It has been too long since I have written, and I apologize for this. I have been working during summer vacation, teaching, attempting to garden and get yard work done, and I enjoyed a 1 week sabbatical in Austin, TX during the third week of June. So, I have been busy, yet honestly not too busy to write.
Since my sabbatical I've spent a lot of time delving into how I present myself to others and the receptions/perceptions I get. While there I was afforded the opportunity to interact with people who did not know me or my history. I went places, had cool experiences, met cool people, and got to spend time with one of my oldest and dearest friends. It was a wonderful time, and I enjoyed nearly every minute of it. Of course, with all things in life, there is no perfect. And while I was there I had to grapple with the changes I have made in my life and what the ripple effects have been over the past 9 years.
Recognition of who you are, who I am, is a form of human validation, of creating realness when we are truly seen and understood. As a transgender individual, recognition of self, can be the difference between life and death, literally. If the crushing weight of living as the wrong self does not cause one to choose suicide, at the very least it can kill one's soul and joy in living. And, sadly, the physical body of a wrong self can become a target of intolerance, abuse, and even fatal violence. Living within and between genders can feel like an isolation, an existence that is devoid of love, understanding, and internal peace. It can be a place of the darkest depression that a soul can bear, and then it can be too much to bear at all.
When one does find a place of hope and at least temporary resolution, anxiety may be lessened, and the desperation within may be quelled for awhile. Discovering resources, other people who have already gone through the process, health care providers, therapists, and accepting friends and families will bring great comfort. When you are given the gift of tolerance, if not acceptance, it can bring a calm that you may have never known.
As the transition process begins and continues, an integration of self will also happen. It is getting the chance to grow up into who you always thought you were. It is a chance to have your body do the right thing, rather than betray you. It is the truth of yourself, your authentic self, at last being recognized by those around you. It is that moment of realness.
Yet, the reality of being transgender is that transition, transitioning from your gender assigned at birth to your target gender doesn't end. You don't finish transition, or truthfully any meaningful form of human growth, until you are done existing on this planet. I have found over the years that most transfolk I know have dealt with this in a similar fashion, often believing in a day when you can say "I have transitioned." But the longer you live in your target gender the more you realize that defining gender for yourself and others becomes a new form of transition.
Simply put, what does gender really mean? What makes a man a man, or a woman a woman? Is it clothing? Is it voice? Is it traits and characteristics? Is it specific responses to, or actions in situations? What is acceptable behavior for a man in your society? How about for a woman? What professions are normative for your newly expressed gender? What things are OK to do, and what things are not? And maybe most importantly, how do you interact with people who knew you prior to transitioning?
And there's the crux of the reflection that I have been doing. When I was on sabbatical I spent time with someone who has been my friend for more than 25 years. She is a woman I hold in high regard, like a sister who has had my back all along, someone who never pulls a punch and tells me when I am being an idiot, who's not afraid to challenge me no matter the cost. She was actually the best "man" in my wedding, and I guess that's a reflection of the relationship we've always had. It has never been dependent on gender, gender stereotypes, social norms, or even chronological years. It has been a relationship of deep connection, one that is so wholly platonic that it is often perceived by others as one of brother and sister.
And, for all that, there is a gendered society that sees a more emotionally intimate relationship between a married man (me) and a married woman (her) as something suspicious. And this is what I have been grappling with, the fact that I, despite the 30 years of life experience as a female, and an anatomy that betrays my maleness, am now seen as a man in all settings. And it's something that I have not entirely chosen to do.
Yes, I choose to live as a man in my day to day life, particularly at work, but even there most of my colleagues know that I have gone through a gender transition and respect me for who I am. So, even in my professional world there is an understanding that I am not a typical male, rather, I am one with a great insight into my female coworkers's life experiences. I am known for being capable and willing to listen to details of their lives that most men neither want to hear about, nor care to have to deal with. Frankly, were it not for being married and having 2 sons, I believe that most people would assume I'm gay, and that I hang out with "the girls" because of that. I have never had a husband of a coworker, confront me, or be concerned about my interactions with their wives. Even the husbands of the baseball/basketball/soccer moms I hang out with at games have never come to me with a problem.
Honestly, the refrain I hear most often is "That's just Arin." And though I could certainly take this as an insult to my maleness, I don't. For me it's more of an affirmation that I am Arin a being that is not within the binary normative of gender identity. I am a category unto myself, a gender that is defined by me, not by external factors that may or may not reflect my values and beliefs. For lack of a better term, I am an Arin, a person who stands between and within the genders.
Yet, what does that mean when I am in new and different situations where my personal story of transgender is not the focus of my interactions with people? What does it mean for me to be a real man as I navigate the murky waters of acceptable and unacceptable behaviors in my life? Who am I to other people, and does it really matter?
The answer is that I'm not sure who I am perceived to be by other people, but, whether I like it or not, it does matter. Every day it matters to those who serve me my coffee, who fill my grocery bags, who meet me at the post office, who work with me, who go to church with me, who love me. It matters because it determines exactly how I will be treated in each and every situation in my life. It matters to everyone around me, because we are a gendered society that starts with pink and blue blankets, and we work our way up to suits and skirts. It is as superficial as our clothing, and it is as horrifying as the difference between physical violence vs sexual violence. To break someone's nose, or to brutally rape them? Are they man or woman? The answer too often determines the outcome.
So, here I am, an Arin, stuck between my head and my heart. I am a man through and through. I am a real man. And I am also a man who knows what it's like to be treated as a woman. I am a man who has lived in two bodies, and experienced the fear of one, and the power of the other. And so I choose to live in the space between. I choose to share my life as an example of what can go right when you find your real self, of what can go wrong, and of what you can learn.
What has gone wrong? I have confessed my truths to those who have turned against me because of them. I have withheld my truths for fear of being hurt. I have omitted and hidden parts of myself, my life, my history in order to protect people who didn't need protection. And I have lived in fear that my secrets might cost me everything.
What has gone right? I am still alive. I am happy. I am at peace with who I am. I can look in the mirror and see the person I have always known was in there. And I am myself, the real me, less afraid to step out and participate what is around me. I have a family, friends, coworkers, providers, and therapists who treat me with dignity, respect, and love.
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| A real man. |
At the end of the day, I go to bed, a man, a real man, a real transgender man, and hopefully a better man. If I am present on my journey, then I am capable of being who G-d continues to call me to be, no matter what or who that looks like.
Thank you for asking the questions that I cannot always answer on my journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
- Ari
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