money for procedures (surgery, electrolysis, hormone
patch) with no health coverage. And here’s what he’s giving up: all the advantages of a good marriage, the closeness, the trips, the plans, the sex, the mother- in- law, possibly the stepchildren; the perks of being a man, the automatic authority, the respect of agents, clerks, waiters, his secure place in society.
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He expects to be treated like a freak. “My therapist told me about
a transsexual patient of his. She went into Starbucks not too long ago, and when she was paying for her coffee, she thanked the guy at the
register. ‘You’rewelcome, sir !’ he said with heavy emphasis.”
Who would choose this? The cardinal belief among homophobic
conservatives that individuals “choose” to be homosexual, with all its
disadvantages, is questionable enough, but it would be insane for any-
one with a relatively secure and traditional life and lifestyle to throw it all over for a life considered beyond the pale and whose outcome is
dubious at best. “Lifestyles,” and identities, in this era of rampant individualism, are not totally without “choice”: we may, and may often,
choose which “side” of ourselves to act upon, which to disavow.
There’s the minister who chose to suppress rather than express his gay
side, as his Christian vocation was more important than his (as he sees it) sex life. Cynthia Nixon angered some in the gay community when
she admitted to having been married to a man, then chose to live as a
lesbian. For some, it is easier to suppress, or at least marginalize, sex drives than for others. Nixon honestly confronted the heterosexual
side that most homosexuals rigorously deny. Even transsexuals deny
their former selves, change their birth certificates, but for them, precisely because of the fearful consequences, the word choice seems a
misnomer.
“Did you make mistakes,” I ask him, “catch yourself in public think-
ing I’m a woman and behave differently?
“I didn’t so much think I’m a woman as think I’ve got to act like a
man. Later there were times when I’d do something like the gesture I
just did— palms open— and I’d catch myself and think, that’s female.
A man tends to show the back of his hands; the female is much more
submissive. There are little things like that, or maybe you cross your
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legs in the wrong way and suddenly you realize and correct yourself.
You have your antennae up all the time.”
“So you’re a student of female and male behavior.”
“Yes, all my life I looked at women and women’s fashion. I was
aware of the way they were dressing. I think back on certain events
now, like once coming home from school, or maybe it was cotillion,
when I was in an all- girl car pool. The other boys were jeering, and
envious. I played it to the hilt; it was cool that I was in the midst of all these cute girls, but at the same time I was thinking—”
“This is where I belong.”
Ethel had suggested we get in touch with gay activist groups or the
umbrella organization GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgen-
der) National Help Center, but transsexuals are not really regarded as
one of the fold. I mentioned it to my brother on the phone, after he’d
gone home.
“They think of us as freaks,” he said, “the same way straight peo-
ple do.”
How sad was this! I suppose there’s a certain logic: gay males in
thrall to the pleasures of the phallus would naturally be the last to
identify with such self mutilation. They simply can’t understand it. (In all fairness, who can? Certainly not transsexuals.) Moreover, as political activists, gays have a hard enough time of it without incurring even more culturally dubious fellow travelers. To them, the transsexual is
the crazy aunt
Alexandra Végant
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