Affirmations have always been pretty central to trans culture. The little moments throughout the day that affirm our gender identity instead of contributing to the overwhelming dysphoria so many of us deal with. Whether it's getting a “Thank you, ma’am” from a stranger, or realizing that you have started automatically responding to a chosen name (or better yet, that you no longer hear yourself in a dead name when someone tries to use it), the tiny affirmations of everyday life help us feel more like ourselves.
But I want to talk about some other, less positive affirmations — little moments that cis women have faced from the day they were born, while those of us joining the team later in life were able to avoid them up until our transitions began. In thousands of ways, women receive affirmation after affirmation that they are seen as ‘less than’ men. Women face daily challenges that men simply do not.
I was raised as a boy. What’s more, I was raised in a culture that rewarded the fact that I was a fairly attractive white man in ways I never pieced together during my stay in the ‘male’ identity. Sure, no one ever came over and handed me a giant check, or took away all of my anxieties and made life a paradise for me (which I think is what some people believe is meant when talking about the privileges of being a white man), but I have smoked something like 1000 cigarettes in alleys behind restaurants in the dark without fear. I have been told my mistakes shouldn't define me after being caught doing things I definitely shouldn't have done. Hell, I've been able to walk away from my drink at bars without concern that someone would do something to it in my absence. I was always vaguely aware of these inequalities in gender, but it wasn't until I joined the “shared feminine wound” (as my therapist calls it) that I realized just how deep they go.
I think that much of the unwillingness some women have to share space with trans women stems from a place of frustration at these daily aggressions they've faced at the hands of systemic misogyny their whole lives.
Recently, I participated in an interview about my business. In it, I was described as a “classically trained chef” — a credential I've used my whole career. It’s a term that literally just means I received formal training in classic French cooking techniques. Before my transition, that was a non-issue; whether someone loved or hated me, they wouldn't argue that I wasn't classically trained. Well, the interview dropped, and being a masochist, I decided I would read the comments. Imagine my surprise at the huge thread debating whether or not I should claim this accolade!
I brought it up to my wife, who reminded me that a part of being a woman is to always have your credentials questioned. For the first time in my life, I realized that people didn't just automatically assume that I knew what I was talking about — a ‘male privilege’ I was accustomed to.
Despite multiple awards for my culinary prowess, I am now always going to be faced with the challenge of having to prove my place. The realization of this fact was an absolutely infuriating experience, and not just for myself; I immediately felt rage for all the generations of women whose brilliance had been dismissed simply for the fact that people assumed there was no way a woman could have a better idea. I even found myself feeling ashamed for the times I am sure I have talked over a more qualified woman without even realizing it.
My other, far more frightening example comes from my favorite part of my daily work routine. I live less than a mile from where I work, and I walk every day. It's my little joy at the end of a long, chaotic workday to put on my headphones, listen to some music, and center myself for 20 minutes before I open the door into the chaos that is a house with five children. Walking to and from work has never been an issue.
However, while I'm still young in my transition, my overall appearance is starting to lean more towards woman than man. Just the other day, I was on my usual walk, and a car pulled up beside me with the man inside asking if I wanted a ride. Side note: I have done no voice training. I don't actually plan on changing my voice in any way. As a chef and parent, a large, booming ‘dad voice’ can be quite handy. I bring this up because the moment I responded that I was not going to get in his car, the driver’s demeanor changed. This man who had tried to offer a woman a ride responded to hearing the baritone in my voice by following me for two blocks, slowly driving beside me, all the while shouting slurs and threats at me.
I was absolutely shaken. While my wife's first purchase for me after publicly coming out was a bottle of pepper spray to keep on me, at the time, it had seemed like such a silly concern. The pepper spray was just another thing hidden somewhere in the mess at the bottom of my purse, not easily reachable. I had not been coached my whole life (like my wife and other women had) to text a friend the license plate and description of suspicious vehicles, or have protection readily available.
So much gatekeeping of femininity starts here. I'll never forget the time a TERF (Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist) shouted at me: “How dare you say you are a woman! You’ve never had to deal with the things I've always had to deal with!” While this is not a defensible argument against someone's gender identity, it was actually a fair assessment of the general inequities humans have faced participating in the gender binary.
The truth is that I was raised and socialized as a boy. I know all the allies love to tell me, “You've always been a woman,” but while the sentiment is absolutely appreciated (and technically true), I can’t discount the fact that I was participating in society as a man for 35 years. Then, one day when I came out, I asked the world to treat me as a woman, and I was immediately dropped into the deep end on the other side of the gender pool, with all the inequalities that come with my new identity, and none of the training. Imagine: on my very first day of being a girl, I was already a middle-aged woman with five kids. It's been quite the learning experience.
But all the rhetoric trying to vilify trans women — painting us as mentally ill men in dresses, or athletes trying to take all the gold medals and scholarships from deserving women — is just an attempt by the patriarchy to keep us divided. Anyone that’s saying, “We're sorry, we tried to treat women equally, but these transgender people have ruined it for you!” is just using us as an excuse to keep the patriarchy intact. And honestly, to try to keep us from the truth.
The emphasis on dividing trans women and cis women, trying to keep us from participating in women's spaces, exists out of a fear. Not the fear that bigots are trying to cram down your throats — that we are transitioning in order to ‘steal’ femininity from cis women — but the fear that we have a lot to offer the fight for equality. We trans women have seen the world through both sides of the gender spectrum. We have benefited from a male dominated society, and have seen (and sometimes held) those intrinsic beliefs of male superiority first-hand. We see the truths behind the lies that women are inherently lesser than men. We carry with us the proof that a very large number of men, some who aren’t even aware of it, believe that the power in having a penis is real, and somehow puts them in a better place to make decisions for those without.
I love my place in the world. The fears and the joys that make up the affirmation of my womanhood are everything. While some days I might miss the ease of navigating the world as a man, I am so grateful for the women who've accepted me, and who hold space for me to debrief from my life experiences without questioning my strength… something that used to be impossible without fear of having my ‘man card’ revoked.
I have not always lived my life as a woman, but I am a woman now. I share the fears that come with that identity, and I am mad as hell that they exist. I promise there isn't a gold medal that I'm in it for. I only want to embrace our sisterhood in the fight against the systemic beliefs that exist to hold us all down.
Cara Nokes is a local business owner, a parent of five, and a trans woman.
