This idea was sparked off by Kiunna’s wonderful post on “I think trannies worry far too much about passing”.

What is ‘passing’ in a trans* context? I’m trying to work this out for myself. Or, more, I know what it is (being read as the gender you identify as) but I can see two rather distinct problems with it:
*What if you identify as non-binary? People don’t typically think “ah, they’re an androgyne” and address you with the title Mx, or at least, not where I live.
*How do you know when you are passing? It can be pretty obvious, ie if you’re called “sir” or “ma-am” in a shop, but as a transguy I get paranoid that I’m not passing if someone holds a door open for me. It seems to be pretty hard to identify whether you’re being read as male or female most of the time, unless people are helpful enough to tell you. I was about to write how much I wished that English had more gendered words, had three genders, male, female, neuter, but then I thought about my pesky French lessons, and how hard I find it knowing whether I want to use the female ending or the male ending. I’ll argue that there are indeed some advantages to a language where you know instantly if you’re being read as male or female, but I think those might be outweighed by the awkwardnesses.

Sometimes I feel tempted to get or make a t-shirt saying “I’m a goddamn boy” so that at least people can see and know, but that would bring its own issues, that starting to pass has certainly brought – parents. I’m officially out to them, but I’m living as if in the closet due to their reactions, and it’s getting rather awkward when I pass maybe 40% of the time.

It’s also hard to know sometimes how to pass, or what I need to do. Growing a beard might be one way of quickly and easily managing it, but that takes testosterone, and I’m rather short on that in my system. Maybe asking people that know me would help. Since I had a new haircut (a mohawk) I pass rather better, but I think that’s more down to me walking a lot more confidently, and seeming a lot more self-assured, because I have a haircut that screams “look, see?!” and I need to seem vaguely confident to pull it off.

I’m finding this whole being pre-everything lark quite depressing honestly. A lot of my total body-hate has come flooding back recently, even with a wonderful boyfriend that does succeed in making me feel attractive, and I’ve needed a lot of support from him, and from Michael (who I now call ‘dad’). Self-medication was a consideration, but it’s not something I’m going to do at the moment, although I’ll keep it in reserve as an option, I just find that it’s hard to keep going in the same old patterns of being read as female. I’m hoping to re-enroll as male in college next year, as James, but that depends on my parents. When will my life even be my life? I don’t know. Maybe I need to work more on passing, maybe passing instead of failing would help me more.

Thing is, I don’t have any real confidence deep down, and maybe that’s what stops me passing, that I’m too shy, or that I might walk like a girl, or my height, or my voice, or my face shape. Or maybe Kiunna’s right, and us trannies do worry too much about passing

Being “stealth” means very different things to different people. You get some people who choose to be stealth, and see the bounds of that as telling their partner, but nobody else, whereas other people can see being stealth as not wearing the transgender logo on every single item of clothing, or maybe not shouting it from the rooftops. There is quite a noticeable divide in the trans* community between people who think being stealth is a good idea, and what should be aimed for, by any self-respecting trans person, and people who consider it cowardice, and denying ones heritage. I’m not out fully, but in areas where I present male, I’m typically not stealth, but more about that later.

I think that the trans* community is one that’s open to divides occuring (I’ve got another blog planned regarding those divides), but I think this one is an odd one.

From a stealth perspective, looking at people who are not stealth

• They aren’t assimilating, they are displaying their trans* status, therefore they are not proper men/women (the assumption that goes along with this is that to be a “real” man or woman, one should wish to hide the fact that one might have a different biological make-up to others)
• They make it harder for the rest of us to pass, because people are more aware of trans* people (on the other hand, they raise awareness, which helps when people want information or understanding, and surely people transition to be themselves anyway, not to help or hinder others passing)
• They just want the attention of being different (it seems a rather risky sort of attention to crave)

From the perspective of people who are not stealth, looking at people who are stealth

• They are ashamed of being trans*, and are hiding (choosing to protect oneself by not disclosing ones biological make-up and chromasomes does not equal being ashamed of it)
• They are doing nothing to help the next generation of trans* people (transitioning carries no obligation to help other trans* people)
• They are making things harder for themselves by not accepting that there is a difference between them and cispeople (to a lot of people genitals are irrelevant, so it might seem as if, on a day to day basis, there really is no difference between a trans* person and a cis person)

I’ve seen all those points made, from people who I had always tended to think were considered and rational, and it feels like in taking sides in this debate, people are ignoring the basic fact, that you transition because you need to for yourself. Transitioning is a basic selfish act, and that there is nobody who has the right to tell you to hide it or exploit it, any more than anyone else has the right to tell you to transition, or not to transition.

The reason I came to write this blog was because everywhere online that I interact as James Alexander Casimir Greyson, as a man, I internact as a transman. Or, should I say, everywhere except one place, where my boyfriend introduced me to his cisguy friend as male, not seeing the need to mention what was in my pants. However, we progressed to swapping photos of ourselves in varying levels of dress (or lack thereof) and I was shocked, astounded, surprised that the cisguy friend never stopped to realise that I wasn’t a cisguy, and hence that he’d seen me in boxers alone, and still seen me as male, not as trans*, but as male. (He hasn’t figured out that I’m a transguy yet even). This is my first experience at being stealth, and I’m not sure I like it, for myself it feels uncomfortably decietful, that he doesn’t know.

Does there honestly need to be a divide between people who choose to leave their trans* identity behind them, and people who don’t? I’ve seen some people who pass amazingly, and choose still to be relatively stealth, and I’ve seen people who are totally stealth do activism, and successfully. The community seems almost, as a whole, to seek out petty divides within itself, and cause argument for the sake of causing argument, for the sake of showing that everyone who is not identical to themselves is weird.

I will never be a “normal” man. I will never have a “normal” penis. I will never have XY chromasomes, I will never have had primary male socialization. What a lucky guy I am, I’ve got to grow up experiencing female socialisation, I get to have XX chromasomes, I’m lucky enough to have a sensate chest, to be able to bear children, and maybe I need to remember these benefits, rather than considering whether I’ll display or hide my differences. They’re still a part of me, whether I accept or reject them.

To all the older transitioners who tell me I’m doing what’s right

When I came out to myself as trans, I thought “okay, this makes it easy now. I’m trans, everything makes sense, I’ll go on testosterone, get top surgery, and then be happy”. I was an idealistic sixteen, and hoped that it was that simple. Nothing ever is.

I’m now 17, I call myself Jamie online, and by my birth name offline. I’ve been out to myself for a year, pretty much exactly (give or take about ten days), and I almost wish I hadn’t come out to myself.

I really do see how it can be harder for older transitioners to transition in many circumstances, and especially male-to-female, but I fail sometimes to see how that is easier than living a double life, living a lie to keep the people that you live with happy. My parents  haven’t accepted the idea of me being trans at all well, and I’m choosing to live as a girl until I leave college probably. Every week I have maybe one chance to present male, and then I tear myself apart getting dressed as a girl again, because it’s not me. People who barely know me have figured out I’m a transguy, where my parents call it a phase.

It’s not impossible to just live as a girl, maybe surprisingly it’s quite possible, but it isn’t a life worth living, and I’m going to be looking back on these two and a half years as the wasted years when I could have been getting on with my life, but instead spent them stuck in a rut waiting for a chance to get out. Alternatively I could see them as a place where I could deal with my issues.

Issues, yes. I have a lot of them, trust issues, abuse issues, eating issues (minimal, thanks be) and self harm issues, I could use this two and a half years to deal with those, so that I can start life as a well adjusted young man when I get out, but that doesn’t work, not when I go back into this unhealthy environment. Because it is unhealthy, I’ve gone back to being clinically depressed thanks to all of this. I say I can live with it, I can, so if it’s “transition or die” then I have no right to transition, because I can manage without, but that’s not how it works, I won’t live unless I do that.

There’s a lot more support out there for trans teenagers than there used to be. I’ve got amazing friends, and an amazing mentor, but sometimes it’s not enough, especially when people see me as trans before they see me as male, and I just want to live my life as a guy. It’s hard being young, I know exactly what I want and need, but I’m not allowed to go out there and get it, because I’m too young, so I’m left in this limbo instead.

I’m an intelligent boy, I would be looking at going to one of the best universities in the country if I hadn’t let being trans take over my college work, if I didn’t spend this whole time in a funk about not being able to be who I am, or at least not being able to be him, and have a managable life. I know things would be a lot harder if I forced coming out, I’d probably end up on a friends floor, but I’ve reasoned that that’s not going to work for me, that I’m not someone who could function so dependent on anyone for everything, and that I just have to do my best.

Sometimes, it’s easier just to stop, and think of how lucky I am, that I can live my whole life as a man, but often I can’t even do that.

This is a letter to all those older transitioners who keep telling me that it’s easier transitioning young.

It’s not easy

Jamie