Some Thoughts on Visibility

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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