My society conditioned me. As soon aa a proud mother or father hands over their new born baby for me to hold, I reflexively demand, What is it? As if the sex of the child will change the way I hold her or him or them.
Just the other day with my niece, an androgynous looking person passed us, and I immediately turned to my niece, Was that a guy or a girl? Why do I need to know? I don’t even have a relationship with the person. Just a stranger passing by.Wanna read more?
Alex writes a post entitled Male Mumble in which he reflects on terms he can use to describe non-trans men.
So what to call them? The male ones that never did any changing? Birth-males? But I have known forever that I wanted to be a boy and research tells us the transconfusion probably comes long before we are born. So transdudes are birth-males as well.
XY-men? Well, there are quite a few men that have Klinefelter with XXY or other variants. But just to call them Y-men, nahh, thats just not right ether.
Whenever I nose around trying to determine someone’s gender and gender history, I feel like a dog sniffing between other dog’s legs. At least when dogs sniff each other, they gather useful info.
…a sniff of the rear tells a dog all sorts of things, including what the other dog likes to eat, its general health, and if a female pooch is pregnant.
I have been writing a lot about “trans issues”. In part this comes from my friendships with trans men and women and my desire to beome a better ally. But even before I met Alex and Elliot and Diana and friends from the web, I thought loads about gender. The ex-gay movement is as much about gender reorientation as it is about subverting sexual desire.
In fact, the two get blended so much people assume that a guy is no longer gay if he is no longer fem. Butch up the boys, butch down the girls. Get everyone to act their gender and the world is a happy place.
It reminds me of the Paul Lawrence Dunbar poem, We Wear the Mask. In order to succeed and even survive in school, church, families, neighborhoods and jobs, we often feel compelled to stick on a mask. A Black man growing up in a very anti-Black America, Dunbar speaks loudly about this to mask wearers today.
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!