QUEERLY TRANS

Would This Trans Man Go Stealth, If He Could?

Response to “Logan’s Corner” Writing Prompt: “Transition Goals”

CW: Deadnaming, misgendering, surgeries, binding, and other physical forms of transition mentioned in passing

The rush of adrenaline came in waves, as the weight of what had just happened sunk in on different levels.

The first wave was personal. I had clicked on a link in a work email, inviting me to begin using their system to clock-in for my shifts, only to see my deadname pop up unexpectedly in big letters.

With that name came so many memories. It’s a person that I don’t want to be anymore. It’s a person who I have distanced myself from socially and medically. It’s a version of me that I will make great efforts to erase legally. Most importantly, it’s a person that was never real. It was the person that I was forced to pretend to be throughout most of my life, an acting role that I played to please people, until I believed I was someone I’m not.

As I became familiar with the clock-in system, the second humiliating wave of adrenaline hit.

All of my coworkers could now see this name and know that it was associated with me. My deadname had been outed to the entire staff, who had only ever known me as a trans man.

It felt like my most embarrassing childhood secret had just been shared with my whole professional circle. Sure, they all knew I was trans, but they didn’t have a word to solidify that false gendering of me in their heads. I thought I had moved past this by changing jobs and meeting a whole new group of people who’d never known me before my transition. I thought that these coworkers would have a better chance of seeing a more authentic version of me.

I’d never been misgendered at that job prior to that moment, but it wasn’t long before I had written proof that I was no longer seen as a man. An email began with a plural noun meant to include me, a noun that should never have been linked to me. That’s not my gender. It was a response to that false name they saw, that deadname. The flowery, extensive apologies only reinforced that any acknowledgment of my true gender amounted to humoring me.

This moment, along with many other moments like this, would eventually lead me to submit the formal complaint that coincidentally resulted in me getting fired from my job the next morning.

To many cis people and perhaps to some trans people, moments like these probably seem like lots of unnecessary little anthills to die on. To me, they weren’t small problems.

To many cis people and perhaps to some trans people, moments like these probably seem like lots of unnecessary little anthills to die on. To me, they weren’t small problems. Misgendering has felt worse to me over time.

In the months that followed, my performance at work plummeted. I struggled to care or be motivated at all. I felt alienated and alone. Before each shift, I’d make a list in my mind of things I wanted to accomplish. Then, I’d see my deadname and just stare into the screen uselessly as the hours floated by. It was like I’d ceased to exist. I often forgot to even take breaks or go to lunch because I couldn’t even focus for self-care. As I floated back to the surface, it was time to clock out and look at that name again.

Writing or reading here helped to revive me from the fog I was often lost in, to remind me that I existed, alongside people like me with stories worth reading.

These are problems that could theoretically disappear if I went stealth.

How could I be banished to the misgendering fog, if no one knew how to send me there? A name is powerful, for better or worse. The absence of one can be an immense source of protection.

This could be accomplished with the help of Testosterone, a name change, wading through lots of bureaucracy, cutting all ties with my past, and quietly disappearing to wherever it is that so many trans men and some trans women go after their transitions are “complete”.

It’s possible. As the picture above shows, there were lots of little things I could do to pass as a man even before I began taking Testosterone. I could put in that effort again and watch myself become indistinguishable from a cis man.

As the picture above shows, there were lots of little things I could do to pass as a man even before I began taking Testosterone.

Is that what I want to happen? Do I want to disappear?

Sometimes I feel like that’s the goal of misgendering and deadnaming: to make me disappear.

I don’t think people who decide to go stealth should be judged any more than people who need to remain in the closet for their safety. We all deserve compassion for the ways that we take care of ourselves, even when our paths are very different. We aren’t all on equal footing in our journeys. We are the only ones qualified to decide how we each walk through this gender maze.

That said, I’m really fighting the urge to go stealth as a trans man, even if it would make my life so much easier.

For one thing, as a non-binary trans man, stealth life could never feel truly authentic.

I’m not just a man. I’m a trans man. At this moment, I’m primarily in transition, so I choose to put this adjective before the noun to describe me. As a late transitioner, I have a lifetime of valuable experiences that I don’t want erased. I want this acknowledged.

There are also efforts that I find myself less and less willing to make to accommodate people who refuse to see me as a man without me jumping through some painful, expensive hoops. I used to wear a binder, choosing the appearance of manliness over easy breathing. I don’t anymore.

I don’t want to have surgeries to prove what I already know. I’m still a man without them, though I do miss being able to swim and hate that there are some other manly experiences I’m going to miss out on by not having any surgeries.

Also…

What if there are people out there who need someone like me to be visible?

I’ve acutely felt the absence of people in my life who have been through journeys like mine. Though I love spending time with my trans feminine siblings, I wish I had more trans masculine people to talk to about things that come up. The conversations with fellow trans people that I’ve found in spaces like the Medium have been so precious to me!

I want to be present for people who may need someone to ask questions to down the road. I want people who have lost family to always have a brother they can come to for support. Even if all that I do is read or listen, I know that it is incredibly helpful to know that someone who understands is present.

I cannot offer that, if I vanish.

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