–“The World I Used to Be Afraid Of” by Blanche

Some of the first gay films I ever saw dealt also with the subject of the early days of HIV/AIDS, films like Longtime Companion, Angels In America, and Love! Valour! Compassion!, and Jeffrey (this still continues today with viewings of The Witnesses, Parting Glances, and The Living End). I was a confused new teenager with cable and insomnia, so I would stay up and watch anything that had to do with homosexuality (with a particular fixation on gay men, even then I felt more akin to them than to lesbians). It just happened that most of the films I saw were a little before my time.

I am pretty fresh and sheltered when it comes to the history and realities of HIV/AIDS in our community; I wasn’t born until the early 90’s, have almost always lived in suburbia, and have never known anyone who has HIV/AIDs, let alone died from it.  According to Larry Kramer, that puts me in the league of the lazy, uneducated gays of my generation by default (after he admonishes me for calling myself queer).  However, I strive to be neither purposefully ignorant nor excessively fearful.

Dame, die sich die Hände wäscht by Gerard ter Borch, taken from Wikimedia Commons

As I try to enter the world of dating and sex, I find myself periodically asking the question, “Would I date someone who was positive?” “Would I still hook up with them after they told me?” Looking at the OkCupid and ManHunt profiles of cute guys who are brave enough to clearly admit their status in their profiles (because, it is hard to be upfront about things that are often considered “less than ideal”), it certainly doesn’t rule them out in my mind. If you want to be ruled out in my book then show an open dislike for intellectual pursuits or put something along the lines of “no fats or flamers” in your profile.

There is definitely still a lot of unfair treatment and generalizations made. I can relate in more than one way to being stigmatized for a medical issue and have it become an automatic disqualifier in people’s eyes. There is this judgment that you can see pass through people’s eyes, and often that appalling silence that follows or that damn “Oh…” followed by the silence and judgment.  I don’t have HIV/AIDS, so I cannot fully understand, but I’d like to think I can at least make an effort not to be prejudiced despite my unintentionally sheltered upbringing.

It is really interesting hearing what my peers think about HIV and people who happen to have it.  For the most part, it seems more like a punchline to them than anything else.  With the exception of some of the social justice types with their sights firmly set on Africa and Bono, it seems to have disappeared from the mindset of those around me except in the form of a joke or an eyeroll when adults lecture about the importance of protection.  Our thoughts seem so separate from the interpersonal side of things.  I wonder what their responses would be if I asked, “Would date someone who was positive?” If it is anything like the responses I hear from many people about the question, “Would you date someone who is transgender?”, then clearly we have some things we need to talk and think about these matters on a personal, human level rather than technical terms and afterschool specials.

“Search for meaning in sores

–“Sympathy” by Sleater-Kinney

I have the amazing power to make people’s heads explode.  How do I do it?  I can merely just out myself.  The problem is that this usually follows a bunch of questions that I really don’t want to answer (either because I’ve answered them before or they are put in an invasive/offensive way).  This superpower and the consequences of it could most likely primarily be traced to the audience of this information.

I may have mentioned before that I go to a pretty progressive and liberal campus.  You would think that I would take advantage of this fact by hanging around with as many understanding and informed students as I could.  Well…It didn’t really work out that way in terms of where I mainly haunt on campus (when I am not pacing up and down). Of all the places I could pick to spend my time, I picked hanging around with the Orthodox Jewish kids.

Now, this not to say that all Orthodox kids are sheltered and completely aware of LGBTQ identities, because that’s certainly not true.  Actually, my two best and most accepting friends on campus happens to be a straight, cisgender Orthodox guy and his girlfriend. Yet, on the whole, it hasn’t been a pretty picture.  There are people who have known me for almost a year, have heard people refer to me as “he” or as a guy, but still call me “she” or include me in statements such as “we have x number of girls right now”

There is now a well-known incident amongst my friends in which a person, being told that I was male-identified and that there were certain questions that are rude to ask. Well, what kind of questions am I suddenly ambushed with by this person at dinner? “So…What are you biologically?” I kid you not.  I nearly had a panic attack after that whole event because I was afraid of what kind of questions that I’d get from other people or what she’d try to get me shunned/ousted from being a part of the campus Hillel for religious reasons.  Luckily, she didn’t…But it is easy to tell that she seems quite uncomfortable with my presence.  Plus, I am rather sure her grandma gave me a weird look when her family visited recently (oh my…Did someone do the “Guess what I just met!” phone call home?).  Another, lesser-known incident (with a different person) involves being told at Shabbat dinner that Levi is a great, Biblical (and male) name and that she’d love to name her future son Levi…But then about 20 minutes later explicitly referring to me as “one of the women” that was there.

At this point, I really don’t try to correct some of these students when they get my gender identity and pronouns wrong. Partially because I don’t want a repeat incident, and partially because being the first trans person that someone has ever encountered can be pretty rough. There are some fellow queer students that keep their relationships an open secret around the same circles because they don’t want others to be uncomfortable.  So, I can’t tell whether or not they already know and just refuse to deal with it or if they are just going off my appearance and voice (which I have said before honestly does not “pass” as male very well).  It is an interest contrast to the rest of campus, where when they hear someone call me “he” enough times or a friend say “Levi’s a boy”, almost always tend to either correct themselves without fanfare, or profusely apologize for thinking/calling me otherwise.

Personally, I don’t want to be anyone’s representation for the trans community.  I don’t want to be the first person to try to explain the difference between gender identity and sexual orientation.  Honestly, I’d prefer not to have to clean up brain matter after I tell people that I’m trans and gay. But I guess that I may have to if I want my identity to be respected.

By Russss, taken from Wikimedia Commons

“I’m so tired, sheep are counting me
No more struggle, no more energy
No more patient and you can write that down
It’s all too crazy and I’m not sticking round”

–”I’m So Tired” by Fugazi

There is this intense feeling of numbness and exhaustion in the days following a horrific event in a family (or family-like circle of friends,) especially when one hasn’t really been sleeping anyway. The headache that I had for a week probably wasn’t helping to cure the numbness and exhaustion either. But at least now I have classes as a reason to force myself to go to sleep in order to be mostly functional.

Being away from home is probably a blessing and a curse in this situation. The blessing is that I no longer think about it every single day, because I have to focus on other things like classes and interacting with people. It is a curse because I feel out of the loop with that is going on, am not physically around to be helpful anymore, and most worrisome of it all, I have no idea whether or not I’m still a powder keg of emotion and rage. Is it still going to hit me at some random time that this traumatic and ongoing thing happened? What will happen when it does?

I honestly don’t know how the rest of my family is currently coping, everything seemed really normal after initial event. Quiet, but it was relatively normal. It confused the fuck out of me, but I tried to go along with it. Now that I am away from my family, I can’t look to them to see the correct way to act about things…I’m essentially on my own when it comes to this. Then again, I feel roughly the same about my transition…And I’m barely handling that well. With the forcing back into socialization through returning back to campus, my ability to deal with both trauma and the daily (and increased dysphoria) is compromised. I feel like the walking dead, but am also horribly hyper-aware of a lot of things. It is a really odd feeling, kind of creepy and unnerving in a way.

I know there is a road to recovery; I’m just trying to find out what it is and how it will work out for me. How have you all coped in these kinds of situations?

“Hold me, hold me in your arms
Well, now heal me, heal me with your touch
Your touch keeps me hangin’ on”

–”Hold Me In Your Arms” by the Black Keys

I don’t hug people. It is something that people tend to learn about me rather quickly. Every time someone comes in to hug me, I tense up, unsure of what is going on or how to react. It ends up that most of the time that I either awkwardly accept the fact that I am being hugged or that I do the ‘one-armed half-hug’.

Actually, I distinctly remember one girl flat-out telling me, “I really need to teach you how to hug properly”. She gave me instructions on three different hugs, and the next time she saw me I tried to follow her directions to the letter. “Better”, she said, “though you don’t have to be focus on doing it exactly right”. I smiled slightly, though a bit embarrassed that my mechanical nature to basic human acts had still shone through.

In high school, I would make it well-known that I disliked hugs or any kind of unwarranted invasion of my personal space. The underclassmen that were so fond of running up and giving hugs were quelled from these actions by my promises of physical harm and/or death. I eventually relented somewhat and let them pet me on the shoulder… but not before first asking if it was okay. For the most part, I would greet my friends by ruffling their hair or with a near-punch done in surprise attack. When I got to college, the approach changed to surprise raptor attacks, but at least I no longer threatened people if they tried to hug me.

My dislike of hugs has taken a new turn the past couple of years. No longer can my discomfort be strictly pinned on my life-long reluctance towards physical contact. It has definitely become a dysphoria issue at this point.

The fact of the matter is that I haven’t had chest surgery and probably won’t be able to for at least 3 or 5 years. Try as I might with layering, binding, etc… the chest exists. I can cover it up as best as I can, but I am hyper-aware that they can be felt when someone hugs me… or at least that’s what I worry. I also worry that it prevents the other person from really just thinking of me as just a guy with no adjective in front of that word (and no unwelcome flesh in front of me). Doesn’t matter who it is hugging me, the person could be queer, straight, cis, trans, whatever; it is always a concern in floating around in my head.

The queer community is a very affectionate one. As opposed to my experiences with cis and straight spaces, queer spaces are filled with a lot of kissing, hugging, and other friendly touches. It was quite a surprise to meet adults who would physically embrace me while still an acquaintance. The first time I met this one person at college the day I moved into the dorms, she hugged me while wearing only a bra and pants. It does make you feel welcome; but when you hate your body, being that close to a new person can be rather jarring. I am still trying to figure out how to handle this as well as my own bodily malcontent. At least I have a few more years to sort it all out, if you want to try to spin it positively. Damn, this sucks.

By Guerillero, taken from Wikimedia Commons

“Kids don’t follow
What you’re doin’
In my face and out my ear
Kids won’t follow
What you’re saying
We can’t hear”

–”Kids Don’t Follow” by The Replacements

I don’t turn 21 years old until February 2012. I have never really been one for alcohol, so I really don’t care about the legal drinking aspect. No, it is the fact that I lack the freedom of movement until that time I turn that “magical” age.

Though Ian MacKaye is still alive and kicking in the area, his influence hasn’t seemed to have translated to the queer scene in DC much. Yeah, there are organizations like SMYAL that are for people 13-21, but if I wanted to hang around teenagers, then I’d hang out with my younger brother and his high schooler friends. That doesn’t cut it for me; I want to hang out with the big dogs. Besides, I am kind of known for preferring the company of people older than me (especially when it comes to dating). I’d say that almost all of my friends in DC are older than me, most by at least 5 years and some by about a decade.

The bad thing about having older friends while underage is the fact that going-out plans have to be changed or reconsidered to fit my limitations, or I end up not being able to go at all. There are many bars that flat-out do not allow people under 21. Needless to say, this gets increasingly frustrating, especially since I don’t want to drink at all. This is also frustrating for my friends, who want to go out and have fun, but also want me with them. I could call out some of these places by name, but some of them have been very kind to TNG and the queer community.

I have praised TNG for events like Homo/Sonic and Transformer for being all ages. In fact, I first met Zack (who encouraged me to contribute to the site) at Homo/Sonic when I was 18 years old. Sadly, there hasn’t been a Homo/Sonic since March (I remember because I was on Spring Break) and Transformer went by the wayside quite a while ago. Both mostly took place at the wonderful Black Cat, which, as a punk club, has always kept MacKaye’s ethos alive by putting Xs on the hands of the underage rather than excluding us.

Right now, I have to admit, I’m more than a little pissed off with TNG. Lately, there has not been a single event that I have been able to attend. Beat City, She Rex, and the like have all been at 21+ venues. Hell, I didn’t get to go to Zack’s DJing farewell party because of where it is held. The biggest downside is that, rather than getting to be around fellow queer people and supportive friends, I have spent a lot of Friday and Saturday nights of my summer being forced to stay in my hometown closet (as I’ve mentioned before, there is no queer scene or support system in my hometown for about 25 miles). I honestly feel that part of this lack of space is laziness, that places would rather exclude underage people rather than take the extra steps to let them in and monitor them from drinking (like the Black Cat does).

I know there are other “young adults” like me out there who are frustrated by this; I’ve talked to them before (yes, sometimes I do actually associate with my peers). When I was still at community college, I remember hearing at least one girl lament that she couldn’t find a lesbian bar that wasn’t 21+ where she could go and openly meet and dance with other queer women. Even when school is in session, you really feel the need to occasionally escape often-incestuous queer group of your college (sometimes you don’t want to make out with someone and have to see them in your Economics class on Monday). At least, Apex, for the mixed feelings people had about it, was actually a place where gay 18+ young adults could go hang out and dance (there was even a weekly free night for college students), but it has recently shut down. That pretty much leaves us up shit’s creek until something changes.

So what’s a queer underage student to do? Where do we go? Maybe it is time for us to rally our forces and demand our right to be treated like the legal adults that we are.

“So you think you can push me around
And make me run
Well I’m gonna tell you now
I’m gonna get me a gun
I’m gonna get me a gun
And all those people who put me down
You better get ready to run,
Cuz I’m gonna get me a gun”

–”I’m Going to Get Me a Gun” by Cat Stevens

I’ve always been more pragmatic than pacifist. That being said, I’ve also never physically hurt someone in my entire life, even those who deserved it or in self-defense. However, as I become more and more aware (and disillusioned) of the world around me, the more I feel compelled to arm myself.

I’m a pretty easy target; I’ve known that since I was a kid. It happens that I’m a shrimpy nerd, frequently alone, a person of colour, a trans person who doesn’t “pass”, and not straight…Any of those could cause someone to mug or bash me. I’ve been lucky so far, but there have been close calls…High school was pretty much entirely a close call, a group of girls harassing me at a metro station that I was worried were going to follow me, and a late-night metro ride where a guy was very angry (started getting too close for my comfort and was cursing me out) that I wouldn’t let him “borrow” my cell phone.

Trans people are very much at high risk for assault; the statistics are rather abysmal, to say the least. There’s reason to be vigilant. I’ve written before about crimes against trans people, ones in my area. It is nerve-wrecking even just to walk into a public restroom in a new place (in fact, I know some who just flat-out avoid unknown restrooms, even at their own health/comfort expense). Groups like the Pink Pistols arose because of real threats to the queer community.

I’ve been thinking about getting a knife. It is hard not to walk into a sporting goods store, see those hunting knives and think “Nobody would mess with me if I had that or at the very least I’d have a fighting chance”. I admit that part of my desire is based on that psychological comfort. I managed to get through high school without any real physical injury by cultivating the idea that I would bring about bloody retaliation. It wasn’t the best plan of action, but it kept me from harm. At least I’m not planning to get a machete (an ex of mine had at least one).

This isn’t the only way to approach personal safety, though. And I am pretty sure that some of you readers won’t agree with my methodology. Many college campuses and recreation centers offer self-defense classes, often for free or rather inexpensively. Unfortunately, many of these classes are exclusively for women only, and some have discriminated against trans women. Ergo, I stay just stay away (I’d feel really uncomfortable anyway). Taking specific martial arts classes can be time-consuming (taking years to gain proficiency) and expensive. However, a can of Mace or some pepper spray is pretty cheap. “Avoid dangerous situations” is kind of a vague and ridiculous suggestion (some things are unavoidable), but I at least recommend that one exercise caution and hypervigilance. Buddy systems are great as well. My friends always ask me to call or text them to tell them that I got home safely when I have to travel on the metro late at night alone. For people involved in sex work, there are some great organizations out there, like HIPS (http://hips.org/) in DC that can help with safety issues. No judgments here, I just want people to be safe regardless of their past and current histories or occupations, especially trans people.

Anything I left our or suggestions you all have? Comment below or email me. I would say “Live long and prosper”, but it isn’t nearly as cool (read: nerdy) if you can’t see me do the Vulcan hand gesture.

"Boots on TV" by Alex Jacobi, taken from Wikimedia Commons

“People knock on my door, ringing my phone
Telling me the things I gotta get done today
To satisfy them, but what about me?
Lately I’ve been wishing I was brain dead
No responsibilities in my head today
Maybe we’ll see what’s on TV”

–“Nothing With You” by the Descendents

This is not the Summer of Love (unless you’re offering to make it such); this is the Summer of My Netflix Account and DVR. In my adventures in screen-viewing, I have learned one basic tenet:  You have to go through a lot of shit to find a gem. This is especially true when trying to find portrayals of trans and intersex characters that aren’t cringe-worthy or hollow two-dimensional characters. We have to sit through Boys Don’t Cry (which will make you want to hide in the closet forever), Quagmire’s Dad episode of Family Guy, The L Word,” and the like.

Here are five episodes or films that didn’t make me want to bang my head against a wall:

Warning: Major Spoilers Ahead

1. Degrassi: The Next Generation, episodes “My Body Is a Cage Part 1 and 2” (2010)

Every time I completely write off Degrassi, it finds some way to pull me back in. Degrassi did an interesting and brilliant thing in not revealing that the character Adam Torres was trans. He was just portrayed as an ordinary underclassman boy who liked comics and hanging out with his best friends. So he already had a fanbase (and quite a few straight teen girls who thought he was cute) before these two episodes aired. He comes out to his best friends and, though they have a few trans 101-type questions, they are perfectly accepting. Adam desperately wants to be a regular kid though, mentioning how annoyed he is that he can’t play contact sports like his older brother, and then gets brutally rejected and outed after the girl he’s flirting with finds out he’s trans, which leads to some horrific bullying. It also shows his family’s path to real acceptance, who still have trouble with pronouns and letting go of their “daughter,” though they love and support Adam.  I really hope Degrassi doesn’t fuck this up later (as they tend to do).

2. XXY (2007)

This is a gorgeously shot little film out of Argentina that centers on an intersex teenager. Alex, living in a small coastal town with her parents, is raised female, but is clearly rebelling against that placed identity. When a doctor and his family come to visit, at the suggestion of Alex’s mother, we learn that the intention is to wager on the idea of genital surgery to make Alex “more female.” The parents and the doctor figure out that Alex has been hiding away the estrogen pills rather than taking them, and are very torn about this. Alex’s mother is the one pressuring her to consider surgery, while her father believes in the right to choose on her own how to live, whether it is as his daughter or his son.

Alex also forms a close and sexual bond with the quiet, gay son of the doctor, which in turn causes him to be more accepting of his sexuality and less introverted. Both are teenagers discovering who they are and their path to happiness, like everyone did at that age, queer or not. In the end, Alex chooses not to continue hormone treatments or have surgery and decide for herself (or himself, the film deliberately leaves the final decision ambiguous), and everyone else in the film in altered for the better.

3. Freaks and Geeks, episode “The Little Things” (2000)

This was one of the three episodes that were unaired during the original NBC run, and it was actually one of the first two Freaks and Greeks episodes I ever saw. Also, one of the very few times on a mainstream US broadcast that an intersex character isn’t played for laughs or shock-value. It also deals with gender identity vs. sexual orientation.  When Ken’s (played by Seth Rogen) girlfriend Amy tells him in a moment of intense trust that she was actually born intersex (yet asserts that she’s absolutely a girl), Ken doesn’t immediately reject her; he is confused, but initially says that he’s fine with it. After getting some cruel remarks from his closest guy friends who say that he’s gay because she’s “not really a girl,” Ken starts to act more distant towards Amy, who then feels like he’s rejecting her.

After figuring out that he’s not gay in a scene involving experimentation with 80s gay porn magazines and dance music, (which shows the lack of information available about gay people in pre-Internet suburbia) Ken still feels pressured to break up with Amy even though he clearly really likes and cares about her.  In a chance encounter in the bathroom hearing about Sam’s girlfriend problems (she treats him badly, is a Republican, and likes none of the same stuff he does), Ken realizes that Amy is a great girlfriend, he loves her, and that none of the other stuff matters.  He apologizes to her for being foolish and kisses her in the hallway before her school band concert.

4. The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

Okay, I admit that I am pretty biased about this film because it is one of my all-time favourites. Basically, Bernadette takes no prisoners. She’s lived an interesting and hard life (the movie starts out with her learning that her lover died). It is refreshing to have a film that doesn’t go through Trans 101, is absolutely hilarious without being cruel, and has a trans character that is self-reliant and unafraid.

Hell, in a scene where she and the other protagonists are refused service in a rough and rural town by a very rude and gruff woman, Bernadette delivers the epic line, “Why don’t you go light your tampon and blow your box apart … Because it is the only bang you’re ever going to get.” Then proceeds to defeat the woman in a drinking contest and win the respect of everyone in the bar. In the end, she even finds love, and we can only help to assume that she and Bob proceed to spend the rest of their twilight years together. Plus, this is one of the few ways I can hear ABBA and not want to kick something.

5. Better Than Chocolate (1999)

The film itself was mediocre, but it is in this list just for this scene. Maybe I should write a song like this called “I’m Not a Butch Lesbian.”

And for being one of the very, very few films I have ever seen that shows a trans character as not a heterosexual. The only other one I can think of would be the Danish film En Soap, currently next on my Netflix queue. Judy eventually ends up with the shy lesbian bookseller, Frances. Personally, I wish the film had been mainly about Judy and Frances rather than the central couple and the family drama between them.

• Honorable mention: Normal (2003)

I was about 12 years old when this film came out, and I saw it on HBO. I was pretty floored by it, though didn’t understand all of it, especially anything to do with sex and love. I watched it again during Spring semester to see if it still had the same effect it did on me when I was a pre-teen. It actually affects me more now than it did back then. It is almost too painful to watch now in many parts, but the fact that love and family transcends intolerance and ignorance is really powerful.  Other than Degrassi, this would be what I would show my family in hopes of better understanding, because it is quite straightforward without talking down; these are average people in the American midwest. Not to mention it was extremely well-acted. (Tom Wilkinson and Jessica Lange are pretty much always amazing, duh.)

I’ll disclaim now that these selections are only my personal tastes.  Though it is interesting to note that two of these films are not from the US (okay, Degrassi is technically Canadian, but that doesn’t count); XXY, as previously mentioned, is from Argentina, and Priscilla is Australian.  In my research (aka surfing Netflix), I have noticed that there are actually quite a few foreign films that have trans characters. Spanish director Pedro Amodovar has had numerous trans characters in his films, like in All About My Mother and Bad Education; there’s also the Spanish musical film called 20 Centimeters, Beautiful Boxer from Thailand, Belgium’s Ma Vie En Rose, and the gender-switching Orlando in the UK film adaptation of the book. All these films are of trans women. Unfortunately I have yet to find any foreign films that feature trans men. Even here in the US, in terms of  trans men in non-documentary films, there is pretty much only Boys Don’t Cry and Itty Bitty Titty Committee, both of which I hated.  And don’t even get me started on Max from The L Word.

If you have any suggestions or comments, feel free to email me or post below.  Once again, I’ll admit that I am certainly no authority on films or trans people, but no one technically is, which makes both more wide-ranging and complex.

c. Scott Flaherty, Wikimedia Commons

“I’ll hide behind a smile and understanding eyes
And I’ll tell you things that you already know so you can say:
I really identify with you, so much
And all the time that you’re needing me is just the time
That I’m bleeding you, don’t you get it yet?
I’ll come to you like an affliction then I’ll leave you like an addiction
You’ll never forget me… you wanna know why? “

–“Liar” by the Rollins Band

Those who hurt us the most are almost always the ones who manage to worm themselves most deeply into our lives and struggles.

As someone who is quite new (and young in terms of age) to the queer and trans communities, one of the main pieces of advice I get from friends is that I really need to watch my back.  But when they say that, they aren’t just talking about the homophobes, transphobes, and hometown bigots, those threats are well-known.  No, what they are really trying to warn me about are the people WITHIN the community who prey upon others.

It is unfortunate, but it is a common thing in every community, especially in communities that are maligned by the “mainstream.” I have heard multiple cases of people in the queer community being taken advantage of by other queers.  These have been things such as finances being taken by a partner, being pressured into drugs or unsafe sexual practices, and physical and emotional abuse. I can think of a few people who are getting decked if they ever cross my path for such crimes against my friends. Since our identities and relationships tend not to be recognized by the legal authorities, so there usually is no legal intervention or solution taken.  Most often, the predators get away and continue with their misdeeds.

One of the most complex and well-known cases of this is the controversy surrounding trans photographer Kael T. Block.   He is very notorious in the trans community both for his stunning photographs of trans men and for the multiple accusations of rape against him.  Since no court case or the like has happened yet, the queer/trans community has been using online social media (blogspot, Facebook, and especially tumblr) to discuss the case.  Since opinions are sharply divided, there have been writings defending Kael or separating the art from the artist and those warning others/calling for boycotts of his work.  (I shall refrain from putting in my personal opinion on this matter, because I don’t feel it is my place to comment).

Essentially, the community to which the party(s) belongs to has to decide how to handle these situations.  However, there is a fine line between tribal justice and vigilantism.  How do we make sure to distinguish between the two but still protect others?  Is it our place to ensure justice?  The most common action is to just warn the newcomers (such as myself), but we all know that warnings often go unheard or the danger proves too charming.  Plus, if you’re an inexperienced, insecure, lonely person (such as myself), then there’s a chance that you’ll submit to anyone who will show you attention and a compliment.  To be honest, it is something that I worry about a lot.

Every community has a few bad apples.  There are always wolves that hide in sheep’s clothing, there are always predators.  We expect better and like to think that our members aren’t capable of harming others who share our outsider status…But the sad thing is that you never have to go very far to hear that is not true.  Be careful, friends.

c. Olliwalli, Wikimedia Commons

“Catching butterflies, line drives, watching TV
I had seven good years ’til they noticed they were looking at me
I didn’t like what they see”

–“Free to Go” by Folk Implosion

I have back from school for less than a month, and already I am feeling antsy and stifled. This is one overheated and stuffy closet that I’ve been forced back into, and not just because the air conditioning has been broken for a few years now.

College can be a wonderful thing, the chance to experiment, explore, learn, and be open about ourselves. However, let’s not forget the fact that it doesn’t last year-round. Come May or June, most of us have to pack up and go back to our families and hometowns, and depending on where you’re from and your situation, that’s not exactly a good or exciting thing.

There’s the stuff that tends to happen when you come home regardless of situation. Your mom tells you that you’ve gained some weight; your grandmother says that you’re too skinny and she’s going to feed you; Dad’s raising his eyebrow at your grades and choice of classes; the siblings think you dress funny/badly now. You’re worried about the length of your sleeves because you don’t want your family to know about that tattoo you got over Spring Break. But if you’re queer, it can be more precarious, possibly even hostile.

Of course, there are some families that are perfectly fine and accepting, and some people who live in a place with a thriving community (there isn’t one where I live, but there are two about an hour away). For those not as fortunate, we often have no other choice but to go back into the closet until Fall Semester starts up again.

If you’re gay, it means avoiding all those prying questions about your love life back in college, and late-night phone calls or Skype sessions to your sweetheart while trying to keep your voice down so your family doesn’t overhear.  It also means that you should probably hide that rainbow “Recruiter” t-shirt until you can sneak out for Pride (tell your parents that you’re “just going out to hang with some friends”).  If you’re trans, it is even more intensive than that. Either way it just sucks, often with various levels of suckage at different times.

I must say, it is a real switch from the euphoria where everyone on campus calls you by your chosen name to going home where barely a handful of people even know about that name. It becomes painfully obvious any time I hear my family refer to me as their “daughter” or “older sister” in a statement, like a bad note that causes you to cringe. I have to purposefully remind myself to NOT automatically say, “Hi, I’m Levi” when I am introduced to people, just like I had to train myself over the semester not to refer to myself as my birth name. It can be seriously stressful. After a drama-filled Winter Break involving my mother and her various accusations, I am really not looking forward to three months of the unpredictable.

I’m lucky enough that my wardrobe doesn’t really change between school and home. I’ve always been a jeans and t-shirt/button-down kind of a guy. But it does for many other trans students. Whether it be women’s shirts and underwear hidden away, or hoping your binders and boxer-briefs are not seen in your open suitcase. Pronoun use returns to the ones that feel alien and uncomfortable.

We’re forced back into roles and/or clothes that we don’t identify with. We bite our tongues when comments are made or we’re asked uncomfortable questions. We count the days until we pack up again and the summer heat starts to wane, then we breathe some relief.

She's got a gangsta stare. The Reluctant Bride by Auguste Toulmouche, Wikimedia Commons

“The bird I have in my hands
Went back in the bush again.
You caught me off my guard.
It eats me inside out.
He’s walking out before it’s over.
Trying to remember
Why the kids went home.
One last call and everyone was gone.
I really tried my best.
I really tried my best.
Never saw you leaving.
Don’t know where you went.
Danny’s at the wedding, again”

–“Danny’s At the Wedding” by The Walkmen

At the age of 20, I attended my first wedding, this past weekend. Interesting to be new to the wedding scene at that age, an age where conflicting emotions about love and lust are raging inside of you; becoming an angry young man (or however you personally identify) and a gentle romantic, and switching between the two in a matter of minutes.

The wedding came at a particularly interesting time for me.  I had just finished a semester where I had both suffered a heartbreaking betrayal and abandonment by a lover, as well as an unrequited case of limerence on a school friend.  Basically, a confusing clusterfuck of love, hurt, and romantic and sexual frustration in the middle of trying to adjust to a new environment and new people. Throw in an appearance by someone whom I’ve had a crush on since I was 18 (who pretty much thinks of me as a kid brother), and it becomes superclustermindheartfuck. Another kicker in this is that they are all happily in relationships (cue Adele’s “Someone Like You”). It is enough to make you want to sit in a corner with a bottle and listen to Weezer’s “Pinkerton” on repeat; all while being caught between laughing and crying.

My fellow attendees (all of whom are older than I) were amused and seemed somewhat concerned about my declarations that I was falling out of belief in the possibility of finding reciprocated romantic affection. It was said in such a calm and honest way (unlike many of my peers, who in huffs of frustration, say, “Boys are stupid!” or “I give up on girls!”) that drew a few raised eyebrows. Advice, encouragement, and jokes were provided, all sincere and trying to keep me from retreating into myself too much. I proceeded to try to exorcise my feelings on the dance floor. If I can’t be worn out and sweaty from passionate sex with someone I hold dear, then I figured I might as well try to do it through dancing. Limited success was had, but it was still worth it. (Those of you who have seen me at Homo/Sonic know that I can hold my own on a dance floor.)

I was probably a bit spoiled in the fact that the wedding in question was of two very dear friends of mine and was also super-queer. So my happiness and affection for the couple was genuine (unlike most people, whose first wedding attendance is usually of some relative and all they wanted to do was play with Legos). It also prevented me from wandering around and grumbling about how I was completely surrounded by straight people who would get my pronouns wrong. Plus, it meant I could make all the bawdy gay jokes I wanted, and we all danced to “Poker Face” rather than doing the Electric Slide. Unfortunately, the next wedding I will attend (also this month) is a family wedding, where my identity is not known or recognized, and I will be attempting to resist those who want to drag me into doing the Electric Slide. Maybe at this second wedding I’ll be able to hide in a corner with a stolen bottle of champagne and “Pinkerton”.

In the past I have proclaimed a dislike of weddings and a distrust of marriage in general, but on that day there was nowhere else in the world that I would have preferred to be. I no longer view all weddings and marriages with unyielding suspicion, yet I stand back with a heavy heart and fear about my own romantic future. When will I get a taste of that kind of happiness?  If it ever happens, I am worried that I’ll be way too jaded to accept it.

Be thankful I didn't go with my idea to post a picture of Spiro Agnew

“Built a nation dedicated to liberty,
Justice, and equality
Does it look that way to you? It doesn’t look that way to me
It’s the sickest joke I know”

–“’Merican” by the Descendants

I have lived in Maryland for most of my life; I go to college in this state and am registered to vote here. Admittedly, I have a kind of hate/tolerate/kind-of-like relationship with the state, but it seems like anytime I find something semi-decent or cool here, something arises to remind me why I have spent most of my time here despising it.

There are some nice and even awesome things about Maryland.  We have an interesting history, the liberal powerhouse known as Senator Barbara Mikulski, John Waters and his films (all of them set in the Baltimore area), seafood markets, and some rather good colleges.  Plus, some really cool people came from Maryland, such as Thurgood Marshall, Paul Reed Smith (he stopped by my high school once), Edgar Allan Poe (which Baltimore loves to bank on), and Kweisi Mfume.  Unfortunately, there are many lousy things about Maryland, like the batshit crazy weather, an undeniable Catholic influence, and the people who are STILL mad at Abe Lincoln for not letting Maryland possibly become a Confederate state. I would also like to apologize on behalf of the state for foisting Spiro Agnew, Michael Steele, and Good Charlotte into the national spotlight, but one of the lousiest things about Maryland lately had been the treatment of its GLBTQ citizens, such as myself.

As some of you who live around here know, the Maryland State Assembly pretty much killed the bills on Equal Marriage and Gender Identity Rights. Tactics got really ugly on the Equal Marriage Bill; hate literature was being passed around to delegates and sometimes FROM delegates:

The committee also considered a proposed constitutional amendment to define marriage as only between a man and a woman. It is sponsored by Anne Arundel County Republican Delegate Don Dwyer.

Dwyer has sent out mailings urging constituents of lawmakers who support same sex marriage to call their representative and get them to change their mind.

Collins reports the mailings include samples of school curriculum that Dwyer feels will be taught in schools if same sex marriage is legalized.

One lawmaker who received the mailings told Collins the mailings were “graphic.”

(I must say that, unfortunately, Delegate Dwyer is one of the delegates from my county, which is quite conservative).

With the Transgender Anti-discrimination Bill, it was the fact that it came on the heels of the failed marriage bill, and the fact that it was so flawed that the Maryland trans community was extremely divided on the bill itself.

I wish I could stop and say that it is only the political treatment of LGBTQ Marylanders that makes me hang my head in shame. The violence against Maryland’s LGBTQ community is deplorable and the track record with finding and prosecuting those who murder trans people is bleak, to say the least. In a previous piece, I wrote about the murder of Tyra Trent, a Baltimore trans woman. Even more recently, another crime against a trans person in the Baltimore area has been committed. A trans woman was horrifically beaten by an 18-year-old and a 14-year-old in a Baltimore-area McDonald’s for trying to use the restroom. An employee filmed the event and put it up in the Internet. Both were appalling and sickening events that happened not only in my state, but not all that far away from where I am currently typing this piece, which, as a Maryland trans person, only increases my fears and feelings of discomfort.

Maryland, could you for once try to surprise me in a good way rather than make me feel ashamed?

Saint Sebastian, notoriously homoerotic

“Take my nerves to a bliss
Make them swerve into abyss
Stake my nerves make them hiss
Take ‘em apart to a carcass”

–“Take My Heart” by the Black Lips

This is actually pretty hilarious and slightly embarrassing for me to write, because I know that some of my current and former professors/teachers read this. I suppose I should apologize if those people now know more about my (extremely unimpressive) sex life than they ever wanted to.

I now have a profile on a notorious gay cruising site. I’m not going to say which one or give out any details about it, but it does exist.  This completely surprised the few friends that I have told about it, mainly because it is so out of my nature (which we all know by now is timid, passive, and too wrapped up in my own head).

How on earth did this happen?  To be perfectly honest, it was mostly driven by a romantic involvement that suddenly crashed and burned. In that wake and the romantic disillusion that has followed, I decided to separate my previous thoughts that, for me, physical passion and pleasure would/should come along with romance.   Basically, I have attempted to go from just staring at the water and maybe sticking my toes in, to trying to dive right in the deep end.

I have long been a person who tried my best to suppress my sexual needs and desires, not only because I was unsure of myself but also because I was not in a place where I could actively pursue these needs and desires. (Living at home with one’s parents in suburbia was not exactly a conducive to such things.) College is a rather sexually-charged environment, and it is hard to deal with the stories and plans of hookups and other sexual adventures when all you can do is stare with wide-eyed wonder and jealousy.  The dam of sexual repression has to break at some time.

Part of this newfound willingness was also inspired by two other trans guys mentioning that they had profiles on the same site, and had done well with it. Then again, these two guys were way further along in their transitions than I am and “passed” a hell of a lot more than I do.  Despite knowing this, I decided to try anyway in hopes that maybe there would be someone who could look past those for what I could potentially offer sexually.  To repeat what I said when I texted Zack about making the profile, “I am sure there are some gay/queer guys out there that may realize happens to be in one’s  pants does not affect his  ability to suck cock”.   That’s blunt, but there’s nothing subtle about a site where people’s profile pictures tend to be of erect penises and naked rears.  How very far removed this is from my previous ventures of trying to ask people about their favourite books, bands, and intellectual interests are in order to gauge potential.

Before you ask, I will say that nothing has happened yet.  There were a few near-misses (which is more frustrating than not having a slightest chance at all), but ultimately nothing came into fruition. I’m not going to lie and say that this hasn’t resulted in an increase in self-doubt.  There has been at least one friend of mine who has had to listen to late-night rants about how I “fail in love and now am failing in sex as well”.  Though it turns out that I have had some lovely conversations and made some friends on this site…Who goes to a gay cruising site looking for sex and ends up with friends? Somehow I do, apparently.

I can’t help but feel like this is a kind of baptism by fire, and that how well I do really shows if I am actually accepted by cisgender gay male peers.  Actions do speak louder than words after all (and words are hard to form if you have something in your mouth … Such as a penis).

Transgender Baltimorean Tyra Trent

Last month, 25-year old Tyra Trent was found murdered in a Baltimore basement. She had been reported missing two weeks earlier by her family, and it took two days to identify her body and notify family.

When I read the news via email, I felt stunned and sick.  I don’t know why. I had never met her  and I am not one of those people who gets shocked by death and violence. For some reason, this particular case just struck me. Maybe it was the fact that we’re both in our 20’s, people of colour, transgender, living in the Baltimore area, and trying to get our lives on track. (She was getting her GED after a struggle with drugs, I’m trying to get my undergrad after/amidst struggles with mental health.)

Part of my shock may also have been the timing. When I learned of the news, it was Friday. I had just come out to two professors and one of my classes as trans.  Much to my relief, everyone was really accepting and supportive. Then again, I would not have even considered coming out if the school didn’t have such a generally progressive, “live and let live” atmosphere. I guess hearing about Tyra’s murder reminded me that just outside of the walls of my college, there are still people that hate us enough to want kill us.

It is a really heavy thing to think about: The idea that there are people who, based on one facet of who you are, something you have spent a long time struggling with yourself, want to extinguish your life or cause you injury, like what happened at Cal State Long Beach to a trans student in a restroom.

Then there is also the thought that the murderer might never be caught, and that there are people out there who probably agree with what he or she did — seriously, never read the comments on a news story.  It was about a year and a half ago that the DC Q St. stabbings of two trans women happened in broad daylight. Unsurprisingly, no one has been charged in that case.

Maybe the Tyra Trent case will be different, but the track record with finding and prosecuting those who murder trans people is bleak, to say the least.

Maryland is currently in debate over a gender identity anti-discrimination bill, but  I am not sure that I have high hopes for it considering it is just off the heels of the failed equal marriage bill, which the Maryland conservatives are still riled up about. With this murder, I am not sure that Maryland is willing to accept us. I sincerely hope that I am wrong.

“Look out honey, ’cause I’m using technology
Ain’t got time to make no apology
Soul radiation in the dead of night
Love in the middle of a fire fight”

–“Search and Destroy” by the Stooges

In many ways, the cis gay & lesbian community and the trans community aren’t the best of friends. There are plenty of transphobic gays and lesbians, and the trans community hasn’t always embraced their non-heterosexual members.

I’m trans AND I’m queer. By “queer,” I mean the actual “I like sexual/romantic stuff with other guys who like guys.” There is an annoyingly present population of the trans male community who call themselves “queer,” but in actuality only are attracted to and have sex with women (sorry, chaps, but unless you’re into doing the horizontal tango with a member of the same gender, it really isn’t right to appropriate words like “queer” and “faggot” for yourselves).

Anyway, the point is that my situation is not exceptional. There are many of us who are caught between or identify with both the trans and GLBQ communities.  My fellow TNG writer, Sylvia Renee, has mentioned that she is both trans and not heterosexual. I can name others both close to me and not who are in same boat.  Not only that, but there are also cisgender GLBQ people who are in queer relationships with some of us (not to forget relationships between queer trans people).  Many of these partners are actually more involved in the trans community than I am (to be perfectly honest, because I am rather uninvolved). So not only are we feeling the pull of the divide, but our lovers may be as well.

By even suggesting that you remove the T from the GLB, you are asking some of us to pick between two facets of our identity.  In addition to that, making us have to fight an uphill battle on both sides as we fight for our rights not only as trans people, but also as queers…Separately.  Personally, that makes me feel really fucking invalidated.

Also in regards to the “gender studies students” comment made, just talk to us as human beings (rather than subjects) and as friends. You’ll learn a hell of a lot about us. It is really just as simple as that. I’m not a gender studies student either. I’m an Anthropology and Political Science student who has yet to take (nor even any desire to take) a class about gender theory. We’re not asking for “ideal.” we’re just asking for some attempt at educating yourselves.

You don’t have to be an expert to be an ally.

By Tamás Kádár, taken from Wikimedia Commons

“And I’m leaning on this broken fence between Past and Present tense
And I’m losing all those stupid games that I swore I’d never play
But it almost feels okay”

–“Aside” by the Weakerthans

Well, I am now into my third week since the exodus from my parents’ house onto campus.  I still find myself to be much more of a quiet stranger and observer than an active participant in non-classroom surroundings (though those of you who have met me in person know that’s just generally how I am).  Perhaps it is my passive nature or the fact that I still feel like I don’t really “belong” here, but I have taken a really indirect and hands-off approach to asserting my identification.

It could be interpreted as either cowardly or a shrewd way of handling unknown situations, but there is no “one true way” to the process of outing oneself (especially on a large-scale such as a college campus).  My methodology is essentially to give them my chosen name with any additional information given if/when it is asked for.  I have always been an open book, I just don’t give out the pages until I am comfortable and/or something in particular is requested.

However, the consequence of this approach is that most often others’ assumptions about my gender identity are incorrect.  But I have to admit that it is kind of interesting to see what conclusions people jump to based on the limited information of just my name and my outward physical appearance.  It is like having my own social science study.  What I find really quite fascinating as of late is the fact that it is my fellow students who are quick to judge me (the vast majority of time incorrectly as female), while my professors and other older individuals are the ones who seem to try to hold off on publically expressing any assumptions one way or the other.  They just address me as Levi (even though my official roster documentation lists me as legal name), hold off on pronoun usage, and don’t pry/inquire into that field of my life.

The issue of whether to come out at school and how to is becoming more and more notable, both to people within the community and outside of it.  Since my generation was born into a vast wealth of resources (most notably the internet), we are figuring out and being open about our sexual orientations and gender identities at younger ages than most members of the previous generations.  Ergo, people coming out in college, high school, and middle school is more frequently becoming common place.  Those around us either catch up to this fact or continue on the path of ignorance (either willfully or not).

I am curious to see what lies ahead as I meet more of my fellow students and start getting closer to people.  Will I eventually start advocating for my correct identity when I first meet people?  Am I holding onto the last vestiges of anonymity and closeted privacy?  Are my attempts at control ultimately futile? How have others handled similar situations?

Buck Angel is the rare, non-exploited trans porn star.

In miles of sharp blue water coming in where she lies
The diving man’s coming up for air cause the crowd all love pulling dolly by the hair, by the hair
And she wonders how she ever got here as she goes under again”

–“Girls On Film” by Duran Duran

There comes a point when you stop jerking off and start actually thinking about what you’re watching (as fellow TNG writer Cyrus has pointed out). Or, in the search for said porn to jerk off to, you just kind of wonder about all the stuff you happen across (I nearly typed “come across,” but I realized that you can’t get away with that when writing about porn).

I’m trans and sometimes I like to watch other trans people get down and dirty.  Why?  Because it is an affirming experience that tells me I might not die sexually-isolated and alone because I happen to be trans.  It’s also because, just like cisgender people, transgender people can be goddamn sexy too (what a surprise, right?).  However, there is a rather serious and very apparent problem when it comes to these attempts at visual awesomeness.

The problem is that most “transsexual porn” is pretty fucked in their portrayals of trans people.  This is especially true in the treatment of trans women.  The fact is that most mainstream trans pornography is made for (and most often by) cisgender straight guys.  The women are treated as objects of fetish and forced into offensive labels such as “shemale,” “tranny,” and “chick with a dick.”   Since it is well-known that trans people face a multitude of issues when it comes to steady employment (way to forget about ENDA, Pelosi) and paying for medical treatment, it is always in the back of my mind that many of those women might be only doing those movies for survival money.  That just doesn’t jive well in my mind.

On the flip-side, trans men are pretty much nonexistent in the world of mainstream porn.  The most famous FtM porn star is Buck Angel, but he’s still kind of a niche figure.  And unlike many of the trans women in porn he is completely in control of his own image and how he is presented to the public.

And there are probably some of you currently reading this that are saying to your screens, “But what about the underground queer porn sites?”

Well those are a good start, but still suffer from many of the same issues in addition to a slew of other issues. Once again they are mainly run by cisgender people,  though usually cisgender queer or lesbian-identified women.  Also the porn tends to be either cis girl-on-cis girl or trans guy-on-cis girl…And everyone in it looks like a hipster.  That’s great and all, but that really doesn’t reflect what the majority of my attractions are and certainly doesn’t completely reflect the many kinds of queer people and the seemingly infinite ways that we have sex.

When I said that I like to see trans people have sex, I also meant that I like to see trans people have sex with other trans people.  Because, you know, it isn’t an unknown thing for us to date/fuck others in the community (as I have written about before).  I would really like to see more porn that reflects that. And I have heard the same sentiment echoed by others.  I’m allowed to be a picky bastard about my porn. So is everyone else.  It says a lot I can more easily find crazy, seizure-inducing tentacle porn with furries than it is to find a clip of a trans guy with a trans woman.

We’re partly starting to head in the right direction when it comes to pornographic depictions of transgender people; but when it comes to the mainstream porn world, just like in daily life, we have yet to break out of the role of being fetishized and exploited for who we are.

Unlike Spiderman, I don't get a cool costume to ponder over; Photo by Olaf

“Brace yourself, cos this goes deep

I’ll show you the secrets, the sky and the birds
Actions speak louder than words
Stand by me my apprentice
Be brave, clench fists”

–“Turn the Page” by The Streets

A couple of you already know this, but in about a week and a half, I shall be moving on from community college to a 4-year residential college.   Of course I am giddy as all hell about it, but I am also quite anxious.  Leaving the madness that is my parental home is definitely a fantastic thing, yet there are many unknowns and questions associated with that switch from the proverbial “bird’s nest” to a more independent existence.

One of the first questions that some friends, who know about me being trans, asked, “Are you going to start being full-time once you go over there?”  For those of you that don’t know what that means, “going full-time” is being open and living as your preferred gender identity all/most of the time.  As it stands right now, I have pretty much been living a Peter Parker/Spiderman kind of a life, except for the fact that being transgender is not a cool superpower that came from a mutant spider as far as I know).

As some of you out there probably know, it is extremely tiring leading a double life, but there is an element of security within it.  When closeted, I don’t have to panic about bathrooms, people don’t ask invasive questions, and am generally less worried about being harassed/attacked for being trans or for how well I may “pass”.  But that is just covering up who I am, and I really hate it.  Granted, the new college that I am going to is well-known for being very liberal and queer-friendly, but there is no 100% guarantee that everyone there is cool with that sort of thing.  Currently I am having an issue finding housing on campus.  Not that the housing people have been nasty to me (actually, I have found nothing but support and understanding), it is just that…Well…It was a lot easier to be placed in a dorm when it was thought that I was a cisgender female rather than a trans guy.

There is also the issue of how to approach being out and about.  I am not exactly keen on being known as “the trans kid” on campus, nor am I really that interested in having to introduce myself to every damn person with, “Hi, I’m Levi!  I’m a trans guy, so please use male pronouns”…It is almost like I should have a badge or a t-shirt made up for that (if I did, I might also add onto it “Is single and has Netflix”).

Anyone else deal with the issue of being out and/or transitioning at school?  Feel free to email me at levi@thenewgay.net.  Also, since I will be moving into the area, Baltimore TNG readers are welcome to hit me up.

“So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self-assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions”

–“The New Year” by Death Cab For Cutie

New Year’s Eve, just like Christmas, has gone from a holiday of childhood wonder and joy to something I barely tolerate.  Actually, I am not sure which one I dislike more, but at least Christmas involves getting presents…Though New Year’s Eve does give me the option of not having to be around my relatives at all (which, in this season, is very much a welcome break).

I am not really one for parties, so the celebration aspect means little to me.  The fact that these parties tend to have free food and good company are the main reasons I even show up.  But it could be Arbor Day and if you promised me free food, I’d still make an appearance.  I have to admit that the New Year has always brought this increase in the feeling of loneliness for me, as it does for a lot of people, I suppose.  It is well-known that suicides go up around the winter holidays.

Perhaps I have been in school so long I now divide everything mainly by semesters instead of years.  The sudden change in year always gets me confused for a while…I recently looked back at my notes from a Linguistics class I took last Spring and noticed that quite a few times I wrote the date as 2009 instead of 2010, even as late as March.  Actually, I have a history of this, and it is only the year part that I have trouble with at times. I guess the change of an entire year doesn’t warrant much of a change for me.  (And I guess it doesn’t either for the Toothpaste For Dinner guy: http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/030304/the-chinese-new-year.gif)

It is just a day (and usually a cold day here); everyone goes nuts about it, stores suddenly have weird hours or are closed altogether, and people make promises they aren’t really going to keep.  What are we celebrating anyway?  It isn’t like we are celebrating some historical person, a battle or victory, the independence of a nation, or when our taxes have to be filed.

Is there something that I am missing about the change from December 31^st to January 1^st?

“I don’t care how much money I gotta spend,
Got to get back to my baby again
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home,
‘Cause my baby just a-wrote me a letter”

–“The Letter” by the Box Tops

(R.I.P. Alex Chilton!)

I tend to obsess about a lot of things when considering whether or not I am interesting in pursuing a relationship with someone. For some odd reason, the physical distance between me and the other person rarely plays into those considerations.

Let’s face it: the queer community isn’t that big when talking sheer population.  Then when you throw in queer people who share your interests and passions, have qualities you find attractive, are single/available (and, in my case, willing to date a guy who happens to be trans), and doesn’t annoy the hell out of you, you end up with an even smaller pool.  While this may shrink your possibilities in a major metropolitan area, this may lower your dating prospects to zilch if you live in a more suburban, rural, and/or conservative area.

There is also the fact that I am a full-time college student, so my brain is mostly on school and my ass is mostly in the general area of campus or home.  So unless we’re going to the same school, you aren’t really going to see me Monday-Friday afternoon (and probably not at all during Finals), even if we did live in the same zip code.  Then throw in the fact that I don’t own a car or can drive, and it makes even the next county seem as far away as New York to me.  So I guess my vision is a bit eschewed.

I guess I just don’t think that mutual attraction and caring should be inhibited by distance.  This is the 21^st Century, right?  We have text messages, Skype, Priority Mail, and all that stuff! The world supposedly feels smaller now…At least that’s what the commercials have been telling us for decades now.  There is less stigma on long-distance relationships now than there even was 5 years ago, judging from the mainstream with popular movies such as “Going the Distance” that came out earlier this year.  But, as we all know, these tend to reflect the trends and sentiments of the average population, but are the views on long-distance dating in the GLBTQ world different?

Maybe I just look at the distance as simply an obstacle, to be partially romanticized.  Anyone who knows me realizes soon that despite my quiet, passive demeanor that I am a very determined young man.  Maybe my wanderlust dreams have seeped into my dating life.

Have love, will travel…Right?

Even Luke Skywalker has awkward Facebook friendships

“Collapse
It’s evident to me
Tonight
All the friends are strangers”

—   “All My Friends” by Pavement

***

I created my Facebook account when I was in 11^th grade.  I got it because, at the time, most of my older friends from high school had graduated and spread off to various colleges, and also because my musician friends had been progressively moving from flyers about shows to posting events electronically (which also allowed them to announce spur of the moment performances, but I still miss the insane and creative flyers).  Thus, I succumbed to the social pressure.

Fast forward a few years to college; I still have the original account and use it daily (as most of us do).  But things are different these days, and there are elements of awkward tension.  Why?  Well, basically, the whole damn thing has become a time bomb for being outed.

The people on my Facebook could be divided into three groups: 1) the people (who tend to also be GBLTQ) who have pretty much only known me as Levi and male-identified; 2) my siblings, family friends, and people from primary and secondary school who don’t know that I’m trans; 3) the select few friends known since pre-transition that I have come out to already.  Obviously, groups 1 and 2 do not mesh together, since to one group I am ‘he’ and the other one still thinks that I am ‘she’.  Then add how public your business is on Facebook…Well, let’s just say that there have been quite a few close calls and maybe a few questions in people’s minds.

It is a reminder of how closeted I still am, and it is tiring having to hide myself and maintain an identity façade for some people.  One has to be careful about what you say, what links you post, what is in your profile, and what others put in your statuses and wall.  And, we all have to admit, there are people that we have friended who we realize would not be supportive if we were to come out or start expressing more of our non-heteronormative lives on a social media profile. There could be that cousin that you haven’t seen in 6 years, but you notice posts a lot of things about ‘Stopping the Homosexual Agenda”.  There may the suitemate from your freshman year that puts up pictures of her protesting in front of Planned Parenthoods and keeps sending out invites for you to join her.   Or it could be as a simple as an old high school friend who still hasn’t grown out of the high school mentality…And still has the unapologetic habit of saying “no homo” and “that’s gay”.

I am a different person than I was at the time I added many of people in my friends list.  People change over the years, and what kind of people we connect with evolve.  Back before all these social networks, we would simply just drift away from the people we no longer felt close to…It was a mostly a slow and gentle process, caused by things like lack of regular communication or by physically moving away from each other.  However, with things like Facebook, getting rid of those old connections is no longer so non-direct.  It becomes “unfriending”, which just sounds so harsh…And the other person instantly knows what happened when they see that you’re no longer on their Friends List or in their News Feed.  Drama can ensue, as this can be perceived as a harsh action.  But as I move away from the past and its hometown connections and look more towards my future, I realize that there needs to be some cleaning of the Facebook house…And it may not be pretty.

By Øyvind Johnsen, taken from Wikimedia Commons

“Go ahead and say it, call me a fuckin’ wimp
Just cuz I’ve got a different kind of life that I wanna live
You can criticize my ideals and my priorities
But ultimately I don’t give a flying fuck what you think of me”

–“I Quit” by the Descendents

A friend asked me to write about this topic, which just goes to prove that I will actually discuss something in particular if you ask or suggest it!

It is no real secret that I have a profile on a popular dating site.  It is also happens that I am open about being trans on that profile. Granted, this openness probably causes most people (I find this especially true of gay guys, and I don’t even try with straight girls) to automatically dismiss me as a guy they would not even want to just talk to, regardless of similar interests. So I guess that I pay quite a bit for my upfront honesty. Though if I didn’t mention my transition status, people would think that I’m underage due to my appearance. Trust me, it has happened.

It could probably be safely said that most, if not all, trans people (whether gay, lesbian, straight, et. al.) are very much aware of the knowledge that we can be subject to frequent rejection as a romantic/sexual partner just because of that one aspect of ourselves.

“Would that cute girl down by the end of the bar still be smiling and winking at me when I come out to her?”

“I totally wrote a message to this cute guy who also likes contemplating sexual politics, Russian literature, and pet lizards…But then he looked at my profile and wrote that he ‘would never date a tranny’”.

These are just tame insults when you think about the fact that there is the very real danger of being harassed, beaten, or even killed because of being transgender.

And there are those who, when they approach us with some sort of dating/sexual interest, they treat us only as a fetish, an experiment, or some dirty little secret to be ashamed of.  There are also those who are just so damn ignorant and disrespectful that it isn’t worth it (Note: asking crude questions about a trans person’s genitalia and/or medical history firmly puts you in this category, as does refusing to respect identity and pronouns; also, how many times must it be told to the gay and lesbian communities that liking or sleeping with a trans person of the same gender doesn’t make you straight?!).  The dating world at large comes off as very unwelcoming of trans people, and makes me want to give up entirely…Almost.

Looking at my inbox, I have noticed that the majority of the people who have either replied back or messaged me first (either out of romantic or friendship interest) have been other trans people.  Mainly these have been from other queer/gay trans men, but in the past few months I have also been a part of some lovely flirtatious banter with a few gorgeous trans women who happen to like neurotic, nerdy writers.

Some people might insist that this is merely “settling”, but I wholly disagree; some trans people date other trans people out of a mutual understanding and unconditional respect of their bodies and identity, which is a reward to find in any person.  It is great not to have to go through Trans 101, and have someone who is more likely to truly understand dysphoria and transition frustrations, in addition to maybe having the same interests and being attractive (because trans people, just like cisgender people, are capable of having every possibly of careers, levels of education, physical traits, loves, views, etc…Because we really are regular people).  Not to say that there are not trans people who are total assholes (*cough*conservative Republican Donna Milo*cough*) or that two individuals who happen to be trans will even like or get along with each other, it isn’t like any other group who shares one uncontrollable thing (like race or sexual orientation) in common automatically get along with each other.  I can honestly say that I do not instantly like everyone who shares things like that with me…But I am well-known to be rather misanthropic.

If we usually tend not to be appreciated by other people, why not go looking inward more often?  You snooze, you loose…And it is real easy to get awfully tired of waiting for basic acceptance and respect while looking for someone watch old movies and hold hands with.

Photo courtesy of Pete Barr-Watson on WikiMedia Commons

“I only get sleepless nights

Alone here in my half-empty bed

For you things seem to turn out right

I wish they’d only happen to me instead”

–”What Do I Get?” by the Buzzcocks

Dear readers, I have a painful confession to make.  What could it be, you ask?  Some hideous deed done? Unwholesome thoughts? I’m afraid that it isn’t nearly as titillating as those.  I am admitting that it has been over a year since I have kissed or been kissed by anyone.  (I am not sexually active either, but I am much more at ease with that fact, which is something to be discussed at a later date).

It isn’t for a lack of desire or trying that this is, mind you.  This is a case more so of involuntary celibacy than any sort of instituted ban of physical contact with another person. Why? Could it be my presence? I am the first to say that I have neither a traditionally masculine attractiveness of Shemar Moore, for example (or even androgynous good-looks along the lines of, say, Patrick Wolf); nor do I possess the charm of Stephen Fry or even just a Hugh Grant-esque ability to make awkwardness seem dashing.  But even with the self-deprecation and lack of self-confidence, I know that I am better off than the Elephant Man or the unholy creation that is Carrot Top.  I’ve also been told that I’m a nice fellow, the few people I have snogged in the past have had nothing negative to say about my abilities, and I shower every day. Okay, yes, I was not born with the “factory-standard” male body…But should that really be an absolute dealbreaker for something like kissing (lips and mouths tend to be the same, no matter the body)?  So, I am curious as to why it seems that I have been ruled out of the pool of potential dates/make out partners.

What am I getting at?  I am not absolutely sure, but I think that I am trying to figure out whether it is my personal feelings about myself that dictate my lack of a sex life (even though I am not purposefully trying to be celibate), or if it is my lack of a sex life that is helping to dictate some of the feelings that I have about myself.  Everyone wants to feel desired, especially people who are not considered “traditionally attractive” or are “unusual” for whatever reason (whether it be the fact that they are trans, very short, have apparent scars, are not able-bodied, or just any number of things).  But too often we are instantly ruled out, kept at a distance, or treated with kid-gloves as non-sexual beings.

Hopefully this kissing dry spell will end soon, because this is just getting really ridiculous.

“Old friends

memory brushes the same years

silently sharing the same fears”

–”Old Friends” by Simon and Garfunkel