I’m a Transgender Woman and a Tomboy. What’s The Harm?

Stereotypes don’t hurt people — gender cops do

Image created by author using artwork by Arkirkland (CC0) and AnonMoos, AIGA (Public domain), via Wikimedia Commons

“You dress like a postmodern lesbian feminist.”

That was according to one of my friends and classmates way back in my undergraduate uni days — before I came out as trans or was in a lesbian relationship, as I am now.

But what exactly did he mean by this?

Was my classmate policing my gender, or was it a joke? Was he being sincere in his observation (he was on to something, after all)? Was there any harm here, either in his assertions or my presentation?

I ask these questions because it hopefully begins to highlight just how complicated, even contradictory, norms and stereotypes can be.

(I’ve never quite figured out what a “postmodern lesbian” is, even with my doctorate in sociology, so please don’t expect an answer on that one.)

Intrinsic inclinations

In Julia Serano’s book Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity, she outlines what she calls the intrinsic inclinations model.

According to Serano, we can break human sexual and gender variation down into three categories:

1. Subconscious sex (I’ll refer to this as gender identity) — our internal sense of gender identity, separate from our biological “sex” assigned at birth.

2. Gender expression — how we express our gender identity, through clothing, mannerisms, speech, or any number of other things.

3. Sexuality — who we are sexually attracted to, which might be based on genital or physical preference or gender preference (or both, or none).

Serano believes these three categories are “to some extent, intrinsic to our persons, as they occur on a deep, subconscious level“ (pg. 99) and generally aren’t changeable through self-suppression or social influence.

The term “intrinsic” here shouldn’t be taken to mean “born with” or based purely on an individual’s biology.

According to Serano, “no single genetic, anatomical, hormonal, environmental, or psychological factor has ever been found to directly cause any of these gender inclinations, we can assume that […] multiple factors determine them through complex interactions” (pg. 99).

How do norms and stereotypes relate?

Despite social stereotypes insisting that these three things — gender identity, gender expression, and sexuality — be in alignment, that isn’t always the case.

Even when these things aren’t in alignment, society tries to impose different stereotypes which attempt to make sense of this misalignment and in turn reinforce cisgender and heterosexual norms.

A classic stereotype is that gay men are effeminate, but why? Usually, as per social norms, women are attracted to men, and women are effeminate, so men who are attracted to other men must also have a feminine gender expression.

This doesn’t really make sense — and certainly isn’t always true — but we can see it as an attempt to reinforce existing norms to some extent by constructing a stereotype that makes this misalignment culturally intelligible.

It gets more complicated with trans people, where it isn’t sexuality that is being linked to gender expression, but gender identity and assigned sex.

Society can just about handle a mismatch between gender identity, gender expression and sexuality (though for many that acceptability is still, sadly, very much up for debate).

When it comes to accepting that gender identity and assigned sex might be misaligned, we’re still kind of struggling. It’s a misalignment too far for some, not least because our construction of sex and gender as binary identities has become inextricable.

Self-police or be policed

The strange thing about my classmate’s comment is that, right up until I came out and transitioned, I was always teased and even bullied by peers, male and female, for not living up to male stereotypes.

Every even slightly “feminine” deviation from that norm was policed, often ruthlessly. This occurred to the extent that I began to police myself from my teens onwards.

I overcompensated by doing things like growing my beard out, or always talking in mumbles, lest the somewhat feminine and sometimes high-pitched nature of my voice got me into trouble with self-appointed gender cops.

But the gender policing continued.

Any bit of femininity was derided as “gay” (the invocation of a stereotype to make intelligible this misalignment): clothing choices were ridiculed; turns of phrase were questioned. Even some of the music I liked was deemed not “masculine enough”.

My choice of girlfriends, who were often on the more “tomboyish” side of gender presentation, was made fun of (and their gender expression policed in the process) — “real men” should have girlfriends who looked like Barbie, and certainly shouldn’t date girls who were taller than them, or bigger than them.

And so I self-policed even more.

This became not just a denial of my gender expression, but of my already suppressed (trans)gender identity. Imposed on and used to bully me, these stereotypes were undoubtedly harmful.

But, as Serano notes, identity and expression aren’t choices, but intrinsic: no amount of suppression or social influence — or bullying — can make them go away.

Lose-lose

Now I openly identify as a transgender woman I can be as “feminine” as I want.

Or can I?

Being a trans woman can often mean you find yourself in a lose-lose situation when it comes to gender identity and expression.

When a trans woman doesn’t act “feminine” enough, she is often punished. Sadly this punishment sometimes comes from both the cisgender and transgender communities.

If you are a trans woman who doesn’t look “feminine” enough, then you are likely to be challenged about using women’s spaces. Cisgender people will refer to you as a man for failing to meet society’s normative alignment of gender identity and expression.

This can come from the trans community as well: not presenting sufficiently “feminine” is seen as not being “trans enough”, according to what scholars have termed transnormativity — the application of cisgender norms to transgender people, often by the medical and transgender community itself.

A longstanding issue with transgender healthcare is the idea that a person’s gender expression must align with their gender identity for the latter to be valid. Gender expression is used, incorrectly, as a proxy for gender identity — and to great harm, such as in denying gender-affirming care.

Incidentally, this is something, as a somewhat butch or “masculine” trans woman, I am dreading if I ever get a first appointment with NHS gender services.

Of course, transgender women aren’t the only ones subject to this kind of gender policing.

Butch cisgender women, as well as other butch or “masculine”-presenting people, including nonbinary folks, trans men still in the closet, and mid-transition transgender men who don’t feel confident enough to use the men’s bathroom (due to, you know, transphobia) are also challenged and harassed for not looking “feminine” enough while trying to use women’s spaces.

When trans people say that transmisogyny is just misogyny, and therefore also harmful to cisgender women (and everyone else who isn’t a cisgender man), this is exactly what we mean.

Too femme or not too femme

So just express my gender identity in a more “feminine” way, right?

Well, as noted, gender expression, like gender identity, isn’t necessarily a choice; we don’t choose how we’re comfortable presenting ourselves to the world, that’s just how we feel at an intrinsic level.

And even if it was a choice, again as noted, trans women just can’t win.

When trans women act feminine, or even hyper-feminine, we are accused of “imitating” or even “mocking” femininity, and therefore mocking cisgender women.

This is because, in the transphobic view of those policing our gender expression in this way, trans women aren’t really women. They’re policing our gender expression as a way of policing our gender identity.

Ironically, we’re accused of reinforcing a harmful stereotype of femininity — I say ironic, because what the people saying this are doing is imposing a social norm that says that our sex assigned at birth must determine both our gender identity and our gender expression.

Arguably another reason trans women are punished for being “feminine” is that we show the constructed “naturalness” of gender norms associated with “sex” as being false: someone assigned male at birth can be “feminine”, these traits aren’t inherent, and therefore neither is male dominance of women based on gender stereotypes.

The Goldilocks gender

Here’s the thing about me: I have, completely by accident — a very lucky accident, given the intrinsic status of gender identity and expression — found myself in a stereotypical gender sweet spot.

I am a transgender woman and I am a tomboy.

I am “feminine” enough that people don’t question my gender identity. But I am “masculine” enough to be read as, stereotypically, a butch lesbian (or tomboy).

But I still have to consider stereotypes and norms. Sometimes I like to wear a dress, but I worry I will be seen as the stereotypically hyper-feminine trans woman and abused for it.

I would like to try a shorter haircut, but I worry this will tip the delicate balance of butch/femme I’ve stumbled upon and end in my being misgendered and harassed.

If we’re talking about the internalised norms around sex/gender, and ultimately transnormativity, then I worry that I am not “woman” enough, or even trans enough, because I don’t want certain surgeries, or have dysphoria about some things and not others.

Again, concern about our presentation vis-a-vis norms and stereotypes is something we all face, but especially women and trans women — perhaps especially trans women.

What harm?

So in my current (mis)alignment of identity, expression and sexuality, I defy norms and stereotypes in a (somewhat) acceptable way by… meeting the definition of another stereotype: I am perceived as a stereotypically butch lesbian or even just as a bit of a tomboy.

Is that harmful?

Am I reinforcing a sometimes harmful stereotype of what a lesbian should look like? Or have I just internalised that stereotype and acted according to my intrinsic inclination, even before I came out as either a woman or identified as being in a lesbian relationship?

Are cisgender women who act feminine and are also heterosexual harming anyone by conforming to those norms? Is “conforming” even the right word, given the intrinsic status of gender identity, expression and sexuality?

Is a transgender woman who is, unlike me, very feminine and heterosexual reinforcing harmful stereotypes? Again, is “reinforcing” the right word, or does it imply agency and choice where there is little to none?

My resounding answer to all of that is… No.

In these scenarios nobody is imposing stereotypes (or norms) on another person —arguably on themselves, yes, but even then often at the subconscious level of an intrinsic inclination, and when consciously out of a sense of necessity.

That’s almost unavoidable since most of us internalise norms and stereotypes through socialisation.

Stereotypes don’t harm people, people harm people

In the above examples, we’re just acting per our intrinsic inclinations, which have developed as part of our broader identity. Some of us might escape or reject certain norms or stereotypes as part of our socialisation (or rejection thereof), but ultimately we’re just doing what feels right for us.

In a lot of cases, these norms and stereotypes are imposed on us through the threat of punishment; in others, they can lead to acceptance.

C o m p l i c a t e d

Cisgender men who aren’t masculine enough, or who are gay, might be bullied, but in another context “feminine” men might be the norm, and might even be favoured by some potential partners.

Transgender women who aren’t feminine enough might not “pass” and are therefore at risk of social exclusion or even violence, but might in another context be celebrated for their radically queer presentation.

In the wrong context, a cisgender woman who is butch might be rejected by peers, in another she might be accepted as a “proper” lesbian, while a more “femme” lesbian, or especially a femme bisexual woman, might have their sexuality questioned.

It’s the people and systems which reinforce these stereotypes, rather than the stereotyped behaviours, that are causing harm.

The second I start to impose stereotypes on another or discriminate against someone for not meeting my stereotypical standard of how I think they should exist in the world, then I am being harmful.

Stereotypes don’t harm people — those wielding stereotypes and norms to control others do.

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This story is a response to the Prism & Pen writing prompt, “My Queerness Changes How I Express Myself. Is that a Harmful Stereotype?” Prism & Pen is a queer/LGBTQIA+ Medium.com publication I help edit - if you’re on Medium and you like queer stories, fiction, non-fiction and poetry you should check us out!