Quick Hit: Straight Jacket

I discovered this poem today and it really resonates with me. I came to Boston, in part, to find a sense of community; but instead I’ve spent most of my time here in the “closet” of my dorm room. I especially love the lines, “How would I teach a nation to love what it doesn’t understand/ If I wasn’t strong enough to love myself in front of them.” The idea that you have to make peace with yourself before you can seek it with others is something I struggle with. I’ve transcribed it after the break.

Staying Alive

My three years in high school were the worst in my life. I was battling dysthymia, coming to terms with being gay (and later trans), and dealing with all of the typical troubles of being a high school kid. My friends were my lifeline during that time. One guy, in particular, would stay up and talk with me whenever I needed him. Sometimes my friends weren’t enough, though. At least once a month I went through a major depressive episode and turned to alcohol to cope; I would sit in my closet and drink until I didn’t care about the pain I was in.

I’ve always been good at stopping a habit before it becomes a problem. In eleventh grade, I realized that monthly drinking as a way to deal would only serve to create more problems. When I moved to college, I stopped drinking and moved towards smoking and sleeping as a coping strategy. It wasn’t as dangerous as drinking, but it wasn’t the smartest way of coping. Fortunately, life got better in college and I rarely smoked more than a pack a month.

When I transferred to college, I resolved to leave my vices behind. I quit smoking in August and don’t keep alcohol or cigarettes in my room (with the exception of my unfinished pack). The problem is that I still have bouts of double depression and now I don’t have any sure-fire coping mechanisms. I blast music, I watch tv, I sleep, I read… but nothing works for long and sometimes nothing works at all.

So I’m turning it over to you. Are there any activities that keep you sane? People to talk to? Words of encouragement? What do you do to stay alive when the world is telling you to not bother?

Embracing my Legal Name

I stayed with a friend from home while I was in Vermont last weekend. She isn’t great with using my legal name, and that’s okay with me– I’ve known her since I was ten and I don’t mind being that person around her; most our memories are from when I identified as Briana so I am not uncomfortable about it.

As soon as I was introduced to her friends, however, that comfort disappeared. It felt awkward to be associated with that name and to have to use it in conversation. I feel the same way when I have to use my legal name day-to-day; I use my credit card as sparingly as possible and only purchase things that require ID at certain places. The general discomfort I have with using my legal name is interesting when compared with how easily I can use it in some situations– I know that it is possible to feel comfortable accepting that name, but I rarely do. Because I have to use my legal name pretty frequently, I’ve been trying to embrace it.

I am reminded of an article I read about a trans man who kept his birth name, Barbara. I don’t remember why he choose to keep his birth name, but I found his approach almost liberating. The fact that I am male means my body is male despite traditionally accepted notions of maleness. The same can apply to my name; even though it is traditionally a girl’s name, the fact that I am a boy makes it, in my case, a boy’s name. 

This mindset is far more useful in theory than in practice, but it can help. Even though I still get tense whenever I have to use my credit card, I have been successful in explaining away my “girl’s” name by insisting that my parents wanted a daughter (it’s amazing what confidence can do). I’m still planning on changing my legal name, but until I do, I have found it possible to embrace.

The Military

I’ve always been intrigued by the military. Only a few members of even my extended family were in the service, so family had little to do with it. Neither did media– I only started watching war documentaries when I was a teenager and rarely sought out media romanticizing the military. Part my motivation was patriotism, but that didn’t explain everything. Somehow, I have always wanted to serve.

When I started high school, I seriously considered enlisting. I wanted a plan when I graduated and college wasn’t a part of it; I knew I wanted to eventually become a lawyer, but I didn’t feel like I was ready to begin that path. The benefits of enlisting and serving for several years seemed then, and still seem today, like a viable option. I spoke with several recruiters and decided I wanted to go into the Navy. It wasn’t until I attended a recruitment meeting at my school that I realized part of my draw to the armed forces– I was the only female in the room.

Even when I identified as a girl, I did whatever I could to make sure people didn’t see me as one. My pants always sagged a little lower than the guy next to me and I made sure to hold eye contact just a second longer. Serving was my trump card– you have a penis? I was in the military. Serving was how I would show everyone that I was man enough even if I wasn’t man at all.

When I started identifying as transgender, I still had no second thoughts about enlisting because I had no intention of physically transitioning. Living as female for a few years was worth it, and I had no intentions of pursuing a relationship that would get me discharged. The chance to prove myself as a man outweighed all inconveniences.

I did, however, have to consider whether enlisting was truly something I wanted to do. Certainly, serving would help prove my masculinity, but there were easier ways. I eventually decided that I wanted to enlist– other benefits aside, I was not ready to go to college and serving would provide me with opportunities that I could not get by taking a year off and getting a job.

I am not serving today because of my parents and my age. When I decided to enlist, I was seventeen and could not do so without consent. My parents were completely opposed to me serving, so I had to wait a year. Somewhere between seventeen and eighteen, I realized that I could not live for any extended period of time as a woman. I was willing to die for my country, but I would not make myself miserable for it.

Sometimes I still think of enlisting. After I transferred schools, I attended an ROTC meeting and thought about it. But I could never legally serve as Keegan and I could never happily serve as Briana so I cannot serve. If the policy on trans people serving were changed, I would definitely consider enlisting but I can accept that not happening on a personal level. My masculinity is not contingent on serving (hell, plenty of feminine people serve) and defending Americans legally is just as patriotic as defending them physically.

Quick Hit: Translating Identities Conference

I am going to be at the Translating Identities Conference in Vermont this weekend. I don’t know any openly transmasculine people offline so I’m pretty excited to be going. If you’ll be there, feel free to say “hey.”

The Translating Identity Conference (TIC) explores a wide array of topics in discourses regarding gender and transgender identities, expressions, communities, and intersections. TIC is a free, student organized, non-profit conference that seeks to reach not only the University of Vermont & the Burlington community, but the nation as a whole. A one-day event, TIC has numerous sessions to choose from at any time that are directed towards people at all levels of inclusion in the trans and allied communities. This conference is a safe space for everyone to come, learn, and enjoy themselves!

Trans Bodies

Potentially triggering.

The first person I came out to was a counselor at school. She forced it out of me, and then followed by asking if I “had male genitalia.” Being a distressed fifteen year old I answered her question, but looking back, the incident makes me feel sick.

A high school counselor asked a fifteen year old student what his genitalia looked like. In any other situation that would be inappropriate at best, but because of my trans status it didn’t even occur to her that there could be anything wrong with it. Disgusting.

Somehow the bodies of trans people have become public property. And even though it’s been extensively blogged about before, it’s different when it happens to you. I feel uncomfortable making comparisons to assault, I don’t know if I have the right, but I can’t help but feel like I was assaulted. I was fifteen, she was in a position of dominance, and I was made to feel uncomfortable because of her actions. I still feel guilty about not doing anything, not standing my ground. And I feel exposed because someone coerced information she had no right to.

I hate how one’s trans status negates any sense of human decency towards him– even kids. I can’t think of the abhorrent words of several KRXQ radio hosts. Or of people who are so enraged by our existence that they are driven to murder. When will others realize that before anything else, we are human beings?

Taking the First Step

I’ve been living in Boston for about a month now. Between having the means to begin therapy and a number of therapist who specialize in gender identity nearby, I’m in the perfect position to start physically transitioning. But it’s been over a month and I still can’t take the first step.

It took me a long time to come out to my last therapist. I agonized over it for months; by the time I actually did it, we had developed a relationship so the task wasn’t as daunting. But now the focus of therapy is gender; I don’t get to build a relationship with my therapist, to feel him out, before I disclose. And further complicating things is the fact that being able to transition is contingent on my therapist’s perception of my identity.

It’s frustrating to have to depend on another person for something that is so important to my well-being. To have to expose myself and hope that the therapist is knowledgable and respectful enough that the experience isn’t troublesome. I don’t do vulnerable or dependance well, so you can see the problem.

Part of the issue is the sense of a loss of control. Between Twitter and this blog, I say a lot of personal things– sometimes uncomfortably personal. But I have control over what I choose to say and I don’t have to worry (as much) about the repurcussions for saying them. If I write that I like to get pedicures and paint my nails, no one’s going to say I’m not man enough to transition. When another person has such control over your future, it’s hard for either party to gain anything from the situation.

As difficult as it is, though, I know I have to do it. Everytime I do the ridiculous dance to get into my binder I am reminded that this can’t continue. But it’s really fucking hard to take that first step.

On Fear

I was linked to a very powerful challenge on YouTube. Aiden is asking trans guys to talk about fears related to transitioning and being trans. The first video is the actual challenge and after it I’ve posted a few of my favorite responses. At the bottom I’ve listed my own fears.

On Death

I was reading the Wikipedia page for Brandon Teena and was struck when I learned that he was buried as “Teena Brandon… daughter, sister, and friend.” I had never considered that my death could be as much a lie as my life.

To an extent, it’s different now. Blogger, Twitter, Facebook, The Men’s Room… I have a presence online that will likely out-live me. Even though the bulk of my offline existence is lived as “Briana,” online I am able to live and make my mark as myself, as Keegan. But for Brandon and for the thousands of other trans people who died before their identity was affirmed, it’s almost like never existing.

It’s frightening to me. If I were to die today, my tombstone would be engraved with my legal name. My birth and death certificates would also bear that name. At my funeral, they would talk of the woman who died. And though that person never existed, she would be memorialized; not me. For my identity to be erased like that is unimaginable. I live with the hope that eventually I will be recognized as myself; to never receive that recognition seems wrong.

I read somewhere, following the murder of Teish Green, that her family was exploring the possibility of a postmortem name change. I think that’s huge. Even if it’s largely symbolic, to be legally recognized as oneself is important.

On Covering

“Everyone covers. To cover is to tone down a disfavored identity to fit into the
main stream. In our diverse society, all of us are outside the mainstream in
some way […] every reader of this book has covered, whether consciously or not,
and sometimes at significant personal cost.”

I recently finished Covering by Kenji Yoshino. The book describes how society pressures minority groups to assimilate into majority culture in three basic ways: conversion, passing, and covering. Writes Yoshino, “If conversion divides ex-gays from gays, and passing divides closeted gays from out gays, covering divides normal from queers.”

Conversion is to change one’s self. To become straight if you are gay. Passing concerns hiding those properties. You may be gay, but you must hide that part of you.
Covering deals more with behavior. You can be gay, you can even engage in gay activities, but you must do it in a way that is not “gay.” Calls for gays to stop “flaunting” their sexuality are demands for covering.

Yoshino writes that covering follows four axies. Appearence deals with how a person physically presents himself; African Americans, for instance, are often eshewed from wearing their hair in natural styles such as dreadlocks or braids. Affiliation deals with cultural identification; a gay man may refuse to discuss gay culture. Activism encompasses one’s political identity; a woman who refuses to identify as a feminist. Finally, association deals with the relationships one forms; a trans person who only has cis friends.

Conversion and passing are considered wrong because they are either impossible or impractical. But covering is seen as a legitimate request because it involves behavior, specifically the behavior of a minority group. Yoshino points out that courts generally side with calls for covering; women are asked to wear (or not wear) make-up because it is their behavior, and not their selves, which is being asked to change.

Yoshino also mentions that not every instance of non-traditional cultural behavior is covering. A gay man who likes sports may simply enjoy sports, such intersts are not inherently acts of covering.

In what ways have you found yourself covering? Both as a transgender person and as a person of your assigned sex (or in some other way). What “covering” behaviors are simply a result of your personality and interests? Did/do you ever wish to convert or feel the pressure to pass?