I am in a public restroom off 95 in southern Maine, wondering what makes a man and also if I can muffle my piss stream with balled up toilet paper so as not to draw attention to myself. Will I ever be able to walk into a bathroom and not think about the sound of urine on porcelain? Can I be proud to sit down and have the foreign echoes of my splashing business announce me to the universe as a transman, a crosser of the great divide, a miracle. Can I be a man and a miracle at once?
It’s not necessarily time for philosophy, but I have just begun to pass and I am still whisker-less and slight compared to fellow travelers. My biggest concern currently is not spiritual but physical, specifically the physicality of the two huge dudes who walked in right behind me, linebacker in size and head-to-toe in leather and flannel, sort of like Libertarian, less mullet-y versions of Dog the Bounty Hunter. I hurry ahead, trying not to look tweaky, and keep my head up. I am, more and more, shading “guy” in people’s first-glance assessments. I am “Sir” and sometimes “Son.” I am, finally, never “Ma’am.”
I drop trough and try to relax, but the particularly barrel-chested one takes the stall next to me, which stops my stream mid-flow. I see the leather-daddy-ish one in front of the stall on my other side, the zipper of his motorcycle jacket glinting menacingly in the fluorescent light.
This is not good. I’ve used men’s rooms even before taking T without ever an issue, but now bowel-quivering visions of cracked skulls and internal bleeding dance through my head. The floor is tacky with urine and dark with something I’d rather not meditate on; not where I want to faceplant.
When I started hormone therapy eight months ago, I’d already had top surgery. I’d spent most of my young adulthood making old folks working the register at CVS tongue-tied, and I thought knowing how to cock my hat and swagger a little so as to not get my ass kicked while refueling in Wyoming was all I needed to navigate the world of men. I figured I’d mostly stick to my own kind: queers and sensitive straight dudes who made art and knew their rising signs.
But that’s not how it turned out. I moved back to New England after years in the woo-woo Bay Area, and suddenly I was a sausage-less guy in a sea of sausage, a dude who knew astrology and wrote lyrical essays and halfway paid attention to the Steelers but only if they’re winning. No “think fast,” no Sox hat. I am a lover, not a fighter. In high school I chased girls and wrote poetry and went to metal shows with my queer best friend. Now I co-edit a style blog and have a messy pompadour and kind of gay obsession with James Dean. That about catches us up, and now here I am in a restroom off the interstate in southern Maine in desert boots. And glasses.
I realize that 30 years of blurry insults about my indeterminate gender by drunks outside of bars, rapey newspaper headlines, and some run-ins with a few exceptionally bad seeds (including the one, most memorably, that held a gun to my head a couple of years ago) has made me pretty afraid of dudes. Now that I am one, this is becoming a problem.
I flush the toilet to give myself a minute to think. I could wait them out. I could run (right?) But what if my wife wasn’t waiting outside? What if she went to the snack bar? If I made it out alive, I wouldn’t even tell her that I was scared, because then she would imagine me getting boot stomped to my face every time we stopped for food and I couldn’t let that happen.
As the whoosh subsides, I decide to stay, and just as my thoughts crystallize and the water settles, the dude on my left, in a soothing , breathy falsetto, says, “Alright, I’m going to lift you up, ready?”
And a tiny voice squeaks, “Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah.”
I exhale, and almost laugh. There it is. This is what being in the world of men means to me. It means the threat of violence, knife-sharp, ready to explode in a brushed shoulder at a strange bar. It means head nods from maintenance workers, a whole team of humans welcoming me wherever I go. It means women cross the street away from me at night. And it means that I know nothing, that a man stands guard over his son’s stall on my right and another praises his kid’s tinkles on my left, and it’s heartbreaking, almost, how little we really know about each other.
What does it mean to be a man? To me it means a lot, and nothing at all. It means I’m 30 years old and I love my body. It means that men look at me and see an ally, or a threat. It means that in male spaces I am often apprehensive, that I keep my head down, but lately, when I look up my co-worker has stopped by to get advice on tailoring, or the guy in the stall next to me sings “Good job” unselfconsciously to his child. It means nothing is what it seems, that none of us can look at another and know what’s in his pants or his heart, and that surprise is inevitable, but how you react to it is who you are.
***
Rumpus original artwork by Jason Novak.
27 responses
Dude – No dude likes standing shoulder to shoulder with other dudes at a urinal. Take a breath. Piss. Leave. You’re not being judged. You’re urinating. So’s everyone else. We are not living in a constant state of near violence. Sorry you feel that way.
Easy for you to say, Dan, because you’ve likely never been the victim of bashing (or apparently been close to someone who has).
I just wanted to say that this piece rocks.
I loved this piece. And yes, Dan S., you are luckier than you apparently know to have the perspective you have.
This is so great – I’m consistently awed by your work. And yes, I’m glad that Dan doesn’t feel as though he is living in a constant state of near violence, but that’s not everyone’s experience. I can’t wait to read more of this column.
I’m not interested in getting into a pissing match about this. It’s a great article I don’t want to detract from it. And I’m certainly not going to argue about who’s had the most pain in his life or who is “luckier.” OK?
I’m the guy holding his kid up at the urinal. The fact that neither I nor any adult male I know cares about the quality of the sound produced when some other guy’s urine hits the porcelain should be reassuring.
But that’s the problem, Dan. You don’t know that no other adult male you know cares about that sound. And what’s more important, you don’t know that many people, relatively speaking. The fear being described here is real and it’s real for good reason. To blithely dismiss it is a pretty jerky thing to do.
Sorry for being jerky, Brian.
Just so humane, and honest. Just…ah, brilliant (trying not to swear from inarticulate brain)
Love this line ~ none of us can look at another and know what’s in his pants or his heart, and that surprise is inevitable, but how you react to it is who you are. Beautiful way to sum it up and perhaps should have been noted by a couple of the men here.
All dudes who use the truckstop restroom are a little terrified of something: If we make eye-contact w/another dude = being cruised/mistaken for a cruiser. When pissing in urinal= of dudes judging our size. If our eyes wander from the wall in front of our urinal, fear of being accused of judging other’s size.
We all want to get in, take care of business, mind our own and get out.
I know the world of manly stuff that you now get to enjoy(have to deal with?)may seem complicated and scary but it’s really simple. Dudes are simple. Dudes don’t give a damn. Bio-dudes are just as insecure as transmen, just more experienced in hiding restroom insecurities.
(PS: I cannot IMAGINE the terror of tryng to use a ladies room in ladies attire, but I’ve never tried…terrifying!!!)
I think it’s important to clarify that, as Thom points out in this essay, the surgery he had was strictly on the upper part of his body. This means that using the urinal isn’t an option–which then means he’s got to pee in a stall. Because violence to transgender people is very, very real, the risk of being “exposed” by such a simple action can be really dangerous. It’s an interesting perspective for non-transgender people to consider, and something that I think will be more deeply illuminated in Thom’s future essays in this series.
What would happen if the whole notion of gender were trivialized to the point where a chap’s junk was of about as much consequence as eye color? It’s one thing to have a preference for a penis or a vagina or both, but it’s all the rest that baffles me. The public reckoning of what a woman does, or what a man does – what a load of rubbish! If you want a penis, have a penis. If you want a vagina, have a vagina. But to walk a certain way, dress a certain way, talk a certain way – that shit is tyranny. Here’s the thing: to do something typically female, for example, in order to gain the confidence of a society so sick that it created typically female things in the first place is, in a sense, condoning it. Fuck toughness, fuck meekness, fuck boots, fuck high heels, fuck dresses, fuck pants, and fuck gender.
SOUP – I made the same mistake you just made. You thought this was about using men’s rooms. I did too because, as you state, dudes are simple. Maybe I paid too much attention to the first paragraph? Frankly, it’s gratifying to see that I’m not the only idiot out here.
What I learned about this essay from the comments is: 1) This is not about using men’s rooms; 2) Thom, as explained by those in the comment section, is, apparently, not interested in advice from actual guys who have used men’s rooms everyday of their adult lives; and, 3) neither you nor I actually know what is going on when we are in the men’s rooms.
Yes, violence against anyone who fails to conform to strict hetero norms of appearance and behavior are a daily, indisputable reality.
However, what SOUP (I assume) and I are saying is much simpler than that: guys in men’s rooms really are not paying close attention to other guys in men’s rooms, least of all the particular sound of urine hitting the bowl. I’m saying this (and I’m assuming SOUP is too) as a way of reassuring Thom, not as a way of denying violence based on gender and/or sexual orientation.
In other words, if you, Thom, are feeling threatened because you believe that guys in the men’s room are monitoring the timbre of your piss, you needn’t…
…any more than the guy in the stall next to you is concerned about appearing somehow “effeminate” for helping his boy. I’m telling you, he doesn’t give a shit what you think about him. Feel free, as you spend more time in men’s rooms, to reciprocate his lack of concern. I have no idea if this is the case in women’s rooms.
Dan-thanks for saying what I was unable to articulate. As a person who has used public MENS rooms for 40+ years, I can say with some certainty that this is generally not a place dudes like to spend any extra time, monitoring other’s piss flow, etc. And I do understand that Thom isn’t able to use a standard urinal. Lots of dudes use the stalls, stand, sit, piss, shit… most of us are uncomfortable doing what we would rather be doing in the privacy of our own chambers & therefore try & make a quick go of it and be on our way.
I understand that this essay is not simply about restrooms but about what the whole world of men means to Thom based on Thom’s life experience. Restrooms are merely one of those places where men come together and do things that only men can do, ie: publicly pee in a standard urinal.
After re-reading the last 2 paragraphs I thought to myself that a lot of this could have been written by any pre-pubescent bio-male, or any other person who is newly entering the world of full-on manhood for whatever reason. I remember being an underage drinker and feeling that there was a threat of violence at any brushed shoulder in a strange bar. Now a brushed shoulder is simply a brushed shoulder.
I wholeheartedly hope that Thom’s experiences on his adventure into manhood play out like mine did. So much was in my head. If I look for trouble I can find it but I’m generally just like any other dude… simple. I just want to take care of my business and move on.
Aside from the question of the article’s merit, I’m happy it occasioned this exchange between Dan S. and SOUP.
Granted, there are certainly a number of brutal men out there, and there are the brutalized who hail from any gender. But that a vast majority of men will not bust down your door and beat you for the crime of pissing while sitting down should go without saying. If nothing else, they’ll assume you’re taking a dump, because that’s a scenario in which all men piss sitting down. It’s not even a debate. Through some combination of moral uprightness and a fear of punishment, most human beings live and let live.
Making assumptions is easy. Loving a stranger is hard. Thom believes that the guy in the stall next door may be a queer-hating sociopath, when really he’s just a considerate father. Some of these commenters assume that Dan S. is glibly laying down some heteronormative bullshit at Thom’s expense, when really he’s trying to be welcoming and reassuring. We all have this strange habit of believing things are different on the other side of the fence–male and female, gay and straight, whatever–and they’re not. They’re not.
Thom, you seem like you have good reason to be afraid. I really do get it. You’ve had some truly terrible experiences; in your shoes, I’d probably be cautious, too. But what Dan was getting at, and what I’m getting at, is that we’re all scared, whether of physical violence or simply being misunderstood. Penis or no penis, we all have that problem in common. You’re not alone in that. I promise, you have nothing whatsoever to fear from just about any dude you’ll run into, and if you’re in a situation where you do (like, say, a truckstop bathroom) chances are anyone else, bio-male or otherwise, would be too. For the most part, I assure you, you can relax : )
First off, I love this essay. Second, regarding some of the things in the comments: I’m always wince-y when I hear people say being a guy is “simple.” It’s not simple to be anything at all. Being human is hard, and complicated, and I don’t think anyone has any idea what the right way is, or how we should be really, genuinely feeling about all the things we keep inside our private worlds.
Again, I realise this isn’t just about the sound of piss in a stall however one tip: If questioned, those with penis piercings also have to sit to pee as the metal-ware sends the stream in strange directions.
Could be a good cover story if anyone were to ever ask why you sit to pee?
I loved reading this, Thomas. Totally spot on and compassionate. You capture the rollercoaster of it all so eloquently.
I really just want to ditto what Dan S. was saying. It is true. Guys like us care and wonder about the smallest detail in the mens’ room, but no one else does. I get the fear, having been the recipient of random stranger violence one more than one occasion, but it’s been over eight years for me living in the world as a dude now, and all of my qualitative research (e.g.:using public restrooms)taught me first-hand: nobody cares what relieving yourself sounds like.
For every funny “man rule” I was told earlier on in my transition, I have seen so many examples of the opposite. For example, the “men never talk to men in restrooms or locker rooms unless it is a pick-up,”: not true. For instance, one guy at my gym rents a locker adjacent to mine, and at least once a week we are there at the same time. He always engages me in conversation, asks how my workouts are going, talks about how he dropped a couple of pounds and is now down to 200 lbs., and usually something about a football game on Sunday, to which I reply: “right on,” since I know nothing about football and don’t care enough to spend time learning. I am changing right there, shirt off, scars singing the star-spangled banner, and my dude talks about how his quarter is going, how many miles his daily run is up to, and losing weight.
Living in the world as a man has made me infinitely more compassionate towards other men. As you so aptly write about, it is a lot more layered than we can ever see when we operate from a place of fear. Thanks for a great read!
This makes me want to coach transmen through all the little things that being a “man” seems to require. I was born a male, and remain a male, and am surprisingly straighter than I ever thought I was.
However, it seemed to take me sooooo much longer to figure out these little things about being a guy that seemed to come naturally to other folks. I really wish there had been someone around me with a manual to coach me through all the ephemera.
Involving read. Thank you.
Thanks so much for this piece, Thom. As a trans man, I’ve had very similar experiences, particularly early on in my transition, so it really resonated with me. It’s so frustrating to know, in the rational part of your brain, that the vast majority of guys are just in the bathroom to do their business and don’t give a damn what you’re doing in the stall but to have an overwhelming, unshakable, in-all-probability irrational fear that somehow something you’re doing (or not doing) will “give you away” and potentially make you a target for ridicule and/or violence. That mix of adrenaline, relief, and feeling foolish when those fears prove to be unfounded is all too familiar.
As time passes and I get more and more accustomed to living as a man (and having others finally perceive me as the man I am), the fear is far less prominent, but the memory of that fear is something I’ll always carry with me, even if it only manifests as a small, unconscious sigh of relief each time I emerge from a men’s room unscathed.
I’m glad you survived the truck stop, and I look forward to reading more of your work!
Great article. I think I understand where you’re coming from Thom. I’m a male but love crossdressing and going out to bars and clubs, many times by myself. While being trans and crossdresser are two totally different things, we share some of the same issues when we leave the comfort zones and step into a world where violence is real and possibly right around the corner. I used to hang out exclusively at gay clubs as they’re thought to be safer and more welcoming but since I’m straight I wanted to branch out and try a few “straight” clubs. At first it was terrifying, especially knowing I would be spotted as a guy in a dress, but I soon learned that nobody cares. Like Dan said, people are generally happy to live and let live, especially in a public bathroom. These days I use both mens and womens bathrooms when dressed. I stand proudly when I piss, usually 5a inches taller in my heels. 😉
Thomas as a MtoF trans-woman I hear you from the other side. I remeber when I first started my transition going into the womens and making sure I pointed down to produce the right sound!! Being post-op nowdays I do not think about it. One of the advantages to the surgeries for my side!! My real concerns were the times I was out somewhere and made as trans. The worst was the time outside of a bar in Sunnyvale, California. 3 guys figured out I was trans and decided they should attak me!! I was lucky someone came along and chased them off before they could finish me. That was 13 years ago and I still have nightmares about it!! I also have this fear of being alone someplace with men!! But I am really happy with my life now!!
Pamela, that must have been terrifying; I wish I (and a couple of derby playin’ sisters on skates) had been with you in the alley along with the person who DID help you. Instead of chasing off the bullies we could have chased them DOWN and brought them back to apologize and grovel and call you Ma’am, VERY politely. Well, it’s a dream! So glad to hear about your happiness now.
Speechless in terms of what to say to Thomas (“Uh. Wow!”) but I will share the links and I am super grateful for the exchange between DanS and SOUP. Is “being a guy” simple, or complicated? Obviously both.
[Caveat; this is based on my own genderqueer FANTASY masculinity, ok?] My own “guy brain” asks only three simple questions, with complicated answers:
– Do the people I love have enough money to do what they want/need to do this month?
– When’s the next opportunity for me to have some kind of sex?
– What’s the meaning of it all? (And what do my answers to THAT question imply in terms of me doing something or changing something or…)
Cis and trans guys, what am I missing! (I mean, mentally…)
Thomas, I have always found the topic of sexuality and attraction interesting, as most of us don’t think about it. We are complex creatures, and surely we are more than just a bunch of parts (interchangeable, or fixed). I worked in nursing homes for 9 years, where people no longer had the beauty or potency of youth, and yet they fell in love, sought physical intimacy together, shared in all the emotional dramas and celebrations the same as anyone else. Your blog explores the question of sexual identity and cultural responses — something we have barely begun to have a conversation about in America. Best of luck to you, and thank you for your courage and honesty.
Dan, he’s not at a Urinal, he’s sitting down in a stall peeing, and is afraid that will out him as a transsexual because of past experiences, since men that were born men and with the equipment usually pee at the urinal.
You or I don’t ever think about that because we’ve always been and no one has every attacked us for it, he has spent his life being attacked for who he is, he has every reason to be scared.
You’re comparing apples to apples.
When you’re a born a man you never worry about the bathroom, it’s a totally different story when you’re transsexual.
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