The Boy Next Door

Years ago a dear friend of mine came to visit me in DC, and we got to talking. (This was before I transitioned – before I even spoke openly about wanting to... ) My friend knew me well enough to ask the right questions to get me to open up, but she wasn't prepared for what I might say, and what did end up saying.

What I remembered most about my confession that she found shocking was not that I wanted to transition, but more specifically that I wanted to transition to become the boy next door. She was flabbergasted. "Why would anyone want to be the boy next door???" she shrieked.

For me, I had always drawn a little too much attention to myself by living too close to the center of gender ambiguity. Strangers couldn't always deduce which sex I was, and they sometimes reacted quite aggressively to let me know about their disdain for my androgynous ways. They thought nothing of embarrassing me in public with their loud comments, or emphatic sneers. I never quite understood how my choices to have shorter hair and to wear jeans could come across as some personal affront to these people I'd had never met before. Why were they angry enough to want to humiliate me, as if they wanted to shame me back into one side of the spectrum of the other? What about my seemingly benign, if not outright boring, life stood as a direct provocation to them?

Sure, I get it – humans crave classifications. It's in our brain structure to want to divide things up, and put them into categories in order to better understand things. It's what separates us from lesser developed animals. But, why did they react in anger when they couldn't categorize me? I understand that evolutionarily speaking, things that deviate from what we'd consider normal and healthy scare us, as a way to prevent us from propagating with someone who might not be our best investment for carrying our genetic materials into a hypothetical future. Yada yada yada. I get it... Whatever.

But all of this has just made me want to hide. I want to slink away from the spotlight that has too often been focused on this body of mine. One which already made me feel awkward and alienated enough in my own mind, let alone culturally... A body that first made me feel victimized by not appearing like the boyish image I have *always* internalized in my head, then further becoming one that made me feel victimized by the countless strangers who wished to abuse and mock me in some public fashion. It is easy to imagine that I'd want all of that to change.

Somehow admitting to my good friend that I simply wanted to be like the boy next door made her cringe in disbelief. She had worked her whole life to escape the confines of her small southern hometown, and the related dogma that went with it. As she rose above her projected social station, having gotten into a great undergraduate program, and then an Ivy League medical school, she was stumped that I seemingly wanted to regress. But I didn't see this boy next door image as stepping backwards.

For those of you who might know me closely, I think it kind of fits. My heartfelt attempts to be cordial and pleasant, with (hopefully) refined manners. My small town rearing used to feel like a handicap, and now I guess I embrace it. I pretend that it's my charm...

But it's funny that I was assumed to be some militant lesbian when people thought I was a woman, but now that they think I'm a guy, I am told constantly how "gentlemanly" I am. I pretty much wear the same exact clothes, have roughly the same hair styles, and the same demeanor. It's just the context that has changed ~ which has changed everything. I went from people scowling and berating me to now smiling and graciously thanking me for holding the door open for them in the same way I did before. It's crazy-making...

I didn't want to 'become a man' to escape the social pressures of looking like a mannish woman. I wanted to transition because it is what felt organic to the sense of self I've always imagined since I was a kid. This is why I identify as a transman, and not just a man – because I don't want to dismiss or deny the foundation of my female body, and the experiences that lead me here. But how much do I love that I get to see both sides so blatantly, and illuminate these gross inequities, as if I was some covert gender spy reporting for some high brow, informative article? Or like a contemporary version of Virginia Woolf's Orlando, but going in opposite directions.

Now that I am perceived to be a guy I am asked directions a lot more, strangers will ask me for help or make random chit chat that they never did before. I am addressed frequently as "Chief, Buddy, Captain," and the like, which is hilarious to me. More than that, I love the feeling of being a 'nice young man' when meeting the family of a prospective girlfriend. I've had far too many run ins with fathers who thought I corrupted their precious babies, and now, I get to be the charming guy that brings a gift to dinner, and tells them how wonderful their daughter is without seeming insanely creepy.

The truth is, I want to be the boy next door. Maybe I'm not aiming very high, but there it is... I don't think that negates any possibility of success and aspirations that might male me notable. But I do, I want to be that guy... The sweet, funny one, with the perfect comedic timing, and fortitude to fix problems before they devolve. And I guess I want to find my girl next door. Again, not that she can't propel herself to stardom or recognizable fame, but I think I want someone with those roots, that set of instincts.

It must sound so pedestrian and insipid, but that's the kind of life I dream about in secret when on one's around. Finding this incredibly sweet, but fiery, feisty, brilliant, talented, sexy, attentive woman to make me feel like I have met my match. I had found some good contenders before, but it hasn't quite worked out yet for the long haul. There's still time, right?