Transitioning with Me

I am continually amazed by my parents. Certainly I am amazed at the unconditional love they have shown me starting with a young, introverted tom-boy, to a butch lesbian and then to a transgendered son. What continues to be remarkable is that they have not stopped telling their story. A few months ago their church presented a symposium on GLBT folks in the church. On Sunday the told our story--my transition and their journey with me. I could say more but in this case they can speak for themselves. Below is a link to their story.

http://thespiritspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-27-from-elizabeth-to-eli-made-in.html

You need to walk more.

Anna and I were out at a plant nursery outside of Philly near Chester. This wasn't any sort of "boutique nursery" but a place where people go to buy plants. As we were selecting our purchases the woman working there tapped my stomach and said "you're eating well." I said Anna was cooking well and thinking it was just a conversation starter--an odd one, but still. She then told me to walk more and that I was too young. I said I would and moved on. Anna spent the rest of the time there worried she'd say something to her, but she never did. Instead she said it again as we were checking out and then as we were leaving. I don't know why, but she wouldn't let it go. I told her I rode a bike to work and that seemed to appease her a bit.

It's not the first time an elderly person has told me to loose a few. Still, it struck me that she never would have said that to me were I still a woman. To a woman, Fat is a dirty, shameful word. To a man it's a beer belly, a spare tire, something to take care of but not something to be ashamed of--though this isn't always how it feels. Still, I didn't get that same feeling of all the blood rushing to my face that I used to get when someone even seemed to reference my weight as a woman. I didn't trip over my words or feel like crying. Over the past 5 years some of the shame had left.
I don't know what all of this means, but I do know that fat is definitely a feminist issue. Women's clothing is Plus Size, men's suits are Executive Cut. The tone, the shame, the descriptors, they all change from woman to man.

I don't have any answers, but maybe these folks will. Check out Front Street on May 5 where they will talk about the question "Is Fat a Feminist Issue." They include some pretty smart folk so there will probably be some really good questions. I can't guarantee any answers.

SURROUND SOUND
FOR THE
UNDERGROUND.
http://saramccool.com/frontstreet.html

http://www.ustream.tv/channel/front-street

Front Street is a talk show showcasing current culture and politics in Chicago, hosted by Sara McCool. Guests will include local artists and social critics.

Episode "Is Fat a Feminist Issue?" This Thursday 5/5 at 7:30 -8:30pm CST.

Investing

About 6 or 7 years ago, before or very early on in my transition, I went to a queer conference at Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies at the City University of New York. Between lectures I was standing alone in the lobby and a older butch dyke walked up to me. We had never met, but I had seen her at a conference I had attended previously. She looked at me, perhaps made a little small talk, and told me she had something for me. She asked for my address.

A month or so later a box arrived in the mail. It was full of neck ties and a short note that said something to the effect of "I thought you might like these." No name, no return address. This small gesture may have simply been an attempt on this butches part to clean out her closet, but to me it was the act of a queer mentor I had never had before. It was someone taking me aside, telling me they knew what it was like, and offering a bit of hope the only way she knew how.

I am wearing one of those ties today. I still have no idea who this woman is, but I think about her every time I open my closet. We never know where our mentors will come from, and now, as I grow a little older, I think about how I never know whose life I am going to touch. I have a lot of ties I don't need and I am sure that young queer is out there. If it's you, let me know.

Getting Better

The world is (rightfully) having a strong reaction to the wave of gay suicides and general bullying going on. There is Dan Savage's new "It Gets Better" campaign which seem to be getting lots of the attention. I certainly appreciate the waves of people coming forward and am thrilled with how many un-famous, totally normal people are participating. Regardless of my opinion on the project I think there is always value in queer people telling our stories.

Still, if I had seen these movies when I was in high school I wonder if it would have made a difference. Would they have calmed me, given me hope? A part of me thinks that this future these people are describing would seem so far away, so remote that although I would have greatly valued seeing positive images of queer adults, it would have been very hard to imagine my life ever being like theirs. I was too busy trying to figure out what I was to imagine any day beyond tomorrow.

I am more interested in the world getting better, and getting better now. I, like so many It Gets Better videos, could tell you about how I grew up in a small, religiously conservative town in the mid-west. I could tell you about the boy who wore a "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" shirt to school. Or the one who wrote his research paper for Advanced Composition on how gays should not be in the military. He defended his position by stating that gay soldiers could get shot and bleed on not gay soldiers and give them AIDS. I know I probably would have been harassed or beaten up if I had come out at Holland Christian High School as a lesbian, or, heaven forbid, as a trans man. And I could tell you about how I have transitioned, moved to a large urban area, have friends that like me for myself and a fiancé who loves me for the person I am, but in this case I'm going to lay off the personal and talk about the world.

The world is changing--and its changing fast. My sister is 6 years younger than me. By the time she was in high school her friends knew I was queer and thought it was "cool." I was a groomsman in her wedding and walked down the aisle with one of her high school friends in front of many people who 10 years ago would rail against the evils of homosexuality. I thought all this was amazing, but I was blown away when I saw the story of Oak Read.

Oak is a senior at Mona Shores High School in Muskegon, MI. Muskegon, though larger than Holland, is still in Michigan. I remember playing Mona Shores in sports matches as a student. There wasn't much remarkable about the students, but now I will never forget them. The students of Mona Shores High School voted Oak Reed, a pre-op FTM, to be their Homecoming King. The school then stripped him of that title claiming he couldn't be Homecoming King because he was registered at the school as a female. The students revolted, starting a Facebook campaign in support of him (which, by the way, has over 12,000 members). These students, in my mind, are doing more to make queer teens feel safe than 100 videos by Tim Gunn could ever do.

The world is changing. People are changing. Some more slowly than others, but they are changing. As adults we need to keep telling our stories, as parents we need to teach our kids to love everyone, as allies we need to create a safe space for queer youth to be loved unconditionally. But, to all the young people out there--take a lesson from Mona Shores Students. It's getting better. It will continue to get better. And when history is written this is not an issue you will want to be on the wrong side of. Stand up for someone so they don't have to stand alone. It could change the world, or at least someone's world.

It's getting better

The world is (rightfully) having a strong reaction to the wave of gay suicides and general bullying going on. There is Dan Savage's new "It Gets Better" campaign which seem to be getting lots of the attention. I certainly appreciate the waves of people coming forward and am thrilled with how many un-famous, totally normal people are participating. Regardless of my opinion on the project I think there is always value in queer people telling our stories.

Still, if I had seen these movies when I was in high school I wonder if it would have made a difference. Would they have calmed me, given me hope? A part of me thinks that this future these people are describing would seem so far away, so remote that although I would have greatly valued seeing positive images of queer adults, it would have been very hard to imagine my life ever being like theirs. I was too busy trying to figure out what I was to imagine any day beyond tomorrow.

I am more interested in the world getting better, and getting better now. I, like so many It Gets Better videos, could tell you about how I grew up in a small, religiously conservative town in the mid-west. I could tell you about the boy who wore a "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" shirt to school. Or the one who wrote his research paper for Advanced Composition on how gays should not be in the military. He defended his position by stating that gay soldiers could get shot and bleed on not gay soldiers and give them AIDS. I know I probably would have been harassed or beaten up if I had come out at Holland Christian High School as a lesbian, or, heaven forbid, as a trans man. And I could tell you about how I have transitioned, moved to a large urban area, have friends that like me for myself and a fiancé who loves me for the person I am, but in this case I'm going to lay off the personal and talk about the world.

The world is changing--and its changing fast. My sister is 6 years younger than me. By the time she was in high school her friends knew I was queer and thought it was "cool." I was a groomsman in her wedding and walked down the aisle with one of her high school friends in front of many people who 10 years ago would rail against the evils of homosexuality. I thought all this was amazing, but I was blown away when I saw the story of Oak Read.

Oak is a senior at Mona Shores High School in Muskegon, MI. Muskegon, though larger than Holland, is still in Michigan. I remember playing Mona Shores in sports matches as a student. There wasn't much remarkable about the students, but now I will never forget them. The students of Mona Shores High School voted Oak Reed, a pre-op FTM, to be their Homecoming King. The school then stripped him of that title claiming he couldn't be Homecoming King because he was registered at the school as a female. The students revolted, starting a Facebook campaign in support of him. These students, in my mind, are doing more to make queer teens feel safe than 100 videos by Tim Gunn could ever do.

The world is changing. People are changing. Some more slowly than others, but they are changing. As adults we need to keep telling our stories, as parents we need to teach our kids to love everyone, as allies we need to create a safe space for queer youth to be loved unconditionally. But, to all the young people out there--take a lesson from Mona Shores Students. It's getting better. It will continue to get better. And when history is written this is not an issue you will want to be on the wrong side of. Stand up for someone so they don't have to stand alone. It could change the world, or at least someone's world.

Coming Together

My last post was a bit of a love letter about the project Embodiment: A Portrait of Queer Art In America. This past weekend I had the opportunity to participate in another great photo project by L. Weingarten called A Series of Questions. In his own words:

This ongoing body of work explores the power dynamics inherent in the questions asked of transgender, transsexual, genderqueer, gender non-conforming, and gender-variant people.

Many documentary photographic projects that deal with trans issues exploit the genders of their subjects, pointing to an "otherness" or inappropriately exoticizing their bodies. A Series of Questions seeks instead to make visible the transphobia and gender-baiting that can become part of everyday interactions and lives, forming a fuller picture of the various lived experiences. In so doing, this work contrasts with the dehumanizing approaches that predominate the images made of transgender, transsexual, genderqueer, gender non-conforming, and gender-variant people, which often focus solely on their gender or trans status, or use them to further a specific point about social construction and gender.

I was drawn to this project for the way it exposes the level of invasion trans people experience on a day to day basis. Strangers asking questions about our bodies and relationships that they would never ask anyone other than perhaps a very close friend. By turning the very personal questions outwards, the public is forced to grapple with what these questions mean and how uncomfortable they can make us.

The only other person I had modeled for in this intimate sort of way was Molly, and we had known each other for a long time prior. I was a little apprehensive about what it would be like with a stranger. Being photographed can be a really intimate experience. Good photos and photographers ask you to expose a lot of yourself. To truly participate I knew I needed to bring that to the table. The experience ended up being wonderful. We went to a park in deep South Philly (not necessarily known for it's queer friendliness) and although we got a number of stares I always felt comfortable, protected and safe. (Anyone who would like to participate in this project should contact the artist.)

The experience reminded me how great it is that there are a number of projects that are focusing on queer communities--projects looking beyond ourselves and trying to capture our worlds. Aside from us as queer people taking control of own representation, I love how these projects are forming bonds within our communities that otherwise never would have been there. I am able to meet artists and models and through my being photographed I have a shared experience with countless others.

I've noted before that transitioning is a very isolating experience. We transition (some of us more publicly than others) we feel awkward and uncomfortable and lonely and lost. Then we begin to pass and, for some of us, we're so relieved that we just want to be left alone. This happened to me and being left alone was fine, until I realized I was alone. Not literally alone, not unsupported--I had great friends, a wonderful family and an amazing partner. I just didn't have that same group around me that seemed to come out of nowhere when I moved to college and really came out publicly as a dyke.

Part of this is certainly a change in life circumstances. I don't want to go out to a street fair, get wasted and look at at people. (All those things are great, but I'm partnered and too old. I prefer to sit and get wasted in a darkened bar or my living room.) I've met other trans guys, many of whom I like a lot, but for what ever reason our paths don't cross on a regular basis and I don't feel that sense of connection.

These projects make me feel a little more connected, they help us all be part of one big picture. I recognize names, I recognize faces, I recognize people. We are making our own culture and we are beginning to do it smartly, consciously and, most importantly, we are doing it together.

The Chance to Change Everything

About 10 years ago, while studying abroad in Glasgow, Scotland, I met a wee lil' dyke named Molly. We hit it off right away. She always had her camera over her shoulder and documented many of the crazy times and personalities that mixed together to make an unforgettable year.

We stayed in touch for a while but over time lost track of each other. I never forgot her spirit or her work. When I was in New York working on my MFA I began to wonder whatever happened to her. Using the magic of Google I learned that she was also in New York getting her MFA at SVA. Our paths had crossed again and I couldn't be more pleased. We managed to find each other right as she was beginning to flush out a new project photographing queer youth. I'd been photographed by Molly before and was happy to participate again. She showed up at my apartment while I was hanging new curtains. I was wearing pajama pants, a white t-shirt, bunny slippers and a tool belt. She dug in my closet, found the perfect outfit (which still included the bunny slippers), helped me bind my breasts, gel my Mohawk and for the first time in a long time I felt happy in my body.

One peek at my facebook pictures and it becomes pretty evident that I'm not always aware of my face when I'm being photographed. Somehow Molly goes beyond the face and finds the strength, vulnerability, power, hope and pride in a person. She can find that part that's been beaten down to the point that you think it's lost. Just when you're ready to give up on it you hear "Stop! Don't move. Right there."

These photos are more than great pictures that you want to show your friends, they are more than the perfect head shot. They are a window into a world that is often forgotten. Instead of categorizing and dividing us into small groups--butch, femme, trans, bears, fat, thin, dyke, lesbian, gay, southern, east coast, west coast, leather, religious, etc--this project brings us all together into one beautiful, powerful force. A force that covers every inch of this country and has the chance to change everything. This project is more than a project, it is a movement. A movement with the chance to change everything.

There are very few things that I feel this passionately about, but, my friends, even if it's only $5 put it towards something more lasting than a beer. Its not often that your money has the chance to change the life of both a young queer in Iowa, and every queer in the country. But don't take my word for it. Watch the trailer below.