Sunday October 4, 2009
Talking straight
By NADIA
Female to male transsexuality – a straight woman’s experience.
I HAVE always liked boys, from as early as age six. Then there were four years of “drought”, until I met James.
My earliest exposure to the word “lesbian” was in an all girls’ secondary convent school. A few of my classmates were rather boyish and had crushes on schoolmates a year our senior. They would ask for photos of the more popular or prettier seniors.
I was rather ignorant about gays and lesbians and admit I was not interested to know about them. I only started to read some books and articles about them after dating my current partner, a transgender man.
A couple walks hand in hand during a Gay Pride Parade in Mexico City in 2007. About 20,000 people attended the event. – AFP file photo We met during a fitness retreat. If you didn’t scrutinise him then, you would have mistaken him for a chesty man. That was my first impression. It’s his gait. He carries himself like a man. He walks like a thug, legs wide apart, arms open, quite intimidating. I was rather worried about having him as a roommate.
After the retreat we would meet after our fitness classes for supper. One night, James revealed he was a lesbian. He asked if I had ever dated a lesbian, and if I would like to go out with him. We both sensed there had been some chemistry during the retreat itself. So, we started dating.
James has a library filled with books about gay women – theory, poetry, teen accounts – and gave me some books to read. He educated me on the various definitions for gay women: lesbian, androgynous, dyke, butch. I still mix them up.
I have never been intimate with a woman and had to read up on how to do it (hallelujah for the Internet)! We were both insecure about satisfying each other initially. Yet, you know what, this has been some of the better lovemaking I’ve experienced.
Most of James’s close friends are women. He talks very openly with them and is physically affectionate with them. In the straight world, most men are more restrained in their language and physical closeness. We are conscious of keeping that “polite” distance.
Sometimes, I don’t know when he is being friendly and when he is flirting with an attractive woman. Physically and socially he is a woman, but I still regard and see him as my male partner. Therefore, I am not accustomed to his casualness and closeness with women. But it’s a fact I have to accept – that his best friends will be women and he will have closer bonds and relationships with women because of his past.
Support from family
My family is a blessing. When James and I started dating, I told my sister first that I was seeing a woman. She has always been very open, so she said that was great! My younger brother had a family meeting (without me) over my latest lover and asked everyone during dinner, “Did you know Nadia is dating a woman?”
My dad took me by surprise. He is 75 and the coolest dad ever! He stilled all doubt/protests with his reply, “As far as I’m concerned, Nadia, at her age, does not need my approval on who she is dating as long as this person makes her happy.” Since then, my Pa has treated James like one of his buddies, even offering him a cigar after dinner (unfortunately one of dad’s vices)!
Ma has always been the cheerleader of the family and a source of support. She is worried, but most of all, confused and very curious. She asks questions about our intimacy like a curious child and it’s funny. I answer in a matter-of-fact manner.
After James’s chest operation, my brother asked how he should refer to James, by his male or female name? My young nephew and niece think he is a man.
James’s nieces are both six and going through a stage where they are gender-conscious. They asked him, “Are you a girl or a boy?” When he said he was a boy, they went and asked their maid, who said James was a girl. They returned to him with mischievous giggles.
Prior to our meeting, James had decided to proceed with a chest operation – a mastectomy, or removal of breast tissue. I happened to come along at that time and took care of him after the operation last year.
He did his own research on hospitals and doctors. I was very worried and did my own research too. I came across a site for female-to-male (FTM) transgendered persons hosted by an American (michael7668.tripod.com/mikestransgenderedplanet).
I wrote in to one of the forums hosted by the site and received a personal reply from the founder.
He was very kind and gave us practical tips and a checklist of things to do before the operation, like rearranging things in the house to be within reach, and to bring along items like a flexible straw (so you don’t have to bend over to drink); a button front shirt (so you don’t have to stretch to put it on); and large safety pins (to secure post-surgical drainage bags so they don’t dangle loose).
I arrived in Bangkok on the third day after James’s operation and went straight to the hospital to collect him. When I first saw him, he was wearing a tight elastic binder around his chest with a thick layer of cotton beneath. I pictured large cuts and stitching all over his chest and gave in to my weeks of anxiety, and cried.
But when the nurse removed the binder and cotton, I was relieved to see only neat stitches around his areolea. The surgeon was rather curt when explaining about post-operation care. James had to return three days later for another check-up. We rented a hotel within walking distance from the hospital.
After the surgery
The hospital was an experience by itself. It was like visiting Fantasy Island (the sitcom of the late 1970s). The rooms are comfortable, like a four-star hotel’s. There is a bevy of beautiful young women clad in baby blue, short skirt uniforms at the reception. There is an international language counter where the staff on duty speak Spanish, French, Japanese, Arabic, Hindi, and Malay. There are girl couriers on roller blades, clad in tennis skirts.
The nurses are all pretty and have flawless skin. They are also dressed in baby blue uniforms, but each with a different design.
It was like a beauty pageant, where the staff are mannequins advertising the hospital’s services – nipping and tucking – to create plastic people. I collected pamphlets of all the services offered, some were as exotic as changing a male voice to a female voice.
James went back to work a week after returning from surgery. In retrospect, I realise how careless we were and I feel guilty for having allowed him to go back to work instead of insisting that he extend his sick leave.
I was naïve for not realising how drastic the operation was because, on the outside, the doctor had done such a good job. We could not see all the cutting and removal of tissue under his skin and how vulnerable he still was. Imagine what it was like taking the LRT every day after that.
The chest binder James had to wear to help his chest retain its shape was a physical torture. It was like a corset with rows of hooks. He had to hold in his breath each time I tugged and pulled to attach the 20 tiny little hooks. It was a battle of might – mine against the elastic and my partner’s baby fat!
James eventually found a shop in Ampang (KL) that sells vests for those who have gone through mastectomies and bought one. That vest was a luxury, compared to the binder.
Other than reading about lesbianism, I have not experienced it. James and I are like any other straight couple. Occasionally, the female side of him emerges in tender moments. At other times I find him more masculine than most men.
He is so courageous, and strong, physically and emotionally. Lately, I don’t think about and am no longer conscious of gender issues. I accept and love him as he is. I am ready to walk beside him as far as he allows me to go on his journey.
Because this country doesn’t recognise gay rights, I have so much fear for him; I fear our society will hurt him. James has considered living abroad, in a country where gay and transgender rights are recognised and protected.
But, after the Opposition won in several states in Malaysia last year, we find there may still be some hope here.
Related Stories:
A question of sex
‘Sick’ definition
Trans-terminology
My journey
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