What’s in a name/The Masquerade of acceptance

A woman sits minding their own business, well just going about their business. Just doing what they do. One word suddenly brings everything undone. Takes a day that looks bright and full of possibility into a steaming pile of pointlessness.

That woman, a transwoman, in the midst of transition. That word, well that word was their deadname. For the uninitiated the deadname is the name a person used to go by before they transitioned to their real gender. For this woman a name they always heard with disgust and pain as it was. No matter who actually spoke that word.

But yes that one word has brought this woman undone today. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is that way. It is the reality of what it is like to live as a transgender person on a day to day basis.

I think the deadnaming thing, along with deliberate misgendering, ties into a range of fears and issues of self-confidence and resilience. Most potently it ties into fear, a fear of being safe, a fear of being able to walk down the street in safety, a fear of attending your local cafe in safety. A very real and present fear that every single time you go out you do in fact lay it on the line.

So obviously that trans woman is me. And this situation just happened and it instantly reduced me to a state of blubberring mess. It’s about an hour later and I have managed to pull myself back to some level of reasonable functioning. In that process I found that I was bombarded by the time my ex-father-in-law deadnamed me with such ferocity that I ended up unable to move from my chair and unable to speak. Even though this man was an 80 year old man I was reduced to effectively existing in that moment in time as full grown adult tucked into the fetal position.

One thing in that situation that was particularly pertinent was how much over the years the family have educated this man about autism and especially the issues of speach and communication. And yet he stood their yelling my deadname and demanding I answer him.

It was a somewhat traumatic experience. As I write that line I wonder if there is something of a bit of melodrama in it. Possibly, but that’s how it felt, that’s how it was experienced for me.

In the aftermarthof today I think of acceptance, and tolerance and so forth. I don’t imagine I am alone in wanting real acceptance. Real acceptance would have stepped in on my behalf and advocated.

But largely it seems to me is what we have is a base level tolerance that likes to masquerade as actual acceptance. When asked those in the masquerade will dutifully declare gender, sexuality etc or of no importance and that they just accept everyone, or a more benign, well whatever makes them happy.

But this, masquerade, it doesn’t mitigate the risk, the danger, the actual murders, the anti-LGBTIQ+ legislation enacted. It is as though it almost perpetuates it, it certainly seems to give it permission.

I think this because if there really was the wide spread acceptance we keep hearing about, if there really was there, it would be more than a tick in the box on a survey or opinion poll.

I think if it was really there the innoccent bystander situation would be broken away in these situations.

No longer would a transperson be openly mocked, humiliated, verbally abused and even physically abused because the response of real acceptance, that response would jump in and put a stop to it. It would stop those bigots in their tracks and honour the person being victimised.

The person being victimised would be so honoured and so protected that they wouldn’t be giving in to fear yet again, they wouldn’t be scared to go down the street to the shop, or even answer their phone.

What they would be is empowered, strengthened and raised up to be exactly who they are, to stand tall in the freedom they have fought so hard for and finally found.

Fake allies, fake acceptance, psuedo tolerance that is masquerading as acceptance is never going to cut it. We need real acceptance, real acceptance of allowing every human person to live their true self.