Ani Trueheart - To Be Invisible

Image Description: A photo of Ani from behind, playing soccer. They are on the right, dribbling the ball while another player is running on their left. Their left arm is pushing against the other player’s right arm.

To Be Invisible

April 3, 2020

Content Warning: This post has sensitive content related to trans violence. Please read with care for yourself.

This morning, I got to watch the sunrise. I got out of bed, made chamomile tea, and sat in a little nook in my living room area to gaze at the grapefruit sky. I had so much on my mind. So I wrote.

It’s been a few days since Transgender Day of Visibility. And I am so proud of all of the people who made themselves visible to the world. And how much strength it takes to press the ‘post’ button to show people our true selves. We are attractive, beautiful, unique, resilient, talented, intelligent, handsome, stunning, creative, diverse beings!

Yes, trans people are magical. And...we also do very normal things. Boring things. Mediocre things. Like making ramen when we don’t feel like cooking a meal with more ingredients. Or scooping our cat’s poop since we are their servants. We’re humans beings, with all the strings attached. And some of those strings are pain from this huge world that doesn’t know we exist or what we look like as tangible humans.

What I am about to share about my trans-ness is not true for every trans person, and may in fact be divergent from the experience of many trans-masc individuals and trans men. I speak from my own experience, feelings and journey as a non-binary person.

At this point in my transition, I pass as a cisgender man. And to me, this makes me feel invisible. For 23 out of 30 years of my life, my name was Jenni, and I was assigned to be a woman. Society rarely assumes that someone who looks like a cis-man was once a woman only a decade before. If I say I was a college athlete and someone asks where I went to school, I get to decide to be visible to them because I played soccer with women my whole life and don’t know much about men’s college soccer to keep up with maintaining a lie. I usually do tell them I’m trans and go into my life story a bit. But if I don’t, people would never know and my trans-ness would be invisible and my inner world may also be ignored because But I am proud of being trans and want that to be known. I want it to be accepted.

Another part of feeling invisible is that I don’t identify strictly as a man. I identify with masculinity, but not the social roles, implications or gender of being a man alone. And that’s hard to explain sometimes. When I tell people I use they/them pronouns, I think people are confused as to why a presumably masculine person would disown their “manhood,” since pronouns are so closely associated with sex. But the funny thing is, I am owning my masculinity through hormones, top surgery, and the way I dress. And my gender is more than being a man; my body is more than the mainstream definition of male. For me, feeling visible means connecting with people. And connecting with people looks like honesty. Being trans is my life, yet many people don’t know what trans people look like. Which really hurts sometimes. Other times, it is simply the safest option to not disclose that I’m trans. It’s all part of a grieving process I am going through.

Being visible is inevitable for humans. We don’t have a choice to be invisible like wizards do. So our existence in a tangible world can be a very rough road. Sometimes our bodies don’t look exactly like the binary masculine and feminine images of bodies that are socially exalted in the media. For example, my hips are a bit wide. Before taking hormones, I am certain people noticed my hips and would assume I was born female, therefore seeing me as a woman, and therefore misgendering me. In less words, I didn’t “pass” as cis-gender, even though there are plenty of cis-men with wide hips, plenty of trans-masculine people with narrow hips and plenty of gender non-conforming people with all kinds of hips. People noticed my queerness, instead of my body blending in, going unchecked or unscanned in cis-normative public spaces. This created situations for me that were awkward, tense, and sometimes violent in nature.

Like when someone on the public bus shouted at me in front of everyone, “What the hell are you!? A boy or a girl?” On another bus occasion, I was called a “gay-ass faggot.” Or like when a shopper called Kohl’s security on me for using the “women’s” restroom. I was going by J at the time and I had short hair and a button up on. I had only ever used the women’s restroom in public. After that day and a few others like it, I wanted to start using gender-neutral bathrooms. Or even the men’s room.

One night at a concert, I ran to the bathroom that said “Men,” thinking no one would notice or care that I had slightly curvy edges to my frame and no facial hair; it was so full in the venue. When I opened my stall door, two drunk guys looked me up and down, asserted themselves into my space, and started questioning me. I was scared. I was polite and kept moving. And thankfully, I left safely.

It’s an understatement to say it sucks when people think you are a creature-thing, a stranger that slinks around in bathrooms, looking to prey on women or intrude on a “Men Only” den. I wish I could respond to those folks with,

“Well, actually, I just drank 3 cups of coffee in one hour so I’m looking for a stall with no feet because my immediate concern is my bladder.” Again, human things that human bodies do.

And for trans-femme folx and trans women, visibility is a much more dangerous journey. And even more-so for those of color. In 2019, there were 26 trans and gender non-conforming individuals who were fatally shot or killed by other violent means, the majority being trans women of color. For melanated trans people, there are many social barriers between them and justice and many reasons to feel fearful, as their race is policed, criminalized and monitored constantly in conjunction with being trans. Even so, there are visible trans women of color (Laverne Cox, Janet Mock, Shea Diamond, and Dominique Jackson being a few well-known examples), trans men of color (Laith Ashley, Patricio Manuel, and Brian Michael Scott), gender non-conforming and non-binary POC (Indya Moore, Ser Anzoategui, and Amanda Stenberg), and countless non-celebrity humans walking out their doors to brave their cities and towns, all with unique stories to tell.

We shouldn’t have to look cis-gender or be assumed as cis-gender to be safe or valid in our skin. If we as a society accepted trans-ness and queerness as normal, then seeing trans or queer bodies in everyday life would be normal. You could just ask someone’s pronouns. Then use their pronouns. And then eat your fries in one fell swoop. I only wish it were that simple. We’re moving forward, but there is much more to accomplish in order to save lives in the trans community today.

Trans people need to be seen, heard, validated and loved. We need to know our feelings and experiences are real and our identify is valid. We need laws to protect us from transphobia, violence, and erasure in all aspects of our lives. We need to know we can go to the restroom safely in public. We need to know we can go to the doctor without being refused care. We need to see ourselves in successful role models. We need to be included in biology classes and sex education classes. We need to be accepted in religious and spiritual circles, and not as a project for evangelism or a token for cis people to get into heaven by accepting us wounded trans people. We need to be loved for who we are.

I’m working on owning my story, championing myself because I have many safe opportunities with white, masculine privilege that the world lends to me. I want to let people know exactly who I am so I don’t feel invisible or leave cool details of my life out of the picture. And yes, this is a privilege. Not all trans people feel safe or comfortable to do that.

In my lifetime, I hope I get to see acceptance of all bodies and expressions of self as lovable and normal, woven into the everyday moments of our social lives. Today, I choose to be visible, to show all the quirks and beauty and nuance and normalcy to who I am. For now, I will make another cup of tea.