This piece was originally posted at In Our Words, and is reposted with permission.
The last few weeks have seen a rush of stories about Obama’s childhood nanny, a transgender woman named Evie. Evie was Obama’s nanny for two years, although she was presenting as male at the time. Beginning with the AP story on March 5, “Obama’s transgender ex-nanny outcast,” the story quickly made the rounds–from American news outlets to the UK, New Zealand, Turkey, and beyond. Here’s the start of the original AP story:
“Once, long ago, Evie looked after “Barry” Obama, the kid who would grow up to become the world’s most powerful man. Now, his transgender former nanny has given up her tight, flowery dresses, her brocade vest and her bras, and is living in fear on Indonesia’s streets.
Evie, who was born a man but believes she is really a woman, has endured a lifetime of taunts and beatings because of her identity. She describes how soldiers once shaved her long, black hair to the scalp and smashed out glowing cigarettes onto her hands and arms.
The turning point came when she found a transgender friend’s bloated body floating in a backed-up sewage canal two decades ago. She grabbed all her girlie clothes in her arms and stuffed them into two big boxes. Half-used lipstick, powder, eye makeup — she gave them all away.”
For the most part, the coverage has been respectful. I don’t love the phrase “was born a man but believes she is really a woman” as a definition for transgender, but I do like that the article consistently uses proper names and pronouns. Likewise, while the piece is primarily a human interest story, it also uses Evie’s story to highlight the poor treatment trans people receive in Indonesia. Of course, not every piece was so respectful. TurkishPress.com seemed to go out of their way to use “he” and a male name. However, that type of coverage seemed to be in the minority and there’s now also coverage on the coverage, with followup stories discussing how the AP story has brought celebrity to Evie. I hope that celebrity will bring some money and better living conditions. Continue reading 'Barry and Evie: Obama on Trans Issues'»
I’m sitting in Terminal 3 at O’Hare Airport in Chicago, waiting for my flight to San Francisco. I’m going to visit family and to have a surgery consult with Dr Bowers. Prepping for the trip, I thought through how I would handle the new TSA “Advanced Imaging Technology” (AIT) scanners. Ignoring potential health concerns and the fact that they don’t work to increase security, I’m concerned as a trans person. As someone who, as I’ve joke before, is attempting to smuggle a penis through airport security.
I talked about the TSA last year, while at the National Center for Transgender Equality’s conference on trans issues. The post discussed how the TSA was handling trans travelers, and they deserve credit for appearing at the conference at all. Likewise, when the TSA fucks up, they work (at least they say they do) to correct the problem. That said, it’s inherently obvious to anyone who works with computers – or even anyone who has a camera phone – that the TSA’s claim that the AIT scanners can’t store images is bullshit.
So I opted for the “enhanced” pat-down, preferring not to risk images of my naughty bits being sent far and wide without my knowledge or consent.
Continue reading 'Enhanced security patdown'»
As I continue to brainstorm for the show I’ll be touring this summer, it has been helpful to also think about past productions. Specifically, what was their through-line? What arc(s) did the show contain? For Uncovering the Mirrors, the primary question was “How do ceremony and ritual help shape identity?” For No Gender Left Behind, “How do we teach gender and identity?” Obviously, each show explored topics beyond those specific questions, but – particularly looking back at those scripts – that’s where the bulk of my energy was going.
I’ve been trying to use this realization – I hadn’t really thought about my shows in that way before – I’ve been considering what I want to examine in this show: How do we embody and physicalize gender and identity?
I’m hoping this line of inquiry will help me write more (and write more productively towards performance) as I’ve felt a bit blocked. Not that I don’t have any ideas, but that they’re so shifting and ephemeral it’s hard to pin anything down. Like things are coming in and out of focus, but no unifying picture is (yet) emerging.
This past weekend, I saw a show at a theatre I’ve worked with in the past. The show was, for the most part, really fantastic. Funny, engaging, great set and costume pieces, good sound design, well acted; I have lots of nice things to say about this show. It also had a problematic gendered interaction I’ve been giving a lot of thought. Briefly, there was a main female character and two male characters who were trying to woo her. She was responding to one of them, and clearly rejecting the other. It culminated in a comedic confrontation where she was physically passed back and forth between the two men.
Now, I don’t inherently object to plot lines where a man pursues a woman who isn’t interested. Likewise, this was a show with a lot of clowning, so the physical confrontation was not violent or objectionable in the way it could have been in a more traditional straight play (a term which has nothing to do with sexuality). Likewise, the rejected man was shamed for his overbearing nature, and kicked out of the show as a result of his behavior. The other guy, the good guy, got the girl and all was right with the world.
At the same time, the way the female lead’s rejection of this man – and, more specifically, the way he responded – made me really uncomfortable. For me, it boiled down to frustration that this production used a character’s belief that “No means yes” for comedic value.
Continue reading 'Feminism ruins everything'»
This piece is cross-posted at In Our Times, an awesome blog collecting various queer Chicago writers and viewpoints. I’ve just started writing with them, and can’t speak highly enough of the work they’re doing.
When I first came out to my parents as transgender, at around fourteen, I had a lot of unspoken questions: What did wanting to be a girl mean, when the whole world thought I was a boy? Could I ever be happy? How would this change our relationships? And, perhaps most important of all, how would transitioning from being a boy to being a girl work? What would that process be like?
I was lucky in some ways. I didn’t wonder whether my parents would kick me out of the house, or stop supporting me, or beat me, or any of the horrible things that happen all-too-often when trans youth come out to the adults in their lives. And when I said those terrifying words, “I think I want to be a girl,” my parents responded with love and compassion. My mom said, “We will love you, no matter what.” My dad said, “We’ll love you, whatever you are. As long as you’re not a Republican.” (The source of my own sense of humor was never a big mystery.) However, they didn’t know how to address my unspoken questions — or even know that those questions existed.
I tell this story a lot, and I do so for two reasons: First, to highlight a way in which my parents were awesome, by responding to my coming out by reiterating their love for me. But also to highlight a way in which they fell short, to highlight their ignorance around what it meant to be trans, to have a trans child. I tell the story of my coming out to focus on the difference between tolerance and acceptance, which my parents absolutely displayed, and support, which they didn’t know how to provide. Continue reading 'How to Be a Better Ally to Trans Folks in Four Steps'»
As I previously mentioned, I’ve been dipping my toes into the world of listing myself as bi on OKCupid. I haven’t gone on any dates, or even exchanged phone numbers or anything, but have had a number of interesting conversations. I’m still annoyed with the propensity for men on OKC to simply star me (indicating they like my profile) or send meaningless messages like “Hi” or “Ur cute,” but it’s been an interesting experience. (In a good way.) One conversation in particular has been on my mind, though:
Well don’t you sound very interesting! 
I’d really love a new transgender friend! I’d love to get a drink or maybe smoke a joint with you sometime, and see how well we click! . (Emphasis added)
There was more, about his open relationship and how he’s looking for friends and not necessarily hookups, but that’s the part that stuck with me.
Continue reading 'Affirmative action in friendships'»
Part One of this writing exercise is here.
No fair! My feet didn't come with a flower!
Below the waist. My feet, like my hands, are slightly bigger than I’d like, hairier than I’d like, but I can’t really complain. They’re not huge, it’s occasionally obnoxious to find shoes in my size but never impossible, and hair removal has thinned much of the worst growth. I still have some patches around my ankles that I need to shave when I shave my legs, but no body is perfect. My legs rival my chest and face for the most dramatic success of hair removal. I shave my legs, much more in warm months, but don’t grow the same thick brambly forest that I used to. As of today, I haven’t shaved my legs in at least a month, and while they’re hairy compared to my shaved-this-morning face, they’re night and day compared to when I was in high school, pre hormones and hair removal. My legs are, like my arms, places of strength. I don’t run – it hurts my knees – but I bike and walk and swim and climb ropes and trees and lovers. I’ve been working on strengthening my hips, something a physical therapist said would help my knees, but don’t have much to complain about.
At the same time, my legs and arms have shrunk the most over the course of my transition. I joke that, since going on hormones, I’ve gone up two cup sizes without gaining any weight. All that mass, my previously mentioned boobs, had to come from somewhere – lots of it came from now-departed muscle mass in my arms and legs. I’m still stronger than lots of my girl friends, who knows whether as a result of testosterone or simply genetics, but decidedly less strong than I was before hormones. I’m not complaining, however, other than the occasional struggle at circus or the gym. But no pain, no gain. Or something.
Continue reading 'Body Map, part two'»
Spring spring spring spring spring!
This is part one of a writing exercise about body mapping. Stay tuned for part two.
My fingers are a gateway to the world. Typers of words, feelers of skin, players of keys, graspers of all that is in reach. They are long and neither slender or fat, but finger-sized. They have hair between the first and second knuckles, between where they connect to my hand and where they bend. The hair has been hit by lasers, plucked by tweezers, shaved by blades, but still it grows back. Less and less with hormones and lasers and frustration, but still it grows.
The thumb on my right hand is larger than that on my left. My gym teacher slammed it in a door when I was in third or fourth grade. It was an accident, and he apologized, but still told me to stop crying when I went to the nurse’s office. I needed stitches under the nail, one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had.
When I hold my fingers up straight, palm out, the middle and ring fingers pop apart, as if in a permanent Vulcan greeting: Live long and prosper, forever. It’s kind of silly, and makes me incredibly self conscious. When I wave, I make sure to do so with fingers spread. When I hold my hand out, I either cup or spread my fingers to hide this physical quirk. It’s significantly more pronounced on my left hand, presumably because I broke those fingers flipping off my bike sophomore year of college. Ouch.
Continue reading 'Body Map, part one'»
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