GenderBendy

Serenity

Elizabeth woke, slept, and woke again through the wee hours. Her last shot of Dilaudid had been at 10pm, and by 5:30 the next morning she could feel it had worn off, but she did not immediately call Chantal, the night nurse, to ask for more. Dawn crept through the louvers, a muted green-gold luminosity.
There was no sharp pain, only many discomforts: a sore lower back, various itches and tickles, and between her legs, the sensation of the old accoutrements oddly squashed and pinched. The phantom scrotum, she and Sus had both said last evening, simultaneously finding the aptest and funniest phrase. Elizabeth particularly welcomed the clear feeling of a pinch at the tip of her departed penis - her clitoris, now - because one rare but possible bad outcome had been the loss of sexual sensation.
Then there was the growing feeling of something rocklike in a spot for which she had no word to fill in the blank of "...where my _______ used to be." Chantal, not knowing the English word for what was causing the feeling, called it "la moule," pronouncing it like the English word for a tunneling rodent, which was good for a laugh. A quick check on the Android (and, oh, how Elizabeth loved her new phone) provided the translation "mussel," but also "mold," i.e., something in the line of a condom crammed hard with cotton balls, maintaining the vault of her new vagina.
By 630a, pain meds seemed called for again - sensations becoming more raw - and soon Elizabeth floated warm and sleepy...she set the phone aside to finish her laborious yet meditative one-finger typing later...
***
After a delicious hour of nap, Lisa resumed her typing, gently stoned. Breakfast would be soon, then a first try at walking. At her request the nurse opened the louvers, which led to an impromptu duet with Danielle in the next bed on "Here Comes the Sun." Danielle, a garrulous Québécoise paper deliverer with an incomprehensible rural accent and little English, made surreal company.
And what of the expected emotions? The tears, the euphoria? Absent. In their place an enduring calm. The drugs perhaps, but also the release from long tension and suspense. The deed was done. No going back. No desire to go back. No regret. And perhaps, theoretical for the time being, the first inkling of a new freedom to turn toward the world with love in a way which had always until now felt unsafe.
Sitting up for breakfast brought on a sharp bout of nausea and dizziness. Much healing yet to done...time to post, then close her eyes as the nurse had ordered. There would be time for more of the therapy of one-finger typing later.

Genderqueer conversations

I recently had the pleasure of chatting with three fascinating people who identify outside the gender binary. Jules, Lyndon, and Taffy challenged my preconceptions and broadened my perspectives about gender in the same way that I hope my transsexualism challenges and broadens my cisgendered friends' and relatives' preconceptions and perspectives. Our conversations resulted in an article in the summer 2012 edition of Out In Maine, which can be viewed here. (Note this link takes you to a browsable on-line mockup of the magazine; the article starts on page 24.) Happy reading! :-)

Naked ambition!

The symptoms are clear: I’m preparing once again to ask the world to love me. Danger danger *sirens* whoop whoop whoop...

To wit:

• Yesterday I stopped at Starbird Music and tried out some of their pianos by playing on them various of the pieces I have been working up for the past couple of years. A normal thing for some people to do, no doubt, but for me, a rare and perilous foray into public performance.
• I’ve thought again in the past few days about sending out the book proposal. Except for a few tweaks it has been ready for months, and I have been sitting on it, inventing excuses, but really just avoiding the next step out of terror of the inevitable rejections.
• Last night I Noticed Someone, and I think perhaps vo noticed me too, and today I’ve been thinking of actually doing something about it...you know, like asking ven out...with trepidatious pulse, breath caught in throat, etc. 

I roll my eyes at myself.

So what the fuck? Why does any act which involves the least risk of rejection feel so life-and-death? Hyperdeveloped ego? Or just sen-si-tive?

No doubt both. But there is also this: back in the old days, gender was my safety buffer. When I got rejected it still hurt, but I could always think in my secret heart, “I’m still OK, because they rejected Male Self, not me.”

Another thing happened last night: a person I had never met before said “How’s your book?” I gaped at ven. “Didn’t you write a book?” Ves face was intent.

“Um...I’ve written two books, but neither is published.”

“Oh. Well, I’m psychic. You’re going to be very famous.”

“I won’t let it ruin me,” I said with fervor.

Do I want to be famous? Really? Well...yeah, actually, I do. I want to write a bestseller. I feel like I should be ashamed about that, or that it’s delusional or weak or doomed to failure, but you know what? Fuck all that. Ambition? Check.

And really truly, if I do hit the big time, I won’t let it ruin me. That’s important to say, because, as impossible as it seems at the moment in my absurdly vulnerable squirming, I might actually succeed.

One other symptom of resurgent ambition: a higher than usual rate of blog posting. Can’t you see I’m on my knees, begging you with all my heart, read me, please? Love me, please? Please please pleeeeeeeze?

More soon, no doubt. I’m insatiable!

Oh, and, I love you too. :-)

 

Gender-neutral pronouns: a new proposal

As a trans word geek I fervently agree that we need gender-neutral pronouns in English. I'm concerned, though, that the ones I’m hearing used, ze and hir, don’t get far enough away from the old pronouns, and that this leads to problems.

For example, the only way to separate hir and her is to stress the vowel sound, but object pronouns are often unstressed, so the two words end up sounding the same. Likewise, in certain elisions, ze and he sound alike: “She says ze did it.” And ze and hir have another problem too: they share no letters, and so look and sound unrelated. A new pronoun set ought to be as cohesive and intuitive as possible, or it won’t catch on.

What we need to fix these issues is new sounds, and the same starting letter for every word in the set. My choice for this letter is distinctive, gender-neutral, and previously unused for pronouns in English, and I love the symbolism in its shape of two becoming one. I propose a new pronoun set based on the letter V.

I am not the first to use this letter; the set ve/ver/vis/vis/verself was put forward by New Zealand writer Keri Hulme in the 1980’s. The reason I’m not just championing Keri’s pronouns is because I think she fell in the same trap the inventor(s) of ze and hir did: she used endings from the existing pronouns. There's only one letter of difference between ver and her, vis and his, ve and he, so consonant-dropping and elision are both going to lead to trouble, e.g., "I believe ve did."

It’s too bad, because otherwise ve would work fine for a subject pronoun. It’s short, as a subject pronoun should be, and it features a solid long vowel sound which, depending on the speaker’s need, can either be punched for emphasis or more or less dropped for rapid speech. 

So, what we need is a new long vowel sound with the same properties, and among the remaining possibilities one stands out. It’s otherwise absent from English personal pronouns, and of all the choices it leads to the most inuitive spelling: the lovely long O sound. For our new subject pronoun I therefore propose vo.

Object pronouns are often unstressed and/or appear in the middle of sentences, so for maximum clarity and flow of speech we need a short vowel sound and an easily elided final consonant, both new. For our new object pronoun I propose ven. Note how this word remains distinctive when, in unstressed positions, the initial consonant is dropped: “Give it to ‘en.”

For the two forms of possessive (determiner and pronoun, if you're a grammar geek), simplest is to combine our unique new constant and vowel sounds with the established final hard Z sound (preserving the convention of spelling it with an S): ves. And finally, for the reflexive, the same straightforward approach gives us veself.

And, one bonus idea: Since it would certainly often be pronounced as such, vo could alternatively be spelled v’.

So, the whole new proposed pronoun set is vo(v')/ven/ves/ves/veself.

None of these words is already a word or a homonym of a word (except for the Venn of Venn Diagrams - an opportunity for a clever visual pun, but otherwise harmless). All of them are previously ungendered. As a set they combine strong unity with crucial new sounds. They work at all levels of emphasis and formality. They are elegant in their simplicity, and fun to say. The new letters might make them a little hard to get used to at first, but I believe this is a pronoun set people might actually learn and use.

I showed these words to my friend Alex, and vo says v'loves them, veself. In ves opinion, they’re just what we need, so I said they were a gift from me to ven. I told ven they are ves to keep.

If you like these new pronouns, please feel free to start using them, and by all means please forward, repost, reblog and retweet everywhere...help spread the pronoun reVOlution! :-)

Yours for a brigher future,

Lisa Bunker
www.genderbendy.com

Editorial note (5/28/12): I've rewritten this post a couple of times, trying to get the pronoun set just right. Having done some field-testing, I've settled on vo(v')/ven/ves/ves/veself as my final proposal.

Maine's Transgender Revolution video

I'm turning 50 next Tuesday. If I figure out what that means, you can be sure I'll post about it. ;-)

In the meantime, video is now available online of a panel discussion I recently helped put together about the past, present, and future of the trans experience in Maine. The panel was presented by the Jean Byers Sampson Center for Diversity in Maine on March 21st, 2012, on the USM Portland campus, and it went really well. My fellow panelists - Margaret Cook, Jamie-Lynn Emma Kane, and Alex Roan - were all excellent, sharing personal stories and general insights in a wide-ranging conversation which was variously funny, touching, profound, and inspirational. We also had some wonderful input from the audience.

Links:  Part One  Part Two

Brief personal viewing notes: I hate my voice still. I have *got* to do something about that. But, I thought I rocked the dress pretty well...panel day turned out to be the first really warm day of spring I anticipated in this post.

Anyway, if you decide to check any of the video out, happy viewing! :-)

Out of a flame war, pandemic love

Last night my 19-year old daughter Madeleine posted on facebook some whimsical wordplay based on terms she is trying out to describe her sexuality. She has already claimed “pansexual,” (which I also am coming to prefer for myself), meaning attracted to people based on who they are as people, regardless of biological sex or gender; and she’s trying out the word “demisexual”, meaning not tending to feel sexual attraction except to a person with whom one has first become emotionally intimate (which I also like for myself...I hope you don’t mind, dearest, that I’m co-opting your words). “Demisexual” is a new-minted word, courtesy of the asexuality movement, for an old-fashioned idea: sex as an adjunct to, an extension and expression of, love. So Mad’s line was that she’s a “pandemic romantic,” which, I don’t know about you, but I think that’s funny.

A few of her friends posted light-hearted comments, and then one particular friend, whom I will call X, posted this: “‘Pansexual’ is an orientation. ‘Demisexual’ is not. Neither is ‘romantic’. Just sayin'.”

An escalation ensued. Points got misunderstood, feelings got hurt, and what could have been a substantive conversation about the complexities of identity quickly turned personal. An hour and 40-some posts later, several people had posted things they are probably regretting today (if they’re done fuming), my daughter had defriended X, and various friends both in cyber and real space were giving her hugs in commiseration for having been the unwitting trigger of, and scorched figure at the center of, a doozy of a flame war.

This incident has helped me crystallize some thoughts about sex, gender, and queer identity. First of all, I respectfully disagree with X. Demisexuality and being a romantic *are* both orientations. In fact, in a way, they are more radical orientations than the L, G, and B of LGBT, because, just as pansexuality challenges the unquestioned assumption behind these letters that gender matters, they challenge the unquestioned assumption that sex matters. They are a “none of the above” option. They say: “If I, whoever I turn out to be, should happen to want to go to bed with my sweetie, whoever my sweetie turns out to be, it will be because I love my sweetie and my sweetie loves me. Love is different from sex and knows no gender, and love is what matters most to me.”

I am *not* saying that LGB folk don’t understand or care about love. Completely not. But queer culture does seem to me to be as obsessed with sex as our culture as a whole is. I don’t really have a problem with that, though as a person who cares less about sex than love it makes me feel marginalized at both cultural levels. And I could hardly blame people fighting for equality for their sexual identities if they felt threatened by the idea that sex doesn’t matter. I do have a problem, though, when it becomes politically incorrect to speak of non-sexual or only-incidentally-sexual love.

And, I *am* saying that the emphasis on traditional concepts of gender inherent in the definitions of L, G, and B sometimes feels inimical to the interests of us T folk. My dear LGB friends: I thank you most fervently for the enormous amount of help and support you have given me in my gender work, both individually and, by fighting a version of the same fight first, on a global scale. I have learned and benefited from your struggle. I stand shoulder to shoulder with you against the forces of prejudice and hate which so seldom distinguish between us. And, I enjoy your company, feel at ease with you, and am so grateful to have been welcomed in under the big LGBT umbrella. But, alas, all that said, I do also sometimes see you as part of the gender hegemony against which, all my life, I have struggled. I will never self-identify as gay, lesbian, bi, hetero or homo, because all of this terminology fails to challenge and continues to perpetrate the bad old binary concept of gender. Until I come up with something I like better, I am a pandemisexual romantic trans woman.

May I invite you to join me and Mad in seeking new ways of talking about ourselves and each other which celebrate the diversity, complexity, and subtlety of gender as thoroughly as we have celebrated the diversity, complexity, and subtlety of sexuality? And could we all, please, get at least part of the way back to the charming old-fashioned notion of speaking reverently of love?

Overdue blurt update

Blurg...blogging backlog...too much to narrate coherently without writing a novella...slave to notion that everything must be recorded...the dammed flow of observation, musings, and purported wit rises up the walls of the mental reservoir, threatening to overflow...the walls bulge.

Weary of writing “I, I, I” all the time, Elizabeth switches to the third person. An arguably pretentious move, but it gives her more practice referring to herself with female pronouns, which she needs, as her confidence that she’s really managing to pull off this woman in the world thing wavers from moment to moment.

Elizabeth applied last month for a job at Hannaford, checking groceries for the summer, or bagging, or anything...she really needs to supplement her income. At first she thought she wasn’t even going to get an interview, because the woman behind the customer service desk gave her one of *those* looks (hooded eyes, tight mouth, stiff shoulders). Elizabeth persevered, calling twice to follow up, and got an interview. The woman who interviewed her was warm and talkative and hyperactive, and called her “sweet,” and Elizabeth really couldn’t tell if this woman could tell that she was trans...no double-takes, no slightly-too-long stares, no care with pronouns or the like. Elizabeth left with high hopes...but then the regretful message on her voice mail...polite, with a good reason carefully spelled out. And it turns out once there’s something about you which people might react to with prejudice, there’s always that question - is it because I’m trans?

Another recent consumer-life hassle centers around a smarmy eye doctor who has given her a bad prescription for new glasses twice now, the correction as off as the original try. Is he just burned out, as he seems, or is it a passive-aggressive response to the fact that she’s trans?  She realizes she’s being suspicious, and she thinks of a person of African descent she knows who takes every minor setback in life as evidence of pervasive racism, and swears she never wants to become like that person...but how? Just roll with the bullshit? Stay noble and calm and not sink to their level and let the assholes do their worst? Their worst can be be really bad, she knows...history has shown.

Then there’s the thorny question of money. Elizabeth is actively planning at this point to get Sexual Reassignment Surgery in the next year or two. It is not covered by insurance, and generally runs about $20K. And that’s not all...she also wants Facial Feminization Surgery, which runs more like $50-60K, and is also not covered by insurance. Where is this $80K supposed to come from? She could liquidate her retirement savings, but that would mean swallowing the penalty for early withdrawal, and of course no more retirement savings. She could sell her house, but that would disrupt her own life and the lives of her children, and leave her without even the modest equity she has managed to retain through divorce and other reverses. Borrowing the money doesn’t seem to be an option, because it turns out lenders won’t accept mobile homes for collateral unless you own the land underneath them too, and she doesn’t. She has one lead on a company that might still...that’s one glimmer of hope. And then there’s always appealing to relatives, but oh, my, how terribly awkward that feels...and meanwhile, she’s going slowly but steadily deeper into debt, just to live. That second part-time job grows more and more important, but it’s so hard to find.

One bright spot: Elizabeth’s dentist, a friend, has offered to give her enamelplasty to feminize her smile. Boy teeth are bigger and squarer than girl teeth, and just a little artful rounding and shaping here and there could have a subtle but significant effect. He really seems to know what he’s doing - prides himself in his denture work, which is quite an art, it seems - so she’s going ahead with the procedure. She plans to post before and after pics.

And, at some point earlier in the month, Elizabeth passed the first year anniversary of starting hormones. That has been going well. Her whole body has grown slimmer and softer, most of the hair below her neck has faded away, her face looks significantly thinner and more feminine (actual cheekbones!), and her new baby breasts comfortably fill an A-cup. She is happy about the changes, but she has also begun to yearn for the return of sexual feeling...not the old way, though, never again the old way...hence the growing feeling of urgency around the need for SRS soon.

Still very much in process: electrolysis (another expense); and voice work (slow progress, rather than any breakthrough).

Having typed for an hour more or less at speed, Elizabeth decides to post immediately, without the usual meticulous rewriting and copy-editing. Blurt it out, put it up. Save the exquisite craftswomanship for next time. And so, she thinks, off it goes. (But it should come as no surprise that the next day she can't resist coming back and tinkering.)

Outside agitator

Recently my friend Kennedy approached the SMCC Student Senate with a request that the college discrimination policy be amended to include gender identity and expression. The Senate enthusiastically endorsed this idea and sent it on up the chain of governance. It turns out that discrimination policy is set at the system level (there are seven community colleges in Maine), so the request made its way to the desk of the Maine Community College System’s General Counsel, Derek Langhauser; and at the SMCC Student Senate meeting this past Wednesday Diane Vickrey, SMCC Dean of Students and Planning and the college’s Affirmative Action Officer, brought Mr. Langhauser’s decision back to the Senate.

I was at this meeting, because Kennedy was down in Florida supporting Branden through top surgery (B is doing well post-op...yay!), and had sent out an e-mail asking if anyone else could  go and represent the transgender point of view. Jamie went with me, and some other trans-folk whom I didn’t know were there too, at least one of whom was an SMCC student. Senate President Danielle Swartz welcomed us politely.

The policy will not be changed, Dean Vickrey said, because legal protection against discrimination based on gender identity or expression is covered under protections on the basis of sex and sexual orientation, or implied by the existing policy.  She said that the system doesn't want the list to include sub-categories of categories already on the list; that it is supposed to be "a succinct summary of the categories of protection." She said if there was an incident of discrimination on the basis of gender, the college would still protect the person being discriminated against, because all groups are explicitly or implicitly protected by law. She also said it is not possible to change the policy at this time because it is the General Counsel who would have to move the change forward.

As she spoke I began to feel riled. Her tone struck me as condescending, and I got the feeling from the hunkered-down silence around the table that many in the room felt intimidated by her. So I started asking questions: Who did Mr. Langhauser work for? Was he hired or appointed? (The system Board of Trustees, hired.) What was the correct spelling of his name? Perhaps my voice shook a bit; I was feeling a personal outrage still fairly new to my experience, having lived most of my life as a non-religious able-bodied straight white male...but I stayed courteous, and so did she. Fair to say, though, her face became more unfriendly each time I asked another question.

When she was done I took the floor long enough to make sure that a clear statement was made about gender being a distinct category of its own, separate from sex and sexual orientation, and deserving of separate protection (eliciting nods around the table); President Swartz also read a portion of a statement Kennedy had written which restated and supported these points.

A student asked what the Senate could do instead of pursuing a change in the discrimination policy, and Dean Vickrey said they could craft a campus-based diversity statement affirming the rights of all groups. She started listing all the positive effects this statement could have, and her tone struck me as even more condescending than before. I felt that she was telling the Senate to shut up and behave; that she was offering them, instead of a chance to make real change, a kind of pretend democracy to play at. I interrupted her.  “But not legal protection,” I said, and hunkered heads nodded around the room. Someone murmured, “Yeah, that’s what I...” She glowered at me. No, not legal protection, she admitted.

As the meeting concluded Dean Vickrey offered to invite Mr. Langhauser to an upcoming meeting so he could address the Senate's concerns directly. She also asked about the Senate's policy on open meetings - I gather she hadn't expected guests ;-). She was told that meetings are open unless the senate goes into executive session.

So, assuming Mr. Langhauser agrees to come, there will be an opportunity to speak directly to the man, and maybe educate him a little (respectfully) about gender being a separate issue which really matters to people. Kennedy has started something good. The fact that the change needs to be made at the system level if it is going to be made at all renders this fight that much more important.

I have to say, the whole experience gave me a rush...challenging the complacent Dean; claiming the right to speak my mind and seeing that I was speaking for others in the room; standing up for myself and my trans-siblings. If I can I’ll be at that next meeting...I want to do it again. :-)

Pronoun gaffes

My children have a thing they do called the "awkward turtle"...you put one hand over the other, palm to back, and waggle your thumbs on opposite sides, like a turtle swimming, and it symbolizes a deeply uncomfortable social moment.  Recently I've had a couple of awkward turtle moments around pronouns.

One was with Kennedy, an F to M acquaintance of mine.  I met him through a support group, and we talked a couple of times and formed a mutual liking.  Then he showed up at my work one day as the head of a team of people who had come to do some cleaning as part of a time-dollar barter trade.  The other people on his team were using female pronouns with him, and that confused me.  My mistake was to assume that they knew each other; thinking about it afterward, I realized I had overheard comments which made it clear that they had only come together that day.  But in the moment I heard "she" and "her" and when he came to say hello I asked haltingly something like, "You do live as male, right?  Out here in the real world?"  And he sort of faltered for a moment (Awkward turtle!) and then rallied with apparent effort and said heartily, "Yes, of course!" 

Sorry Kennedy!  I squirm, I squirm!

Then there was a social gathering at a coffeehouse put together by MaineTransNet, the remarkable little non-profit group which had also put together the support group where I met Kennedy.  When I showed up in full femme mode there were already about ten people there, in various stages of transition in both directions.  One was Dal, whom up until that time I had only seen in a MaineTransNet video...a fully transitioned transwoman.  She was physically large, especially through the shoulders, and the way she was sitting and talking, taking up half a couch and filling the room with her voice, the first vibe I got was masculine, so when she said something I agreed with, I said, "He's right!  I mean, she's right...beg pardon!"  Squirm squirm...awkward turtle to the tenth power...ow, ow, ow...this one still makes me blush...

Sorry Dal!  Please don't hate me!

Later we talked face to face, and I got from her face and manner the true femme feel which will ensure I use the right pronouns from now on.

And then, just to provide a little perspective from the other side, the other night I was at a training for trainers in Maine's No On One campaign (Google it!), and I introduced myself as trans and was feeling femme, and when someone used male pronouns with me, it grated.  You mean "she," said my internal voice...but I did not speak aloud.  I let it go.

I begin to perceive that if I am going to transition, I am going to have to grow a thicker skin along the way...which, thank goodness, helps me forgive myself for messing up with Kennedy and Dal.  

Live and learn, right?