I knew I'd need to talk about this book again, especially after going to book club and talking about fascinating things. So... bear with me. I promise this will be the last post solely on this book.
One of the things that was brought up in our discussion was rape, since it played such a huge role in Jess's early life and because so many women have had that experience. It's horrible, but I think the statistic is something like 2 in 3 women will be raped in their four years of college or something like that. It's sickening. It's also almost always someone you know. Anyway, we were talking about the shame associated with rape and the fact that some people on one of our members' college campuses think it's no big deal because it happens all the time. The reason I bring this all up is because I saw this reflected in Stone Butch Blues. The butches basically resigned themselves to the fact that it was going to happen to them, whether they fought back or not. They didn't have anyone to confide in and no one to protect them, since it was those we trust most for protection that were the perpetrators. I can't for one minute blame her for being paranoid all the time about the police and the health care practitioners. These are the people that most citizens trust unflinchingly. But for Jess, they are the main cause for her fears. Granted, I was quite heartened to see that post-Stonewall police were better. Not all, and maybe not even a majority, but it definitely was change.
This is all because Jess is different, too. I feel her - I too feel "stuck" between genders at times. I mean, I have good days and bad days, much like I think she probably did. Honestly, though, it just drains you. I don't think I'd make it without my support system. Yes, Jess is a fictional character (which I have to remind myself a lot because she feels so real to me), but the fact that society rejects difference resonates so clearly with me. You must be one or the other. There is no "between" in gender. This is also reflected in the DSM-IV (the current diagnostic manual for psychiatry/psychology) where there is a list of behaviors that must be present in order to be diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder and you must have the need to be the opposite gender. So people like me, who are both, or just slightly lean either way on the spectrum... well I guess we're just screwed. The DSM likes putting people into boxes, and it seems that while some people fit quite neatly, others of us don't. I'm a little nervous as to what's going to change in the next edition coming out - the DSM 5. Will they get rid of GID completely? Will they just change the definition of what exactly having this "disorder" entails? I think the latter has a far better chance of both being effective and actually helping real people instead of taking case studies or hypothetical people and forming a definition around them.
This is the thing about the trans identity. It's different for everyone. Some people simply want to cross dress every once in a while. Some people want to live full time as the opposite gender. Both of those things are great if that's what you need to get rid of the distress that's probably ruining your life (as required for diagnosis in the current DSM). So, I guess you're wondering what makes me and Jess any different from the other butch lesbians in the book. They all cross dress pretty much 24/7, do the work of men, act like men, etc. So what makes me different? Personally, I think it's all in how you feel inside your body and how society influences that. Gender is already a social construct, so there's no way one can completely ignore its influence. I, for instance, hate being called "ma'am" or "miss" or any of those titles. It's not exactly as though I'm in the wrong body, per se, though I've heard many people describe transgender identity that way. It's best explained in the words of one of the book club members. The way Jess feels "defies words." No one can fully explain to anyone how it feels, I don't think. Although, Edwin's W.E.B. DuBois quote does a pretty good job of describing it and I latched onto the quote when we read The Souls of Black Folk in class a couple years back:
"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness,--an American, a Negro; two warring souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder."
That's the beauty of the very last scene in the book. The people in her dream don't ask for an explanation, nor is one given. They simply accept her into their community of similar souls, no questions asked. I like to think the point Feinberg was trying to make is that if you're like Jess, no matter what you may be feeling right now, is that you're not alone. There are more of us out there. We're just harder to find. But we will accept you and celebrate who you are, no questions asked, because we know what it's like. With words or without.
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