However, there are different ways to reblog, and some are better than others. Reblogging has a certain etiquette all its own which can vary depending on what’s being reblogged and who wrote the original post.

I saw a number of different types of reblogging after I posted “14 Reasons Why It’s Not Okay to Out Someone as Trans.”  As I watched my post pop up on other blogs and sites, I found myself cringing at times when reblogging etiquette went by the wayside.  (And I have to say that mostly came from a number of the reblogs on Tumblr. More on that below.)

With that in mind, going forward (or even going backward to revise a previously reblogged post), I would ask anyone who reblogs from American Trans Man to please follow these simple guidelines…

Reblogging guidelines for American Trans Man posts:

1.  Please leave a comment to let readers (and me) know that a certain post will be reblogged and where it will appear.  I am interested in checking out other blogs and readers of my original post might be curious about those other blogs as well.

2.  Please give me credit up front.  What I have seen (and sorry to say, most of the serial reblogs on Tumblr are like this) is that the last person who reblogged the post gets the credit for it.  It becomes a string of reblogs that go back to former reblogs, all of which are attributed to the first reblogger rather than to the original author (who would be me).  When this happens, it looks like plagiarism. Please give credit where credit is due.  And putting a source link at the bottom of the reblogged post doesn’t do the trick.  Please write at the top of the reblogged post something along the lines of “Reblogged from AmericanTransMan” with a link back to the original post on my blog.

3.  Please don’t reblog the entire post.  I suspect that most bloggers like to see traffic come to their site. Well, I’m no different. Why would readers come to my blog and read the post if they can read the entire thing reblogged somewhere else?  Please only reblog the first couple of paragraphs and then provide a link back to my original post.

For bloggers on Word Press, there is already a nice reblogging function that does all of the things mentioned above. When a Word Press writer reblogs someone else’s post, the original author gets a “pingback” showing that a link back to their blog has been made elsewhere, the original author/blog gets credit and only the first bit of the post is reblogged with a link leading back to the original.

Here are some examples of reblogs of the “14 Reasons” post so you can see what a well-reblogged post looks like. Just click on the names to link back to the blogs:
transbeautiful, theadventuresoftransman and transfabulous as examples of Word Press bloggers using the reblog function
Gender Reality – variation on a theme, making the reblog a part of a new post
harm reduction coalition – a Tumblr blog where the author made an interesting reblog by giving the ‘titles’ of the 14 reasons with links back to the original, plus credit at the top and a nice comment at the bottom (thanks!)

In addition to reblogging, some folks also provide links back to the original post, like this one for “Related Info” from Introduction to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Studies 001 at the University of California Riverside.  The link is at the bottom of the page and it’s pretty cool to see it there for a college course, but I wish they had put a description line under link (like they did with most of the others) listing American Trans Man as the source.

So whats the bottom line? (I realize I say that sometimes at the end of posts, so I’ll say it here too.)  Okay, the bottom line:

If I’ve spent hours or days or even weeks or months writing a blog post, I don’t think it’s asking too much for due credit and traffic coming to my blog because of it.  So if anyone would like to reblog a post from American Trans Man, please go ahead with my blessing, as long as the guidelines given above are followed, and I will do the same when reblogging others’ posts.

Thank you.

–ATM

THE GOOD
Tom Gabel of Against Me! Comes Out As Transgender
(You go, woman!)

THE BAD
North Carolina’s Ban on Same-Sex Marriage Sparks Cheers, Jeers
(Writing discrimination into your state constitution?)

THE BEAUTIFUL
Obama Announces He Supports Same-Sex Marriage
(Thanks for joining us, Mr. President.)

Folks, I had no idea that this topic and post would hit such a nerve.  It was crazy!  People were coming to the site from all over the world, and some were reblogging the post and then reblogging the reblogging.

Usually when I make a new post, I get a couple hundred hits on this blog, but on April 19 alone, the blog had 3 hits shy of 3000!  And the next day was more of the same!

I thought I would share with you (now that I’m back from my trip) the grand totals regarding the “14 Reasons” post.

In the past 10 days there have been:
11,295 hits on the American Trans Man blog
8725 views of the “14 Reasons” post + 25 syndications
112 responses in the comments section (granted, many of them mine)

These numbers don’t even count the views and comments of all the re-posts on other blogs.

And so thanks to all of you who contributed to this activity and great discussion!

-ATM

He quickly corrected himself and moved on with whatever he had been saying, but for me, the damage had been done.

That one little pronoun ripped away my confidence and left me stunned and confused. Although it still happens once in a while, being seen as female has been a rare occurrence for me over the past six months, so I asked myself why this person whom I had just met would confuse me with a woman?  Was it obvious that I was trans?  Was I kidding myself, walking around in the world thinking that I no longer appeared female to most people?

Unsure as to whether the guy had read me as female/trans all on his own or whether someone had told him, I took my friend aside and asked him.  He seemed genuinely confused as to why I would have an issue with his disclosure of my trans status when he has been one of my most thoughtful, supportive friends and he was trying to be helpful.

This situation has me thinking that just because a person might be a relative, friend or ally of the trans community, or even a trans person themselves, that doesn’t mean that they know and understand the possible consequences that could result from disclosing someone’s trans status, so I am offering some information here that I hope will be helpful regarding this topic.

I thought I would start with a page from The Gender Booklet at thegenderbook.com (which I actually found at the transbeautiful blog) because it gives a handy summation of issues to consider when being an ally (or even friend or relative) of people in the trans community.

A number of blog posts could be written about the statements on this simple yet informative document page (and probably already have been by others), but today we’ll just focus on, “Please don’t out me as trans without my permission.”

In listing the reasons behind this statement, I am presenting them in no particular order or priority and I am writing them as though directed toward readers who might not understand why it’s problematic to out people as trans.

When I refer to trans folks in this post, I basically stay within the man/woman binary, but there are trans people who do not identify within the gender binary.  I think that what I have written here would, in principal, still apply, with the exception of some of the references I make to people identifying as men or women.

I should also mention that pretty much everything you’ll read here is my opinion and I do not speak for all trans people.  Your mileage may vary.

1.  Safety first
In April of 2010, Colle Carpenter, a 27-year-old trans man, was physically assaulted in a men’s room at Cal State University Long Beach, the attacker using a knife to carve the word “it” into his chest.  Two months later, a man attacked trans man Lance Reyna in a Houston Community College men’s room, putting a knife to his throat, then beating and robbing him and giving him a concussion by kicking him in the head.  In April of 2011, Chrissy Lee Polis, a 22-year-old transgender woman, was brutally attacked by two women in a Baltimore-suburb McDonald’s while employees stood by and watched, one of them filming a video of the assault that went viral after being posted on-line.  The attackers beat Chrissy so severely, she went into an epileptic seizure on the floor of the restaurant.

I provide these examples here to highlight the threat of violence that trans people face simply for being themselves, and to illustrate that outing someone as trans compromises their safety. Granted, these are high-profile incidents, but don’t think that these are isolated cases.  Aggressions against trans people occur at various levels of severity on a fairly regular basis.  I know a number of trans men and women who have been harassed and/or physically assaulted by people they had come out to or by people, including complete strangers, who had somehow learned of their trans status.  Trust me on this one; you cannot predict how anyone will react to this information, so it’s best not to disclose it.

2.  It’s private, medical information
Steps that a trans person may take to transition are recognized by the American Medical Association, other health-care organizations, the U.S. Tax Court and by many trans people as medical treatments for the misalignment of their physical sex and gender identity.  Information about a trans person’s status and/or transition should therefore be held in confidence just like any other person’s private medical issues and treatments and should not be disclosed.

3.  Not all trans people are activists and those who are might not want to be all the time
Some trans people don’t mind being in the public eye.  Trans people involved in activism may be fully and publicly out as trans, such as community activists and educators Matt Kailey, Jamison Green,  Kate Bornstein or Donna Rose.  However, not all trans folks want to be involved in activism – they just want to live their lives with a level  of anonymity that’s no different from that of non-trans people – and those who are involved as activists might not wish to wear that hat all the time.  Maybe in the corner of their world where you happen to be, a trans activist might want to be incognito. It’s best to leave it up to the trans person as to when and where they care to disclose their trans status, if they care to do so at all.

4.  Match making or un-making
Let’s say that a non-trans person you know has met your trans friend/relative, finds them attractive and would like to get to know them better.  Your first knee-jerk reaction might be to inform the individual about the trans status of your friend/relative, but please consider why you might be having that reaction.

Perhaps you think that the trans person’s body might not be what the other person expects, but unless you have seen the trans person naked, you do not know what their body looks like, and even if you have, how can you know with certainty that the potential suitor won’t find their body appealing?

Or maybe you decide that you will out your trans friend/relative so you can spare them the negative reaction that you’re sure they’ll receive once they disclose their trans status to the interested party.  That’s your own opinion, however.  In other words, what you might consider to be a deal breaker (i.e. someone’s trans status) might not be an issue for another person.  People are rejected in the dating scene for all sorts of reasons and these two potential love birds might not ever make it past the first date for reasons that have nothing to do with the trans status of one of them.

Ultimately, whether a trans person and a non-trans person are a match for each other should be left for them to discover.  Don’t be a match un-maker by disclosing someone’s trans status.

5.  Admirers, chasers and other people attracted to trans folks
In point number 4 above, I talk about people who might become attracted to a trans person they have just met but are unaware of their trans status.  For the issue I discuss here, I refer to certain people, non-trans men and women, who have a significant attraction to trans people in general.  Sometimes these individuals can be easily spotted vying for the attention of (or maybe even harassing or groping) trans people at transgender conferences or at public community functions, and some of them post ads on Craigslist looking for sexual hook ups and/or dates with trans men and women.

These particular folks might be classified as “chasers” or “admirers.”  While some of them objectify, sexualize and fetishize trans people, some do not.  Personally, I sometimes find it hard to tell the difference.  (Matt Kailey has written a couple of great posts about people with trans attractions and the fine line between preference versus fetish, where trans people can be either sexualized or considered sexy.)

And so if someone tells you that they are attracted to trans people and/or would like to meet a trans person for dating and/or sex, the first response should not be to tell them about any trans people whom you might know personally unless you already know how your trans friends feel about this subject.  Although some trans folks are okay with (or even prefer) dating non-trans people with trans attractions, some trans people don’t want anything to do with them, whether those with trans attractions happen to be admirers/chasers or not.  Unless you know for sure, it’s best to first ask the trans person(s) in your life whether they would be interested in being introduced to such a person.

6. When trans people don’t look male or female “enough” (to you)
If you know a transitioning trans person, the sex they were assigned at birth might be imprinted in your mind, especially if you’ve known them since an early point in their process or before they started transitioning.  Consequently, you might not have really noticed their slow physical transformation and/or you might think that despite their physical changes, they don’t really look like their true gender.  And so when you introduce the trans person to others, you might think that you have to out them as trans as a way to provide an explanation for their androgynous or gender-variant appearance.  You might think that outing them would be helpful, so people don’t get confused.

However, you’re making an assumption that everyone else sees the trans person the same way that you do and you might be wrong.  You might actually create confusion if  you out the trans person to people who already see the trans person as their true self.

And even if someone is confused about a trans person’s gender, so what?  A person’s confusion should not supersede a trans person’s privacy.  Personally, I can’t imagine an individual suffering harm from their confusion over the appearance of someone else, but outing a trans person can be harmful to them, so let the confused person muddle through. More than likely they’ll manage just fine.

7.  Because being trans is not necessarily who we are
Many trans people simply see themselves as men and women.  Being trans is not who they are – being a man or a woman is who they are.  The trans piece is a medical condition and not a definition of them as a person, so they shouldn’t be identified by it.

8.  Education, enlightenment, diversity training and the “poster child excuse”
Very early in my process a (former) friend of mine outed me to her college-aged children without my permission and then tried to justify it by making me the poster boy for her kids’ diversity training.  Since then, I have been surprised at the number of people who have wanted to do the same after I have come out to them (but at least they asked me first).

So if you have an urge to teach someone about diversity and you want to enlighten and educate them in order to help them be a better citizen and a more accepting human being, and to do it, you are going to tell them all about the trans person you know, stifle that thought.  Unless you have asked the trans person involved whether they would mind being the subject of someone’s education on humanity, it would be best to leave the trans person out of the lesson.

9.  It doesn’t matter that a trans person is out to some people
A trans person you know might seem to be out to a lot of people, and that might lead you to presume that they don’t mind being out as trans, and so that might let you assume that it would be okay to disclose their trans status to someone else, but as with other assumptions, it’s best not to make this one because you might be wrong.

10.  Outing a trans person to another trans person
On the surface, it might seem okay to tell one trans person about another trans person you know, but that would be another assumption that might be incorrect.  Each trans person should be asked whether they wish to be a subject of discussion between you and another trans person or whether they want to be introduced to the other as trans.  Believe it or not, some trans folks don’t even want other trans folks to know that they’re trans.

11.  Outing a trans person sets them up for discrimination
I don’t think that I have to convince anyone reading this blog about the existence of rampant discrimination against trans people in jobs, housing, education, health care, social services, etc.  It stands to reason, then, that outing a trans person can set them up for discrimination.  I can think of several trans men I know who lost their jobs when their trans status was revealed to the wrong people.  Once you release that information, you lose control of it and you can’t track where it goes, which might be to someone who can discriminate against the outed trans person.  Keeping their personal information safe and discreet helps the trans people you know avoid becoming the victims of discrimination.

12.  Outing a trans person can erase who they are in the eyes of others
If you disclose a trans person’s status, you can render them invisible.  It’s like magic.  One minute, the trans person is no different than any other man or woman, then they’re outed and poof, in the minds of some people, they’re immediately transformed into the gender they were assigned as birth, or they may be seen as a non-person or a fake person or someone who’s trying to fool everyone around them.  The trans person’s true self disappears and they become, in the eyes of others, someone who doesn’t even really exist.  Speaking from experience, that feels like crap.  Please don’t put people in that position by outing them as trans.

13.  Disclosing the birth names of trans people
This point is a bit different from the others because it’s about outing one thing about a trans person, but it fits into the topic of disclosure. I have decided to add it here because a number of non-trans people over the past few years have nonchalantly disclosed to me the birth names of other trans people that they know.

What they likely did not realize was that some trans people fiercely guard the name they were given at birth and would consider its disclosure to be embarrassing, hurtful and/or offensive.  For some trans folks, their birth name represents a person who they are not and a period of their life they would like to leave behind them.

All that aside, what is the point of revealing a trans person’s birth name anyway?  A trans person’s real name is the one they have chosen that matches their gender and true self and that’s the only name that people need to know.

Therefore, unless a trans person has specifically and directly asked you to please disperse their birth name about with wild abandon, the polite and respectful thing to do would be to keep it to yourself if you happen to know it.

14.  Whose business is it anyway?
Ultimately, the bottom line is that a person’s trans status is their personal information, their history, their story, their life, and it’s not anyone else’s place to disclose it.

The only instances I can think of when it would be okay to out someone as trans would be if the trans person specifically requested it, say, for example, during their coming out process and they asked a trusted friend or relative to help inform people, or if they were involved in some sort of medical emergency and couldn’t speak for themselves, and for the latter I’d still be hesitant.

And with that, we come to the end of 14 reasons why outing a trans person is not okay.  I hope that this little public service announcement has helped to shed some light on this topic for readers who previously might not have realized these issues.  Some readers might disagree with some of my points or might have points of their own to add. I invite everyone to join the discussion.

–ATM

On the evening of April 22, I was in a small church in one of the Boston’s neighborhoods, preparing to observe Good Friday.

This wasn’t a church I regularly attend, but sometimes I go when it’s been a while since I have seen a particular married couple and their 18-month old toddler — they are friends of mine. On Good Friday evening, I knew that at least Mother and Son would be at the church for services, and so I went.

I have watched the baby grow since he was born, have played with him and photographed him, chased him until he has shrieked and giggled, and have even helped with a bedtime book reading. (Dad read the book while I held it up before the three of them, turning the pages.)

Although I enjoy a fulfilling friendship with the parents, I truly appreciate the opportunity to be in this boy’s life. We have had some good fun together, he and I, and I was looking forward to seeing the little guy again because it had been some weeks since the last time.

And so at that point on Good Friday evening, only the priest and I were there; he was preparing for the prayer service that would soon begin. I stood in the center of the chancel looking out at the dark, empty pews, lost in quiet thought, when the front doors to the church opened and in they walked, Mother holding the Boy. She set him down as they entered, and they stood side-by-side at the back of the church.

I could see the Boy looking at me, his little brow furrowed as he tried to make out who I was. “It’s Andy,” his mother said, looking down at him. I smiled and waved at the sound of my name, and the expression on his face changed from one of puzzlement to one of sure realization. He had recognized me. His mother said, “Do you want to go say hi?”

And with that, the Boy started running.

Throughout my adult life, I have often pondered the thought of having children. Also, throughout most of my adult life, I thought I was a woman. In fact, I worked really hard at trying to live as a woman (although, as you might expect, I wasn’t particularly good at it).

And so, when I considered children, I did it in a way that I thought I should as a woman.

I assumed that I should have some sort of motherly yearnings or instincts, some drive to have a baby of my own. That’s what I saw and heard from the women around me, those in my family and group of friends, or even those on TV or in the movies.

But within me, those feelings were absent.

It’s not that I couldn’t imagine myself with a child — it’s that I couldn’t imagine myself bearing a child. Something was different, a disconnect, and I knew it somehow but couldn’t sort it out or explain it to myself.

I made sense of it by telling myself that I must be one of those types of women that just wasn’t meant to have children. I told myself that I was fortunate to have figured this out before I had children and turned out to be a bad parent.

But then again, I couldn’t actually say with certainty that I didn’t want to have children at all, and I couldn’t come up with a reason why I would be a particularly bad parent.

These thoughts only served to confuse me.

Then, when menopause came knocking in my early 40s, the confusion grew. Where was the emotional turmoil that many women suffer through at this time? Why was I not so concerned with this? Why did I feel so detached from something that seemed to cause such distress in so many women?

Intellectually, I knew what was happening. I understood the physiology. But when it came to my emotions, I felt… nothing.

I distinctly remember the day I received the lab results from the doctor that confirmed that I was menopausal. I had a little conversation with myself.

“You are 43 years old and you are going through menopause.”

“Right.”

“Fairly soon, your ovaries will be devoid of fertile eggs and functional follicles.”

“Correct.“

“You will likely never have children of your own.”

“Probably not.”

“How do you feel about that?”

…

“Do you wish you had had a baby?”

…

“Do you want children?”

…

I couldn’t answer the questions. I could only add confusion on top of confusion.

Later, I came out to myself, and for over three years now I have known that I am, in fact, not a woman. I am, instead, a female-bodied transgender man. And over the past three-plus years, when I have considered again the question as to whether I want children, I still have not been able to truly find an answer. I reply to myself,

“I can’t have children.”
“I’m too old.”
“It’s too late to even think about children.”
“What does it matter now?”
“Just move on…”

It didn’t take long before the occasions when I considered this question became farther and father apart, to the point that they became few and far between.

And so back to Good Friday evening.

I was standing on the chancel of a small church in Boston while an 18-month-old toddler, his chubby little legs churning, was running toward me up the center aisle.

For a toddler, he was probably burning up the track, his little shoes making a rhythmic and somewhat muffled “thmp, thmp, thmp” as he ran. But coming from the back of the church, even as small as it was, the Boy’s run up the aisle took a little while, long enough for me to go to the front of the chancel and sit on its steps to await his arrival.

As I sat there, I was trying to guess what he might do before he reached me. Would he come part way and then turn around to head back to his mother? Would he lose interest and simply stop dead in his tracks part way up the aisle? Would he see something that distracted him and cause him to change course? I figured that coming all that way in such a straight trajectory would require more focus and concentration than an 18-month-old could muster.

But the Boy never wavered.

In fact, he didn’t even slow down. He ran straight to me, right into my waiting and open arms. I wrapped them gently around him, brought my face against his soft, ruddy cheek and told him, “I’m glad to see you too.”

At that moment, something inside me cracked.

It was all I could do to hold myself together. The pure, unconditional love of this child pierced a place in me that had been locked up most of my life.

And then… Oh, the joy and the pain.

The joy from knowing that this child could love me — me! — when I have such trouble even loving myself.

And the pain from knowing that I would never receive such love from a child of my own. I was finally able to make the separation between giving birth to a child, which I don’t know that I ever could have done, and being a parent, a father. I felt the pain because I would never have this, although I would choose it if I could.

I finally had the answer to my question, and it came, in a way, from a child.

That little boy gave me a gift on Good Friday, something that he cannot even comprehend. I will have to wait some years before I can explain it to him.

Little G., you can’t understand this right now, but I thank you. (And I love you, too.)

–ATM

An American trans man.

And let’s say that he was going to be in London later this month on business.

And he was going to have free time the evening of Wednesday, April 25th and all day Saturday, April 28th.

By any chance, would there be a community event or FTM/trans support group meeting that he might be able to attend that the readers of this blog could let him know about?

If so, please leave a comment here or hit me up by email at americantransman at gmail-dot-com.  (Not knowing what kind of spam will be directed to my email account if I type out the full address, I’ve given my email address in pieces.)

Thank you.

–ATM

Wow, who-da thunk it?  Ninety posts!  I don’t know about you, but I am surprised by this number.  I guess I didn’t realize that I had so much to say.

In honor of this milestone (while we’re on our way to 100 posts), I thought I would give readers a behind-the-scenes look at the ATM blog and add a special shout out to our international readers (i.e. those who are outside of the U.S.) …

 Here is what I see today when I log into the ATM blog on WordPress:

This isn’t the entire dashboard – there’s more below what you see here – but it won’t fit on an entire screen.  Still, you can see a number of noteworthy items on this view.

You can see that there have been almost 54,000 views on ATM, which is a pretty cool number.  You can see the number of views by day for the past month – that’s the graph at the top.  You can see the blog posts that received the most views today.

And, you can see a nifty new feature of the WordPress dashboard called the “Views by Country” panel.  I was really blown away when this new panel popped up on the dashboard not too long ago.

The number of ATM viewers and their locations by country are listed on the left side of the panel and on the right side is a map of the world highlighting the countries that are listed.  For me, this is very cool.

So far today, we can see that there have been 42 views of ATM by people in France.  All I have to say about that is, “BONJOUR LES FRANÇAIS!”

Ever since the View by Country panel has popped up on the dashboard, I have been curious about the people who visit this blog from different parts of the world and so I invite all readers to post comments.

I’d be very interested to know a little something about you — are you trans or non-trans, how did you find this blog, why are you visiting, are you looking for science stuff or something else, have you been here before or is this your first visit, etc. ?

And finally, to the all of the readers of American Trans Man, no matter where you are from, I thank you for your interest in this blog!!!

–ATM

In a power-house of a match-up that was reminiscent of their three playoff series against the Lakers in the 1980s, the Celtics had a chance to win their 17th NBA championship trophy that night in June, 2008.

And I had tickets.

I and a friend had decided to take a chance that the Celtics would win the championship in Game 6. Splurging on an eBay purchase of a pair of tickets, we met a couple of hours before the game at the Haymarket T stop, he arriving on his bicycle and I having taken the train.  It was a clear, cool, beautiful evening and we enjoyed the weather as we strolled over to the North End for dinner.

Little did I know that we were walking into one of the greatest photo ops I’d ever experienced.

We spied an oyster bar and decided to go in.  We had to navigate around a man and woman who were nuzzling each other as they waited for a table at the top of the few stairs we had to mount to enter.  As we turned past them, we found ourselves in a very small restaurant.  Tiny, in fact.

Basically, we were in a box – a noisy box.  To the left were two short rows of tables, one on either side of the room.  They were occupied by people talking, laughing, eating and drinking. A waiter was trying to take orders above the din.  Straight ahead was a small bar where a guy was making drinks.  To our right, under the large window overlooking the street, was a bank of crushed ice where a woman was shucking the oysters that were embedded within.  Between us and her was the bar, and on the bar…

What the…?

On the bar…

To this day, I still can’t believe it.

On the bar, sat two large, silvery-golden, brilliantly shiny, World Series trophies.

What’s wrong with this picture?

I stood for a few seconds getting my head around what I was seeing.  I suspect that I might have been slack-jawed in that moment.

I turned to my friend and asked, gesturing toward the bar, “Are those the 2004 and 2007 Red Sox World Series trophies?”

He shrugged.

He is from Europe, and not only does he not understand baseball, he doesn’t even think that it’s a “true sport. ” I knew this previously but had momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, why am I bothering to ask you?” I muttered.  He shrugged again.

I turned to the couple behind us who were still making out in the corner at the top of the stairs.  “Hey,” I said, gesturing with my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the bar. “Are those the Red Sox World Series trophies?”

The guy cocked his head to see around his girlfriend who hadn’t even broken stride as she sucked his earlobe.

“Uh,” he replied, as though he had only just now noticed the trophies, “I’m not sure.”

Obviously, he was distracted.

I turned back to the scene in front of me.  There were people sitting at the tables. There were a couple of waiters. There was a bartender.  There was a woman shucking oysters.  There were people waiting for a table.  There was even a guy in a white polo shirt nonchalantly leaning on the bar on the other side of the trophies.

This noisy little restaurant was full of people and not one of them was paying any attention to the two World Series trophies that were sitting on the bar!

I was dumbfounded.

And what were these trophies doing there anyway? It didn’t make any sense!

I had tried to see the 2004 trophy when it toured Massachusetts four years prior and the lines were so long that I gave up.  But here it was, along with its 2007 brother, both of them sitting on the bar in a little oyster shack in Boston’s North End and not one single person there seemed to even care.

“This is crazy,” I thought.  “Are they even real?”

I would later learn a bit about these trophies.

According to Wikipedia, the most accurate source of information in the world:

The Commissioner’s Trophy is presented each year by the Commissioner of Baseball to the Major League Baseball team that wins the World Series. Recent trophy designs contain flags representing each team in North America’s top two leagues, the National League and the American League. The two participating teams in that year’s World Series were previously represented by two press pins set on the base of the trophy. It is the only championship trophy of the four major sports in the United States that is not named after a particular person (contrasting with the National Hockey League’s Stanley Cup, the National Football League’s Vince Lombardi Trophy, and the National Basketball Association’s Larry O’Brien Trophy).

Although it did not receive its current name until 1985, the trophy was first awarded in 1967, when the St. Louis Cardinals defeated the Boston Red Sox. A new Commissioner’s Trophy is created each year, much like the Lombardi Trophy and the O’Brien Trophy; in contrast, the Stanley Cup is passed from champion to champion. Since its inception, the only year that the Commissioner’s Trophy has not been awarded was 1994, when the players’ strike ended the season on August 11, resulting in the cancellation of the entire post-season…

…The current trophy design, which was redesigned in 1999 for the 2000 World Series and made by Tiffany & Co., is worth approximately $15,000. The original trophy was designed by Lawrence Voegele, of Owatonna, Minnesota. The trophy is 24 inches (61 cm) tall, excluding the base, and has a diameter of 11 inches (28 cm). It weighs approximately 30 pounds (14 kg) and is made of sterling silver. The trophy features 30 gold-plated flags, one for each of the Major League teams, which rise above a silver baseball covered with latitude and longitude lines that symbolize the world. The baseball also contains 24-karat vermeil baseball stitches. The base contains an inscription of the signature of the commissioner, as well as the words “Presented by the Commissioner of Baseball”. The new design was presented for the first time at the conclusion of the 2000 World Series, won by the Yankees.

I stepped forward and peered intently at the trophies. The inscriptions. The golden flags.  2004.  2007. They seemed authentic enough, but the fact that they were sitting in this seemingly random oyster bar made me think that perhaps they were just…  I dunno…  baseball kitsch?

I noticed that the guy in the white polo shirt who had been leaning on the bar staring out the front window was now leaning with his left elbow on the bar so that he faced the trophies.  He appeared to be bored.  How could a guy be bored when he’s standing next to two Red Sox World Series trophies?

I glanced up from my close scrutiny, extended a forefinger toward one of the trophies and asked him, “Do you know if these are real?”

He stood up straight.

“DO NOT TOUCH THE TROPHIES!” he boomed.

I quickly drew back.  It was then that I noticed the small Red Sox insignia that was embroidered on the upper left front of his white polo shirt.

“Okayyyyy, so they are real,” I said.

I glanced at my friend to see whether he was appreciating the situation.  He was reading emails on his Blackberry and wasn’t even paying attention to the trophies or my interaction with the man who appeared to be a Red Sox employee.

“What are these doing here?” I asked the man as he resumed his relaxed posture against the bar.

I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it had something to do with businesses having the opportunity to rent or win the trophies for a day to display, advertise and bring in clientele.  I don’t know if the full tables had anything to do with the trophies, but the place was certainly packed with people.

I asked, “Can I take pictures?”  “Sure,” he replied.  “Thanks!”I responded.

I looked at my friend who now had his back to me, surveying the room for a table.  I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned, I said emphatically, “Dude, please tell me you have your camera with you.”

“You want to take a picture?  Of what?”

“Of the trophies!!” I replied, exasperated.  He shrugged, as though he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to photograph these objects.

I asked again. “Well? Do you have your camera?”  I was worried that if he didn’t, I wouldn’t have a record of this moment.  Who would believe this story without proof?

He dug his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a little silver point-and-shoot digital camera.  I was relieved.

There wasn’t much space to maneuver.  I sort of hunkered down a little in front of the bar, drawing as close to the trophies as I could without touching them while my friend backed up as far as he could and pointed his camera.

“Can you see me and both trophies?” I asked.  “Sort of,” he replied.

I figured that asking the Red Sox guy if we could push the trophies closer together would not receive a positive response.

My friend snapped a couple of photos and I borrowed his camera and shot a couple more.  He then suggested that we go eat somewhere else because we weren’t going to be seated for a while there and I agreed.

On the way out, as we passed the fused couple at the top of the stairs, the guy finally took notice of what was going on and he unhooked his girlfriend from his earlobe and asked, “Hey, are those trophies real?”

(Sigh.)

We ended up having dinner at an Italian restaurant and then went to the game to watch the Celtics win the NBA championship with a blow-out of 131-92 over the Lakers.  It was a fantastic evening of Boston sports.

And so what is my point in telling you this?

It’s about this snapshot, this photograph of a “Kodak moment” –  I can’t stand to look at it.  And I can’t stand to show it to anyone.  Letting people see this image (without the baseball in place of my head, I mean) would be embarrassing.  I was living as a woman then and that isn’t me in that picture.

It’s not just this photograph. It’s all of them. When I see any pre-transition photograph of myself that was taken sometime throughout my life, I wince.

A few weeks ago, there was a going-away party at work for someone who was leaving and a coworker had put together a slide show for him that he played on the big screen in the front of the room. Projected to music was a series of images of current and past employees that this man had worked with over the years.

There were about 50 people in the room and they were ooh-ing and ah-ing, laughing and commenting about the different people whose images flashed up on the screen, but I was standing there cringing.  I knew what was coming — photographs of me pre-transition — and I was dreading it.

Sure enough, up popped the first one and the lightheartedness, laughter and cheery banter went dead silent.  Think crickets chirping.

I stared at the floor, wanting to see neither the image of that-former-person-who-wasn’t-me nor the faces of the coworkers standing around me.  I wondered if they wondered what the proper reaction should be. It was awkward and horrible and that moment played out a couple more times before the slide show finally and mercifully ended.

I ask myself whether I will ever get to a point where I can accept these old photographs for what they are — records of a part of my life that I wish hadn’t transpired in the way that it did, but records of my life nonetheless.

Will I some day be able to sit down with a friend or significant other and pull out my old photo albums and digital image files with confidence and acceptance?  Other trans people, like Matt Kailey for instance, seem to be comfortable with their old photographs.

I don’t know if I’ll get to that point, but I hope so.  At the moment, however, these are Kodak moments that I keep tucked away.

–ATM

I recently discovered the shop while doing some exploring during a 10-day business trip that kept me in Europe over a weekend.

In perusing the racks and stacks of magazines, comic books and newspapers from not quite all over the world, the color photograph on the cover of one of them caught my eye.  The image was of twin girls of about six years of age, wearing dark blue velvet dresses as though ready to go to church, both looking out from the book with large, brown, soulful eyes.

Upon flipping through the pages, I realized it was a photography periodical, the name of which I have forgotten if I ever took notice of it at all; the title was not printed on the front cover.  This particular edition was devoted to Mexico and included both portraits and journalistic images of Mexican people and places.  A photo essay included within gave me pause at the enormous coincidence of picking up this particular publication among the hundreds that were displayed and led to a discovery that is the subject of this post.

I purchased the book with the intention of scanning the image on the front cover to include in this post, but after I returned home from the trip, I couldn’t find the book when I unpacked.  I cannot for the life of me understand what happened to it — I checked that hotel room three times before I walked out to make sure I wasn’t about to forget anything — but I can only assume that I left the periodical behind.

So I did some digging when I got home and found not only the web site of the photographer whose work I saw in the publication, but also information about the subjects in his photography project that I had stumbled across by pure, random chance.

The photographer was Nicola Ókin Frioli, and his photo essay Princesses in the land of Machos is about the Zapotec Muxes  in Juchitán in the state of Oaxaca in Southwestern Mexico.

From "Muxes - Zapotec Transgenders" from Nicola Ókin Frioli's Flickr photostream. Click on the image to see more.

Described in the media as homosexuals and/or transgender, the Muxes define themselves as neither men nor women, but simply as Muxe, a third gender.  They are an integral part of the indigenous Zapotec culture as described by Frioli in his essay:

MUXES – We are Princesses in a land of Machos (Oaxaca-Mexico)

They drink beer, they are part of local government and they are  a symbol of good luck for their family: they are Muxes, homosexuals of the “pueblo oaxacaqueno de Juchitan”, more than 3000 homosexuals who enjoy respect and admiration in all the country.

Los Muxes (in zapotec language means homosexual) are considered as a blessing in Juchitan and you can count almost 3000 of them.

According to a taxi-driver, there is a homosexual in every family and Muxes themselves assert to be “fallen from a broken pocket of San Vicente Ferrer” the patron saint of Juchitan, during his holy walk over the town (a local expression to say they are lucky, chosen people).

It is a luck for a homosexual to be born in Juchitan, where in a population of 160.000 people, the most of them feel respect for Muxes, while they walk proudly in the streets, dressed as women with huipiles and enaguas, typical dress of the Tehuantepec Isthmus.

The homosexuals of Juchitan have gained a place in economical and political activities, normally reserved to men.

They are owners of shops,they work in hospitals, they are successful stylists of the typical local dresses and owners of beauty salons.

A resident in Juchitan says ”Thanks to God, we have one of them in every family… they are like women, they work as a man, but they wash, cook, clean the house and when the other sons will get married and leave, they will stay and look after their old parents”.

“A lady living here, has accepted a son muxes… and then she has winned the lottery.. it is a real blessing. .everybody should accept them as they are.. in every place they are”.

Carlos Lopez Toledo, municipal councellor, explains that when a family realizes that a child has a bent for homosexuality, they treat him as a lucky charm, because Muxes are good producers.

“A lot of us are in this way, because our parents have converted us and treated as female “says Felina, a 36 years old Muxes, owner of an Estetica (beauty salon). ”I’m not a man.. I’m not a woman.. I’m a Muxes and there is place for everybody in the Vineyard of Lord “.

Mistica, 27 years old, makes traditional dresses “When I was a child, I used to play with my sisters,I dressed as a woman and I made myself up… my mother was happy and used to say she would like a son muxes… My father didn’t accept immediately and decided to bring me to the farm with my brothers… but once arrived… I run to pick up flowers…”

The Muxes have been covered in the media by the New York Times, in a documentary by Alejandra Islas entitled “Muxes – Authentic Intrepid Seekers of Danger” and in a series of videos by CNN, “Men, Women, Muxe: Mexico’s Third Gender.”

Part 1: Mexico’s Third Gender

Part 2: Evolution of Mexico’s Third Gender

Part 3: Muxe Today in Mexico

Perhaps you have heard of the Muxes before but their story was new to me.  If not for the blind luck of finding that photography periodical among the hundreds of publications in the book shop in the train station in the large city in Europe, I would not have known about the Muxes.  For those of you who did not know of the them before reading this post, I hope you enjoyed, as I did, learning about our beautiful siblings of Juchitán.

–ATM

In fact, I was invisible for decades but during all that time, I didn’t even know it.

I came to realize it one day when I was walking down the hallway at work,  just weeks after becoming self-aware of my true gender, wearing some new clothing I had bought only a couple of days prior.  Walking up ahead of me in the corridor was a coworker who turned to look back and then stopped as I approached.

She said, “This is the first time I’ve seen you wear shoes.”

It may not surprise you to learn that English is not her primary language.

I smiled and gently asked, “The first time I’ve worn shoes?”  ”No,” she replied, raising her hands as if to erase what she had just said.  ”I mean, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard you wear shoes that make noise.”

That was a watershed moment for me.  Her simple comment induced me to undergo a complete reflection and reevaluation of how I had presented myself throughout my life, and I realized that up until that day, I had been invisible.

During the majority of my life, my conscious mind didn’t know that I was a man but my subconscious sure did.  Couple that with the mirroring and witnessing that I experienced every day of my life, the constant signals firing back at me from the world around me that I was female (when in reality I was a man on the inside) drove me into hiding, but hiding in plain sight.

Like animals that blend in with their surroundings and are camouflaged in order to avoid harm, I had taken on a presentation that would help me walk through life as unnoticed as possible.

Clothing with plain colors, nothing loud, flashy or stylish, multiple layers to cover an unwanted body, quiet shoes to avoid detection, the same haircut year after year, no makeup, no jewelry (too feminine!), sometimes not even buttons or zippers were acceptable.  Anything to reduce the chances of being noticed, to avoid detection, and thereby avoid the number of interactions with people who would subconsciously send the social feedback that smacked right up against my inner self.

To be invisible.

Of course, when I was seen, I was seen as a woman and I tried my best to act that part. This went on for decades, managing as best I could to live as a woman, but subconsciously trying to stay under the radar as well.  When I look back on it, I wonder how I was able to keep that up for so long.

Now, things are different.  Now, I live fully as my true self and I am rarely, if ever, seen as female these days.  That’s been great – I finally feel like I’m fitting into the world in the proper context and I am more interactive than I was before, more noticed than I was before.

I am visible.

However, living life as a man and being seen as a man has presented a new set of challenges.  Whereas before I was repeatedly bombarded with social cues, signals and messages that grated against who I was on the inside, I am now repeatedly bombarded with social cues, signals and messages that I do not understand.

I went through adolescence living as a female, I was socialized as a female, and I learned the social cues, norms and expectations that come with being seen and treated as a woman.

Now that I am living as a man and being seen as one, I am lost in the land of social cues.

Compared to when I was living as a woman, now, men treat me differently, women treat me differently, gay men really treat me differently.  Not only do I not have a clue what these social cues and signals mean that I am now receiving as a man, I don’t know what social cues and signals to send back!

I feel like a stranger in a strange land, but then again, I’m really the same person in the same place I was before.

I know that I am not the first trans person to undergo a re-socialization in their true gender and I knew about this possibility long before I ever got to this point, but now that I’m in it, I’ve found it a challenge to stay engaged and interactive.  Similar to the way I managed it before, my reaction has been to hunker down, stay low and try to avoid detection.

I heard from a couple seasoned trans guys that this “awkward period” I’ll call it lasts about five years.

FIVE YEARS??!!!

I guess that makes sense when considering that quite a bit of socialization for adulthood occurs during adolescence, which seems to take about five years.  (I don’t have any scientific data to back up that statement, mind you.)

One of the guys pointed out that if I lay low, stay at home and try to avoid this uncomfortableness, it will take even longer to get through it.

Good point.

So now I’m a walking anthropological study and investigator all rolled into one, taking mental field notes and trying to interpret and draw conclusions about my social interactions.  I think I’ve bewildered some people with my social awkwardness or even lack of response (I’ve found it less scary sometimes to not do or say anything rather than risk doing or saying the wrong thing) but at least I haven’t seemed to really piss off anyone.

And with time and practice, I am sure that I will get to a point of being a familiar stranger in a not so strange land.  But I sure hope it doesn’t take five whole years!

–ATM