like, "How is [birth name] doing?" which is okay now, could really disrupt my parents' lives and generally mundane conversation after I come out as Eli.  It's a lot to think about.  (And no; I am not out as Eli to my immediate family.) 

These questions make me have a lot of compassion for intersex males who do not have penises or have micropenisis because they were born with that body.  When do they disclose this?  When does the intersex person disclose their information?  When does the infertile person disclose that they can't have kids?  A lot of people want someone who can make babies with them.  What do you do with that?  There are quite a bit of bodies (and minds) that are abnormal.  When do they disclose their abnormalities?  It really makes you wonder.

---

When I first came out to myself, it was in 2006 and I was really unaccepting of it.  It had been pretty drilled into my head that same-sex attraction was wrong and went against the natural order of things and disgusted God.  I was also heavily (very heavily) involved in ministry at my church at the time.  (I believe I was in something like 11 ministries between 2003 and 2006.)  While it was early on in 2005 that I realized the unreasonably strong feelings that had developed for this one particular girl, it took me nearly a year to admit to myself or anyone else that I liked women because I kept telling myself, "I don't like girls, I just like this one girl, and it's not because she's a girl, it's because she's awesome."  (Girl crushes #2, 3, 4, 5 kind of changed my mind....)   It was so much more than that, though; beyond "I don't like girls" it was "I can't like girls" -- and the fact that I knew I did, made me hate myself.  I entered in to a pretty deep depression, pulling myself from all my ministries, and I withdrew from my family because I understood that their position on homosexuality was very negative.  I didn't want anyone to get in my way of figuring myself out. 

I had no access to anything "queer" my first year or so of my journey; none.  I never read any articles about gay kids or coming out or was given any advise, I didn't know a single gay kid, I didn't know I could present as anything other than feminine, no one in my life bent gender or even wore their hair short, I hadn't seen any queer representation in the media, and "alternative lifestyle" (which is what all queer-themed websites fell under) was one of many categories blocked by the parental controls my father had installed on the family computer.  It being an "outside influence" is out of the question.  I was close with both parents, too, to dispel that myth; my lack of a relationship with my father is an effect of being queer, rather than a cause.

Still, even with no one to help me, I was pretty smart in how I navigated coming into my identity (according to the article we posted).  I sought out people I felt would accept me--namely gays and lesbians--afraid that those who were in my life at the time would judge me or ask that I change (which my boyfriend at the time did do, along with some other "friends").  My willingness to change was at about... 0%, as I had never felt so alive as I felt when around the girl I liked.  I'd heard about romantic attraction before but had never experienced it.  It was overwhelming to me how "real" my feelings were, and I was very apprehensive to tell anyone who might suggest change was possible.  I felt that if change were possible, I would be obligated to change, because I identified as a Christian and felt that was a Christian calling. 

I hated myself pretty intensely, and I called myself out as a "bad" Christian because even though I was praying every night for God to take away my feelings for this girl and make me straight, part of me was terrified He would actually take me up on it and I would miss feeling those things for her.  Feeling like my prayers were empty and dishonest really made matters worse, especially when the feelings I was apprehensive to get rid of were feelings I could only label as "wrong" "unacceptable" and "unnatural."  I began to do an overwhelming amount of research on what the Bible had to say about being both homosexual and Christian, reading arguments from every source I could find and weighing the (terribly contradictory) evidence.  I didn't even consider myself a homosexual... but I couldn't tear myself away from my research. 

What I found was that the church is nowhere close to unified on the issue.  And that the church IS nowhere close to unified on the issue.  Churches range from gay-bashing to accepting of the person but not his or her "lifestyle" to readily embracing the person and his or her "lifestyle".  This signaled a problem with Christianity, in the end, and a bigger "how to interpret Scripture" problem plaguing the churches.  And after a lot of researching and soul searching and crying, I decided to leave Christianity in 2007.  It wasn't as difficult a decision as it might have been a couple years prior, but my church went through a huge divide in 2005 and members of the church who I had considered family my entire life stopped talking to other members of the church family... and no one explained what happened.  It was like a divorce, a bad divorce, and I wanted no part of any of it.  I was bitter with the church for abandoning me when I felt I needed it most.  In fact, I was rather happy to leave.

But we are moving away from my story…

I made an official declaration to my parents about my queerness in November 2007 because I felt that it had become obvious over those past two years and I wanted to make sure what was assumed was understood as truth.  So I wrote them a six-page letter detailing my attraction to Girl 1, my relationship with my boyfriend at the time, the words I used to describe myself (androgynous, pansexual, and asexual) and what I needed from them (their acceptance).  As far as I know, my dad still hasn't read the letter.  He doesn't want to know.  My mother, on the other hand, essentially said, "I may not always agree with what you do, but you are my child and nothing you could ever do would make me love you any less" which is in many ways comforting to hear and in other ways discouraging (I want for what I do to be accepted too).  To this day, we do not discuss my orientation or gender identity.  They have watched me go from feminine girl with interest in guys to feminine girl with interest in girls to masculine girl with interest in girls, to the queer boy I am now, without ever discussing it once.  We are very "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" in this house.  Conversations that may be awkward or confrontational are avoided at all costs, and all the girls, guys, and trannies I bring by are "friends."

Speaking of trannies... even though I have been going to gay clubs and other gay things for a year, it wasn't until early 2008 (after writing the letter) that I met anyone who identified as "genderqueer" or "transgender" or anything outside the binary.  And it wasn't until April I would say that I was introduced to my first community of trans men.  I felt an instant connection, something clicked; I had an immediate reaction that this was the community I was searching for.  It's been a year and a half in that community, and that's still how I'm feeling.  I also feel a lot more community with lesbians than I ever had before, though, so I'm not sure what to say about that.  Essentially, I'm mad at myself for thinking that there was a way one could "feel lesbian" and since I felt more like a heterosexual male when I liked women I thought I wasn't part of "their" community.  Wrong.  I loves me some lesbians.

There is a lot more to my story that I have not touched on, both past and present.  I am currently figuring out my trans identity and what it means to me so that I can accurately come out to my parents.  It has been causing me a lot of anxiety and distress not knowing what exactly to tell my parents about me this time around, because I feel that they do not know me and thus cannot fully respect the person I feel that I am.  I want to tell them, but I don't want to tell them the wrong thing.  I'm also not sure I could handle hearing my birth name and female pronouns in association with myself after coming out to them.  When they use those now I brush it off as them not knowing any better, but later on I'm afraid I will get hurt and offended.  I realize that I have had a year to come into my identity and they may take just as much time (if not longer) but I'm honestly unsure I can be that patient.  It's very hard right now.  I have been very discontent, with myself, them, and society at large.

I struggle with both internalized homophobia and internalized transphobia.  It's cool for people around me to be gay and trans, but I have a hard time accepting it in myself.  I have strong days and weak days and, overall, I find that I am both terribly proud to be queer and terribly ashamed.  I am trying to crawl out from under the rocks and stones people have throwing at me my whole life (including myself) but has not been easy.  Thank you, Queerish community, for helping alleviate some of the pressure caused by these boulders.  I appreciate your kind support.  If I come out to my parents as transgender, or to myself as something more concrete, I'll be sure to let you know. 

Oh, and as always, questions and other random feedback are welcome.

The following is written by Dean Spade.  (More from him here.)

I've read this... probably four times, and am still learning new lessons.

Lately my life is about pronoun enforcement.  It’s one of my primary social occupations.  How did things end up this way?  How paradoxical: my trans project is about destroying rigid gender, and occupying multiple, contradictory subject positions and non-cohesive gender characteristics, but I spend all this time enforcing ‘he.’  Have I turned into a dreaded gender defender?  No, it’s not that.  Every day I’m forced to confront the fact that most people, even people I expect to meet me with thrilled excitement about the work I’m doing with my own body and mind and the minds of others to destabilize gender, can’t handle calling someone ‘he’ who they used to call ‘she’ or who doesn’t ‘look like a boy’ to them.  Of course, if you’re with me, you start noticing that no one, and everyone, looks like a boy.

So when I ask to be called ‘he,’ these are the things I get back, (all from people I truly believe have good intentions and would say they support me and trans people generally) and this is what I think about it:

Category 1: burden shifting.  Two versions exist.  The first occurs when I meet someone and let them know in the conversation that I prefer the pronouns ‘he,’ ‘him,’ and ‘his’.  They say something like, ‘That’s hard’ or ‘You’ll have to be patient with me’ or ‘Correct me when I mess up.’  The second version is the person who has known me for a while and knows I go by ‘he’ but continually uses ‘she’ when referring to me.  When I remind them, they say ‘C’mon, I’m trying’ or ‘C’mon, I get it right most of the time.’

These people are telling the truth.  It is very hard to make pronouns into a conscious process instead of an assumption based on social signals that we’ve all been trained in from birth.  However, their willingness to fail at the difficult task of thinking where non-thinking has existed is not okay.  It is inexcusably short-sighted to look at this difficulty only from an individualized perspective of how hard it is, rather than from a understanding of it as a political condition imposed upon everyone. It’s understandable to feel daunted when coming up against a new and difficult concept and use of language, but it’s not okay to refuse critical engagement and expect those whose identity positions you foreclose to be infinitely patient.

There is no innocence nor insignificance to the mistake of ‘she’ for ‘he’ when referring to a person who has chosen to take on a ‘wrong’ pronoun.  Even if it is done thoughtlessly, that thoughtlessness comes from and supports the two cardinal rules of gender: that all people must look like the gender (male or female; one out of a possible two) they are called by, and that gender is fixed and cannot be changed.  Each time this burden shifting occurs, the non-trans person affirms these gender rules, playing by them and letting me know that they will not do the work to see the world outside of these rules.

In addition, and this is where the burden shifting gets more apparent, by expecting that they will always be corrected when they mess up, and that I’ll only reasonably expect compliance with my preferred pronoun part-time, they make sure that the burden of breaking the rules stays with me.  In reality, by following and enforcing the rules which tell them to call people who look like a girl, 'she', they burden me with the rules of gender fixation.  This effectively makes the problems arising from gender confusion the responsibility of the confusing person -- the trans person -- rather than the result of a diabolically rigid gender system that screws over everyone’s ability to fully inhabit their lives.

As I mentioned before, the people who give me burden-shifting responses often identify with feminist politics, and would agree to the principle that gender rigidity and hierarchy is terrible and that people should be able to change their gender positions and identification and change the meaning of traditional gender identifications.  However, they still let me know, when they give me the burden of how hard it is for them or how they get it right most of the time, that what I’m asking them to do and to re-think is just too much to expect.  It isn’t.  It is possible to change how you think about pronouns.  It’s confusing and wonderful and totally fucks up your ability to navigate dichotomous gender easily.  That is the point.  If you aren’t confused and frustrated by trying to use words like ‘he’ and ‘she’ to label everyone in the world, then you should be working harder.

Category two: to be a trans victim.  A popular response to my complaints about the pronoun enforcement problem is a sympathetic discourse about respect.  I got this from quite a few people after the Gay Shame fiasco where I was introduced on stage as ‘she’ before I spoke.  Many of the wonderful people who were also outraged by this described it as an issue of ‘respect’ and of not making a trans safe space at gay shame.  Though there is a respect problem and it does in fact make the space unsafe for trans people, this approach individualizes the problem to trans people.  When I hear non-trans people say that I should get called by the pronoun I choose as a matter of respecting my choice, it almost feels like a tolerance argument.  As if trans people are these different people, and when they come around you should respect their difference, but do no more.  This lines up with a view that all ‘different’ people, whether disabled, old, immigrant, of color, trans, gay, etc., should be ‘respected’ by calling them what they want, but that the fundamental fact of their difference and of the existence of a norm should not be analyzed.  Often, this view accompanies a perspective of these different people as victims, sort of pathetic outsiders who others should smile at and maybe have a special day at work or school where we all discuss how difference is good.

The thing is, I’m not looking for people to mindlessly force themselves to call me ‘he’ in order to avoid making me uncomfortable.  If comfort was my goal, I could probably have found a smoother path than the one I’m on, right?  I haven’t chosen this word ‘he’ because it means something true to me, or it feels all homey and delicious.  No pronoun feels personal to me.  I’ve chosen it because the act of saying it, of looking at the body I’m in and the way that my gender has been identified since birth and then calling me ‘he,’ disrupts oppressive processes that fix everyone’s gender as ‘real,’ immutable, and determinative of your station in life.  I’m not hoping that people will see that I’m different, paste a fake smile on their faces and force themselves to say some word about me with no thought process.  I’m hoping that they will feel implicated, that it will make them think about the realness of everyone’s gender, that it will make them feel more like they can do whatever they want with their gender, or at least cause a pause where one normally would not exist.  Quite likely, this will be uncomfortable for all of us, but I believe that becoming uncomfortable with the oppressive system of rigid gender assignment is a great step toward undoing it.

So, go ahead, try thinking outside the confines of ‘tolerance’ taught by the diversity trainings you were given at college or work or on TV.  Challenge yourself to do more than mimic respectful behavior that will make individual ‘different people’ feel at home.  Instead, take a look at what those differences mean, how they got invented, what they are based on, and how they determine behavior, power, access, and language.  Respect and safe space are a good start, and usually a hard-fought accomplishment, but I certainly fantasize about a more engaged approach to difference.

What does my uncertainty say about my gender identity?  Do I really "feel male"?  What does it mean to "feel male" -- or female, for that matter?  If gender doesn't exist, if it is all just a performance, who am I?  Who is anyone?  Why all these questions?

Am I trying to run away from my past (or past person)?  Am I trying to run away from uncertainty in identity by doing something concrete like changing my body?  Could I exist in the world as a woman?  Could I exist in the world as the person I am now?  What are my motivations for this?  How much internalized homophobia (the fear of being a woman-loving woman) am I still consumed by?  How much of a difference does it make to the world for me to be a heterosexual with occasional same-sex interest vs. a homosexual with occasional opposite-sex interest?  Why do I even care about labels? 

How much religious dogma am I still brainwashed by?  How much FEAR am I still living in?  When I said that I liked Kim and wanted to be her boyfriend, in adolescence, how much of that was because I feel male and how much of that was because I understood that, to be a girl's significant other that person would have to be male?  Do I actually perpetuate the very stereotypes I admonish others for finding truth in and/or giving into?  Would I feel pressured to give into those very stereotypes if I identified as female?   Do I feel it is easier to live in society as a man or that male expectations are in many cases lower than those for females (especially concerning beauty)?  How do I know which way I like people if I don't experience sexual attraction -- and how much of my gender identity relates to my sexual orientation? 

Will transitioning disappoint those that I care about the most (family)?  Will I be able to handle it if this disappoints them?

Is my motivation for transition because I feel unlovable in my current state?  Is my motivation for transition because I feel invisible in my current state? Is my motivation for transition because I feel too visible in my current state?  How many of my problems would transition fix, anyway?  How many of my problems are with me; how many are with my body?  How much does it bother me to neither be "one of the girls" nor "one of the guys"?  How much am I just dying for community?  Would I still be unlovable or invisible if I were outwardly male?  Is it all in my head?

Is my motivation for transition because I feel uncomfortable in my current state?  How much longer can I put up with the staggering lack of congruency between how male I look clothed and how female I look naked?  How much longer can I put up with not being in a body a heterosexual female would be interested in (a body that automatically rules me out as dateable)?  Would I want to date someone that cared that much about gender, anyway?  Could I date a lesbian?  Would a lesbian want to date me?  Why does it matter?  With all these claims about how I don't "see" gender, why the big issue with sexual orientation?  Would I miss my queer community post-transition?  Would I miss recognition as a queer person post-transition?  Would I disappear into straight society?  Would I stay openly trans, or would I go "stealth"?  (And how will I ever know?)  Will I have regrets?  Will I like my body more?

How much of life am I missing out on because people see me as so much younger than I am?  How much longer will I be influenced by a reflection that tells me I am younger than I am?  When will I stop being insecure about my body?  Could I exist as male without testosterone?  How much longer will I be able to put up with not being able to use a public restroom?  How much longer am I going to fear my safety?  Or fear that people who perceive me as male initially might react poorly if/when they realize or "find out" that they read me wrong (or so they think)?  How long will I be insecure about my physical body being scrawny for a male, or my voice being too high for a male, or my gestures being too feminine?   

Do I care about the evolution of my singing voice to the extent that I play it up to, or do I play it up because it's an easy excuse for taking my time deciding on transition?  Why do I compare myself to other trans guys, or feel like it's okay to consider myself "not trans enough"?  How much longer will I live in fear?  How much longer will I be asking these questions?

I wrote this on that "What's Your Story?" post I recommended a couple of days ago: (This version is mildly edited.  Like the number reflects how many days old I am today, and I added a sentence and took out a couple others.) 

"My name is Eli. I'm twenty (and have lived exactly 7416 days, not counting today). I believe that life needs to be cherished, and that every day we find ourselves in a sea of unrealized miracles as each moment is BURSTING with the gift of life.  I love loving, and giving.  I have philosophies about anything and everything; I am very metacognitive (I think, and then I think about thinking).  If there was a cure for homosexuality or transsexuality or any other queer "condition", I would cry; if someone told me they could make me heterosexual I would tell them they were crazy for thinking I would want it.  The world needs the queers.  I am a happy tranny lost boy feminist hip hoppy rap poet with a classical-traditional side.  I'm a chameleon, a rainbow, a prism, a tapestry, an unwritten book, a spirit, a soul, a smile, a tree, a lover, a fighter, a giver, a seed, a thinker, a human, and honest to a fault.  I am Chbosky's Charlie.  I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.  I am me and nothing more.  I think the only thing worse than mean people is ignorance.  I don't keep secrets.  I lend out my books to near strangers and hardly ever get them back.  I spend something like five hours a day on the computer, but don't think it a waste of time.  I have a love for language, and languages.  I have no problem talking to strangers.  Conversation is important to me and the way I live life -- especially conversing with strangers.  I like to learn from others.  I like to learn."

I'm reading Perks again, for a fifth time... I uncover a new layer of myself every time I read it, and a new depth to the novel too.  Maybe it's because I've taken five psychology classes since the first time I read it (technically three psych classes, since the two I'm in now aren't over yet), I don't know, but there are so many more things that jump out at me as important to remember and reflect on now.  It's almost overwhelming.

I can't stop identifying with Charlie.  And I can't figure out how I feel about this.  I mean, he's a freshman in high school, so... fourteen?  I'm twenty.  Is that healthy?  Is that safe?  Should I really be comparing myself to him, identifying with him?  But I am him, we share a soul.  He questions and observes, and his reflections come from a pure, honest place inside him.  I am that boy.  I am that simple.  I am that complex.  I am that observant, and that analytical. 

Lately I have been into observing the couples around me.  Probably because I am lonely.  And maybe a bit jealous.  I have found some girls worth swooning over, and I'm pretty sure they're taken, or at least straight, or at least don't see me as a potential dating candidate because I look twelve.  It's cool.  Anyway, it goes beyond that.  I look at them and I wonder if they're happy in their relationships.  Those of them that are happy I would never dream of pursuing.  Those of them that aren't happy I would never dream of pursuing.  But I want them to be happy, and I do hope they're happy.

I've also spent far too much time trying to figure out why people stay in their relationships when they are neither happy with their partner nor fulfilled by the relationship.  Or worse, remain in something when it is damaging to their self-esteem, their physical body, or their well-being in general.  I imagine there was a time when it was good.  And I wonder what happened.  Generally, someone takes their partner for granted, doesn't realize that they are a person with feelings, or doesn't put their partner's needs and wants before their own.  Silly people.  Life is about your relationships.  Put more effort into them.  More care.

Who in their right mind hits their partner?  Who in their right mind even belittles their partner?  I sit and wonder what childhoods and adolescences my classmates have gone through, if they were bullied, what their parents are like, what behavior they have seen modeled.  I just want people around me to be happy.  And more, I want them to fully appreciate this life and feel loved by it in return.  But it seems people's pasts are full of too much hurt to learn to love, and to learn to let love in.

I am in this fragile lonely state that has me sympathizing with people who stay with partners that aren't the best for them.  Sometimes it feels like being with someone that doesn't fully appreciate you (read: treats you like crap) is better than having no one at all.  I am tired of sleeping alone, tired of being alone, tired of living a life that is seemingly antisocial.  I am tired of seven hours a day of computer time and my coworkers being my only friends and not being close to anyone at my college.  All my friends live in the computer.  I need people.  I need someone to save me.  I need to be drawn out.

From the above book, God is a Verb, by Rabbi David A. Cooper.

"The Kabbalists teach that everything we do stirs up a corresponding energy in other realms of reality. Actions, words, or thoughts set up reverberations in the universe. The universe unfolds from moment to moment as a function of all the variables leading up to that moment. When we remain cognizant of this mystical system, we are careful about what we do, say, or even think, for we know that everything is interdependent; we know that a seemingly insignificant gesture could have weighty consequences.

For example, when we leave our home to go visit someone we are affected by our surroundings in thousands of ways from t he time we step out the door until we return. Where we place our feet, the people we see, the traffic we encounter, and the impressions we make all can be envisioned as intersecting lines in a great tapestry of life.

Now, what happens if the telephone rings just as we are about to leave? Our trip is delayed a few minutes. This changes the design of the entire tapestry. Everything is different. The timing changes. The green light is red; the person we would have smiled at is gone; the aunt we never saw is now crushed.

In the new science of chaos theory, there is a well-known phenomenon called the "butterfly effect," in which the air moved in one part of the world by an insect can be the initiatory cause for a typhoon that occurs somewhere else in the world at a later time. The technical term is called "sensitive dependence upon initial conditions." This theory adds incredible dimension to our lives if we take note of it. What does it mean that my automobile would push one air mass if I were not interrupted by a telephone call, and a completely different air mass if I were? What different reverberations are set up in the universe by those few minutes? Does one lead to a typhoon in my life, while the other does nothing?

Moreover, what if the phone ringing causes me to miss a terrible accident that otherwise would have maimed or killed me? A truck lost its breaks and came through a red light where I would have been had the phone not rung. Should I call this a miracle? Yet how should I even know that the accident would have occurred? Two minutes later, everything seems normal. Obviously, this would be an "unrealized" miracle.

In Jewish mysticism, the instant we open our eyes to the true dimension of creation and causality, we find ourselves immersed in a sea of miracles. This realization is astonishing. At any instant, creation might unfold in a way that would be disastrous for us; therefore, each moment is bursting with the gift of life. Indeed, as a result of this awareness, the mystic loves life intensely and feels loved by it."

My interpretation:  Love life!  The very fact that you are alive is the greatest miracle!   To quote Lo, "Take note of how precious each day is!"

"I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why."

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

Waking Life and Perks of Being a Wallflower.  Life doesn't get any freaking better.

Wake the fuck up, people.