Playing Trans

With everything going ” somewhat pottery class” as Mary Berry would say, it boggles my mind that This Shit is what has me sitting down at the computer to do some ‘splainin’.

In case that link disappears or doesn’t work, here’s what This Shit is all about. Scarlett Johansson is going to be playing a transman in the upcoming movie Rub & Tug. Yup, this is the same SJ who recently got chewed up and spit out by playing Major in Ghost in the Shell when that character should have been played by an Asian actor. Notably, both Rub & Tug and Ghost in the Shell are directed by Rupert Sanders. I don’t care about how good or bad an actor she is or the quality of the films (didn’t see the first and won’t see this one). I’m not a film critic and wiser people than I have had plenty to say about cultural appropriation and whitewashing of stories.

However, as a transman with a history in theatre and connections to stage and film, I’ve had (at last count) five people ask me what I think about casting cis people in trans roles since this news hit.

Let me be clear. In this and any representation of trans, non-binary, and genderqueer folx, casting cis actors is not OK.

SJ is well known for feminine roles and sexy figure. A quick cruise through her IMDB page shows a lot of decolletage, spandex-clad booty, and bee-stung lips.  She’s clearly been typecast and I know that a woman’s career in Hollywood can be roughly delineated by ingenue roles and “are you Judy Dench or Meryl Streep?” so I don’t blame her or her agent for wanting to break out of the femme (fatale) box. That is absolutely as far as I’m willing to go in the “I get it” realm.  There are other ways to break out of the box that aren’t reductive and culturally offensive.

By casting a cisgender woman as a transgender man, you reduce the experience of a trans person to a base comment upon their (assumed) genitals at birth. Because a cis woman (probably) has the same anatomy as a transman does not mean that she has the capacity to inhabit the character of that man. The underlying messages are that we don’t actually care about the lived experiences of trans people or their accurate representation in our media, we just want the (illicit?) thrill of seeing transgression and to think freely about what is under that shirt.

This is not about elevating acting ability to transcend barriers. This is not to disparage anyone’s acting ability. I have no idea if SJ can play the role well. I truly don’t care that Hillary Swank did an ok job in Boys Don’t Cry, and Willaim Hurt was brilliant in Kiss of the Spider Woman. All of that is beside the point.

Look, if there were thousands of trans characters in film and theatre and all the trans actors were finding work regularly, we could be having a different conversation. But that is not the reality. Not only is this casting reductive, a critical question begs to be asked about the messages we are sending out to trans youth by supporting this casting. The fairly obvious message is that we know you’re “just a [insert gender] playing at being [insert opposite binary gender].” When the percentage of completed suicides in the trans and non-binary communities far outstrip our cisgender counterparts, interrogating the harm done and potential for positive role modeling is not simply an academic exercise.

But what about Dr. Frank-n-Furter played by Tim Curry, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, and nearly every stage and film adaptation of a Shakespearean comedy? Drag and being trans are different things, even on stage and in flim.

Some argue that there aren’t trans folx with marquee names to draw the crowds and $ to the theatres and I know that’s true. In fact, I’ve had numerous conversations about this exact topic with my producer, director, and actor friends.

So, dear producer friends, the questions you should be asking are:

1. Why aren’t there trans actors who I can cast in this role?
2. Am I looking hard enough?
3. If this role and narrative is really critical to the driver of this story, should I be telling it without casting appropriately?
4. What can I be doing from my positions of power to encourage trans and non-binary actors, directors, writers, cinematographers, etc. in my field?
5. If I was casting a role calling for a Black woman but couldn’t find the right actor, what would I do? Consider similar options in this context.

I watched a dear friend of mine search very hard for a trans actor who was available to play a transman in a TV series. He and the studio went to great lengths to find the right man for the part and for various reasons beyond his control, the timing and casting didn’t work. We talked about it a lot and he had the salacious option of casting a cisgender woman, the uninspired option of rewriting the character to be cisgender, the dubious but marginally better option of casting a cisgender man, and the difficult decision not to tell that story in that season. Rather than reduce the part to anatomy, he shelved that storyline and is taking on a longer search to find the right person to play the part. It was a difficult choice for him and the studio because they had to consider the draw of the salacious or handy.

Consumer friends, I challenge you to resist giving your money to endeavors which cast cis folx in trans roles. It’s 2018, there are trans and non-binary actors out there with more on the way.

There is no more room to cast cis folx in trans roles so just knock it off.

They Really Don’t Care

All along I have admitted that I come from a world of money and privilege. I am neither proud nor embarrassed by this fact. If I had the monetary wealth that comes with that position, I would be using it to  promote what I view as the higher good and social justice. The power and privilege that comes from being a white, able-bodied, well-educated, dude in America comes with innumerable advantages. I do my best to recognize the power I have and to redistribute that wealth whenever possible.

Having this power isn’t stopping me from freaking the fuck out about losing my healthcare and the few fragile protections we queers have gained in the past 20 years. It isn’t saving me from cold-sweat nightmares about being dragged into the street and shot or screaming with no sound as I am forced to watch my friends tortured to death for creating subversive words (that was last night’s unconscious gift to myself), nor is it saving me from constant worry about where we as a country are going when we allow the demons of our base nature drive the bus.

Growing up in the world I did, I have a paltry gift to offer my friends and loves about the current state of the state. It is a simple message: the 1%ers really don’t care.

We’ll return to the gift part in a paragraph or two but let me explain what I mean here. The 1%ers really, truly don’t give a shit about who is caught doing what. Trump’s taxes, the DAPL, who is in bed with the Russians, who is buying power, the BLATANT lies, deceits, and total moral decrepitude that defines the modern nationalist movement, none of it matters to the people in power and the people who benefit from it. They will sit on their verandae drinking expensive booze and laugh about refugees being turned back at the borders and being forced to return to certain death. They willfully forget their grandparents and great-grandparents who came to the US as refugees, their parents who fought and dies in world wars to defeat nationalist parties. Why? Because nationalism WORKS for them. They literally CANNOT imagine a world where their wealth and privilege won’t both protect them from the “ugliness” and be increased by allowing the liars and the fear-mongers to drive. They cannot be moved to care about the Other.

These are the same people who go to church and temple and feel righteous when they put a big bill in the donation box. “See,” they think, “I’m doing my part. No one can accuse me of being stingy.” They will argue for a flat-rate tax not understanding that 10% of their annual income represents the choice between renewing the lease on the Lexus this year or next when a 10% tax on the rest of us means deciding daily between eating OR medications, between shoes or gas to go to work. Upon reading that sentence, the first thought a 1%er would have is, “well, if you stopped eating junk food, maybe you wouldn’t need those expensive medicines. My taxes pay for buses, take those,” not thinking about the food deserts that millions live in, the desperation to provide calories to their bodies, or the fact that the bus means being late to work and being fired. The 1% still buy into the concept of the welfare queen, and the myths which have been crafted to appease them.

“I’m not a bad person!” they will claim while denying the abundant science supporting global climate change. The truth is irrelevant. The stock in Exxon will bring in enough to pay for the vacation house, and besides, look at all the money that’s gone into the Gulf Coast since the Deep Water Horizon disaster. They want to believe in the beneficence of big business and they want it to be reflected in their immediate lives. When confronted by facts, they will lean on lies (what our current administration would like us to accept as “alternative- facts,” a term which makes my stomach churn). Scientists and artists alike are vilified unless they produce the results that soothe the tiny voice of disquiet which may surface from time to time. They want big government when it serves them and state power when it doesn’t. They are libertarians and pat themselves on the back for pushing individuals to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. And sometimes they’re just selfish and dumb or they are true sociopaths.

To be clear, the theo-political right has embraced one element of science to their great advantage- the biology of fear.  When we are afraid, our amygdala hijacks the rest our brain and creates a flight/fight/freeze response; we have drunk the koolaid of fear. It’s not a direct causal response, but rather a corollary reaction. However, there is a growing body of scientific evidence supporting the social science observation that when humans are afraid, we are comforted by strong demonstrations of aggressive strength. It is hard to think rationally when we are in a constant state of fear and the more frequently we are exposed to fear inducing stimuli, the more hyper-reactive our brains become. In short, when our brains are constantly prodded into fear, we don’t think clearly, we want something strong to take charge, and we become more susceptible to the prodding in the first place. Congratulations evolving brainmeats, you helped us elect nationalist fear-mongers.

Back to my point, since the 1%ers really don’t give a rat’s ass about us, what we have to say, or, ya know, reality, there is a level of freedom we can achieve. Please don’t take what I am about to say as an endorsement of political apathy! If they don’t give a shit about truth, lies, or getting caught doing illegal or immoral things (and really, they don’t), we can stop giving a shit about what they think of us.We can stop trying to show them evidence of lies and deceptions. They know and they DON’T CARE.

Maybe this is just me– I haven’t tested this theory with others– but I have spent so much of my physical, mental, and emotional capital on convincing rich people in power to change their minds, to see issues from my perspective, to listen to science or even tiny bits of reason. For me, all this has done is wear me down to a little nub of despondency and frustration. Although I have often compared this action to rearranging deck-chairs on the Titanic, I wasn’t listening to my own inner guidance. STOP moving the damn deck-chairs.

“But, Whit,” you might say, “they run everything. We can’t just stop,” and I agree, we can’t stop fighting and advocating for our rights, the rights of others, and the right of our planet to be healthy. Continue to be politically vocal and active. But stop spending your energy trying to get them to change their minds or to see the “right” in your beliefs and the “wrong” in theirs. At this point, they either will or they won’t. I’m not arguing that the people who hold power should be allowed to act with impunity. Far from it. There are many humans in the world who derive energy and power from fighting “the good fight” and speaking truth to power. I think of them as political and social justice extroverts. The extroverts will continue to push for impeachment and for equitable redistribution of voting rights. They deserve every once of my support and they have it.

I am a social justice and political action introvert. I don’t use this term as an excuse for apathy and inaction, far from it. I think of this as a way of best harnessing my potential for the most effective good and positive-feedback loop. After many years of operating in push back mode, I have come to the conclusion that fighting the old way is bad for me. What this conclusion has meant for me is to stop trying to share fact-based data with people who are firmly entrenched in the philosophies of fear and hate.

Where I put my energy these days is supporting my QTPOC family, my black and brown, Muslim, queer, poor, or ill friends. I put energy into my immediate community and I reserve my voice for times when it will be best used and for the moments when silence=violence.

I take the time to speak to those who truly are invested in the moral and ethical values our country espouses and claims to represent. This is the hard part of the work- sifting through what feels like so much crazy to identify where my voice will do good. Finding the people with whom a rational conversation is still possible is my goal because once you’ve drunk the koolaid of fear, it’s hard to come back from that place. It has meant walking away from some long-term friendships and family members for my personal self-care and has created some deep grief.

This doesn’t mean that you won’t find me on the front lines of social justice action because you will. If the Trumpban goes into effect again (thank you Hawaii!), I will be at DIA; if a black man is shot by the police, you’ll see me standing with BLM. What you won’t see is me burning my candle at both ends trying to convince the damned that they’re going to hell. I’m not in the business of saving people who are sailing their own wood-paneled yachts across the River Styx.

 

 

the myth of “the surgery”

Hi- Ranty McRanterson here.  I’d like to think that people asking me if I’ve had The Surgery yet are genuinely interested in my physical health.  The truth is that 99.4% of people who ask me and other trans* folk if we’ve had The Surgery are asking out of nothing but prurient interest and ignorance.  I can forgive the ignorance and blame most of it on Maury Povich and the media fascination with trans* junk. The prurient self-interest is what really gets to me.

I get it, trans* people are identified by our general disagreement with our anatomy and so your first thought upon discovering or suspecting our transness is to wonder about what junk we have in which trunk.  Hell, sometimes my first thought upon meeting fellow trans* identified people is to wonder about their anatomy.  On the other hand, I wonder about a lot of peoples’ anatomy but I have the good sense and common decency not to ask, “hey, are those your “real” boobs?” or,  “just how are you hung?” because it’s none of my fucking business.  Even after I’ve been chatting with someone for a few hours or even a few days, the state of their foreskin, nipples and uterus are still none of my business.

I can’t tell you how often the conversation goes like this:

• Them: Hey, you’re hot/interesting/standing in this corner people watching
• Me: Thanks/Hi
• Them: I see you’re trans (in online forums where I ID as trans or IRT spaces where I’m open about being trans, it’s all the same)
• Me: Yup
• Them: I don’t mean to be offensive but I’m just curious, have you had The Surgery yet?
• Me: …
• Me: …

I get this question or some form of it on average every other day. I shit you not. I’d like to say I have some pithy, witty reply that makes me sound like a super trans-activist while at the same time informing them that they made teh dum. I don’t.  I have yet to discover a wise, satisfying reply.

And here I beg for cisgender folks to refrain from offering your wisdom. In general I welcome advice and feedback from all my people but on this one, I need to just Be Heard. Maybe when I’m not as upset as I am at the moment, I’ll be able to hear you but right now back away from the comment button.  Telling them to just fuck off or mind their own business has, in fact, occurred to me and sometimes it happens. Hearing that you personally never would ask is all well and good and I deeply appreciate you in the world. If I’ve helped bring you some understanding, I’m grateful for that.  But this isn’t about you.

Two things happen at once when I hear that question 1) I am reduced to parts and 2) my status as a whole being is put under suspicion. I feel like I *should* elaborate on this point but really, that’s it.  What’s “real” about me and what do I look like between my legs or under my shirt is what I hear. Trust me, what’s between my ears and what has happened in my 42 years on this planet are a whole lot more interesting than my speedo-zone.

No matter the source of curiosity, be it an desire to get in my pants, a desire to get to know me as a human, just your awkward ice breaker (stick with cheesy lines!), your desire to sound worldly and cool, or some other impetus, unless you’re my physician or someone dealing with my physical body in an emergency situation, there’s exactly zero reason for you to ask this question.

If you are diving into some sort of physical relationship with a trans* person, trust me, we know about our own anatomy and for the most part, we’ll tell you what’s what when and if the time is right.  We’re not keeping it a secret just to spring it on you despite what TV and movies would have you think.

I have news for you, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE SURGERY! There is no single, defining surgery that separates gender lines.  There are literally dozens of surgical options for a transperson and not a single one of them makes any of us less or more.  I think that’s it really.  If I have a phalloplasty or a throat-shave I am no more or less human. I am no less deserving of my self-hood than an cisgender individual and yet by asking and particularly if you use the word ‘yet’ you imply that I am somehow less than.

I get that I represent an Other and that I’m interesting in my Otherness.  I have been so ridiculously open about my gender and sexuality most of my friends know more than they probably need or want to know but that should tell you something right there.  My friends-people with whom I have a relationship, people who have invested in me and in whom I have invested- know about my junk and which trunks I keep it all in.  They see me as a whole person and as such have held my hand through painful surgery recovery, have seen me naked when we’ve changed in locker rooms together, have wept with me through breakups and have celebrated with me through triumph.

So if you find yourself wanting to know if someone has had The Surgery, you really need to stop that thought right there.  Even if you’re wondering if they’ve had any surgery, ask yourself if it’s any of your business.  Ask yourself if you’d like to get to know them as a human being and trust that the answer to that question will eventually lead to a much more fulfilling relationship than diving headfirst into the shallow-end of the pool ever will.