The Loss of One's Queer Identity - A Possible Consequence of Transition

It’s been quite a while since I have posted anything to my blog, life has been busy; however, with June being pride month I have a few different topics on my mind which I would like to discuss and share.

When I still identified as male and came out for the first time as a gay man, I found safety, comfort, and acceptance within the queer community. I finally felt like I could truly be myself – though not yet realizing that deep down I had locked away my truest identity. Back then, the early experience of immersing myself into the queer community was something I so desperately needed.

Up until this point, I was raised within a Roman Catholic household and while my immediate family never outwardly discussed homosexuality as being wrong or sinful, knowing the underlying beliefs that came with Catholicism was enough to make me feel as if I would have to hide that part of me forever. That combined with the not always so subtle homophobic taunts and comments that came with going to high school in a small mining town in the early 2000s, I constantly had to mask that part of myself.

Fast forward to first year university, where I moved to the “big city” for the first time, I came out to my friends and family. I immediately immersed myself into the queer community, finding more friendships then I ever really thought possible. It was such a happy place to be, and truly felt at the time like everything was all sunshine and rainbows. The euphoria that came with finally being myself – as much myself as I possible could not yet realizing I was trans – was beyond compare. I no longer felt like I had to hide certain mannerisms, I felt like I could openly discuss my dating interests and talk about issues affecting the queer community. I felt at home. Sure, fully immersing myself into the queer community did unfortunately result in me diving head on into the party scene and developing my issues with addiction, but that had more to do with my own personal internal struggles than anything else and not a reflection on the community itself.

In this journey of early self-discovery, I became more confident and started to learn to love myself again. I finally felt like I had a place that I belonged to. I was often easily “clocked” as a queer man, and I didn’t care. I loved being able to wear that part of my identity proudly, open for all to see. This part of my identity opened up so many opportunities for me. It’s where I found the love of my life, my husband.

My husband and I met through a mutual queer friend (Hi Jon!) who would always hold house parties. When we first met, he was dating someone else so there wasn’t much to our interactions. A few years later, we were both single and got together for the first time at a house party that same friend was throwing. It was love ever since… well not really, but our love story is a lot longer and not one I have time to get into today (stay tuned to hear about that wild ride in the future).

Being in a same-sex relationship always felt kind of liberating to me. Sure, at times you need to be conservative regarding your P.D.A., but otherwise I kind of liked knowing that we were not the “norm”. When in a public same-sex relationship, your queer identity is constantly right there for all to see. I always found that in having that part of myself known to others, it bridges the gap in helping people know you more fully. When such a significant part of your identity is hidden, people cannot truly know you.

Now here we are 12+ years later, post-transition, and everything has changed. As a “passing” trans woman, to most people my husband and I come off as a heterosexual cis-gender couple. It has often resulted in us feeling as if we are outsiders within the queer community. When we attend queer events, people just assume we are the supportive straight allies. This is a consequence of transition I never considered, and one that is at times pretty difficult to deal with.

I am fully aware that being a “passing” trans woman in society comes with some very unique privileges, but there are still challenges as well. It almost feels like we are being forced to assimilate into the straight community, which is something we worked so hard to move away from in our earlier years. It’s a mixed bag of emotions, from feeling guilty to being able to pass in society as a heterosexual couple, not necessarily wanting to be visibly trans, to having an identity we do not associate with forced upon us, and then conflicted as to which community we are truly apart of. Personally, it’s almost like I am back in my high school days feeling as if I do not truly belong anywhere.

My husband and I talk about this quite a lot, and have even expressed feelings of guilt for not being visibly queer, because when you are not visibly queer you cannot as easily expose others to and raise awareness of the queer community and the issues we face. But then on the other hand, we are both sometimes so exhausted with having to explain ourselves to others. It’s not as easy as a gay man having a conversation and referring to their boyfriend or husband; this is often accepted at face value and does not prompt any follow-up questions. In our case, however, as soon as my husband or I disclose my trans identity or his queer identity, then we are constantly bombarded with questions. “What does queer mean?” … “So you got married when she was male?”… “How was that on your relationship? How did it change your relationship?” … “What was transition like on your body?”… “Have you have ‘the’ surgery?” … “So does that mean you are gay or straight now?”… We completely understand that this is due to basic human curiosity and an attempt to educate oneself, but it doesn’t change the fact that it makes us feel like a walking Google search engine. Sometimes we genuinely like having these conversations, but it needs to be in the right place at the right time, and for the right reasons. It can take an emotional toll otherwise.

I’m not sure that there is really an answer to any of this, but I wanted to provide this opportunity for others to gain some insight into queer issues not often discussed. For now, we are trying to put ourselves out there more – which mind you is quite difficult for a couple of homebodies – and engaging more with queer events and gatherings. We want to rediscover our queer identities, and recently more opportunities have actually come our way. We have been invited to partake in some social events with a lovely group of queer people local to our area, and have even met a nice same-sex couple at the church we’ve started attending. I guess it’s true that when you put it out there, the universe finds a way to answer. We will continue to do our best to engage in opportunities when they come our way and educate others when the timing is right, while being careful not to overburden ourselves to the point of burn out. We are no longer in our 20s, so we need to find what it means for us to be apart of the queer community at this current point in our lives.