Beyond the closet
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| Stephanie Moga A woman and a writer trying to find her voice. Mystic. Radical Gender activist. Self-destructive pain in the ass. |
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Years ago, I was an extra in Verdi’s opera, Aida. It is set in Egypt, and the male and female extras were required to line their eyes with black eyeliner. So I am doing my eyes next to a man about my age, and he turns to me and says, “I have never put on makeup before. Am I gay now?”
I replied: “Do you like to go home and have sex with your wife? Are you having sex with men”?
Wearing makeup will not make you gay. But, worrying about it, that’s the patriarchy we live in.
Last weekend my best friend and I went to a ‘ghouls night out,’ a dance for transgender and gender non-conforming folks. In the end, we were the only two out, full-time transgender women there. The people were friendly, but it was not my crowd. As a writer, I took it as an opportunity to learn more about the cross-dressing community since I have been ‘out of the loop.’
For many attendees, it was their one and only chance to get out and dressed in feminine attire all year. In my 20s, I lived on my own in the big city. For me, Halloween was the cross-dresser’s “Holy day of obligation.” It was the chance to walk out the door in a dress and not be asked what I was wearing. Or maybe at least it lowered the possibility that I would be harassed. It was one night of relative safety.
I spoke to the sponsor of the event, Scarlett T., about the main motivation of these folks to attend a function like this, and she said: “ It’s not about finding community or making connections.”
“It’s about finding a safe place to express their femininity.”
Can you imagine living your life and worrying so much about expressing your truth because you don’t have a safe place to do so?
The masculine culture is so fragile. Many men have been raised to see the slightest bit of femininity as abhorrent. Men police themselves; men police other men for any violations of 100% guy. Long before I came out, I posted on Facebook that I bake cookies with my kids, and some bro replied, “that’s because I was gay.” Seriously? If connecting with your kids meant I was queer, I was happy to accept that label. Queer me up, baby. The grip of the patriarchy is painfully tenuous and so so desperately tight.
I have known crossdressers who kept it all completely under wraps for decades. Separating from their male lives, they rented a storage unit, dressed only on business trips and in hotel rooms, and kept it out of sight from their spouse and family. It’s clean and compartmentalized. You live one life here; you live a different life there. And yet, I know many who would have transitioned if there was/is greater social acceptance.
The LGBTQ community is not exactly the most welcoming place. Some folks fit into the norms of what’s acceptable, but there are a lot of folks who are not exactly welcomed with open arms. The cross-dressing community is one of those groups. As the acceptability of being transgender has risen, crossdressing has become more marginalized. As attacks on trans folks have increased, there has been the tendency to say, “I am not a pervert; I identify as a woman.”
Staying in the closet is a painfully easy way to go.
I know being in the closet hurts. How could it not? How could you not feel conflicted when part of you stays in a box, and you dust it off once a year? It made me crazy. It made me suicidal.
I understand there’s an appeal to keeping your male privilege, male friends, beautiful spouse, secure job, and standing as a respectable community member. Why give those things up? Why walk away from all that? These men can still go to the bar with their friends, hear homophobic jokes, and go on hunting and fishing trips with the guys. Their father-in-law, employers, clients, bosses, and sometimes even their spouses think they are just regular guys.
And the fact of the matter is, they are just regular guys.
The question is: could society ever see them as such?
Right here on Medium, I recently was called a “gender non-conforming male” by a lovely anonymous TERF. Now, I think crossdressers are gender non-conforming males. When you give up your male card and live out and visible in the world, you become something entirely different. Ask those employers who refused to hire me. Tell it to the people who refused to rent to me. Tell it to the divorce court judge. It’s not the same.
And yet, I would never go back into that luxuriously appointed closet I came out of. And I sympathize with those who must abide by the rigid constructs of masculine society and constantly prove that they are man enough. It’s a shame that cross-dressing is as stigmatized as ever.
If I could add a short P.S.
I realize that it is toxic attitudes from both cis males and females that keep people in the closet. Don’t tell me that there aren’t women who prefer that their partners stay in the closet out of shame, discomfort, and embarrassment to be married to that…
God, I can relate to so much of this. That constant effort to blend just enough femininity into daily life to feel real, but still hold onto some sense of “normalcy”? That’s been my life for a while now. And yeah… I’m pretty sure a few people have figured it out too.
ReplyDeleteI know I belong in the LGBTQ community—but I always feel like I’m on the edges. Not quite trans enough for some spaces, but not quite like most other crossdressers either. I’m not trying to be sexy. I’m not doing it for pictures. I’m just… trying to exist. To feel okay being me.
Stephanie, this was beautifully written. Painful in all the right ways. Thank you for putting words to the thing so many of us struggle to name.