dominicdemeyn

:Neutrois Niche:

Month: October, 2012

My name, my name, myself?!?.

I know it’s the same boring stuff: gender, names….

Recently I’ve had another little gender bender win, and I’d like to share it. I think it’s a win for all who hate to be put into oppressive roles by others, for all who are sensitive enough about their personal space (both the physical and the mental).

I’ve called myself Dominic for a while now and I’m STILL not deluded enough to think I have reached the stage of <Android> or that the name Dominic really represents me. I don’t think a name ever will.

But I’m using the name as a defence against being labelled without thought; I would like to create some form of juxtaposition, the female-ish body, the male-ish name, the changing personifcations that sometimes emerge within me, and the often stereotypical expressions or body language that is represented by my body (my limited expression-tool of self).

I think this idea might be catching on. I think many self-confessed men and women don’t even like being called casually ‘he’ or ‘she’, not because it’s SO WRONG, but because it does not take into account what else they are/can be apart from a ‘he/she’

At work (again), my supervisor is doing such a great job holding everything together and making sure we all function as a team. Recently, she has showed me the new work schedule and,voila, it had an invigorating energy to it, evethough nothing much but a few letters had changed. Mr and Miss (Frau/Herr) had been replaced by the first letter of our respective names, followed by our last names. It looked so much better than the restrictive rubbish that was there before, it looked so much better than normality. My name (my I.D. so to speak) has now been logged into the system, so everytime a new work schedule prints, it prints a part of myself that is very real and intense and alive. And I see myself projected in this writing, this whole document. It has no legal bearing, but fulfills me with a renewed sense of belonging, of not being fully alien.

We all have our uniqueness, we all have names. We are persons, not mere genders.

 

 

NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month

http://www.nanowrimo.org/en

 

Has anyone done this before? Only yesterday I told my Dad that I wanted to write, but didn’t know how to start and felt deprived of motivation and encouragement. So, without further talking about wanting to write, I will post this and see where I end up from there:

 

 

How alive are you?

You walk through the streets,

unperturbed by their width,

or the lengh of your stride.

 

Frequency

 

 

LINK: http://liberationcollective.wordpress.com/2012/06/08/a-feminist-critique-of-cisgender/

“Gender is not just a fun dress up game that individuals merely identify with in isolation from all contextual and historical meaning, but the most powerful tool of structural oppression ever created by humans”.

 

This article poses new questions on the use of terms like trans* and cis-gender. It looks critically at gender from a feminist perspective, questioning the usefulness of using these terms. As I understand it, the article points out that people don’t look at the power dynamics and complexities of gender enough, at its mutability and inherent ambiguity.

In relation to feminism:

Although at first glance a feminist stance towards topics such as gender, sexuality, politics and the like seems to some people to be overtly hostile and subjective, feminists have paved the way for us to even think in different ways and ‘on our own terms’. Without feminist ctitiques and observations, without feminists efforts to revolutionise inter-personal relationships and political structures, we as trans*-identified people would probably be at a loss for words and would probably receive all the contempt mainstream society has to offer.

A feminist perspective is vital in understanding where we as female-born individuals and also as male-born individuals originated from, which society we stem from and how it might have affected us in our further development. Even people who identify fully as male, whatever bodies they inhabit, may learn vital lessons from feminism.

I am pretty sure radical feminists hate me, if they even value me enough to send this strong emotion my way. I don’t present female, I’m not proud of having a female body, I don’t fight for explicitly female rights and I don’t encourage female love-making. I also consider myself rather trans*, eventhough that term is not able to quantify my complete human experience or all the dreams and desires that inhabit my soul. I have had many experiences that many females have, I have encountered oppression just as many females have, but alas, I am not part of the club, because I don’t identify as female.

Yet I admire many feminists and wish I was as brave as them in challenging hetero-normative views and the dynamics of oppression. Women’s liberation is of critical importance in human progress and the liberation of all opressed minorities. Feminism is about the right to be human, so it should affect us all, even those who don’t identify as females, or especially those people.

Haven’t found ‘the help’, yet.

So I’ve called yet another psycho(logist) to make an appointment for me and my various personality traits and feelings. Unfortuntely this was another miss, as he’s busy and doesn’t want to put me on a waiting list.

I wonder how long these feeings will follow me for. I feel like I have two heads and a tail with all this baggage I’m carrying. Why can’t I just drop it and leave it?

If life is imaginary, then why is it so difficult to re-imagine it?

 

Brother and sister playing with a toy plane in front of relatives

 

brother gets all the attention through dashing through the house, shouting and screaming indiscriminately at everything in his path and letting fly the aeroplane he has been given by his relative, a possessive aunt.

He gets encouraged and responded to with laughter and cute name-calling.

Sister decides she wants some positive attention, too, and thinks by doing the same thing…even better…she will garner more attention and be the one who everyone decides is cute and worthy of praise.

As soon as she starts being boisterous like that, she gets called names, too, but not cute ones. She gets put back in her place for being so loud and unruly and getting into her brother’s space and having th audacity to play with him, that she is sorrowfuly perplexed.

She sits back down to ponder her misery and think about what names she’d call her relatives.

Where are our allies?

I recently got transferred into the transit area where I meet many more people from diverse backgrounds and also met new staff members. They were all nice, of course, but nice is not quite enough when one barely exists and is rarely, if ever, seen as an equal.

I don’t mind being patronised when I’m new at work, because it’s true that I need to listen and learn a lot of new things, but stop patronising me because of or in spite of my gender (identity).

There are so many priviledged people and they don’t even know how priviledged they are. Only when this prviledge is taken away do they realise what life can actually be like.

They say they’re so accepting, but their reaction to what I tell them about me is mostly shock or disbelief or even amusement, and most often I have to listen to patronising comments afterward. They say it’s ok to be me and then get pronouns wrong. One woman asked me what my first name was after I had told her, thinking it can’t be true. I wonder why do people not just make up their own names for me like the character Dr. Cox from the TV Show Scrubs does to the character Dorian?!

They say they are accepting of all sorts of sexualities!! Do they consider accepting the fact that I don’t like fucking? No, they don’t understand how sexuality is repulsive to me, how I’d rather protect and nourish my body than use it for someone else’s gratification. How sickening is it that they think I follow the same low standards as them when it comes to what they call ‘love’ and ‘affection’.

These days I openly tell people I am Neutrois and I often add that I am female to eunuch. I want so badly to show them my scars, to tell them what it means for me to be like this, that it means a lot more than just sitting around saying fancy new words for other people’s enterainment.

I can’t believe that they don’t get it!!

One person said at least having no gender is no problem, it’s nothing to get worked up about, really. It’s true, it SHOULDN’T be a problem, but it is. First it’s sensational to be without gender, and after a while nobody cares. After having outed yourself to people and told them personal stuff they just ignore you and get on with their gendered lives and gendering you as if you had never spoken one word about this whole topic and how you are different and you are left to pick up the pieces and try to find some form of positivty elsewhere. And the struggle to exist with your ideals in a place that doesn’t recognise these and denies you ownership of yourself (to a certain extent) continues every single day. Even when I am alone in an empty room, in my apartment, I hear those voices denying me my self.

WHERE ARE OUR ALLIES?

 

 

 

 

No blog posts lately

Sorry for not blogging much lately.

Not much has changed, except my laptop is doing strange things again: When I type a sentence it jus leaves some letters and spaces out. I think it has finally had enough and needs to be replaced. Now that I have easier Internet access, it’s doing these things.

So, at work I am still trying to get people to adopt my name and accept my concept of non-gender. People in the higher echelons at work have certainly done their best to make me feel welcome, but for security reasons I still have to go by my legal name on legal documents. Now for finding out if a name change is possible and under what conditions.

I would like to take full ownership of my name; I have never owned my legal name. It feels like for years I never had a name at all, only now am I starting to exist like other people.

But I realize I am still attempting to sort of steal the identity of others. After my grandfather died and the house had to be emptied, I took so many old things. These things made me feel closer to family history/tradition and by extension to a stable existence with both meaning and continuity.