Twice a week, on average, my Twitter feed erupts in some sort of controversy. Like many activists, only "one side" of the issue appears in my feed, as I've constructed my twitterverse to be full of people whose thoughts, opinions, and interests are in concert with mine. I have plenty of avenues to read the thoughts of people I respect that I disagree with, so I don't bother cluttering my twitter feed with homophobic, antichoice, conservative, transphobic, racist, procensorship, or interventionist sorts unless I also happen to be friends with them. To be exposed to the opinions of people with whom I disagree, I need only read the newspaper, and if I want to be inundated with them, I can watch FOX News. My twitterverse is therefore a space where I want to hang out: comfortable, welcoming, inviting, interesting, and safer, if not always safe.
The most recent controversy that popped up on my feed is the controversy over Piers Morgan's initial interview with Janet Mock. The controversy has been extensively chronicled in the media, so I'll avoid rehashing it at length here. In short, Janet Mock objected to the way Piers Morgan framed her story as being the story of someone who was formerly a boy and man and became a woman the moment she had vaginoplasty in Thailand. Janet Mock's fan base got defensive and attacked Piers Morgan, calling him transphobic, and telling him he owed all trans* [sic] people everywhere an apology. Piers Morgan objected to the criticism, accused Janet Mock of orchestrating abuse of him, and cited an article to justify his framing that she had been a man that Janet Mock did not write herself and critiques in the book,
Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Indentity, Love & So Much More, which she was on the show to promote. Morgan painted Mock as someone who was out to destroy his reputation, said that she did not object at the time, and repeated that he is a supporter of transgender rights. Morgan's painting of the controversy fed into mainstream cultural narrative of transgender women: that they are deceptive, as did his overemphasis on Mock's coming out to her romantic partner, insinuating that if she had chosen not to do so, she would be a liar - a man trying to deceive another man into believing that he is a woman. I do not believe Morgan meant to feed into this myth, but I also don't believe he did enough to avoid its presumptions. Because of the controversy, Morgan invited Mock back to the show. In the second interview, he asked her why he was being villified, what he did that could be interpreted as offensive, and why she did not object initially if she had a problem. She explained (over and over) that she was assigned male at birth, she never identified as a boy or a man, she did not object initially because she was appreciative of the opportunity and scared about how an objection would be taken, and she reiterated that she did not villify Morgan. She called him an ally and asserted the importance of him getting it right because of his platform as an ally. She advised that we follow how trans women identify in order to describe them, rather than projecting our own assumptions on how they must identify or feel. Morgan could not understand what a trans woman of color could possibly find scary about a straight white man. The interview had several interruptions, but by the end, Mock seems to have communicated that there is a difference between sex and gender, if not that there was a power dynamic that made her fear of speaking out at the time justified. While
Redefining Realness is primarily about intersectionality, and Mock has stated that she cannot live a single identity, Morgan still reduces her appearance to a coming-out narrative and did not let her talk about the book. Both interviews seem as though the questions were prepared only from the
Marie Claire piece about Mock rather than a read of her book.
If Morgan had stopped after the second interview, it would have been an amazing thing for both of them. Mock had the opportunity to explain what she found problematic, and Morgan had the opportunity to frame himself as an ally, trying to do his best to be supportive, and trying to understand if and how he failed so as not to repeat the mistakes. However, then there was a panel, in which Ben Ferguson asserted that Mock was a man and boy and Amy Holmes said that the only reason that Mock appeared on Morgan's show is because she is trans (not, for example, that she had written a book as part of her activism). While Morgan did a good job containing and reiterating what he had learned in closing the panel, there was no reason to have the panel for him to acknowledge he had learned something new.
Other than his insistence that he is a victim in the situation and his defensive stance, Morgan did exactly what allies should do: he asked questions, he listened, and he learned. Mock, for her part, did exactly what she should do: she spoke up when she felt able that something an ally had done bothered her, and she patiently explained why while reiterating her understand of him as a supportive person. As far as apologies are concerned, I don't believe anybody ever owes anybody an apology. An apology is an expression of remorse for wrongdoing. If Morgan wishes to apologize to Mock for mischaracterizing her story unintentionally, he is free to do so, and if Morgan wishes to apologize to his viewing public for not treating a guest in the most respectful manner possible, he may do so. As far as all transfolk everywhere? The fault there lies with society, not with Piers Morgan. We must give our allies the benefit of the doubt when they misstep.
Back to my Twitter feed: I felt alone, even though I'm not alone. I identify as a man, but I have not always. I used to identify as a woman, and I used to identify as girl. I was never a boy. Sure, I was a tomboy, and that led to many trying to impose the identity butch on me, but tomboy is a fundamentally girly gender expression. I owned it. I was the girl who liked sports. I was the girl who could spit farther than most boys. I was the gamer, the geek, the stagehand, the techie. I had Shirley Temple curls past my shoulders, wore mostly flannels and birkenstocks, and took pride at being able to get along with the men better than with other women. was the kid who wanted to be an astronaut because Sally Ride's story inspired me (and also space is cool). I still answer the curious question, "I didn't know women wear yarmulkes" with a strategic explanation that outside of Orthodoxy many women choose to. I joke that it took me so long to come out as a man because I wanted to be Julie Silver whe I grew up. I still do, by the way. I was raised on feminist literature and feminist ideals, and the women and men in my life emphasized the amazing women in the world. I still took many of the amazing women in my life, particularly many of my early teachers, for granted. I looked forward to joining their ranks. My eulogy for my grandpa was about his support of me growing into a strong woman. Then my identity crashed. As I learned more and more about the way the lens of gender is constructed, I learned that I my conceptions of my gendered self don't match how femininity has been constructed or how feminine masculinity has been constructed, and "woman" became too uncomfortable a term. So I stopped using it. For a while, I tried to be outside the constructed gender binary, but I identified with particular kinds of masculine constructions of gender identity, and I ended up feeling that the box "man" is broad enough to include me. When I identify as a man, people see me for me, and I can interact without the gender dysphoria I used to have. When I identified as a woman, my masculinity was the most important, visible aspect of my identity. Now, as an effeminate man, neither my effeminacy nor my masculinity stands out. I sometimes am read as a butch woman, sometimes as a gay man, sometimes as delightfully androgynous (and therefore genderqueer - another problematic assumption), sometimes as a queer man, and very rarely as a straight man. When I talk about the times in my life when I identified as a girl or a woman, I use feminine pronouns for myself, and when I talk about times since I stopped identifying that way I use masculine pronouns for myself. This sometimes shocks the people I'm around; I've been known to make jaws drop when I say I used to be a Girl Scout. Being socialized to be a girl and become a woman is an important aspect of my identity. I don't compartmentalize me, and I know that it grants me a queer perspective compared to other men. When trans activists claimed to speak for me that the language Morgan used would be wrong for any trans person, they were wrong, and they made me feel like my narrative wasn't valid.
Allies, haters, the indifferent, and trans activists should not discount my story because there are people who have always identified with a gender that does not match the sex they were assigned. By being open about having been a girl and a woman, I am being true to myself at those times. By identifying as a man, I let my gender presentation fade into the background, so I get to interact on a level that takes my gender as a given instead of a question. And isn't that what Janet Mock wants for herself?
