Internalized Trans-Misogyny

[LiliFee]

So, here it goes. Don't hate me for this!

With this post, I'd like to bring up a very delicate point, and one that might cause a bit of a fuss here: our own self-discrimination. As a disclaimer, I'd like to state very clearly that I don't have ANY intention of sewing hate or discord here, nor would I like to troll.

Let me start with a bit of background information. The last couple of years have been a rollercoaster ride for me, but right now things are going quite well and perhaps I might consider myself one of the lucky ones. There's a good job, an accepting family (except for dad, but that's also improving), a broad network of friends and an amazing response to the HRT (12 months and counting). Furthermore, my SRS is about 8 months down the line and it's with one of the worlds best. The bottom line is: WOW, I'd never have thought things would go so well, and I'm not even at the bottom of the rabbit hole... The HRT will still continue its magic for another two years, I'm already fully passable and my support network is amazing.

This has has a very profound impact on me, and perhaps it's only the beginning. But there's also a negative aspect, as I've come to feel it. As my life keeps getting better, there's this increasing feeling I'm judging myself – and all other women around me for that matter – on their/our looks, most of all. My mirror image is continuing to improve and so does the realization I might actually consider myself "just another girl" in some time, but this has had a weird effect when talking to other Trans*Women... Especially those of us who're a bit older and/or not that passable...

... In the beginning of my transition, with me not being passable at all, there was a lot of fear, self-hatred and loathing when looking at myself in the mirror. There was a strong discord between the happiness for taking the decision to start HRT and the mirror-image staring back at me. The thrill of it all versus the fear of 'not making it'. There was this half-baked man looking back at me in the mirror, and I hated myself for it.

As time progressed, the mirror image improved, but in some ways, the effect lingered when talking to other trans*women or looking at photos, and it feels so horrible! I of all people should be able to understand we are NOT to judge ourselves or our womanhood on our looks, but here I am following the same thought-patterns and feelings I've loathed in cis-girls for so long.

We're all sisters in our transition, and my self-image probably isn't that much different from those of us who don't pass as well or who're a bit older: we're women! Women who're capable of loving, caring, nurturing, but also women who're brave, incredibly strong people and so so resiliant!

So why do I sometimes *feel* so bad when talking to one of us who's not there yet, who doesn't lookt the part? My brains KNOW what she feels like, as I've lived the same predicament. But there are those horrible aspects of me feeling bad around them, as if it were a reflection of that nightmare I've had for so long. Why does this happen, and why do I still judge after all of these years?

Sometimes, I just wanna break down and cry, feeling like there's this constant battle with my own conditioning that clearly has a much stronger hold over me than I ever thought. How do you all experience this? Am I the only one? And how do we overcome this horrendous loathing? Because in the end (and I'm really clear about that): our own transmisogyny is misogyny directed at all women. Cis or trans, near or far, "good looking" or not.

I'm so sorry for asking this!

[Sophia Sage]

Perhaps it isn't misogyny, trans or otherwise.

Instead, consider that this is a combination of empathy and your own dysphoria, rather than any "judgment" on your part.  See, our dsyphoria makes us fine-honed critics -- we know exactly how to read ourselves and other people, based on what is, of course, a superficial collection of physical attributes.  But this is how the world works -- and I'm not talking about the terms in which people fit into a hierarchy of physical beauty, but how it is we come to instantly, subconsciously, automatically categorize people into the categories of "male" and "female."  The truth is, it's entirely based on embodiment (which includes voice) and they are pretty damn clear. 

So we look in the mirror, and we don't really have to imagine what other people see, because it's pretty plain and obvious what's what.  Ooh, that brow ridge, that has to go. Oh, my jaw, much too square, let's see if we can't get that filed down.  Hmm, still haven't found that workable combination of pitch and resonance, back to the tape recorder.  More and more electrolysis.  Hell, just walking can be subject to critique. 

And it's all rooted in dysphoria. Which, yes, is becomes a form of self-hatred in front of the mirror, but I never found myself hating on the changes I made that switched the "automatic" visual categorization of myself to female.  I hated that which got in the way. 

But, anyways.  I was at a queer gathering several weeks ago (I'm pansexual) and there were about fifty people at this party.  Including a couple of crossdressers, and one trans woman, Anne.  Who I didn't even realize was trans, I thought she was with the CDs, but without any youth, fashion sense, or indeed anything going for her visually speaking.  But when Anne and I bumped into each other and made our pleasant introductions, the first thing out of her mouth was that she's trans and has been on HRT for five years, and despite everything about her physical appearance to the contrary, I couldn't help but see a woman inside.  No problem getting her pronouns right, and thankfully in this environment, paying attention to other people interacting with her, everyone got exactly who she was and treated her respectfully, no big deal. 

This is not the reaction I would have had when I was your age, and suffering from dysphoria.  Of course, in those days, the only trans women I saw were at support group.  And there'd be plenty who had a lot to be dysphoric about.  Well, just witnessing such dysphoria, how could I not be reminded of my own dysphoria?  When there's so much to empathize with?  My instinct was to create distance, which was really all about creating distance from my own dysphoria.

Of course, all that Anne really had to rely on to get gendered female was her narrative.  In this particular kind of space, that worked.  But was she still treated differently than the other women?  Yes.  Because you can't help but be subconsciously affected by someone's embodiment, I think, until you get to know them really well.  (The CDs also got different treatment.)  The trick is to recognize it and put it to the side, and really look at the human being underneath the flesh.  This is not how we usually make our way through the world, unless you're some kind of spiritual master or something.  Anne, as it turns out, is a very kind soul and so it made sense to me that everyone there kind of looked out for her. 

This is turning into a ramble.  Sorry for the disjointedness of it.

Long story short (tl;dr as the cool kids put it), I think what you're experiencing can certainly fade away after you've made it through transition and those feelings of dysphoria towards yourself are finally put to rest.  The jarring empathic response can eventually be filled with compassion. 

If we could all be so lucky.

[Lady Sarah]

Having had the displeasure of starting my transition in 1991 in SanFrancisco, I have seen plenty of ugly discourse between trans women insulting each other. So much so, that I find happiness living in a small town, where the chances of seeing one is rare. It is incredibly difficult to forget the hate. I had even been physically assaulted while in a wheelchair at the social security office by another trans woman, back then.

At least ( while online) I am safe from physical assaults.