Speech
The following speech was delivered at the SAY SO! event sponsored by New York City Alliance Against Sexual Abuse (www.nycagainstrape.org) on Friday, April 20.
When I am asked, “Are you a Man or a Woman?” I instantly know it’s going to be a bad day.
When I am asked, “Are you a Man or a Woman?” I am denied the dignifying right to privacy, not to mention the basic privilege of going to the store without being hassled.
When I am asked, “Are you a Man or a Woman?” I know the answer is already assumed. And I am still expected to say something. This question is rhetorical, but demands a response. I am called to defend my existence.
I can’t say, “I’m trans.” That is a lesson best taught to willing students, not street toughs who thrill upon making me squirm, sweat, or shrink in public embarrassment. And it’s not acceptable to say, “I’m a guy,” either, because this answer isn’t understood, isn’t respected, isn’t enough.
I could be wearing a tie around my neck, have a shine on my shoes, scratch at the stubble on my neck and answer with resonant baritone to plead my case, but the verdict has already been decided.
Or I could show them my license! My license! Reach into my wallet and point, “Look! See! There - M!” Or I could tell them my name is Matthew or Michael or Micah or Mark. “Mister. Get it? Male. Me.”
“Yeah, but are you REALLY a man?” And there it is. This isn’t a question, it is a demand. And it is the first in a line of demands that I can’t even begin to answer verbally.
“Let’s see what IT is…”
“Whip it out and prove it.”
“Take it off and prove it.”
Prove it.
The answer they seek isn’t located in my words or my clothing or any piece of plastic I might flash. What is in my pants, to them, will be my overriding identity. And I am beyond a situation of verbal harassment and staring in the face of sexual violence.
This is how it begins.
My name is Leigh Thompson and I am the co-founder and Acting President of the TransMasculine Community Network, an organization to foster community among transmasculine people and allies and promote social change. I am an organizer and an activist and I work within trans and gender-nonconforming communities.
But before we get too far into this I want to clear up what I mean by “trans”. When I say “trans” I use the broadest possible terms, referring to ANY person who was assigned one gender at birth but feels that this gender is incorrect. Any person who feels they experience or express their gender in a way that is different from the gender presentation society expects from them. This difference could be significant - as it often is in transmen, transwomen, male-to-female or female-to-male transsexuals - or less significant - as it often is with cross-dressers, genderqueers, queens, dykes, sissies, butches, drag king or queens or any other label that has developed as a result of emerging trans identities. I am transmasculine, meaning I was assigned female at birth but feel this is an incomplete description of my gender. I identify as trans and as queer and as male.
Trans and gender-nonconforming people have been around since the dawn of human history, although gender policing is a fairly recent phenomenon. As a result of this policing, a greater trans movement is growing to fight diligently for human rights to health care, access to employment, and freedom of self-determination. We are not alone in those fights.
Many organizations, institutions, and individuals don’t pay much attention to trans people in regard to sexual abuse because they aren’t aware that this is a problem. And there isn’t statistical data to support us. Organizations that recognize our existence often don’t change their structures to provide assistance or support to trans people.
But this isn’t because trans people aren’t being abused, and it certainly isn’t because there are too few trans people. Sexual crimes against trans people happen a more significant rate than is reported. Those who do report may not report as trans for fear of losing family, friends, and jobs. There are many trans people who live “stealth” lives, fully integrated into society in their gender identity and don’t want to risk what they’ve struggled to build. There are many trans people who don’t recognize their trans history as a part of their identity, and therefore don’t report as trans. Others don’t associate with the LGB(T) community, and are missed when statistical data is collected.
And trans people don’t seek service for sexual abuse for the same reason most survivors don’t report. Fear. A trans person who has survived sexual abuse must decide if it is worth it to attempt surviving law enforcement agencies, health care organizations, and support systems. Law enforcement doesn’t have a good track record for keeping trans people safe. We remember cultural icons like Brandon Teena, a transmasculine person from my home state, Nebraska, who was raped and courageously reported it to local officials, only to be dismissed and ignored, and murdered by his rapists days later. You may remember his story from the movie Boy’s Don’t Cry. Trans people remember him as a grave warning of what happens when you report.
Or we think of our friend who is forcibly removed from a women’s support center when she was accused of being “really a man”. Or the transman who had to choose between the women’s center where they failed to recognize or renounced his male identity, or tell a room full of non-trans men how he was raped “like a girl”. Or the male-to-female transsexual who was placed in a Men’s ward at a local hospital for recovery where staff exposed her naked torso and breasts in full view of male patients in neighboring beds.
Until we have safe, respectful ways for trans people to report their abuse, to recover, heal, and gain support, we will never know exactly how many trans people walk in silenced shame. And I fear the true number would outrage us all.
Sexual abuse of trans people is prevalent because society oversexes our existence. When we are suspected to be, reveal ourselves to be, or show any sign of being trans, our self-determined identity, our personality, our humanity disappears. Dehumanizing a person is the first step to abusing them. Once we cease to be people we become objects. We become clothing, a system of behavioral codes, and a body. We become public oddities for public consumption.
And hate crimes against trans people are always sexual in nature because our bodies are at the root. Targeted trans people are accused by their attackers of perverting the gendered sex structures that shape our entire society, and for this atrocity they are punished by the very weapon that defines this system.
Our bodies, by which I mean, our GENITALS, are expected to define all of us. Our bodies are our legal and societal status. But as trans people, our bodies don’t delegitimize us. Our bodies don’t betray us. We are not trapped in our bodies, we are trapped in a societal system that believes we are to be defined by what we keep between our legs.
When we live in such a society, will we ever be far from the threat of sexual abuse? And, if we are expected to live, dress, speak, walk, stand, interact in a way that is a reflection of what we keep in our pants, then all of us are trapped.
This is not satisfactory. Therefore we must find a solution, we must move forward. And we must do so together. I challenge reporting agencies to be diligent in acquiring accurate statistics that reflect the lives of trans people. I beg authorities to protect the marginalized and misunderstood people of this society. I ask organizations to reevaluate your systems of support. I ask trans and gender-nonconforming people when possible to speak openly and honestly about sexual abuse, and to challenge the stigmas that surround our bodies and sexuality, and the societal structures that force our silence. And most importantly, I appeal to each of you to advocate for all victims of sexual abuse, no matter what their history, body, or gender identity.
Be a friend. Be an ally. Because sexual abuse dehumanizes all of us.