Transsexual Apologetic
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. | I'm a transsexual. Now let's move on.
Of course, it's not quite that simple. Almost, but not quite. For me, it was never about being a trannie. That was always just a means to an end, not the end itself. What I really want to do is direct. Just kidding. So then, am I a-woman-trapped-in-a-man's-body? HAHAHAHAHA ... that's a good one. I'm as likely an iguana trapped in a woodchuck, or a clam trapped in a trout, or a gay guy trapped in Richard Simmons (okay, ignore that last one ...) If you're the type of person who has to feel/smell/see/hear/taste something before it's real, please feel free to ignore this next paragraph. In fact, you might as well stop reading now, 'cause darlin', you and I are playin' with two different sets of Mah Jongg tiles. I'm not "trapped" in anything. I'm a "transcendent transsexual." Make that a "resplendent transcendent transsexual." My own transsexuality has little to do with sex, and everything to do with spirit. I've lived before, no question in my mind ... or more accurately, in my soul. I've been a woman. I've been a man. I've been black, Chinese, rich and poor, brilliant and stupid, weak and strong. What's the best pathway to take me to my next spiritual level? Whatever it is, that's the ride for which God buys the ticket. In this case, I was chosen to walk a challenging gauntlet of social reprobation and discrimination. Humility's a bitch. If you and Spirit are on speaking terms, you already know why it's pointless to denigrate anyone because of sexuality, or ethnicity, or anything else someone is: because you've been all those things yourself. Which is not to say you can't disagree with what someone believes. That's altogether different. (And for the record, homosexuality is something you are...) I reject the spiritual limitations of a physical form, perhaps due to a lingering awareness of pre-natal identity. My soul has no gender; on many levels, neither do I. My identification with a more nurturing, supportive and gentle spirit has led me to embrace and manifest my female energy. It ain't about the high heels and the purse, it's about the warmth and the love. But you know what they say: You put 100 monkeys in a room with 100 typewriters, you're gonna get 100 different stories. Transsexuals aren't a homogenous lump driven by identical motivation to alter our nasties. Some Ts are driven by the erogenous stimulation of female clothing. Some thrive on the political ramifications of transsexual oppression and man (woman?) the ramparts in high-profile trannie positions; others prefer to become as invisible as a 5'11" girl can be. All I can speak of with authority is my own individual journey. A metaphor that may help toward a better understanding of my particular motivation involves the workplace. Say you've been employed by your firm for a number of years. You've been appropriately promoted to different and higher positions during your lengthy tenure, but your job and the company's product have remained pretty much the same over the years. One day you look around and realize -- though nothing's wrong exactly -- you've probably learned or contributed all you can to the company or the product. That's when you're faced with a choice. You can stay, and accept a complacent mediocrity until retirement. Or you can leave for greener pastures, not knowing exactly what you'll find, but knowing whatever it is, it'll be exciting. And the latter choice packs the tantalizing promise that your soul will keep growing through new and different challenges. I chose #2, "Greener Pastures." It was time for me to shift, to shed the old skin ... to grow. I'd done the male thing -- pretty well actually -- but had taken it as far as I could. Or maybe, simply as far as I'd wanted to. The impulses for gender transition were always within me -- it was my #1 childhood fantasy -- but I never conceived that I could, or would, actually go through with it. After more than four years post-transition, I can report the adventure has been my most ecstatic dream, and my worst nightmare. All my family members and friends have left or rejected me; immediately after my transition I held four jobs in two years; I had to leave my previous work as a live musical performer due to relentless discrimination; and I filed bankruptcy. But after all this time at my new "job" of being a woman, I'm getting the hang of it (or maybe, the "non-hang" of it?...) I no longer cause a ruckus when I enter a room, and these days most people usually don't suspect something is unique with my gender presentation or heritage. After all this time, "passing" is becoming irrelevant. I have become this new person. It's no longer a mask for an alternate personality; it's me. I envisioned Kelli McAllister; next I created her; finally, I became her. Sure, I remember that "other" guy I used to be (trannies are a little sensitive about our former names and identities, probably because it vaguely undermines our current authenticity). But I remember him the same way I remember second grade: I know I attended, but it has so little to do with my current reality. It helped make me what I am; that's all. I have no problem discussing trannie topics, so feel free to send e-mail on this or any other subject and I'll try to respond whenever possible. Everyone's favorite T-Girl,
HELPFUL TRANSSEXUAL "DON'TS": 1. Out of respect to my worldwide T sisters and brothers, the question about whether one of us has had "the surgery" shouldn't be asked and shouldn't be answered. I can't imagine when a pussy or wanker question is ever socially acceptable. Why then is it acceptable to ask a transsexual? I personally recall my fear and humiliation when a local cop spent 15 minutes during a routine traffic stop interrogating me about my vagina (or penis). You'll be pleased to learn my formal complaint against that bullshit was ultimately upheld by a detective's internal investigation. By gracing such an invasive query with a response, trannies are automatically accepting the role of Gender Nigger. That's a role we must never accept. Besides, the question itself implies an endorsement of the very gender bipolarity we've already rejected. Unless you wanna play tootsies with my tata, what difference can it make? 2. Transsexuals usually hate the term "she-male" (though crossdressers usually like it). After so many years of medical and pharmaceutical transformation, I've earned the right to be respected and addressed as a woman. I sacrificed everything ... everything ... for the sake of an "s" in front of that little two-letter pronoun "he." 3. Don't assume we have no thoughts, no life, no agenda outside of transsexual issues. In the first year or so of transition that may be true, but eventually we get all that out of our system and want -- need -- to move on. Non-Ts simply can't imagine they'd have anything in common with us, so we usually don't get invited to lunch with the girls or the guys; we're sitting at home on a Friday night; our phone doesn't ring. In other words, we don't get to join in any reindeer games. This gender journey can be a lonely road, and it needn't be. Other historical cultures have embraced those special rare souls in the tribe who simultaneously carry the Yin and Yang spirit. Unfortunately, our Puritanical American ancestors continue to maintain a formidable and judgmental presence even into this 21st century. Bottom line: Treat all people, even we Special Girls and Boys, with respect and dignity. You'll do fine.
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