Marked

The issues I discussed in my last post, “Cis-/Trans- Isomerisation” still bother me. It troubles me that there are folks who would use “cis” as an insult aimed to hurt the people who may otherwise be our allies, and it troubles me that people now find the term offensive, when it was meant to be neutral, to allow a discourse of both trans and non-trans people, and to put the two groups on even footing. The thing is nobody really likes it when an outside force labels them—hell, a lot of people don’t even like labelling themselves. It’s nice to think, “labels are for envelopes,” but in the real world, labels are a necessary evil. Without them, we would have no means of addressing the issues at hand (in this particular instance, discussing social and biological narratives of trans and cis individuals in order to bring insight and understanding to these important cultural issues as well as help fight against some of the oppression that is all-too-often shunted onto those who fail to conform to the combine of sex and gender regulations, whether that nonconformity be stemming from biological determinants or the unforgiving demands of an idealist culture).
I noticed upon rereading my last post that it could have come across that I was denoting “cis” as an identity. If this is indeed the case I apologize and outright blame this slight on fatigue and a complete lack of editing (which I touched upon in the author’s note). Cis isn’t so much an identity as it is a description of a social or cultural perception. To quote Julia Serano:

An analogy: I don’t strongly *identify* with the terms “white” and “able-bodied,” even though I am both of those things. After all, I have been able to navigate my way through the world without ever having to give much thought to those aspects of my person. And that’s the point: It is my white privilege and able-bodied privilege that enables me *not* to have to deal with racism and ableism on a daily basis!
In general, we only identify with those aspects of ourselves that are marked. For example, I identify as bisexual, and as a trans woman, because those are issues that I have to deal with all of the time (because of other people’s prejudices). While I may not strongly identify as white or able-bodied, it would be entitled for me to completely disavow myself from those labels, as it would deny the white privilege and able-bodied privilege I regularly experience.

I hope that clarifies some of my thoughts around using the terms “cisgender” and “cissexual.” At the end of the day, these words are meant as tools to teach one another and to help us recognize differences in our own stories, helping us to become more understanding and compassionate of one another—and, of course, not take our own privilege for granted! (And yes, we ALL have privilege and oppression that affect our lives). I don’t particularly want to discuss this issue any further, because I’m sick of it. I’m going to continue using the term cis (or cisgender or cissexual where appropriate) to highlight a specific narrative. I’m not going to use it to imply transphobia or to imply that anyone not identifying as trans is somehow ignorant or bigoted, and I will not be using the term in the context “hey you cis transphobe, yadda yadda yadda”—those usages of the word really aren’t appropriate, and I discourage them.

That said this whole discourse around cis and trans has brought up one degree of cis privilege that I want to discuss openly, as it is one privilege that I envy above all others (and again, this isn’t meant to assume cis people are transphobic or unaware of this privilege...I’m not making judgements about anyone’s biases here. I really hope I never have to put this kind of disclaimer anywhere again).
Before my plane even left El Paso, people here in Adelaide knew who I was and, more importantly, they knew that I am trans, even though I never once mentioned my biological history to anyone in this hemisphere at the time. They had got wind of it by utilizing the magic of the internet! Evidently, my biological history is plastered all over my facebook, certainly in this blog (which I stupidly or arrogantly or hopefully—your pick—list on my facebook), and more than that, my name pops up in several google/yahoo searches in articles discussing LGB and especially T issues. All you need to know is my name and the links pop up; throw the word “transgender” into the search and boom: I’m all over the place. But, even beyond that, my history is easily uncovered by asking any number of my acquaintances, as most of the have heard me speak on trans issues either within private groups or on forums. And again, even if you didn’t know my name or anyone I happen to know, my trans status is apparent in my physical features, should you know what you were looking for. Altogether, this simply means one thing: my closet has been reduced to ashes. There is no chance for me to go stealth at this point; not unless I delete my blogs, my email, my facebook account, and any other mention I own online; not unless on top of that I change my name, cut all ties with everyone I know, move to a completely different part of the word, and undergo some surgeries to mildly change my appearance. Even then, though, traces of the former self would remain, and anyone with enough time and dedication could uncover the paper trail. I am underscoring one simple, albeit cruel, reality: there is no such thing as stealth.

But let’s suppose for a minute that it is possible to do all the above—to completely erase the old self and become someone else, to in essence fully convert from trans to cis (at least in the perception of everyone in the world, including governments, doctors, lovers, friends, enemies, etc.) Even then, I could never be stealth from myself. It’s no small secret that being trans is a large part of my life; I live it, I study it, and I’m an advocate because of it. Recognition of my trans status is constant for me, and while I can say that trans and cis women are not inherently different from one another, I can feel the difference in my own mind.

On a very activist-oriented level I know that there is no inherent difference between cis and trans women, and the assertion of such a difference would imply that all cis women are the same as one another and that they are a distinct group, separate from trans women. Moreover, it would neglect the large variation between and overlaps among cis and trans women (to paraphrase Julia Serano again). But that said, there is a persistent feeling of difference. And maybe this is a product of socialization or of the intolerances prevalent in our culture.

Discussing the issue around word like cis and trans, I often heard the argument, “I don’t identify as cis.” Everytime I read this statement, a part of me whispered, “Well, I never wanted to identify as trans. I fought against that identification until denying it further brought me to the brink of my tolerance. I fought against it until I realize I had to transition or die.” I often wish I could fade into obscure oblivion—enter into the normalcy offered to the cissexual world and never have the recognition of my biological reality constantly at the forefront of my mind. While I identify as a woman, I can never *just* be a woman—there is a lot of additional information that gets tacked on there, whether I like it or not. And whether I like it or not, I am always going to be aware of these circumstances—that’s why we call it an identity. We’re marked.