Living a Lie, or, Life is Not Dichotomous (and stuff)
If there's one phrase used frequently in the TG community it's 'living the lie', or 'living a lie' etcetera, and it's usually used in the context of, 'I couldn't go on... Living a lie' or roughly translated,... 'I'm out'. A lot of straight folks get a lot of milage for amusement sake out of that phrase. Mainly because to them what is on the surface, what is tangible, what is touchable, what can be plainly seen with the eye is reality, and in our society more often than not a perceived reality equals truth. A 'seeing is believing' mentality if you will. To most what is visible on the surface is reality, and not much consideration is given to the mental/spiritual being i.e., If I am normal, and you look normal- we are fundamentally the same (flesh, blood, bone), therefore, you should not be different from me and as such, you cannot deviate from normalcy as I see it. So if the surface is normal, how can one 'live a lie' if they in fact ACT normal? My answer to that is quite simple; If you have to make a conscious effort to ACT normal, or display behaviors that are perceived as normal, you are in essence, living a lie. Now things start to get scary. We are people of free will. It means we can do pretty much what we please as long as we don't (get caught as we) break any common laws.
We are free, to a degree, to pursue our individual interests within Societal boundaries. Those boundaries are a stew of moral, ethical, and belief driven factors. When someone steps outside those boundaries, they are often labeled troublemakers and malcontents, even though in some cases they are not making a conscious 'choice' to break the norms i.e., I will behave like a female because it's good campy fun vs. I behave as a female because it's how I naturally feel inside. I happen to believe there is a difference between let's say, a pathological criminal who steals for reasons beyond most of us average folks' understanding, and a criminal who enjoys making others his victims for pleasure (which in itself may be pathological, but for arguments sake, lets just say he likes it void of accompanying pathology) Criminal number one may not have an inkling as to why he steals, therefore, is it a conscious choice if it is pathologically induced? (I don't want to get into the treatment of criminals here, I am only using them as an example) Criminal number two likes the 'rush' he gets from jacking people up for their belongings in darkened parking lots. He admits he doesn't 'need' to do it, (maybe because his parents are wealthy?) and in fact he has stopped for lengthy periods of time. Starting to sound a little familiar? Is Transgenderism a pathological disorder? Some forms categorically are, some are not. If you are diagnosed a Transsexual (by professional medical opinion) I believe you have not made a conscious choice to be the way you are, because the nature of Transsexualism implies pathology.
Please indulge me as I offer the following example: In the course of a day, lets say Saturday evening, a 'normal' man may feel inclined to join his friends at the bowling alley for a few frames and a couple of beers. He bowls, he brags about his past sexual conquests, he complains about his spouse, he smokes a fat-stinky cigar, he drinks too much and he goes home feeling pretty good about himself. No problem. Now lets look at another 'un-normal' man. He does the exact same things as the 'normal' man, except he does them with an acute subconscious fear that if he does not engage in this behavior, he will be labeled 'p-whipped', or worse, a 'Fag'. This particular label opens up endless possibilities for further 'micro-labeling' as I like to call it. It's not necessarily a derogatory remark reserved exclusively for Homosexuals. It's kind of a male catchall phrase for anyone who does not reach a certain mark on the masculinity meter. The point is, our un-normal man is acting the way he is for a specific reason,... He must hide his true self, survival some would call it. Society says it is bad for a man to have overtly female qualities, and displaying them publicly is a surefire way to attract the kind of attention you don't want or need.
A humorous, and quite ironic note to this story is that in the middle of writing it (I took Sunday off to rest) I happened to be walking around a local shopping center late in the evening with a friend. As we strolled past an almost empty parking lot, someone shouted 'Faggot!' from a small, parked, white pickup. The fact that my friend and I were the only two people within eyesight, and that my friend happens to be quite masculine in appearance, led me to believe that the shouter indeed was directing this remark towards me. This has only happened to me one other time in my life. On a beautiful Spring morning as I stood outside a couple of years past, a teenage boy barked it at me from a passing school bus, I suppose because I was wearing a hot pink T-shirt. I was able to dismiss it coming from the kid, mainly because I knew he was doing it just to piss me off. The guy in the truck however seemed to be making a statement, he too was probably doing it in part just to irritate me, but I knew instinctively that he was also pointing me out to his friend who sat beside him giggling, and possibly his intentions were to announce it to my friend, just in case he didn't know. I felt a slight tugging in my jeans,... Something moved almost imperceptibly, my 'Boys' were being awakened from their year long sleep.
For most of my life I have gone way overboard in trying to portray that hyper-masculine image. A tall, large, and fairly muscular man was I. Now, more than a year after starting HRT I am starting to soften appreciably. My features have always been vaguely feminine, even with my heavy dark beard, but the effect of almost two years of electrolysis has rendered my complexion fairly smooth. My hair has grown quite long and thick and, I pluck my bushy brows to nice sweeping lines these days. I definitely don't reach the required mark to achieve any amount of respect on the masculinity meter. This meter by the way, is something every male has built into his vision much like Col. Steve Austin, The Six Million Dollar man. Every male can look at another man and instantly tell whether or not he is a 'Fag', it is the antithesis of 'Gaydar'.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure about what to do, but my Boys assured me that they could handle the situation, and that I should shut up and get out of the way. I found myself turning slowly and very calculatingly towards the offenders truck. Maleness was pounding through my veins like mercury in a thermometer that has been touched by a flame. My mouth opened and these words stabbed forth,... 'Why don't you get out of the truck MotherF**ker!!??' The 'Boys' were in complete control, my heart thumped wildly in my chest, my arms opened wide in the universal "Here I am" gesture, and once again harsh words burst from me into the cool night air,... 'Why don't you get out of the F**king Truck, you Punk Bitch!!??' No response,... Silence settled on the little white vehicle as the echo of my verbal assault washed across the huge parking lot. My Boys prodded me to give the two boy-men who sat bewildered in the safety of their little truck, a very convincing Arnold Schwartzenegger 'F**k with me, and I'll snap your spine' look. I walked away, slowly, triumphantly, with the accompanying Arnold gait.
F**king little Pr**k my Boys mumbled. I think it's important to mention here that I rarely use profanity anymore as an adjunct to my communication skills(?). Just like the Incredible Hulk after one of his sheer green rampages, I suddenly felt drained. I felt control of my body slowly being returned to me even as my energy level dipped drastically. I wobbled as I walked, I looked over at my friend who was also visibly shaken. The ensuing conversation between us was a generic 'I can't believe that happened' dialog. Much later, I had an Image come to mind of me being dressed to the hilt, resplendent with heels and handbag, knocking that weener's chicklets out. Suffice it to say, it provided me with a prolonged and much needed laugh.
I am quite certain I had damaged the offenders pride, I dared him out of his safe space and he responded by not moving. He did start his vehicle and make several feeble passes by us (attempting to convince us he had not Shat his BVD's) laughing at me through the glass of his cab, which indicated to me that I had really struck a blow to his ego. In the male world, to be offered-up by someone you have just called a Faggot, and then not responding to the challenge, is tantamount to being a Faggot yourself. Poor, Poor Dear.
As my friend and I cleared the parking lot and headed into a residential area, the full impact of what I had done hit me like a bolt. What on earth was I thinking!! I have lost a substantial amount of muscle mass and strength. Those guys in that truck could've beat me senseless. Not that my buddy would've let that happen, but just the same, what if those creeps see me alone somewhere? I am just now connecting to my long lost emotions, the ones that allowed me as a child and a young adult, to walk away from situations such as this with my self image intact. I am just beginning to wake up in the morning feeling like my true-self, feeling like I have a purpose, feeling like,... a female. Now, under pressure, I behave like a cornered Rat, just like I was taught. My Dad labored to get me to the point where I would be the aggressor in a confrontation, and although he did not completely erase my feminine instincts, he got me to the point where I would not let a remark like that pass without some sort of retaliation/retribution. I am truly working backwards. I do not believe I still possess the physical prowess to back up my mouth, or, the mouth my Boys utilized when they took over,... When the chemicals that still lurk in my body induce me to live the lie.
Its confusing. When your body tells you to do one thing and your heart tells you something quite different. Being constantly at odds with yourself wreaks havoc on your self image, your self worth, and your self confidence. Some people can tolerate living the lie. They are the lucky ones. For the ones who cannot tolerate it, life is miserable, and usually an empty gesture, a practice in futility. The following rhetoric is meaningful to me, it serves a purpose and thus, I don't mind using it. Is it any wonder why the suicide rate is so high among Transgendered people? Is it wrong, or a sin, for a person to be themselves? To let the person that God has knitted in the womb live as their hearts tell them to live? Are we as humans fit to stand in judgement of God's creation?? Are there not many, many, diverse species on this planet. Who with half an ounce of compassion would force someone with any form of acute discomfort into conforming to a personal, religious or societal so-called norm? Shouldn't flexibility, and tolerance be included in our repertoire of compassion for others? Should a person be persecuted because their heart tells them they are not locked into ACTING in accordance to the genitalia they happen to have?
These question punctuate many articles I have read, written by transgendered and non-transgendered authors. Each is valid, each deserves an answer and, each one I fear, I fumble for a complete understanding. Living the lie, it has a meaning that runs much deeper than the three words that describe the condition. In closing please allow me to pose a final question, would you fabricate a life-style that would ensure that you were not discriminated against? One that would save you from being beaten, harassed and quite possibly murdered? One that would make your life so much easier but at the same time forcing you to deny who you really are? If you are like most humans I know I'd be willing to bet your answer is Yes, but you see, how long can you go through life denying who you are without suffering the consequences? Depression, Anxiety, and at worst, Suicide. That is the dilemma we face, Denial vs. Rejection, not much of a choice.
©1997 Robin Leigh. Not to be used without express written permission!