New York
Association for Gender Rights Advocacy
24 W. 25th St.,
9th floor New York, NY 10010 Tel: 212-675-3288,
x266 Fax: 212-675-3466
Transgender - A walk
of life
AsianWeek, March 23-29, 2001
By Joyce Nishioka
At one of San Francisco’s most
exclusive restaurants, *Natasha greets customers clad in one of her own
designs. The fitted, spaghetti-strapped dress shows off Natasha’s
ample breasts and svelte legs. The color, brown with a gold accent,
matches her long, thick hair, highlighted and curled to perfection, and
her dark eyes, which seem to draw patrons in. Her manners — and looks
— make her one of the most popular waitresses at the night spot,
earning on average $200 per shift.
Thanks to the job, Natasha has been
able to pay for school. She graduated from college last year and has her
sights set on the high fashion world. Eventually, she would like to
start her own business. She is young, beautiful and talented.
Nevertheless, at times even she battles episodes of depression,
questioning herself and wondering if she made the right decision.
Natasha was born male.
Though internally she’s at peace,
externally Natasha deals with discrimination, both overt and covert, as
well as the constant and nagging stress that she will be “clocked,”
or found out.
Though the media often plays up the
glittery drag queen image, most transgender women dress up to avoid
attention. When Natasha goes out without make-up on, in jeans and a
T-shirt, people do stare, she says. Most of the time, however, she
spends more time in making herself “look better,” by putting on
eye-shadow and lipstick and styling her hair, so she can pass. Fearing
her alto voice will give her away, she also avoids talking in public.
“It’s very seldom that I get
clocked,” Natasha says. “When it does happen, I get paranoid about
it. I just want to get out of there. I feel really ugly, like
everyone’s looking at me … You go through that every day. People
just feel they need to show you that they know. There is definitely a
lot of anxiety about getting attention.”
Hard Realities
The media has glorified
male-to-female transgenders in recent years with critically acclaimed
films such as The Crying Game, Ma Vie En Rose, and more recently, The
Iron Ladies, and with the larger-than-life personalities of Dame Edna
Edwards and Ru Paul — but those images mask the ugly truths of “transgenderphobia.”
For Natasha and others in the
transgender community, the statistics are a glaring reminder of all the
problems, inextricably intertwined. In 1996, the San Francisco
Department of Public Health conducted a study that included 397
male-to-female transgender individuals in San Francisco.
The results were alarming: 80 percent
had at one time or another been involved in sex work; 34 percent had
reported injection drug use; 65 percent reported a history of
incarceration; 52 percent had no health insurance; 13 percent were
homeless; 32 percent attempted suicide.
Advocates say that for the
transgender community, life is a catch-22. Many report losing their jobs
when they “transition” from male to female. Others say
discrimination is so rampant it’s nearly impossible to land a job in
the first place. Some turn to sex work for survival and as a means to
boost their self-esteem. Drugs help them escape, but if they become
hooked, they have to continue to sell their bodies to support their
habits.
“It is really looked at as a
ridiculed community,” Nikki Calma, community events specialist for San
Francisco-based Asian & Pacific Islander (A&PI) Wellness Center,
said. “It’s an oppressed community. Validation is hard to get from
family, friends and society. People are seeking any validation they can
get. In sex work, you’re considered as a novelty. You’re being paid
for sexual favors, aside from getting money. They are validating what
you have. Someone wants you.”
Arguably, their problems cut deeper
than wounds suffered by any other community. Consider this: 83 percent
have suffered verbal abuse; 46 percent faced unemployment
discrimination; 37 percent had suffered abuse within the last 12 months,
and of those, 44 percent reported it was by a partner; 59 percent
reported a history of rape.
National statistics are just as
sobering. It’s estimated that transgender men and women are 16 times
more likely to be murdered than the average person in the United States,
and they face a 70 percent unemployment rate, compared with 4 percent in
the general population, according to Marcus Arana, a discrimination
investigator with the San Francisco Human Rights Commission.
“Problems are real; they are not
inflated,” Arana says. “We see them in the streets. The realities
are that when one transitions, they lose their jobs, they lose their job
histories. They have no place to go.”
Their plight has gotten so little
attention that A&PI Wellness Center, which provides HIV/AIDS
services, calls them “among the most invisible and marginalized” API
groups.
Defining an Identity
The term “transgender” describes
both male and female cross-dressers, transvestites, pre-operative and
post-operative transsexuals, as well as masculine-appearing women and
feminine-appearing men. Even those who feel they are the opposite sex,
but don’t express it outwardly, are considered transgender.
“It’s about statement, more how
you feel inside,” Calma says. “It’s not about physical appearance,
but how you want to identify yourself to other people.”
Because the term transgender
encompasses many diverse groups, it’s difficult to estimate just how
many transgender people there are. No comprehensive study has been
conducted to determine the population in the United States, but the San
Francisco Department of Public Health estimates that 1 percent of the
city’s residents — 15,000-18,000 people — are transgender.
Statistics haven’t been broken down to ascertain the number of Asian
Americans, but Arana says, “it’s high from our experience, in
proportion with San Francisco’s API population.” Considering an
estimated one-third of San Franciscans are of Asian descent, the API
transgender population may be as high as 6,000.
Says Calma: “There is a sudden
emergence of the transgender community in San Francisco. Suddenly, the
issues are coming out. The number is there. You can feel it.”
Like many in the Bay Area API
transgender community, Natasha is an immigrant. However, she’s managed
to avoid the pitfalls that trap so many women.
Natasha, 24, immigrated from Manila,
the Philippines, eight years ago. She “transitioned” from male to
female two years ago, but her identity crisis began much earlier. A
“daddy’s girl” and the baby in the family, Natasha remembers when
she was five or six years old, she would powder her face like she had
seen her mom do, and climb into her father’s lap when his friends
visited.
“I would feel pretty and then I
would go mingle,” she says. “It didn’t bother my family because I
was young and spoiled. The whole time, they thought it was a phase.”
Natasha recalls dressing up in
women’s clothing as a child. Her mother, who worked as a seamstress,
would line the walls of their house with her creations. When she left
the house to run an errand, Natasha would pick one out and try it on.
She would dance and twirl, she recalls.
“I guess I was just feeling like a
princess because the dresses were always too big for me and it felt like
an evening gown,” Natasha says laughing. “Back then, it felt so
nice. I just wanted to be like a girl I saw on TV or a girl in general,
being pretty in dress.”
But kids can be cruel. Natasha would
routinely come home from school crying. Other children would tease her
because she was feminine and all her friends were girls. “My parents
were getting mad at me,” Natasha says. “They were afraid of me being
hurt and told me, ‘If you are going to come home crying everyday and
are always getting in fights, you should stay home.’”
As a teenager, when Natasha attended
Catholic boys’ school with her brother, she began to feel she should
“hide” her femininity and “act as a guy.”
It was “non-stop trying to please
everyone else,” Natasha says. At every moment, she was conscious about
the way she spoke and moved, continually questioning herself, “Is this
the male way of doing it?” During her first year of high school, she
didn’t ha6e any friends and dared not approach the gay clique.
In the end, she couldn’t change.
“For me, it’s impossible,”
Natasha says. “It’s something in me and it’s what I am. I can’t
click it on and off.”
When Natasha was 17, she immigrated
to the United States and lived with her parents. She worked in retail
and attended a community college. Realizing she could support herself,
she decided “it was time to move on.” Four years later, she moved to
the Bay Area with her brother. A year later, he married and she moved to
her own place. At that point, she began her transition.
“When I was living as a guy, I
never felt comfortable living in my skin,” Natasha says. “As a guy,
I was very feminine so I was very androgynous. People didn’t know how
to address me and look at me. I would be in the grocery store wearing a
sweatshirt and baseball cap and they would say, ‘She’s next.’ They
would think I’m a girl. In a way, I just never felt attractive.”
Before transitioning, Natasha sought
advice from other transsexuals. She educated herself on what to expect,
physically and emotionally. One thing others suggested is that she find
a boyfriend “who’s going to accept you no matter what.” Natasha
found someone and for a time, she says, “it was perfect.”
“We would go out, with me as a
girl, and he would say, ‘Oh, you’re so beautiful,’” Natasha
explains. “But he would see me in the house as a guy and he would say,
‘It’s still OK, you’re still beautiful. You’re not ugly. It’s
OK if you don’t wear make-up all the time.’”
Natasha also felt support from her
family. She’s especially close to her mother and brother. Her father,
she describes, “is civil about it.”
“My mom told me he’s always
talking about that, saying he was really worried about me and worried
about what I’m doing,” Natasha says. “It’s as hard for him as it
is for me.”
She adds: “His main concern is for
me to be OK because for parents, all in all, that’s what their concern
is. They don’t want their children to be unjustly treated. Their main
concern is that nothing bad happens to me. And since I live this life,
I’m more prone to things like that — people are going to be mean to
me.”
A Cycle of Risk
Most transgender people will tell you
discrimination occurs on a daily basis. The persistent fear of violence,
for no other reason than people don’t like the way you look, nags at
the soul. “It’s like you’re bait when you’re going out,”
explains Chi Chi La Woo of A&PI Wellness Center. “You have to
watch yourself. You have to constantly present yourself. You have to
watch what you do, how you carry yourself. If you’re going to get
clocked, people are going to make fun of you or worse, they could hurt
you, mentally or verbally.”
In 1996, the San Francisco Department
of Public Health’s Transgender Community Health Project assessed HIV
risk among male-to-female (MTF) and female-to-male (FTM) transgender
individuals. The study, which included ten focus groups, found that
unprotected sex, commercial sex work and injection drug use were common.
According to the report, participants described sex work as “survival
sex.” For many, it was the only option because of the severe job,
housing and education discrimination, the study said. Participants also
explained that society’s view of the transgender community takes an
enormous toll on their self-esteem, and can contribute to
self-destructive behavior.
Faced with numerous and daunting
obstacles, the transgender community also exhibits high risk for HIV
infection.Of the API participants, 27 percent were HIV positive. The
rates for other minorities were equally disturbing: 29 percent for
Latinos; 63 percent for African Americans. Twenty-two percent of white
participants also tested positive.
“A lot of people don’t realize
they can do better, because the community is infested with drugs,
too,” Calma said. “Unfortunately, to make people feel good about
themselves, they often turn to alcohol and other substance abuse.”
For APIs, barriers to programs and
interventions include linguistic and cultural barriers, according to a
report for the President’s Commission on Asian Americans and Pacific
Islanders authored by Pauline Park and John Manzon-Santos.
A&PI Wellness Center is a beacon
for providing support. One of the only organizations to provide API
culturally specific programs, the center provides a bimonthly social and
educational forum called Club Euphoria. Topics covered include legal and
immigration concerns, domestic violence, harassment and employment
opportunities.
New Organizing
Community organizations are also
leading the way for increased public awareness, and the movement is
gaining momentum. Many groups are building coalitions and joining with
gay/lesbian/bisexual organizations.
Transgender activist Pauline Park
helped found the New York Association for Gender Rights Advocacy (NYAGRA)
in 1998. At the time, there was neither a citywide nor statewide
advocacy group working in the legislative arena for transgender civil
rights. With discrimination and violence against transgender people all
too common in the state, Park’s organization is committed to
advocating at state and local levels for self-determination in gender
statement and identity.
Currently, NYAGRA is heading a
campaign to amend New York City’s human rights ordinance to protect
transgender people from discrimination in employment, housing and public
accommodations. The city transgender civil rights bill, Park explains,
would broaden freedom of gender identity and statement for all. For
example, under current law, a lawyer could not be fired because he is
gay. However, theoretically, his superior could terminate him if he felt
he was too feminine to meet with clients. The NYAGRA-backed legislation
would automatically criminalize such actions.
“This legislation embraces
transsexuals and lesbian/gay/bisexual people,” Park explains. “It
benefits society by allowing everyone to be expressive of their own
gender.”
She added: “This is part of a
larger effort to empower the transgender community by [encouraging them]
to further educate themselves, and to actively seek legal redress and a
larger social change. In the process of moving forward the legislation,
we have helped to educate policy makers and the public.”
Already, 33 jurisdictions have
adopted non-discrimination laws that explicitly include transgender
people. Minneapolis was the first to add such language to their human
rights laws in 1975. Most of the change, however, came in the 1990s,
when jurisdictions such as Cambridge, Mass., Toledo, Ohio, Louisville,
Ky., and DeKalb, Ill. passed similar laws.
In many ways, San Francisco is
heading the transgender movement. Since 1994, those with diverse gender
identities have been protected in the city’s human rights law. Theresa
Sparks is San Francisco’s first transgender appointee to the Human
Rights Commission. Not only is the commission in charge of investigating
and mediating discrimination complaints, but it has also worked to
inform the public about transgender issues through training and forums.
According to investigator Arana, one of the commission’s next projects
is to provide sensitivity training for the police department.
“Locally and nationally, half of
violent crimes committed against transgender people are committed by
enforcement officials,” Arana said. “It’s a very military setting.
It’s a manly kind of world. People perceive a transgender person as a
man in a dress.”
San Francisco is also poised to
become the first city to provide medical benefits for city employees
seeking to change their gender. The health care plan, under which
transgender benefits is one component, is expected to be approved by
Mayor Willie Brown and the city’s Board of Supervisors.
Supervisor Mark Leno has spearheaded
the effort to pass the legislation. Leno emphasizes that the health plan
does not include elective surgery, such as facial reconstruction or
breast augmentation, one of the biggest misconceptions of the proposal.
“The benefits we are moving forward
will come as a result of a medical diagnosis of a condition known as
gender identity disorder,” Leno says. “There are prescribed, known
effective treatments for this disorder, which include psychological
counseling, hormonal treatment, and sometimes surgery … The theme here
is equal benefits for equal work. All city employees should be
considered equally. That’s what this is going to do.
“The more people know, the more
they understand, the less they fear. That will be a side benefit of our
moving forward. It will immediately affect only 14 self-identified
transgender employees, but it raises consciousness locally and has even
initiated debate on the subject across the country. So, that is a very
positive aspect of this process.”
A&PI Wellness Center also has
been at the forefront of the San Francisco transgender activity.
Executive Director Manzon-Santos says his organization is a
“stakeholder in how the city enacts legislation to make sure Asian and
Pacific Islanders are at the table.” Because of systemic
discrimination, he says, it has been difficult to find funding for the
center’s transgender programs. Political advocacy is therefore
imperative. “You can’t do one without the other.” To that end, the
center hopes to educate the public by increasing the community’s
visibility. And this summer, it will sponsor and host the first national
meeting for the API transgender community.
API transgender persons often face
unique problems, Manzon-Santos says. For example, many are rejected by
their parents.
“It is very difficult to watch
families that are locked into traditional gender stereotyping, or are
concerned of fitting in and being part of a U.S. dream,” he says.
Ironically, Asian societies, at
different points in history, revered various transgender communities. In
Chinese Taoist mythology, for example, the male deity Kuan-yin
transforms into the goddess of mercy, who is still esteemed today. Korea
also has a long history of transgender culture. In the 7th-century Silla
Dynasty, the Hwarang warriors included the Flower Boys, who dressed as
women and wore make-up, while training for battle. More recently, the
paksu mudang shamans of Northern Korea dressed as women to perform
sacred rituals. With the advent of communism, however, the culture was
eliminated.
In India, Hijra male priestesses and
the goddess of Bahuchara Mata were highly regarded, as were the
transgender priests and priestesses of the Babain culture in the
Philippines. But Hijras lost social prestige under British occupation
and in the 1800s, Catholic missionaries destroyed Filipino Babain
culture.
“With the rich history of
multi-gender people in Asia,” Manzon-Santos says, “it’s important
for Asian and Pacific Islanders in San Francisco to be open to our own.
Transgender culture has been part of the API community forever, and so
we should take leadership against transgender discrimination in our
community.”
Typical Life
For Natasha, there are ups and downs,
but in general she lives a simple life. She works four days a week at
the restaurant. During the day, she does chores around the house and
she’ll take time out to enjoy the outdoors, driving around without
planning.
Though Natasha has had success, she
worries about the future like other transgender women. Asked how she
does it, Natasha responds: “Honestly, I’m dealing with the same
problems.”
She has already applied for two
positions in fashion production. In both cases, she says, the
interviewers were suspiciously “careful.” When asked what she felt
was important in a work environment, she replied that “one of the most
important things is respect as far as employees and their superiors go,
especially with how I am. I wouldn’t ask everyone to accept my
lifestyle, but I would want to be respected as a person.”
Looking back, Natasha says with a
rueful laugh, “Both people who interviewed me had this look on their
faces that, ‘Hmmm, we better be careful with her.’ I was thinking
they just didn’t want to offend me; they were just trying to get rid
of me in a way.”
Natasha has not let those experiences
get her down, though, and says she will do everything she can to reach
her goals.
“If it means going through 10 or 20
job interviews and just finding someone to give me a chance, I will do
it. It doesn’t always boil down to being transgender, that that’s
the reason they don’t want me.
“If you have that frame of mind,
then you’re going to be unemployed forever. I think every opportunity
makes you a better person. I’m the type of person that tries to move
on.”
Her dreams are simple: She would love
to own her own business, she says, but beyond that just wants a
“comfortable life and not have to be worried about finding a job and
money. I don’t need to be rich, but I want some security.” She would
also like to support her parents, explaining that they sacrificed to
send her and her brother to good schools.
For now, she is content, saying she
is finally comfortable with herself.
She adds: “Everyday, I’m trying
to make my life better, knowing that it’s not going to be easy. I have
to save up and be prepared for certain circumstances, like if I lose my
job. Everyone goes through that, but it’s more intense for me.”
* Natasha's name has been changed to
protect her privacy.
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