“THE GATEKEEPERS PARABLE”
There was an ancient land with an oppressed people. They were enslaved by the fat lords to the north who ruled with sword and stone. The people rose up and fought for their freedom driving them beyond their lands. When they looked around they saw that they must erect a great wall and build a city. Two groups came together. Those that lived in the planes and those that lived in the villages. The two came together to create the great city. Around the city they created the greatest wall no invader could enter. The wall stood tall and strong.
As the two tribes finished the great city proud with what they created there was a split. The youth of the village dwellers declared that the city was only meant for them. The city was meant for only those that dwelled in villages. The tribes of plains dwellers looked at in horror. They saw the children speaking for the elders who had closed the city gates. The elders failed to speak. Failed to confront the children. They looked out in sadness that they had been locked from the gates. The plains dwellers could see the dust of the great army coming, could smell them in the wind. They saw the army far off in the distance. They knew if the gates were open, their two people together the two could mount a defense and fight the incoming invaders. Instead they fled retreating to the plains. There they hid slowly dying by their own blade and that of their enemy’s. The gates locked the city fell in siege unable to repel the greater invader. Those who remained where once again enslaved.
Not so long ago, well actually it was a long time ago, I was in high school. I had a girlfriend old enough to drink but I knew there was something different about me. I remember when “The Crying Game” came out and thing, “Omg that’s ME!”
I always felt too fat, too ugly, and too manly to consider ever changing or expressing anything other than my birth gender. Pretty much my entire life I felt that way. Before in the dark times there wasn’t really a good representation of gender. I knew I was different I knew I wanted to dress different and be different but being bisexual I didn’t know who or what I was. Transgender was something scorned for individuals who were gay. There weren’t role models and most everyone thought they were the only ones. Most of those I ran into were primarily attracted to men. So in my mind since I was attracted to women and men so I wasn’t trans. Today is so different from when I grew up the world is scarcely recognizable. I don’t think babies born in the nineties can really appreciate the homophobia and trans-phobia back then. The fear, self-hate, and feeling we were broken people for so very, very long.
The world today is different, but I hear a new problem, a feeling of Gnostic or exclusive privilege. (Almost like a cultural exclusivity, transgender entitlement).
I hear people saying that “This group is transgender” or that group is not “Transgender” and it hurts me. I feel we’ve come so far and grown so much only to erect our own gates. I hear many different arguments about why this group is trans or that group is trans and they fall under some ideology about what “transgender” is. I hear cross dressing is not a transgender representation, non-binary individuals aren’t transgender or gender fluid people aren’t transgender. I year so many different arguments with different points and different reasons. The one thing they all have in common is that they are a lie. The truth is in our history cross-dressing and trans guys and gals are so entwined you can’t separate the two. Like it or not many life long cross dressers in retirement will transition full time. Even many of the conventions and organizations now that support trans rights started with the help and funding from cross dressers. We’re so quick to judge we forget to look. Organizations like Tri-ess are not trans friendly but they spawned so many trans women it can’t be ignored.*
We also forget our history. Where in the 60’s it was plain illegal to be trans and if you were trans there were few places to live or work. So your only viable option was to live in the background of society or go completely stealth. A good documentary on how dark it was was presented by the trans historian Susan Stryker. My point being if we forget our history we forget ourselves.
https://www.amazon.com/Screaming-Queens-Riot-Comptons-Cafeteria/dp/B003H05VUY
I think the essential trans exclusionary argument is I’m this way and I’m a victim or I’m a x or I’m a y so only I can be part of this group. All the arguments fail for one simple reason. Transgender is a very, very wide umbrella. Transgender is simply a spectrum. End of story. Can a drop in the ocean say they are not part of a sea?
“Can a drop in the ocean say they are not part of a sea?”
I think the saddest and most hurtful form of exclusion at my sister and brothers who are cross dressers. I think when we try to make judgement on why they aren’t transitioning we presume we know them know their circumstances and what they feel. Dysphoria like gender is expressed differently in us all. Some children wake up and know, “I’m not who I should be”. It’s black and white. There is no grey. I was never that lucky. My whole life was spent in the grey. Was I gay was I straight was I a boy or was a girl? I never was able to fully figure it out. I always wondered who and what I was.
In college I wanted to transition. I remember the day I thought I can do this. I’ve got this. A few days later my Catholic guilt got the best of me. For those few days going to work was divine. It was like going to my last time at camp when I met a girl who cross-dressed. She talked about dressing like a boy. I remember how well I clicked with her and felt at peace I was. A feeling I didn’t comprehend till after I was married and came out. It was a very distinct calm feeling. That’s what it felt like.
So like many of us I purged. Then from time to time I would purge with guilt. When I moved to Boston and finally came out again in 2007. I remember it was the beginning of the end. All I had done was shaved my legs, dressed and put on makeup and played on the X-box. That and some toys was enough for my wife to leave me. My world collapsed when she walked out the door with by little boy. I remember the depression nearly destroyed me. I knew if I stayed in Boston I was going to kill myself so I moved to Texas to rebuild my life. (I did but that’s a longer story and my son is in my life every day!)
Just the idea that I could dress as a woman was enough to destroy my first marriage. To be fair she was a soul sucking she demon. That pain can destroy a person from the inside out. When I married my second wife we had been friends since college. I made her a promise if my gender issues came out I would let her know and I did. I started out as a cross dresser because that’s what I knew. The first time I went out I was terrified. Strangely though I knew it felt normal. Not stimulating but just normal.
When I started HRT my second wife said to me, “I don’t know if I can love a woman?” So by starting HRT I knew that my marriage might end. That was a painful journey and finally after contemplating suicide I realized it was either transition or death. I saw my life and my slow deterioration and chose transition. My wife and I see a therapist once a week. Marriage is hard, transition makes that journey even harder. Oddly though most of our issues aren’t around my transition.
Why am I telling you the reader all this. It’s very simple. We should never gate keep. We assume we know the reasons a person acts or doesn’t act. The truth is we don’t, we never will. People are universes unto themselves. We are not here to question the person. As humans and good people I think it behooves the memories of all those women and men who died before us to welcome and support anyone who wishes to get on the transgender bus. I am not the nail in the bus tire, I am holding the door open. I won’t decide where you sit only welcome you if you wish to ride. If you start learning about our history in the 50’s and 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s with anti LGBTQ+ laws, AIDS, police, murder, indifference and hate we have to welcome everyone. We stand on the shoulders of so many good men and women who came before us who gave of themselves so we could be free. It is a gift we can only redistribute with love when those come to our shores seeking friendship. I will never get angry at you the gatekeepers, never call you out, and never use harsh words. I only ask what happened to you my loved one to make you so bitter. Come here let me give you a hug. I will never agree with the gatekeepers, but I will always have love for you….Unless you drink my good scotch…..Then shit gets real. …..
Pax Et Amor
Victoria
