For the last few years, I have been living in constant worry over who knows I’m trans, who knows I date men, both, and neither. So, I decided to make a list of all the people who are currently in my life (family members, acquaintances, friends, classmates, coworkers who I consider “work friends,” and all of my Facebook friends) and break it down by categories.
Why have I felt crazy all this time? Maybe these numbers help to shed some light.
72 people (now 73, since I just came out to someone pretty important to me) know that I’m a transgender man who dates men. This includes several friends of mine from transgender support groups around the country.
75 people know that I’m a transgender man and do not know that I date men — but in my estimation, these people will probably not have a problem with that when they find that out.
12 people know that I’m a transgender man and do not know that I date men, but I am at least somewhat nervous (or, in a few cases, very scared) to tell these folks that I date men because I know they will not approve of it (many are family members; some are women who knew me as a “woman” who dated women). I anticipate questions from them like “why did you transition to live as a man if you wanted to be with men?”
Another 11 people (all family members) know that I’m a transgender man and do not know who I date, but their reactions to my gender transition were negative or awkward to the degree that I’m not all that comfortable being around them in person as it is, never mind telling them who I sleep with. These people I am also afraid of finding out that I date men because they may make a big scene that is targeted towards my parents rather than me (this happened already when I came out as trans).
17 people (or more) know that I’m a man who dates men, and see me as a gay man – but as far as I know, have no idea that I’m transgender (labelled female at birth and raised as a girl).
2 people (or more) believe I am a straight man with have no idea I am transgender or connected to the queer community at all.
and for approximately 103 other people, I really have no idea what they know. My guess is that some believe I am into women and that the rest believe I am into men, but that very few (maybe 1 or 2 of them) know or even suspect that I might be transgender.
Now, you may be thinking – particularly if you are lucky enough to never have had to deal with “coming out” as anything – what all this fuss is about. Why would people ever need to know any of this about another person, anyway? Why is it any of their business what my gender story is or who I sleep with? Here’s why this is a thing:
1. When different people know different things about you (and maybe everyone can relate to this part-we’ve all had our share of secrets), it is very stressful – no, scratch that – extremely stressful – to try to ensure that no information is getting out from one person to another. This is especially true on online networks like Facebook, where people like your great aunt might be conversing with your best college drinking buddy and your current supervisor about something you post. For many stealth trans people, Thursdays have become particularly high-alert days as the hashtag #tbt (Throwback Thursday) has gained prominence. People post old photographs from 5, 10, 15, however many years ago – and for trans men like, those pictures might show us looking like the girls we looked like when we were kids – and a well-meaning old friend casually enjoying #tbt and sharing old photos could out us to hundreds of people.
2. When people don’t know things, they fill in the gaps with whatever story they assume is true. For example, this means co-workers trying to set me up on blind dates with their daughters (yes, it’s happened.) Are these kinds of things the absolute worst thing ever to happen on the face of this planet? No, of course not, but it’s still very awkward to always have to magically take care of some urgent errand when the topic of dating – or my “boyhood” – or the origin of my name and “were your parents hippies or something to name you that?” comes up in conversation.
3. You know that thing where, when you eat too much sugar, your body starts turning it into and storing it as fat? Well, silence works the same way sometimes (for some people), except, instead of being turned into fat, it gets turned into shame. Now, this isn’t true for all people. Every person has the right to choose what they want to share (or not) about their own experiences and identities. But for me, personally, this is what happened. The more time that went by where nobody knew, the more and more afraid of these things I became. The stakes got higher and higher of what might happen if someone found out. Meanwhile, the people who did know things gained more and more power over me in a scenario they probably had no idea about, but which felt to me sort of like blackmail.
4. My gender identity/history and who I sleep with are essential parts of who I am, when it comes down to it. Again, this is not true for every trans or queer person on the planet. I am only speaking for myself. But for me, trying to compartmentalize myself makes me feel as if parts of me are always missing, and it further emphasizes the cycle of shame.
Thinking back through the years to before transition – before I realized that I would even be able to live as someone who looked like a man at all – it is wild to realize that this is where I am now.
Amorphous Amphibian 