thisNik

How much of oneself should an individual disclose at any one time?

While safety is certainly the paramount factor in this, if a person is perceived as being in a privileged category – or, especially, several privileged categories at once – and are a recipient of the attendant privilege that comes with this perception, do they have a responsibility to disclose their minority status?

In preparation for another large physically transformational step in my life, I find myself struggling with this question.  As someone who was assigned female at birth, I have been an ongoing witness to the ways in which respect is accorded to an individual simply by virtue of their perceived gender as I have taken steps to bring outer body to accordance with my inner identity and assume a more masculine presentation in this world.  Walking into an old place of employment, people exclaim that I look so very different, although I am wearing the same clothes, and perhaps the only thing that I have lost is some hair. What is so very different? Is it the way I carry myself? Whatever it is, when I speak, my words are given more consideration, and I almost hate that extra moment that people take to really think over what I have said.

Walking into the grocery store, I see an old friend – someone I haven’t seen in years. I smile at her, making eye contact, and she averts her eyes, nervous. She doesn’t recognize me, and as she hurries by, the stink of fear of me – a man, a potential predator – is heavy on the air.  In this instance and in a million times a day I wonder if being comfortable in my body is worth the price of privilege: respect based on fear and perception of me as a cisgendered[1] white man.

A friend, who had also gone through physical transition, has assured me that these questions pass with time; they too, struggled with that change in perception, but found that ultimately they had become their own self, just living their own life.  It is true that some of this is fear – Coyote Grace sums it up in the song Ghost Boy:  “I ain’t nothing special now, no I’m just another guy.” And I do grieve that loss of previous identity to some degree.  But there is more to this than crocodile tears for being accorded respect just because I am perceived as a man.

It’s a fact that this perception colors people’s treatment of me: that just because I am read as a man – and particularly a white man – the way I am treated in day-to-day life is vastly different from the way I was treated when I was perceived as a woman.  Privilege is all about perception, not about being.  It is about how we are seen by others, regardless of our personal identities.  Kenji Yoshino notes that “The reason racial minorities are pressured to ‘act white’ is because of white supremacy. The reason women are told to downplay their child-care responsibilities in the workplace is because of patriarchy. And the reason gays are asked not to ‘flaunt’ is because of homophobia” (xi).  If a person is perceived as normative – as fitting into a privileged classification – but there is something unique about the path at which they arrived there, is it the responsibility of the individual to disclose that, assuming the individual feels safe to do so?

While liberation-centered movements often posit that in order to facilitate institutional and systematic change an individual must renounce their privilege and live with those whom are less privileged than themselves (Freire), I find a certain difficulty with this. Were I, as a white man, to live in a community comprised primarily of people of color, I would still be accorded the privilege of being treated as a white man by ‘virtue’ of my skin pigmentation.  I can live and work among people of different identities and experiences, but I will never be of those cultures or races. I will never be profiled on the basis of my skin, or treated as a failure or a threat or assumed to not speak English or pulled over or followed in the store because I am white.

While I can say “ooh, ooh! I have a minority status, too!” It isn’t the same.  My minority status, as it were, is something that I can largely put away at this point.  I can relate to being treated as less-than; spending the first three decades of my life socialized and perceived as female saw to that. However, today and every day going forward, I increasingly occupy the space of a man – my coming to this space may have been a little roundabout, but it is nevertheless authentic.  I have the comfort of privilege – respect that should be a component of basic human decency but is nevertheless reserved for a relatively small category: those perceived as white, male, cisgendered, young, heterosexual, monogamous, Christian, able-bodied, educated, and middle-class or above.

As I prepare to undergo chest reconstruction surgery, I am reminded again and again how lucky I am to be able to do this. Not everyone has the blessings of a community which is so supportive, or access to the kind of opportunity to realize the longing and necessity of a shot at feeling at home in their body. In this transformational process I have come to realize that being trans is something I can never wholly put aside, because for me to do so would be to disrespect that which brought me here in the first place.  And while I walk through the world perceived as a man, I hope to be a better ally through a firm memory of my history, and a better educator to others who may have never had reason to question why different characteristics often result in different treatment.

Bibliography

Coyote Grace. “Ghost Boy.” Boxes and Bags. Mile After Mile Records, 2006. CD.

Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 2000. Print.

Glickman, Charlie. “Why Use the Word “cisgender”?” Good Vibrations Online Magazine. Good Vibrations, 12 Jan. 2010. Web. 02 Oct. 2012. <http://goodvibesblog.com/why-use-the-word-cisgender/>.

Yoshino, Kenji. Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights. New York: Random House, 2007. Print.