firm on any one theory, however I’m leaning toward the idea that just like in nature where animals have been documented having sex with the same gender, humans can do the same. And just like in animals the majority of the population will choose to have sex with the opposite sex, and aminority will go the other way. As far as transgender goes, I’m sure there are animals that wish they were born a different gender, but so far only humans have the ability to actually change this. I’m not sure, but I don’t think in the animal world you get your ass kicked or are an outcast if you’re caught having sex with the same-gender animal like humans do.
ME: Would you rather be a garbage man or a pest control worker?
MY BROTHER: I am a garbage man already. It’s just the garbage I pick up happens to be human. To more directly answer your question, I think I would want to be a garbage man because I hate spiders.
ME: What’s worse, being adopted or being transgender?
MY BROTHER: Well, I don’t know. I don’t consider either a bad thing at all. I had no choice in my adoption, and I suppose it’s the same with you.
_______________________________
1. My brother is an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.
2. By “trannies and gays” I’m pretty sure he means hyper-effeminate males and cross-dressers, or what some people refer to as “transvestites,” that is, people who are not transsexual FTMs or MTFs. I think he might even include drag queens in this group.
3. (Oh, how I debated whether or not to stick a footnote here. Looks like I did… My book: my rules!) For fuck’s sake, I do not want or expect anybody to alter their memories of the past, with or without me in it. Just because I wish to be referred to as male later in life as an adult doesn’t mean that my entire early life has been eclipsed. The truth is, I probably wouldn’t erase or change much about my past at all. I’m probably one of the lucky ones; that is, I wasn’t miserable my whole early life, feeling born in the wrong body, blah blah blah. I’m not saying it was always easy—of course it wasn’t—but I am saying that you can remember the past, talk about the past, even celebrate the past, yet still remain respectful of somebody’s all-grown-up, new and improved wishes and present-life situation.
People can and should have their own memories, just like I have mine. But if I looked a certain way to you in those memories, if you have decided I was something in your memories, just understand that that is your constructed experience, not necessarily mine. I don’t really understand why memories have to be gendered anyway, why they are threatened because I am different now than I was in memories then. I’m the same person, the same soul; I just went through some changes. All people change as they age.
If you want to tell my kids a story about me when I was a kid—like when I got in trouble for writing a letter full of curse words (really bad ones) and putting it in Libby Sparks’ mailbox eight doors down, or how I could never learn to spell beacause [sic] or fasion [sic]—then by all means, go ahead and tell them. They’ll love it. Just try to use my preferred gender marker, he, which is what I am. I don’t think those stories—or any stories, really—depend entirely on my perceived gender at the time.
And one more thing while I’m on a tear: My choices are not meant to be an affront to anybody else. In fact, they’re not about anybody else. People can keep their memories of me and don’t have to change anything about them. But if folks wish to be respectful of me and in my life nowadays, then they should refer to me as what I am when they talk about me, up and down the timeline of life. It’s really pretty simple. And if it’s not, refer back to “A Few Words About Pronouns” on page 53. And if it’s still not, then I don’t really know what else to say.
THE THIN BLUE LINE
D EXTER W ARD IS A forty-eight-year-old
ME: Would you rather be a garbage man or a pest control worker?
MY BROTHER: I am a garbage man already. It’s just the garbage I pick up happens to be human. To more directly answer your question, I think I would want to be a garbage man because I hate spiders.
ME: What’s worse, being adopted or being transgender?
MY BROTHER: Well, I don’t know. I don’t consider either a bad thing at all. I had no choice in my adoption, and I suppose it’s the same with you.
_______________________________
1. My brother is an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.
2. By “trannies and gays” I’m pretty sure he means hyper-effeminate males and cross-dressers, or what some people refer to as “transvestites,” that is, people who are not transsexual FTMs or MTFs. I think he might even include drag queens in this group.
3. (Oh, how I debated whether or not to stick a footnote here. Looks like I did… My book: my rules!) For fuck’s sake, I do not want or expect anybody to alter their memories of the past, with or without me in it. Just because I wish to be referred to as male later in life as an adult doesn’t mean that my entire early life has been eclipsed. The truth is, I probably wouldn’t erase or change much about my past at all. I’m probably one of the lucky ones; that is, I wasn’t miserable my whole early life, feeling born in the wrong body, blah blah blah. I’m not saying it was always easy—of course it wasn’t—but I am saying that you can remember the past, talk about the past, even celebrate the past, yet still remain respectful of somebody’s all-grown-up, new and improved wishes and present-life situation.
People can and should have their own memories, just like I have mine. But if I looked a certain way to you in those memories, if you have decided I was something in your memories, just understand that that is your constructed experience, not necessarily mine. I don’t really understand why memories have to be gendered anyway, why they are threatened because I am different now than I was in memories then. I’m the same person, the same soul; I just went through some changes. All people change as they age.
If you want to tell my kids a story about me when I was a kid—like when I got in trouble for writing a letter full of curse words (really bad ones) and putting it in Libby Sparks’ mailbox eight doors down, or how I could never learn to spell beacause [sic] or fasion [sic]—then by all means, go ahead and tell them. They’ll love it. Just try to use my preferred gender marker, he, which is what I am. I don’t think those stories—or any stories, really—depend entirely on my perceived gender at the time.
And one more thing while I’m on a tear: My choices are not meant to be an affront to anybody else. In fact, they’re not about anybody else. People can keep their memories of me and don’t have to change anything about them. But if folks wish to be respectful of me and in my life nowadays, then they should refer to me as what I am when they talk about me, up and down the timeline of life. It’s really pretty simple. And if it’s not, refer back to “A Few Words About Pronouns” on page 53. And if it’s still not, then I don’t really know what else to say.
THE THIN BLUE LINE
D EXTER W ARD IS A forty-eight-year-old
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