He is a man. I am a woman. Together we are queer.

I just want to report that this weekend, A. and I went to a lesbian event together. I should said A., I and his beard attended a woman's event. I checked with the organizer and everyone was cool. It was a

HRC logo (I'm borrowing)

fundraiser as well. (Human Rights Campaign). Did people give us you know, the *look*?  A little. But I think they were more concerned about my woefully out-of-fashioned jeans (which I still rocked) than anything. Actually, I don't think anyone gave us funny looks because of who we were. I felt my usual social awkwardness (nothing to do with our status and noted that some of the women ignored me, but I'm pretty sure they were looking for dates or maybe I was just boring. In other words, it was no big deal. And I bet if someone had taken a poll, no one really would have cared that there were men there (including at least one transman). He's part of our community now. Cool. That's the thing: I never wanted to suggest that A. is still a woman. I just am suggesting that there's a special case for transmen who are with women who identify as queer. If a transguy is straight and with a heterosexual woman, he probably won't want to attend lesbian events. But finding a home somewhere in the queer community is really important to me—and to him. So thank you women and thank you HRC.

Gendercops beware: you've been infiltrated

Many  people who read my post here, at helen boyd's post here and here, and John Aravosis' post here (HUGE thanks to these two by the way) seemed to read something like this: OMG a dude wants to break into our women's space! And he's a not just a dude. He's a straight dude who has ton's of places where he can hang with his girl.

Art courtesy of Samir Luther

Be grateful he's transitioned and move the fuck on. He's not a lesbian anymore. Get out of our women's only space and stop being so damned selfish and ruining it for all of us who need that space. 

Um, I'm paraphrasing and in some cases exaggerating, but that was the sentiment. 

So what about that response bugs me?

Beyond the obvious (calling me selfish, etc.) was the more subtle. When I wrote that blog post, I was trying to express how I, the lesbian PARTNER of a trans guy, was feeling about being cut off from my community. It hurt. It hurt way worse than I could ever have imagined.

But most folks addressed the issue as if my transman was the one banging on the door. Don't get me wrong: he was upset that a community he's been a part of and supported for decades simply gave him the boot. (Not to mention that while it was NOT a PFLAG even, it was raising money for that organization). But I was trying to explain how being a partner of someone who has transitioned is very tricky. In some ways, his sudden visibility means that part of me is suddenly invisible (my gay part) He's well-aware of this tradeoff. And I'm not upset with him. It's hard for me but I absolutely want him to be authentic. He's a much better person for it. It's no one's fault. It's the way it is. 

But it's absurd to say he's no longer part of a community because he's suddenly visible.

Which leads me to the second point: he did not suddenly become a man. He simply chose to honor who he's always been and bravely transition medically so that his insides and his outsides match.  A. has ALWAYS been a man. Since birth. He's just always been stuck in the wrong body. (I'm not speaking for all transgendered people. God knows, I'm not expert. I just know our experience.) Which means, you know what? That, he, a MAN has been attending lesbian events for YEARS. He just didn't have a male appearance back them. So he already infiltrated. 

But it was cool, right? Because he looked like a woman. And you know what? I know for certain he wasn't and isn't the only one. I didn't go to the dance, but I'd put all my money on the fact that there were a few female-appearing folks there who really were men.

What I'm saying is that these spaces that proclaim to be for women only have been one big illusion.

Splitting hairs, am I?

Think about it. 

Now that I understand gender a lot better than I did even a year ago. I get it. Just because you look like you're a woman, doesn't mean you are. Just because you look like a man doesn't mean you are either. In fact, many people do not fall on this binary scale of gender. Genderqueer, asexual... etc. Even Facebook gets that. So this idea that you can throw a single-sex event is kind of antiquated. 

But let's say you're cool with people simply identifying as male or female and choosing it for themselves. Fine. How the hell are you going to enforce it?

Are you going to tell that super butch looking person who is packing but appears to have breasts somewhere under that binding and plaid button-down and speaks in a lowish voice that she (or is it he?) is not welcome? What about that woman who has visible beard stubble, an Adam's apple and sounds little like Johnny Cash? Are you going to tell her she's not welcome?And hell, what do you do with that person who walks into the door and looks, well like both genders... or neither one? 

To those who tell us that A. and I are now a straight couple and we have plenty of places to go where we're welcomed, I'm tempted to give the big fat middle finger. But I'm trying to have a rational conversation here (even if it's just one way). So I'll say this. We are NOT a straight couple. That's the whole point! I'm basically a lesbian and my partner is a transman who had found a home in the lesbian world for many years. Do you really think that we'd be at home in a straight world where the price of admission would be to stay in the closet about who we really were, lest we offend someone, or godforbid, make someone feel uncomfortable? Or worse? Think this through, people: let's go with it. A and I go to a dance. It's straight. We dance. We have a great time. We meet lots of wonderful straight couples. We make friends. Then in conversation I slip and call A. "she" because it happens. They figure it out. And maybe they're not such nice people. Maybe they're offended that we basically deceived them. Maybe they just don't like queers. Maybe they decide to beat the shit out of A. to prove a point. Maybe.Yeah, we'd feel so welcome at that place. Thanks lesbians. 

When you tell us to stay out of your community, you're actually telling us: go back into the closet and please for goddsake, stop making us feel so uncomfortable. Because that was the reason given to us for staying away: seeing a person who looked like a woman dancing with a person who looked like a man would make women feel uncomfortable. Because obviously that's a really good reason for exclusion. We all know that we should never offend.

Yeah, I'm pissed. Because I thought of all the people I know, lesbians, who have been oppressed, mistaken for straight and dealt with narrow-minded shit their whole likes —at least they'd understand what it's like to be excluded, to be shunned, to be told they're something that they're not, to be excluded. Many do, but many don't. 

One person who I considered to be an expert on the topic (well more than one) told me that hey, this wasn't a lesbian-only dance. This was a woman-only space and that straight women were welcome. And even *they* couldn't bring their partners. To that I say bullshit. Two things: if a straight woman is attending an all-woman's dance on Valentine's day, she either isn't really straight or doesn't have a date. A straight woman who is dating a straight man really does have many places she can attend while being completely authentically herself. So she's choosing to hang out in a mostly-lesbian environment. Good for her. I'm happy for her. But that doesn't mean that a LESBIAN who is dating a MAN who used to identify as LESBIAN has those same options. 

Get real. 

And to those people who say, hey, cool your partner is passing and is a man and go celebrate at a straight bar of your choosing, I also say, what about me? There I said it. What about me? I'm not straight.

So yeah, I'm not going to drop this.

I'm fine if you disagree with me. But I ask you to do so intelligently. I.E. calling me selfish and other names is not intelligent. Give me a good argument. 

For those who tell me there are plenty of openly gay places that will welcome you, I say THANK YOU. This isn't about us, personally, having a place to go. I'm blessed to have amazing friends and family (queer, straight, etc.) who love us and have accepted these changes gracefully. I have attended gay spaces where we've been completely welcomed. 

So this really isn't about me personally wanting to find a space. But it is about wanting people to think a little more deeply about this issue. What's female? What's male? What's inclusive.

Bottom line, hang out with whomever you want. That's the beauty of a free society. But when you open your doors to the public, when you raise money for an inclusive organization, it's just not cool any more.

Should I come out??

Photo by sonofabike via Flickr

I've been laying low on the blog a little bit. That's not because I'm not into blogging. But I sort of reached transition overload. You know? When people ask me, "Hey! Whachu been up to and my response is my partner's transition... " I know it's time to take a break. Besides, R. (now A.) is in a good place. He had his surgery, is sporting new muscles along with body hair (if T didn't make your voice change and add hair I'd be on it) and is generally happier. So it's kind of been my turn to you know, quietly freak out a little, not necessarily put on my I'm-supportive-no-matter-what-face and just be. Those of you who know me also know that I've had my own health issues. Without getting into it, I had a little scare that made me think: hmmm. I need to focus on my own bad self for awhile. So that's what's going on. And frankly, processing is tiring. Like it would be easier with scotch, except I'm not drinking now.

And notice I'm giving more details? (Yes, I'm fully aware that if someone for some reason wanted to ID me, they could).  I'm just about ready to come out and be public. And guess what? I'm thinking most people will be like, eh. Oh, that's cool but no biggie.
So should I come out? Does it matter?

That thing between your legs

As soon as I tell you that my partner's transitioning I know exactly what you're thinking: You are thinking Dick. You know --  Cock, penis, junk -- whatever you call the thing that dangles between most dudes legs. Because in the world we live in the thing that's the thing that separates men from women. Right? 

Photo by Mid-Century Pretty via of Flickr

And you want to ask, right? Sometimes you do. But guess what? It may be rude, but I don't really want to talk about it. It isn't my place. And really, I don't really want to talk to most people about their sexual organs. (There are some with whom I have had in-depth discussions but the operative word here is "most." 

I know that most dudes have penises and most women have vaginas. Right? And that's just fine. Do we really need to discuss it? 

It reminds me of the days long ago: there was a time when I would come out to people and they'd ask, hey, like how do you do it? What kind of sex do you have? Seriously. Now they don't. Because guess what? Being gay is ordinary. Boring, even. 

And as Chaz Bono and many others have said, it's about what's between your ears and not what's between your legs. Trust me, once you live with a trans person, you get this. R is a dude. Plain and simple. Maybe he's a special dude -- an FTM dude. But trust me. He thinks like a dude. He acts like a dude. He talks like a dude. And now he's starting to look like one too. 

Top surgery and beyond

It's been nearly a month since I posted. And I can tell you the reason I haven't posted hasn't been because life has been boring. Quite the opposite. So much has happened it's almost impossible to catch up. So obviously I'm not going to take you through every nuance.  But I will give you the one big highlight: since I last wrote, R  had top surgery.

Yep. It happened.

I have so many mixed feelings about this that I don't even know where to begin. I feel like I should be writing something meaningful but it's almost too close to the bone. You know what I mean? No pun intended.

On the one hand I'm very excited for him. It's actually kind of a relief that he's never expressed any hesitance about going through with the surgery. If it were me, I would feel very mixed. I mean it is surgery. But it's altering your basic architecture.

And yes–I get it. That's the whole point. I'm actually really proud and impressed with R. He did it. It was brave. It was courageous. And it was actually extremely self-loving. And God knows, we all need to give ourselves love.

On that level, he's actually been a role model for me. I'm typically female in respect to needs. Like a lot of girls, I was also raised to put other people's needs before my own. I don't always do them mind you. In fact, I think it can actually make one quite selfish. But I'm learning at my late age to put my needs first. It's actually healthy.

And that means that I get to react to the surgery. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it, but it hasn't been all positive. I feel like a bit of a traitor for writing this here. But I'm going to do it anyhow in deference to the fact that I've said I would tell the truth. Let's just say it's been difficult. It's not that I'm so into breasts that I can't live without them (although certainly I would want to.) I think it's more about being with someone who is essentially altering who they are. And yes–I know that R  is simply becoming who he is on the inside. In other words, he's always been a man. He's just had the great misfortune (and I mean that sincerely) of having been born into a female body.

But I'm still allowed to react, right?  (I'm telling myself this) This is where I'm having difficulty. Because intellectually, I absolutely love what he's doing. I admire it and I respect it, as I said before.  But it's major. I guess the whole top surgery thing–well that's the point of no return. His voice seems to get lower every day. His muscles grow. And his beard gets thicker. And then there is the hair.  and actually I don't mind any of these changes. Some of them I actually like.  But I have to tell you it's really weird to watch this transformation.

 But I will save that for another day–look forward to the post titled, living with a grown adolescent.

So  if anyone is still reading, thanks for the support. I really appreciate it.