Tag: transgender

  • BOY: A transmasculine narrative in SA

    BOY: A transmasculine narrative in SA

    My name is Wes Leal and I am a 19-year-old boy who was gendered female at birth.

    Although I was too young to properly grasp the concept of ‘gender’ when I began realising that something was wrong, I definitely knew that I wasn’t a girl. For years I kept it to myself, hoping that it would go away but it never did.

    In 2015 I came out to my girlfriend Boni and ever since then we’ve been in it together.

    I didn’t come out to anyone else until this year, marking the beginning of my transition.

    I have been contemplating going on Testosterone for about three years but as quickly as those thoughts would come, they were pushed away. It wasn’t until Kalo‘K-$’ Canterbury had an Instagram Live talking about his own transition that something inside of me clicked. That was a very important moment for me. All the trans boys that I knew about were distant social media presences, and I had rarely ever heard someone talk about what I was feeling.Watching that Live made me wonder why I was still trying to deny something so evident.

    So on that exact night I made the decision to assert my identity more and make steps towards beginning my own social and medical transition.

    Kalo’s openness about his own transition inspired me to be open about my journey because I thought it would be really cool if I could make something to help other dudes as much as he helped me.

    So Boni and I decided to begin documenting my life through film photography. She managed to capture so many different stages and feelings leading up to one of the most important appointments of my life, all while presenting me as I would like to be seen by the world. Working with someone who understands my complex relationship with my body has helped me say a final goodbye to this body that I find myself in at this time.

    My social transition started with coming out to my younger sister. I had previously blocked her from my Instagram stories as did Boni, and essentially, I had begun leading a double life. Eventually the misgendering became too much and I told her, and to my surprise she took it very well which gave me the confidence to come out on Instagram and be more assertive about my pronouns.

    Soon after this, with the help of Kalo, I changed my name to Wes (which I’m still getting used to) and expected that everyone around me would see me for the boy that I am. But for some reason people who didn’t even know me before I came out were having a hard time seeing and understanding that I am a boy.

    The frustration I felt in times like those drew my eye to images of blue and pink buildings, firstly, because the colours pink and blue are highly gendered, and secondly, because I began thinking about the barriers that walls create – what they keep in, and what they keep out. I immediately connected with this pink building in Rondebosch and began to think that the world sees me similarly in a lot of ways. The people who misgender me only see me as a pink barrier that can’t let masculinity in. No matter how much I present like a cis-man all they see is a pink wall.

    Despite all the pain and discomfort, I’m looking forward to this new journey. On Friday, March 16, 2018 I have my first appointment with a psychiatrist who works with transgender patients and I will explore my options regarding my medical transition. I’m nervous, yet relieved, and I’m grateful for the people who have come into my life along the way and given me the support and love I need to see this through.

    I want to say a special thank you to the dude K-$ whose presence has had the most impact during this stage of my life. Thank you for speaking on your truth so I could do the same.

     

    See you on the other side,

    WES LEAL

     

    Illustrations by Wes Leal

  • Thinking about de-gendering as a route to personhood

    Thinking about de-gendering as a route to personhood

    So the first time I encountered the term ‘cisgender’ was on my colourful Twitter timeline. Some troll was ignorantly spewing his privilege and a beautiful bisexual boy that I follow called the troll a “cisgender straight white male” while telling him to take several seats.

    After tediously Googling the term, I was informed that being “cisgender” means that your gender identity matches the sex that you were assigned at birth. So basically when you were born your physical attributes, which are anatomically and physiologically predetermined, and your internal conviction that you are either male or female, plus the cultural behavioural expressions of those convictions, all marry each other harmoniously.

    When the beautiful bisexual boy was calling out that troll, “cisgender” sounded like a swear word because how could one body have so much hegemonic power, such unadulterated privilege. It seemed obscene until I realised I am cisgender and confronting this privilege was bewildering since other components that make up my identity, such as race, nationality, sex and sexuality are not necessarily hegemonic.

    Initially, I was confronted by my cisgender privilege a couple of years ago when I approached a public restroom that did not have the universal male or female signage. Instead the figure on the door was just a person, which I certainly am, but this privilege of fitting comfortably at one end of the sex/gender binary made me question if I even belonged in that gender neutral space because hello hi, the entire world has created public restrooms, and every other space, on the dominant societal  assumption that everyone is cisgender. This prolonged perpetuation of the sex/gender binary has caused for the maintenance of gender inequality. As a human being dedicated to the decolonisation of my mind, walk through this with me as I unpack how de-gendering is crucial to decolonisation (decolonisation in this context being the undoing of hegemonic “norms” and mindsets.)

    Firstly, let’s get this one thing clear, “nature” does not dictate how we perform gender, instead we do as producers of our culture. The assignment of sex at birth is based on our understanding of gender identity. So girls have uteruses and boys have penises. This basic arrangement of gender and other various subtle and overt arrangements of gender are reproduced socially by power structures in order to shape individual action, and because of the histories of the powers that be, these arrangements appear solid.  Therefore it is dominant ideologies that perpetuate the sex/gender binary in order to maintain power dynamics.

    I believe that if we started with discarding sex assignment at birth as a “regulatory practice” that “institutes the production of discrete and asymmetrical oppositions between ‘feminine’ and ‘masculine’, where these are understood as expressive attributes of ‘male’ and ‘female’” then we could ultimately de-gender society and “true humanism” could be realised and instituted (Judith Butler). Being freed from these shackles of the sex/gender binary allows individuals to step into a personhood that is not regulated by hegemonic norms or socially prescribed ways of being and interaction.

    However, this immediate route to de-gendering is essentialist. We are still part of a world that has “norms” and ideals that are deeply interwoven into our social fabric. For example, the social construction of the female body and the normalisation of the male body has considered the female body as “the other”. This othering of the female body is based on anatomy and physiology and this othering also seeps into the subjugation of a feminine expression of gender. Femininity is still assumed to be debilitating. People with female bodies and whose gender expression is feminine are victims of oppression. Hence histories that reflects the need to implement equality constitutionally, institutionally and domestically.

    So before we can de-gender, I believe we need to de-cisgender first. There are and always have been and there still will be many more individuals who are non-binary, transgender and queer. Forget my privileged gender neutral experience, there are people who wake up every day compromising how they navigate their existence because of this idea that there are only two sexes and their manifestation should either be masculine or feminine depending on their body. I believe that once cisnormativity and its partner in crime, heteronormativity, are overthrown from our mindsets and understanding of bodies and sexuality, then surely the superiority of the male body and masculine expression would collapse?

    It is important to realise that the crux of our minor differences are what these dominant ideologies that perpetuate oppression are built on. It is about damn time that we interrogate this social construct and unlearn how we have been taught to prescribe ideas onto our bodies as well other people’s bodies.

    Only once the intricate hierarchies involved in our understanding of gender are undone then we can move into the dismantling phase of the entire construct: no body will be categorised and no personhood presumed in accordance. Essentially, people could simply be people.

  • I’m a warrior and not a survivor: Interview with Germaine De Larch on Trans identity and continuing its visibility

    When knee deep into Women’s Month we tend to forget to ask ourselves ‘how do I intend on keeping the conversation going?’ This year has seen an especially politically charged Women’s Month in South Africa. This month was prefaced by the action during the President Jacob Zuma’s election briefing at the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC) being disrupted by the silent protesters, Amanda Mavuso, Naledi Chirwa, Tinyiko Shikwambane and Simamkele Dlakavu.

    Through their protest these Gender activists’ were sparking necessary discussions surrounding gender violence and women’s bodies. Though triggering at times, one of the hardest aspects of gender activism is reminding people that these issues of violence against women are not just for discussion during this single month.

    Yet its discussion ensures that the discourse surrounding women’s bodies, as triggering and difficult as they may be, continues through the pain. When it is no longer fashionable to do so, at risk of being accused of being a gender instigator, we continue. For me Germaine de Larch has been one such activist who continues this work through the use of his body and his words on his blog.

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    Making invisible bodies Visible 

    I first saw Germaine on my Facebook page as an update on a friend’s activities who had “liked” a post of his. What first struck me about the post was his honesty. From the get go he was open about his Trans identity, and struggle to find his space amongst his female feminist community. Having been chastised for wanting to become “a man” he was adamant that he would still remain a feminist but one who is conscious of his new male privilege.

    What struck me about his ideas are their complexity and somewhat contradictory nature. Having never felt like a woman but never feeling like being a man, he explains that his gender identity cannot be comfortably placed on either side of the binary. He describes himself as being a non-binary gender queer whose main focus is to move outside of the gender stereotypes. He describes himself as being a proud feminist politically, which is a big deal for him as he does not identify as just Trans but a “trans man”.

    Germaine’s ideas on gender challenge the normalised binaries. They do so by his questioning of what it means to be Trans, forcing the concept of ‘non-binary’ to be taken seriously. Germaine is not one for such oversimplified notions of gender and would clearly define himself as one who slips in-between such static notions of such.  In an act of ‘intellectual agency’ he understands his new role as a feminist would be one that includes a discussion on his own whiteness and soon to be ‘male privilege’.

    It is within this category that he does not identify as a cisgender male and therefore cannot consider his identity as moving from female to male, Trans(ition), binary. For him, non-binary allows one to explore the different genders whilst not being stuck in either. “As an assigned female at birth (AFAB) person I can still go onto testosterone whilst not proclaiming that I want to be a man”. For Germaine the task for non-binary is not the dismissal of a gender reality but rather the exploration of the self, outside of the set boxes of man and woman.

    “My images are a conscious choice to tell my own story and collaboratively tell the stories of my community, my city.”

    For Germaine a major focus in his work is talking about his own experiences traveling between gender identities as a transgender (Trans) man.  Having recently started hormone treatments and experiencing its effects, much of his conversation would be about his physical reactions and how they impact on his understanding of his politics and who he is.

    He identifies his work as part of the conversation on Trans visibility, “by being visible for others where others that can’t be visible themselves”. He achieves this through portraiture and an engagingly in-depth blog, both of which offer a glance into Germaine’s Trans journey and a theoretical exploration thereof.  It is through his contribution to the discussion on gender that we see his work resonating with a collective (LGBTQI) story.

    Activism through Art

    His work with photography, starting with self-portraits, would be the beginning of his activist work. Suffering from writer’s block at the time, the medium would be a useful outlet for his ideas. “Making portraits was an intense way of asking questions that you can’t escape. What is your gender? What are its performed rites of passage?”

    Through self-portraiture he would perform gender by using props and make-up.  He would examine his responses to gender and his own preconceptions of it. “By doing such analysis you can only find out what you are by what you are not. If I am not this blank canvas then what am I?” For him the art process is one of self-exploration. For him the testosterone and tattoos would also be a crucial part of his method of “painting”. His process becomes one of self-examination, of who you are and who you can be. The body becomes the canvas in which one can “play out the roles”.

    In his work he also wanted to examine the responses of the viewer engaging with these representations. With his relative safety he is provided the opportunity of showing himself where others have to hide.  In being visible he wanted to make the world aware of how we are also vulnerable to troll, those who would also have a lot of negative things to say to her. He shares the responses to his online followers to show them how society can react to Trans individuals.  Though many of the responses have been positive there are still a few who would publicly chastise him for being Trans.

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    A warrior not a survivor 

    Not a survivor, a warrior, recreating myself & my body, learning to live life large, one day at a time. Non-Binary Genderqueer

    In his blog he describes himself as “a warrior and not a survivor”. This was done in response to how so much of the discourse surrounding victims of rape are overshadowed as victims.  He makes this move to warrior as a conscious political act of reclaiming himself outside the confines of ‘rape victim’. “I took who she could have been, a self lost from the violence. By bringing that person back by engaging with a process of becoming”. This is his act of reclamation, the conscious continuous act of developing oneself.

    In dealing with his depression the same act of reclamation is present as it becomes one of also reclaiming a life lost from dealing with depression. “Its about knowing myself, knowing my triggers and weak points so that it’s not just about living with it but living a full life. Reclaiming my life over depression is about not being a victim over something I cannot control.”

    Identity is intersectional

    The inclusion of sexual abuse and mental illness in his writing is there to shows how complex one’s identity one can be whilst living as Trans. “I am not just Trans, I am all these things and they speak to each other explaining who I am.” In highlighting his Trans identity in writing he aims to challenge the medicalised understandings of Trans and sees these two issues as occurring separately. “I can be sick but also Trans and seek medical treatment. I seek medical help as a human being and not as trans”. Yet he is very much aware of the stigma and prejudice surrounding his LGBTQI community and how their very identity as Trans can actually prevent one from getting adequate treatment.

    My work is thus a collaboration with people and places on a journey of who they are, who are interested in playing with their identities, who want to explore the creative possibilities outside of the stereotypes.”

    It’d be easy to forget just how personal the lives of those these theory functions to explain. He whose life, politics and activism cannot be separated from each other. For him these worlds are always in conversation resulting in work that is both deeply personal and furiously conscious.

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  • Giving Content to Decolonisation; The Trans Collective in South Africa

    “Our bodies are political.

    Our pain is systematical.

    We represent the bastards.

    We stand for the nothings.

    We shout for the unheard.

    We occupy space for the excluded.

    We demand representation for the invisible.

    We speak with people like us.” 

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    The Trans Collective is a radical black decolonial student movement with close affiliations to and personnel overlaps with the Rhodes Must Fall (RMF) movement at the University of Cape Town in South Africa. This article extrapolates from a conversation with the Trans Collective, as well as from resources and statements made available on their Facebook page. The conversation was initiated in response to the Trans Collective’s recent intervention at the opening of the exhibition: Echoing Voices from Within, commemorating the first anniversary of the formation of the RMF movement. The Trans Collective has stated in no uncertain terms; “Our intervention is an act of black love. It is a commitment towards making RMF the fallist space of our dreams.” In other words, the intervention, as well as the struggles that led to it, are not to be appropriated as somehow symbolic of the flaws of the decolonial struggle by those who desire the continuation of entrenched, racist structures of power. That the decolonial struggle is being contested from within is a testament to its rigour and vitality. As the Trans Collective state; “Decoloniality is not a metaphor”- it is experiential practice that simply cannot be decided in advance.

    The Trans Collective reflect this radical decolonial praxis in their refusal to capture and commodify, in their refusal to assert ultimate signifiers and meanings. There is a kind of intimate knowledge there, a knowing of the damage that can be done by a single word, a single pronoun, a name. For the Trans Collective, solidarity cannot be centralised around a single rallying point because that could never do justice to the complexity and multiplicity of experiences of oppression under white supremacist colonialism. Rather, solidarity is to be found in a kind of radical empathy, an understanding of intersectionality that implies that this pain is political, but other pain, unknown pain, is valid and political too. The more a person or movement claims to have all the answers the more answers are maimed in the process and thus, the Trans Collective reject an egoist, assertive politics, and embrace, instead, a radically militant, yet uncertain politics where the scope of consideration is opened up rather than narrowed down. They understand that a truly decolonial project cannot simply pick and choose the aspects that suit it best. They understand that the aspects that sit most comfortably are probably the ones most desperately in need of unsettling, because sitting comfortably has no place in dethroning. And they are positioned to know this, to see the insidious workings of systemic power and oppression when their daily lives, the most basic of tasks- such as using a toilet, or being addressed, or having to fill out a form, or produce a student card, or occupy space in a residence- coalesce in a series of violent microaggressions that would see them suffocate with every breath taken.

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    The Trans collective puts forward the idea that Decolonisation must be built on a reclamation of humanity and this cannot occur when what is most valid and necessary and human is still being demarcated, commodified, and decided in advance. White supremacy has always employed, and continues to employ, overt, as well as subtle and pervasive, technologies of physical and metaphysical power. Its processes of mapping, naming, containing, and classifiying, symbolically and physically disfigure, dismember, and dehumanise. The Trans Collective are acutely aware of these intersections when they position confronting toxic gender constructs as an indispensable part of the decolonisation project. Hierarchical processes of visibilising and invisibilising need to be met by similarly thorough refigurings and rememberings and the Trans Collective seem to call for this comprehensive reorganisation, for a passionate disordering that completely subverts and exorcises the exploitative logics of alienation and dispossession.

    To labour the point against the materiality of resistance to change; if the oppressions suffered under a white supremacist, imperialist, ableist, capitalist cisheteropatriarchy are systemic, they are inherently multi-faceted and no single aspect can be hierarchically prioritised above the rest; to do so would be to employ the very same logics that the current decolonial struggles seek to eradicate. Telescoping out to current South African politics, a conversation currently happening from within and between black communities (because this is the only zone from which this can happen with any validity) then contests; when black cishet patriarchs within decolonial struggles choose to frame anything that does not conform to their particular construction of decolonisation as being somehow divisive, as being somehow geared towards a derailing of the struggle, they simply fail to properly comprehend the struggle itself. The Trans Collective asks; if unlearning is not a fundamental part of the process, then when will the unlearning happen? To ask for some issues to be left at the door is to ask for people to be left at the door, to be excluded from the struggle- a reality powerfully embodied when members of the Trans Collective lay naked at the doors to the RMF exhibition, speaking truth to power in their provocation for people to step over them if they felt the consumption of content to be more important than actual bodies, actual lives. Commodification and thing-ification are tactics of colonial power, directly pointed to by the title of their statement on the intervention: Tokenistic, objectifying, voyeuristic inclusion is at least as disempowering as complete exclusion.

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    If this article has spoken to the importance of the Trans Collective’s perspectives for the decolonialisation project generally speaking, it is to drive home the significance of their theorising from the margins, to highlight the wealth of insights they have courageously offered-up to the ongoing struggle and some of the ways in which they have given that content.  However, the intervention was the performance of justified rage against their erasure, against the co-option of their bodies as public persuasion rhetoric, against the hypocrisy of knowledge that what might be exhibited as gains for the RMF have not necessarily translated into gains for them as black trans bodies; and this despite the Trans Collective being actively involved in the formation of RMF and standing on every hostile frontline- facing tear gas and stun grenades and violence with no hesitation for the heightened vulnerabilities their bodies may carry. They were undoubtedly entitled to the deliberate occupation of the exhibition space, to the radical act of reclaiming the meaning of their own bodies. Not only has the Trans Collective created a powerful, living archive of black trans contributions to decolonial struggles, but they have also stuck a thorn in the side of what liberation might mean, forcing decolonisation to face that which it has over-looked and, in doing so, become much stronger.

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    You can learn more about this this radical, black, trans, militant feminist, decolonial student movement, as well as read the official intervention statement here:

    https://www.facebook.com/transfeministcollective

    #RadicalBlackFeministMilitancy #Decolonization #BlackTransBodiesGivingContent #BlackTransBodiesReclaimingSpace #RMFTransCapture