Home, part 2: Day of Flight

(content warnings: I talk about transition, and reference sui and vio.)

Hello, my buddies and beauties! Miss Dee Jay here. And today... we're continuing to talk about home, because I want to talk about one type of home in particular: the trans community itself.

To put things briefly, I was wrong about transition. Really wrong. And, to be honest, I’m still trying to process it. (And, for those on the Fediverse, it seems like a lot of people are arguing about it.)

There’s a feeling of minimalism going into transition. “I’m just transitioning - changing gender. I’m not going to change anything other than that.” We want as little disruption to our lives, keeping as much of our previous existence even as our existence changes.

The reality of transitioning ends up being far more than what we initially expect - and for so many reasons. We discover just how pervasive misogyny is in society, and our jobs may become difficult and problematic. We start to peel away the layers of our identity, the things we never let ourselves explore. Relationships strain, buckle, fracture; seemingly affirming “allies” and "friends" and even "family" turn out to be anything but, while other people step up and show us the beauty of their soul by standing with us. We make mistakes; sometimes they're recoverable, but sometimes we have to adapt to the consequences. We change careers, we change locations, we upend everything in our lives, and become far more of a new person than we ever imagined.

Put simply, I forgot the old adage I’d heard from an episode of Doctor Who: “When everything is new, can anything be a surprise?”

Maybe it’s a convenient self-deception. Transition is daunting enough as it is; having to give up things we hold dear can make it seem impossible. I’ve technically gone through just about everything I thought I would need for transition and then some, and what I find left still leaves me wondering if it’s all but impossible. (Granted, the sheer weight of bigotry pressing down might have some effect on all that.)

And the longer I go, the more I realize is lost; the more I realized how much I've shed in this transition. And yet, at the same time, I am consciously aware of how much I’ve gained, and how much more I have to gain.

All of this leads to an ending that I should have expected, that years of experience taught me to expect.

It’s time for me to spread my wings and fly.

Moreover, time is running out before I must spread my wings and fly.

I was warned about this, to be honest.

Years ago, long before I began my own transition, I sat in a car with a friend of mine (E___, for those who remember my earlier post) as she talked about what it was like to be trans, what the trans community in general was like. I was absorbing this information if it ever became useful for me.

During this, she pointed out one rather interesting characteristic of the trans community: that it had churn. People tended to stop going to the trans support group meetups over time, that they effectively went on with their lives.

This, of course, was what she did explain; there was more that she didn’t. There were the other parts to that statement that I learned later, how for decades trans folks were expected to “woodwork”, to fade into the background of society as though they were never “trans”, but always men, always women. Those that could not were exiled, effectively cast out of society. The concept of an out and open trans person, in particular a trans woman, was almost unheard of back then, only the realm of people too famous to successfully woodwork.

Decades passed. Society changed, at least nominally. And it eventually became my time to transition. After a few years of trying to transition on my own and nearly being driven to suicide, the trans community was there, willing and able to lend a hand. I struggled in the early months, but eventually living and working every day as me became my life.

This was not without problems; this was not without struggle. That interplay of person and society ends up becoming a feedback loop, almost a negotiation; one part of transition creates a response from both the inner self and outer society, which in turn shapes further transition, in an iterative process. Coming out, managing the multiple events of coming out, is always a challenge. Discovering just how pervasive and malignant misogyny can be. Finding out who would stand with us, who would stand against us, and who would sell us out for, as Simon and Garfunkel once put it, a "pocket full of mumbles". All of the struggles involved with qualifying for and eventually getting the surgeries I needed. Exploring who I am, discovering just how much damage was done, and trying desperately to heal. This is all a process of transition and adaptation to become the people we were meant to be. Through this, I slowly changed, slowly transitioned, slowly grew up in the community.

I’d say I did the impossible, but it wasn’t just me. Through all of this, the trans community was there. Helping me out when I needed. Guiding me through the difficult times. Giving a shoulder to cry on. And, in turn, I helped out when needed, guided others through their difficult times, lent a shoulder to cry on. Eventually, the baby trans becomes the trans elder, the guide, the wise woman or man or enby.

It was home. A home we made, a home we built, a home we tended, a home we shared. A home of love.

And yet, by design, there was the churn that E____ had spoken of. People faded from the group as their transitions led them away. Some moved away, to start over or to flee from a difficult situation. Some got married or started more unconventional relationships - the t4t relationships and the u-hauls are quite alive and well. Sometimes there were messy splits or breakups; none of us are perfect, and I have seen entire communities fracture from disagreement. And some just simply went on with their lives.

They had their day of flight, and went on.

Another reason for leaving - a far more terrifying reason - made itself known. Even as we tried to provide a safe haven for our siblings, the lunatic fringe became government policy. The dark specter of transphobia rose all around us, threatening to swallow all of us whole. We lost so many as a result; many went underground, and more of us were lost to suicide or violence. And some, sensing the storm to come, spread their wings to fly, making their ways to safer environs.

In this, because of this, I find I must do the impossible once more - and reach my own Day of Flight. I’ve already done one near-impossible thing in that regard - I somehow got my wings, got the air beneath them, seemingly against all probability - but one more remains. I’ve urged others to do the same in their own way, given my own wisdom to help in this regard, help the youngsters stay safe, stay alive in the oncoming storm.

I’m basically limping to the edge. I think I’ve found a way, think I've found my course. I just hope my wings will hold up long enough to get into the air before the storm arrives.

It was the last part of this essay that was the hardest - the music. This was a case where the subject matter came before the song, because there were so many appropriate songs out there. There were even two different works with the same title - “Learning to Fly” - that I could have chosen. And, while I’m feeling okay about saying no to Tom Petty (sorry, Tom; RIP), it’s harder to say no to anything Pink Floyd. I suspect I’ll come back to their version later; it’s just too good not to cover.

But this time…. I want to talk about my favorite anime of all time. It might seem like a bit of a surprise for some, as it’s the lesser-known work of a particular artist. That said, it’s also the work that this artist had the most creative control over.

My buddies and beauties, let me introduce you to Haibane Renmei.

Haibane Renmei, created and written by Yoshitoshi ABe, is about a young woman who wakes up in a walled city called Glie, with no memories of her past, having hatched from an egg-like cocoon. Within hours after hatching, wings painfully sprout from her back. Shortly thereafter, a halo is placed on top of her head, and she is told she is a Haibane - a winged person who lives within the walls of the city until her Day of Flight. After she talks about the nature of the dream she had in her cocoon where she was falling, she is given the name of Rakka.

Haibane have particular rules by which they must live; they cannot handle money, for instance, instead working more-or-less by barter or for favors, and can only work and live in the oldest of a particular establishment in the city. That said, the townsfolk generally look out for them, making sure they are treated decently. Much of the series is about Rakka living with her fellow Haibane, working, taking care of the younger Haibane and helping them out, and ultimately coming to terms with her past and who she is, and helping her fellow Haibane do the same.

In other words, very much like what it is like in the early years of transition, when being in the trans community is a lifeline. (Ironically, Iris von Gotten wrote an article on the trans allegory of Haibane Renmei - but we differed on the stage of transition. Von Gotten wrote about Haibane Renmei as allegory for the times pre-transition, while I see the allegory of the transition itself, as we learn our way into apotheosis.)

As trans people, many of us must transition. As a result, we find ourselves in our communities, trying to make sense of ourselves, of our pasts, and of our futures. As we do this, we become parts of those communities, learning from the elders, learning from those who've been before us. Some of us, unfortunately, don’t make it. (This, unfortunately, is also a possibility in Haibane Renmei, where a Haibane fails to take flight in time.). But ultimately, many of us do find our way, and we grow and develop. Maybe we make mistakes along the way, but ultimately we come into our own. We slowly go from being baby transes to trans elders, and become the ones imparting wisdom, imparting lessons. Eventually we progress beyond the walls of the community; we make our way to the Day of Flight, when we reach beyond the walls of the community and into our own lives - not just as trans beings, not just as trans men and women and folks, but as the complete human beings we were meant to be.

And, so, I give you the theme song for Haibane Renmei: Free Bird ~ Mahiru no Tsuki e To. (Free Bird: To the Midday Moon.) It's about as close to angelic as any anime song is likely to get, dominated by choruses and harps, precisely what would be thought of with "traditional" angels.

An English translation, from animesonglyrics.com:

Before long the eternal silence
Will melt in the blue blue sky
The pale shadow of the midday moon
Will soon, soon call the future

When wrapped up by the earth's breath
Where will the tears come back to?
Even if hurt, life will
Become kind and strong

While offering a limitless prayer
Quietly close the now, the now
The timbre you hear, beyond the woods
Hurry, hurry, say it in your voice

When I was forgiven by everything in this world
I understood the meaning of love
From the clouds on the day of flight
I could suddenly see the light

My wish for all trans folks reading this: Your home, this home in the trans community, may not be your home forever. Cherish it while it is here, cherish it in your heart, but know that there may come a day where your transition takes you beyond these walls.

On that day, go forward with all you are and all you have become and all you can become, spread your wings, and fly.

Notes:

Ever have a post that you have to write, but can't? That's where I am now - a post that is just breaking me, a post about being broken. We'll see if I am finally able to get there. This is almost certainly going to mean more Pink Floyd music, so there's that...

Sorry about the delay of a couple months. This post may have some flowery language about taking flight, but that flight - and that urgency - is very real. Because of the current political situation, I am having to make preparations that I never thought I would consider, preparations to leave more parts of my life behind.

We're going to need miracles, my sisters, brothers, and siblings. But know that you can make those miracles happen.