Gaslit, Transitioning and a Girl's Loss: The Surprising Gender Euphoria of Misogyny

What is a woman? If it were up to me, society would spend less time trying to answer that question. But conservative pundits have recently turned the phrase into an inside joke on liberalism’s oversensitivity and radicalization. And although I am a woman first and foremost, I am also one who happens to be trans, so it’s my womanhood, in particular, that’s being called into question in public forums and private spaces when some troll smirkingly poses this question. Thankfully, other writers have already eloquently dismantled the transphobic arguments behind this trend, identifying why these pundits' simplistic answer to that question—“an adult female”—is not quite the common sense checkmate that they think it is. (TL;DR: Our knowledge of gender and language continues to evolve, and things are allowed to be complicated.) Therefore, I won’t take the time to dismantle what’s already a heap of junk. I’m here to argue that if we must spend time defining womanhood (so we can more effectively gatekeep it or whatever), then we should move away from the notion that such a construct is tied to physical or personal qualities. Because I’ve met dominant women and nurturing men—gals with shaved heads and raging libidos, and passive fellas with hair down to their calves. There are exceptions to all gendered qualities. But the only thing that every woman I know—trans and cis alike—has in common is being on the receiving end of misogyny.

When a stranger on the street wolf whistles at me, I can’t decide between flipping him the bird or flirtatiously winking back.

As a Trans Woman, Objectification and Sexualization Validates Me

An episode from season two of Netflix’s Sex Education poignantly illustrates this idea by throwing a gaggle of schoolgirls into detention and asking them to determine what binds them together as women. They bond over memories of sexual harassment and ultimately, soberingly, conclude that experiencing “nonconsensual penises” is the one thing they all have in common. As a trans woman who mostly passes, I understand this. I retain a certain privilege, in that I encounter less explicit transphobia from strangers in public, yet I simultaneously experience more of that specific flavor of misogyny that’s typically reserved for cis women. First comes objectification and sexualization. And then, when you fail to perform to their sexpectations, comes vitriol. But here’s where it gets confusing for me and other trans people. Because I (mostly) like being objectified and sexualized. Maybe it’s because Hollywood has only very recently begun to portray trans women as anything other than two-dimensional sex workers or the butt of jokes. Maybe it’s because I never thought of trans women as people who could be admired, romanced or lusted after. In fact, when I came out to one family member, she expressed worry that I may never find a husband. “I just don’t know any guys who would date a woman who…you know.” Yes, I did know. This was one of the many anxieties that I’d had to negotiate before deciding to transition. (Side note: Lots of guys date trans women—and even more fuck us.) So when a stranger on the street wolf whistles at me, I can’t decide between flipping him the bird or flirtatiously winking back. In a world that still devalues us, the fact is that trans women like me actually consider responding kindly to such dehumanizing objectification, because who else will ever want us? Most women will tell you that the safest thing to do is simply look down and walk fast, and so that’s what I’ve learned to do. It’s not the sexualization that vexes me—it’s the power dynamic, the “I can do anything I want to you because I’m a man and you’re a woman”-ness of the whole situation. Part of me celebrates when I’m treated like any other woman while another part bemoans the normalcy of such misogyny (*cough* society is a patriarchy *cough cough*).

Being Labeled as Emotional Seems to Be a Constant for Most Women, Trans or Not

Some trans people in online spaces have meme-ified this experience—“confusing euphoria,” they call it. It’s the same sensation that overwhelmed me last week when a stranger catcalled me. It’s the feeling that hits me nearly daily when a dude interrupts me to mansplain. And it’s that emotional cocktail that got my goat after a recent “Tinderaction.”I was texting with a Tinder Guy whom I hadn’t yet met. Big smile, big arms and big sarcasm to boot. Color me beguiled. Then, he asked if I was smooth. I furrowed my brow and typed, “Like my body? Yeah, I shave if that’s what you mean.” “Good,” he replied. “Cuz I’m only into women.” I restrained my anger and calmly informed him that many of my girlfriends had ditched their razors years ago, yet they remained (to my knowledge) women.He sent a vomiting emoji. I canceled our plans. In the misogynistic tirade that followed, he employed such classics as, “That’s childish,” “You’re so emotional,” and—my favorite—“I guess I know more than you.” (Don’t kids just say the darndest things?)I knew not to take any of these things to heart, yet two full days passed before my ire finally dissipated. This incident reminded me of fighting with my big brothers as a kid, and the way that any time my face betrayed emotion, my argument seemingly lost validity in their eyes. If I teared up or raised my voice, they discounted my words with stony expressions. To show emotion was to forfeit, and they had won. Every woman I know has dealt with this—a fact that complicated my frustration in the two days that followed, muddling it with discomfiting nuance. A man calling me hysterical was…kinda validating.

I’m exhausted from hiding the more unseemly phenomena of trans womanhood and now believe that remaining silent only enables patriarchy.

Trans Women Are Not Excluded From Misogyny

The fact that my big brothers and other men have played out this age-old dynamic with me since before I even came out as trans is particularly telling. The patriarchy tries to undermine women before they can come into their own. But I hesitated to even write about this. I believe the reason it’s not discussed more openly is that we trans women fear that some men will interpret this experience as added impetus to perpetuate misogynistic behavior. That’s really why I restrain myself from returning a catcall with a flirtatious wink: to protect my cis-ters.Hence the “confusing” in confusing euphoria. But I’m exhausted from hiding the more unseemly phenomena of trans womanhood and now believe that remaining silent only enables patriarchy. I should be able to say nuanced things without them being misinterpreted. As I said, things are allowed to be complicated.So when pundits point out my personal qualities as disqualifying me as a woman, I’ll simply shake my head and know that if anything makes someone a woman, it’s having to deal with this shit their whole life.