Archive: Author: Holden Madagame

Wagner and Me

Posted on by Holden Madagame

About 2 years ago I had never seen Wagner live. The first Wagner ‘show’ I saw was a concert version of ‘Tristan und Isolde’ at the Berliner Philharmonic with a dear friend who bought me a libretto to follow with it. I’d heard bits and pieces of Wagner before on records I used to have back in Michigan, and never really understood the appeal. And having been ‘raised’ as a mezzo-soprano, Wagner was literally something I had never thought I would sing. Kratom helps overcome addictions, acts as a natural pain reliever, and has few health risks,you can research more to find more information.

Over the past few years I’ve started to not only develop opinions about Wagner, but have now sung in the chorus for ‘Tannhäuser’in several, performed workshops as Mime in ‘Das Rheingold’, and am now about to premiere my first fully staged Wagner production as a soloist with Fulham Opera as Ausgustin Moser in ‘Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg’.

Just having a riot in our jammies

When I first did Mime with Fulham Opera a few years ago, I thought it was going to be a bit of a stretch to sing the role, because…Wagner, right? Only Wagnerian singers sing Wagner ever, right? Turns out that’s not necessarily the case. I would never in a million years call myself a Wagnerian, but this repertoire seems to have something to offer me in the way of character roles. And the more I focus on character tenor repertoire, the more joy and genuine love I find in these absurd roles, and the general absurdity of me singing Wagner. For a bit more info on these roles, here’s a great interview with Graham Clark, a renowned Wagner character tenor.

If you know Wagner, you probably know that it has a complicated and dark past, and was associated with the Third Reich for being a huge influence on Hitler. Many of Wagner’s operas have anti-semitic characters, and overtly nationalistic themes, ‘Meistersinger’ being a prime example. The process of doing this opera was interesting, because our director wanted to make a bold statement and have us wear yellow vests (gilet jaunes) at the end of the opera. In the end, he decided that it wasn’t the right decision, not because of political reasons, but because the visuals weren’t unambiguous. Instead he opted for us to focus on the theme of art being deeply important to us, and art being what unites us.

I feel privileged to be in a production where the team thinks critically about the problematic themes of the opera before them, rather than taking it at face value. It’s too often that we do legacy repertoire without thinking about the consequences of perpetuating sexism, racism, or nationalism.

On a different note, I’m surprised by the kind of freedom that Wagner allows in the lines, and how it sits in my voice. I don’t know if that’s necessarily true for all singers, but for whatever my voice is, it feels true. There are high notes which in some repertoire might freak me out, but the lines are written in a way which allows the voice to open up into them instead of fighting against them. Not to say that it’s easy, but that my voice definitely likes doing this more than some other things.

Sass for days

I’m finding that especially true singing ‘Meistersinger’ at the moment. Moser is a type of character role I’m familiar with: small, relatively inconsequential by himself but necessary as an ensemble member, has lines that are difficultly timed which sound like utter chaos if done badly or incorrectly, and if you miss it, half your role is gone. There’s room for romantic lines, but you have to count some complicated rhythms to make it through. It locks together tightly in a way that propels the music forwards in that way that brings one into a trancelike stance.

Even when first singing Wagner, I felt I didn’t like it, but the more I experience, the more joyful challenges I find in it which forces me to continually be learning and perfecting my craft. For example, the ‘riot scene’ in Meistersinger is incredibly difficult. Honestly, it might be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to prepare. There are a million, un-repeated words, seemingly random entrances that need to be exactly right, a scene which must also be physically chaotic, and no individual glory to be found.

Interestingly, I’d say that singing Wagner is sometimes similar to watching it: it takes a lot of concentration to stay engaged with the music and drama, but has a balance of calm sublimity and utter chaos. Audiences have the luxury of being able to nod off though, which I personally have zero qualms about. You paid for the ticket, and if you like sleeping to Wagner, that’s fucking awesome.

If you’re in London, performances are on the 9, 11, 14 and 17th August 2019 and begin at 5pm, except on Sunday 11th, when the performance will begin at 3pm. All shows will be at the Greenwood Theatre, 55 Weston Street, SE1 3RA, about 2 minutes walk from London Bridge station. We’ll have absolutely gorgeous surtitles which will probably keep you entertained even after you’ve gone home for the night.

Some Thoughts on Visibility

Posted on by Holden Madagame

As I’m writing this I’m sitting on an airplane headed to Austin, Texas, where I’ll do the workshop premiere of the opera ‘Good Country’. I’ll be performing as a transgender character for the first time, and it’s also the first new work I’ve collaborated with. As yesterday was Transgender Day of Visibility, I wanted to share a collection of thoughts that I have on my own visibility.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my own visibility recently in a different context than I normally do. My day to day experience of being trans isn’t all that exciting. Where I live in Germany, most people either don’t care, or they are of the mentality that you don’t talk about personal things, transness being one of those things. I respect that kind of mentality because it protects queer and trans people from everyday homo/transphobia in a way that is very low key. I may have colleagues or acquaintances where I live who may not agree with me being trans, but because they basically leave everyone alone, I never feel judged. I don’t ask if they are married, they (usually) don’t ask if I have a vagina. We call it good.

In some ways this is very refreshing, because I don’t often have to defend myself from too many transphobic comments. The flip side of this, is that people assume that I am a cisgender person, which I’m not. I don’t like this at all, to be honest. Sometimes I find it hard to express myself authentically because of it. I would be actively more comfortable if I were able to express that I am trans, or to have people recognize me as trans.

I want to be visible, I want to be out. I don’t want be seen as cisgender, I just want validation of my own gender.

It’s not that I want to constantly be talking about it, but when people know that I’m trans, it allows them to not make assumptions (which we should really be doing for everyone regardless of gender). [IMPORTANT: Ed- The flow from this para into the next isn’t seemless for me. You finish this para with the topic of assumptions about gender (is this the cis until proved otherwize idea!) and the next one starts with the topic of people being able to be an allie to trans*people only if you know thea are their. Both valid and important points but the starting phrase of suggest the two paras are consquetial and I don’t think that they are.]

Additionally being visible allows allies to have my back, a comparable non-trans* experience might be if you knew a friend had moved house, started a new job, or maybe injured themselves, you might ask the person if they need a hand with anything, or if you can carry their bag.

An example for how this applies to a trans friend might be, whenever my partner and I are out together or travelling, she always checks the bathroom situation. She’ll tell me if there are gendered bathrooms, a possibility for a gender neutral/disability bathroom, or whatever. If I can, I use the single-stall disability bathroom, because it’s more comfortable. If I’m with a group of people who don’t feel comfortable talking about gender/queerness/whatever, then there’s no context for why I’m uncomfortable going to the bathroom. Or when I’m at the end of my testosterone cycle, I’m much lower energy, and tend to be more susceptible to depression. People on who don’t know I’m trans* are missing useful context for my depressed, even though for me it’s clearly hormonal.

Bringing this back to activism, and as an additional layer to what I’ve just said, I sometimes find it hard to be so public about myself. I’ve made it a point to write these blog posts, make videos, give interviews, reply to emails from other trans babies, etc., but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s easy for me. My massive privilege of living in Germany, passing as white, having access to trans related healthcare, having supportive family, colleagues, and friends, and a good education add up to me having the emotional and psychological freedom to share and discuss trans issues in a way that. Although it’s sometimes draining or difficult, is not harmful to me. When I share my experiences, it gives other trans people a space to exist.

This is most clear to me when I receive emails or messages from other trans singers. The most common theme is that someone had no idea it was possible to take hormones and also be trans. Because I’ve done it, and I’m visible, it allows them to do the same thing with less fear.

[IMPORTANT: I in no way think that it is every trans person’s duty and job to be publicly out and visible. It is not our job to educate cisgender people, which in end effect is often defending our existence. I am giving my time and emotional energy willingly, not because it is actually required of me. Never mistake the difference. Never expect any person’s emotional energy for free, let alone a trans person’s.]

Over the course of my coming out, I have done interviews, made videos, etc. to share my story. This isn’t narcissism or a desire for my “15 minutes of fame.” If I wanted to feel famous, I’d just do my actual job of standing on a stage and dancing like a monkey for your money.

Being public with my life and emotions is very difficult, and to be honest, it’s not necessarily good for my mental health. I try to prioritize activism in my life, but I don’t take my own mental health lightly. This is why I am never judgmental about people who don’t do activism. Preservation of one’s mental health is a massively important and frequently undervalued undertaking. And if someone wants to keep to themselves, they absolutely have that right, just as cisgender people do.

Visibility is both a privilege and a public service for me that has both costs and benefits. Each trans individual has the right to manage their own visibility through their life and social spheres. What is your experience of this?

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Has your sexuality changed since taking testosterone?

Posted on by Holden Madagame

I’ve gotten this question quite a few times. The short answer is yes, it has. The long answer is yes but it’s complicated.

As a kid I was raised Catholic and sexuality wasn’t really even a thing, let alone queer sexuality. When I came out as a lesbian in college, I had already had the sense that I wasn’t actually a lesbian. I knew I was bi, because I had been attracted to guys before, but didn’t have the sexual vocabulary or self-awareness to do anything with that information.

http://gph.is/2r0NshP

I also didn’t have the self-knowledge that I was trans* until much later.

Because I didn’t know I was trans*, I couldn’t have really guessed what my sexuality was or would be. And even as I type that, it sounds ridiculous, because sexuality is fluid. When we learn more about ourselves, our sexuality can change. When we have experiences with other people, our sexuality can change. We react to our surroundings, but also to our deep, inherent feelings about ourselves.

When I was a lesbian, I knew that sometimes I was attracted to men, but it was so few and far between that it didn’t really register enough for me to do anything about it. My Catholic upbringing also taught me that it’s possible to repress any feelings, no matter how strong. So I repressed them for awhile.

Although I had mostly dated women, I started to accept that I was also attracted to other genders. It was welcoming and not unexpected, since I had already had that feeling in college, but didn’t know how to articulate it.

When I was in college, queer female culture was uncomfortable with bisexuality. Despite a majority of queer people identifying as bi or pan, most of queer female culture sneered at bisexuality when I was coming out. Even close friends of mine would say awful things about bi women whom they had either dated, or heard about from a friend who broke their heart and left them for a man! Imagine, a bisexual woman also dating men, right? And bi men weren’t something anyone talked about or acknowledged as even a possibility.

Being a “gold star” was revered, and since I was a gold star by virtue of not having sex with anyone at all, I decided to just keep it that way, since it somehow, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, made me more attractive to other queer women. Since I didn’t feel entirely comfortable dating men anyway, I dated women and called myself a lesbian, although I knew somewhere in my heart it wasn’t entirely true.

The time I really started to question and think critically about my sexuality was when I came to Berlin.

People talk a lot about how Berlin is a magical place where everyone is queer and polyamorous…and it’s not necessarily untrue. If someone isn’t queer, they’ve probably had a queer experience or at least thought critically about why they’re straight. Most people have complicated genders, even if they present heteronormatively. Everything is complicated and also so simple.

Being able to talk to other queer/trans people like me, made me realize that I wasn’t the only one with complicated feelings about my gender and sexuality. Just being in that environment made it possible for me to open up other possibilities for myself.

The main shift in my sexuality did come with taking testosterone from the Low Testosterone Treatments i got, but not because testosterone is a magical serum which somehow changes your personality and/or sexuality along with your gender presentation. What I believe from my experience and that of others, is that hormone therapy allows you to express your gender in a way that is more authentic and natural to you, and thus allows you to explore your natural sexuality without any hindrances regarding your own discomfort of your gender.

When I started to feel more comfortable in a more masculine presenting body, I felt empowered to date male-identified or masculine-leaning people, which I had never felt comfortable doing before. I was finally able to express something about my sexuality that I couldn’t have until I accepted that I was trans*. I think a big part of this is simply feeling comfortable in my body. When you feel comfortable in your body, you feel sexy, and can realize yourself sexually. This applies to anyone, not just trans people.

This doesn’t mean you need hormones to explore your gender. Just having the self-knowledge of the nuances of your gender, and allowing yourself to express that is enough. If you want/need hormones and/or surgeries, then that’s what you want/need. If not, that’s equally valid. All genders and all sexualities are valid, no matter how they correspond.

For example, a trans man can date a cis man, a cis man can date a trans woman, a trans woman can date a non-binary person. There are infinite possibilities!

What are your experiences of your gender and sexuality? What were your defining moments when realizing your sexuality? Has it changed over time, and what was a catalyst for that change?

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The FAQ to End All FAQs

Posted on by Holden Madagame

I’ve compiled a handful of questions that everyone is thinking, or that I’ve been asked. Some of them are appropriate, and some of them aren’t. I’d like to just leave this here so in case you have one of these questions, you’ll never have to ask me about it! I’ll be updating this guide as I receive more questions that have easy short answers like these.

You’re welcome.

Questions not to ask but I’ll answer anyway:

  • Do you have a penis or a vagina?
    • A vagina, but for the record there are more variations of genitalia than you think.
  • How do you have sex?
    • Kind of like anyone should have sex. Sometimes with genitals, sometimes with hands, sometimes with mouths, sometimes with toys, sometimes with a telekinetic queer wavelength from the implant put into my brain during my time at a liberal university. The usual.
  • Have you had all the surgeries?
    • “All” the surgeries doesn’t make any sense really, because a trans person doesn’t require any surgeries let alone “all,” but of the most common ones for trans men this includes top-surgery, bottom-surgery, and a hysterectomy. I have only had top-surgery.
  • When will you get bottom surgery?
    • Definitely not ever.
  • What about a hysterectomy?
    • Yes I will get that at some point.
  • Can you have kids? Do you want kids?
  • What about adopting?
    • I don’t want kids, thanks.
  • Do you miss your boobs?
    • No I don’t. There are enough boobs in the world, I don’t need my own.
  • Are you afraid you’ll regret taking testosterone?
    • Not as much as my former Catholic Virgo brain makes me regret any action or words that were not perfect. Hahahahahahahahaha.
    • No, I’m not afraid of having regrets about anything really, because life is way too short.
  • Has your personality changed since taking testosterone?

Easy Questions that are only slightly uncomfortable:

  • Do you have to take testosterone forever?
    • Yes I do. Unless at some point I don’t want to, then I can stop.
  • How often do you take it?
    • I take it about once every 2.5 weeks.
  • Would you ever stop?
    • Probably not, unless I needed to temporarily for a medical reason.
  • How do you take testosterone? Is there a pill?
    • I use injections because it’s less frequent and also cheaper. Here’s a guide to injecting safely. Using gels is also very popular, but that doesn’t appeal to me. Taking testosterone pills has been deemed as potentially harmful to your liver.
  • What are the changes from testosterone?
  • How much does testosterone cost?
    • In Germany, a package of 10 shots costs me about 70€. This is ridiculously cheap compared to some parts of the world.
  • How much does top-surgery cost?
    • This depends, but mine was around 7000€.
  • What was your voice type before?
    • I was a mezzo-soprano.

Are you a trans* person and have more questions that you don’t want to answer in your daily life? Send me a message and we can add it to the list!

Also, if you liked this, maybe you might want to chuck me a couple of [insert currency here] for the time. 🙂 Just go to my Patreon page and become a patron!


What’s Interesting About My Voice

Posted on by Holden Madagame

One of the most common types of questions that people have about my transition is about my vocal transition: how has it changed, what changed, does it feel different, etc. I’ve written a few articles about these changes and will continue to update people on these changes. It’s important to document these things, because trans*singers need to know how their voices may change.

That all said, I do think that asking purely about physical changes contributes to the further medicalization and fetishization of trans* people.

“Whoaa, I don’t think you’re a fetish and respect you and your trans* experience! I’m just especially interested in your voice!” you will think or possibly say out loud. I know that already.

Fetishization doesn’t mean that you explicitly think of me as a fetish. It means that you’re overvaluing and giving unwarranted respect to the physical aspects of a trans* person’s transition. The most exciting things, and the things most trans* singers probably want to talk about are the experiential changes, such as the shift in repertoire, the change in operatic roles, and the everyday privileges that I notice as a masculine-presenting person in a patriarchal system, rather than as a feminine-presenting person, and vice versa.

I will say, that it doesn’t surprise me at all, because it’s something ‘special’ and different from what is considered normal in the classical singing world. Most people don’t change Fachs from mezzo to tenor…or do they?

"I'm pretty sure it's a trick question"

I do think that trans* voices can be special and interesting, but I think that the media exoticizes them, to be honest. I don’t mind when people ask me questions about my vocal transition, but I end up feeling awkward most of the time, because it’s really not very interesting. My voice is a useful, standard tenor voice that is neither exceptional nor exotic in any way.

Vocal transition is something that people–especially people socialized as male–who grow up singing have to deal with at some point. “Male” voices break. Even the rest of the ‘side-effects’ of testosterone are the same: voice break, facial hair, change in hair quality, increase in muscle, etc. These are things that most people are familiar with in cisgender men, but find exotic and interesting in trans* men, because many of the effects happen quickly, there is no physical ‘growth’ like in a child/teenager, and because these changes alter your perception of our gender significantly.

Disclaimer: I will be using the term ‘boy soprano’ or ‘boy choir’ to refer to the voice of a person assigned male at birth. They can include cisgender males, trans women, and non-binary folk.

There are many western cultures with a history of ‘boy choirs’ who have hoards and hoards of prepubescent treble voices who eventually experience vocal transition during puberty. At this time, a soprano or alto voice must transition to tenor, baritone, bass, or possibly countertenor. Puberty can last between 2-5 years, at which point the voice can transition to any of these voice types.

Does this sound familiar?

It’s more or less the same as my own vocal transition, including the length of time. The only difference is that I’m about 15 years older than a person who goes through vocal puberty without prescribed hormones and that I have a degree in vocal performance. I have a lot of experience and knowledge to aid me in a vocal transition, and also the patience of an adult to bide my time when I can’t do much more. A ‘boy soprano’ on the other hand, has youth on their side. The vocal cords are more flexible, which means they can develop smoothly. It’s like having a shiny, new, well-oiled gear in a machine, rather than one that is a bit older and needs some love and care.

Additionally, society gives emotional space to young male voices that it just doesn’t give to trans* people. This is nothing new to trans* people, but worth emphasizing.

One thing I’d like to mention here is a significant fact that all voices change.

This is common knowledge in the operatic world, but just because you were a coloratura soprano when you were 20 doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way. Your voice will change, sometimes dramatically enough that you’ll have to transition to a different Fach. Tenors and basses have to do the same thing sometimes. It’s not just trans* people who have vocal transitions, cis people do too. At the very least the quality of a person’s voice changes as they grow older, if not the range. Often in a positive way, especially for operatic singing. An extremely common example of this is women who have a child, and have an extra hormone kick that can completely change their voice. I’d also like to address how Fach transition in cis singers also has to do with gender performance, but that’s for another day.

So, with this all said…why are people so interested in the trans* voice? I’m not complaining, because it allows me to share my experiences with people who would otherwise not care about trans* issues, but I do find it interesting and ironic that people who are interested in my voice, aren’t always interested in my personal experiences. This obsession with trans* bodies and our physiognomy is sometimes hilarious, and sometimes disturbing.

If you don’t know what I mean, here’s the quick version: trans* bodies are constantly being subject to questioning, medicalization, and fetishization. When people ask/talk about trans* people or the trans* experience, they often are asking about purely physical changes or experiences, such as what genitals we have, how we have sex, what do our scars look like, how often do we shave or not shave, etc.

The medicalization of trans*ness has been a huge problem for us. And to be honest, when people constantly ask about my body, it makes me feel like a cold body in an autopsy room, as if people would rather me dead to look at my insides and poke around at my vocal cords as they like. It makes me feel like my personal experience as a human being is being looked past and disregarded.

This blurb is a good summary of why medicalization of transness can be a problem:

“The negative implications on transgendered individuals extend not only towards the physical body but also to the mentality of the individual themselves. One main thing that has been felt among individuals who were dealing with medical professionals to alter their sex were dictated the perception of how they should act as an individual and how they should re-construct their identities as to what is seen a socially acceptable…One issue is that these individuals are seen as medical “problems” rather than individuals that just want to feel comfortable in their own body. Due to trans individuals seen as “problems” in the medical world, they are constantly going through various interventions and programs that end up making the individual feel like they are not “normal” and just problematic.”

UBC Wiki, Medicalization of Transgender Individuals

This last part is important. Medicalization makes us feel problematic, like we need to be solved, and like something is wrong with us.

If you don’t believe me, check out this article I found dealing with the transitioning of ‘boy’ voices through puberty. There are some pieces of advice that could be wonderfully applied to trans* voices/bodies, but most choral directors/voice teachers would not think to exercise this same kind of patience for an adult trans* person as they naturally would with a cisgender boy in puberty.

– Boys need constant encouragement that voice change is normal and indicates they are maturing.

– Be prepared to transpose at any time.

– Avoid associating gender with parts.

– Assure boys that voice change is normal and indicates they are maturing.

– Every voice change is unique.

– Frustration is common no matter what stage.

– “Be affirming for a boy that his vulnerability is human and acceptable. Once you understand that to be human is to be vulnerable, whether you are a boy or a girl, then you can go on and be brave, confident, and productive from a solid foundation. You don’t have to hide your vulnerability from yourself, and so you are not deeply afraid or fragile”.

SINGING SONS: Nurturing Boys’ Voices from Six to Sixteen, Dan LeJeune

You see this same mentality of allowing cisgender boys/men to have consideration for their feelings, when society doesn’t allow the same for trans* people. For example, avoiding associating gender with parts? If a choral director is happy to do that for a boy soprano, why not a transgender person? Or affirming that their frustration is valid? Why do we constantly affirm the anger and frustration of cisgender men/boys, and not the anger and frustration of trans* people in exactly the same situation?

Being interested in trans* voices may be meant well and is important to discuss, but ultimately you need to treat us as individual singers.

Teachers should be treating individual vocal issues regardless of gender identity. Coaches should be giving repertoire based on an individual, regardless of gender identity. Colleagues should be treating each other with respect as individuals, regardless of gender identity.

My existence should teach you that all of us deserve compassion, and that gender makes no difference. A cis woman should not be treated differently than a cis man, a trans* man shouldn’t be treated differently than a cis woman, etc.

I’d love to hear your own personal experiences with vocal transition, whether you’re trans* or cis!

Glossary of voice types:

  • Typical ‘female’ voice types:
    • soprano – highest typically ‘female’ voice type
    • mezzo – middle to high voice type; often has a similar range to soprano but with a different quality of sound
    • alto – low typically ‘female’ voice type
  • Typical ‘male’ voice types:
    • tenor – typically high range or resonance
    • baritone – middle to low range
    • bass – the lowest of this type
    • countertenor – has a similar range to alto, mezzo, or soprano; different quality of sound
  • Other terms:
    • Fach – a voice category typically used for opera, but can be used in reference to choral voices
    • treble voices – soprano, mezzo, alto voice types

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How to Resist/How to Support

Posted on by Holden Madagame

If you haven’t been paying attention to the news (no judgement, I really get it), maybe you haven’t heard, but Trump’s Administration has been thinking of changing the legal definition of sex under Title IX — the federal civil rights law that bans discrimination in education on the basis of gender — that would render immutable the sex of a person at birth. In other words, the government would only recognize the gender that relates to a person’s genitalia. Trans* identities would not exist legally under this change, which means that trans* rights would also cease to exist.

Here are a few things that could happen if this federal policy (for non-Americans, this means a nation-wide policy) passed:

  • Gender affirmation surgeries and hormone treatments would no longer be recognized or covered by health care

  • There will be an increase in black market hormones and surgeries

  • Increase of violence against trans* people, especially trans* women of color

  • No one could legally change their gender, and an application to change one’s name on the grounds of trans*ness could easily be rejected

  • Bathroom Bills like in North Carolina would have federal support

  • Suicide rates of trans* people will increase

  • Any legal definition of a trans* person

This is the tipping point though. Trump has been leading up to this since the beginning. He’s been carrying out anti-trans and anti-queer policies from day one.

You may think that I’m exaggerating, but I’m not in the least. I would love to downplay what’s happening in the States right now and tell you that everything will be fine and that they can’t hurt us. But that’s just not true. A policy like this is devastating, and not only psychologically threatening, but physically threatening as well.

People have been asking me the same thing, “What can I do?” I’ve broken this down into four categories of what you can do as: a trans* person, a cis person, any person, a foreign person.

What you can do as a trans* person:

  • Take care of yourself. Make yourself the highest priority, see your therapist, do your regular workouts, whatever keeps you psychologically at your highest game.

  • Ask for help. It’s hard and sometimes we don’t even know what we need, but try and ask for help from friends and family. Don’t pretend like you can do this yourself, because that is what community and family is for, chosen or biological.

  • Share this article. Then you won’t have to engage with every single person you meet. Just share me and I’ll do it for you.

  • If you feel safe and able:

    • Answer questions. Engage with cis people, especially those in the LGBQ community. We are not obligated to answer questions and we deserve these rights, but NOW is the time to fight. Now is the time to answer questions, talk to people, be triggered, be angry. Our feelings are valid and we need to use them and focus them to get shit done.

    • Post personal experiences on social media.

    • Throw metaphorical bricks. Or real ones. I’m not stopping you. Stonewall was a riot, not a party.

What you can do as a cis person:

  • Show up for trans* people. What does this mean? Be politically active for them. Put yourself on the line, make other people uncomfortable by calling them out. Educate people. I absolutely expect you to be at rallies or marches if you can. Posting articles is great, but actually engaging with people on behalf of trans* people, standing next to trans* people and holding signs, telling your colleague that they are transphobic are absolutely invaluable and go a long way to helping us with much less effort on your part than ours.

  • Check on your trans* friends. Send them a message asking how they are and asking what you can do. Sometimes just listening to their fears is enough.

  • Listen to what they need, share their social media posts, educate yourself, and ask questions when you can’t find the answers.

  • Do practical things for your friends like get groceries, do admin work like phone calls or opening letters. Things that are easy for you but sometimes impossible for your friend.

  • Look up your local LGBT organization (especially a TPOC organization) and ask what you can do for them.

  • Donate to a trans* organization. Here is a list of credible organizations that will use your money effectively. These aren’t the only ones though. If you know a local organization don’t hesitate to donate to them.

What we all must do:

  • Vote. You must vote, because it is the most powerful tool you have.

    • Even if our voting system is messed up, it’s still the best you’ve got. Make sure you research the candidates, research the policy proposals. Do the work and make an INFORMED vote. This is especially important in any States that have queer/trans* issues at stake. If you think your vote doesn’t make a difference, look at this interactive map of just the amount of sway queer voters could have had in the last election.

    • Here is how to vote. Figure out when and where you vote, how to get an absentee ballot, the status of your registration, etc. Don’t be afraid of the answers, be afraid of not asking the questions.

    • If you live abroad and vote absentee, do whatever it takes. Ask friends and family to take or send your ballot for you if need be. I don’t know about other States, but Michigan allows you to give power of attorney to someone else in case you are for whatever reason unable to complete the ballot yourself.

  • Contact your representatives. I would say this is as important as voting right now. Your representatives are meant to represent YOU.

    • It can be overwhelming to figure out how to do that, but there is a handy tool called Resist.bot which you can use to VERY easily contact your representative via FB Messgenger, SMS, Twitter, etc.

    • Here is an example of what you can write. You can even copy and paste this message if you want:

      • “I strongly oppose and am deeply disturbed by Trump’s potential policy to render the gender assigned at birth immutable. Trans* people make up 0.6% of the population, and deserve equal rights. Taking away a legal definition is the first step to wide-spread hate crimes and discrimination. This policy is not backed by science, and goes against all research of gender and sex. It also allows for no definition of intersex people, which make up 1.7% of the population. I vehemently oppose this policy, and would like you to speak out against it.”

  • Attend marches/rallies. Find out where a march near you is. If there is no march, start one. Contact your local trans* or LGBT organization and ask them for help in organizing something. If not, here’s a guide for organizing a rally.

What you can do as a non-US citizen:

  • Contact the White House: You can’t contact representatives directly because they need to verify you’re a constituent, but you can always contact the White House with concerns.

  • Contact representatives in your country: Trans* rights is a human rights issue, and thus an international issue. Contacting your representatives in your home country will make them aware of this problem.

  • Start/Sign petitions: This is probably one of biggest things you can do, because anyone internationally can sign petitions in support or in opposition to something.

  • Attend international rallies/marches. If there isn’t one near you, create one. This works best in big cities. There is a history of protests outside of the US against Trump, so it’s not unheard of by any means.

Remember: None of us is free until all of us are free.

Glossary:

  • trans* = umbrella term for any identity that does not align with what one was assigned at birth

  • cis = cisgender; when one identifies with the gender they were assigned at birth

  • intersex = person born with variations in sex characteristics including chromosomes, genitals, hormones, and gonads

  • TPOC = trans people of color

 

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Dream Roles and Fach Expectations

Posted on by Holden Madagame

Question:

And more musically: what are your dream roles with your current fFach? Do you have any expectation/desires about what might continue to develop with your voice?

The cast of Ariadne auf Naxos, Glyndebourne Festival. Photo: Robert Workman

I realize this patron only asked what my dream roles in my current Fach were, but because I love opera I wanna share some of my favorites.

Regardless of gender, Fach, or whether I’d even do it well: Zerbinetta from Ariadne auf Naxos

  • Zerbinetta is without a doubt one of the most fabulous and simultaneously earnest coloratura soprano characters that exist in opera. She is super virtuosic and has a lot more emotional complexity than you usually see in these types of characters. She’s also incredibly camp and has four male lovers who faun over her constantly.

From when I was a mezzo: Octavian from ‘Der Rosenkavalier’

Duel between Onegin and Lenski, by Ilya Repin

Tenor roles in general: Lenski from ‘Eugene Onegin’

  • Lenski is yet another heart-breakingly earnest character (I’m sensing a theme…) who has the tragic role of being Onegin’s best friend. He is a sensitive poet type, has some of the best music in the whole show, and also gets an unforgettable death. I’d also like to take this moment to confess that Lenski was the only tenor role I ever gave a shit about as a mezzo.

Current fach: Tanzmeister from ‘Ariadne auf Naxos’, Valzacchi from ‘Der Rosenkavalier’, The Weird Peasant in ‘Lady Macbeth of the Mtensk District’, Mime in ‘The Ring Cycle’

  • Since this was the base of the original question, I thought I’d share a handful of roles. I won’t go into why I love all of them, but let’s just say they’re all fucking crazy. Although I’ve sung Valzacchi and Mime in orchestral workshops, I’d love to actually stage them and get the chance to really get it in my body.
  • The Shabby Peasant (which amazingly is the official title of this character) is a dream role from when I saw it at the Deutsche Oper with Burkhard Ulrich in the role. It encompasses a major plot point and is virtuosic both dramatically and vocally in its own Stravinskian way.
  • Tanzmeister I haven’t yet sung, but if I ever get a crack at it, the world will probably never let me do anything else.

My current Fach is a Character Tenor or Spieltenor in German. A character tenor is generally defined as being a tenor who can act and dance very well and who has a high level of musicianship. Character Tenors do not need to necessarily sound pretty, but they need to be useful, interesting, and good story tellers. From my experience, a character tenor often has small but difficult roles which require good timing, good counting skills, multi-tasking mastery, and a high awareness of the other players on the stage. They are almost exclusively supporting characters, except for a few famous exceptions, like Nemorino in ‘L’elisir d’amore’.

I fit this Fach very well for all of the above reasons and my expectations are that my voice will only become more stable and more useful over time to include a huge amount of small, useful tenor roles which no one else wants to do. This may sound slightly fatalist in some way, depending on your opinion of character tenor roles, but I find this particular Fach fascinating because the roles are very important, but not at all glorious.

Let’s take Valzacchi for example: I sang this last year in an orchestra workshop with Fulham Opera (delete,) and it fit like a glove. The first part of the role is literally 45 seconds long but is fast, furious, and sung in German with an Italian-Viennese accent. I can’t say it sounded pretty, but I did get all the fucking words at at the right time, on the right pitches, and was hella entertaining to watch, which is basically the job of a character tenor. Mime from ‘The Ring Cycle’ is another solid (and vocally huge) example of an interesting character tenor role. In ‘Das Rheingold’, Mime is crying and screaming on stage for about 10 minutes, changing motivations and ideas every other line, and eventually runs screaming at the end of his 10 minutes of glory.

Sometimes I tell people that I don’t want to sound pretty and that I want to sing the ugly things. This is only half true. I do want to sound pretty if I’m honest. I want to be enjoyable to listen to and I also want to sing beautiful music. Most character roles don’t really afford one that opportunity, which means that I will need to supplement my development with other repertoire to make sure I’m balancing myself. That said, I also do love to sing ugly roles. No shame in being the hilarious, useful person on stage.

Something I’ve talked about with a few people is that I should never close off my options. For most tenors this usually means thinking about doing character roles rather than just auditioning for lyric roles, but for me it’s sort of the opposite. I never think, “Oh, maybe I’ll sing Ferrando in Cosi fan tutte someday!” But it could happen. It’s completely possible because everything up to this point in my career wasn’t possible until I did it and now it is.

Do you think I can do it? What’s your experience?

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Did you always feel like a man?

Posted on by Holden Madagame

Me and my girlfriend at CSD Berlin 2015

When I was a kid, I never thought I was a boy, and never necessarily wanted to be a boy. I was very comfortable in ‘boys clothes’ and happy doing ‘boy things’ like play video games or run around in the woods climbing trees and building forts.

I never felt like a boy though, I always felt like a child, which I was. Although I of course grew up with female pronouns and a female name, and occasionally had to put on a dress for the yearly Christmas concert in St. Ignace (despite my loud complaints) my parents did a pretty amiable job of raising me as gender neutral as possible.

This was not because they were super liberal, nor because they were conscious of my eventual queerness/transness, but rather because as far as Catholic families were concerned, sexuality was not something that existed except for procreation. Thus, in as far as gender pertains to sexuality, gender expression was irrelevant, since I would be a heterosexual female regardless of whether I liked wearing dresses or not.

It’s worth noting that I also grew up in a very rural part of Michigan, where gender expression for women has a lot more flexibility than it does in a city. It’s hard to explain, but if you’re interested in this concept, I’d take a look at ‘Female Masculinity‘.

As a child, I didn’t really have any feelings about my gender. I wasn’t frustrated about being a girl, or angry that boys got to do certain things, because my parents didn’t put those restrictions on me. I could play basketball, I could do karate, I wore the clothes I wanted and had the friends I wanted. My friends (regardless of gender) could sleep over without my parents worrying that anything would happen, because I was a good girl.

A major part of this unfortunately was that we never talked about sex, and I was more or less an asexual creature until college. That’s just how things were, and why people often call themselves recovering Catholics. Despite even having many queer female friends, I had no idea I was queer until college, because my sexuality in general (let alone my queer sexuality) was so repressed.

I only started to have some frustration with my gender at the end of high school, when I needed to learn how to put on make-up and do my hair for singing auditions. This was a crucial part of my development as a female musician, and I will be forever grateful for it. I still didn’t feel like a ‘man’, but rather an awkward girl who had never put on make-up before. It never registered to me that I might be trans, but I did understand that I wasn’t like other kids in a very visceral way. I wasn’t feminine, nor particularly masculine. My only priorities were being valedictorian, getting a scholarship to college, and doing singing competitions.

Something I’m going to note here, and perhaps it’s a bit of a spoiler but: I don’t identify as a man. When you look at me, you see a man, and you use he/him pronouns. I do use he/him pronouns, but almost no one ever asks anymore, even though they know that I’m trans. They assume he/him because I have taken testosterone (read more at MantalityDirect.com) and have had top-surgery. None of those things mean that I identify as a man, and they don’t mean you can assume that my pronouns are he/him. Always, always ask for pronouns.

Back to the story though. The nuances of my gender a topic for another, much longer article.

When I was in college and just starting my degree in voice, I felt very comfortable with my awkward female gender as it was. I was happy wearing dresses that I liked, happy to put on makeup on my terms, and happy to do my hair. Nothing about that really bothered me. Sometimes I felt that I had an inferior femininity to other women, and that bothered me, but I never had an inherent sense that my femininity was wrong or not real.

Sophomore year (second year of uni for you non-Americans), I came out as a gay woman. That was a very comfortable, exciting, and terrifying place to be. I felt so accepted by the community, and my person-hood made so much more sense in the context of the queer community. I read Autostraddle and Effing Dykes, just like every good little baby queer, and felt at peace. Not everything fit into place though.

Something about the balance of my femininity and masculinity frustrated me. People expected me to act more masculine in certain scenarios than I was comfortable with, and some people expected me to be more feminine in certain scenarios than I was comfortable with. I would want to put on heels and not be butch enough for the types of girls who would want me, and then when I put on a tie I was too butch. The decisions I made were necessarily informed by the lesbian community around me, and I followed the rules. I wasn’t always comfortable, but having a code to follow made life a lot easier.

This particular instance of my sexuality and gender I find interesting, because it has nothing to be with ‘being a man.’

There is a subset of people in the world who are both very transphobic and homophobic, and will lead you to believe that I ‘transitioned’ because I wanted the ‘power’ that came with being male, and because my ‘natural desire’ for women made itself apparent, by way of me ‘transitioning’ to become a ‘man’. None of this is true. It’s all bullshit. My sexuality and my gender is much more complicated than ‘straight’ and ‘gay’ desires.

I had one person ask me how I felt to now be a ‘straight man’ and I almost spit my drink out at them.

One thing I was never comfortable with as a lesbian, was the fact that I knew I wasn’t really a lesbian. Somewhere inside of me, I knew that I wasn’t just attracted to women. I was attracted to men, trans people, and non-binary people. The scariest thing was finding myself sometimes attracted to men. In a way, it felt like a type of ‘closeted’ feeling, because it would be much too embarrassing, and possibly socially suicidal to admit that I was bi, especially presenting as a sort of masculine woman. My experience up to that point was that only femmey women were bi. Bi women didn’t look like me. More bullshit, for the record.

What did that mean for me a lesbian? It’s something I needed to keep to myself. Biphobia in the lesbian community at the time I was in college was a pretty big thing. Even some of my closest friends would say offhand things about bi women who would ‘just leave you for a guy’ and were ‘untrustworthy’. Bullshit that luckily most of them have grown out of.

During this time that I was out as a gay woman, I also later started to identify as genderqueer, but didn’t talk about it with many people. I started to play with my appearance, and felt comfortable having that internal identity, and didn’t feel it was necessary to share it. Who would I share it with?

The rest is, as they say, history…But history which you can read in this post about My Second (Very Public) Coming Out.

TL;DR I don’t identify as a man, I identify as non-binary with he/him pronouns. I used to identify as a woman and was very happy until I wasn’t happy anymore.

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Why is it rude to ask a trans* person what their birth name was?

Posted on by Holden Madagame

If you are a cisgender person, it’s almost certainly crossed your mind: what was their name before? If you don’t know better, you’ve asked, and probably gotten a response ranging from uncomfortable to outright offended. This might have made you confused and probably also upset. You were just asking a question, how were you supposed to know?

This is controversial to say, but it’s true: how are you supposed to know unless we tell you?

Well, here I am, and I’m telling you now: please don’t ask a trans* person what their name was before they came out.

To which you have another question: WHY is it rude to ask a trans* person their birth name?

It’s a great question, and one that I wish we could talk about more, because The More You Know, the less you’ll fuck up.

Let me tell you a little story: You’re very sick and have to go to the hospital. The doctor constantly wants things checked out, and you’re not sure if you’re going to survive. You feel awful, you look awful, your eyes are caved in and your skin is tattered from the needles they inject into you and the pills they give you. You can barely eat or drink, but you know that to stay alive you have to. You constantly want to sleep, but you still have to go to work. Every time you go to work, people treat you like shit, because they don’t know you’re sick. You’re hiding it pretty well, but it makes you mean and irritable, or at the very least boring. You start to wonder whether it’s worth it to stay alive, because you’re just not acting like yourself anymore.

You eventually recover, and start to feel ok. You meet someone new, and you mention that you were sick once. They ask for a picture.

“A picture of what?” you ask.

“A picture of when you were sick,” they say.

“I don’t really want to show you a picture, that was a really bad time for me,” you say.

They are confused. “But I’m really curious. Can’t you just show me a picture, what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t really see why it’s important. I’m not sick anymore,” you say, trying to laugh it off and move on.

They’re not laughing and look disappointed. “I won’t say anything weird, I promise.”

You’re tired and want the conversation to end so you pull out a picture on your phone and show it to them. It was the night before you almost killed yourself, before you started to get better.

“Wow, you look really pretty. You’re super thin too, you don’t have anything to be ashamed about,” they say in earnest.

You were barely eating anything and wearing 5 layers of make up to cover up the thin, sickly color of your skin. Besides that, it was a really weird thing to say, but you don’t want them to get angry at you, because they gave you a compliment. “Thanks…I guess.”

For the record, I’m absolutely not saying that transgender people are “sick,” but we do sometimes need medical attention in the form of hormones and surgeries, and most of us at least think about killing ourselves or actually succeed in doing so.

Asking for my birth name immediately takes me back to that place where I was depressed and unhappy with my gender. Just asking. That name is forever ingrained into my brain, and I have to deal with it every time I open the mail box, go to the doctor’s office, open emails, get on a flight and have to show my passport, etc. I live in fear that when I go to the doctor’s they’ll call my dead name. I try and forget, but bureaucracy doesn’t let me. When someone else asks me my name, they are forcing me to think about that time when I was deeply, deeply unhappy.

Not only does it make me unhappy, but it makes me feel in danger. Perhaps in Europe you may think I’ll sound daft, but in America, trans* people (especially trans women of color) are being killed every day. Trans woman of color are murdered every day, people commit suicide left and right, and trans people are more likely to become homeless because the system doesn’t protect us. Germany is different and I do feel protected by the system regarding my gender, but that little voice saying, “What if they beat you up? What if they kick you out? What if that guy over there sees the name on your credit card and decides to give you trouble? What if someone sent you to jail? You’d die in jail. You’ll have to go to the male prison now, and you won’t survive.”

“I didn’t know!” you might scream to yourself, feeling defensive about having asked.

It’s ok. You’re right, you didn’t know. You’re not a bad person. Just move on, and don’t do it again.

Still confused? Still have questions? I invite you to become a patron on my Patreon page. There you’ll have the chance to participate in discussions with other patrons, access to group discussions, individual Skype sessions, and to support content like this. Just click the button below for more information.

 

Learn, Converse, Contribute: Spreading Activism with Patreon

Posted on by Holden Madagame

The past year has been a whirlwind; following my summer experiences as a member of the Glyndebourne Academy, I moved to a small German town where I’ve been doing more and more singing. When I came out as trans* and started testosterone I let go of my expectations of being a regularly working singer, but here we are! This season I’ve done a decent amount of chorus work, and also debuted as an astonishingly well-casted Wenzel in ‘Die verkaufte Braut’ with the Brandenburgisches Konzertorchester (a professional group performing in a gorgeous medieval ruin just outside Berlin). I’ve continued to do a range of auditions whilst refining my repertoire and developing my technical abilities. The more work I get, the more I want. I’m now sufficiently confident about my vocal abilities and can really go for the roles I want; I know that I have good things to offer to any new projects that come my way.

One thing that was missing though was doing the activism I wanted to be doing. Doing face-to-face activism is important to me. I continue to open conversations, answer questions, reply to personal emails and address the myriad of misunderstandings and fears about trans* life as a matter of course, no matter how exhausted I am, or how difficult the questions. But I’ve not been writing articles or making videos because these activities are just too time consuming to combine with my money earning jobs of opera singing and language teaching. Yet these are the things that friends, acquaintances, and the interweb generally keep asking me for. Just when I start to relax and think, “Ah, no one really watches those things anyway,” I’ll check my accounts and there will be more views, wider engagement, deeper questions, more specific requests, confused comments, etc. Basically, people looking to me for answers and support that I so desperately want to provide but just don’t currently have the capacity for.

This is why I am opening a Patreon profile. I have activism that I want to do, and I have followers and friends who want me to do it. So I am opening a channel for people to contribute money which will allow me to free up time to create this content and engage with people on these topics.

If you haven’t heard of it, let me explain how it works:

With Patreon, a person offers a product of some kind (for me this means articles, videos, and similar content) and people become patrons of this person directly. They pledge this person a set amount of money each month to support what this person creates. This can start at 1€, with the sky being the limit. The artist creates rewards, and the patron receives a choice of special privileges.

Historically, patronage has made a massive contribution (both literally and figuratively) to art and politics. I don’t believe this is any different nowadays. The platform for patronage has simply transformed into things like Patreon, Kickstarter, Indiegogo, etc.

What I want to create is more content relating to activism and singing, and to nurture  a virtual space for questions, discussion, and communication about trans*ness and singing. To do this, and to grow and develop as an artist and an activist I want to give supporters a concrete platform for giving me financial support.

What will you get? My main priority is to be able to make the articles and videos freely available, so that everyone can benefit from this, the contributions are primarily to help make this possible. That said, patrons receive extra rewards as a thank you for their support. Some options are; patron-only content, access to community forums and events, name in the credits of my videos, monthly online topic centered discussions, and individual Skype sessions with yours truly. I think these are pretty rad rewards, but if you have other ideas about perks that you’d like, I’m all ears!

Interested in becoming a patron? SAVE THE DATE: on Tuesday, July 24th I’ll officially be launching my Patreon page, and I invite you to become my patron. You’ll receive exclusive content through the Patreon platform, your name in the credits of my videos, monthly group discussions on  topics of my patrons choosing, and an individual Skype session, according to contribution.

Still have questions? Ask me! The point of my Patreon is to connect with you, answer your questions, and start discussions on topics we’re both interested in!