Transvestites

In the middle of a recent thread about the term transvestite, Betty and I were both challenged as to our use of it. A lot of people are offended by the word and its connotations of mental illness and perversity. As I mention in the glossary entry in my book, however, Betty and I never saw it that way, for several reasons: 1) because without transvestite you couldn’t have transsexuals or transgenders – because it was the first of the three coined, and the others were coined from it; 2) because the rest of the world uses the term; 3) because the man who coined it had no such judgments of perversity or mental illness in mind when he coined it – all that came later, and 4) for Betty there was always a sexual aspect to crossdressing, and taking that out was the equivalent of white-washing the sexual aspect.
Someone even mentioned that they think first of Glen or Glenda when they hear the word “transvestite” – and I wondered, are we ashamed of Ed Wood?
Transvestites scratch the itch of gender dysphoria through crossdressing, and that’s all. Transvestites are not in the DSM (only fetishistic transvestites are, and I’ve yet to meet anyone who fits that description). As Donna, one of our MHB board faithful clarified, “…the word “transvestite” was coined by Magnus Hirschfeld circa 1910, was used as a broad, entirely non-judgmental term that would encompass what today would really be considered the entire tg spectrum, and was *not* invented by the psychiatric profession to pathologize or perversify people.” It just wasn’t Hirschfield’s style.
So in a sense, the word transvestite is a link to the whole of the T community’s history. That it’s become a word with negative connotations is due to the lack of education, the silence surrounding the word, our own willingness to disown people like Ed Wood and maybe even Eddie Izzard for not being exactly as we’d like them to be. But if there’s anything the queer community has taught me, it’s that discovering your history as a community is vital and important work. Do gays disown Rock Hudson because he was closeted or because he died of AIDS? Joe Orton because his lover killed him, or because he was famous for having anonymous sex in bathrooms? Of course they don’t. Because when you’re out there, trying to show people you exist – and that you always have existed – you need to find the figures from history that provide proof.
The Chevalier D’Eon, Ed Wood, Virginia Prince, Charlotte von Mahlsdorf: none of them are perfect examples. I’ve been asked a few times how it is I can like Virginia Prince for some things and excoriate her for others, and the answer is easy: she’s human. But what she did for herself, for all trans people everywhere, is more than mind-blowing. Did Charlotte von Mahlsdorf inform for the Communist Party? Only she knows, and she’s taken that secret to the grave. Ed Wood looked on the 60s, as an old man, with envy in his heart, for a decade where sexuality might be freer, gender a little more blurred. He made some of the best bad movies ever. But all of them, in their own way, made transvestites a little more visible; they gave people the idea of it, at least.
I understand that older crossdressers cringe when they hear it; they found that word in adult bookstores, in pulp erotica, and on the covers of sensationalist magazines. Betty found the word in the dictionary at a library growing up, and thought, ‘I guess that makes me a freak, but I know I’m not the only one now.’ Tri-Ess introduced “crossdresser” instead, to get rid of the negative connotations. The only problem is, I don’t see how the use of ‘crossdresser’ over transvestite really changes people’s minds; I can’t imagine any word that would describe a man dressing as a woman that wouldn’t be offensive to someone – especially to people who don’t like any kind of boundary-crossing, much less crossing the boundaries of sex or gender.
I’ve been in crowds shouting we’re here / we’re queer/ get used to it and I know what it does. It takes a word that was used to hurt – a word more full of negative connotations even than transvestite – and turns it around.
Now it’s in the title of a popular TV show. Believe me, no one would have imagined that even ten years ago, much less 20 or 50 years ago. But it happened. And it didn’t happen because queer people made themselves less queer. It happened because queer people made themselves visible, and got angry, and got organized, and demanded that even perverts are people, too.
Because today, in America, a show for kids gets taken off the air because a rabbit went to visit a little girl in Vermont whose parents happen to be lesbians. The show was funded in order to provide diversity education, if you can believe that, but as we well know, lesbians are still a little too diverse for some people. They’ve got their civil unions; they’ve changed the language to make themselves more palatable, and you know what? They still can’t be shown on a children’s television show about diversity.
Either people are going to respect you for who and what you are or they won’t. Cleansing ourselves of negative connotations is not as simple as word choice. If only it were that easy! But Tri-Ess started using “crossdresser” instead of transvestite a few decades ago, and I don’t see that it’s opened the doors of mainstream acceptance. Instead I saw Sam Walls go down in flames when he ran for office in Texas once it was shown he was a crossdresser. No one even called him a transvestite, mind you: all they needed were pictures of him en femme. A picture, as they say, is worth a thousand words.
And once they have that picture, it doesn’t matter what thousand words you use to try to explain it. Not saying the “L” word didn’t save Buster from getting bumped. Calling Sam Walls a “crossdresser” didn’t make him more palatable to voters (neither did explaining that he wasn’t a homosexual). Had he stood up and said “Yes, I’m a transvestite” could that have harmed him any more?

Thanks, Josey

Betty & I filmed a short clip for a Canadian television show called Richler Ink which showed on Book Television, which is an entire channel dedicated to books & authors (so you know it’s not American). They themed their shows “Naughty Librarian Month” for January and so focused on sexual topics. (Whether or not we all think crossdressing is a sexual topic is beside the point, since 1) the point is outreach and education, as long as it’s done respectfully, and 2) the rest of the world still thinks it is, and they’re not going to understand otherwise until they hear about and maybe read a book like mine).
I hadn’t seen the show ever before, but it was explained to me that there would be in-studio guests, and Betty & I would be a segment. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the two books used as segments (My Husband Betty and another on women’s orgasm called She Comes First) would be commented on by the in-studio guest. It was as if Daniel Richler (the host) and the in-studio guest – who was in our case Josey Vogels – were watching the video clip of us with the audience, and when it finished, they chatted about it.
I was pretty upset when Daniel Richler couldn’t seem to keep a smirk off his face, and started muttering things about “kinky” & the like. But Josey Vogels, I’m happy to say, is not only well-informed but a pro. She’s apparently talked to straight, nervous, vanilla guys about sex before! And she talked a little bit about the transgender movement, and otherwise made sure Daniel Richler didn’t get to go anywhere with his nudge, nudge, wink, wink crap.
I’ve already thanked Josey Vogels, of course, for being a first-class act, and for not allowing the show to sink into Springer-esque insinuations, and she’ll hopefully be writing one of her columns about My Husband Betty as a result of our correspondence.
And though I certainly don’t mind spending time praising Josey Vogels (who was on promoting her current book Bedside Manners), that’s not why I sat down to write this: I write this because I was suddenly reminded that the world still thinks crossdressers are funny, or kinky, or both. In more than a year of going to trans-conferences and the like, you start to believe that everyone is tuned into the finer debates about passing, or other standard fare that’s dicussed within the trans community, until you realize – maybe because of a nervous talk show host or because of something someone shouts from the street – that we’ve got a long way to go.
Going that long way is going to take working with the media where and when we can. Betty and I have had to turn down other television shows on advice from friends here in NYC who have been burned themselves or seen firsthand how disrespectful most of the talk shows are of their guests: from “surprise guests” to telling people the shows are themed other than they are, they actually trick people into coming on. Of course all the invitations seem respectful; none of them write to ask me if I’d be willing to portray a wife who’s been victimized by her crazy tranny husband.
And while I don’t even have cable TV because of the schlock that is American television, I’m well aware that most of America is informed via TV – depressing but true. Doing innumerable events like Trans-Week at Yale or speaking to a class at UVM are wonderful: talking to people who are intelligent and willing to learn and listen means a new generation aren’t going to become adults with the same uninformed notions in their heads as their parents.
The question is: what about the rest? How do we get to the rest of the people out there?
Doing publicity with a mainstream book helps. Knowing my book is in libraries where it can be found (not only by T-people and their partners but by any average, interested, curious reader) is something. People ask me all the time why we haven’t been on Oprah. After I ask them if they know anyone who works on the show who might get us on (no takers yet), I ask: why aren’t there more shows like Oprah?
Maybe those of us in the GLBT community can start pressuring networks not necessarily for more shows about us – but just for more intelligent shows, in general. We need to write to our local and cable stations and tell them we’re tired of schlock. The Jerry Springer-type shows wouldn’t hurt half so much if we had something to offset it. I was pretty amazed to find that when we did PBS’ In the Life, none of my friends in the red states could see it. Why? Their local PBS affiliate simply didn’t carry it.
But I’m sure that had nothing to do with why eleven states voted for banning gay marriage, or why we’re teaching Creationism in schools as if it’s science, or why no one seemed to notice that we’ve hung the whole of the guilt for the Abu Ghraib horror on guys who were following orders.
I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with it. It doesn’t, does it?

MHB on Canadian TV Tonight

An interview with MY HUSBAND BETTY author Helen Boyd (Thunder’s Mouth)
starts airing tonight on Richler Ink/Book Television Wednesday, January
19th @ 10:00pm ET / 8:00pm MT Saturday, January 22nd @ 7:00pm ET /
5:00pm MT Sunday, January 23rd @ 10:00pm ET / 8:00pm MT

Upcoming Events

Betty and I will be doing a few interesting events this coming February and March that I’d love for people to join us at, and to say hi if they’re attending.
February 18th – 20th we’ll be in Phoenix, AZ, at the Glitz Ball. I’m doing one workshop, participating in another, and will also be the Banquet Speaker.
On Tuesday, February 22nd, I’ll be moderating a forum of crossdressers for Yale’s Trans-Week. It’ll be called “Part-Time Ladies.” The Yale Daily News did a nice piece about my presentation last year.
On the weekend following Trans-Week, February 25th – 27th, I’ll be presenting a workshop on trans-sexuality at the all-kink inclusive Dark Odyssey. Betty & I had a great time at this event last fall, and are excited about going again. This year, with the privacy afforded by hotel rooms, I’m hoping to see a lot more trans-couples attending. The remarkable Kate Bornstein will also be attending, and it will be wonderful to see her again.
The very next weekend, we’ll be going up to Burlington and the University of Vermont. David Houston, an anthropology professor, has asked me to speak to his class; they’re reading My Husband Betty as part of their “kinship and identity” coursework.
While I’m in Burlington, I’ll also be participating in the Translating Identity Conference on March 5th. I’ll be doing a workshop on trans sexuality, as well as teaming up with FTM partner Jill Barkley for a caucus on partners’ rights. I’m very much looking forward to meeting Leslie Feinberg, whose Stone Butch Blues is a seminal work (and which I recently recommended as part of my reading suggestions for Book Television in Canada).

MHB on SexTV

sex tv shootWith a little help from our friends (Minerva, Christine, Zoe & Kat) we filmed a segment with SexTV, a Toronto-based show.
It’s been seen in Toronto, and is expanding to Canada and internationally, but for now, you can see it on the web!

Helen & Betty on SexTV

Hi everybody! I wanted to tell you that the story “My Husband Betty: Love, Sex, and Life with a Crossdresser” will be airing on Citytv’s Sextv on July 10th and July 11th (at 11:30 p.m.) in Toronto and throughout the province of Ontario.
Sex TV
From there it will air nationally (in most major cities across Canada) and then it will be sent out to international markets (via the Trio channel in the US). I’ll get more information as I receive it.
We’re joined by two other couples, friends of ours: Minerva & Christine, Zoe & Kat.

Third Gender (Muxe) in Mexico

http://www.oaxacatimes.com/html/third.html#
The Third Gender
By JULIE PECHEUR
Photo by Julie Pecheur
In the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca, some children are born neither boys nor girls.They are muxe.
Under the still fiery rays of the late afternoon sun, two dozen ox-carts decorated with flowers, palms, and multicolored banners parade down the center of Juchit�n. The convite, the traditional procession announcing a special mass, brings together the whole neighborhood. In one cart, sit erect dignified old men
in white shirts and straw hats; in another, motionless boys in blue shiny costumes with their palms joined in prayer; and in a third one, little made-up girls in regional embroidered dresses throw plastic cups and plates as gifts to the enthusiastic crowd.
As the procession moves forward, standing on the upper part of another cart, two children energetically ward off the branches of the surrounding trees to protect the cart�s adornments. They are about 12 years old, with narrow bodies and loose hair down to their round naked shoulders. One wears a pair of blue jeans and a short white top that reveals a flat belly and no waist. They both look like boys, but they could be mistaken for girls. Here in Juchit�n, on the pacific
coast of the Tehuantepec Isthmus, Mexico�s narrowest land near Guatemala, they are neither girls nor boys. They are muxe (pronounced Mooshey).
In striking opposition to Mexico�s dominant mestizo culture, which is racially mixed and where machismo prevails, the population of Juchit�n is predominantly
Zapotec and does not condemn or reject effeminate male homosexuals. On the contrary. Here muxe (the word comes from the Zapotec adaptation of the Spanish word for woman, mujer) are generally regarded as part and parcel of society, a third element or gender, combining the assets of both the female and male, and sometimes equipped with special intellectual and artistic gifts.
No one knows how many muxe live in this city of 80,000. Around the shaded plaza at the center of town near the market, one often spots them: slightly
effeminate older men, young transvestites (vestidas), and men dressed in shirt and trousers but wearing make-up (pintadas). The majority of the muxe live in
the two popular neighborhoods where most fishermen and peasants reside. Those in the upper classes however, still tend to stay en closet, in the closet.
�In Juchit�n, nearly all families have a great-uncle, a son, or a bother who is a muxe,� says Adolfina Pineda Esteva, a 47 year-old primary school teacher
whose younger brother, now known as Am�rica, is a muxe. �Not all parents accept them, but they are not rejected,� she explains while her husband Andr�s nods in agreement. �They have their space in the society. They teach dance, sew, head beauty salons, make adornments� Muxe are very active and creative.�
�Here one is born a muxe. One does not become one,� says Ulises Toledo Santiago, a thirty-year-old muxe, echoing the general opinion. Ulises, who dresses as a man but whose face expressions and voice are somewhat
effeminate, has a license in law and works for the city family planning agency. In an article published in 1995, anthropologist Beverly Chi�as confirms that: �The idea of choosing gender or of sexual orientation�the two of which are not distinguished by the Isthmus Zapotecs�is as ludicrous as suggesting that one can choose one�s skin color.�
Much to the annoyance of the 16th century Spanish conquerors, male homosexuality was widespread and tolerated in many North American indigenous societies, such as the Isthmus Zapotecs and the Yucatan Mayas. The Spaniards highly valued �manliness� and �assertive� behavior and placed a stigma on
�submissive� attitudes. Their chronicles never failed to mention the Indians� �corrupt� behavior, which they labeled as �sodomy� after the biblical town of Sodom, destroyed by God because of the sinful mores of its inhabitants. While systematically destroying all statues and frescoes representing male-male sexual
encounters, the Spaniards found in the natives� different approach to sexuality yet another theological justification to annihilate their culture and convert them to Catholicism.
The people of the Isthmus however have always fiercely defended their identity against conquering powers, whether Aztec, Spanish, or later French. Nowadays in
the region, contrary to the national mestizo pattern where men prevail in every strata of the society, women have more outlets for social participation and
enjoy the resulting powers. Typically, Juchitecan men work the fields and go fishing, participate in politics, and shape intellectual and artistic life. Women, on the other hand, do the housework, but also organize the fiestas and take part in various important commercial activities. In Juchit�n for instance, they control the vital daily market, reigning over piles of mangos and dried fish, their full-size bodies wrapped in long black skirts and huipiles, the short dark traditional blouses embroidered with large bright flowers.
Juchitecan women thus enjoy unusual financial autonomy and prestige, which has led many observers, chiefly foreigners, to mistakenly define Juchit�n as a
matriarchal society, a designation which overlooks the male equally crucial, and sometimes domineering, roles. Nevertheless, women and female activities are
not considered secondary, which may partly explain why muxe, who assume effeminate manners and participate in both female and male economic activities, are usually not discriminated against.
When a son prefers dolls to pistols, female cousins to male ones, and dresses to trousers, many mothers rejoice, even if the majority of fathers merely resign
themselves. For women, raising a muxe implies that strong arms will take care of their house while they go out to work and that someone will look after them
as they grow older. (Men have a tendency to prefer younger women and leave the household, even in Juchit�n.) �Parents with a muxe know that he will
always take care of them because he will never get married and leave the house,� says Ulises, who lives with his mother. �Our society is very tolerant because the muxe work hard and support their families.�
Traditionally, muxe are expected to cook, clean, look after the children, take care of the elders, and bring home an additional income. In recent years, muxe, like women, have started to gain access to higher education and careers such as lawyers and doctors.
Moreover, they play a key role in preparing the countless fiestas, essential to the identity of the community. This is not a light task: Juchit�n celebrates at least 20 in-town velas, the round of parties in honor of patron saints or particular events. During virtually the entire month of May, for instance, the streets are filled with parades, music, and flowers. Then, there are 20 or so obligatory national holidays, about 30 unmissable velas in neighborhood communities, plus the frequent weddings, birthdays, graduations. For all these celebrations, muxe design, embroider and sew traditional female outfits, make garlands and paper chains, fix hairstyles and make-up, and set family and church altars.
Less visible however, is the sexual role the muxe play in the Juchitecan society. Although classical heterosexual rigid classifications hardly hold when it comes to homosexual preferences, it is generally true that muxe don�t have sexual relations with other muxe. They see themselves as women and want men. And the men they sleep with, called mayate, are not considered homosexuals because they play the �active� part. �Because a woman�s virginity before marriage is still very important in our society, many young boys are initiated by the muxe,� says Yudith L�pez Saynes, the director of Gunaxhii Guendanabani, an association dedicated to AIDS prevention. �It is widely accepted, but with AIDS now, people are more cautious.� Andr�s L�pez, a thirty-year old pintada nurse who heads a medical service, explains laughing, �You go in the street and the boys play tough with their friends, but then they flirt with you.� His friend Felina
Santiago Vadivieso, a 36-year-old fake blond muxe who heads a beauty salon, confirms that younger boys keep on asking her advice on how to please their
girlfriends. She prefers older men however, although she can�t kiss them or hold their hands in the street. �A lot of Juchitecan men marry women from other towns like Puebla. They are very conservative and more homophobic,� she explains, before adding in a laugh: �But their sons get caught in the local movement, and their husbands never leave it!�
For almost thirty years, muxe have had their own velas in Juchit�n. Ulises for instance, organizes his club�s December 28th vela, baile con migo, or Dance With Me. The first muxe vela, the vela de las aut�nticas intrepidas buscadoras del peligro, or the vela of the Authentic Intrepids in Search of Danger, took place in
1976. The organizer, Oscar Cazorla Pineda, a fifty-four-year old muxe, is the owner of a famous dance hall in the center of Juchit�n and the leader of the Intrepidas club. With large features and figure but feminine movements, he is also a successful and respected businessmuxe, who sells the traditional and
ubiquitous gold jewelry, which he himself puts on to party.
Each year in November, after a special catholic mass held in its honor, the Intrepids� vela gathers all the city�s muxe along with fifteen hundred men,
women�grandparents and young adults�and children. The blast, which now gets national attention, requires a full year of preparation and costs around $10,000
dollars. Oscar and the Intrepidas cover some of the expenses, but most are now paid by others, including the town�s elected officials. In fact, the Intrepidas are partisans of the PRI, the political party in power in Juchit�n, and they regularly participate in political meetings and demonstrations. Conversely, during the vela, it is the city officeholder who crowns the Intrepid beauty queen.
Nowadays during fiestas, many muxe wear traditional women�s dresses or drag queen outfits. An increasing number, and virtually the entire new generation, also dress like women in every day life. To Filiberto Cruz, who, at 89 is the oldest Intrepid, this new tendency is rather shocking. In his time, nobody would do it,
although he confesses with a shy smile that he himself would sometimes wear gold buttons and discreet bracelets.
This new transvestite tendency has created dilemma and friction in the society as well. In schools, for instance, some teachers, often from other parts of the
country, do not tolerate the new trend and children, as mischievous as anywhere else, make fun of it. Many Juchitecan women also twitch at the sight of their
traditional dresses on muxe.
�This transvestite process is rather new,� says Amaranta G�mez Regalado, a 26 year-old beautiful muxe who wears traditional huipiles and became famous last
year when she ran for congressional in the Oaxaca state elections. �It started about twenty years ago and I think it has to do with the advent of marketing
and television.� In her low caressing voice, she says she understands the debate about traditional clothing, but states, �It is part of our culture, and I consider
myself a vehicle of that culture too.�
Vicki Santiago Lu�s, a twenty-year-old muxe who was born Jorge and came to Oaxaca because she found Juchit�n intolerant towards gays, decided to wear
women�s clothing when she was 13, against the advise of a muxe her age who thought it could be dangerous. She received the support of her mom, grandfather, and a couple of girlfriends who helped her define her style�western and sexy. But to these days, her grandmother has refused to accept it. Next December nonetheless, Vicki will wear to the vela club baile con migo the regional dress her uncle bought for her to receive the 2004 beauty queen crown. �I am so happy to be the queen,� she confesses with a soft, but rasping voice, her ecstatic eyes twinkling. �I have admired the transvestite muxe since I was a very little boy.�
�The new generation is only interested in dressing up like women and looking beautiful. They don�t think at all about their future,� argues Felina who herself
wears a knee-long blue jeans skirt. �We follow the examples of the older muxe: we work and take care of our parents. My motivation is my parents. I live alone
and it is my duty to help them.�
The new generation’s attitude is not limited to clothing. A few muxe have also started considering using hormones, breast implants or aesthetic surgery to narrow their noses. Only one so far is said to be thinking about getting an operation to remove his genitals.
For Amaranta, who was able to travel around the world as an anti-AIDS activist and is considering furthering her education in social studies, muxe ought to create different roles for themselves within the Juchitecan society. �When I was 13 or 14, it was impossible for a muxe to enter politics, to write articles, to be an
activist, an opinion maker. We had to embroider and create adornments,� she says. �Now the muxe who wants to should be able to open up intellectual spaces for herself.� With her charming ironic smile she adds: �It has not been easy for me. My mom wanted me to learn a traditional muxe job. Between two conferences she would tell me, �at least bake a cake or something.�� When asked if marriage is part of the agenda, the vast majority of muxe seem perplexed, as if they had never thought of it. �People get married, and then they
divorce,� says Felina. �I don�t want that. I want my relationships to last the time they should last and that�s it. And I want to enjoy all the men I want.�
�In Juchit�n marriage is not a necessity,� says Ulises. �It is an issue that you find in other societies, where homosexuals are discriminated against. Here we don�t need a political movement or the creation of special space in society. We already
have it.�

TG Kickboxer – "Beautiful Boxer"

Film Tells of Kickboxer Who Had Sex Change
Fri Apr 16, 7:54 AM
SINGAPORE – A film about a real-life champion Thai kickboxer who hung up his gloves to undergo a sex change operation has meant more than box-office receipts to its subject – it’s given her peace of mind.
The recent Thai release of “Beautiful Boxer,” a dramatic film about her life as a transvestite and transsexual, has helped people understand the tough choices she’s made in her life, former prizefighter Parinya Charoenphol said at a news conference Wednesday.
“After the movie came out, it seemed like people could now understand the reasons why I made certain decisions,” Parinya said through a Thai translator, referring to the sex change operation she underwent in 1999.
“They have given me a lot of encouragement,” said Parinya, decked out in a white satin blouse, floral skirt and sharp-toed boots.
Parinya has been offered several acting roles and has accepted parts in four Thai television soap operas and an action movie.
“Beautiful Boxer” opens in Singapore on April 29.

COS Banquet Speech

This is the speech I wrote for the COS banquet.
* * *
Thank you Staci, the board of COS, and all its members for inviting me here tonight to speak. I want to thank all of you who keep COS going for your time and energy and patience; without people willing to update the website and answer the phone, we’d all be sitting at home in our little black dresses, instead. That really wouldn’t be very fun. Besides, you all look too lovely not to be seen. The internet may be great for support, and chat, and swapping pictures, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about all of those on the TG spectrum, the real goal is going out and being seen. It’s good to be able to put faces to names and email addresses. It’s nice to be able to look out and see people who have said, “I’m going OUT.” Some of you are out for the first time; others of you have been out hundreds of times. For those of you who are out for the first time, or nearly the first time – try to breathe. It really does get easier. And I mean that for you partners, too, who are looking around this room thinking, “how on earth did I get myself into this?” I love that there are partners here. I really, really love it. Thank you. I get to feel very alone sometimes when I’m out with my husband.
I’ve been wondering how I ended up being married to a transgendered person long before I wrote a book and ended up speaking at an event like this, but believe me, I wonder it more and more all the time. Me? Talking about transgenderedness? I’m not even TG. I’m not even sure I understand what my husband and most of you go through.
I’m still trying to work that one out. I had a reviewer recently comment that I had no right to complain since I knew my husband was a crossdresser before I married him. Ah, so naïve, I thought, and cynical: are there people who really think you pick who you fall in love with? Call me a romantic, but there was no one in the world I could have married but my husband. No, I didn’t plan on marrying someone who crossdressed. I certainly didn’t plan on marrying someone who is transgendered. I didn’t really plan on getting married at all, really. But then again I didn’t plan on writing a book and I certainly didn’t ever plan on speaking in front of such a large group, ever. I mean, I’m a writer – and writers tend to prefer the company of cats and computers. But life sometimes has a way of throwing you curveballs, and if there’s any group in the world who would understand that, it’s you. I’m sure none of you planned to be transgendered, thinking as kids, “well when I grow up, I want to be completely misunderstood by the majority of the world, detested by some, condescended to by others, and otherwise terrified nearly every single second lest someone find out my secret.” No, you didn’t. So if you can sit there in the gender identity that makes you feel right, I suppose I can quit wondering what it is that compelled me to leave my desk and stand in front of you all.
I ended up writing My Husband Betty because a friend who worked in the publishing industry happened to call me right after the infamous Dr. Phil show, and after listening to me rant and rave for a full 20 minutes about how little people understand crossdressing, and how so much of the advice that’s bandied about is based on incomplete and very very outdated information, her publicist’s brain came to a conclusion: hey, you have a lot to say – you should write a book! Which others had told me before but had no way to help me do so; this friend, however, happened to be the chief publicist at Avalon books, and was very much in a position to help.
I found myself not long after writing a brief essay for Avalon’s editor on the mistaken assumptions about crossdressers, how they so often take a backseat to their transsexual sisters in terms of the public understanding and the media, and how the only crossdresser anyone can ever name is J. Edgar Hoover, who we’re not really sure was a crossdresser after all. (No one, it turns out, has ever actually seen the photos of him in women’s clothes.) As I wrote, I found myself getting more and more frustrated; like most of you, I had found online resources, and as the then-girlfriend of a CD, had learned the lingo and found the community I could talk to. I’d completely lost track of the fact that no-one outside the TG community knew anything about us at all. And then I read Amy Bloom’s book, and her smarmy attack on both CDs and their partners, and thought, “Well what about the rest of us? Surely the Rudds and the Fairfaxes do not represent ALL crossdressers and their wives!”
It was like being between pillar and post, with Dr. Phil on one side saying “leave your husband,” and Amy Bloom on the other writing, “what hypocrites.”
But don’t get me wrong. I’m at heart a very practical person, and I appreciated hearing or seeing any reflection of crossdressers and their partners no matter where or how, much like my husband, as a young boy, found the definition of the word “transvestite” in a public library and thought “at least there’s a word for it.” I thought, well at least some people do seem to realize we’re out there, that we EXIST, but why is it, I thought, that we get such an unfair shake?
It took me a long time to come up with that answer, and I’ll get around to telling you what I came up with. At the time, though, I had my hands and head full already with learning the alphabet soup (TG, TS, DQ, SO, CD, etc) of this so-called subculture I found myself in, and alternately wondering where on earth my husband had left my new lipstick. It took me an extra 20 minutes to clean our apt for visitors, because I had to make sure the transvestite refrigerator magnet, given to us by a lesbian friend, was put away. Had to hide Miss Vera’s Crossdress for Success, make sure the breast forms were in a drawer, – and where to hide size 10 pumps? Wigs and wigheads, away. Clothes my friends would know weren’t mine, away. I was starting to feel like I might as well be dealing drugs out of my apt with the kind of front operation we were living in. And by then we already had a dozen friends who knew, most of whom were gay or lesbian. We went out to dinner with one couple one night. One of them was job hunting. She told me the story of an interview she’d gone on, and couldn’t find the exact address as she was about to leave. She called her contact at the company and left a message on the person’s voicemail, and then called her own apt when she got near the place. Her girlfriend told her someone had called with the room #. Relieved, she made it to the interview on time.
All was going swimmingly until the interviewer quite casually mentioned speaking to my friend’s “roommate.”
She told me from that moment on she could hardly listen or answer questions as she was plagued with doubt. Should she tell the interviewer her “roommate” was her girlfriend? Did she have to? Would it be important? If she got the job, would she clarify then, or only when she’d been invited to the first office party? Did she have to stop the whole interview to announce she was a lesbian, and if she did, would that mean she was being too strident? Or should she just let it slide so that if she didn’t get the job she didn’t have to wonder forever if the reason she didn’t get the job was because she was a lesbian?
I don’t remember what my friend decided to do. I don’t even remember if she got the job or not. But I do remember how her story plagued me afterwards. It had honestly never occurred to me that a lesbian doesn’t have to be out. She could pass as a straight woman quite easily. There wasn’t any need for her to be a lesbian at work – honestly, it didn’t have anything whatsoever to do with her being capable of doing a certain job. It got me wondering. Why are gay and lesbian people out? I started asking other gay friends why they were. “It’s nice,” one told me, “to go to my boyfriend’s family’s wedding and be able to hold his hand.” Despite what Michael Bailey has to say, you can’t tell if someone’s gay by his voice or his mannerisms. Some, perhaps. Sometimes if you’re already in gay spaces where gay men and lesbians are free to be themselves. But the reality is, it wouldn’t take too much work for your average gay man or woman to pass for straight. Believe me, they did it for centuries, and lots still do.
So what does that have to do with us? My husband and I were lucky enough to know gay men and lesbians. One lesbian friend gave my husband an out of print copy of Mariette Pathy Allen’s book Transformations, which I read about a dozen times after he told me he liked to wear women’s clothes. Another sent me a copy of Leslie Steinberg’s Stone Butch Blues. And being a reader, I read. I read anything I could get my hands on. I think I’ve started the Brooklyn chapter of the International TG Library, at this point. But the point is – it was our gay and lesbian friends who tried to help. When I called them concerned about our safety, it was a butch lesbian who told me you never get a cab right outside of a lesbian bar; you walk a block first, and then get the cab. You never knew who is friend or foe, and it paid to be careful.
And I took anything and everything I learned and tried to share it with the people I was meeting online. And I kept trying to figure out why it is that a lesbian has a talk show while no one knows I exist. Why is it crossdressers are still completely invisible in an era when men can kiss on television? Why was it that Dr. Phil was so wrong? And why did Amy Bloom make all us partners look like long-suffering 1950s housewives?
One of the conclusions – the more historical one – I came to is that a long time ago, some crossdressers were so worried about being assumed to be gay that they distanced themselves from the gay and lesbian community. And look where that got us! Gays and lesbians are out, respected, demanding equal rights in all ways. And where are crossdressers? In the closet, for the most part. Imagine – we might already be out if we hadn’t isolated ourselves so early on.
But the more important answer as to why a man in a dress is still funny is because we’re not out. Tonight, we are – and that is absolutely something to celebrate. But to shut down the ignorance of the Dr. Phils of the world, we’re going to need to be out a lot more than one night a year.
But I’m not here to tell anyone to throw caution to the wind. Helen Boyd is a pseudonym, after all, which I started to use because my husband’s ex-girlfriend had started blackmailing us around the same time I went online to get more information about crossdressing. I had already learned to hide, because of her. Ironically perhaps, it’s because of her that I’m here tonight – a fact she’d probably find pretty frustrating!. An experience like that plants a seed that grows and grows inside you, like a vine. It grows till it fills your heart and your soul. We didn’t even think we were hiding anything; as I said, we already had friends who knew. But did we really want Betty’s parents to find out about their son from the vicious words of a hurt ex? No. Did we really enjoy telling his sister because we needed her to check their mom’s mail for anything incriminating? No. Did I enjoy worrying about running into my boss, or a co-worker, or a friend, when we went out? No. There were ways around it. We could simply not go out. We could use tricks CDs taught us, like if we were walking together and saw someone we knew, I could say hello while my en femme husband would keep walking. We could find our way around it.
But that seed his ex had planted grew. And neither of us liked it. That seed was all about fear, and lying, and hiding. And fortunately or unfortunately, my parents were both children of alcoholics. And in AA, they have a metaphor for alcoholism – it’s the elephant in the living room that everyone pretends isn’t there. Oh, you can walk around it, you can get under it, you can paint the room grey so you don’t notice it as much – but it’s still there. For me, my husband’s crossdressing was starting to feel a lot like that elephant. We went to meetings with others who had elephants in their living rooms, and people gave us great ideas for how to continue ignoring it. But as I said, I’d been warned. It’s really just not healthy to pretend there is no elephant in your living room. It was the blackmail that we endured that made that point very, very clearly.
The first step, of course, is saying it out loud. It’s admitting it. People I’ve met doing the research for this book have found way to admit it in many ways. A lot of them admit it online. Others tell a close friend. For many, many crossdressers, they finally find the courage to tell their life partners. Others are discovered by a photo, a hidden pair of shoes, a tattered copy of Transgender Tapestry. Others find marriages ending in divorce, and have their crossdressing exposed to the courts and their community in vicious custody battles. One crossdresser in my book decided to come out when his wife said he’d tell everyone they knew if he didn’t fork over $100,000, so he told everyone they knew first. He saved himself humiliation and a hundred grand. No matter how horrible the reasons someone came out, I’ve yet to meet anyone who regrets being out.
We found that telling one more person – another friend, actors at my husband’s theatre – weakened the fear. No one we talked to – including our gay and lesbian friends – really understood what transgenderedness was about. But none of them stopped being our friends, either. When it came down to finding community and support, I still had to go online to find other partners to talk to about sex and sharing clothes and the um, interesting ideas my husband had about femininity. The real nuts and bolts stuff – like how to shop for three on a budget built for two, or where to find a gender therapist – required the kind of networking and support the Internet and groups like COS provides. It meant realizing that some people we knew would see us very differently than they had before. It meant I had to have a few long talks with girlfriends who were worried my husband was gay. It meant explaining to gay friends that my husband wasn’t gay. It meant people assuming I was a lesbian sometimes, and having to explain I wasn’t. It meant a LOT of talking, to each other, and to others. Every time we went out strangers asked us personal questions, and still do.
But let me stop a minute and clarify: my husband and I just don’t care anymore if anyone thinks we’re gay or lesbian. Unfortunately for gender variant people the world over, any variation from traditional gender roles – or presentation – immediately results in relegation to being gay or lesbian. But as many of you can attest, we know that’s just not the case. But does it matter? I’ll tell you when it matters: when your mother worries your marriage isn’t happy or won’t last because she thinks your husband might be gay because he wears a dress – which is when you can tell her he just loves women in a way most straight guys can’t imagine. It matters when gay men or lesbians assume we’re gay because we’re both closeted and ashamed of ourselves. It matters to me when the wives of crossdressers assume I must be lesbian or bi because I can enjoy my husband’s femme self emotionally and sexually, and so dismiss anything I have to say about how I got my head around being with someone who is transgendered. (I’m not sure how they work out the little problem of how a lesbian ended up married to a man, but I digress…) And it matters when my husband asks to try on pumps and the clerk immediately assumes I’m his friend and not his wife, because I am proud of our relationship and want it recognized by others.
But despite all of the questions we are asked, and the curiosity people have about who we are and why we are and what we are, the reality is – coming out to our friends and family meant that we didn’t have to be scared anymore, and that we could start to speak up for others in the same situation who couldn’t take the same risks. We are a writer and an actor living in New York City, after all, and we don’t have children and don’t work for giant corporations. Not everyone has the same luxury. We knew our only risk was to ourselves, and we took the risk because for us, not taking the risk meant being in the hands of someone who sought to hurt us.
Since the book, we’ve told just about everyone else we know – including my 70 something Catholic parents. And my father, who is a devout and private man, said simply, “don’t ever let anyone treat you like a 2nd class citizen.” When my parents met Betty en femme for the first time, my mother ended up wiping Betty’s lipstick off my father’s cheek, and the both of them laughed about as hard as I’d ever seen. They laughed – and then they asked me when I’m going to publish a book under my real name.
But more importantly is that since the book came out, I get emails – wow, do I get emails – from all sorts of people. Husbands who have realized they are TS and don’t know how to tell their wives. Wives who don’t know why their husbands are so angry. Girlfriends who want to know if TG is more about sex or identity. Young CDs who have decided to be honest with girlfriends and find themselves single again after telling. And the one thing I can tell you – if you’re not sure of this by now – is that there are a LOT of us out there. TG people and loving partners. Parents, friends, and children. P-Flag (the organization of parents and families of GLBT people) estimates that if 1 in 10 people are GLBT, then 1 person in 4 knows or is related to someone who is GLBT. One in FOUR. That’s the kind of thing it’s useful to keep in mind. Next time you’re in church, or stuck in traffic, or listening to President Bush talk about the Federal Marriage Amendment, remember – one in four people out there is related to someone who is GLBT. One in FOUR.
Now imagine what would happen if all the stealth transsexual women and men, and all the closeted crossdressers stood up to be counted.
Imagine what would happen if all of us came out to a family member or close friend. Imagine if we all decided to do that this coming Tuesday. Imagine, by Wednesday, how many more people would then know someone who was GLBT. Imagine. And then imagine what would happen if we organized for protection against discrimination. If we fought for inclusion of transgendered education for all. Imagine what it would be like not to have to start a conversation with a friend or boss or co-worker with what “transgendered” means the same way that no-one has to explain what “gay” or “lesbian” means.
Imagine boys and girls who could grow up without spending so many years in the closet. Imagine husbands who could marry women who knew long beforehand what having a crossdressing husband meant. Imagine what it would be like if your mom could have bought you a doll instead of a car for your 12th birthday.
Shoot, imagine how many more brands of shoes would come in size 11, if that’s what you need.
Right now, the gay and lesbian community barely knows who we are, or what we do, or what problems we face. They are – maybe by default – our closest allies, only because they’re the most recent group to fight the discrimination against them. We can learn from them. They need to know who we are, and we need to tell them. But if they don’t know us – if they’re only beginning to get an idea of how many of us there are – imagine how invisible we are to the rest of the world. The media may be catching on to transsexual experiencess – the recent shows on CBS and NBC and HBO have proved that – but where are the rest of us? Where are the people who identify as TG, because they’re in the middle or unsure exactly as to where they fit? Where are the crossdressers? We’re not on TV, and I’m sure Eddie Izzard is really, really tired of being the only out there.
But like I said, I’m not here to tell people to throw caution to the wind. We all know there is danger out there – danger of job loss, child custody, blackmail, and even to our own physical safety – danger to our very lives. I don’t want anyone to be unsafe, or to throw the work of a lifetime away. But I do think many of us can find a way to take it up a notch. How?
First, admit to the elephant in the living room. Use whichever words or labels you like. “I’m a crossdresser,” or “My husband is transgendered.” Admit it, first, to yourself. Get used to it. Find a therapist if you need to.
Then, tell someone else. An old friend, a hairdresser, a clerk in a store you’ll never see again. I remember one Valentine’s Day shopping for my husband’s present, and having the clerk look me over and tell me the size I was holding would be fine for me. “Oh, but they’re not for me,” I said, “they’re for my husband.” She was embarrassed for me, and a few other customers swiveled their heads. “He’s transgendered,” I added. I’m sure I was blushing from my shoulders to the top of my head, but I’d said it. And then I did the same thing with the florist. And at the card shop. I outed myself and my husband all over the West Village that Valentine’s Day. And you know what? I’ve never seen any of those people again. And you know what? They didn’t care. I didn’t care. But it made it a lot easier down the road when I needed to tell my mother.
Then find a group like the CT outreach society, or a group online. The NTAC. GenderPac. Tri-Ess, even. P-Flag. The HRC. Use your femme name to join if you need to, and get a PO Box for the mail. But Join. Join one local and one national group. We need to be countable. And give those organizations money. Volunteer. Make sure you get the newsletters and emails that will keep you up to date on what’s going on with GLBT-friendly legislation.
Once you know what’s going on, you can get involved. Vote. Vote as a GLBT person, however you need to do it. Write to the President using your femme name if you need to. Tell your story. Tell it to anyone who will listen. Know who your elected officials are, and make sure they know there is a GLBT person – you – who votes in their district. The more local the rep, the more likely that one of their staff will actually read the letter.
I hope, for the most part, I’m preaching to the converted here. My real message – for all of us, myself included – is that those of you who can’t be out for the million reasons not to be, you can still be heard and seen and counted. For those of you who are out, spend a little more time on issues and outreach and education. Get outside of our community and its alphabet soup and insular battles and tell someone who doesn’t know we exist who we are. And be patient. Don’t scream when someone uses the wrong pronoun. Explain. Remember that they have not read the message boards and the books, and they don’t know the fine distinctions to be made between a crossdresser and a transvestite. Half the time we don’t even agree to definitions like that amongst ourselves.
In closing, let me say this. As a partner, I’ve seen firsthand how hard this is for my husband. He shook with fear the first time he let me see him en femme, and he shook with fear the first time we went to a club, and the first time we went to a restaurant, and two months ago he had to meet my parents en femme, and he was terrified then, too. Sometimes I think it’s been easier for me because I’m not TG, and I haven’t built up a lifetime of hiding and shame that I have to get past. That might be one of the best reasons it’s vital for us partners to get involved, and another reason I’m so happy to see other partners here – we are part of this community, the source of strength and love for so many of you. One of the things I learned publishing the book is that people might be willing to listen to me and ask me questions when they felt embarrassed to ask the TG person – because they didn’t want to offend, or pry, or upset them. But they know I’m an insider and an outsider, and I’ve learned how to live as one of you. The entire TG community needs to put more effort into making us feel welcome. Years ago my husband showed me TG forum, and I remember looking at it and quickly coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t for me – it was only for the trans people themselves. But if women and men are going to decide to be with trans people, we need to feel welcomed – not everyone is going to be as stubborn as I am. And while you’re at it, read a book about women’s lives – it is National Women’s History Month in March, after all.
This life isn’t easy on any of us, and although we have differences – partners’ worries are different from the TG person’s, transitioning people have different worries than CDs, and the T part of the GLBT has different issues that the rest of the GLB – we can only work for common goals if we can see past our differences, and focus on the issues that concern all of us. Right now, the choice is quite simple: we need to work on visibility. And as I said at the start, you are all too lovely NOT to be seen.
Thank you.
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