A Thank You Note to the Trans Community
We are becoming more whole because of you
Things are getting scary out there. This world has never been a safe place for certain demographics. And never before has it been so openly violent toward trans people. (Which is saying a lot.)
In fact, if you look at the stages of genocide (yes, there are actual stages that have been outlined by scholars), we are rapidly heading into Stage 9 in America. And for those of you who don’t know or don’t have time to click on the link, there are only ten stages.
My heart breaks seeing the open contempt, hate, and violence being perpetrated on trans people every day. I am horrified to see our so-called democracy silence voices like Montana’s representative Zooey Zephyr, disgusted to hear GOP members across the country call for the “eradication” of the trans community, and devastated that no matter how hard we push back nothing seems to matter.
In the face of this hate and violence, I want to take a moment to celebrate trans people. To uplift them. To express my gratitude for them.
Because they deserve our love and gratitude…and so much more.
I never felt like a real woman. It’s hard for me to fully explain that because I always identified as a woman…but I never felt like a real woman.
I learned early on what a real woman is. Real women are thin but big-breasted. Real women are beautiful, with soft, delicate features. Real women are gentle, nice, quiet, and always agreeable. Real women are dainty and graceful. They move like swans in a ballet.
Real women attract lots of men. Real women are tiny enough to be literally picked up by their boyfriends.
Real women don’t sweat. Don’t blow their noses or wake up with morning breath. Real women aren’t supposed to burp or fart or pee or poop. Real women don’t get body odor or have stinky socks at the end of the day.
Real women don’t have any body hair. Any hair below the neck is shameful. Masculine. Dirty. Gross. The hair that is literally supposed to be there (underarm, leg, pubic) is not feminine. It’s a failure of womanhood and has to be removed regularly.
Real women don’t get bloated. Don’t have any body fat except for their breasts. Real women don’t like dessert or a plate of steak and potatoes. Real women have delicate constitutions that can only handle salads and granola.
Real women have a closetful of LBDs and high heels. Real women love fancy, feminine clothes, and covet one particular kind of dress above them all (the big, poofy white one). Real women wear makeup and style their hair before leaving the house. Real women sneak out of bed before their husbands wake in order to brush their teeth and put on a little blush.
Real women have husbands. Real women can’t wait to get married and have no trouble finding a man who is willing to get down on one knee. Real women hate their maiden names and can’t wait to be somebody’s Mrs.
Real women dream of having six kids, but are willing to compromise with their husbands and settle on three. Real women breastfeed while putting a roast in the oven, do the dishes with a smile on her face, serenely put the kids to bed, and can’t wait to cap off her night with a blow job for her husband.
Real women love sex, but pretend they don’t. Real women play out their husband’s dirtiest fantasies in the bedroom, but pretend nothing ever happened the next morning.
Real women are always happy. Always beautiful. Always confident and stress-free.
By the time I was 8 years old, I knew I would never be considered a real woman.
As I’ve reached middle age, I’ve come to understand something about the definition of womanhood. It’s a product of the patriarchal gender binary. It’s a personification of the very strict gender stereotypes that have been attributed to the “feminine” (which is, in itself, a social construct).
And here’s something else I’ve come to understand about the gender binary: it makes no room for humanness. Not for women, and not for men.
And that was always the point.
I have spent the majority of my life in despair over my perceived failings as a woman. And that despair has driven me to endlessly strive to meet those standards.
I did everything in my power to be the perfect woman, perfect female domestic partner, perfect wife-in-training to the boyfriend I lived with during my thirties, and even that wasn’t enough. Even at my best, he still found me so lacking that he left me for a twenty-year-old, seven years later.
For years, I internalized it. Worked it from every angle. Tried to figure out how to continue down that path and finally do it right.
Only I was tired. Further efforts to finally achieve real womanhood felt so exhausting to me, I literally couldn’t bear to even imagine it.
I wondered what it might be like to just surrender. To just stop trying so hard all the time to be a woman. I felt that somehow, that would make me a man — or rather, that the world would see me as a man because I’d so utterly failed at womanhood and wasn’t even trying anymore.
But at some point, I just didn’t have the strength to care.
In my forties, my “surrender” went so far that I stopped shaving. I got rid of my hot rollers and straightening iron. I threw most of my makeup in the trash and promised myself I would never put on high heels again.
I started playing with my gender identity. Was I a woman? Or was I a man?
And do you know how I figured out I could even ask such audacious questions? Because of the trans community.
In recent years, I’ve often said I identify as “more than a woman.” I’m still not sure what this means.
But I do know that “more than a woman” means I refuse to identify with the standard of womanhood that has been presented to me my whole life. I absolutely reject that.
What I learned about “real womanhood” is that “real women” are dolls. Objects. Stepford wives. “Real women,” as I said, are not human.
And I am a human, which is a lifeform that defies binaries, defies gender.
I never would have understood this if it weren’t for the trans community. I never would have gotten to this place in my life if it weren’t for the trans community. I never would have found so much peace if it weren’t for the trans community.
So to them I say, “Thank you.”
Thank you, trans community for opening my mind. Thank you for helping me to see that my pain had meaning. Because of you, I didn’t choose to just accept it and keep trying to correct what I’d been taught was the problem. Because of you, I let that pain inspire my curiosity. And it showed me self-love instead of reinforcing beliefs that stole my dignity.
Dignity. Isn’t that a beautiful word? Something we all deserve to experience? You are getting none from our society, but you gave dignity to us. To anyone who is brave enough to defy the gender binary. Your actions, your choices gave us dignity, gave me dignity, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
Thank you for leading me out of the misery of what I perceived to be my constant failure. Thank you for giving me the chance to take my humanity back. Thank you for showing me what it looks like to embrace my full self and define my gender in a way that fits exactly who I am.
Thank you for your creativity. Your independence. Your deep understanding of yourselves. You set such beautiful examples of self-love.
Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your courage. My god, you are brave, and have always been. You defy the undefiable. You risk everything to simply be who you are. You show me what it means to have strength and fortitude.
I know no one asked for this. You aren’t here to be a “movement” or implement social change. You just want to live your lives. Yet so many of you have stepped so purposefully into these roles, and with such grace and compassion. Thank you.
Thank you for existing. Thank you for sharing this world with us. Thank you for blessing us with your presence.
Thank you for being exactly who you are. Thank you for every part of yourself you have shared with the world. Thank you for showing up in every space in which you show up.
I am who I am because of the trans community. I feel such gratitude for them everyday. And in a world where they experience so much hate, my hope is that we protect them with our every word and action — which includes the expressions of our gratitude.
Trans friends, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
If you are a cisgender person, please leave a comment of your own gratitude!
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Why Childless Women Are Critical in the Process of Birthing the New World
The world has recently felt very scary for this single woman. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. It takes me back to the pandemic days, stuck at home alone for weeks at a time, worried I’d drop dead and no one would find me for months.
Yes, instead of being vilified they should be respected for the hell they have been through..however, that's not hardly our mean spirited world of today..damn it!
As a retired psychologist who has worked with transgender people I salute them for all that I have learned. I admire their courage and commitment to becoming their true selves. You have taught me what it means to be a real woman too. I’m angry at those who want to erase you, but I know they will not succeed. I’m sad about the pain you’ve always borne, and even more sad that your pain is growing larger. You will win in the end because the truth will always emerge.