Category: relationships

I seem to be cranky on Mondays.
I’ll admit upfront that Betty and I were interviewed for the spot on Oprah that Jennifer Finney Boylan and her wife got. Aside from my obvious question of weren’t two episodes of Oprah enough? – since there are so many of us who have written good books about trans issues, and get little to no mainstream publicity – I have a few thoughts on their appearance.
[/raise feminist hackles] I wonder first why it is that when “the media” want to know about transness they go to a transperson who’s written a book, but when they want to know about a partner’s experience, they go to the wife of the transperson who’s written a book, instead of to a partner who’s written a book herself. That is, if you’re going to give any writer credit for thinking about stuff in order to write a book, shouldn’t you give the same credit all around? For me, this was a not-so-subtle reminder that women are still more valued for who they’re married to than for what they’ve accomplished on their own. [/lower feminist hackles]
Of course I know that ultimately JFB and her wife were chosen because Jenny was on the show previously, and everyone wanted to know what this wife who initially refused to speak had to say. Even me.
I understand and thorougly appreciate her need to wait for a time when she wasn’t going to lose her shit on television. She was calm, she smiled, she came off as a sane woman who’s made the best of a bad situation. No Springer-esque accusations and tears, no melodrama, no rage through gritted teeth.
I’m happy for Jenny and Deirdre, that they’ve found whatever kind of peace they have. I know, without asking anyone, that Deirdre still has moments of anger and sadness so deep she probably doesn’t like to admit them even to herself. I know wives who have been with someone who transitioned who still admit to bad days. We saw a glimpse of Deirdre’s raw emotion when Jenny mentioned her expensive new vagina and her sexual interest in men. Just a glimpse, but enough for me to know there’s still something there, vitriol or bitterness or rage.
I get that. Betty and I have had very “successful” interviews turn into day-long arguments after the fact. In one case, we looked at our wedding album in order to provide one show with b-roll and ended up re-evaluating where we’d been, where we were, and where we were headed.
But despite that momentary glimpse into Deirdre’s “dark side,” I’ve already seen posts in the online support community from transpeople enquiring as to how Deirdre “got there.” She was angry, she mourned. We know the stages of grief and we know trans-partners go through them. At the end of the day, it’s what we can and what we cannot accept that determines the outcome of the relationship.
What Deirdre can accept – a celibate marriage – is something I could not. For others, it might be the loss of public heterosexuality. Still others, stubble or short hair. Every partner is different. For transpeople, there are the Standards of Care, which guide and instruct (and to some, gatekeep). There is no SOC for partners, no guidebook, no way of knowing what straw will break a camel’s back. All you can do is talk to her, ask her, keep talking, keep arguing, and understand that where she is in her own process might color her response.
Deirdre’s acceptance – placid now – is based on her giving up sexual intimacy, the love of a man, and the idea of having a husband. She has had to accept that her children will have to explain why they have two mothers – neither of whom is a lesbian. Sometimes women can make outrageously practical decisions. A woman’s generation, her upbringing, her maternal commitment, her sexuality, her unwillingness to be divorced, or single, or to do the dating scene again: all of these might contribute to what decision she makes.
But I don’t think a woman’s ability to make the best decisions she can – and to accept that what she wanted, and what she thought she had, is not what she’s going to get – should be a revelation to anyone. That there is no good answer when it comes to a married transperson’s dilemma shouldn’t shock anyone, either.
And while I think it’s wonderful that America has finally gotten to see one transwoman who’s not a huge mess screaming on Jerry Springer, I also wonder if the swing of the pendulum won’t whitewash trans experience. Normal, after all, also presented a picture of a wife who stayed – despite tears and protest – and who shared a bed with her partner. But counsellors who work with couples and partners tell me that’s rarely the case. Instead, partners are often fuelled by the kind of rage that births vengeful divorces and vicious custody battles. Sometimes the recently-transitioned woman starts spitting misogynist sentiments and unintentionally pointing out the obvious chasm between wives raised women and the women who used to be husbands.
As much as I once criticized the free-for-all bitch sessions of CDSO, I worry now about the impact of the self-sacrificing wife as a standard-bearer for other partners: put up or shut up isn’t a choice. Partners need a safe space for their anger and bitterness, to heal the sense of betrayal, to own their sadness.
I wonder if we, as a community, are so committed to getting positive representations of transfolk into the world’s eye that we might end up forgetting that the positive image is for them (those who know nothing of transness, who might react with fear, mockery, or violence) but that an accurate image is more useful and healing for those of us who are living it. I wonder who will provide safe spaces for partners’ uglier emotions, if conference organizers will prioritize our needs, or if the individual transpeople who are in charge would rather ignore that sound of the other shoe dropping.
It’s not just about every individual transperson paying attention to what’s going on with their own partner. It’s about all of us putting pressure on conferences to make sure there are workshops for partners – and not just the cheerleader ones, either – and finding other spaces where it’s okay to acknowledge that the survival of most MTF relationships depends greatly on the way women are socialized. Jude presented a scenario on the MHB message boards: what would happen if a heterosexual wife of a heterosexual man came out as an FTM? Would he stay? We know he wouldn’t. Why not? Why do we expect the wife to stay in the face of transness and not the husband?

Why – you might ask? Is perceived lesbianism less culturally problematic than perceived homosexuality in men? Is estrogen less feminizing in the case of MTF’s than testosterone is masculinizing for FTM’s? Are women just more accepting? Do women tend to value family and stability a bit more? (yes, yes, yes, and yes, in my opinion)
All of these surely play into it – but in my eyes, the biggest reason is PRIVILEGE. Women are much less likely to have the life skills, confidence, earning power, and education to support themselves (and their kids, as Steve has said). So they hang onto the ship.

Women make their own decisions. As much as transwomen can’t go back and be socialized as the women they were meant to be, those of us raised female can’t undo that we were. And until we have a conversation about why women are raised the way they are, and why men aren’t raised the same way, all of those transwomen who are hoping to make it through transition with a happy partner haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell.