Infinite Diversity: The Importance of Nourishing Gender Nonconformance

A story about Wibbly-Wobbly, Gendery-Bendery stuff.

(notes: just some small edits here based on some discussions with some intersex folks.)

Quick content warning: I talk about some sensitive topics with regard to gender, sexuality, and transition, including surgical procedures, in this essay.

Hi! I’m Nikki. I’m a Business Professor, and after some discussion with colleagues and some concerns I have seen in the trans community, I think there are some things that need to be addressed. Keep in mind I’m not an expert in gender studies, other than the observations I have made in my life, and some of the basic literature out there. I’m aware that there has been some amazing writing in this area by gender scholars; this is just what I’ve seen.

However, before we can do that, we need to establish some base information. I need to fall back on my old jams. My specialty is operations, which is basically applied math that went to the Dark Side of the Force. (Think of me as a Recovering Sith Lady.) So it’s more or less like Lemmas and a Proof. The Lemmas establish this side-proof that will help in the argument of the Main Proof, but is not the main purpose.

In other words, a Proof is basically a bunch of arguments linked together to lead to a conclusion. A Lemma is another set of arguments linked together, in order to provide the basis for a conclusion presented as argument in the Proof.

So, the Lemma is forging links, used to create the chain that becomes the Proof.

The Main Proof I want to discuss is this: We as a trans community need to make an effort to be more welcoming to trans people who do not conform to society’s expectations of their bodies - in particular to trans women who have not undergone a “standard” bottom surgery, and may not have a desire to. Reason: The penis - and what people think of it. (Well, not just the penis… but it does seem to play a pretty important role.)

If that’s the Main Proof, then what is the Lemma? That the existence and experiences of trans people is far more varied than a predominantly-cisgender society realizes - indeed, more varied than much of the trans community realizes - and that this inherited ignorance is still holding our community back, and damaging some of its most vulnerable members. In other words, being gender nonconforming is a valid and varied and beautiful thing, with implications for both queer society and society at large, implications that society still has yet to fully address.

A warning: this might be controversial.  I may say some things that you disagree with.  That happens; certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  Please keep such disagreements civil.

That said, a few definitions.

Cisgender: Someone whose gender identity and expression matches the gender the doctor assigned to them at birth. Sometimes shortened to “cis”.

Cishet: A portmanteau of Cisgender, heterosexual. Generally used to indicate the majority perspective of current society, one that is predominantly cisgender and heterosexual.

Transgender: Someone for whom some part of their gender identity or expression does not match the gender the doctor assigned to them at birth. An umbrella term for those not cisgender. Sometimes shortened to “trans”.

Egg: Slang term for a trans person who hasn’t figured out they’re trans yet. “Egg hatching” or “egg cracking” refers to the moment when a trans person does figure it out.

Non-Binary: not conforming to either male or female; not associating oneself with the characteristics and performance of one traditional gender. Sometimes shortened to “enby”.

Intersex: Someone born with some combination of male and female biological traits.

Queer: Someone who does not conform to cisgender or heterosexual norms.

Agender: someone who views themselves as not having a gender. Sometimes considered a subset of Non-Binary.

Asexual: A person who experiences little or no sexual feelings or desires.

Demisexual: A person who experiences noticeably less sexual feelings or desires.

Aromantic: A person who experiences little or no romantic attraction to anyone.

Okay; now that we have some terminology out of the way, let’s dive in.

Lemma 1 - The Holy Book

In the early 2000s, my mind was blown by a revelation.

My egg had cracked only a few years previous, but transition was impossible; that didn’t mean I couldn’t research anything and everything I could.  So, one day, I drove from my parents’ place in the suburbs in to Dallas proper, went into a bookstore near Greenville Ave., perused the painfully-thin gender studies area, and picked up a book that looked useful.  Even 30 miles from anyone who likely knew me, I was deathly afraid of being seen, so I made my decisions quickly, and left.

I chose wisely, it seems.

The book in question was Kate Bornstein’s “Gender Outlaw”.  And it blew my mind, but not for the reasons I expected.  Oh, it’s a beautiful book in general - it’s a lovely read even today, and many of their experiences hit very close to home, especially for us older trans women.  (That said, do be careful in reading it; the language of gender and transness has changed significantly since then, and some common terms have since become de riguer.). But in the book, Bornstein introduced me to a concept that didn’t have a name when they wrote it, but left me stunned in its implications.

“I am not a man.

I am not a woman.

I like playing.

I’ve always loved make-believe!

Of all the options I’ve got, I like being girl the best.”

— Kate Bornstein, “Gender Outlaw”, page 233

It was possible to be something other than male or female.  Bornstein was describing what it meant to be non-binary, before it was even called “non-binary”.  They chose female because it suited them of the options they had available, but the binary didn’t quite fit.

In the early 2000s, the idea of going outside of the gender binary was radical.  Until 1997, trans women, in order to transition, were demanded to become stereotypical trans women, to fit the prejudices that psychiatrists, generally cisgender men, expected of us.  Trans folks were not just expected to adhere to the gender binary; they were almost expected to fight for it.  For someone to come along and say, “You know what?  I’m neither!” was to thumb their nose at what was viewed as one of the most precious illusions of society, as well as what was considered accepted medical wisdom at the time.

This changed my view of things.  I still viewed myself as part of the binary; I couldn’t see a way otherwise.  But the possibility was there.  The ability was there, even if it wasn’t my path.

Unfortunately, the transmedicalist view - that the binary is all that there is - still infects the discourse on what it means to be trans to this day.  This essay here is intended to explore the ways in which it still impacts even “enlightened” areas of the trans community.  And we, as a trans community, need to be careful about how we ourselves are affected by this legacy, and consciously build a place where all of us can feel comfortable and welcome.

Or, as Zoe likes to put it, “Don’t crack eggs.  Build nests.”

Lemma 2 - The Meeting

Time passed.  I went from being an engineer to being a business analyst to being a college professor.  I hated the make-believe of being a boy, but for most of that time I viewed transition as impossible.  The impossible became a necessity in 2019 - a story for another time - and I began to seek counseling and take hormones.  But for most of those early months and years, I was alone in my journey.  It wasn’t until 2022, as COVID’s wrath began to abate somewhat, that I finally started seeking out community and attending meetings of the local gender-nonconforming group.

I needed that place.  I was at the end of my rope by the time I found that group; to have that camaraderie, to no longer be alone in my transness, was a balm to my soul.  Myself, and the people that formed what I’ve come to think of as the Trans Class of 2020, took a deep dive into who we are, and progressed into this new experience - this authentic experience.  For me, that meant blossoming into the woman I always was inside; for others, it meant becoming their best self, their truest self.

That truest self varies from person to person.  For some people, that means surgical intervention.  For some people, that just means putting on the right clothes and presenting in a way that fits.  And there are all sorts of possibilities in between.  Some trans women, for instance, will never have surgery, for a myriad of reasons ranging from time to cost to preferring the equipment they have.  That doesn’t make them any less trans.  All that are on the spectrum are valid and should be welcome.

Which brings me to this next moment in time.  It was the usual Thursday; I went to the meeting at the coffeeshop, and talked with the people there.   The discussions can vary wildly in these meetings, ranging from the nuts and bolts of gender transition to clothing and makeup to the newest (or oldest) video game to various forms of arts and crafts.  On this night, surgical intervention was being discussed.

All of us have hopes with regard to surgeries - and not all of us can become who we are called to be.  Trans surgeries, for instance, are still very much defined by the gender binary.  Feminizing and masculinizing surgeries are generally designed to do exactly that - feminize or masculinize - and intended to address gender incongruence or dysphoria by physically moving a person in one direction or another along the gender path.  This was generally the boundary of the discussion that occurred.

It was at this point that one of the other people at the table mentioned they were intersex - and was saving up for surgery to affirm their intersex nature.  In other words, they were wanting surgery to make the parts of them that were not functional, functional, while still preserving the intersex nature of their genitals.

I’m ashamed at how I felt in that moment, though I hope I didn’t show it.  I didn’t understand why someone could do this; instinctively, it felt wrong to me.  It felt unnatural to me at the time.   

But that’s the issue, isn’t it?  For me, it felt unnatural.  For them, it is who they are.  They are affirming who they are as an intersex person, just as any other trans person affirms with their own transitions and surgical interventions.

I stayed quiet and kept a poker face as the conversation continued.  It was not my place, just as it is not anyone’s place to question anyone else’s gender.  They are just as valid in their non-binary nature as I am in my trans woman nature.

In a strange way, I’m glad for the moment, and for the feeling.  I was wrong to feel what I had, but I needed to have that feeling - and its wrongness - to examine, to grow.  It’s been awhile since I’ve seen that person, and I hope that they’ve since found the happiness they were looking for.

And if you’re the one I was talking to, and you’re reading this, I apologize.

Lemma 3 - Ordering A Taco

As I approached my own transition, a possibility presented itself.

Should I get a vulvaplasty instead of a vaginoplasty?

For those unfamiliar, a vulvaplasty is similar to a vaginoplasty, with one critical difference.  While the external configurations are similar - converting male genitalia into a female configuration - a vulvaplasty does not create a vaginal canal, so penetrative vaginal sex is impossible.

Vulvaplasties have significant advantages over vaginoplasties.  The surgery tends to be less invasive; recovery tends to be easier; there is no need for dilation afterwards.

The main disadvantage, of course, is that there is no vaginal canal.

I’ve never had much sexuality to speak of.  I’ve sometimes referred to my sexuality as “bisexual archaeologist”.  When my egg cracked in 1997, I felt I had to bury everything.  No one would want a trans person for a spouse, I thought.  So I buried whatever sexuality I had - though part of me wonders if I never had much to begin with - and remained celibate for the rest of my life.  If that held, a vaginal canal wasn’t as useful for me as it would be for others.

Eventually, though, I decided on a vaginoplasty.  The logic for getting the vaginoplasty as opposed to the vulvaplasty wasn’t so much a need, but that it be there if I see the need in the future.  And, after a whirlwind several months, I got my vaginoplasty this past December.  It did not come without a cost; complications from a rejected skin graft led to another operation a few weeks later, in what became one of the scariest Christmases and New Years’ I’ve ever experienced.  I am still not at 100% from where I was.

I’ve seen others choose to get vulvaplasties as opposed to vaginoplasties.  I’m glad they did, and rejoice their decision.  That said, I’ve actually seen pushback on this decision.  People ask how others could choose to get a vulvaplasty; how could they choose not to get a vaginal canal?

Again, if you ever feel like asking this, it’s not about you.  If it’s their body, it’s not what’s important for you, but what’s important for them.  For them, having a vaginal canal is just not that important.

It is important to remember that the importance of vulvae and of vaginal canals are not the same thing.  For some people, vaginal sex, or sex in general, is just not that important.  For someone who is ace (asexual), demi (demisexual), or prefers forms of sex that do not involve the vaginal canal, it may be viewed as superfluous or even repulsive.  And, as shown above, there are real costs to installing a vaginal canal.  At the same time, the vulva may be critical to perceiving ourselves as a woman, to ease gender dysphoria caused by having the wrong genitalia.  So many of us were turned off by the bulge between our legs, or how we looked in tight clothing.

So I went with the vaginoplasty.  That doesn’t mean it’s good for every trans woman, or even for most.  But it works decently enough for me.

My decision was valid for me.  Their decision is valid for them. Whatever decision a person makes about their genitalia, whether vaginoplasty or vulvaplasty or penis-preserving vaginoplasty or phalloplasty or orchiectomy or oophorectomy, it is their decision, it needs to be respected, and why are you so interested in what other people have in their pants anyway?

Lemma 4 - In Their Pants

Actually, that is a really important question.

Why are you so interested in what other people have in their pants?

Seriously, why? You’re attributing meaning to things that Just Aren’t There - not always, anyway, and not often enough to warrant being considered universal.

To illustrate what I’m meaning here, I need to do a little demonstration.

I want you to close your eyes for a moment and imagine a woman. 

Imagine her however you will - height, weight, hair color and style, skin color, musculature, overall presentation, all your choice.  Get every detail in your mind… imagine her scent, the timbre of her voice.

…

…

…

(Got that picture in your head? Now add some more detail - maybe the color of lipstick, or the shape of her hands… the details in the iris of her eyes… if it helps, the feel of her skin… every detail.)

…

…

…

(Got it?  Solid?  Every last detail?)

…

…

…

Now imagine she has a penis.

…

…

…

I suspect, for a lot of you, the picture changes a bit.  Probably far more sexualized in your mind.  I suspect, for many of you, your inner Ben Shapiro started speaking up, or at the very least tried to get a poisoned word in.  It certainly has seemed that way, given some of the comments floating around trans online communities.

See the problem now?  Cishet society has attached a certain connotation to the penis - one of sexuality, of sexual aggression - and that affects how some members of queer society view someone with one. This, by extension, colors the discussion around such matters. This goes in a couple of directions, both desire and revulsion, and we need to discuss them.

First, desire. Go into any trans feminine online community, and start reading commentary and terminology about penises on trans women, the sexualization attached to it. Then, go into any chaser community, and start reading commentary and terminology about penises on trans women. I’m not going to post these comments here, because I prefer to keep the discussion here at a somewhat dignified level. But seriously… is there a difference between the two, other than perhaps viewing the trans feminine community as safer?

Now, imagine all of this sexualization from the point of view of a trans woman who doesn’t have bottom dysphoria. For an example of this, consider the title character from April Daniels’ book, “Dreadnought”:

“Maybe I’m only imagining things. Sometimes I hope I am. There are things that don’t make sense. Like, for instance, my junk. It doesn’t bother me, but I feel like it’s “supposed” to bother me. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go? These changes in my body—I don’t like them, and I’m constantly getting surprised at all the different ways I don’t like them, but the one thing I thought I could count on hating doesn’t really bother me. I don’t feel much about it one way or the other. ”

“Dreadnought”, by April Daniels, p. 8

Consider how the character is described with regard to her penis. It is not despised or dysphoria-generating - but it is not implicitly sexual, either. It’s just there, and that’s okay - but consider how that penis, and the person attached to it, would be sexualized and objectified by the attitudes represented in those trans communities.

For trans women, especially trans women coming into the community, having a penis, without that sexual implication attached, needs to be okay.

Second, revulsion. Remember in Lemma 1, when I was talking about that old transmedicalist view of being trans? It was actually far worse. When early psychiatrists - almost exclusively straight white cisgender males - first started to treat trans women, they failed miserably, generally viewing them as some odd variant of gay man. The result of this was that trans women in the 20th century and even the early 21st generally had to meet a stereotypical caricature of femininity imagined by cisgender white men - a caricature most cisgender women don’t meet - in order to receive treatment.  It was designed to allow as few transitions as possible - with the body count that such an anti-care policy entails.

(And trans men and enbies, under this old model? Trans men generally weren’t acknowledged in this model. And the term “non-binary” did not exist until 1995. To this day, they are not given the respect due, even within the queer community - because they don’t match the horribly outdated picture cis people have of trans people.)

Because of this transmedicalist legacy, even today we tend to hold traditional bottom surgery - vaginoplasty in particular - as some gold standard by comparison, because a cishet-dominated society conditioned us to. Some older members of the community still regard such a transition, and those that accomplished this, as the only “true” trans women. At the same time, as the demonstration shows, trans women who still retain their phalluses are somehow viewed as different, as perhaps more sexual because of the connotations of that phallus, regardless of the realities of the situation.

We view vaginoplasty as an apotheosis, as our Kolinahr - when it is simply one possible apotheosis of many.

(That’s the first Star Trek reference here. It won’t be the last.)

Lemma 5 - Little Boxes and Arrows In One Direction

So… what’s the point of all of these stories?

It is this: How we view gender and sexuality has changed for the better in recent years - but we still have a long way to go, and a legacy to kick to the curb, if we are to become welcoming to all of those that claim the title “trans”.

Or, to put it another way, gender and sexuality are far more granular, and far more varied, than ANY of us realize. Far more than most of our mental models. Our minds haven’t caught up to just how varied and complex gender and sexuality really are - and we’re doing genuine harm to people because of it.

I apologize for the complexity of what you’re about to see. In a lot of ways, the complexity - and your reaction to it - is the point.

Consider the following: Until very recently, gender and sexuality was viewed with the standard binary:

This was the state of trans medical research until very recently.  It is where a lot of cis folks still are; the debate for them is whether that checkmark is subject to change.  The idea of non-binary identities is beyond understanding for them. Everything that was male - gender, sexuality, equipment, you name it - in one box, and everything that was female in the other. Frankly, this is about as boring a division as we could possibly get.  (Which explains a lot about our current political state in the US.)

See the problem? Everything is bundled up in that one box - including things that are more detached than we thought. It’s why we need to insist that women can have penises and men can have vaginas; until we do, until we physically yank our perception of gender and genitals away from each other, people will have a tendency to bundle them together. (Pin that thought; we’ll be going back to it later.)

So… the boxes didn’t work. Thus the idea of non-binary identities was explored, changing the binary into a sliding scale:

So… we’ve gone from basically zero dimensions to one.  This is what most people who actually are aware of non-binary people generally perceive.  Unfortunately, it is still only one dimension; we are still locked in that line.   Moreover, those items are still, to a large extent, bundled together, even if more loosely than before.  

Now… let’s get a little closer to reality.  Trans Student Educational Resources introduced a Gender Unicorn to better represent what gender and sexuality are really like.

This is a dimensional leap forward from the old-fashioned gender binary.  We have, at a minimum, a nine-dimensional matrix to represent gender - eight “standard” sliders for various aspects of male and female identity and male and female attraction, and a trinary checkbox for Sex Assigned At Birth.  Masculinity and femininity are separate sliders; attraction to male and female are separate sliders.  This allows for significant representation of both the level of comfort with gendered behavior and sexuality in various forms.  It also allows for some representation of intensity for these forms, bringing possible agender, asexual, and aromantic forms.   This is far beyond what most cisgender people would imagine.

(Is it wrong that I like to imagine multi-dimensional spaces for fun?  Such imaginations are cheaper than drugs, frankly.)

That said, this has some implications beyond even what we would consider - and amazingly, it is still not enough.  Look at that last entry for each of them.  “Other Gender(s)”.  While these are represented as a single arrow each - one slider within Gender Identity, Gender Expression, Physical Attraction, and Emotional Attraction - the reality is that these are themselves an option.  A person may not need them at all; on the other hand, multiple sliders of each type may be needed in certain situations.

It is in these extra possibilities that the Unicorn can start to approach the needs of a gender-variant populace - but still doesn’t quite get there.  Consider a chaser - a cis person physically attracted specifically to trans people. In the model above, that would mean that third arrow under “Physically Attracted To” would have trans people listed.  A kinder example is T4T - trans people physically and emotionally attracted to other trans people; not only would the difference between Sex Assigned at Birth and Gender Identity/Expression be documented, but additional arrows under “Physically Attracted To” and “Emotionally Attracted To” as well. So all of a sudden we can throw in new dimensions as needed.  New shades of gender, sexuality, or romance are possible.

Throwing in new dimensions of gender, sexuality, or romance because they fit is so radical, yet so beautiful.  Gender and sexuality and romance, to borrow from a lovely ally, isn’t binary, or even linear.  It’s more of a ball of wibbly-wobbly, gendery-bendery stuff.

That said, the Unicorn is still not enough. To illustrate this, let’s start drawing some aspects of people’s gender or sexuality from a practical perspective. Gender Identity could get interesting in several ways. We’ve already seen an example of intersex as a genuine Identity (Edit: given some recent conversations with an intersex person, even fitting it in Gender Identity may be insufficient!). Is just “being trans” a Gender Identity? For Gender Expression, someone might prefer a drag aesthetic or a 1950s tradwife aesthetic, and these would show up as new arrows. Someone might be physically attracted to Chads or Karens, but emotionally repulsed by them.

Oh, wait… we’re missing something else in the model, aren’t we? And at this point the model starts to break down, because there are a couple of things missing, and a couple of things not well represented.

First, the arrows themselves. “Female” and “Male” for Gender Identity; “Feminine” and “Masculine” for Gender Expression. When we stop to think about it, these aren’t granular enough for us. Maybe we really, REALLY want breasts for instance - we view it as a core part of our gender identity - but our junk is just kind of there, and we really don’t care one way or another, or maybe we’ve come to like having a penis, and would prefer to keep it. Also, granularity even in genitals is needed, as my intersex colleague in the trans group illustrated; genitals that do not match traditional male or female exist, are valid, and need to be respected. Again, some people prefer gender-nonconforming genitalia, and penis-preserving vaginoplasties are performed as well. So simply categorizing even body parts as “Male” or “Female” isn’t enough. Same for Gender Expression; we kind of throw “masculine” and “feminine” in there for vague examination, but reality is far more detailed. Maybe we want a 1980s Power Suit Female Executive presentation, or perhaps we really want to be a sword-and-sorcery Amazon goddess. Drag, also, has certainly developed into something beyond the description of “feminine” or “masculine” into a distinct form all of its own. Presentation can also go into the realm of nonbinary, where the combination of traditionally masculine and traditionally feminine mix to become something far more potent. This granularity of gender, and the synergy combining traditionally separate aspects of gender brings, can extend to physical attraction and emotional attraction as well. So we clearly need more arrows - and more customization in what those arrows are.

The other weakness of the model: it only goes in positive directions. Being trans in some form isn’t just a positive expression of one aspect of gender; it can also be accompanied by some significant negative expression as well. I have yet to meet a trans person - any person, really - who didn’t have some negative areas, some things they hated or despised about their body, or about certain expressions, or found physically or emotionally repulsive in others. Manipulative people, for instance, significantly repulse me; I’ve seen the damage people can do, and want less than no part of it. Chads might be physically good-looking to a person, but emotionally disgusting to the same person. So having some negative area of measurement is needed. Other than the AGAB, this need for negative areas extends to all areas of the Gender Unicorn.

So a better representation of one of these areas might look like the following:

At this point, it’s starting to look less like a unicorn and more like a dragon - fierce and untamed.

The problem is this: How many of us have gone that far? I was fine with the Gender Unicorn until discussing this with others, and seeing areas where it was deficient. Most cisgender folks are just fine with a check-box; they’re just arguing whether that check is marked in pencil or ink.

I imagine by this point things seem kind of bewildering, right? That’s kind of the point. Reality is far more complex than the models we use to represent gender and sexuality. Things we thought were bundled together really aren’t. Identity, in particular gender and sexual identity, is far more granular than our imaginations, far more intricate than our models can show.

And so, we reach the conclusion of our lemmas. Identity isn’t a checkbox. It isn’t even a Unicorn. It is far, far more varied than any of us realizes - and all of these areas within gender identity and gender expression need to be represented as valid.

Unfortunately, that is not the case - and we are damaging members of our community as a result - because of these simplifications of gender, these checkboxes, these sliders, these incomplete unicorns. Because people’s thinking are often shaped by these limitations in their mental frameworks, others come into this community with expectations thrust onto them about what it means to be trans, expectations that have their roots in cisgender society, but are in reality incapable of representing who they truly are.

So, the takeaway from what we have so far:

Lemma 1: Being non-binary is a valid and beautiful thing. The checkbox isn’t enough.

Lemma 2: There are dimensions to gender even beyond the line between male and female. That identity, beyond male and female, can go into other areas entirely - such as intersex. The slider isn’t enough.

Lemma 3: Society establishes connotations to gender and to genital organs in particular - connotations that are not necessarily valid, and are certainly not universally valid.

Lemma 4: Those connotations can lead to negative pressures in society, even queer society, because we continue to tie sex organs and sexuality together. The trans community, still affected by the paradigms of binaries and sliders, struggles with the implications of the Unicorn, and hasn’t taken its lessons to heart.

Lemma 5: In reality, because those connotations are not necessarily valid, the Unicorn is insufficient for the job - it doesn’t go far enough.

Gender isn’t a binary. Gender isn’t even a slider. Arguably, even the categories of “male” and “female” aren’t what we think they are. Gender is a granular mishmash of a bunch of different parts, how we perceive ourselves and parts of ourselves brought together to form this aspect of our identity.

So. Gender is this wibbly-wobbly, gendery-bendery thing. And we’re a little hasty in assigning fixed roles or connotations to anything within, or making any assumptions based on those wibblies and wobblies.

Proof: IDIC. QED.

So we’ve proved a few lemmas.  So what?

The point is this: If all of the various aspects of identity, including sex and gender, are this level of granular, and could potentially combine in an infinite possible combination of variations, then we have to present all of these possible combinations as equitably valid - and, by extension, provide a place to nurture those possible combinations.  Any flavor of non-traditional gender identity - and there is so much within that - needs to be celebrated; every discovery, every validation, every milestone of a person’s journey needs to be cherished, appreciated, and nourished by the community.

Are we doing that now?

No.

Not even close.  To put it simply, too many of us in the queer community are viewing life from the lens of cis folks, and taking their biases into our world, to the detriment of some of our most vulnerable.  To understand why, we need to talk briefly about my transition.

My transition, for the most part, was fairly standard.  More precisely, “fairly standard” according to some very old, very outdated standards.  I received a formal (and correct) diagnosis of gender dysphoria before starting hormone replacement therapy.  I got a fairly standard - and fairly complete - set of surgical interventions: facial surgery, breast augmentation, and vaginoplasty.  In other words, in terms of intent and outcome, I largely fit archaic stereotypes of a trans woman; chances are, if I worked on my weight more and left my old life entirely, I’d even possibly pass a 20th century psychiatrist’s definition.

That gives me some privilege, because - outside of transphobes that reject my existence outright - I fit society’s expectations.  I can talk about my surgeries, I can talk about what I’ve gone through with relatively little fear.  Now… suppose the best course of action to relieve my dysphoria was something else.  Suppose I decided not to get bottom surgery.  Suppose I decided to just get an orchiectomy, or a penis-preserving vaginoplasty.  My suspicion is that your perception of me would likely be something very different.  Something far more sexualized, something closer to transphobes’ worst caricatures of us - never mind that gender and sexuality are not inherently tied together in terms of identity. For an example of that, go back to the lessons of Lemma 4.

That is the problem that I wish to point out. Some trans people aren’t finding the home we need to give; some run to our community only to find the worst of what they feared from the outside - that they would be seen for what is in their pants, and not what is in their hearts and minds. We need to be sure to cultivate an area for all trans people, to be careful in how we present to each other, to be kind in how we communicate with each other.

Here’s the truth - the implications of what all of this understanding of identity, what all of this exploration of gender and identity and community implies.

1. Reaching a stable, thriving point with regard to gender and gender identity should be celebrated - no matter what that point is, and no matter what the outcome is.  So anyone who achieves that goal should be celebrated for making it through, celebrated for surviving.  Because, frankly, any day that any of us survive through and beyond transition is a victory - and to make it through to a personal apotheosis an even greater victory, no matter what that apotheosis is. 

2. We need to be careful about how we discuss gender and sexuality, to make sure we are decoupling gender and sexuality.  How a person needs to transition could have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with their sexual preferences.  Again, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

3. By extension, we need to provide some safety, community, and welcome for those who don’t match those old stereotypes - those that have bottom dysphoria or for those who see themselves in a way different from those old stereotypes or for those for whom the surgeries they need just aren’t an option.  Their experience is valid, and we need to provide a nourishing place for them to grow and explore, regardless of the details of their gender identity or sex organs.  Being trans is hard enough; encountering additional prejudices and difficulties from within the queer community just should not happen.

In closing, years ago, as I got into Star Trek, I discovered a Vulcan philosophy that blew my mind.  It gave me hope that there was a world worth understanding, a world where maybe, just maybe, there was a place for people like me - a place for people like all of us.

IDIC.  Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.

We need to understand and respect that this infinite diversity in infinite combinations applies to within individuals as well as within communities.  Ultimately, to celebrate the diversity within the individual is to celebrate the diversity within and through all of us.

Live Long and Prosper.