Amygdalia's Blog

Wrestling with tough issues: To Speak, or Not to Speak

Yesterday was a day full of such conflicting emotions and desires that I spent most of the day and half the night worrying over what I should do, and mentally composing a blog post.

Two notes – First, I am writing this for myself. Because I need to get it out, because I need to work it through in my brain, and because I’m hoping it will help me gain some clarity on how to proceed. Second, I am changing the rating of my blog as a result of this post, because I know that there will be language and other things that warrant a higher rating than where my blog currently stands.

Fairly early in the day yesterday, as I was perusing Facebook, I came upon a post that caught my attention. Posts written by my cousin’s husband usually do . . . and particularly ones that involve acts of malice perpetuated by my cousin’s ex. Yesterday’s posts, however, struck me quite differently.

I will begin by saying that my cousin’s ex has been horrible to her, both during their marriage, as well as while they were divorcing and after, when fighting custody issues over their son, A. My first such memory involves a very pregnant cousin, sobbing in the row in front of me, at her grandmother’s funeral. Her future ex was not with her that day, because he “didn’t do funerals.” Just a small slice of the image of who this person is capable of being. There were many, many others over the years.

Flash forward to yesterday. Ostensibly, the post was about how the Clown (the watered down version of their nickname for her ex) was having a hissy fit because they bought my cousin’s son a flip phone to have with him during his summer stay with the Clown. Because apparently the phone was not authorized the Clown, and the Clown wanted to get him an iPhone, pay for it, be in charge of it, etc. Many control issues. Tip of the iceberg.

But that was just where the post began. It quickly devolved, as my cousin’s husband referred to cousin’s ex as he/she/it, and made a veiled comment that gave a hint as to his meaning. Not knowing the situation, and upset by the he/she/it comment, I sent my cousin a private message asking for explanation. The reply was that sent stated that J (male) was now C (female) and that where it any other person, “it” would be referred to as she . . . but being who “it” was, that THING was “it.”

I was devastated. Being a fierce ally of the transgender community, as the parent of a transgender kid, how could I possibly stand by and allow such a thing to occur? And among people I absolutely adore. But I didn’t have the right words. I was too angry and upset. So I stewed.

My first and biggest concern was that if Dr B saw these comments, they would be very hurt and upset. They have been very close to my cousin and her husband, and have had a very special relationship with them. I KNOW that this has nothing whatsoever to do with how they feel about Dr B . . . but how could they NOT take it personally? This was confirmed for me this morning, when I received a FB message from Dr B. We chatted a bit, and I shared some of the thoughts that had been plaguing me, and that I had intended to write, in this blog post.

I cannot dismiss all of the horrible things that A’s other parent has done over the years - both when they were still married, and during and after the divorce. But at the same time, the idea that transgender issues are being thrown around as another way to dehumanize strikes me at my very core. And then again . . . being transgender is not a Get Out of Assholery Free card. They have every right to be angry for all the bullshit that has been perpetuated, and I understand that they have no respect at this point for reasons completely unrelated, but this to me seemed to glom onto something so vital to C's humanhood, and shred it to pieces. And while I believe most of their friends are likely quite liberal and accepting, anything that perpetuates hatred of transgender individuals in a general sense is not acceptable. In the wider world there's still very much the sense, I think, that ALL the problems a transgender person has are because *gasp* they're *shudders* transgender.

Hubby posed the question of how we might rank acceptable terms of derision in such situations. For example, were C short - as in Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3, Scene 2:
HELENA
Oh, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd!
She was a vixen when she went to school.
And though she be but little, she is fierce.
HERMIA
“Little” again? Nothing but “low” and “little”!—
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
LYSANDER
(to HERMIA) Get you gone, you dwarf,
You minimus of hindering knotgrass made,
You bead, you acorn!

would it then be more acceptable? Yeah . . . I had to throw in a little Shakespeare there, because as soon as hubby mentioned short, that scene came to mind.

Anyway! Back to the point. Being short myself, I would not necessarily be offended by such a slight. Well, maybe. It does not attack my humanhood. It does not perpetuate deep-seated prejudices and play into the fear of difference that so many people still carry with them. As I’m fighting for equality and acceptance among the transgender community, I read this and almost literally see a small step of pavement the transgender community has traversed forward in their efforts for recognition crumble in front of me.

Then, too . . . I had no idea that this was something that was happening in A's life. A connection that, whether he struggled to accept it or not, I could have provided a support for him during a time of transition in his life.

So I’m still struggling. Still torn. Still uncertain as to how to move forward. I cannot stand idly by like a coward because I do not want to cause offense to those who have already been given quite a bit of offense from another quarter. I do not want to alienate people whom I love dearly. But at the same time, I do not want to feel alienated from them by virtue of my inability to speak my mind when the going gets tough. I do not want to feel hurt by their callous words, and I absolutely do not want Dr B to be hurt. The fierce Mama Bear in me will now allow it.