Category: Trans Rights

Discussions on trans rights and perceived gender non-conformity.

  • Capital Pride & Prejudice

    Capital Pride & Prejudice

    Capital Pride

    I think Ottawa’s Capital Pride serves as a good case study on the mechanics of prejudice.

    Capital Pride purports to represent the interests of the queer community in Ottawa and Gatineau. In practice they only serve white, upper or middle class, able-bodied, working-age, anglophone, cisgender gay individuals. For the purposes of this article, I’ll shorten this latter group to cisgays, but know that when I use that term I mean all of these qualifiers.

    In this article I’ll focus on Capital Pride’s prejudice against trans people, people of colour, and francophones. I would assert that participation by these communities is despite of, rather than due to, the board of directors for Capital Pride. Though their exclusion is well-known to members of these communities, I will nonetheless substantiate these claims.

    The Theme

    The theme for Capital Pride this year is “Free to Love.” It is focused on sexual orientation to the exclusion of gender-related issues. It speaks to the attention by cisgay activists to issues abroad this year, in particular Uganda and Russia. It also speaks to a general lack of awareness for queers at home. There is a perception among cisgays that Ottawa-Gatineau is a done deal.

    This is substantiated by comments made by Jodie McNamara, the chair of Capital Pride:

    After last year’s record-breaking attendance of 75,000 spectators, the Parade will once again march down Bank Street through Ottawa’s LGBT Village on Sunday, August 24 under this year’s theme, ‘Free to Love’. ‘Free to Love’ is about celebrating the rights and freedoms that many of us in Ottawa enjoy, while standing with those for whom the struggle continues.

    This talk of “standing with those for whom the struggle continues” is not referring to others in the area. It’s talking about people abroad. The fight in Ottawa is thought to be over.

    This is in a city where half of the homeless youth are queer. Where in Gatineau, transgender people are forced to undergo sterilization. Where politicians equate trans people with sexual predators on television.

    Just this week both of Canada’s national newspapers published pieces portraying trans people as delusional and a threat to children. Barbara Kay of the National Post wrote the article Transgendered advocacy has gone too far, railing against acceptance. Margaret Wente of the Globe & Mail wrote an article entitled The march of transgender rights. It’s concluding paragraph sums up the sentiments within quite well:

    But today, people demand affirmation for their “personal truth,” no matter how distorted that truth might be. Transgenderism is not so much the “next civil rights frontier,” as Time magazine declared it, as a way for intimidated liberals to declare their bona fides. Enough is enough. And for God’s sake, leave the kids alone.

    Both newspapers are seen as authoritative and the pieces they published will perpetuate the misconceptions that feed the violence faced by trans people. Yet to the likes of Capital Pride’s Chair, there is no problem here.

    That ignorance extends beyond the personal beliefs of the organizers. It constricts all the rights-oriented discussions that would occur during Pride. The mandates that Capital Pride put together do not allow the space to have these local marginalized voices heard. The events are to explicitly focus abroad.

    The description for the human rights vigil:

    This year’s vigil will look at what it means to be “Free to Love” around the world, and will be hosted by special guest Stephanie Battaglino.

    The description for the awareness-raising conference:

    This is a free event that plays off the festival’s 2014 theme, “Free to Love”, and will feature Stephanie Battaglino as the keynote speaker.

    The speaker at both of these, Stephanie Battaglino, is a corporate vice president at a large American insurance company. She will have no knowledge of the context in this area.

    If the ignorance is this lack of awareness for the plight of queers in Ottawa, the prejudice is silencing these voices by assembling mandates that make them unwelcome.

    Capital Pride Marginalizes Francophones

    Capital Pride’s mission statement states that it represents the Ottawa-Gatineau region. There are approximately 314,000 individuals whose mother tongue is French across both municipalities. This does not include the higher number of whom speak French but don’t have it as their mother tongue. Many are not fluent in English.

    All 45 of the 45 events at Capital Pride will either be unilingual English, or in English with a French component. 0 of the 45 events will be unilingual French. Anything of substance will only be offered in English. The speech by Stephanie Battaglino at the human rights vigil will only be in English. Her keynote at the conference will only be delivered in English. There will be no translator. Three of the three panels at the conference will be conducted in English. Six of the six films presented are either with an English audio track, or if they’re in a foreign language, given English subtitles. There will not be French subtitles available for films whose audio is not in English. The one discussion group will only be conducted in English.

    So what’s in French? The latter half of the guide, which describes these English-only events. The French portion is a translation job, given that there was no original content in that language. The translation is sometimes done with comically poor results. For instance:

    Portez vos vêtements en cuir et votre engin de fétiche avec Fierté!

    This, along with a token few words in French at a flag raising and introducing the next musical performer at one event, constitutes what Pride organizers believe to be accessibility. This view was affirmed in an article by the Ottawa Citizen a few years ago entitled “Pride party adds francophone flair”:

    ”For a long time, a lot of francophones and people of Gatineau have not had a lot of queer-oriented events,” Capital Pride spokeswoman Lauryn Kronick said. ”It’s pretty sad that there’s a lack. We want to make it more accessible so that francophones will come out and not feel as though they’re being neglected.”

    This year’s official Pride Guide is available in English and French, there will be more francophone performers and MCs will speak in both official languages, Kronick said.

    This year, every single performer will do their act in English. But the MCs will introduce them in both official languages.

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    It is ignorance to entertain the idea that describing unilingual English events in French in the guide constitutes accessibility. Or that having stating the name of the next all-English performance in French makes it accessible in that language. It is also ignorance to think that making an event that excludes a third of the local population by virtue of an accessibility barrier is anything short of prejudicial.

    Racism, Transphobia, Fat Shaming in the Guide

    There are other cues that speak to who an event is for. Some of them are not in words, but images. I’ve compiled a list of all the faces more than a few pixels wide found in the guide Capital Pride distributed for 2014. I omitted the faces of five young children which were accompanying their (white cisgay) parents. That leaves 52 faces.

    white-pride-apparently

    The organizers of Capital Pride’s mission statement is:

    The mission of the Capital Pride Festival is to perpetuate the spirit of pride in the gay, lesbian, bisexual, trans, two-spirited and questioning (GLBTTQ) community in Canada’s National Capital Region of Ottawa–Gatineau.

    Some observations:

    • 0 of the 52 people are actually trans.
    • 2 of the 52 people are fat. It would need to be 27 people to accurately reflect Ontario.
    • 2 of the 52 people are queer youth.
    • 4 of the 52 people have grey hair.
    • 4 of the 52 people are of colour. It would need to be 12 faces to accurately reflect the diversity in Ottawa.
    • 52 of the 52 people are presented to be able-bodied.

    Also:

    • There are 7 drag queens but 0 drag kings.
    • There are more straight cisgender male actors depicting trans people (1) than actual trans people (0).

    Note: The exact figures are not known. I based the above on making assumptions about each face. Please see update #3.

    In short, the organizers have put together a guide that replicates the racism, ageism, ableism, toxic beauty standards and cis-sexism that exists in society.

    I think it bears mentioning again: in an event that purports to represent trans people as one of the six identities explicitly mentioned in its mission statement, Capital Pride’s booklet with fifty-two faces did not include a single trans person.

    The bias favours one specific group: white, thin, middle to upper class, able-bodied, working age, cisgender gays. If the guide accurately reflected the diversity in Ottawa, there would be three times as many people of colour. Instead, those faces are replaced by white people. If it accurately reflected the queer community, there would be a number of trans and genderqueer folk. Instead, it’s even more gay men and women.

    Representation is important. It’s messaging about who is actually welcomed, the results of good words put to practice. The faces in the guide are about who organizers envision as being part of Pride. Right now, that vision is one without people of colour, fat people, trans people, or people with disabilities.

    One could pass off the prejudice as mirroring the bias’ of its corporate corporate sponsors, as most faces come from their advertising. However, Capital Pride’s own record fared no better. Representation in the portions where Capital Pride had full creative control was worse than the corporate advertisements.

    Incentivized Against Accepting Marginalized Queers

    If prejudice against marginalized queers is embedded throughout Capital Pride, it does little to help that it is incentivized against their acceptance.

    This is a consequence of Capital Pride’s dependence on corporate sponsors and positioning itself as a city festival, both of which rely on public approval.

    It wasn’t always the case.

    When Capital Pride had its inaugural event in 1986, it was a celebration for this society’s most reviled. Public approval was not a requirement.

    This was at a time where gay bashings were a fact of life. Where police conducted mass arrests of gay people. Newspapers ran fearmongering pieces. It was twenty years before same-sex marriage. There was little public support and no major company wanted to be associated with that kind of movement.

    Pride was a beacon in all of this. Pushing acceptance.

    The dynamics are different now. Corporate funds do not come without strings. It means Capital Pride does not want to risk pitting corporate brands against public opinion by proxy through their association with people that society does not like. It means less leverage to oppose prejudiced representation in advertising. It should be noted that corporations never lead public opinion on matters of acceptance. This is as a principle of financial self-interest. Capital Pride’s dependence on them thus curtails the organization’s capacity to lead the way on matters of acceptance. That also ties in with Capital Pride’s relationship with City Hall, which again is sensitive to public opinion as a matter of political survival. There is a reason why Capital Pride would never allow the voices of the marginalized, like sex workers, to front public facing events like flag raisings.

    Given it’s history, it’s a most unfortunate evolution.

    Nothing About Us Without Us

    Capital Pride only organizes to serve cisgays. They speak of inclusion, but their actions demonstrate otherwise. Talia Johnson has a quote I very much find relevant:

    Many people in these communities see themselves as being accepting and inclusive, but when one looks at the situation in more detail how they see themselves isn’t necessarily the reality experienced by the people who are supposedly accepted and included. When this disparity of thought and experience is pointed out the first response on the part of the community is often defensive, “of course we’re inclusive and accepting, see, we say so in our welcoming statement!”

    Marginalized queers have been speaking out against Capital Pride’s exclusion for years and offering paths to move forward. Take for instance the article Ottawa Pride Invisibilizes Trans People, published in 2008. The board of directors have ignored these voices while maintaining they’re inclusive.

    This brings me to the last thing I’ll examine for this article. This is the board of directors for Capital Pride:

    aboutusbanner

    Six out of seven board of directors are white. Seven out of seven board of directors are middle class. Seven out of seven are able-bodied. Six out of seven are cisgender.

    They are not recipient to the kind of prejudice they facilitate. None of them stand to benefit from making their event more accepting. It is more likely that they would see it as a net loss. There are no voices of marginalized people on the board to raise those interests. The representation problem then is not limited to faces in the guide, but extends to the make-up of the organization itself. It becomes easier to understand why Capital Pride is prejudiced and only serves cisgays. It is a sad reality that this same prejudice places obstacles for marginalized queers to take on leadership roles, further inhibiting the removal of those barriers.

    Conclusion

    This is not an article on how Capital Pride can move forward to be more accepting.

    It will come to be more inclusive in time, but not be because it led people there. Rather, it’s tied its own hands so that it can only trail the march of progress.

    It’s unfortunate that there is such a fantastic opportunity for awareness raising that is being squandered away.

    Pride is dead but it’s reputation lives on. I see it every time a baby queer wants to go to their first parade. It’s still important.

    Will I participate in the festivities?

    Probably.

    There’s not a lot of alternatives out there.

    Update #1: This article has generated a bit of activity in other places. In particular, it’s being misconstrued by some cis gays as an attack on their identities. This is a discussion on the desire to see inclusion at Capital Pride match its own mission statement. Identifying the ways in which it fails to do so is not an attack, nor is having a more diverse Capital Pride that treats others as well as it does them.

    Update #2: I said that seven out of seven board of directors are white. The correct figure is six out of seven.

    Update #3: A criticism has been brought forth that I passed off the figures on the identities represented in the guide as fact, when instead it was based off of assumptions I was making on each face. I find that criticism entirely valid. There is a representation problem that is immediately visible in the guide and I was trying to put numbers to it. The approach I took relied on assumptions that were rooted in my own bias. I could have erased someone’s identity. I apologize if I did so. Were I to re-write this article I would handle that section differently.

  • Casual Violence

    Casual Violence

    An acquaintance wrote a good piece the other day that discussed how violence was just another part of her everyday like brushing her teeth. She begins:

    So I’m playing a nice relaxing puzzle game online, trying to be a little less depressed so I can study for finals, and I happened to glance over at the chat board attached to the side of the game, and people are making jokes about “mutilating trannies.”

    “That’s me,” I think. “They’re talking about torturing and killing me.” Then, I keep playing my game.

    This is a normal thing to happen to me. Being confronted sporadically with the idea of my death and dismemberment as a joke is my status quo. I’ve internalized it as part of my routine. If I made an (honest) list of my daily activities, alongside brushing my teeth and feeding my cat would be worrying about being killed, and then worrying that were I to be killed, whether the newspapers would call me a man. When I get out of bed and groggily pull on a cami, I’m equally likely to think about getting a breakfast sandwich with extra bacon, and whether or not today is the day someone pulls a knife. I love pockets in dresses because they keep my hands warm and I can put pepper spray in them. I like bars, but I barely drink in public anymore because getting carded might mean getting raped. I budget for these things.

    I wanted to talk about that fear. I’m so habituated as to barely mention it or have to think about it too hard.

    It’s there though. I base hundreds of calculations around it each day. What I wear. How much I cover up. What section of the store I’ll visit. How I’ll peruse those areas. How I talk. How I walk. Which coffee shops I go to because of their bathroom arrangement. How I package explanations.

    There’s this perception that what I fear are isolated acts of aggression. The strangers who shout slurs at me from the streets for wearing a pretty dress. My acquaintances who were refused service. The people who beat up my friend.

    Such acts bear their mark. Were it a freak occurrence, it could be healed and relegated to time. But for every one of these gestures there’s ten weekly acts of micro-aggression to sustain it. Reminders of how I shouldn’t exist. They never cease.

    Those greater acts of aggression are not then the isolated misdeeds of a lone perpetrator. They are instead a minor and entirely predictable leap from a society deeply hostile to trans women. A hostility so normalized that it goes unnoticed. It is this invisibility that grants people the latitude to believe that the perpetrators act without support.

    In the end it’s not that single, small, leap to violence that causes me to live in fear.

    It’s the entire package.

    And it’s why I have a separate “for work” and “for living” clothes. Why I avoid medical care. Why I dread shopping in stores come summer when I won’t have my coat to protect me. Why I don’t go into some stores at all. Why I don’t ask for help when I do. Or try clothes on in change rooms. Why I selectively correct family and friends on pronoun usage. Why I avoid family events. Why I’m afraid to say anything back when someone shouts “fag” or “freak.” Why I don’t go out to the Byward market late when the drunks are out. Why I hold my pee in. Why I keep my hands as fists in my pockets. Why I avoid sitting at benches if there’s a playground nearby. It’s even why I chose this name as it lacked the gendered association that could out me.

    Success in Perspective

    We are in a period of success stories.

    There’s a handful of trans people in pop culture now. They’re known for things other than being trans. Actress Laverne Cox plays a prominent character in television’s Orange is the New Black. Lana Wachowski most famously directed the The Matrix. Laura Jane Grace is singer guitarist for punk band Against Me! The teen television drama Degrassi had a central character who was trans. The weekly Canadian news magazine Maclean’s had a sympathetic front page piece about trans and gender variant children.

    Meanwhile there’s legislation passing in provincial and federal jurisdictions. It was only fifteen years ago that major gay rights organizations like the Human Rights Campaign refused to advocate for trans people citing political viability.

    We are in a defining decade and it’s the best it’s ever been. But best as compared to what. In some sense these are very pitiful things to call victories. A handful of people in the media. An interview where the subject isn’t dehumanized.

    Even then, these moments remain underwhelming exceptions in a deeply hostile environment. It does little to change why I live in fear.

    The Whole Package

    So let’s go back to this idea of the whole package. I’m seen as unfit for this world.

    I know the province I live in thinks of me as unfit. They require trans people to undergo sterilization in order to change their gender marker on their identification; to the detriment of those who will have to use them.

    I know the medical establishment thinks of me as unfit. I’m infantilized. I need medication. I spent four months with someone deconstructing my motives just to get a referral to a doctor that might help me. The doctor then set out to do the same. It’s been over a year and I still lack a prescription. For surgical care, you have to wait two years, write out an essay for your motives, and go before a panel of doctors to defend yourself.

    I know my religion of birth thinks of me as unfit. The Catholic church has been a vocal opponent of every non-discrimination and anti-bullying legislation inclusive of trans people. They forbid discussions of gender identity in their official support groups in schools. Teachers have reported experiencing fear in supporting their students. The church has been at the forefront of efforts to oppose adoption and same-sex marriage rights abroad and still speaking against it at home. It has ramifications for trans people.

    I know my political representatives think of me as unfit. They say that I shouldn’t be allowed to use the washroom to pee. They say that I’m just a sexual predator that will go after little girls if I do. They nickname legislation “the bathroom bill.”

    I know my newspapers thinks of me as unfit. The National Post and Ottawa Sun run stories that dehumanize me. They too think I shouldn’t be accepted. They too echo these thoughts that I’m a sexual predator. This is why I’m afraid to go pee.

    I know film and television thinks of me as unfit. Those positive interviews I mentioned always elicit a flurry of excitement because they’re still so rare as to be cause for celebration. Rather, in most sitcoms and interviews, I’m told I’m not legitimate dating material. That anyone going out with me should be ridiculed. I’m just a he-she. A tranny. An Adam’s apple. Interviews rarely fare better, with hosts reducing guests to their genitals.

    I know pedestrians think of me as unfit. They shout things to let me know. Comments they would never say to anyone else.

    I know my work thinks of me as unfit. A coworker came up to me to talk about how their ex-boyfriend came out as trans. It wasn’t done in a context of support but rather how it was a freak thing. My words to help him be there for him were brushed off.

    I know that the people on the dating site think of me as unfit. One told me I should just go sleep on the train tracks. The moderators make dehumanizing remarks about trans members in private. Mostly I’m just ignored.

    I know my family thinks of me as unfit. I’m delusional. I know that I’ll be tolerated and loved but never accepted.

    So I enter any public space knowing that the people I will deal with will be shaped by this toxic environment. They’re told I’m a sexual predator. That I should never be considered date material, only something to fuck or jack off to on porn sites. That I’m an aberration not to be accepted as I am. This is why I’m afraid.

    Casual Violence

    The perception is that assaults and murders alone define the violence we face. That the tacit support these aggressors receive up until their final act is simply valid expression. Passed off as fair debate. Religious freedom. Or comedy. That this support is normal and that challenging it is what would be intolerable.

    The violence of this support system is not a hypothetical. It bleeds through every interaction and people die from it. Forty percent of trans people attempt suicide. We have the studies. We know that the reason so many die is because of the hostile environment.

    When it’s one hand that kills us, they call it murder. When it’s a dozen, they call it suicide.

    This is the violence.

    To make people live in fear is a form of violence.

    To make them die is a form of violence.

    To inhibit them from challenging it is a form of violence.

    Yet this violence is so well accepted that it’s just part of my everyday routine.

    Casual violence.

  • Anatomy of a Transphobic Article

    Anatomy of a Transphobic Article

    I was deeply dismayed when the Globe and Mail published a transphobic article written by Margaret Wente over the weekend. I bring it up because on the outset that article seems innocuous. Clearly the editorial staff didn’t see any problem with it.

    To give a bit of context, this article follows a positive piece done by MacLean’s on gender variant children. If you haven’t read it already, I would recommend that you do so. I’ll wait.

    MacLean's article on trans and gender creative youth.
    MacLean’s article on trans and gender creative youth.

    Margaret Wente’s article by contrast has a negative take on trans and gender creative youth. She perpetuates harmful misconceptions and concludes by advocating against acceptance of these children’s expression. Absent from her article are the voices of the subjects for whom this is supposedly written to benefit: the children or their adult selves. Instead, she only gives platform to their detractors.

    I want to talk about this because this is what transphobia and for that matter homophobia looks like in Canada. It’s damage can not be understated. Mainstream society has a misguided belief that gay marriage and bashings serve as indicators of bigotry. This is only partly true. The brunt of the hostilities are manifested in an environment constantly hostile to genuine expression. 

    It’s everywhere. Canadian politicians openly equate trans women with pedophiles. Films and television shows aired in Canada regularly treat trans folk as no more than living jokes. Positive portrayals are so rare as to be applauded. Ontario schools still move to ban support groups aimed at queer youth.

    Then there’s the public whose views lag the legislative framework. 74% of trans students report receiving verbal harassment over their gender expression. 37% report being physically harassed. 64% report feeling unsafe at school. Half the homeless youth in Ottawa are queer. 57% of trans people face lack of acceptance from coworkers. When we are talking about acceptance around youth, we are talking about saving lives.

    Margaret Wente contributes to a climate that views diverse gender expression as something to be suppressed. Let’s look at glimpses of her article in more detail.

    What happens when your son tells you he’s really a girl?

    Twenty years ago, you probably would have crossed your fingers and tried to wait it out. Today, you might buy him a whole new wardrobe, find someone to prescribe hormone blockers, and help him live as a girl. Maybe he’ll even become a celebrity. A recent Maclean’s magazine cover, posing that very question, featured a lovely 11-year-old with long, flowing locks and enormous eyes. His name used to be Oliver.

    What’s noteworthy here is that the subject is a young girl. This is her identity and has been for as long as she’s had the ability to express herself. She’s been seeing a pediatrician at the McGill University Health Centre to assist her for years. In the MacLean’s article she affirms that “for the first time ever, she’s comfortable.”

    Margaret Wente doesn’t use her name, referring to the male one she was assigned at birth, and repeatedly refers to her as “he” and “his.” The author makes it clear that there is no bar for the child to attain at which Wente would have accepted them. This sets the tone for what follows.

    Suddenly transgender kids are everywhere – in the news, on Dr. Phil and in your neighbourhood. School boards have developed detailed transgender policies. Clinics to treat transgender kids have sprung up. A condition that used to be vanishingly rare, perhaps one in 10,000 children or less, now seems common. In a random sampling of 6th- to 8th-graders in San Francisco, kids were asked if they identified as male, female or transgendered – 1.3 per cent checked off the transgendered box.

    “The No. 1 factor is the Internet,” he said. “If you’re struggling to find out where you fit, the Internet is filled with things about gender dysphoria.”

    “When we ask, ‘When did you first learn about this label of gender dysphoria’, they’ll say, ‘Me and Mom watched Oprah,’ ” adds Dr. Hayley Wood, a member of his team.

    References to the Internet and talk shows is meant to discredit the voices of the youth. It plays to the stereotype that these are unreliable sources of information. Granted, they absolutely can be. However, the places people go to aren’t someone’s GeoCitie’s page from 1996. It’s the Center for Addiction and Mental Health. It’s the Central Toronto Youth Services. It’s the Vancouver Coastal Health. Provincially funded establishments that use evidence-based research to inform. This is where people turn to.

    Furthermore, let’s not forget that finding words that resonate from a talk show guest doesn’t invalidate your own experiences. Sometimes it’s the only place to find a voice on television that doesn’t dehumanize trans people.

    The insinuation looking at the upsurge in self-identification are that this is a fad. Absent from her discussion are other reasons to account for the rise. As one person wrote: “there is no sudden “queer identity fad” caused by the internet. you’ve just been wrapped up in your sad tiny world, never noticing the expansive world of queer people you’ve been erasing the existence of by assuming they’re all cis and straight like you.”

    That’s why Dr. Zucker takes a watch-and-wait approach. He even advises parents of princessy six-year-olds to say, “You’re not a girl. You’re a boy.”

    And in the hotly politicized world of gender politics, that makes him, in many people’s eyes, a dangerous reactionary.

    Just what constitutes a “princessy” six year old? Why should anyone shame a little child for expressing interest in any thing merely because it’s associated with girls? This mentality just makes me so sad.

    Note too that those who would support such a child are attributed the hyperbolic statement of “dangerous reactionary.” The hyperbole serves to discredit them. But no one has really said that. Wente is giving them a voice she imagines.

    One reason is that social norms have dramatically changed. It is now fashionable to embrace your diverse child.

    The author portrays embracing a diverse child as a negative, which I find disheartening.

    Parents who encourage their kids to change gender “are socially rewarded as wonderful and accepting,” while parents who try to take it slow “are seen as unaccepting, lacking in affection and conservative,” she says.

    These days, parents who don’t like the slow-and-careful answer can shop for another one. Ms. Dreger is highly critical of what she calls the “hasty clinics,” which are happy to help a kid transition right away. “Parents don’t like uncertainty,” she says. “They’d rather be told, ‘Here’s the diagnosis, and it’s all gonna turn out fine.’” Teenagers can find fast help, too. Plenty of doctors are happy to help them out with hormone treatments just for the asking.

    This absolutely ignores the reality of how care works. First off, please point me to one of these clinics. Then I wouldn’t of had to have waited ten months after first applying to start hormone replacement therapy, not to mention four months of having my gender deconstructed by a stranger.

    It also ignores the long journey that both parent and child take. It’s not that the kid voices things on Monday and Tuesday they’re on hormone blockers. There’s a long process there. That’s the reality of the care.

    For some people, including some adolescents, transgender treatment is lifesaving. But these treatments are neither simple nor benign. They may, among other things, retard maturation, suppress your growth or render you sterile. And in the end, medical science cannot create a body that makes you forget you were born the other sex.

    In the end, people like Margaret Wente make sure that you never forget that you were born the other sex. Cue her opening paragraph. But the aim in medical transition isn’t to forget the past. It’s to have a future. This inability for others to get past a person’s trans history or their gender expression is something else entirely.

    Disturbingly, data on long-term outcomes for transgender kids are scarce. No one is tracking the evidence on puberty-blocking intervention either.

    This is factually false. There is plenty of research on puberty-blocking interventions and trans youth; Margaret Wente just had to do a quick search on Google Scholar to see as much. However, not everyone who reads her article on the Globe and Mail will fact-check this. That makes such statements harmful because they perpetuate misconceptions that could be used to delay or deny care to the youth who need it.

    Here’s more unwelcome news from Ms. Dreger. A child’s gender issue may merely be a symptom of other family problems. “The dirty little secret is that many of these families have big dysfunctional issues. When you get the clinicians over a beer, they’ll tell you the truth. A lot of the parents aren’t well in terms of their mental health. They think that once the child transitions, all their problems will magically go away, but that’s not really where the stress is located.” Clinicians won’t say these things publicly, she says, because they don’t want to sound as if they’re blaming gender problems on screwed-up families.

    This statement is of very shoddy journalistic integrity. These are entirely unverifiable statements. I have never heard this to actually be the case, though I am familiar with the trope. It plays into a stereotype that the reason a kid grows up gay or trans is because of their mom or family troubles.

    It’s a mark of social progress that we are increasingly willing to accept people on their terms, for who they are. But maybe we’re manufacturing more problems than we’re solving. If we really want to help people, we should remember the old rule: First, do no harm.

    Unfortunately, harm is exactly the outcome of not accepting children for who they are, imposing patriarchal gender roles, and denying them voice. This is the stuff that makes people seek therapy later in life. This is what transphobia looks like. It is pervasive. It is toxic. I think it’s quite telling that Margaret Wente did not choose to interview actual children or the adults they grew into, nor their families. I suspect their story would have gotten in the way of spreading falsehoods.

    Gender variance isn’t abnormal with children. Some of them might end up realizing they’re gay, trans, or none of the above. Especially that latter possibility, because there is nothing wrong with a boy that plays with dolls. Nonetheless it’s perfectly okay to not know what to do when a child expresses something you don’t understand. But one thing you do know how to do is to embrace them and inform yourself.

    Fear mongering articles like this want to scare you away from taking that first step of informing yourself. You’ll discover that there’s lots of avenues for support for people like you and your child. That seeking care doesn’t mean medical intervention tomorrow it just means being there for your child today. That the people you turn to aren’t doctors with revoked licenses, but mainstream practitioners. That your child is able to express themselves more authentically, however that may be, is not a bad thing.

    Margaret Wente doesn’t see things that way. She doesn’t view trans and gender creative children as to be accepted. She’s not alone. Most of the country is pretty intolerant around gender expression and that has a demonstrable health impact on the recipients of their scorn.

    It is not wrong for her to question practices. However, merely having an opinion does not give it equal worth. The suppression of individual expression that Margaret Wente advocates is rooted in neither science, studies, nor the voices of her subjects. They’re all quite clear on the harm of that oppression. It is only based in personal prejudice. A reputable national newspaper should know better than to be a platform on which to further marginalize a vulnerable segment of society.

    I’m deeply disappointed at the Globe and Mail for having published this transphobic article.

  • Trans Day of Rememberance

    Trans Day of Rememberance

    Today, November 20th, is the trans day of remembrance.

    The name is a bit of a misnomer, because gives the impression that it’s about the past when unfortunately it speaks to a very real present.

    I’d like to share some statistics:

    • 64% of LGBTQ youth report feeling unsafe in their schools.
    • 90% of trans youth in Canada hear transphobic comments daily or weekly.
    • 74% of trans youth report being verbally harassed, 37% of them daily.
    • 49% of trans youth report being sexually harassed in their schools.
    • 37% of trans youth report being physically assaulted.
    • 27% of them by their parents.
    • 40% of youth in Ottawa’s streets are LGBTQ.
    • Youth of colour are disproportionately affected on all of these metrics.

    This is today.

    The television shows and movies they turn to ridicule them. The pillars of their world – parents and teachers – too often reject them. I wish I could say that most of my friends were still able to talk to their parents, didn’t face regular harassment on Ottawa’s streets, or weren’t ever told that they ought to die. Sadly, that isn’t the case. It is in this environment that 43% of trans folk report having attempted suicide, 10% in the last year. Not because they are trans, but because of the social shame and isolation.

    This is where you come in. As adults, if you know of a gender creative or trans youth, be there for them. Accept them.

    It’s not silence or wishful thinking that will make their life better.

    Sources

    1. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ottawa/half-of-homeless-ottawa-youth-identify-as-lgbtq-1.1699604
    2. http://mygsa.ca/setting-gsa/homophobia-transphobia-statistics
    3. http://ohmygay.tumblr.com/post/11020923645/ontario-pc-party-distributes-misleading-homophobic
    4. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/sudbury/social-shame-heightens-transgender-suicide-1.1179394
    5. http://badtransjokes.tumblr.com/
  • What’s been going on (or why I’m transitioning)

    What’s been going on (or why I’m transitioning)

    This blog is part of my public identity, and therefore I exhibit a fair amount of care in terms of what I divulge. One consequence of this approach is that I have very little insight into my past internal emotional state despite ten years of blogging.

    In an effort to have some record of this tumultuous period, I’m going to talk about what’s going on with me. I said in July that I was taking the steps to transition. That followed an earlier post in March where I noted that something was up gender-wise.

    I’m still getting assessed for hormone replacement therapy. I had my fifth of six appointments at a community clinic this week. I should probably start on HRT come January.

    Since my last update, I changed my name to Maëlys. It popped out at me when I was looking at popular French girl names. I hadn’t wanted to use variations from my birth name because I associated them with specific people. I liked that Maëlys was uncommon, that the first letter was in keeping with the names of my two other sisters, and that part of it was also an homage to a good friend.

    Despite these traits I still wasn’t too sure about it at first, but as I’ve been using it more and more it’s come to feel right. My pronouns have also changed and are now she/her.

    On that note, I was given this card the other day to honour the name/pronoun change. The friend wrote inside that there needed to be Hallmark cards for these milestones. It was a really kind gesture.

    Transitioning wise, I was going to talk about when I started to shave my legs this summer, but actually it goes a fair bit further back. It wasn’t entirely with that awareness.

    There are signs that go back to when I was 18 but on their own they were pretty inconsequential. Then in 2010/2011 things started to get more serious, in particular around sex and my bottom bits. It got to be that sex was really painful for me, but again I let it go.

    It wasn’t until the early months of 2012 that I started to make an effort to hide my secondary sex characteristics whenever taking pictures of myself. I’d tuck, make sure I was shaved and take photos from angles that would seemingly round my face. I wasn’t able to verbalize it, but the masculinity I was seeing was a real problem. Even though I never admitted it, I loved it whenever someone mistook me for transitioning the other way. That happened a fair bit because I was posting selfies to a queer-friendly social media platform and it meant that maybe one day I could be mistaken for another sex.

    That’s also about when I got my first strap-on from a vendor at Sexapalooza. I couldn’t enjoy sex with my own parts anymore; initially because of the pain and then because whenever I saw it as the male appendage it just completely killed it for me. A strap-on changed the game. It was cheap mainstream sex shop crap designed for impotent men, but that didn’t matter.

    I knew that if I could make a wish and wake up in a girl’s body, I totally would. I knew that even sexist 18 year old me would have too after coming to terms with my internalized misogyny. I dreamed of being able to trade my body with someone of the other sex. But that wasn’t my world, so I just kept going on.

    Come summer 2012, I got my first RodeOH harness. It felt so validating. I kept getting confused for a trans guy. I bought my first binder in the spring of 2013. It suggested I had a chest to hide, and that message was affirming the body I was seeing in the mirror. By this point I knew I needed to quench this disconnect with my body.

    At first, that was in the form of seeking bottom surgery. Really I could live on as a guy, I just needed to fix what was down there. If I contemplated hormone replacement therapy, it was just to follow the narrative to access surgery.

    Outwardly transitioning wasn’t really an option I thought. I had no hopes that I could live on as stealth and that was really discouraging. I feared rejection. Meanwhile, all the trans women I was aware of seemed to be very feminine, which further made me feel isolated as that wasn’t my path. Genderqueer was more apt but that seemed to only to mean female-assigned-at-birth. I felt like I didn’t really belong anywhere.

    I kept thinking more on transitioning, and I realized that no – actually I wanted what the hormones would bring me. Belonging be damned. Bottom surgery started to get less important. I reflected much in this period. I realized that despite all these fears of going at it alone and forever being ostracized in a deeply transphobic society, that it was better than the alternative.

    A big driver was looking at year old photos and realize that I was masculinizing at a fast pace, and that soon I would look like what men do in their thirties. I felt that any shot of inhabiting the body I desired was dropping rapidly. I felt that it was time to get the ball rolling.

    I consulted friends on how I could start HRT given that I didn’t feel like I could out myself to my GP. Fortunately, a local clinic was starting a program to offer free assessments for hormone replacement therapy. I called them and after a while was able to see someone.

    Those assessments started in the summer of 2013. I wasn’t in love with the idea of transitioning but I was doing an enormous amount of processing. The pause and simultaneous feeling of progress with the assessments helped in this regard.

    By that point I felt like I was suffocating. I was going through this difficult period, for which talking would have helped immensely, but I couldn’t do that except in great confidence with a few friends. The mediums that I was using to express myself, like this blog and Facebook, were becoming jails. I couldn’t say anything otherwise risk compromising my relationship with my family and my work situation. Suppressing myself on every platform, however, was taking a toll.

    So I started to make spaces where I could be free. I deleted my Facebook account, creating a new profile where I only friended those that would respect me regardless of my identity. I came out on this blog and to those in my life I could trust.

    Outside of that, the transition kept progressing. I went out with a friend and picked up my first sports bra. I was too scared to go alone. It’s difficult to convey how liberating and good it felt to finally wear it. That was an important moment. I soon bought my first sports bra on my own.

    Weeks before Pride, that friend and I went to Value Village where I picked up two skirts. I wore that skirt for the first time outside a week before Pride. I was so afraid before then that I would be destroyed by comments from judgy passerbys. I had witnessed such homophobic and transphobic vitriol over the years in Ottawa. But at the same time, I needed to do this for me. So I femmed up and walked outside.

    I did get inappropriate comments. But I didn’t care – because what I noticed as I walked down the street is that virtually no one so much as gazed in my direction. That lack of attention was in itself so affirming that when someone finally did say something nasty, I just didn’t give a shit.

    Pride came, and I wore that skirt again. I felt so real.

    Two days later, I announced that my name had changed to Maëlys.

    By then I was wearing and stuffing sports bras every day including to work. Not wearing one made it as if all the air in the world outside my apartment’s door were as heavy as molasses. I still dressed in a masculine fashion, which was in line with my gender expression.

    I nonetheless did like to occasionally femme up. That said, wearing skirts started to make me feel very uncomfortable about my hairy legs. I wanted those hairs gone but I was scared to shave because I thought people at work would notice. I was afraid of what would happen if they did.

    But at one point it became too much. So I shaved. The second I was done, it felt so right. All those fears about work just melted away. A few weeks later, I went through the same thing with my arms. Same anxieties, just as quickly vanished once done. As it turns out, no one at work said a thing.

    Meanwhile, my processing started to bear fruit. I continued to have reservations about starting hormone replacement therapy. The question became should I move ahead while having these doubts.

    I came to conclude that the answer was yes. I recognized that those doubts would persist for as long as the dissociation with my gender continued, which could be the rest of my life. Hormone replacement therapy would bring me a resolution.

    There was also reassurances in thinking of what if I was wrong. If I did this and was wrong, I could just stop and things would be more or less reversible. I would have many months to evaluate the slow changes and see if I liked what I saw. However, if I didn’t do this and was wrong, I’d be in real trouble. I would have squandered my one chance to do this as young as I did, and by then I’m not sure I could stand myself. I can barely do it now. I don’t know if I could carry on.

    If it turned out that this reversal of feelings came in ten, twenty years – then I would of had all these years of good life that I made happen. That’s an excellent thing to be able to claim and I can deal with whatever steps I need to then.

    The sense of victory in terms of my bra and shaving did lead me to believe I’d likely feel pretty good about HRT too. Doing these things had been like weights lifted off of my shoulder that I never knew had been there until they finally came off. Now being cognizant of the relief in their absence, I could never go back. There was also a pretty good track record with the transition of others, though I never felt like I quite matched up to their exhibited resolve.

    Then finally, there was how I felt about regret. Which is to say that it isn’t the things I do that I regret but rather the things I didn’t do because I was afraid. Regret doesn’t belong with the outcome but rather somewhere much before that point. For me, that was a discussion spanning months on how I could transform this very unhappy set of years in terms of my body into something good. That I won’t regret nor the decision it led to.

    I started to gain some confidence with my newfound identity. A part of that was being able to have friends that didn’t bat an eye at treating me like a girl, and sharing intimacy with people that respected my body as feminine. So much of my lack of confidence had been rooted in the poisoned depiction of trans women in mainstream society – from being treated as threats in the washroom by this country’s elected officials, to openly derided in television and games, to desired in a creepy objectified way as “shemales” by straight men. In all of these cases, we are no more than genitals to them, as if to say that that’s all a woman is.

    It also helped that I finally found role models that made me feel less alone in my approach. There was a talk by butch trans women at a conference that was absolutely affirming for me. There were people in the local queer community that showed that having side burns didn’t mean you were disqualified from being she’d.

    That confidence led to me being able to finally change my gender marker on a dating site. It also led me to being able to hold up my own in the face of disapproving parents and not be affected by ignorant messages like that below:

    Messages I’ve received from men while dating.

    So there you have it. My name is Maëlys. I’m 28 years old, queer, and go by the pronouns she/her. Pleased to meet you.

    Note: Even though this site is public, please don’t disclose what I’m doing to others. Allow me to decide for myself when I’ll disclose to those who don’t read this blog. I’m sharing this because I hope that it being out there as yet another narrative might help someone else feel a little less alone.