Going to camp

Not quite a year and a half ago, Sweetie and I were in Portland, Oregon. Among the fun things we did was to see a film called Girls Rock! It's a documentary that focuses on four girls of various ages who had participated in the Rock and Roll Camp for Girls in Portland the year before. This was early in my transition, during my first "full time" extended weekend, and I was both entertained and moved by what I saw. Here was a place where girls from eight to eighteen could rock out and express themselves freely without any intimidation from boys.

That summer, Sweetie volunteered for one of the camp sessions in Portland. For a week, she managed a band of girls who had just come together that week, and who then learned their instruments, worked out their own original song, practised, and finally took part in a showcase of all the bands. I went down for the showcase on Saturday afternoon, and it was a wonderful experience. Sure, some of the playing was marginal, but even the youngest ones had something to offer. And they were making their own music, the way they wanted to. There was tremendous creativity. I know they were changed in a positive way by the experience. So was Sweetie. Heck, so was I, and I was there only for that few hours.

There are similar rock camps for girls all over, and this year is the first year for Girls Rock Camp Vancouver. Sweetie and I were a little torn, because she would love to go back to the camp in Portland, and I would love to go as well. For one thing, Portland is a great little city, and we like going at least once a year. But it's awesome that we have a camp in this city now, and it was just easier (and less expensive) for us to volunteer here than to go to Oregon for a week.

Girls rock camps allow male volunteers, but many positions are reserved for women only. The Portland camp is inclusive by implication. Vancouver stated up front that "women" includes those who identify as women, not some more exclusive criterion. Still, I'm both excited and a little nervous. I am going to be teaching teenage girls to play bass. This is going to be up close and personal. I will be working with other volunteers to come up with things for the morning assembly, and I'll probably end up doing whatever else needs to be done. It looks like I might not be doing any "drama trauma"—counselling—but I'm guessing that's because they have counsellors who have experience working with youth, which I don't. I was hoping to get some experience, but we'll have to see. Maybe I'll be at the right place at the right time.

I'm psyched for this! It's not until the third week in August. Think it might be a growth experience? Hope so!

This video I just made is somewhat related. It's about voice, which can make or break my presentation.

The joyful stranger

I've written before about one of the reasons that it took me so long to take seriously that I might be transsexual was the lack of positive role models. I could never see myself in the trans women I knew of. People like Wendy Carlos and Renée Richards were celebrities. It was OK for them, but not for me, or so I thought. I never found information that would have helped me learn about other trans women. It's only fairly recently that there has been such a wealth of information on the web.

The one image that stuck in my head was very negative. This would have been in the early to mid 1980s, probably, when I was working as a computer journalist. I was at a trade show, and I spotted a woman who looked familiar. I soon realized that the last time I had seen her, she had been male. She was, or at least had been, a columnist for one of the trade magazines. As a male, she was pretty masculine looking, and she had not lost that as a female. I saw a woman sitting alone, apart from everyone else. In reality, she might have been happy as a clam, but that was not the impression I got. And my thoughts from that impression were that I never wanted to be in the same situation. I did not want to be like her.

Fast forward to the spring of 2004, when I was an active member of a Unitarian church. I was so active, in fact, that I attended that year's Annual Conference Meeting as a delegate. One of the workshops in which I participated was one on alternate sexualities, co-facilitated by Gilles Marchand, then head of Égale Canada. I remember a young woman at the workshop who was doing her student ministry at the time and who said she was in a polyamorous relationship, which was new to me at the time. It was a fascinating discussion.

One of my favourite parts of the conference were the large services. I heard some inspiring speakers leading those services, and it was easy to get caught up in the spirit of worship and song. There was lots of song, and that's where I saw her—a woman who was part of a choir made up of people from various participating churches. I kept looking at her (from far away), and I came to the realization that she was trans. And there she was, singing her heart out with all those people, including the minister of my church, looking very happy. I wanted to speak with her, but I didn't know how to approach her, and in the end I never did. When I saw her, she always seemed to be speaking with someone already. I just watched from afar and thought, wow, this is very cool. She wasn't the prettiest trans woman I've ever seen, but she looked good, and she gave me a much more positive impression than the trade magazine columnist.

The funny thing is that I had forgotten about seeing her until just now. It has been several years since I was an active church member, and although of course I remember that I was at that conference, I hadn't thought much about it for a long time. But now that I remember, I'm thinking that was a seed that was planted. It might have grown even more strongly if I had actually met her and spoken with her. Maybe fear held me back, because I spoke with plenty of other people I didn't know. Or maybe it was that I didn't want her to feel like I wanted to meet her only because she was trans. But then, maybe she would have been fine with that. I'll never know.

My "second life" kicked my dysphoria into high gear, but it didn't come out of nothing. That unknown woman was part of my awakening. I wish I could thank her—for being herself, and thus for showing me a positive image of trans women. The memory might have been filed away, but it never left me.

Sportive

I read in today's Globe and Mail that the Supreme Court of British Columbia dismissed a lawsuit against the Vancouver Olympic Committee (VANOC) demanding that a women's ski jump event be included in the 2010 Olympic Winter Games. The court found that VANOC was obliged to follow the dictates of the International Olympic Committee, and that the IOC, being based in Switzerland, was not bound by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The IOC claimed to be following its own technical rules for which sports are included in the Olympics, but the judge in the case did go on to disagree, saying that because there were no similar criteria for inclusion of men's ski jump, that the IOC was engaging in discrimination based on gender.

I had a feeling this is how things would go, since the suit against VANOC was misdirected. It was always the IOC that was responsible. But now I hope that because of how the judge ruled, including saying that the IOC was indeed being sexist, that by 2014 we will no longer have a situation in which there is that one last winter Olympic event in which women do not participate. I look forward to seeing justice done before the games in Sochi, Russia, and seeing both men and women flying off the ski jump hill.

Sports aren't just for men. Every other winter Olympic sport has a corresponding women's event. Women engage in sports at all levels. Much legislative blood was spilled in the United States to ensure that girls in school had access to the same funds, equipment, and facilities as boys for sports. Sports are for everyone who wants to participate.

Now, not everyone does, and that's their choice. But from time to time I read comments from trans women that they never liked sports as a kid, as though this were some sign of their innate femaleness. It's not. It means they didn't like sports, same as many boys as well as girls. A lot of kids prefer other activities or even reading a good book, and most of them are cisgender.

I happened to like sports when I was younger. I played Little League baseball, and later warmed the bench on the Junior Varsity team in high school. I was on the golf team, matched against the worst player from the opposing school. I played a slow backfield position on the soccer team. See a pattern? It wasn't that I didn't like sports. I just wasn't very good at them. And that had nothing to do with my innate femaleness either. I just wasn't very sportif, a French word that means "athletic."

Plenty of women are sportive. See, that's the feminine form. I knew girls in high school who played field hockey, basketball, whatever was available then. I hope there are many more possibilities now. I don't think a person has to participate in sports to be well-rounded, but for those who want to participate, whether in an individual sport like tennis or a team sport like soccer, participation can be an enriching experience.

So please, none of this crap about trans women hating sports. Sports are not a guy thing. If you don't like sports, you don't, and that's fine. But many women do, and we're women, right? And indeed, there are trans women who fight for the right to participate in women's sporting events, and I support them.

There are all kinds of women in the world and, one hopes, all kinds of trans women. Including some who are sportive.

The thrill is gone

Sing the blues, B.B.!

By now, as I'm sure I've said more than once, in my daily life I am just a woman. A woman of unusual provenance, to be sure, but in normal circumstances that is no more relevant than the fact that I was born and brought up in the United States. I've used that analogy before: both things are true, but unless we're doing research I am just a Canadian woman, not an American-Canadian trans woman.

Tonight, however, I presented an ethical dilemma from my counselling practicum to a seminar of other practicum students. The ethical dilemma had to do with boundary issues that arise when my clients are also trans. So in order to make sure people understood what I was dealing with, I had to make it clear, in case anyone didn't know, that I was a woman with a past.

There was no joy in that revelation. People were very good, accepting and supportive, as has been true all along in school, but I still didn't like it. It made me self-conscious. It reminded me of the prefix in front of "woman." I was somewhat nervous during the presentation, which usually is not the case any more, but I did fine. I could have chosen a different ethical dilemma, but this was really the one that I'm dealing with, so it's the one I had to use. And I got a really good mark for the presentation.

I'm hoping, however, that there won't be any more of those situations. I just want to be me, Véronique. I don't want to be reminded of stuff that I don't deny but would rather not think about all the time. I think about that stuff here in my blog, or in therapy. Those are ways that I keep the stuff out of my daily life.

I think I need to be "just a woman," and to think of myself that way. If I had to be reminded all that time that I was born male bodied, I don't think I would be very happy. I suppose I'd get used to it, but it would not be what I really wanted.

It might be that this is a phase I need to go through. Maybe I'll become comfortable enough that I'll be able to engage in some trans advocacy. Maybe at some point being reminded of my origin will no longer bother me. But right now, I don't want that. Maybe it's because I'm still consolidating my identity. Maybe it's because I really need genital surgery to feel complete. Whatever it is, I'm glad I don't have any more comings out in the near future, at least as far as I know.

Sand and rock

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash." (Mt 7:24-27 New International Version)

If the foundation of a building is not solid, no change to the rest of the building will make it more stable. In fact, any changes to a building constructed on a poor foundation are likely to make the building less stable. You can tweak those upper storeys all you want, but the building will never be right while the foundation is wrong. It might even collapse.

After 50 years of changing things in those upper storeys, trying desperately to make my life right and often accomplishing the opposite, I finally have a solid foundation. It's no wonder I have an underlying current of joy even when things go wrong. It comes from knowing that the basics are finally right. Let the building commence! We'll see how tall this tower can get.

New partially related video on YouTube:

We interrupt this program...

...to bring you a special bulletin.

I had a blog post written about the session with my therapist yesterday. About how she gave me good advice about lasting through the wait until I got an appointment with the psychiatrists who do surgical assessments for the province. About how if I wanted not to be depressed, I should also start getting more sleep and exercise. It was all done, just mellowing a bit before I posted it.

Well, it really was a good and useful visit, and I love to see my therapist anyway. And the advice is still good. It's just that I seem not to have quite as much time to wait as I was first warned I would.

Today, while I was DJing in Second Life, an email message arrived. An email! Not exactly the most reliable means of communication, especially with spam filters. But I fished it out of the junk mail folder where all mail from people I don't know goes automatically. The Goddess must have been watching over me.

The message said that I have an appointment with the assessing psychiatrists on Thursday, July 30. I was stunned. I started crying and hyperventilating. Then I got a grip on myself and put the appointment into my Outlook calendar, marked "Important." I wish I could mark it "Double Plus Important"! There is no way I'm going to miss this.

Now that I know this date, it even means that if I wanted to take a chance with a thousand dollar deposit, I could book a surgery date. I think the wait time for genital surgery at the Centre Métropolitain de Chirurgie Plastique is a good two or three months. Once the psychiatrists do their evaluation, I don't think the provincial approval board will take that much time. So maybe, just maybe, I could actually book the procedure before the end of the year. And who knows, maybe even be lying on a beach in Maui next spring.

I'm breathing normally again. I'm not going to do anything rash. But man, this is just awesome. OK, now you can all beat on me for whining so much. I deserve it. But I'll be grinning the whole time.

Counteroffensive

I seem to have missed the beginning of the "cis" debate. That's not surprising. I try to keep up with my blog RSS list, but I often fall behind, especially on the sites that post a lot like Bilerico, Feministing, and Pam's House Blend. Sometimes too many unread entries accumulate, and I end up clicking "mark all as viewed" and starting over. And missing things.

Apparently, it was Pam's House Blend where the brouhaha began, and although I've tried to read through the comments, thanks to a link from Lori's A T Revival (oops, which is itself a link to Renée's Transsexual Ferox), I still can't figure out what is offensive about the prefix "cis" nor why PHB went so far as to ban someone who defended the use of the term.

Cis means "this side." It's the opposite of trans, which means "the other side." Once upon a time, the Kingdom of Jordan was referred to as Trans-Jordan, because it was on the other side (I realize such a thing is relative) of the Jordan River, and what is now the West Bank was referred to as Cis-Jordan. It's true that you don't see cis as often as trans, which is probably why so few people are familiar with it.

Cissexual and cisgender refer to people who are not trans, people who experience congruity between body and brain when it comes to a sense of their own gender. They're already on this side. They don't have to cross over in order to achieve congruency.

Cissexual is the opposite of transsexual. Cisgender is the opposite of transgender. I have no objection to the trans terms, when used properly. What could possibly be the objection to the cis terms? I'm very willing to find out, but at this point I'm just puzzled.

We need a nonjudgmental way to distinguish cis people from trans people, just as we distinguish heterosexuals from homosexuals. Do heterosexuals object to being called that? I hope not. For gender, I frequently use long forms in order to avoid what I deem unsatisfactory terms, such as "natal" and "genetic." I will write and say "women-born-female-bodied" to mean cis women, and "women-born-male-bodied" to mean trans women. But sometimes you just want a shortcut.

One reason we use terms like heterosexual and cisgender is to indicate that even though a group constitutes the majority, and indeed is normal in the statistical sense, it is not normal in the sense that normal implies better. Heterosexual is not better than homosexual. Cisgender is not better than transgender. Neither should either group be assumed to be the default. Sure, if we assume that someone is heterosexual and cisgender, statistically we are likely to be correct. But it's the societal assumption that heterosexual and cisgender are the defaults that leads to exclusion and sometimes discrimination.

Perhaps that's where the rub is. We also refer to phenomena such as male privilege, white privilege, class privilege, heterosexual privilege, and cisgender privilege. Those denote the attitude that male, light-skinned, well-off, heterosexual, and cisgender should be assumed in the absence of further qualification. In that way of looking at things, female, dark-skinned, poor, homosexual, and transgender are "other."

I don't think I've ever whacked people for being cisgender. Heck, I wish I were cisgender too. Who wants to be trans? So I don't see cisgender or cissexual to be in any way pejorative. I consider cisgender people fortunate to have the congruity that people like me have to struggle to achieve. But they are different than me, in that one area. I don't think this sets up a great divide. It's simply a way of classifying people based on gender identity. It's human to put things in categories. It should not limit us, but it does help us understand the world.

Likewise, I don't think cisgender privilege is the responsibility of any single person. Most people don't even think about it. They don't have to. But I don't think it's offensive to make people aware that it exists.

So after all that, if anyone can explain to me why cis is offensive, I'm listening.