Connie Anne McEntee's Blog, page 3

"Golden Boy": a Trans Person's Perspective

The book Golden Boy by Abigail Tarttelin was far more powerful and had a far greater affect on me than I had been anticipating.

SPOILER ALERT: I'm about to discuss details of the story. If you haven't read this book yet, drop what you're doing and go read it. Now. Then, please come back to this blog post.

The main character, Max, is intersex; he has a penis, but also has a vagina and uterus. He identifies as male and is attracted to girls. But, he also fears relationships with regards to physical intimacy. He's afraid people will freak out that he's intersex. Being trans and in transition, I can relate somewhat to this. My gender identity is solid: I am a woman. But I know that my anatomy doesn't match what people expect when they seek romantic or even sexual relationships with a woman.

But that's an aside issue really.

Early in the book Max is raped by a friend, Hunter, who's just about considered a cousin due to close how his and Max's mothers are. Hunter was drunk and Max protests verbally but Hunter doesn't stop. This pretty much coincides with the start of the school year too.

Max secretly goes to a doctor to get a morning-after pill, but ends up being sick the day he uses it and vomits it out. As a result he ends up pregnant.

I am most fervently pro-choice. But when I read that Max was pregnant I began to hope he wouldn't abort. That was quite a wake-up call for me. Here I was mentally encouraging a fictional intersex teenager to keep his baby. I think part of this stems from the fact that since I'm a male-to-female transsexual I will never be pregnant. Ever. And though I really don't want to start again now in my mid-forties, I frequently find myself mourning the fact that I'll never conceieve or nurse a baby.

As the school year progresses, Max has to tell his parents that he's pregnant and an abortion is scheduled along with other surgical procedures to "correct" his intersex condition and make him "male". The scenes in which Max observes other parents with babies were just gut-wrenching to me. Eventually, on the morning of the abortion, he asks for more time. This happens as he's being put under general anasthetic. While his mother hears him and understands his request, she ignores it and the pregnancy is terminated. This leads to conflict between Karen, Max's mother, and his father, Steve. Karen and Steve separate.

We parents must be constantly thinking of the well-being of our children. It's just something we do, and it shouldn't just be out of parental duty or loyalty. No. That sense of duty should be guided by our love for our children. Karen makes it clear that she was doing exactly this when she allowed the abortion to proceed. And in her defense, she cancelled all other medical procedures to "correct" Max.

I grudgingly gave Karen credit for cancelling the "corrective" surgeries but I hated her for terminating the pregnancy. By the end of the book, though, Max admits it's what he would've done anyway. He begins to reconcile with Karen, and I am schooled in mature responses because of it.

The book also does a great job of showing the limits of medical science with regards to treating intersex, and even transgender, persons. Specialists criticize general practitioners and insist that the only proper thing is for persons such as Max to be made one or the other, even if it means destroying Max's fertility, something he doesn't want done. There's an excellent section from Max's point of view toward the end of the book that describes the trouble faced by persons such as Max and myself with regards to the medical communities.

"Let's just say the world is unpredictable. Science is unreliable. It can't tell you who you are or what you'll want or how you'll feel. All these researchers are going crazy in their labs, trying to fit us into these little boxes... You have to be pretty into yourself to think you can play a part in defining the identity of a bunch of people you don't know, of human beings with complicated shit going on in their bodies. They still don't know what certain parts of our brains do, they still don't know how to cure a common cold, and they say they know about sexuality and gender. Well, you're not a man because you like football and you're not a woman because you're attracted to men and you're not not a chick because you like to be the one who gives and you're not not a dude because you like to receive or because sometimes you cry at dumb movies."

And then there's something that happens on the very last page of the book that caused by to gasp out loud when I read it. I wanted to put my arms around Max and comfort him and just be with him. It was one of the most moving passages I'd ever read.

There's much of Max's situation that's alien to me, and yet I feel I can relate in so many ways. And that is described by this other section from near the end, also from Max's point of view.

"I'm alive. It's a good thing. I'm glad about it. I'm intersex, and I'm coming to terms with that too. It makes me appreciate everything more, but it also makes me think about how much of our fates are set by chance, and how many little accidents had to happen to make me what and who I am."

Just replace the word "intersex" with "trans" and that's where I am with myself these days.

Ms. Tarttelin, I thank you. I didn't even know this was a book that I needed to read until I'd read it.

Mourning Gratefully

I'm currently reading Golden Boy by Abigail Tarttelin. I'm only about half-way through and I'm completely captivated.

SPOILER WARNING: You might want to not read any more of this post if you haven't read this book yet.

The book features a character who's pregnant and not happy about it. An adolescent character who's pregnant. As this character processes this situation and deals with it, I am reminded that I'll never be pregnant. I'll never be able to say to my mother, in distress or otherwise, "I'm pregnant." There was a time when I announced to my parents that my girlfriend was pregnant with my child, though that's not quite the same.

Again, I find myself mourning my lack of a womb, mourning another way in which being trans* has betrayed me.

However, I am grateful for the fact that I have not had to face the types of situations that the character in Golden Boy faces. I am grateful that I got to be a father, and that I still am a father though I'm a woman now. I'm grateful that, in some certain select ways, I've been able to be a mother of sorts.

So, I find myself mourning, but gratefully. Abigail Tarttelin, you are a masterful writer indeed, if you can inspire this strong a reaction in a reader who's only half-way through your book.

Where did the idea come from?

I get asked from time to time how I came up with the the idea for Waking for Hours . Well, the following vlog post describes just that.

doubleinvert: Where did the idea come from?

Learning Later

Years ago, I was in a situation very similar to that of Lucas in Tessa Masterson Will Go to Prom by Emily Franklin and Brendan Halpin.

SPOILER ALERT: I discuss details of this book. So if you haven't read it yet, close this blog post and go read the book. Then, come back to this blog.

At first, I couldn't really understand why Lucas was angry with Tessa. True, part of his anger seemed to be that he'd been publicly turned down and embarrassed. But that was only part of his anger. He was also upset because he felt that Tessa hadn't been honest with him. I didn't really get this part, until I began delving into my own memories.

I had four girlfriends (at different times, of course) during my high school years, long before my gender transition. Well, I thought of them as girlfriends. I'm pretty sure that three of them thought of me a boyfriend, but I wasn't certain about one of them. I'll refer to this girlfriend as J, as it was mostly during my junior year of high school when I was in love with her.

We were never officially a couple. In fact, I took a different girl to the Valentine's Dance and Prom that year, though we attended these things as friends and not really as dates.

By senior year, I was in love with the girl whom I would eventually marry, and it was around the time that we were officially declaring ourselves boyfriend-and-girlfriend that I learned J was lesbian.

Why hadn't she come out to me earlier? Like, before we made out those two times?

I remember being angry with J, even though I was in a relationship with my future bride. Looking back, I guess I felt much like Lucas did: I'd felt that J hadn't been honest with me. It was as if she didn't trust me with the truth.

I bring this up because Emily Franklin and Brendan Halpin did such a masterful job in portraying a relationship similar to the one I had with J. There are times when Tessa Masterson Will Go to Prom is heart-breaking to read because the reactions of all parties concerned seem so realistic.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and strongly recommend it!

"Luna" and "Almost Perfect": Running away is good?

I recently finished rereading both Almost Perfect by Brian Katcher and Luna by Julie Anne Peters. Both books are about teen male-to-female transsexual persons, and both are told from the points of view of persons close to the MTFs.

Almost Perfect is a book that observes an MTF transition from the point of view of a straight teen male, Logan, who falls in love with Sage. Upon learning Sage's "secret", Logan goes through a variety of reactions. He fails her more than once, but is there for her at a point when she needed it. He's even there for Sage's transphobic father, in a way. Luna observes an MTF transtion from the point of view of the younger sister, Regan, of a teen in transition (going from Liam to Luna).

In both books, the transitions are seen as sources of embarrassment by the narrators (Logan in Almost Perfect, and Regan in Luna). In Almost Perfect, Sage's father is embarrassed and even disgusted by the fact that the child he thought was his son was in fact his daughter.

Reading these from the point of view of a 43-year-old trans woman probably leads me to come to conclusions that will probably differ from those of the young adults who are the primary target audience. The reactions of the narrators and other characters of these books are emotionally taxing to read, because they seem so realistic. A cursory read of these books could suggest that those of us who seek to transition should be mindful of the harm we cause others. But a deeper reading suggests otherwise. Transition is not easy, and it's not something that persons like me undertake lightly.

But I can't help but think that this is something that could be a little clearer in these books. That message is there, but might have been clearer if these books were told from the points of view of the teens in transition.

One thing that realy struck me about both books (SPOILER ALERT!) is that in each case, Sage and Luna had to essentially run away to complete transition. Being a child of the 70s and 80s, my mind recoils at this because of all the lessons that had been drilled into me during my school years that one can't run away from one's problems. But for Sage and Luna, it was absolutely necessary.

I'm an adult with an established career, and I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. Both Almost Perfect and Luna take place in far less accepting and tolerant areas. My situation is vastly different than those of these fictional persons. Is it unfortunate that these books seem to suggest that running away is the best course of action for some trans youth? Or, is it more unfortunate that such situations are true?

If Sage and Luna lived in more accepting areas and had more accepting families, perhaps they would not have needed to run away to be themselves. Parents should read these books, even if they don't have trans kids, because we as parents don't get to choose the persons our children will grow to be. We as parents need to be there for our kids, regardless of how they might differ from what we want for them.

Did Sage and Luna really have to transition alone? Did they really have to leave their homes and friends behind to be true to themselves? These books would suggest so, and many of the trans persons I know would say the same thing. Many of them had been encouraged to leave if not outright thrown out when they started to transition or even just come out as trans.

Am I transitioning alone? Yes and no. I didn't run away, I was left instead. My former partner was straight and there didn't seem to be any way to make things work. But at the same time, I'm not alone. I've found a great many allies across the gender and romantic orientation spectra.

And allies are important here. Both Almost Perfect and Luna are told from the points of view of trans allies, even if Logan and Regan never set out to be allies in the first place. But the power of allies cannot be understated.

Allies help ensure that transition gets better.

The Duff: A Transwoman's Perspective

I recently finished rereading The Duff: Designated Ugly Fat Friend by Kody Keplinger.

The first time I read it was as an impulsive loan from my local library. I was there to pick up a different book (From the Notebooks of Melanin Sun by Jacqueline Woodson, another book I would strongly recommend), when the title of this book caught my eye. Good thing the book was on a display cart instead of filed in the stacks or I might not have found it. I enjoyed it so much, I bought the ebook for my Nook.

While there is nothing trans* or queer about this book (with the exception of a minor character who's gay), the book has much to say for persons who identify as trans* or queer.

I discuss some of the details of the story in this post. If you haven't read this book yet, you might want to avoid reading the rest of this post. But if you haven't read the book yet, you really should.

In Ms. Keplinger's book "the Duff" is a term used to describe the least attractive person in a group of friends: this "designated ugly fat friend." But the book also implies that a Duff can come in more than one body size and shape. So, we could remove one of the F's. Also, such a person isn't necessarily "ugly" but is just the least attractive of a group. So, we could redefine the U as "unattractive" or "under attractive". I'd even go so far as to change the D from "designated" to "dedicated" as the examples of Duffs presented in Ms. Keplinger's book usually seem to be quite dedicated to the others in their group, regardless of the dedication shown to or withheld from the Duff.

So, my term is Duf: Dedicated Under attractive Friend. As a transwoman, I can fully relate to this term as well as Ms. Keplinger's original Duff.

Being pre-op means that I'm somewhat caught between the genders, between the sexes. My physique not what someone would expect to find in a woman, even though a woman I am. I'm a Duf. The trans* youth I've encountered often seem to feel the same way, whether they're MTF like me or FTM. Some of us find ourselves in situations similar to The Duff's main character. We see a flawed-looking person in the mirror and wonder who would accept us in relationships. For those of us who had lost relationships because of our trans* status, it can be very easy to see monstrosity in the mirror. This is something I've encountered not so much among trans* youth, but in trans* adults. At least, that's been my experience so far.

So while trans* persons might not have been among the primary target audience for The Duff, I think it's a book that trans* persons of all ages could relate to.

Kudos, Ms. Keplinger! You've done a masterful job!