Your piece is so poetic, and haunting- a collage of the pain and illumination and murky struggle to escape that so many of us feel. And the sheer weight of social gender training and our own compliance in overpowering the hope that springs up within- postponing the day of reckoning. I was only able to take constructive steps towards reconciliation of my split personality after I retired- and the primary struggle is with my wife’s dismay. Her ability to value me as a genderfluid person is also obstructed by the weight of gender training which creates the presumption of ‘abnormality’, and the as yet not well understood deep psychological or hormonal influences that condition our response to gender norms.
I liken our struggle to that of any child who dreams of how life could be- imagining a world that welcomes and fosters their instincts and desires for expression and finding mutually beneficial relationships. The age-old story is that harsh reality will become apparent and with it the need to conform, to accept suffering, and to adjust to the powers that be.
Just as we conformed, so did everyone else. Those who didn’t find as much dissonance in doing so with respect to gender found that they were asked to conform to wrongly based judgments and practices with respect to race, or bookishness, or ability, or any other characteristic of a person which could be used to judge and separate them from the safety of the crowd favored with social or economic power.
We are experiencing minority stress. Internalized- it becomes dysphoria. As a practical matter- finding our center and understanding ourselves gives us a place to stand. I realized, on waking one morning, that I was a ‘mirl’, a male girl. As confounding as that term might seem- I found a peace and certainty that is independent of what others are willing to agree with. It was a definition that incorporated all my reality perfectly.
I was still chasing the acceptance of others- and found it, in a few moments here and there. Those experiences are treasures for me- I return to them in memory and relive them. But, in studying the world around me from my platform of knowing myself, I can see that everyone is struggling,and the public, shared society is a complex stew. I am also chastened to know that liberal ideals, such as generous social interest in and acceptance of all people for their individuality, are still threatening to about half the population.
Living where liberal consciousness is more prevalent helps a lot. But even here I found that formal or informal acceptance takes place over a short period from seconds to days, and after that, the ordinary problems of life resume their prominence.
Knowing our identity correctly is the most fundamental thing we need to do, and that is why feeling we have no place is so mentally disruptive. But it is something we can do for ourselves, and have to do for ourselves.
The apparent rule that others need to approve is artificial, promulgated by others who cherish the power over us it confers on them. I think this deep meme is from childhood, from implied or explicit parental threats of abandonment. In practice, people do try to enforce their wishes on others, but we have relatively equal power in that fight.
When I am wrestling with the feelings of oppression, I remind myself that I am already a girl- and then the nature of the fight changes, from deep seated instability to the problems faced by an underdog in a competitive world. That means it is going to be difficult, not easy.
I take some comfort in the sad fact that most women know this already, and are embroiled in their own struggles to have a full place in society. In that context, my being a male woman is just one variation on the problem set. So if I can’t wear a dress because people won’t like it and will treat me badly, it is exactly the same kind of problem another woman might be facing today when she finds that she wants to express her opinion, but it is not welcome. I have learned from many decades of experience that some battles can be won, and others won’t be- and in the end my goal is my own peace of mind.
I now know who I am, and at times when who I am doesn’t matter to others very much, my practice, as a girl, is to dress like a man, accept the privileges and tolerate the limitations involved. When I am at home or among friends, I let my hair down.
