Society has a seething obsession for everything that breeds limits: categories, labels, definitions, norms. Intangible stoppers. Imagined walls. From a practical point of view, these limits are necessary to maintain order. The problem, however, lies in society’s inclination for confinement. We tend to put too much faith in givens that, when alternatives and other possibilities turn up, we either crouch back in irrational fear or launch headfirst in irrational hostility. This overblown faith in givens is manifested in heteronormativity-- in the binary gender system, in strict and razor-sharp definitions of masculinity, femininity, and now, even of homo, bi and trans-sexuality.
Matt Kailey’s Just Add Hormones: An Insider’s Guide to the Transsexual Experience challenges society’s predisposition towards restrictions and restrictiveness. In less than two hundred pages, Kailey gives an extensive and occasionally hilarious walkthrough of his experiences, plights, and views as a gay transsexual. A tricky part of discussing LGBTQ experiences and issues, especially in first person, is that one might get too self-absorbed and end up passing what’s personal off as the general--thereby hurting (instead of upholding) diversity, a byword of LGBTQ movements. Kailey dodges this trap by being clear about what is and what is not his. And that’s not without being relatable. His insistence on similarities amid differences, for one, makes the book speak even to non-transpeople.
What I find most laudable about Just Add Hormones is what I also consider to be the best evidence of its being relatable: its use of simple language. Throughout the book, Kailey stresses the importance of educational dialogue in making our world a more livable place for transpeople (and the rest of non-heterosexuals, for that matter). Not only does light and unassuming language get the book’s substance right across, it also creates the impression that, contrary to popular belief, transpeople’s lives can be grasped and understood just as possibly as other lives out there.
The order in which the book’s points were organized and presented simulates a transsexual’s journey from the cumbersome, hormone-driven adjustment phases to the rather transcendence/cause-oriented post transition. The first parts open one’s eyes to realities that transpeople have to face every day: DSM’s pathologization of transsexuality (through the manual’s listing down of the category as Gender Identity Disorder or GID), the difficulties of self-identification and social interaction for those who are passing by the so-called Gray Zone, and the ups and downs of taking hormones. There are at least a couple of things to learn from these discussions. First, that transition is more complex and delicate than it is generally understood. One of the hardest parts of transitioning, I realize, is going through adolescence again at the time of adult responsibilities and steeper expectations. I can only wonder how this part can be worsened by gender discrimination and oppression. Another thing to keep in mind is that changes do not happen overnight. Physical and physiological changes (i.e. the effect of injected hormones) take several days. And that’s not even accounting for the emotional and psychological adjustments that go with the changes, which are also changes in themselves.
But transsexual experiences, I believe, comprise only a portion of Just Add Hormones. Way beyond being “An Insider’s Guide to the Transsexual Experience”, the book can be anybody’s guide to understanding the ways by which society and certain social constructs operate, as well as to coming to terms with the incongruence of sexual orientation and gender identity. Kailey’s discussions of society’s puffed up fascination with female breasts and male phallus actually had me rationalizing such fascination to myself. Part of the reason, I believe, has to do with the hype and attention that the media afford the mentioned body parts (through the “ideal bodies” that the said sector disseminates and glorifies). As a media scholar (and occasional practitioner), I can attest to the media industry’s unapologetic nonchalance towards its manufacturing of reductive and alienating ideals. Regrettably, though, media representation issues are shrugged off (in passive acceptance, that is) within the industry just as much as they are lambasted in the academe. It is also important to note that, most of the time, tinkering with representations lies beyond the power of an ordinary media practitioner. Somehow, Kailey was right in pointing a finger to media’s being driven by advertising revenues. No matter how badly certain media practitioners want to cater to the underrepresented (instead of settling with cut-and-dried images or stereotypes), program sponsors are people who are trained not to gamble; in wooing and buying audiences, they’d rather stick with traditional, “tried-and-tested” (but actually dated) methods. Most of them fail to see audiences as critical and dynamic.
Still in regard to the book’s discussion of society: I appreciate how Kailey doesn’t wash his hands clean of qualified subscription or falling victim to the social ideals and norms that he criticizes. By not being self-righteous, he puts into light another unpopular reality: that discrimination and hatred exist even within homo, bi, and trans communities. Akin to this recognition of complexity is his underscoring of diversity and intersectionality-- of LGBTQ’s varied interests and affiliations, and his acknowledgement of gender’s being only one of the possibly incalculable identities out there.
Beyond the realm of the personal, Just Add Hormones’ theoretical strength lies in its presentation of the divide between sexual orientation and gender identity. I believe that anyone who reads the book will eventually get on to asking: why, in the first place, is there a need to reconcile the two? Kailey’s being both gay and trans contributed the most to the effectiveness of the book’s exposition of the SO-GI incongruence. At the risk of seeming naive, I find Kailey’s self-label--“gay transman”--peculiar. This is the first time that I have come across someone who chose to transition without being formerly attracted to the opposite sex. The common notion is that transpeople embark on transitioning to fend off the guilt that same-sex intercourse brings about-- a notion that assumes all transpeople to be hapless slaves of heteronormativity. Just Add Hormones effectively pounds this notion to smithereens.
One thing that struck me was the fact that Kailey chose to transition with the knowledge that, by doing so, he would affirm DSM’s diagnosis of him. It must be awfully tricky, believing that there’s nothing wrong about you but still choosing to undergo something that is professionally considered a “cure”, all because it’s the only way you could become yourself. It’s like pleading not guilty of a crime but still choosing to go to prison. I believe in free will and in having multiple options, but with society’s obsession with “providing diagnoses”, I guess we really don’t have much to choose from, after all. Or better still, I guess everything is really just a matter of perspective.
Despite Kailey’s identity (which struck me as peculiar) and views (which lean towards changing society, doing away with heteronormativity, and the like), I do not see him on the extreme end of radicalism, towards which, I would like to think, my views regarding sex and gender are bent. He believes in a “core personality”, in “similar issues, wants, desires, and dreams”. The way I see it, Kailey stands somewhere between assimilationism and queer, on what I used to regard as a rather “safe” position. But to map out and to sling crap at the stance in question are to miss the point. If there’s one thing that the book makes known, it’s that we really don’t need clear-cut categories and definite answers, if having them meant closing the doors of our understanding. We needn’t confine ourselves within givens, if doing so meant unreasonably negating unpopular labels, and if doing so meant categorically denying the existence of still-unborn possibilities.