Courage Under Fire
by Raven Usher
It never fails. They say it. They mean it as a compliment. But I still get irritated by the misconception.
In truth, I usually do not dispute the misconception. I simply smile and thank the person for the compliment and console my desire to correct them by reminding myself of their wonderful display of admiration. That is the important part of it, after all. That they are showing acceptance and support for a transgendered person.
As much as I like to see an average person, gay or straight, expressing acceptance for a transgendered person, I am still bothered by the misunderstanding of the driving force behind transition. I like getting compliments. I like the fact that others are inspired to offer compliments. But the truth seeker in me pains at the compliment coming from source that is not entirely accurate.
Sooner or later the people who get to know me will invariably say something along the lines of, “I really admire your courage.”
They are referring to my transition. This comment comes at a time when they have grown comfortable enough to ask me specific questions about what transition entails. They learn about the hardships, the prejudices, and the personal and financial costs of it all. For some reason people think that going through it in Idaho makes it even harder. I have not figured that logic out yet, but I am working on it. They calculate it all in their heads and imagine having to face the same or similar obstacles in their own lives. The prospect seems overwhelming to them and they make the assumption that I possess an excessive level of bravery.
It is a phenomenon that is not unique to just me. Other trannies get it as well. I have traded stories with many of my t-gurl friends and they are all very similar. In all fairness, I have to say that I do understand that point of view. And I find people’s ability to admire a transgendered person for any reason to be a sign of better times to come. It is a signal of hope. It is a promise of a future.
Still though, it is a misconception. My transition has absolutely nothing to do with courage. I did not shine up my armor, ready my sword and shield and head out to slay the dragon of intolerance. Quite the contrary. I slinked and crawled through shadows, avoiding as much as I could for as long as I could.
It was not my bravery that started me on the path of transition. It was my fear. My fear of living a lie. My fear of never being whole. My fear of dieing by my own hand.
I did not bravely face a year of androgyny. I did my best to camouflage it and keep it hidden. I did not bravely declare my transsexuality to the world. I put off those conversations until the people who love me cornered me and forced me to talk. I did not bravely go forth and fight to become a woman. I did it because my only other choice was death. And no, I was not fighting death. I was running from it.
I have gotten over most of those fears. I have learned enough and accomplished enough that I can stand tall and face the intolerance, the hatred and the discrimination. I have grown strong enough to fight back. I have built up the courage to meet the onslaught head-on. In short, I have become the person that so many others have mistaken me for when all this craziness started.
Or...
I could be completely wrong about the whole situation. Maybe they are all right and I did show courage. Maybe my point of view keeps me from seeing it that way. Maybe courage can only be seen by those who witness it and not by those who perpetrate it.
When I was a Marine a Drill Instructor once told me, “Heroes do not set out to become heroes. They are made heroes by acting when all others lay down.”
I was afraid. I hid in shadows. I even ran away. But I never laid down. So maybe they are right and I was brave. Still though, I never felt brave about it. Not then. Not now. And I still have trouble accepting that compliment.
Blessed Be.
by Raven Usher
It never fails. They say it. They mean it as a compliment. But I still get irritated by the misconception.
In truth, I usually do not dispute the misconception. I simply smile and thank the person for the compliment and console my desire to correct them by reminding myself of their wonderful display of admiration. That is the important part of it, after all. That they are showing acceptance and support for a transgendered person.
As much as I like to see an average person, gay or straight, expressing acceptance for a transgendered person, I am still bothered by the misunderstanding of the driving force behind transition. I like getting compliments. I like the fact that others are inspired to offer compliments. But the truth seeker in me pains at the compliment coming from source that is not entirely accurate.
Sooner or later the people who get to know me will invariably say something along the lines of, “I really admire your courage.”
They are referring to my transition. This comment comes at a time when they have grown comfortable enough to ask me specific questions about what transition entails. They learn about the hardships, the prejudices, and the personal and financial costs of it all. For some reason people think that going through it in Idaho makes it even harder. I have not figured that logic out yet, but I am working on it. They calculate it all in their heads and imagine having to face the same or similar obstacles in their own lives. The prospect seems overwhelming to them and they make the assumption that I possess an excessive level of bravery.
It is a phenomenon that is not unique to just me. Other trannies get it as well. I have traded stories with many of my t-gurl friends and they are all very similar. In all fairness, I have to say that I do understand that point of view. And I find people’s ability to admire a transgendered person for any reason to be a sign of better times to come. It is a signal of hope. It is a promise of a future.
Still though, it is a misconception. My transition has absolutely nothing to do with courage. I did not shine up my armor, ready my sword and shield and head out to slay the dragon of intolerance. Quite the contrary. I slinked and crawled through shadows, avoiding as much as I could for as long as I could.
It was not my bravery that started me on the path of transition. It was my fear. My fear of living a lie. My fear of never being whole. My fear of dieing by my own hand.
I did not bravely face a year of androgyny. I did my best to camouflage it and keep it hidden. I did not bravely declare my transsexuality to the world. I put off those conversations until the people who love me cornered me and forced me to talk. I did not bravely go forth and fight to become a woman. I did it because my only other choice was death. And no, I was not fighting death. I was running from it.
I have gotten over most of those fears. I have learned enough and accomplished enough that I can stand tall and face the intolerance, the hatred and the discrimination. I have grown strong enough to fight back. I have built up the courage to meet the onslaught head-on. In short, I have become the person that so many others have mistaken me for when all this craziness started.
Or...
I could be completely wrong about the whole situation. Maybe they are all right and I did show courage. Maybe my point of view keeps me from seeing it that way. Maybe courage can only be seen by those who witness it and not by those who perpetrate it.
When I was a Marine a Drill Instructor once told me, “Heroes do not set out to become heroes. They are made heroes by acting when all others lay down.”
I was afraid. I hid in shadows. I even ran away. But I never laid down. So maybe they are right and I was brave. Still though, I never felt brave about it. Not then. Not now. And I still have trouble accepting that compliment.
Blessed Be.
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