In a conversation with Lauren Miller last week, I asked a question about the relationship between where she and I have grown up and our identification as transgender. (For reference, I grew up in the US; Lauren will have to say where she did in the comments.) Truth be told, I was nowhere near as eloquent as the above, but bear with me on that — the way I worded it above was how I meant it.
This is an interesting thought that I have not found a good way to integrate into a larger article, so here is that thought in short form. Luckily (for all concerned), there will be no references.
Identity and Transgender
I have written (here and here) about how I believe identity forms. In brief, identity is a composite of genetics, psychology, and sociology — the chemistry of the body, the thoughts that we form, and the society that reacts to our created physical structure and set of beliefs. The transgender experience, then, is heavily dependent on the society in which it is experienced.
Let me explain, however, how I define “the transgender experience.” I come from a chemistry background, and the terms cis and trans are related to the configuration of groups around a carbon-carbon double bond. In this definition, there are only two configurations: either both groups are located on one side of the double bond or the groups are located on opposite sides of the double bond. (For reference, the use of these terms is from the Latin “this side” or “the other side,” as explained in the Wikipedia link above.)
“Cisgender” has been defined (at least colloquially) as “identifying with the gender role commonly associated with the genotype.” That is, males are associated with masculine gender characteristics, females with feminine characteristics. “Transgender” has come to mean (much more colloquially) “not cisgender.” That is, if you do not identify with the gender role commonly associated with your genotype, you are — by definition — transgender.
Perhaps I am too old and stodgy, or perhaps I am too ingrained in chemistry etymology, but I believe that there is a difference between “not cisgender” and “transgender.” That is, you may not identify with the gender role commonly associated with your genotype, but unless you also identify with the gender role commonly associated with the opposite genotype, you qualify as “not cisgender” in my book, not “transgender.”
I am not trying to exclude anybody from any group or devolve into a discussion of transmedicalism. All I intend to say with the above is that it is absolutely possible not to identify with either gender role. This is, of course, the nonbinary experience, and I think the idea of a spectrum ranging from extremes of cisgender to transgender makes perfect sense. No position in the spectrum is “good” or “bad.” Every position in the spectrum simply is. In the visible spectrum of light, red is not better in any way than blue. They both exist in the spectrum without evaluation, and red is still not the same as blue.
The Contextual Nature of Gender Roles
It is with this definition that we observe gender roles around us. In the Western world, our society is very quick to characterize behavior — fashion, affectations, emotions, vocations — as either masculine or feminine. These characterizations stem from history: some of it relatively recent, some of it relatively far in the past. Some of the characterizations stem from the predominant religions in the Western world, and some of them have been reinforced by marketing because they made money in the past.
All of them, however, are contextual to Western society. That is, gender roles are different in other parts of the world. (I know, as a member of the Western world, you may find it difficult to believe that there really are other parts of the world, but trust me on this one.)
This brings up my question, then: were I raised in another society — if I had not been exposed to how the Western world rolls up behavior into masculine and feminine — would I still feel the need to identify myself with the word “transgender?”
To be clear, I do not believe that my underlying identity would be different because I was born in another society. I believe that the fashion, the affectations, the emotions, and the vocations that I find attractive would be the same. But if the gender roles in my (fictitious) society did not put that behavior into a group commonly associated with my opposite genotype, I would not qualify as “not cisgender,” and certainly not “transgender.”
My argument demands that the transgender experience takes into account the complete human identity. No one aspect of genetics, biochemistry, hormonal balance, brain structure, psychology, beliefs, childhood, and the environment in which all of the above occurs is responsible for the transgender experience. Rather, it is the influence of all of the above — along with the indefinable soul that I have mentioned — that defines the transgender experience. It is the soul that I believe coagulates all of the above into behavior as a response to the stimulus, and it is the soul that remains — for the moment — elusive enough to make me consider my own experience.
