In which I am still coming out, forever

Coming out never ends. Not exactly news; the only surprise is that I haven't written a blog post about it yet. But, well, it's a new semester and that means a new batch of professors and classmates to explain myself to. And I realised today that I haven't bothered to Explain Myself to any of them. In fact, it's been a long time since I've properly come out to anybody.

Now, to a certain extent, I don't need to come out because the bureaucracy loves to out me. On the official class roster given to all of my professors, for example, my name is "Lavinia Bandersnatch (Lawrence)"* -- an arrangement borne of a deep failure to understand the meaning of a preferred name. But when one of my instructors called me Lavinia, I just told him that he'd gotten my name wrong. He cheerfully crossed out the Lavinia and circled the Lawrence and hasn't made a mistake yet. And I cheerfully did not volunteer any explanation whatsoever.

But most of the time, I'm not even doing the reduced coming-out of telling someone my name has changed. Most of the time I'm just introducing myself as Lawrence and carrying on with my life. A lot of people probably just I'm a girl named Lawrence and carry on with their lives. But if you get to know me, you'll... get to know me. It's a tautology but it's what happens. I talk about being the only guy in a Jane Austen class, or being in a fraternity, or whatever, and people figure it out. (Or maybe they know me from the blog, or noticed the disappearing-reappearing tits, or ohmigod maybe they think my moustache is growing in!) It doesn't matter; I end up with acquaintances who know I'm a transman without ever having to have The Conversation with them.

I'm growing to really like this way of being out, because I feel like I'm starting to really enjoy my transition as something focused on myself. The 'trans 101' version of my life story is not the same as my actual life. My actual life is a lot of things; it is my moustache and my thesis; Sherlock and approximately seven chest hairs; walks in the gardens and Shakespeare and having a lot of blood drawn; my life is on my own terms. And I love it.

But there's still that part of me that's almost annoyed that coming out is different for me again, and yet still always there. I started the post with this because I think it might be the most relatable aspect of my life right now; I've had a lot of different 'strategies' for coming out, and I've gone through phases of aggressive announcements and phases of quiet hints, and the only unchanging element was the fact that there are always more people to tell. Or to not tell. The decisions of who, how, and when-- they never stop coming back.

When I first came to Duke, I thought I had perfected the process of coming out. The first time I met somebody, I didn't mention anything queer. If I saw them again, I'd look for chances to make some kind of gay joke at my own expense, or to reference my ex-girlfriend; I would drop exactly two of these hints to determine if I was going to tell them. (It was soothing to Have A System; if anything went wrong, it wasn't my fault.) If I decided to tell them, I'd drop a third hint, and then say, "Oh, did you know that I'm a lesbian? Ha, ha! Turns out I am a lesbian!" -- and then usually they would ask questions and we would have The Conversation and I would be another one-sixtrillionth closer to informing the entire planet that I was Definitely A Lesbian.

Then I started kissing boys and binding and it all got very confusing for a time, and I had to change everything. And then I had to change it all again, and again. And probably, six months from now, I'll write a completely different blog post about how I thought I had finally gotten used to coming out, and finally finished telling everyone who needed to know -- and it'll all change again. And I don't know if folks who aren't queer feel the same way about their own identities, in different respects, or if this one is Just For Us. But at this point, it feels like it's just how things go.

*Ok, that's a lie, it didn't really say Lavinia Bandersnatch, it had my legal girl name on it. But I don't give that out any more so you get a fake name. It's even more aggressively, pretentiously British than my real name, so of course I adore it. I should never reproduce, I'd name my children terrible things.

In which, like most physical entities, I must occupy space

I've been thinking a lot about gendered spaces lately.

This semester, I'm taking a class on women in comics. When the teacher commented on the first day that the class appeared to be all-women, I piped right up and said, "Actually, I don't identify as a woman!" It all went over well, I was pleased, and I mentally categorized the class as a neutral space.

But then, earlier this week, discussing multilayered identity, one of my classmates made the point that specific identities are often called to the forefront of self-perception based on context. "If a guy came into this room, for example," she said, "he'd probably feel a lot more aware of his gender!"

I was surprised how physical my reaction was, and how fast it happened. The classroom became a female space, and in an instant, my entire body tensed, and it felt like my fever had shot up several degrees. (I still had pneumonia at this time.) One of the other students looked directly at me, clearly expecting me to say something, but seeing the recognition in her eyes just made my throat close up. I literally couldn't breathe; it felt like my body was trying to will itself into no longer existing.

When I say I'm uncomfortable in female spaces, this is pretty much what I mean.

She didn't mean anything by it, of course, and if I'd spoken up I'm sure everyone would have agreed that the classroom wasn't really a women-only space. But it's part of a larger loss, for me; women's spaces used to be safe spaces, the places where I felt most capable of speaking up. Now, it's like going 'home' to my parents' new house in Arkansas instead of my childhood home in Kansas; I remember a sense of belonging and familiarity, but I don't feel it any more.

This is the part where I start to wallow in self-pity, because I don't feel any more comfortable in male spaces. I learned the rules of femininity very explicitly; my best friend in high school said she wouldn't want to be my friend if people kept making fun of me, so she taught me how to dress and act like a girl. It involved a duffel bag of example outfits, and more than one practice session. Nobody ever taught me the rules of being a man, so I'm always worried that there's some secret code I'm missing.

I'm not actually all that interested in following the rules of traditional manliness, since I'd much rather come up with my own queer, feminist interpretation of masculinity. I would be OK with being a too-feminine guy in a male space. But instead, I tend to feel like I am seen as an insufficiently-masculine woman, and it's even worse than being in a female space.

Put another way: when I think about entering a women's space, my womanhood doesn't 'measure up', and that's uncomfortable because it's always uncomfortable to be an outsider. But when I think about entering a men's space, I'm worried that my manhood is insufficient, and that's uncomfortable because holy fuck how can I even express how awful and scary that is?

As with all my anxieties, most of this is in my own head; I don't think I've ever had someone explicitly say to me that I don't belong in a certain space. But I've also never been successfully read as male, ever. So I prefer to dodge the question by occupying co-ed spaces as much as I possibly can.

In this way, my classmate was absolutely correct. My awareness of my gender is directly related to my context. In class, at work, or with close friends, I don't worry about fitting into a specific category, and sometimes I even enjoy being a little 'in between.' (A much cheerier blog post is pending on just this topic!) But as soon as I'm reminded that gender is apparently supposed to be a binary, I panic.

And that's where baby blog posts come from.


P.S. - Starting to wish for a neutral space of your own to explore your gender expression? Consider visiting Spectrum, a discussion group for "all individuals who do not conform to gender norms or embrace the sex they were assigned at birth, including those who identify as transgender, genderqueer, transsexual, intersex, gender questioning, or are reading this blurb and getting excited that there might be a place for you on campus." We are open to anyone who would like some support as they deal with questions of gender, with no policing, but please be aware that this group is not intended for allies. Membership is not publicised. Meeting times are on the LGBT center events page; email jess.evans@duke.edu for more information. We are especially hoping to connect with those who fall onto the feminine side of the spectrum!


And if you're an ally who just wants to know more about trans issues, as always, feel free to ask me a question here or email me any time at lawrence.evalyn@duke.edu!

In which I return, a changed man.

It's been a long summer, and even longer since I last wrote. A lot has changed! Among other things, I no longer feel the need to use a pseudopic on this blog, so now I am fully de-anonymized. Say hi if you see me!

I also came out to my parents, and they pretty much said they don't want to see me again for another decade, but I don't want to talk about that yet. (I actually can't talk about it yet. My throat closes right up.)

Instead, I want to talk about the changes that make me happy. I came out at work, finally, so I don't have to sit next to a sign with my girl name in all-caps when I'm on shift. It's changed in most of the internal systems too; I had a coworker comment that there was apparently a new guy named Lawrence, and when I told him it was me, he congratulated me.

Last semester, I had a lot of angst about how to come out in classes. This time around, I actually had Lawrence [LastName] as my 'preferred name' in ACES. It turns out that ACES is kind of an asshole about 'preferred names' so my teachers were given the name "Lavinia Bandersnatch (Lawrence)"* but that is a rant for another post. The important part is, all my profs either asked for Lawrence, or let us introduce ourselves and marked me down as Lawrence with no fuss.

Better than that: in French class, we were doing a group exercise where we had to mingle and find people who fit certain categories. I was the only senior, and the following beautiful exchange happened:

Classmate [talking to someone else]: She's a senior--

Me: He, sorry.

Classmate: Oh, I'm sorry! [Turning back to the other person.] He's a senior...

In another class, I happened to already know one of the other students. Before class started, I told him that I'd changed my name and I was going by Lawrence now, and he congratulated me. "That's really exciting news!" he said.

I don't use my "polite girl voice" so much. I've used men's rooms three times, and even used the men's shower earlier this week. I got turned down for a date because the girl in question was a lesbian - and yeah, that counts as good news! I bind every day. I'm pretty sure my tits have actually shrunk a cup size, which is a miracle I try not to investigate too thoroughly in case it reverses itself - but they don't weigh so heavily any more, physically or psychologically.

A close friend actually commented that I seemed much more masculine since I'd left for the summer. She thought maybe I'd started T, but I think I've just been settling into my skin. It's a good feeling.

*Ok, that's a lie, it didn't really say Lavinia Bandersnatch, it had my legal girl name on it. But I don't give that out any more so you get a fake name. I think it has a certain je ne sais quoi, don't you?

In which I am a little exhausted

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym not their full name (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

Hey there, what have you been up to? Doing okay? Great, great. Oh, me? I've been knowingly making myself miserable, but what else is new?

So, every month, I do this thing where I start running low on birth control pills. I wake up and say, "Only five pills left! Better call in the prescription!" -- but then I don't. So the next morning I wake up and say, "Only four pills left!" -- but I still don't call. I don't call in the prescription until long after the pills are gone. I resist and resist, until PMS sets in. I can't describe how terrible PMS is for me. (Well, I can, but I deleted it because it's super gross.) And yet, I knowingly bring it on myself -- more than once a month, since lately I've been getting sloppy about taking my pills even when I'm not running out!

Or, this semester I've been doing this thing where I kind of don't go to class. Well, I always attend my grad class. And I pretty much attend Romanticism, because that dude is a hardass about late homework, but if there's nothing to turn in, I don't bother. King Arthur, though-- I think I'm literally 50/50. And Astronomy... last night I was up until 5am marathonning recorded lectures in a desperate attempt to prepare for the quiz today, because I haven't shown up since the last quiz. I wish that guy kept track of attendance; I might actually go. I like these classes. I like these professors! I'm actively curious about the subject matter. And yet-- resistance.

I know what I need to do, to make myself happy, and it even lines up with what I'm naturally inclined to do, and yet-- I resist. So I just end up stewing in my unhappiness and my bitter knowledge that the whole thing is my own damn fault.

Except-- the resistance isn't my fault, not completely. I resist taking my birth control specifically because it feels so wrong to put fucking estrogen in my system. And I resist going to class because it's the only place where I'm still in the closet. The closer I get to making my life look the way I want it to look, the harder it is for me to endure the parts that still don't match.

I wish I could just dodge the question for a little while, to take a break, but the world we live in doesn't allow for that. People make judgments about my gender before they even ask my name, so I'm fighting an uphill battle from the beginning. I can only choose to correct them, or let the lie stand. And when my teacher starts with "Yes, the girl in the back-- sorry, I don't know your name," there's no way I'm going to respond to that by saying to the whole classroom, "It's Lawrence."

I had to choose between outing myself to everyone in all my classes, and shoving myself back into an increasingly-agonizing closet every time I wanted to learn something. Being closeted is hard to bear, and genuinely impeding my ability to learn, but coming out would have to be such a production, it would surely get in the way of my classmates' education, too. I don't want class time wasted on people's double-takes, or on clarifying my identity, or on anything to do with me. So until there's a chance that anyone, ever, would look at me and consider the possibility that I might be male, this is what I'm sticking with.

Which just leaves me feeling like this whole thing is so unfair. I have to choose between having my identity acknowledged, and learning during class time. But I've been a little sick lately, and I'm stressed out because my car broke down, and I don't want to go through that kind of emotional turmoil to learn how to predict lunar eclipses. I just want to go to class and do my homework like a normal student. And I can't.

Usually I like to open things up for trans 101 questions in my posts but I think I'd rather not, this week. Right now I'd like to focus on all the other things in my life, rather than letting this one aspect define me.

Instead, I'd like to ask all of you to do me a favor. Don't assume you know someone's gender until you've at least asked their name. Actually try this. When you get dinner tonight, don't think about the girl in line ahead of you who is taking forever-- think about the person ahead of you. Self-censor your own gendering instincts as much as you can. And I guess, let me know how it goes. It'll probably be harder than you expect.

The Whole Truth

I find it disheartening to write about problems to which I feel there is no real fix, but this blog is "Our Lives," right?

As much as I'd love to say that I'm open with everyone, that I'm completely confident in being my full self all of the time, and that I never have reservations in disclosing my sexuality, it's not true. I have a closet. It may only exist for fifty minutes out of the week, but it's there.

I spent my last two summers living in Russia on exchange. Why did I choose it? I felt the need to experience a new part of the world, and this program was without cost to me. It was my first time out of America (and flying, for that matter). Russia is far behind in terms of acceptance, so, for convenience and for safety (at our pre-departure orientations, the program advised against coming out to Russians: "No matter the bond you've built with your host family, they'll probably just kick you out."), I was only open with my American peers.

Ironically, I had my first relationship (with a fellow American) this summer abroad, but that's a story for another day.

Enter Russian class, Duke University.

"Do you want to get married?"

My response: "No."

Yes, of course I want to get married someday. I can't bring myself to tell my teacher that, though. In class, we learned two different expressions in Russian for the English phrase "to get married." There is one for those who marry women, and one for those who marry men. His question and my response both contained the "marrying a woman" verb. It isn't exactly a lie. I don't want to marry a woman. However, it's not the whole truth.

The follow-up: "Why not?"

"I like being alone."

A complete lie. It was all I could come up with in Russian on impulse, and I hate that I said it.

Maybe I'm not giving him a fair chance, but I feel that the classroom setting is neither the time nor place to speak out on this issue. Furthermore, I actually slipped up once and made the mistake of answering, "I am not married" using the participle form of the "marrying a man" verb. My teacher quickly corrected me, laughing, waving his hands, and stressing the importance "watching word choice" in that situation. "You don't want people to think . . . you know . . ."

It isn't like I want to strengthen the bond between my teacher and me. I just hate that I feel the need to keep the whole truth inside.

Like I said, I don't know if there is an immediate fix to this. For now, it's simply an annoyance. At least I'm an optimist. After all, times are changing. Look at how far we've come.

WOMYN Wednesday!

[WOMYN magazine is excited to announce that we will be featuring polls from our community in the magazine! The general goal of WOMYN magazine is to increase the visibility of LGBTQ women on this campus.]

BIG NEWS: The submission deadline for WOMYN magazine is in 7 DAYS, or NEXT WEDNESDAY!!! Don't miss out on a chance to publish your thoughts in this semester's publication! Email us your piece at womynatduke@gmail.com within the next week!

This week's WOMYN poll is:

"Would you speak up in class if you heard the following comment?" (see below)

Click here to vote! (We've also left a comment box for additional ideas or past experiences.)

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The following situtation happened in a Duke classroom last week:

In an 8:30am class, within the first 20 minutes of discussion, the conversation turns towards gender. One student in the classroom says, "My friend likes reading Glamour, Cosmo and watching Gossip Girl...but I mean, he's totally normal-he likes girls....".

No one in the class stopped the discussion to remind this student that her comment excluded roughly 10% of the population at large. Do you think you would have spoken up?

(You can view the results of the poll in WOMYN magazine when it hits campus late fall semester!)

[Photo credit: Upper Right, Matt Lyons: pimc2cm@gmail.com]

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Want to submit to WOMYN magazine? Click here to look at some ideas of what to submit. All are highly encouraged to submit - LGBTQ and straight-allied. Anyone with a Duke affiliation is eligible to write for WOMYN, including alumni, staff, faculty, undergraduate and graduate students alike.

Check out our website for more information on how to submit, and feel free to email us with any questions you might have: womynatduke@gmail.com.