CLH Words

Let’s talk about joy. Specifically, let’s talk about trans joy. Trans joy is a term often used in the trans community (though I have also heard—and experienced—crip and/or queer joy, though those terms are used less often) to refer to the euphoria and…joy that often comes with being trans. Trans joy takes many forms, often with firsts—wearing my first dress after coming out, starting HRT, getting called ma’am for the first time, etc. It’s the joy of finally being authentic and yourself. That’s usually what people mean when they talk about trans joy, but I want to take it a bit further.

               I recently made a new friend. She’s a bit older than me—five years—but only came out as trans this year and just started her transition—both social and medical. At least once a week, she’ll text me ecstatic about some milestone in her transition. This week it was attending her first wedding in a dress. The week before that, it was her fully coming out to her parents. She experiences her trans joy, and her instinct is to share it with me. To share it with a fellow transwoman who has been there and who gets it. Yet, she also messages me about bad times. She texts me about having to boy mode (a term used by transwomen, usually who are early in their transition and thus not passing yet, meaning to dress as a boy/man in certain circumstances where being visibly trans is unsafe), or when a coworker says something shitty. She turns to me both with her trans joy but also the transphobia and shit she has to go through as a transwoman. She’s not looking for advice from someone who has been out longer but for community and support.

               My team at work took a moment to celebrate me at my last team meeting before my leave. I am having bottom surgery tomorrow and will be off work for several weeks. I used the term trans joy with them. They didn’t fully understand (being, to my knowledge, all cis) but were happy for me and sat with me in my joy. While I have work/life balance, these people are part of my life, and thus part of my community. They do not fully understand my joy, but they can be happy for me. They can share in my moment.

               My bottom surgery is tomorrow. That sentence fills me with incredible joy. And I am putting it out into the world. I have known I am getting surgery since February. In the last five months, there have been many joyful moments. Yet, most of my joy comes not from within, but from my community. Sharing the news with my friends and family. Having them sit in the joy with me. Making plans with them to help support me in recovery. Seeing them rise up and offer me what support they can. My joy is not only mine, but that of my community. I often see trans joy talked about as something that a trans person experiences themself, like a kind of happiness. And while that is true, I think true trans joy moves beyond the individual and into the community.

               My trans work-friend messaged me a couple days ago. She was upset. An email went out to all staff at work with a digital card to sign for me. The email said that I was having gender affirming care. My work-friend didn’t know if I had consented to telling everyone at work that I was having bottom surgery. My work-friend knows that often times trans people are not given any privacy. That our bodies are not viewed as our own, but as something to be scrutinized. She knows that this goes double for disabled trans people like myself. And they saw that email and assumed, with decent reason, that my privacy was being ignored. So they reached out to make sure I was aware and to offer their support. I had given my consent. I made the decision with my manager to be open about my surgery. While I have experienced transphobia in the past—both overt and everyday—at my org, I also have been overwhelmingly supported by my manager and the company itself. I knew that me being open about my surgery would be met with support (at least publicly) and could help people be more comfortable with trans care. Also, I knew it could be a way to share my trans joy with my work. Once my work-friend heard this, she immediately turned back to joy. They congratulated me and sat in trans joy with me. Trans joy isn’t ignoring the struggles we face. It isn’t ignoring the pain and violations of privacy. It is seeing them, offering to help and support, and then moving past them. Trans joy isn’t joy in the absence of awfulness, but rather a breath of fresh air despite it.

               Continue with me for one more example: Dora Richter. I cried when I found out she lived. Erin Reed (a great trans reporter–@erininthemorning) made a video about the news that Dora Richter survived. Dora was the first trans woman to receive sex reassignment surgery. She was believed to be killed when the Nazis raided and lotted the Institute of Sexuality in Berlin or in the subsequent years but recent reports show that she in fact survived and lived to old age. When I first watched Erin’s video, I did not know Dora’s name. I knew of her, of the work that the Institute did, of the Nazi’s destruction of it. But I did not know her name. Yet, when I cried. This person born a centaury before me on a different continent, had survived. I know she is just one person from history, but she survived despite what everyone had assumed. The kinship I feel with her, with all my trans siblings from history is real. And the joy I feel to know that she survived and went on to live her life is tremendous. Trans joy is not individual joy. It is not joy ignoring the pain, the oppression, the fear. It is joy in the face of it all. It is seeing and experiencing community, both with those you know, those that came before you, those that are going through it now that you have yet to, or never will, meet. Trans joy is seeing that she lived to be herself another day and knowing that maybe, just maybe, you will too.

               These are a few of the things I am thinking about leading up to my surgery. I come back to community, to resilience, to joy. We are living through dark times, but by gods we are living. I will continue to be myself. I will continue to experience joy, both my own and others, and continue to share my own with my community. Tomorrow is a moment of trans joy for me, and I know I am not alone in it.