GIRLBOY: InBetween

A good human passed away recently, and in one of our last conversations he asked me;

what are you putting off?

If i knew that time was running out, what is it that I would be doing? What have I not yet done? What am I putting off and why?
I knew the answer before he asked, and this is it.

GIRLBOY: InBetween, is a piece I’ve been working on in the background of my life for almost 3 years. It started when I inherited my mother’s journals. I came across the entry in which she first discovered she was pregnant with me. She learns from an ultrasound that there is a 98% likelihood that I will come into this world with the designation “female”.

Throughout my life, my mother has always expressed to me how much she wanted a daughter. I came out to her as genderqueer/genderfucked almost a decade ago now, and have since taken steps to medically transition to find a better balance within myself. Being transgender has been a journey, and this work in progress is snippets of that journey.

This piece weaves together music, and storytelling, to unpack experiences of gender and gendered expectations.

It is a work in progress, as are most of the things in my life, and at this point, it feels like time to share it.

3 nights of performance; a variety of sliding scale options. Each night will feature 2 guest artists who will share their art with you. Come and be a part of the magic that happens when communities come together to witness each other’s journeys.

Intersections and White Privilege

I wanted to share this story. It’s not mine, but for what it’s worth–and whoever is reading this, if there’s a chance that another person’s story will bring you closer to understanding the complexity of identity and all it’s cross roads, this is worth posting.

On Gender / Race / Brownness and creating a world with more understanding

This brought me close to tears for a number of reasons

1) the trans-man/male narrative is limiting, suffocating, and another box
2) the process of checking boxes at a Gender Identity Clinic is a classist, ableist, white supremacist process to say the least, and is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately
3) name change, body hair, surgery…it’s what you do to be a “trans man”. the system makes it out to be who you are, but it’s not
4) pulling together pieces in the daily unpacking of my evolving white male privilege, my non-binary identity, and reconciling that with the multiple intersections and identities that I exist alongside

Also. I still ovulate alongside my estrogen-based communal housemates, and I think I’m getting close to that time of the month so yeah. All the feels.

Pronouns Shmonouns!

I’ve been using They/Them/Their pronouns for 9 years now. At first, I never enforced it. Cut people a lot of slack, made excuses for folks. People often defaulted to “she/her/hers” back then, which was incredibly frustrating and I felt the need to overcompensate in my masculinity in other ways. I began saying “my pronouns are they/them OR he/him/his” based on the fact that I wanted to give folks an easier out, but it still wasn’t what I wanted. When I started HRT, people began to default to “he” pronouns, which was better, but STILL not how I identified.

After advocating for, and leading the beginning of a “Gender creative” cabin for the youth organization I work with, spending time with so many youth who don’t see themselves represented, or feel like they can even begin to ask for the pronouns which they identify with, I’ve changed my stance.

My pronouns are They/Them/Theirs…I do not have a “gender pronoun preference”, I just have gender pronouns and these are them. The last 3 years, I’ve strongly advocated for the youth I work with to have their pronouns respected, and their identities reflected in how others learn to refer to them. I can’t do with work for them without advocating and believing that the same is important when it comes to me.

 

For further references AND practice material, check out this post!

http://thebodyisnotanapology.com/magazine/pronouns-and-misgendering/

A Boy Called Everything

Recent performance with the talented wordsmith/spoken word artist, Dia Davina

“A Boy Called Everything”
Words- Dia Davina
Music/Song- Gavin Kade

“HELLO, Ladies”

Sitting in a café with a friend when the server approaches us. I’ve barely removed my layers from being out in the cold, and I hear the words that make me want to keep my layers on and leave.

“Hello ladies…”

I cringe, I freeze, and I feel the old lurch in my stomach as it turns into knots while I practice my outside composure of keeping calm and carrying on.

*

“Keep calm and carry on”
It’s what we’re taught and told
And the older we grow
The more we should know
About not to assume
When strangers enter the room.

“To assume makes an ass out of you and me”
See it’s something we all hear
And as the words live in the back of our heads
They just as quickly disappear. 

“Ladies” isn’t a bad thing to be
When I hear it, I think
You can’t mean me

“Whoops I read you wrong.
Or did I read you right?”
In my panic to respond
It’s fight or flight.

I’ve had to learn
That the bridges I burn will help no one grow
And so
I sit with my unease
Remind myself that “ladies” isn’t a disease
Tease apart the word from the assumption
Muscle up some gumption
And calmly converse in a way others can relate. 

Once upon a time
The upset would be
Because you mis-gendered me
And now it’s a different cup of tea. 

This still beating heart
That was once a spade
Gendered words
Quickly dug my grave
I crawled my way out
Cradled my head
Now I shout
For the he-she-they
You know nothing about.

*

When we talk about assumptions, we know we shouldn’t make them. Words like “ladies” and “gentlemen” or “hey guys” “what’s up girls?” are such an every day part of our language that we rarely challenge. Words that are so often used, the majority of people don’t even realize that in those moments, we are making incredibly impactful assumptions.

My friend left the table and I called over our server. I asked for her name, shook her hand and introduced myself.
I brought up that when she first approached the table, she used greeted us as “ladies”, and while being a lady can be a wonderful thing for some, it’s definitely not how I identify. She acknowledged that when she said it, she felt immediately like she’d said something wrong, but didn’t really know what else to say.

I asked her if she knew anything about gender spectrum/identity and she said not much.
I brought up how in greeting guests/patrons in non-gender specific ways, we’re removing basic assumptions we’re making in our perception of someone else’s gender identity, and that by doing so, we’re able to create a more inclusive and welcoming space for all.

The server then told me of a different time, where she used the term “ladies” and the guest/patron became visibly agitated and upset, she had no idea of what other terms to use, or how to make that person feel better. She asked me, what other terms might be used in greeting guests.

I suggested things like “Welcome” or “hey folks” (this was by no means a fancy establishment. I understand that changing the culture of fine-dining experiences and what management and the predominant clientele would expect from those situations will be a different kind of explaining/language and learning) or something more of a self-introduction “Hi, my name is ___________, and I’ll be your server today! Is there anything I can start you off with?”

You see, there are so many ways we can greet people without making these assumptions that are so ingrained in us, and just as people evolve, so does the language we use.

*

I know you didn’t mean any harm
So it must come as an alarm
To realize that some people might question
The common perception of what others might see
In relation to their identity

I try not to let it show
But more times than I care to admit
I’m put into a box that just doesn’t fit
That just doesn’t fit
And that’s not the half of it.

To these rules of engagement
There is so much to learn
This is my statement
The tables must turn.

*

In these moments, I’ve come to a place where I can hold those conversations without losing my shit. I’ve become my own advocate, because I’ve had to. I hope and dream of a time when these assumptions aren’t made, because they affect and impact more people than most would realize.

*

So I don’t become the angry person
Who’s forced to always educate
Let me re-iterate
You don’t have to relate

*

I don’t always want to be the one to have these conversations. I have them, because I have to. I have them, because the next person who walks through the door, might not yet be able to say what they need to feel okay in their skin, and my saying something now might change that interaction.

*

Breathe deep and try not to take things personally.
Personally. Person-ally? Person. Ally.
I’m just one person looking for an ally.

*

 

My Queerness

“Queer”, has always been a part of my identity.

“Queer” has been a part of me for as long as I’ve been able to self identify, moving from that place of just being into really observing, acknowledging, and finding comfort in a label, instead of just fear or hurt.

“Queer”, has felt to me like a safety blanket from the first time I heard the word and wrapped it around myself as if to keep warm from the cold, and keep the bad words out.

 

Queer is broad enough to explain my open love, my all encompassing attraction, my strange desires and my unwillingness to fit into the gender binary.

Queer is my both my want, and my being.

 

Since coming out, some ten years ago, I have spoken openly, honestly, fiercely and passionately about my queerness, and that is something I wear as often as I know how.

 

Lately, when speaking of my first queer experience, people give me confused glances like I must have said something wrong, or inaccurate.

 

I speak of the first time I kissed a girl. I was twelve, and I knew right then and there from the pounding of my heart and wetness between my legs that I was feeling something that maybe, I wasn’t suppose to feel. Maybe, I was only supposed to feel like this with boys. Back then I looked like a girl.

 

Fast-forward 14 years and I’m 26. Today, I’m 2 years into HRT, trying to find the balance between boy and girl of body that matches mind. Today, when I speak of my first experience with queerness to strangers, they see the boy first and rarely understand. It is at this junction where I stand between the choices of a short answer like “I was assigned female at birth, but that’s not how I identify” OR a much longer explanation. The funny thing, is that often times neither will really allow the individual or persons to take in and understand, unless they’ve had experiences with gender-queerness before me.

 

“We have a tendency to believe that people’s histories begin when we meet them”.

I can’t remember who said this or where I saw this quote, but it stands out to me and often wanders it’s way to the front lobes of my brain.

 

Like I said, I’m looking for a balance. I don’t identify as “a man” nor do I as a “woman”, but somewhere in between. I believe that gender is both biological and social in construct, and it’s in that social construct that people now often drop me into the “he” category…yes, “he” feels more right than “she”, but this brings me to something else—gender pronouns. I am not a man, nor am I trying to be one. You should know that my gender pronoun is not a preference, it just –is-. I use “they/them/their” pronouns intentionally, because to me, those are the pronouns that best encompass who I am and my lived experiences.

 

“WHAT! There’s more than just girls/boys & women/men??” Yes. People are starting to understand gender as more than something we are assigned at birth, and recognize that there are more than 2 options.

 

When we talk pronouns, we’re talking basic levels of respecting an individual’s right to self identify. It’s not about you, or what you might consider to be proper grammar, language is forever evolving, as are the people who use it. Folks who use pronouns other than “he/him/his” or “she/her/hers” [example] are doing the best they can to express themselves in a world where language dictates how we identify one another and ourselves. Use of other personal pronouns is a way to better get to know someone, and respect who they say they are.

 

My Queerness comes in so many colours, and I’m sure it will have many evolutions throughout my lifetime.

 

Gender defines us [as does race, ability, size, class and countless other things]. By saying things like, “I don’t see gender”, “I don’t see race”…we’re erasing the differences that make us beautiful.

 

When I tell you about my Queerness, I’m saying “See me, see my difference, love me for all of it”. If I tell you that I use “they/them/their” pronouns, it’s because I care enough to tell you who I am. Hear me, and listen, not just to me but to anyone who cares enough to share with you who they are.

BUTCH: Not Like the Other Girls

Sitting in a motel room, Revelstoke BC.

I happened across a Kickstarter Campaign called BUTCH: Not like the other girls.

Something caught me about this Kickstarter, as I’ve seen many over the last year that just explode and get tons of funding and attention, seemingly out of nowhere.

What caught me about this one?
BUTCH has 1 month left of its funding campaign and has only reached 30% of its fundraising goal.

Why?

*****

I’m about to run a 3-day workshop with youth here in Revelstoke, working with them to name the roots of bullying; what causes it? Why do people hate on each other? How do stereotypes get reinforced? How do people get shoved into boxes day after day after…

We know we “bully” each other for our differences. I use the word in quotations because we also should know that bullying has many other names; sexism, racism, ableism, heterosexism (homophobia) and those are just a few.

When we name these forms of discrimination, we’re taking a stand. When we name “bullying” for what it is, we’re really saying this is bigger than an individual case, it’s bigger than me and it’s bigger than you. It’s what we’ve been taught to value, and I won’t take it anymore because it’s not right.

When we name “bullying” for what it really is, we are realigning our values and learning to truly see our differences. We are making a commitment to recognize where the inequalities are, align our actions with our values, and make a shift.

Elementary school, I was bullied a lot. Like most kids, the [not knowing] why haunted me in ways I know still affect me today.
In high school, I was a tomboy. I didn’t get along with other girls, I didn’t quite fit in with guys, but by then, I’d become pretty enough so I got to slide under the radar.

BUTCH has never been a word I’ve used to describe myself. Early on, I learned to push away my “masculine” female self. I could see myself as a boy, but not Butch. From what I learned, to be Butch was to be undesired and undesirable.

Today, I still don’t see myself as Butch, but I can see BUTCH as BEAUTIFUL.

Butch

Is often misunderstood

Butch

Is another reason to get teased on the playground

Butch

Is not synonymous with LESBIAN or GAY

But it can be

Butch

Is another way to define female

Butch

Is a way of being that feels like it’s going extinct

Butch

Is a beautiful identity that needs to be shared and celebrated

*****

So why should you support this Kickstarter Campaign?

I believe this project is a way to embrace an identity that is marginalized, and often told to disappear.
We know that the media representations we see affect how we act, how we treat people. Let’s broaden the representations that exist and #supportdifference.

All identities are beautiful, so let’s show people that we believe this can be true.

You can share and support this campaign here

Imagine the impact of celebrating the ever-expanding representation of gender; of who and how we can be. This is one way to show you mean it.

“Scared” [Workshop/Presentation]

So this past summer [June 2013] I wrote my first play. I submitted an application for an emerging artist festival based on the premise of a play I wanted to write, got accepted and it was all the motivation I needed to start and finish writing my first full length play.

The play I wrote, GirlBoy, inspired me to want to do more. Take my experiences around gender and workshop them into something that could impact folks on another level.

These past couple of days, I’ve been fortunate enough to begin experimenting with what that could look like. I’d been invited, while in Montreal, to give a couple of lecture/workshops to a class at Vanier CEGEP on Writing in the Periphery.

I chose the headline “Gender & Identity, the impact of Representation (or lack there of) in Media and Literature” and began by giving the class a guided introductory writing exercise. Opening up the floor to discussion, some sharing and moving through the afore mentioned topic.
Addressing fairly common concepts of static gender [the fixed ideals of “male”, “female” and stereotypes that follow] and moving the group further into questioning “What else is there? What don’t we talk about? How does our societal construct of gender limit people? What is the impact of this?”. Opening dialogue around experiences of gender that don’t fit neatly into boxes.
I chose to share an excerpt from GirlBoy before moving into a short film of 9 *trans folks speaking to their personal experiences [The Order of Things by Judy Ruzlo], then ended with an open Q&A space.

Below, you’ll find the piece from GirlBoy entitled “Scared” [Original piece © Gavin Kade Somers 2013]

~

I’m scared.

I’m scared to show you what is underneath this shirt. Underneath this shirt, you’ll find a vest, holding down more than the flesh that grew when I told it not to, flesh that grew and told me who I was suppose to be, 1 letter more than he, add the S to get she, and she comes with a whole different set of rules. There aren’t enough tools in this kit to tell you how to piece together the broken parts that she left behind, and I’ll remind you that the boy you’re looking at now somehow grew from a …not so “traditional” past. You see, fast growing up but slow to “develop”, whatever the fuck that really means. Lean and tall, back pressed against a wall and I would learn to hate the attention that this small chest could bring, would bring, and I wanted it gone. Long before I would learn that this boy lived inside of me and wanted out, this chest brought about a whole lot of what I never asked for. The ways I walk and talk become a shield from them. The men, who would otherwise see me as meat, treat me as some sort of second sex, disguise me from the girls I didn’t like, who talked about boys and magazines like it might be some sort of salvation. The station I would choose to occupy would be as a spy, learning from the boys before becoming men, dancing and dating girls when learning how to steal hearts and other parts of knowledge that would wedge it’s way so deep into my being that it would become who I now am.

I tore down what the world said I was and found who I could be, some sort of balanced halfway in between boy, girl, man, woman, gender-fucking being to stand a middle line, find new ways to define gender and this bender I’m on isn’t of the drink, it’s thinking I can change the world by being something that doesn’t exist.

It’s hard to resist the temptation of giving in, and sitting on this fence gives me an awful lot of pain. The structure of this game dictates it would be easier if I could just choose, what stops me is thinking about all I would lose.

You see, my identity is boy, my passport says girl, and this body is somewhere in between.

These breasts I bind remind me that I have lived my sister’s pain. This game we play isn’t so fair to Her, and sure. I’d love for them to be gone, but the wrongs done by Her remind me of who I want to be. I’ll stand in my discomfort, invisible from outside this shirt, cause the privilege I carry from passing means that I am safe in a way that she is not, that this shot I have to make a change comes from being able to stand here and tell you now, I have seen how this plays out.

We want to believe we live in a world where we are all born equal, but the sequel of my former self can tell you otherwise.  The undermining is subtle, and most days, we don’t even know how to recognize the gaps. This time lapse has shown me like the flip-book, pictures took and drawn in motion to show the commotion of what it means to be a girl and how it changed when I became a boy.

Yes, I wish I had been born without these breasts, but in this balance I have to ask is it because I feel like I’m a boy, or because the burden that came with them, marked at birth. For now, I’m a boy with a different kind of chest. I can’t rest, so ask me the stories, of same situations to a different sex.

I’m scared.

I’m scared to show you what is underneath this shirt, but I’m more scared thinking who I might have been without what’s there now.