Q:
I’m a lesbian that detransitioned about a year ago. Prior to that, I lived for nearly a decade as a trans man, until I slowly but surely realised I had no interest at all in manhood and simply saw no way to live with dignity as a GNC queer woman at the time my identity formed. (For context, I’m from a country that’s much more socially conservative than the average Western one.)
I always thought, if I weren’t a trans man, I’d be a butch lesbian. In my childhood and teenage years I was heavily punished for exhibiting masculinity, bullied for physical androgyny, and forced into feminine fashion and pursuits. And there are definitely aspects of female masculinity that genuinely appeal to me, but lately I’m finding myself drawn to more feminine expression, as well. I feel conflicted about pursuing that in part because this was once forced on me against my will, but also because I find myself unsure whether I genuinely dislike some aspects of femininity, or that I feel as if I look like a disgusting monster when I try. The whole thing with me having my physical and behavioural masculinity ‘corrected’ with forced femininity has messed up my relationship with it. I feel a transfem-like sense of dysphoria that tells me I look repulsive when I try to be feminine, like a ‘man in a dress’ — that’s how those ‘corrective’ actions once made me feel, and now I have to sort through that a decade later.
I know there’s nothing wrong with masculine features and feminine presentation, nor with looking like or being mistaken for a clocky trans woman. I’m not really looking for passing advice, either, because the vast majority of my problems seem to be just in my head. I only want some advice on how to disentangle those feelings, because just telling myself that I’m valid and that it’s okay does not seem to work.
A:
Swallowed up in the sauce is right, OP. You’ve had a tough path, and the culture around you did nothing to give you a stable sense of gender identity. I also feel pretty strongly with your characterization of gender being enforced on you and used as a corrective tool. So much that one day, the things that would make you happy become a source of shame due to the past.
In any case, hi to you. I’m Summer, a trans girl, and you’re not alone in your feelings.
The coercive action taken against us rarely leads to happy outcomes. It tends to foster a state of uncomfortable performance filtered through dread. The same applies to gender expression as it does to overly restrictive or permissive parenting over children’s eating habits. It creates unhappy people who find it even more difficult to heal themselves when they eventually see the errors made.
Finding it difficult to meet your desired self as an adult is a completely normal part of the dysphoric experience. And while I’m not in a position to be making a diagnosis, your story definitely reads like a windy road to gender dysphoria. Also, I should point out that the feeling of wanting a certain expression (In your case: femininity) but thinking you’d be inadequate at it sounds very Gender Dysphoria. Anyone can feel like they’re not yet ready for something small. An item of clothing or a hairstyle. But when the focal point of that stress is just in an entire branch of gender expression? There’s something there. This sounds crazy to me too, but people who don’t have gender dysphoria don’t think about their gender much. They sort of just do it. Wild, right?
Part of me wonders if your time spent in transition and being masculine has fed into the current distress. Is it possible that part of your drive to be a trans man included rejecting femininity? That may have left a resentful mark against feminine expression that must now be faced. I mean, my transition certainly included rejecting my old masculinity, but I was sure about that decision and wasn’t pushed into it. If any of this resonates with you, then part of your de-transitioning process will include reflection which parts were beneficial or harmful to you.
On the topic of detransition, I realize that transition and detransition tend to be seen as very sharp turns in life, even though their very names should imply that it’s all a process. The work you’re doing to form a (happier) life for yourself after transition reminds me of this Matt Bernstein episode. In it, he discusses detransitioner panic and how it’s weaponized by anti-trans actors but crucially, he also interviews a woman who de-transitioned. The woman he interviews describes herself as ‘detransgender’. Both to distance herself from anti-trans ‘detransitioners’, but also because she sees her transgender past as part of herself. From that perspective, transition and detransition don’t have to be forever-commitments, but all part of a lasting journey in search of inner peace. That interview guest may have some helpful insights for you. Or at least, they’ll showcase someone who detransitioned and didn’t turn it into a batshit right-wing grift.
As for your ‘man-in-a-dress’ feelings, be assured that I was there, and it took a while to overcome. That branch of thinking usually stems from shame that’s been etched into us by past experiences. I think that people’s past efforts to impose femininity on you against your will had some effect on that. If not that, then your transition toward masculinity may have done something to that effect. Those of us who experience this feeling all have to figure out a way through it. I’m really happy to see that yours is not too tightly linked with the need to be read as your gender (AKA ‘pass’). That one won’t weigh as heavily on you as it does for others.
For those feelings, I’d recommend the same thing to any trans person: anchor points. Anchor points are positive qualities in our journey that we can hold onto while we grow. In your case, it would be something you consider feminine that doesn’t make you feel gross. Take that something — be it a body language cue, clothing item, accessory, or interest — and hang onto it. Expand and cultivate it. Let the happiness from this anchor spread outward and soften the shame of other forms of femininity. When it doesn’t work, you can still fall back to this anchor point and stabilize yourself. Anchor points work well to combat shame because very few people are completely and utterly averse to a whole way of being. Even masculine people have something feminine they can look to in their path, and vice versa.
During my early transition, I was emotionally anchored to my hair and hair accessories. They were a safe and cherished place I could fall back on anytime. Your detransition may have revealed similar qualities. Feminine aspects about yourself that are thankfully untouched by bad feelings. Start with those and keep them close to you.
Disentangling the feelings you’ve shared with me today won’t be an easy road. It’s certainly not something that one Autostraddle author can do for you, even if I tried my best. For better or worse, it’s going to be a journey. I think it’s one you’re well-equipped to face seeing as you’ve already undergone one major period of change. You already know the ins and outs. Better yet, you know what doesn’t work for you — a major success of its own. The years you spent in transition aren’t necessarily a waste. There are plenty of lessons and experiences you can draw from that to build the future. Your reflections on gendered trauma and ingrained shame about femininity are a great starting point. Although nobody in a society can ever be free of gendered influence, you’ve at least reached a point where you have less harmful influence than ever and can write your own story. That is the very heart of successful gender exploration and you’re already doing it.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
