Growing up I identified with the other little boys a lot,
and with the other girls almost not at all. I identified with the rough and
tumble lifestyle of the boys, and with their carefree adventuring. The girls in
the neighborhood would tag along with the boys at times, but it was always
tagging along. The girls were never the Captain. When the boys played street
hockey, the girls came too, but they sat on the sidelines and cheered and
talked. I played, of course, until I was about 9 years old and despite the
extra pads and helmet my dad made me wear, he decided that it was too rough and
that I couldn’t play with the boys any more. He was right, of course, the boys
*were* rough, but so was I! I identified with the boys.
When I watched TV and saw a married couple, I always
identified with the husband. I knew that when I eventually married that I
wanted to be the one providing for the family, doling out wisdom and
discipline, and being left alone to pursue my own intellectual interests
whenever I wasn’t doing one of those things. That’s what I saw. I certainly
didn’t identify with the idea of rearing the children and devoting my life to
child, family, and house care. I wanted to be an independent person inside of a
family support system. I saw that in the husband’s position in the family. I
identified with the husband.
When I was a teenager and the young men around me were
obsessed with music, body modification, and girls, I identified with them. I
knew other young dykes, but the ones that I knew seemed more obsessed with being
queer* than anything else, and I couldn’t relate. I identified with the
simplicity of being an adolescent male, in part because really nothing was
expected of them. I spent high school playing hardcore shows and avoiding other
lesbians. At 15 my then-girlfriend starting calling me her boyfriend and I
bound for the first time. My male friends treated me like “one of the guys,”
which is to say, as a completely distinct phenomenon from the other females. My
feelings of being different, of being “not like the other girls,” were
reinforced with every turn. I was able to “opt-out” of the gross
objectification of my female peers, largely through this understanding of my
identification. I identified with my young male friends.
As a young adult, my identification with became my
identification as. The lines had blurred, and I no longer saw the distinction –
if I had seen it at all up to that point. I became one of the young men,
instead of the one female allowed in our boys’ club. I was accepted with open
arms, and my identity was affirmed from all directions in my social circle.
It wasn’t until many years later that I really had to start
untangling the differences between identifying with the men in my life, versus
identifying as a man. I think that if I had had Butch women or other young
Butches in my life at some of these critical moments that I would have
identified with them, instead of males. The sad fact is that Butch women and
the Butch experience is really not something that is accessible or visible to
the vast majority of our youth. As a young person, so much of one’s sense of
self is shaped by one’s role models, that it seems no wonder that a young GNC
female would feel identity and kinship with males, instead of with females, if
no Butch or GNC females are available as role models. If the only people that
talk about their bodies the way the way that a young GNC female experiences her
body identify as men, then it is clear to see why more and more GNC females are
identifying as men and transitioning.
I am most motivated by myself ten or twenty years ago to
keep pushing and keep being visible. It is sometimes very hard to stand up and
talk about my dysphoria or my transition, but I think it’s worth it for future
generations. Our young Butches and GNC females need to see their lives and
experiences reflected in a way that is positive about being female and
accepting of one’s female body. I just want to be the example that I wish I had
had as a child. If I can show even one young woman that she is completely in
charge of her body and the way that she uses it to express herself, then I will
have accomplished my goals. I think there’s a lot more than one out there,
though. I think there are a lot of us that need this healing visibility. I will
continue to put my words and face out there for as long as it takes.
I love, love, love this blog.
