Wes and I don't really identify as anything. We don't do Pride and we don't do The Center and we don't do Groups or Joining or Representing. We did. We were extremely good little lesbians who went to parades and wrote articles and defied expectations of heterosexuality and deconstructed any concept we could get our hands on and all that. But, as I have related before, we pooped out on it. We got sick of being active and political lesbians long before we actually became a straight couple. Wes was a big-time lesbian weekly editor and we had to go to all the lesbian events in the city and eventually we were just DONE. If I never see another naked woman eat a rocky road sundae off another naked woman on top of a bar with a Swedish film crew filming... that's just fine with me.
One of the most common questions I get asked is some version of "What are you?" Am I a lesbian? Am I straight? Am I bi?
For fuck's sake, I have no idea. Why?
When I first came out about 14 years ago, I was SO into my lesbian label. It was like being wrapped in a protective layer of identity. But eventually it chafed.
What the hell difference does it make? Why does anyone need to know? What purpose will it serve?
Don't get me wrong. I believe in being out. I believe that there should never be shame in a family, in who I love or how we met or how our family came to be. It's just that my own, particular label is just not important. There isn't even an appropriate word for me. Call me what you will. The only thing that is 100% accurate is this: Bri loves Wes. Bri is a woman. Wes is a man. Oh, and he used to be a woman. See how it's a separate, less important sentence? Each of our gender identities is important to us NOW. Wes' identity is firmly in the NOW. If the other is mentioned, it is only to explain something like GMB or a detail of our early relationship or his childhood. Something like that. It is not a part of our daily thought processes.
If you must know (and oh, how it seems people MUST), if Wes and I were ever to split up (God for-freaking-bid), I would probably look to date another FTM. I would not rule out women or bio-men (doesn't that make them sound like robots? hee), but I have a vague feeling neither one would be a perfect fit. You can call me 'bi' but it's not quite right. 'Queer' is the closest I come to finding a word that fits. But I don't really need a word so that's really just to make other people happy. There you go.
So why am I even writing this post? I may not care much about my day-to-day sexual orientation. I may not tell 95% of the future mommy or daddy friends I meet in the park about how our family came to be and the queer world may consider that scandalous and awful - bad enough that I "crossed over" to the other side, right? But I do care about there being some degree of visibility out there for others who may be struggling, either with their own gender identity and family issues or just from ignorance. I don't feel the need to educate anyone, but I don't mind sharing my story and letting you learn from it (to that end, all comments that are not respectful and kind and preferably not idiotic, particularly when it comes to consideration of Wes' feelings, will be rapidly deleted and their authors publicly lambasted and picked upon by me - don't mess with my Wes).
I know we are incredibly lucky. We have never faced any major obstacles from family or society because of who we are or who we love - never did as lesbians and don't now. Hell, Wes' work threw him a "Transformation Party" when he transitioned and invited me and gave speeches about him. But what makes his work really, really good is that they don't care. What makes it really good is that now, 6 years after the fact and with considerable turnover at his job, we don't know who knows about the transition and who doesn't. It isn't a factor in how he is treated or how our marriage is viewed or in how congratulatory his co-workers are about his future baby. It was celebrated beautifully and then it was just accepted and allowed to fade in importance. Perfect.
(As a fascinating sidenote, we find that many of the people who DO know about Wes' transition still assume that the baby was created in the traditional way. I am always amazed by this, but have to constantly realize that the world doesn't actually think that much about the logistics or biology of a transition - it speaks to how much of a non-issue it truly is around here that people just accept that Wes used to be female and that they also accept that he is now firmly and totally male.)
To be honest, though, we very purposefully chose this environment. We would never live anywhere other than NYC (or a small handful of other major world cities). We would never willingly subject ourselves to scrutiny or day-to-day difficulty or any sort of question about whether our relationship or family is valid - (these things can still happen in our situation even if they are less likely - I would share some of the odd feelings I have about our situation, but I have been advised by my not-lawyer Z that I should really not comment too much about that stuff here, so I don't). There is luck in that - we have good jobs, family support if we get desperate, and enough money to get by here - but in some ways we have made that luck. We have worked to make a life here where we are pretty much safe.
I am writing today mostly, though, because I wanted to say this: I am so, so proud of Wes. I am proud of him every single day. I believe becoming who you really are is the bravest possible act. I just wanted to use today to give him that credit. And to be grateful for where he is, where we are, now.
That pride is a glorious, glowing thing that fills me with a truly wonderful and hopeful feeling. I am blogging because I think everyone should have that much pride in themselves and in their partners and in their families. It IS a brave thing to create a family that is not the "norm." I am proud to be part of a community of people displaying such bravery.
