Last month I did a Five Questions With… interview with Ari Kane where we talked about the new anthology she edited (with Vern Bullough) called Crossing Sexual Boundaries: Transgender Journeys, Uncharted Paths. I contributed an essay to it and thought I’d give people a preview of my essay.
A relationship is always a search for balance. All couples try to find the right amounts of disparate elements: commitment and freedom; togetherness and independence; responsibility and indulgence; solitude and sociability; excitement and security; stability and growth. In a transgendered relationship, all of those types of balance are needed, but the strains an emerging TG identity can put on a couple can cause greater stress for both partners. Will my femininity decrease as his increases? Does his need to implement change threaten our stability? Will his urge to be free of his male role upset my sense of our roles within the relationship? Can keeping such a big part of himself private negatively effect our social life? If I can’t connect with, or am not also in love with his feminine self, will my independence from that part of him lead to estrangement? All of these questions – and many others like them – are ones we have had to answer for ourselves. Some balances occur naturally and others are always a little off. I found, however, that what kind of balance – if any – occurs, it is usually a result of long, honest conversation, difficult stare-at-your-feet-while-you-spit-it-out admissions. Some of the things we have to say to each other bring us back to the tension that most people feel at the beginning of a relationship. He worries that his self-expression will finally cause me to say “Enough.†I worry that the changes he needs to make to his body and/or personality will change him too drastically from the man I fell in love with and find attractive. For most people, there is a sigh of relief when someone gets to know you very well, and isn’t going to leave when you tell that dumb joke or admit some lifelong weird habit. My brother is fond of saying “The honeymoon’s over when you fart in bed,†but for most, the end of the honeymoon period leads to one of stability and the mundane that is appreciated by both partners. We never seem to arrive there, as his transgenderedness makes that kind of easy acceptance of the other an impossibility. He doesn’t know who he is yet, and neither do I. We have first dates all the time. First dates are fun when you don’t have anything to lose, but when you’re on a first date after five years of commitment, shared experiences, love and love-making, it’s like coming home every day hoping your house hasn’t burnt down.
I was amazed to find, when I re-read this essay – which I wrote at least two years ago – how much of a nutshell version of the new book it is.
Rhea has posted a lovely review of the essay on the message boards, with further thoughts and comments by others who have read it (& I added a couple of clarifications as well).