A Dahl’s House

An article about a 14-year-old German transsexual going on hormone therapy to postpone puberty until she can undergo genital reassignment surgery, prompted much shrieking from the far-right Concerned Women of America, who blogger Autumn Sandeen thinks are the ones who’ve really got identity issues:

I love satire–it makes me smile. That’s why I have always been a big fan of the Concerned Women of America (CWA), which I suspect more and more might be a creation of the true geniuses at The Onion Magazine, who snarkfully proclaim themselves “America’s Finest News Source.” I think CWA may be America’s Finest Views Source.

These CWA folks on more than about six million occasions have written very concerned (and womanly and American) sounding screeds abut transgender people in which they inevitably use the word “confusion”–usually in the context of “gender confusion.” The brilliance therein is that the spokesperson for the CWA is almost always not a woman and therefore probably not a concerned woman of America, although maybe, I suppose, a confused woman of America.

Thankfully yesterday, the group tipped its hand, presumably because we were too confused to get the joke they were so anxiously playing on us all. Sure they went a little over the top, but now we at least see the joke.

They start a press release (and remember the “of America” part of their name) with the words “a 14 year-old German boy.” Apparently, somewhere in the Germany part of America, a fourteen year-old, in consultation with parents and doctors, has opted for medical treatment that said parents and doctors believe is appropriate for that person. I don’t know the particular case, so I am unwilling to pass judgment on the diagnosis or treatment, although I too am concerned and a woman and of America.

The best part for me about the story is that in this case the spokeswoman for CWA is a not gender-confused concerned woman named “Matt Barber”–which I hope is not some sort of tacky homosexual euphemism I don’t know about.

Thank you, CWA. Now I get it. You are not women, you are not of America and you are not concerned–except maybe about other people’s medical treatment and raising money for your hatemongering.

Had a great time at this year’s Transgender San Francisco Cotillion, which was held at the Regency Ballroom this year. Much nice than last year’s location at a theater. You could get up mid-show to get a drink, use the ladies room, or check out the silent auction. Did I mention this year’s Cotillion was the best attended in five years, with several hundred people in attendence? This year’s Guys and Debutants Walk was great to see as well (with more transguys than I remember from last year), since for many of the MTFs, the Cotillion is their first foray out of the house. What was especially cool is to see the T folks get together with the GLB folks. This year the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were helping put on the event and evidently have been working with TGSF to help them improve their fundraising and organizational skills. (I’ve always been fond of the Sisters, who in addition to their charitable work, do a drag on drag that’s great fun.)

Since I didn’t have time to look for another dress I—gasp—wore the same dress as last year. But I did up the bling this year with my drag princess-in-training rhinestones. Afterwards, I headed over to Marlena’s for the Faux Girls show, which I haven’t had a chance to go to in weeks, so it was nice to get caught up with friends (as well as hanging out with folks I’d met at the Cotillion.

Getting ready for the Cotillion Saturday was another matter… I’d gotten a nice bling-y necklace the weekend before, but I realized it and the rhinestone bracelet I’d gotten were silver-toned, not gold-toned. So the gold purse I had wouldn’t work. I thought I had a black clutch purse, but I couldn’t find the it. So off to Macy’s. Fortunately, I found a silver metalic purse right off the bat (and got compliments about it later). I’d also decided that the black shoes were a little blah and Avenue had some really cute rhinestone slides. Calling around, I found their store in Fremont still had it in my size. So I shlepped over there at the last minute to pick them up. (Had fun with the sales clerk—“It’s for her,” I said, taking out a photo of me in the dress. She didn’t even recognize that it was me until I told her.) I didn’t bother to try the shoes on, because I’ve bought plenty of shoes from Avenue, so I know their sizes. But this time…you guessed it…was the exception. They were too big and there was no time left to exchanged. Grrr…. As it was, I ended up getting there late and missing the pre-show reception, so I only had limited time during the breaks to say hi to everyone. Yeah, I know… tranny time.

Some thoughts on the use of the term “community” (in general) in this essay:

Political leaders and political organizations find the word useful as it can be both positive and politically correct; deviant or controversial groups apply the label community as an affirmation.

“It’s spun so thin nowadays,” said Geoffrey Nunberg, a linguist at the University of California, Berkeley. He says the term has become so trivialized as to be an abuse of language—“If you go online, you’ll see the Campbell’s Soup community, people swapping recipes….

The word “community,” from the Latin communitas, dates back to the 14th century and means “a group of people who share a common interest or experience,” said Jack Chambers, a linguistics professor at the University of Toronto.

“The community is literally the making of some common ground,” he explained. “It’s a sort of self-defining word. If you put a modifier with it—the North Toronto community, the linguistic community—you immediately get a distribution of folks.”

It has retained its original meaning, he said. But it has certainly expanded, which experts attribute largely to globalization and the Internet.

With the advent of the Web, members of various “rare-diseases communities” are able to find someone else in the world who understands their pain. People who make up the hypochondria community find others who validate their fears. Those in the “questioning community” (which has been appropriated as part of the ever expanding term LGBTQ: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender/ Transsexual, Queer/Questioning) can find others who share their sexuality questions.

“Physical location is no longer a constraint,” said Charles Boberg, a McGill University professor who specializes in sociolinguistics. “Local communities are decimated by this process of multiplying non-local allegiances to the point where many of us know the people we communicate with on the Internet better than we know who we live next door to.”

The positive side of all this is that people are able to choose the community they would like to join, which can be a liberating experience, said Prof. Boberg.

In a writing class long ago, I learned the aphorism that there’s two things that are simply indescribable—and one of them is a sunset. So I won’t try to try describe today’s sunset at Miramar (near Half Moon Bay), which was one of the most beautiful I’ve seen in awhile. Suffice to say, I spent long minutes transfixed on the beach. Which was nice after a day of unnecessary running around that had left me cranky.

The closest I can get to describing the feeling is quoting the lyrics from Joe Jackson’s “Shanghai Sky” (from his remarkable “Big World” album):

Strange
How the world got so small
I turned around and there was nowhere left to go
So sad
The dream always dies
Each new arrival closes places in my mind
But I can dream
Until I go
Of smells that I don’t recognize
And by the river
In Shanghai
The colour of the sky
Is something I’ve never seen
After the summer rain
Children smile
Curious and kind
And the world is big again

A quote from this article about Ohio anti-discrimination rules that will protect workers from discrimination not only on sexual orientation, but also gender identity:

It seems hard to imagine that there won’t be some people in the state who are incredibly upset by the notion that people will be being judged simply on the basis of their merit and their workplace performance…”

But kudos to Attorney General Marc Dann, who gets it:

Frankly, I don’t think we should discriminate against anybody against anything related to their sexuality or gender identification in the broadest sense that you can apply it … I just want the best lawyers, best victim advocates … the best investigators in the world. I don’t care, frankly, as long as they do their jobs well.

Christian activists yesterday promised to appeal the dismissal of their federal court claim that Philadelphia officials infringed on their freedom of speech when they blocked anti-homosexual protesters at a 2004 Center City gay festival….

Stengel said the gay-pride event had received proper city permits, and the evangelists had neglected to take alternative means to communicate their message, including applying for a permit to hold a counterprotest. He called the activists’ claims “simplistic.”

Stengel’s decision expands upon a 1995 Supreme Court decision that held that the Boston organizers of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade could exclude gay protesters from a private parade on public streets.

Granted smarter retailers aren’t going to make a big deal out of a crossdressed customer—after a sale is a sale—but I had a couple experiences yesterday that went above and beyond simple “commercial courtesy.”

Among others, I needed to pick up a leather jacket I had taken in by the good folks at Fog City Leather (who didn’t bat an eye at my differing gender from one visit to another), which gave me a chance to check out a plus-size boutique, Go Figure, which one of the women at my nail salon recommended. Normally, I would’ve preferred to go en femme, but with this damn cold I just didn’t have the energy to get dressed.

I was upfront about the fact that I was looking for stuff for me. The older saleswoman said, “I don’t mean to pry but”—“Ask away,” I replied. I ended up showing them my photos and having a nice Trans 101 discussion with the two saleswomen working that day, who seemed genuinely interested in learning more about crossdressers and trans issues. At the end of it, one of the saleswomen showed me their album of customer photos and said if I wanted to give them a photo of me wearing their clothes I’d be able to get a discount on my next purchase. Very sweet of them.

I’ve been a huge fan of Paula Begoun’s “Don’t Go to the Cosmetics Counter Without Me,” a telephone-book sized, Consumer’s Report-style guide to what’s good, bad and ugly in cosmetics and skin-care products. While there are good products out there, there’s also a huge amount of hype that Begoun cuts through. (Just remember, more expensive doesn’t necessarily mean better.) Unfortunately, the book (which you can probably find at the library) has become a bit dated.

The good news is that Begoun has a free 23-page report, “Best of Beauty 2006,” which provides an update with both trends (which cosmetic brands have revamped their lines) as well as specific product picks (at a variety of price points). Definitely worth reading.

I had a great—if expensive—in Los Angeles last weekend.

Caitlyn, one of my former best (female) friends from LA, who now lives in Paris (I don’t hate you, really…), but is back in town for a few weeks. I came out to her back in August, and her first words were: “Oh cool!” So this time, she wanted to see me en femme.

Even though I knew she’d be accepting of it (and she was), I confess I was still a little nervous beforehand. It’s one thing to be en femme in front of people I don’t know well—it’s another to do so with people I know well.

But never fear. Caitlyn and I had a great girl’s day out. We started with lunch at our favorite sushi place, which has lot of specialities you can’t get anywhere else. As we were leaving the restaurant, Caitlyn turned to me and said, “I think the waitress really liked you.” The waitress was pretty friendly, but I’d just chalked that up to her being perky, although she did seem a bit intrigued. I guess another woman discovered she’s trans-amorous. Too bad, I wasn’t really attuned to the possibility someone might be turned on by me being in femme.

(And not that I think anyone mistakes me for female close-up, but the waitress certainly knew I was a guy after Caitlyn accidentally referred to me as “he.” To her credit, as the waitress had taken our order, Caitlyn immediately asked me which pronoun I preferred, and apologized profusely. Even if she kept made the same mistake later on in the day. But I knew she was trying and in fairness, I’m sure she it’s hard for her to shift gears after knowing me for years as a guy (and knowing see was going to see me in guy mode the following day as well).

Next we went to Sak’s because Caitlyn needed some skin care products—with the exchange rate and VAT tax in France, stuff is cheaper here—and she ended up taking me to the make-up counters and suggesting things for me to get. Found a nice blush, and some lipsticks. But definitely not cheap. (Cecilia is more of a Beverly Hills brat than she’s willing to admit to.) OTOH, since I only wear make-up a couple times a month, they should last quite a while.

After that, we went to B&B Hardware to pick up something she needed. B&B is one of those old-time, we-have-everything, high-testerone places—but no one seemed to bat an eye. Then we went to the Nordstom’s Rack at the Bridge (nothing interesting for me on the meager selection of plus-sized racks, but Caitlyn picked up a half-dozen shirts). We grabbed a bite for dinner, and saw “Casino Royale,” which I’d wanted to see and Caitlyn was happy to drool over Daniel Craig a second time.

I’m not sure if I’m passing more than I realize, or if it’s just that Angelenos have an of equivalent New Yorkers “seen it all ‘tude” but I really didn’t seem to get noticed that much, even at the Bridge which has a lot of blacks and Hispanics teens (who in the past have been most apt to stare or giggle). ‘Course it did probably help that I was dressed like an “typical” local, in jeans, a patterned top and casual blazer—and yes, I did wear pants. While I admit I would’ve preferred a skirt, given the unseasonably frigid weather, pants just made sense.

Interestingly, Caitlyn mentioned, she thought I was cuter as a girl than as a boy. Which I supposed might be a back-handed compliment, but I know she meant well. But I can see her point. The baby cheeks that I hate in guy mode give me a softer more “feminine” face, and make-up and women’s clothing are designed to show off one’s physical features. But I think in part, she meant it as a compliment that I wasn’t over-doing things – she knows someone else who’s cross-living, but whose falsetto voice and overly girly-girl mannerisms Caitlyn finds really annoying.

The next day, I got together with Caitlyn again, this time in en homme, since I needed to get some guy clothes and I generally find more interesting stuff in LA than here in the Bay Area. (After all a metrosexual does have an image to maintain.) Sadly, I hadn’t seen much at the Nordstrom Rack the night before (even though I’ve had really good luck there in the past). So instead we went to the Century City mall, which has been remodelled so much that I didn’t recognize anything. We stumbled across a boutique called Veni Vidi Vici, which had some great funky-yet-work-appropriate stuff—and on sale! I ended up getting four shirts, which I badly needed, since I didn’t have too many long-sleeve shirts for work.

Caitlyn also needed to stop at Sephora for some things, and we found a really nice foundation that matches really well (Caitlyn thought my current foundation was a shade too dark—and that’s the value of a good friend: she was willing to point out what others might not.) I had great fun with the sales clerk at the register. She asked if I wanted the foundation gift wrapped, so pulled out a photo of me en femme. “Is that your sister?” she asked. “Guess again,” I replied. “No way!” she squealed. My little bit of trans education…

After dropping off Caitlyn at her parents home, I got a chance to meet up with Isabella from the Betty boards and her husband Rene, who were both lovely. It was great to talk with Isabella again (we’d met when I was in LA last summer) and to get to know Rene. I’ve learned the hard way that just because someone else is trans doesn’t necessarily mean we’ve got much in common, so it’s always nice to meet folks who I feel like are on the same wave-length.

Andrea posed this question over at the Betty boards and I was struck by people’s honesty in sharing their fears. For myself:

...if I knew that I wouldn’t hurt me professionally. I don’t think it would, but who wants to find out the hard way.

...if wouldn’t cause my family to worry. I’m pretty sure they’d be accepting. But I can see where they might be worried for me.

Initially when I answered the question, I mentioned being worried about being ostracized by people I know. But on reflection, I realize all my friends and acquaintances who I’ve told have been pretty accepting. If I come out to someone who’s not—well, then they weren’t really good friends anyway.

But one thing does give me pause:

...if my crossdressing wouldn’t overshadow everything else when people think of me. (Sort of like how it’s never “comedian Eddie Izzard,” it always seems to be “transvestite comedian Eddie Izzard.”) I’m perfectly happy to be seen as a crossdresser—it’s just that “crossdresser” is only part of who I am.

So for the time being, selective disclosure works for me.