If you've been reading this column for a while, you have some idea of what 'transgender' means, so you've got a leg up on a lot of people. But what does all this talk of political inclusion of T with LGB mean on a personal level? Do we just want y'all to be nice to us, or are we after, ahem, other things?
Now do understand that I am speaking for the only person I know really well, myself. I know quite a few other people who consider themselves to be transgender or who do not feel comfortable with any of the standard labels, but it is very difficult to get inside someone's head about this. Please do not assume that all transgender people feel the way that I do. Ask them; talk with them.
For me there are many parts to inclusion: in the queer community or movement as a political entity, as a female person in the queer community, as a queer female person among lesbian and bisexual women, and as a person in individual relationships.
The political thing is simple for me. I believe there is no clear distinction between queer people and transgender people. I believe that protection on the basis only of sexual orientation is not sufficient to let queer people live openly the lives that many of them want to live. We all need protection for both gender expression and sexual orientation. Either one alone is not sufficient.
Since my 'transition,' my public declaration of the gender I have always felt I was, I have been included—as a female member of the queer community—in quite a few things. I've been asked to help plan Take Back The Night, participate in a Women's Resource Center LBT focus group, plan and put on a women's coffee house, serve as the G/L Faculty and Staff Association representative on the campus Women's Organizational Coordinating Council, and other similar involvement that one would expect of any female person active in the community. These things are all important to me; I give my time and am accepted for that, and that is as it should be.
I feel welcomed on a personal level by some lesbian and bisexual women on campus and I'm becoming friends with a few of them. I'm older than many 'out' women, I have children, I'm really busy, and I am very outspoken, so this level of acceptance seems quite reasonable to me.
The one place I'm generally not well accepted is as a queer female person in lesbian groups or organizations. Given my personal history, that is hardly surprising, and I don't push the issue. (I must stress that this is not a problem with most individuals, only with groups.)
However, though I am not much of a joiner, I would prefer to not have the door slammed in my face, as it used to be at the Michigan Womens Music Festival. I do not like 'identity politics.' I am an individual and I want a chance for other individuals to reach their own conclusions about me.
These different levels of inclusion all interact. It is very difficult to avoid being pre-judged on an individual, personal level when I am singled out as different on a political and organizational level. I, personally, am not a social construct, I am not 'transgender.' I'm just Lisa.
Let's not ourselves repeat the sins of prejudice that marginalize all queer people in the hetero-patriarchy. All queer people have been singled out and hurt by being called 'different.' Why turn around and do that to each other?
It's Pride Week at Michigan State University, where I am a systems analyst in the Department of Computer Science. I marched and chanted on Tuesday, I participated in the Day of Silence, and my name's been in all the local papers as the facilitator of the transgender discussion session on Friday. My life would be much simpler if I did not do these things. But I'm queer, and so I fight for rights and understanding for all of us.
You know, a lot of people confess to me that they haven't always felt one hundred percent certain about their gender. Are we going to see a real gender revolution at some point?