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Polare 54 >> Article 3
The Bottom Line or Fools and Others I Have Met
by Laura Anne Seabrook
This is in many ways a reply to "On Acceptance and Employment", which
appearedinissue5l of Polare. My point is not so much as to correct the
opinions expressed therein, but to show that in dealing with others
(and especially with gender transition), "your mileage might vary", as
they say on the Internet.
The crux of the matter as I see it, is how we deal with other people.
Whether we're straight, bent, queer, trannie or whatever, we all live
in a social world of human relations and activities. We all interact
with others on a day-to-day basis, and so the attitude we take in
doing so is going to affect those interactions and our quality of
life.
Sometimes what appears to be a handicap can eventually turn into an
advantage. I had tonic-clonic epilepsy when I was very young, and
again between the ages eight and sixteen. Because of this I already
knew, before gender transition, what it was like to feel a freak, to
feel isolated and alienated. The epilepsy had other effects as well. I
took Dilantin (phenytoin sodium) three times a day. This androgynised
me more so than a normal male puberty would and my features became
much coarser. The result was that initially in my gender transition I
"passed" less often than I would like.
Back then, passing was much more important than it is now. I last
wrote on this back in Polare 28. Sometimes I think that MTF trannies
have it harder than FTMs. We live in a "patriarchal" society where
wealth and power (the ability to make meaningful decisions for
ourselves and others) is still largely concentrated in the hands of
males. That being so, males are still generally thought of as being
"the default", and we look for and see signs of masculinity more
quickly than those of femininity.
All of which means that being MTF can be pretty hard, if you let it.
So how does one deal with the multitudes that one encounters each day?
Here's how I divide them up, based upon my own experience (with
examples from my own transition).
Fools
The thing about fools is that there are just so many of them. I divide
Fools from others by the basic premise that fools are out to hurt you,
or at least promote their own interests at your expense. There are (in
my experience) four types of fools that you're most likely to meet:
Punters; Curiosity Seekers; Baiters and Wankers.
Punters
These are in some ways the least offensive of fools. They are people
who are out to get something (from you), at minimum cost to
themselves. Most often they want some form of sexual favour.
My first experience with punters was early in my transition. I was
walking home from food shopping and passed a man in the street. He
called out "Are you a man or woman?" (henceforth referred to as "the
question") At the time I didn't have a good answer to this question - not because of lack of identity, but lack of
confidence. I stopped and he seized on the opportunity.
Now I had just produced a twelve page booklet for people at work,
about what I was going through (I worked in a service area where I met
everybody) so I was still in an informative/educational frame of mind.
A big mistake! He seized on the opportunity to want "proof', like say
(as he suggested) having a grope of my breasts! I didn't comply and
left in a hurry. I met this person only once since and managed to
dodge him in a crowd.
Back then I was still very much a shrinking violet Nowadays I'd
probably tell someone like that to "fuckoff'.
Another encounter I had with punters was at the Taxi Club. I'd been in
Sydney for a few months (I originally hail from Perth) and heard about
this venue. I dressed up, and went with an associate from the hostel
where1 was staying. Within five minutes a punter latched on to me - he
was short, an unemployed plumber from Parramatta, and his wife had
just left him the week before. And, of course, he wanted me to go home
with him for sex. No drinks, no attempt at conversation, just straight
to the point.
At the time I was ambivalent about my sexuality (hadn't had any sex
since starting transition) and I even might have considered it a
compliment, but what would I have felt like afterwards, after having
an oily stranger all over me? No wonder his wife had left him.
Naturally I turned him down.
And there's the thing about punters, they always think they can
manipulate you into getting what they want. If it's also what you
want, fair enough, but encounters with punters will often leave a sour
taste (no pun intended) long after they've gone.
Curiosity Seekers
These are a variation of punter, but less overt. The thing with
curiosity seekers is that they think (perhaps due to an upbringing on
Jerry Springer and Reality TV shows) that because they know one thing
about you, that you're open game for any sort of question, and have no
right to a private life.
Hence, the question from a curiosity seeker isn't just one question,
but the opening gambit of a series of ever invading personal questions
from them. And most often these questions are asked in the most public
of places, like shopping centres or waiting for the bus. Such people
are more pests than anything else. The best ways I've found to deal
with them is either respond as if the question they just asked seems
so improbable that they must be either extremely rude or imbecilic, or
to engage in sparring on their own terms.
Here's another example. I was waiting for a bus in Adelaide Terrace
early Sunday evening. There was only one other person waiting, a short
fat man who (as I sat down) was talking to a passer-by. He came up and
asked the question.
I was in a much more confident mood than before, and answered back
"WHAT SORT OF QUESTION IS THAT TO ASK A 'LADY'?!" I kept up this tone
for some minutes until the bus came. He was apologetic and kept his
distance. The thing was, I hadn't actually answered the question had
I, since 'lady' can mean many things.
Another example- I was at NOWSA '98 (see Polare 28 - a difficult
position to be in, as I was treated as a representative for all
trannies) and one of the other students there expressed her curiosity
about someone like myself. I agreed to answer questions later, but it
became obvious when that time came that she was more a curiosity
seeker than someone genuinely interested. I agreed to answer more and
more personal questions, provided that she gave me "tit for tat" -that
is, answered the same sort of questions, but in relation to herself.
She shut up, and let me alone.
Baiters
These are the most dangerous of fools. A baiter might first appear to
be either a punter or a curiosity seeker, but the purpose of the
question in their hands, isn't to elicit information, but to stimulate
a response so that they know they've hooked something.
Most baiters I've encountered have issues with power - or rather their
lack of it. Because they lack power, baiters feel insecure, and seek
to reassure themselves by inflicting some form of pain upon others,
because that can be seen as an exercise in (however limited) power
itself. Baiters like to target people who belong to minorities because
either they think such people can't fight back, or because they're
easy to blame.
My first real taste of baiters was when I first moved to Newcastle.
After a short stay with friends, I found a very cheap flat in a suburb
called Carrington part of the docklands area of Newcastle. It's a
"rough area" and at its height there were seven pubs operating in an
eight square Ian area. Now it's depressed and the only thing open
after 7.00pm are the surviving pubs.
It's also the home of a thriving Aboriginal community. After I moved
in I was targeted by elements of that community's teenage population.
Within a week of moving in, I had about a dozen teenagers on my front
veranda, all wanting to ask questions about who and what I was. Only,
some of them didn't really want me to answer. I shut the door on them
and in retrospect this might not have been the thing to do. There
after the teenage boys hounded me.
Every chance they'd get, they'd try and bait me, to get a response
from me so that they could hurt me. Sometimes I played the game, other
times I didn't. Kids would come past the flat, run up and kick at the
front door. It came off twice.
On one occasion I was ready waiting behind the door with a kitchen
knife, and cornered the offender in the front yard of the house next
door. I did this more for "effect" than anything else, and that too
was a mistake (a group of them were waiting around the comer for me -
I could have ended up dead).
Then one evening it got too much. My severance pay from the public
service had just come through, and friends had just helped me find a
car to buy. They'd just dropped me off at my front door. It was dark,
and before I entered the flat I heard a "Yeah, a man fer shure!!!" out
of the dark.
It scared the shit out of me, and that night I just couldn't get to
sleep. I was in tears and went to see Mary, who lived in the back
flat.
I told her what was wrong, and how I'd been harassed by some of the
Aboriginal youth in the area. As it happened, she knew the matriarch
of the local "mob" (as Mary put it) and told me that she'd have a word
with her the following day. She did and unbelievably the attacks and
harassment stopped from the day after. Later, when I met the matriarch
in person I thanked her. When the opportunity came to move away from
Carrington and into my own house though, that's exactly what I did.
Still, the lesson wasn't wasted on me. A few years later when my car
(the one my mends had found) was off the road and I had to catch a
local bus from a private company into Newcastle University I faced a
similar situation. Before it arrived a school bus waited in position
ahead of where it would park. Students would then get off my bus and
onto the school bus. A group of students on the school bus took to
calling me names and throwing things at me. I waited this out for a
few weeks before I'd had enough.
I got on the bus, asked the driver what school it went to, and what
suburb the students carne from. I then wrote to the school explaining
the situation. It was a private Catholic school, and I had a letter of
apology from the Principal, and a personal letter of apology from the
student involved (who also asked me not to blame the school), and the
harassment stopped dead.
What I'd done in both cases was make myself a more costly target for
the baiters to attack I'd found out who had authority over the
offenders, and taken the issue to them. Sometimes there is no higher
authority, and no police about, and discretion is the better part of
valour, rather than forcing the issue.
Lately this sort of stuff doesn’t affect me much at all. A week ago,
as I was in the cafeteria at TAFE with some fellow students (I’m
currently on a Library Course), someone shouted “So, are you really a
guy then?” It took five seconds to register with me, that I was the
one being shouted at. By that time, though the moment had passed, and
the reaction they’d been expecting didn’t happen. I never found out
who called out, nor could I care less, because the bottom line is, (I
guess) that I really don’t consider myself a “guy”, and those that try
such tactics ought to get a life. Ah the joys of being post-operative.
Wankers
The last bunch of fools is a bit more elusive. “Wanker” is such
pervasive and all purpose insult that we forget exactly what it means.
In this instance I’m talking about folk who don’t see you as a person
as such, but for whatever reason, a stereotype. Wankers come in all
shapes and sizes, and the net effect of meeting or dealing with one is
that they don’t really deal with you, but who they think you are,
based on or maybe one or two bits of information about you.
Lots of Wankers are real racists, because it’s easier to talk about
“Blacks”, “Asians” or “Wogs” than it is to treat others like people.
If I’d been a wanker myself then after my baiting in Carrington I
might have claimed that all Aboriginals were bad, or that teenagers
can’t be trusted – such assertions though miss the point that it was
just individuals dealing with other individuals.
Unfortunately some feminists are also wankers, because they lose track
of the difference between theory and reality, finding ways to maintain
the barricades against the “trans-offender”.
It comes as a shock when those you've been close to turn out to be
Wankers.
Here's my experience (with a sequel). An “ex-“ (I currently have two)
worked in the (then) Commonwealth Employment Service as a case worker.
One day a transperson came in for an interview about prospective
employment. Because my ex- knew me (I'd just started transition) she
told the client "I know what you are" and proceeded to give her
fashion tips! Naturally enough that client complained; after all, she
hadn't gone there to talk about her appearance, but about possible
employment.
My ex- approached me to write a letter in support in her favour. I
said I would, but after almost a week of procrastination I found I
just couldn't. The truth was that my ex- was an insensitive clod who,
just because she knew me, knew nothing about the other person. Saying
"I know what you are" can have any number of meanings to the other
person, and in truth my ex was very mistaken. She had no idea of just
who the client was at all.
Years later I was in Katoomba visiting a friend. We're in the town
hall on a fair day and I'm reading Tarot while she's selling herbs.
Outside it seems there's another reader (which explained why I didn't
have many clients) and on a whim I decided to have a reading by him.
At the time I was dressed very casually, wearing an old shirt and long
skirt, neither of which was very flattering. As we start the reading
he says to me "I know what you are" and I accepted it on face value.
Later, as I go to pay him, he says "gracias senor" and it becomes
obvious to me that he doesn't know what! am - instead he thinks that
I'm a gay guy. At the time l was annoyed and irritated, but now I
realise that if he was off on that, his reading was also very suspect.
A few years later when I went to a pagan piss-up (yes, we do have
them) in a regional RSL club, I was told by a drunk participant "I
know all about you, I used to live next to the Albury in Oxford St".
Apparently they'd mistaken me for a drag queen. They got a rude
rebuttal. Sometimes friends and associates (see below) turn into a
form of wanker. You can tell this by the fact that no matter what you
started discussing with them, the subject eventually spirals around to
some facet of your trans status. When that happens, you know they're
more interested in that, than they are in you. Sure, it's reasonable
that a mend might take an interest in your transition and how it
affects your life, but there's a difference between concern and morbid
curiosity. You can tell that difference by weighing up how much the
details mean to you (and after a while it's all "old stuff', if you've
moved on), and how much it means to them.
The mild form of wanker is someone who looks at you and makes side
comments or giggles to a companion, or gives you a strange grin as
they pass you. My response to that (depending on mood) is to either
look at them in a totally indifferent manner (I can stare down anyone
other than my cats), give them the finger (when I'm in a really bad
mood) or find an excuse to talk to them about something. The latter
puts them in personal contact, which is probably closer than they’d
like to be, but it also puts their rudeness in perspective. Wankers
can be extremely annoying, but only if you let them. The main thing to
remember is that just because they hold an opinion, that doesn’t make
that opinion true.
Others
Well if that’s it for fools (and I’m sure that readers of Polare can
add many other categories), what about the others? There are fewer
categories of these. I divide them into Friends and Associates, Family
and Strangers.
Friends and Associates
What’s the difference between a friend and associate? It’s almost like
telling the difference between lemon and lime. Both friends and
associates can share the same activities and interests, maybe the same
experiences and jokes. But friends are closer than associates, and it
can come as a shock to realise that someone you thought as a friend is
really just an associate. Confused? The difference is when conditions
change, the bad times come or when you’re in need. Friends will like
you for who you are, and help you if they can. You can be friends with
someone and not see them for years, and then just pick up where you
left off. A close friend (and most people have maybe a handful of
those in a lifetime) is someone you can share your pain/
boredom/problems with, and still be a friend. A friend is someone whom
it's nice to have approval from. It becomes important when you don't
have their approval, because it can hurt.
Associates on the other hand will come into contact with you, not
because they like you, but because you're involved in the same
activity. Associates can be workmates, hobbyists, people in a
particular "scene", other trannies or anyone where the focus of the
mutual activity brings you together. The grief comes in treating
associates as friends, and expecting them to act as such. Expecting
approval from associates is a dangerous and unpredictable activity.
You might get it, but only conditionally.
Long before I faced my gender issues, I was a science fiction fan. For
twenty years I was involved in "fandom", a community of science
fiction literature and media fans. This was always a bitter-sweet
relationship. I enjoyed the subject matter, but I was also looking for
a level of community that for me, wasn't there. After I started my
gender transition, and was still employed in the public service, I had
every intention of remaining in local fandom. I attended one Swancon
(local annual convention) as Laura. The reception was very mixed.
I was in fact, looking for approval from fandom and got upset when I
didn't get it. In fact, when I ended my "geographical" that I'd done
in Sydney and returned to Perth, one of the first things I did was
attend that year's Swancon, which 1'd already committed myself to. I
was under a lot Qf stress at the time, and realised that there just
wasn't what I was looking for, where I was looking for it I got
suicidal (twenty years of chasing something that didn't exist has an
impact) and ended up in Royal Perth Hospital for observation.
In fact, fandom is a mixed community and the vast bulk of those I met
in it were associates, not friends. The bottom line for fandom, and
for any "scene" or "social arena" where you're active (including a
trans one), is to be able to differentiate between associates and
friends. Extend your friendship to all if you wish, but only share
personal emotional content with friends, or you'll get hurt when they
don't reciprocate.
Family
Family differ from friends and associates in that you can't choose
them. Rather, they come with how one comes into this world, and how
our affections develop. We may die alone, but we are always born with
at least one other person, our biological mother.
Of course, thereafter, anything goes. You can get adopted/fostered
out, left in an orphanage, abused or neglected. You can meet a "soul
mate", spouse or have a string of partners (or not); have any number
of children (either by natural means, W or adoption) and any amount of
extended family.
There are no guarantees in this life the bottom line this time though
is that, in general, families are people we know very well, and care
about (and hope that they care about us reciprocally). Because of
this, dealing with families can be the most awkward and sensitive
matter. I'm no expert when it comes to this (or really, any of the
above). I have my own experience which on the whole has been positive.
The first member of my immediate family that I "came out" to was my
brother Mark, when he was helping me move furniture into anew flat. I
more or less mentioned it as an aside before we tackled the sofa. J
also asked him not to tell anyone else just yet. The next person was
my mother. I took her to see the film "The Sum of Us" which is about a
gay son and a straight father, who love each other in an honest
fashion. She thought that I was going to come out as being gay, so the
transsexual angle really surprised her.
Both Mark and Mum were in shock for a few days, but coming out, as we
all know, was a necessary step before gender transition. I next met my
father by accident. It was the day that I mark the "official" start of
my transition from - the day my name change came through - and I met
him just outside the barber's where he regularly had his haircut. I
gave him a copy of the brochure that I'd made for work but didn't tell
anything further.
It was a few days later, while I was on long-service leave, that I
first visited my parent's house as Laura. I can still remember walking
down the driveway dressed. I saw my father looking at me and smiling,
and then looking away with a frown. This hurt me for a long time. But
my father isn't that young. He fought in the Pacific in WWI I, and is
very set in his ways.
I guess, even if I thought that I wanted approval from my family, what
I really wanted was love and understanding. Perhaps, I think, the
first is easier to come by than the second. Someone can love you
without understanding you, and I believe that's what my family does.
You can love someone and still disagree with them. My other brother
Vaughan, suggested that! was making a mistake and that a six month
world tour was an antidote. I know that by the end of that tour
nothing would have changed.
In the end, I also knew that my future wasn't in Perth, and I moved to
Newcastle to start a university course and otherwise make a new life
for myself I still keep in contact with my family, but this is mostly
by phone with Mum. After my father had a stroke and ended up in a
nursing home, I made of point of flying over to visit him. The thing
was, I loved him, and wanted to see him before he died. I also knew,
that even if he didn't understand me, that he loved me.
I guess I'm lucky in this respect because I'm still talking to my
family. There are many others like me who either can't or don't. The
family situation can be the most painful one. My bottom lines were
listed above, what are yours?
Strangers
And here we come to the last subcategory, strangers. No need for a
definition since strangers are folk you don't know. You wouldn't think
that I'd need to talk about how to deal with strangers, but I do. Why?
Because lots of trannies seem to behave differently to strangers post
transition than the way they did pre transition.
Before transition, did you walk down the street and worry about what
the person walking the other way on the other side of the street
thought? Probably not. But a lot of trannies do post-transition. Part
of this (and the impetus for "passing") is the worry that strangers
will turn into one of the variety of fools listed above (and someone
asking the question will do just that).
And yet, can you live your life perpetually in paranoia and fear? I
don't think so. At some point hopefully (and sometimes this takes
years) you might come to the same conclusion as I did. To quote "The
Cowboy and the Farmer should be Friends" in "Oklahoma!": "I don't say
I'm no better than anybody else, but I’ll be danged if I ain't just as
good!" And this I think is the start of that thin line (which I've
referred to as a bottom line) between needing/wanting other people's
approval, and settling for your own instead.
The Bottom Line
That's the point of this whole article too. The truth is that in most
cases you don't need other people's approval, but in the long run, you
do need your own. Life can be very lonely and confusing at times, but
you don't have to be trannie to know or experience that. We are not
special cases when it comes to this, but very much a part of humanity.
It's up to us to make an effort so that, being trannie or not, we have
friends, family and associates: to help us get through this life; to
share the good and bad times with; and to enrich the experience in
doing so. No one said that was easy, for anyone, let alone us. But the
effort is the point, and in the long run much more satisfying than if
everything fell into our laps.
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the SAAP Program and supported by the NSW Health Department through the AIDS and Infectious Diseases Branch. Polare provides a forum for discussion
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Opinions expressed in this publication do not necessarily reflect those of the Editor, The Gender Centre Inc., the Department of Community Services
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