Oh, New York Times! You mixed-up kid! When you’re not panting all over the latest Dan Brown novel (for shame, Janet Maslin, for shame) you’re punting muddle-headed essays on gender on us.
Let’s take a look-see…hm, they talk about Caster Semenya–hey, join the club! I used the controversy to talk about gender issues too, seeing as gender and appearances were a major part of my life. What’s Peggy Orenstein got to say?
I had my own reasons to be fascinated by Semenya’s story: I related to it. Not directly — I mean, no one has ever called my biological sex into question. No one, that is, except for me. After my breast-cancer diagnosis at age 35, I was told I almost certainly had a genetic mutation that predisposed me to reproductive cancers. The way I could best reduce my risk would be to surgically remove both of my breasts and my ovaries. In other words, to amputate healthy body parts. But not just any parts: the ones associated in the most primal way with reproduction, sexuality, with my sense of myself as female.
I…see.
No, wait, I don’t.
I mean the whole point of the Caster Semenya story is how people question your gender, right? Now, not to diminish Ms. Orenstein’s pain here. I am well aware of how terrible cancer, breast cancer, and the surgeries proposed are, and how not having breasts or a womb or ovaries can make you question your femininity and your sense of yourself as female, as a woman. (I’m rather intimately acquainted with that, actually.)
But like they say over here, quoi?
So I began to fret: without breasts or hormone-producing ovaries, what would the difference be, say, between myself and a pre-op female-to-male transsexual? Other than that my situation was involuntary? That seemed an awfully thin straw on which to base my entire sense of womanhood. What, precisely, made me a girl anyway? Who got to decide? How much did it matter?
Um…the difference would be that you thought of yourself as a woman? Ya think? And waitaminute–involuntary? Are you kidding me?
I guess you can say that starting treatment to transition is voluntary–I mean, you have to decide to do it; nobody makes you. But the being trans part isn’t.
Oh, goodness, ducks, there’s a lot to pick apart in the essay–like when she says biology is destiny! Sorta! But it totes shouldn’t mean anything to women’s rights or stuff (which seems pretty baffling.) She does inch close to something important though:
According to Sheri Berenbaum, a professor of psychology and pediatrics at Penn State who studies children with disorders of sex development, even people with ambiguous biology tend to identify as male or female, though what motivates that decision remains unclear. “People’s hormones matter,” she said, “but something about their rearing matters too. What about it, though, no one really knows.”
There is something mysterious at work, then, that makes us who we are, something internally driven. Maybe it’s about our innate need to categorize the world around us. Maybe it arises from — or gives rise to — languages that don’t allow for neutrality. My guess, however, is that it’s deeper than that, something that transcends objectivity, defies explanation.
Now, that I can agree with. I mean, that’s the story of my life, right? Except that in my case, my sense of gender was at odds with my body. I didn’t choose a middle way or androgyny or something like that (though people do and that’s just as valid as my own gender), but instead was impelled to think of myself as female. Why? And why is it so hard for some people to accept that about me–why do people cling to narrowly construed models of gender? What is it in human culture or the human brain that does that? These are good questions! Ms. Orenstein, maybe you’ll leave me on a good note!
I know that my sex could never really be changed by any surgeon’s scalpel.
Thunk. Boy it’s a good thing my desk is 5,000 miles away.
I mean, I know what she means, and it actually follows the same course as my own thinking: my gender was female before, during, and after my surgery. But sheesh, lady, for TS and intersex people, surgery can be Kind. Of. Important.
And that’s just it. She wants to talk about gender, she even brings in the example of a famous person who is intersex (or presumed to be, thanks to the leaks of evil, evil people), but does she engage with any intersex or transsexual people, who sure as hell know a lot about intrinsic gender identity?
Fuck no.
People get all in an uproar, it seems lately, about the word cis as opposed to trans. (Right now on a message board I still read we’re having our latest battle about it, a three-way fight between cis folks who don’t want the word applied to them, trans folks who want it applied in the neutral and descriptive way, and other trans folks who oppose its use and want to be nice in hope of getting a cookie from the cis folks.) But an article like this shows exactly why we need to have a word like this: because the privilege of not only never wondering about your gender identity, but never needing to know anything about people who have, is astonishing and smothering. So many of the questions Ms. Orenstein ponders have been batted around for years. There’s research, books, testimonials, diatribes, and even blogs.
There were answers. But privilege deafened her to them.