It's pretty easy to call into a feedback loop between depression and dysphoria. First, there are many overlapping symptoms, not limited to : feeling bad about oneself, feeling futureless, losing motivation, etc.
To help stem off dysphoria, it's often important to do things to regulate one's appearance. For me, shaving, having decent nails, being clean, and wearing clean clothes help. However, when one is depressed, it's often very hard to do these things.
In turn, that leads to more dysphoric feelings, which tend to also be depressing. In turn, one's self-care lapses further, or becomes harder to keep up with, until you're a mess who can barely get out of bed, if at all. It's not complicated, but breaking out of it is hard.
You have to find the motivation (how? where?) to begin that selfcare and bring it to a level where dysphoria weighs on you minimally. That itself can be exhausting and lead to more depression and a return to intensified dysphoria.
And this is why transition is often so important - if I complete permanent hair removal on my face, I will never have the sinking feeling of seeing stubble or the frustration of having a beard-shadow despite shaving that stubble off. That seemingly minor change gives me back some time and effort and it also keeps me from starting off on the wrong foot when I go to the bathroom in the morning and glance at the mirror.
This is a vast oversimplification, not taking into account how other people's loos and comments can trigger dyphoria, how observing cultural norms can trigger it, or how the world being fucked can make us depressed. But you begin to get the idea.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
On #ThisTweetCalledMyBack and #KnowYourHistory and why I find it so upsetting
These are some thought stemming from reading: http://know--your--history.tumblr.com/post/105347135300/knowyourhistory
Being me, I'm not nearly as conciliatory as its anonymous author. Why should I be when I've publicly flipped out in rage over this topic? And have different grievances, vague grievances unlike those specific grievance in the above link.
Months ago, I block Lauren Chief Elk on Twitter. I'm not the most tolerant person, but I felt my identity as a mixed-Potawatomi trans woman was being erased by her. It's so long ago that I don't what she said. And I thought she was a trivial enough asshole so as not to screencap.
Well, recently a rather problematic hashtag called #ThisTweetCalledMyBack started. On the one hand, it's great to call out activists who denigrate online activism. On the other hand, there was a lot of irony in that, as LCE and many cosigners had acted similarly towards other online activists.
Several of those people made ignorant claims about appropriation or being looped out of the narrative. Ironic, as those claims on appropriation relied on weak arguments that failed to examine the evidence, instead relying on an appeal to their authority. Further ironic, because they themselves were acting appropriatively and looping people out of the conversation.
For example, it's admirable to talk about how black people are systemically and violently oppressed by colonial anti-blackness (including in countries where colonies originated, it's worth noting). What's troubling is there's often an erasure and appropriation of the systemic oppression that Native Americans have suffered for years preceding black slavery (the first slaves in America were Native Americans, the first people raped in America were Native Americans, the first people killed for not being of enough use to their masters were native Americans). Nor did the oppression and genocide of Natives end when that of Black people began. It has continued to this day in which if we examine the proportions of how police violence affects people by race, Native Americans rank up there with black people - making it inaccurate to claim that all non-black people of colour do not understand. Yes, Native have a different understanding, true - but an equally valid one as well.
And I've found many mixed voices silenced, especially trans women. It's a lot to unpack, but the mixed experience amount to more than such simplifications as 'passing privilege' or 'colourism'. Many of us do not pass and our racial ambiguity results in strange treatment, very little of it positive, much of it sexualized, degraded, and subject to violence. And there are often privileges we do not have - like that of community. Everyone is lucky to have a community who does. Many of us don't fit in the communities of either of our parents and thus we have only our direct family.
Look, I don't blame them. I have made plenty of insular, shitty, offensive judgements in the past. I will continue to. And I understand how emotions can make it hard to approach things rationally, so I have some sympathy for LCE and cohort. But please keep in mind, they're about as flawed as the rest of us. And aggrandizement of anyone, including them, is no answer.
Update:
As you may no, I recently received notification that one of my short stories had won an indigenous writing contest with a rather large prize. That LCE and friends are willing to doxx their critics makes me understandably more nervous about the notification email that asked for my Social Security Number (I have not yet provided it). Even if it's not LCE etc, it's clear that they've contributed to an unfortunate climate of fear.
Being me, I'm not nearly as conciliatory as its anonymous author. Why should I be when I've publicly flipped out in rage over this topic? And have different grievances, vague grievances unlike those specific grievance in the above link.
Months ago, I block Lauren Chief Elk on Twitter. I'm not the most tolerant person, but I felt my identity as a mixed-Potawatomi trans woman was being erased by her. It's so long ago that I don't what she said. And I thought she was a trivial enough asshole so as not to screencap.
Well, recently a rather problematic hashtag called #ThisTweetCalledMyBack started. On the one hand, it's great to call out activists who denigrate online activism. On the other hand, there was a lot of irony in that, as LCE and many cosigners had acted similarly towards other online activists.
Several of those people made ignorant claims about appropriation or being looped out of the narrative. Ironic, as those claims on appropriation relied on weak arguments that failed to examine the evidence, instead relying on an appeal to their authority. Further ironic, because they themselves were acting appropriatively and looping people out of the conversation.
For example, it's admirable to talk about how black people are systemically and violently oppressed by colonial anti-blackness (including in countries where colonies originated, it's worth noting). What's troubling is there's often an erasure and appropriation of the systemic oppression that Native Americans have suffered for years preceding black slavery (the first slaves in America were Native Americans, the first people raped in America were Native Americans, the first people killed for not being of enough use to their masters were native Americans). Nor did the oppression and genocide of Natives end when that of Black people began. It has continued to this day in which if we examine the proportions of how police violence affects people by race, Native Americans rank up there with black people - making it inaccurate to claim that all non-black people of colour do not understand. Yes, Native have a different understanding, true - but an equally valid one as well.
And I've found many mixed voices silenced, especially trans women. It's a lot to unpack, but the mixed experience amount to more than such simplifications as 'passing privilege' or 'colourism'. Many of us do not pass and our racial ambiguity results in strange treatment, very little of it positive, much of it sexualized, degraded, and subject to violence. And there are often privileges we do not have - like that of community. Everyone is lucky to have a community who does. Many of us don't fit in the communities of either of our parents and thus we have only our direct family.
Look, I don't blame them. I have made plenty of insular, shitty, offensive judgements in the past. I will continue to. And I understand how emotions can make it hard to approach things rationally, so I have some sympathy for LCE and cohort. But please keep in mind, they're about as flawed as the rest of us. And aggrandizement of anyone, including them, is no answer.
Update:
As you may no, I recently received notification that one of my short stories had won an indigenous writing contest with a rather large prize. That LCE and friends are willing to doxx their critics makes me understandably more nervous about the notification email that asked for my Social Security Number (I have not yet provided it). Even if it's not LCE etc, it's clear that they've contributed to an unfortunate climate of fear.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
In support of Chelsea Poe's call to stop using stigmatizing language in porn
Recently Chelsea Poe wrote a call to stop using the term 'shemale' and other slurs against transwomen in porn. She touched on many reasons to do this, but one reminded me of something that still hurts today. Many people can choose to ignore porn or not look at it critically, but as she says,
The idea that trans women were 'traps', out to trick men into having sex relies on the trope of trans people as being deceptive, implying we are not genuinely the gender we identify as. How could my adolescent thoughts understand transition when the only way it was presented to me (in porn) was as some kind of tricky, a falseness. How could I ever transition? All there ever was was boob-jobs and anal or oral sex with men. That didn't into what I wanted for myself. I could never be them. And even if I could, why try when that's the only possibility for a life as a trans woman that was presented to me? And so it grew into a secret shame, instead of a path to transition.
A decade and a half passed before I let myself revisit those feelings. This time I had learned that trans people are like anyone else. Finally I could understand myself in the context of womanhood. With the advent of cam shows (live video broadcasts by porn model), trans women were granted a greater degree of autonomy of their self-expression. While it was still often problematic (between how websites categorized us and how some of us retransmitted the tropes we had learned), some of it served as that gateway of rehumanization. For the first time transition became a relatable thing, something I could do. Living as a trans lesbian became something I could do. Reading and learning more? Became something I had to do.
And so I began transitioning. It has been both the hardest and most rewarding thing in my life. But I can't help but wonder - if my first exposure to trans women had been more positive, maybe I would have waited so long. Those are years I regret losing, the secret shame of my feelings about myself something I never should have had to bear.
And even now, I have seen another shame that comes from this. Because of the fetishization of trans women, trans women who are attracted to trans women of feel some shame. Many of us were those silent yearners, looking for a mirror in porn. When we learned about fetishizers (often what we call chasers, people who tend to pursue trans women solely, often spouting cliches and stereotypes at us, but also often paying the bills when we go on cam or do a porn shoot), some of us felt like we were implicated as well, even though our motivations and interests are different.
So please read Chelsea's post (linked to above) and sign her petition (linked to here). It could change the life of a young woman for the better. And given the rate of suicide trans people endure, it might even save some lives.
The language and stereotyping portrayals of trans women in porn made it impossible for me to truly relate when I was first questioning my gender in my early teens. The dehumanizing nature of these portrayals made trans women a taboo, a secret shame. There was something so important about seeing them, but I could never let myself relate. How could I be like these women when they were portrayed as not being women or men, but exotic creatures that existed only for male lust (because they did not portray Lesbian trans women like myself, that's for sure)?"For trans people, we don't have that same disconnect from porn.For most of us it's our first exposure to what trans-ness is. The terms that accompany our first exposure to trans women’s bodies are terms like “Shemale,” “Tranny” or “TS,” terms to pointedly shame those who have these bodies and those who are attracted to these bodies."
The idea that trans women were 'traps', out to trick men into having sex relies on the trope of trans people as being deceptive, implying we are not genuinely the gender we identify as. How could my adolescent thoughts understand transition when the only way it was presented to me (in porn) was as some kind of tricky, a falseness. How could I ever transition? All there ever was was boob-jobs and anal or oral sex with men. That didn't into what I wanted for myself. I could never be them. And even if I could, why try when that's the only possibility for a life as a trans woman that was presented to me? And so it grew into a secret shame, instead of a path to transition.
A decade and a half passed before I let myself revisit those feelings. This time I had learned that trans people are like anyone else. Finally I could understand myself in the context of womanhood. With the advent of cam shows (live video broadcasts by porn model), trans women were granted a greater degree of autonomy of their self-expression. While it was still often problematic (between how websites categorized us and how some of us retransmitted the tropes we had learned), some of it served as that gateway of rehumanization. For the first time transition became a relatable thing, something I could do. Living as a trans lesbian became something I could do. Reading and learning more? Became something I had to do.
And so I began transitioning. It has been both the hardest and most rewarding thing in my life. But I can't help but wonder - if my first exposure to trans women had been more positive, maybe I would have waited so long. Those are years I regret losing, the secret shame of my feelings about myself something I never should have had to bear.
And even now, I have seen another shame that comes from this. Because of the fetishization of trans women, trans women who are attracted to trans women of feel some shame. Many of us were those silent yearners, looking for a mirror in porn. When we learned about fetishizers (often what we call chasers, people who tend to pursue trans women solely, often spouting cliches and stereotypes at us, but also often paying the bills when we go on cam or do a porn shoot), some of us felt like we were implicated as well, even though our motivations and interests are different.
So please read Chelsea's post (linked to above) and sign her petition (linked to here). It could change the life of a young woman for the better. And given the rate of suicide trans people endure, it might even save some lives.
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