Earlier this week, my director and I were discussing metaphors for transitioning. I was saying that transitioning is something I’ve mostly been able to acknowledge in retrospect. Everything I did seemed to be in tiny, incremental changes, regardless of how I am able to understand its significance now. And so I come up with a new transitioning metaphor: that of a frog being boiled alive.
Supposedly, if you place a frog in cold water and slowly bring the temperature to a boil, the frog is too stupid to notice and hop out. (Wikipedia says it may be true, if the temperature rise is slow enough.) I’m not saying I was too stupid to notice the transition, but I do stop and wonder sometimes at how different my life is than it was just a few scant years ago.
Ribbit! Ribbit!
Warm and bubbly
A joke response to the following…
“Becca, you’re such a musical theatre dork.”
“Formal clothing for women is so much more light-weight than for men!”
“Your long hair is so beautiful!”
“You have such good skin.”
“So you hate beer and only like fruity drinks?”
Any others y’all can think of?
While researching SRS, I’ve been compiling a list of surgeons in North America. I don’t like admitting it, but going to Thailand (the most common non-NA place I see SRS docs practicing) sort of unnerves me. I like the idea of being somewhere where I understand the culture and can communicate with the staff. Maybe that’s an unreasonable fear (based on the reviews I’m reading of Thai docs, it seems like it is an unreasonable fear) but, at least for now, I’m focusing on North America.
So what have I found? Here’s the list of doctors I’m most actively investigating:
Dr McGinn – Pennsylvania
Dr Bowers – Colorado (but moving to California some time within the next year)
Dr Brassard – Montreal
Continue reading 'Surgeons'»
Extreme tagging
I just went through Facebook and untagged a number of older photos. For those of you who aren’t familiar, “tagging” in Facebook allows you to highlight different people in a photo, so you can more easily search for them. For example, from this past Halloween, a picture of me and my roommates would be tagged as Rebecca, A, and P. So if you clicked on “Rebecca’s Pictures,” it’d show up, as it would for clicking on A or P’s pictures.
“Untagging” lets you remove yourself from pictures where you either aren’t actually present or (more commonly) where you don’t want people to be able to easily say, “Oh, look! It’s _____”
Continue reading 'Untagging Facebook photos'»
To own up to my history outs me as trans and brings up a long stretch of time – the first twenty or so years of my life – that’s at odds with how I see myself now. When I talk with people about Judaism, do I acknowledge my Bar Mitzvah and out myself, or do I say I had a Bat Mitzvah and rewrite part of my life? When a coworker talks about buying suits or ties, do I chime in with memories of my experiences, or do I stay silent? Do I ask my parents to take down pictures from the first two decades of my life? To wipe clean the time before I was 22 or 23? To cover the mirrors which reflect the parts of myself I don’t always want to remember, don’t always want to see?
From Trans Form, my December 2009 show (emphasis added)
Uncovering the Mirrors postcard
My upcoming show is called Uncovering the Mirrors. It’s a reference to the bolded line above, sure, but more broadly it’s a reference to how one holds shiva (a mourning gathering in Judaism): “It is proper to cover the mirrors in the shiva house [because] a mourner is striving to ignore his/her own physicality and vanity in order to concentrate on the reality of being a soul.”
The “mirror” in my performances is a metaphor for something. In Trans Form, it was a metaphor for “the parts of myself I don’t always want to remember.” That is, the “male” parts of me that I was trying to get away from.
The title Uncovering the Mirrors, though, speaks to a desire to not cover up or hide. And so, recently, I’ve been trying to figure out what, exactly, that mirror is.
Continue reading 'What is “The Mirror”?'»
Last night, I went on a bit of an adventure. First, I went to see Queertopia again at About Face. It’s part of their youth theatre program, and is very much worth seeing. I went with some of my high school students (though a bunch who said they were going to come didn’t show up…) and it was great being able to expose my students to very different work that other kids their own ages are doing.
Then, I met up with a friend for her trolley party.
Not a great picture, but undeniable proof of trolley-hood
I’m not totally sure why she was having a trolley party – I think a friend of hers was in from out of town, which is as good an excuse as any – but a bunch of people I knew from Northwestern were also there. One of whom hadn’t seen me since I’d transitioned, and clearly didn’t remember who I was.
Continue reading 'Coming Out Surprises'»
Circumcisions. Bar Mitzvahs. Mourning ceremonies.
My whole life, I have been in search of a way to validate my identity through ceremony and ritual. I recognize the importance of
Some – my circumcision, my Bar Mitzvah – were imposed by a religion and a culture to which I did not voluntarily join. They established my gender as something existing outside of myself, and yet integral to myself: there wasn’t anything I could do to deviate from its course, or reject its structure.
Some were my early own attempts at discovering what worked for me. Burning papers with my male name. Throwing out male clothing. Writing a blog to record my thoughts, feelings, and emotions throughout my transition. Using performance and theatre as a way to tell my story.
Continue reading 'Searching for something that fits'»
While driving to work this morning, someone pulled up along side me at a stoplight and motioned for me to roll down my window. He was gesturing to the back of my car and saying something, and I worried that I had a light out, my trunk was open, or (worst of all) I hadn’t noticed a flat tire.
I rolled down my window and he started talking across the gap between our cars. I couldn’t really hear him over the rain, complicated by his soft voice and foreign accent. I finally understood that he was complimenting me on my bumper stickers. This happens every so often, and I always get a kick out of it. I have a couple dozen bumper stickers on the back of my car, ranging from the political – about Obama or women’s rights – to the silly (“No, I will not fix your computer”). I thanked him, and started to roll my window back up, when he yelled something I heard very clearly:
“Wanna meet up some place?
I rolled up my window, turned back to the light (green, by this time), and sped away.
Continue reading 'The male gaze can jump in a lake'»
A little early, I know
I had brunch with my dad this morning, following our recent issues. Going to brunch was definitely the right thing to do, but I don’t know that I’m happy I went. I certainly don’t feel any better.
We basically talked in circles for an hour. I attempted, once again, to explain why and how his behavior was hurtful for me. Even though I don’t doubt that he loves me, the way we interact still causes me a lot of pain.
And, over and over, he repeated his favorite refrains: “I can’t change what I feel. My feelings are just as valid as yours. You’re asking me to change over night. I had a son for 23 years. I’m trying.”
Continue reading 'When are feelings not valid?'»
Yeah, it's a little cheesey. What do you want from me?
Transitioning, for me, has primarily been an experience of moving away from things. At every stage, I’ve thought about how unhappy I was, not about how things would be better if I did XYZ.
I went into therapy because I was miserable, not because I was particularly sure I could be happy. I went on hormones because presenting and living as male fit me horribly, like an itchy and too-tight outfit, full of pins and needles. Not because I thought I’d succeed as living as a woman. I underwent hair removal because being hairy felt all wrong, not because I thought being smooth would be pleasant.
Fortunately, I was wrong about those things: When I reached whatever minor goal I’d set for myself it was better, not simply “less bad.” But my thought process was still about moving away from things – a false presentation, hiding something, masculinity – not moving toward anything.
I’ve been continuing to think about The Surgery. And I’ve realized that, for the first time in my transition, I’m interesting in moving toward something rather than away.
Continue reading 'Moving toward something?'»
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