trans

Diagnosing Difference

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders is referred to as “the Bible” by the psychologists and psychiatrists who utilize it to diagnosis and treat patients. A project of the American Psychiatric Association, the DSM was first published in 1952 and subsequently revised in 1968, 1980, 1987, 1994, and 2000; the forthcoming 2012 edition is currently in formation. If you’re feeling bored, dear reader, let me cut to the chase and tell you why this all matters.

As feminists well know—hello, hysteria!—a diagnosis of mental disability may simply be an accusation of difference or a punishment for refusing to comply with political, economic, aesthetic, or social demands. Diagnosis is not always, if ever, a neutral process. It is, instead, a process of translating behaviors (such as homosexuality or sexual fetishism) into identities (“deviants” or “perverts”). Paying attention to the historic and political context within which the DSM operates reveals not simply the prevalence of bias, but the fallacy of objectivity in social scientific inquiry.

Diagnosing Difference, directed by queer, clinical psychologist Annalise Ophelian, tackles the politics of diagnosis and the impact of Gender Identity Disorder (GID) on transgender and gender non-conforming individuals. The full-length documentary features interviews with trans-identified mental health professionals, activists, and scholars who speak to the burden of GID. Dylan Scholinski, for example, recounts being forcibly locked up in a mental hospital at age 15 for being “an inappropriate female.”

Public health advocates Willy Wilkinson, Cecilia Chung, and Renata J. Razza discuss the importance of re-educating health care providers with culturally competent and trans-positive information. The GID diagnosis, which is often required before doctors will administer hormones or provide gender reassignment surgery and government agencies will legally change a person’s name or sex on a driver’s license or birth certificate, does not represent the experience of many trans people. The GID criteria demands an individual unambiguously live and present as their “opposite” gender and deny any affiliation with their gender assigned at birth.

However, even the varied identities of transgender, transexual, gender queer, gender variant, and so on testify to the multiplicity of gender expressions beyond simply man or woman. The GID diagnosis reifies gender norms, privatizing gender variance as a “problem” for individuals. As Pauline Park, trans activist and founder of the New York Association for Gender Rights Advocacy, often remarks, “I don’t have a Gender Identity Disorder; society does.”

Diagnosing Difference builds an important bridge between mental health professionals and community advocates, and participates in the growing GID-reform movement. The documentary is a vital project for educators, public health advocates, social workers, and doctors, and anyone interested in the gender politics.

Written by: Jeanne Vaccaro, January 1st 2010

You’ve Changed: Sex Reassignment and Personal Identity

admin — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 16:26:00 +0000

Edited by Laurie J. Shrage

Oxford University Press

Each essay in Laurie J. Shrage’s collection, You've Changed, takes on the challenge of analyzing the philosophical, cultural, and psychological dimensions of the—for lack of a better or more acute concept—umbrella category of “trans” identity. This same challenge, which underlines the collection’s creation, is the same challenge that often times handicaps its clarity and ultimate success. The breadth of scope of the volume on “trans” identities is awe-inspiring, but simultaneously hinders the conceptual clarity of many of the concepts discussed within the essays: “trans,” used primarily as an identity prefix, is applied indiscriminately, and, frequently inconsistently, to gender, sex, and sexuality throughout the essays. The difficulty, from the reader’s perspective, is the inability to grasp exactly, with precision, what—philosophical, phenomenological, or physical—concept the author is referring to in their his/her essay. Each author attempts to map out the concepts that they he/she engages with in their his/her essay, but the lack of conceptual consistency and coherence within each essay, and among the essays collectively, creates readerly confusion (for even the most adept of gender studies scholars!).

Take, for instance, the first essay of the volume, Christine Overall’s “Sex/Gender Transitions and Life-Changing Aspirations.” Overall logically begins the essay by laying out the terms of her discussion of transitioning. She writes, “I use the general term ‘trans’ to refer to individuals who go through changes from man to woman or woman to man, deliberately glossing over the differences among transgendered and transsexual individuals.” She then goes on to explain, that “gender is the presentation or identification (or both) of self as being a woman or a man or some permutation thereof. By ‘sex’, [she] mean[s] (human) female and male, as well as (human) femaleness and (human) maleness,” and delimits “femaleness” and “maleness” by “the presence of the genitalia standardly associated with each.” The first “gloss” is logically productive in that it allows Overall to employ “trans” to refer to any form of “transitioning” that an individual may experience in her life. However, the following clause, which seems an attempt at specification, only problematizes the concepts of gender and sex, which clouds the productive function of the “trans” prefix, and which is apparent by the author’s continual untangling of “gender” and “sex” throughout the essay.

Overall’s essay, like all essays in the volume, is praiseworthy for its sophisticated and serious effort. Gayle Salamon’s essay, “The Sexual Schema: Transposition and Transgender in Phenomenology of Perception,” is particularly brilliant for its appraisal of Merleau-Ponty’s text and how it manages to illustrate how Merleau-Ponty’s work in general—once shunned for being too “airy-fairy,” poetical, or qualitative—proves quite useful to discussions of trans identities.

Written by: Marcie Bianco, October 2nd 2009

He Likes Guys

admin — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 23:29:00 +0000

Directed by Various Directors

Wolfe Video

As a member of my college cinema club, I would show a film a couple of nights every month. Usually, the featured movie would be preceded by a surprise short film—nothing too long, but always something entertaining. Recently, I showed "Laundromat" by Edward Gunawan from a collection of acclaimed gay short films, He Likes Guys, to my unsuspecting audience. Little did I know that the DVD's menu page featuring a buff torso would draw a variety of gasps—some amused, some more ambivalent, and even a rather repulsed, “Whaaat?!”

Fortunately, "Laundromat" (2007, 13 mins) promised nothing loaded with hackneyed gay stereotypes. In this smile-inducing drama, newly-cohabiting couple Lawrence and Joey bicker over their differences when doing the laundry. Their squabble later gets the attention of an elderly man who teaches them a small but profound lesson in the value of love, life and relationships. So far, so Zen-like.

Another short film that I felt moved by was "Traces" (2008, 19 mins). Directed by Rachel Zisser, "Traces" examines the tragic side of trans acceptance (or rather the lack thereof.) After seeing his handsome college-going son off at the airport, a father is shocked to hear of his son critically injured in a car accident some miles away from home. Arriving at the hospital too late, he is shown the body of his son, in women's clothing and bewigged. He is later consumed by a desire to piece together his late son's hidden identity, using different objects once belonged to his son that eventually lead him to uncover not only a secret double life but also a man who had stood between them for years.

The mixed response from the audience at the prospect of watching a film with gay themes that night says a lot about the position of homosexuality in the margins of cinematic discourse. But He Likes Guys is an anthology with an important social message at its heart. Part of the pleasure of watching the mini social commentaries is attributed to the film-makers' measured use of thought-provoking drama and humour to humanise gay culture. Perhaps the only weakness can be found right at the beginning—in the first short film, "Steam" (2008) by Damien Rea. At (mercifully) three minutes long, it is effectively a music video and an exercise in male objectification—a bland starter to the far superior films that are definitely worth a watch.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, April 21st 2009

Drifting Flowers

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 17:34:00 +0000

Directed by Zero Chou

3rd Production Films

In the film Drifting Flowers, director Zero Chou brings together three stories of lesbian love and camaraderie. In the first, the audience is presented with May, a young girl who is confronted with the need to guide her blind older sister, Jing, while envying her sister's relationship with Diego.

The second story is a sharp turn from the youthful innocence of May to the addled mind of Lily. Lily married a gay friend, Yen, in her youth, and each lives their own life; now older, Yen has reentered her life. The two, who in the passage of years had been left by their lovers, come to provide support for each other as Lily descends into the dark of Alzheimer’s and Yen is afflicted by AIDS.

In another quick shift, the third segment tells Diego’s story at long last. Diego is by far the most interesting of the three studies. Beginning before Ying and May in Diego’s hometown, the segment and Diego are asked the thesis of the film: “Are you a boy or a girl?” Diego answers, “A girl.” Yet, she is uncertain of her answer. Unwilling to wear bras, binding her breasts, Diego is uncertain who she is, while being certain of what she wants.

Uncertainty is the dominant theme of this film, epitomized by the question of being female while not being traditionally feminine. Doubt in one’s self, doubt in one’s society, and an inability to accept what you know to be true are primal to this dilemma. Each of the women comes to seek her place in society, be it through feigned conformity, resignation, or flight; however, this is not a movie about social change.

As a result the segmentation only exacerbates the unrest, and then exacerbates the viewer, as an hour and a half begins to feel like three. The segmented and taciturn structure of the film is strung together by the accordion music which at times haunts and at times revives each narrative, and narrowly avoids giving its audience a collective migraine. Ultimately, Drifting Flowers is about how lives often explode too softly into the night, as the movie itself implodes in the light of day.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, March 12th 2009

Against a Trans Narrative

admin — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 18:27:00 +0000

Directed by Jules Rosskam

I did not know what exactly to expect when I inserted Against a Trans Narrative into my DVD player. Anticipating its arrival, I ran a brief Google search on the film and found myself at the official website, which seemed intentionally ambiguous.

About an hour later, I realized that Against a Trans Narrative was arguably the best movie about gender I’ve ever viewed. It’s remarkably intelligent, sensitive and powerful. A documentary that presents contesting views about gender issues, transgender identity, queer and lesbian politics, and how all of the above play out in real life, it's a captivating and educational watch. The film is a collection of dialogues—a number of small groups in intimate settings gather around a monitor and view and react to various skits. These skits range from a couple in which one of the partners is transitioning from female to male, conversations with real people who are or have transitioned genders, and personal narratives from people who identify as such. Interspersed among segments are bold spoken word performances from Willy Wilkinson.

The filmmakers made an active and conscious attempt to diversify those whose opinions are voiced, as showcased by the differing generations, races, genders, and ethnicities of the participants in these dialogues. For example, one of the focus groups consists primary of college aged youth, while another is an older generation who experienced and was active in the Womanist movement of the 1970s. (I appreciated this very much!)

One of the most amazing things about this film is that it skillfully and without accusation casts the spotlight on the viewer to ask them the same questions as the participants. It challenges one to reconsider their thoughts and opinions on gender, sex, and relationships with the implication that we all have feelings on the subject which inevitably inform the way we understand and relate to people. In this sense, Against a Trans Narrative is very successful in creating dialogue; while a simple goal, it’s often difficult to achieve.

Written by: Yujean Park, February 23rd 2009

Hello, Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks and Other Outlaws

admin — Sat, 31 Mar 2007 17:28:00 +0000

By Kate Bornstein

Seven Stories Press

Kate Bornstein has for two decades inspired fans and readers by mixing feminist sensibility, queer theory, performance art and personal experience. That Hello, Cruel World is heart-felt and friendly reflects parentage by Lutheran minister and 1939’s Miss Betty Crocker. Aimed more at tranpeople and freaks than at gays and lesbians, it addresses sickness in the American family, stifling conventions of compulsory heterosexuality and mean-spirited republicanism fostered by James Dobson and Pat Robertson, but not disavowed by Mary Cheney.

This “gender outlaw” was born in Fargo, North Dakota as Al Bornstein, but completed sexual reassignment surgery in 1986. Ze published hir theoretical autobiography, Gender Outlaw, in 1994 and My Gender Workbook in 1997, which used paradoxes and puzzles to transcend sex- and gender-binaries.

Part One of Hello, Cruel World takes “either/or” and twists it Möbius strip-style into “neither/both.” Ze combines snappy prose with kitschy graphics in this user-friendly, impressively edited little handbook to save teens from self-mutilation and suicide, rates among which are shooting through the roof. Faced also with poverty, bullying and religious conservatism, teenagers have never faced grimmer futures, but neither have they been supported more in and by popular culture. Aiming less to bend than to obliterate gender, Bornstein tosses off one-line, throwaway summaries of 19th-century suffragette movements and 20th-century gay, lesbian and bisexual activists. Their grasp never matches their reach: “it seems, in Minnie Bruce Pratt’s words, ‘their imaginations were in thrall to the institutions that oppress them,’” a mantra ze repeats. “You are worthy and capable of finding a way just to live your life the way you really are,” ze reminds hir readers, and “there are plenty of good people in the world who believe that a life like yours need to be lived.” Indeed.

Part Two’s “Start-up Guide” employs a “Cruel Scale of Feelings” that lists healthy and less healthy, self- and other-destructive emotions, ranging from “joy, wisdom,” “love, freedom” and “passion” to fear, depression and hopelessness. Hir 101 alternatives to suicide are ranked in terms of safety, efficacy and legal and moral concerns. The only no-no is being mean to others. “Starve yourself” (Alternative 81), “Be orgasmically celibate” (Alternative 56), “Tell a lie” (Alternative 11) and 98 others are proposed with love and good heart to keep suffering people from letting the bullies, republicans and homophobes win.

Written by: Lawrence James Hammar, Ph.D., March 31st 2007

Trans/forming Feminisms: Trans-Feminist Voices Speak Out

admin — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 13:06:00 +0000

Edited by Krista Scott-Dixon

Sumach Press

Krista Scott-Dixon’s collection, Trans/forming Feminisms: Transfeminist Voices Speak Out blending gender theory and a remarkable range of personal narratives, provides a powerful, complex and deeply moving introduction to a relatively neglected and misunderstood area of feminist study: the experiences, gendered multiplicity, personal and social struggles, and the touching humanity of people identified—for lack of a better term—as trans.

The book thoroughly explodes the dualistic conception of gender, reviews research into the “constructedness” of our gendered identities and demonstrates dramatically some of the diverse ways in which gender is made manifest. Carefully produced and edited, Trans/forming Feminisms ought to be snatched up by women’s and gender studies instructors—it will be a terrific addition to introductory classes, but it should also resonate with all of those who are willing to entertain the idea that the human world is not divided tidily into female and male.

Like many scholars who see critical theory as a central part of their professional mission, the editor invokes bell hooks’ understanding of theory as a “location for healing.” To theorize trans identity and experience is to take steps towards challenging oppression, towards understanding and complicating a central part of our identities. She rejects a facile embrace of trans identity among non-trans sympathizers (“it’s hip to be trans; maybe I’m trans, too”), and the narratives are as painful as they are celebratory.

The legal and ethical issues the book raises such as events and organizations with “womyn-born womyn only” policies or “no penis” policies similarly resist easy answers or sloganeering, but reveal the complex and uncertain alliance between self-described feminists and trans people. Just how inclusive have feminist organizations been? Can exclusivity be a legitimate strategy?

The terms used to categorize different identities, different understandings of sexual selves, are messy, overlapping, ambiguous—an indication that the theory is new, and that exploration of trans experience is still in its formative stages. While metaphors such as gender-bending or a gendered continuum have been useful constructs, names for the wide variety of gendered expression can be baffling: genderqueers, birls, FTMs and MTFs—the categorical language seems inadequate. And yet labels, however damaging they can be in one sense, afford a kind of group identity and can have explanatory and healing power. Dixon’s book might be the most accessible and potentially influential treatment this subject has yet received.

Written by: Rick Taylor, January 19th 2007