Book Review: Some Strange Music Draws Me In by Griffin Hansbury

First of all, the title got me as I’ve been a fan of the U2 cover of this song since I fist heard it. Since reading this book, the song has been on repeat in my head. But onto the actual book:

Some Strange Music Draws Me In is now added to my personal queer essential books list which includes Stone Butch Blues and My Government Means to Kill Me.

This book was written by a trans person, for trans people. It means a lot. It was great. It was also tough. So much of it resonated with me in ways that very few other books have. It was stunning – pleasing and uncomfortable – to be so fully represented in a book as an older transmasculine person.

The narrative switches between 1984 and 2019. In 1984 the protagonist was 13 going on 14 and pre-transition. In 2019, he has fully transitioned and lives and works as a man. This is a coming-of-age in many ways. It is not a transition timeline, and I appreciate that. It’s more of a reflection on youth and changing times. Nostalgic, despite blatant bigotry and hardship. 

In 1984, Mel meets a trans woman and is drawn to her as a familiar other. Though Mel doesn’t know that he’s trans, he immediately knows that he is similar to Sylvia. Sylvia also sees this and befriends Mel, helping him to understand that there is more than what he’s been shown. There are more people that feel this way. Mel lives in a small town filled with people who have a limited and limiting mindset about everything other. It’s not a fun place to find oneself when one is part of the other.

In 2019, Max struggles with feeling left behind in the trans movement. He’s rooted to his own experience of transition in the ‘90’s and is not as up to date on the terminology of the present. He also feels erased as a binary trans person. He’s affirmed in his man-ness, but often not in his trans-ness. Because he is both. Yes trans men are men. But we’re also different and that counts for something. Max revels that the youth do not have to suffer as much as he did, but he’s also angry that they don’t acknowledge the struggles he had to go through.

Though the protagonist is 15 years older than me, I too, struggled with lack of representation for what I felt growing up. I had no language for it. Even as I first began to transition, most of the representation I saw was of transfeminine people. There were a couple trans men, but the general public didn’t even know we existed. Despite the lack of public representation, trans people have always existed. Even when it was incredibly hard to do so.

I am so happy that young people these days have access to the vastness of the internet and media that now shows some positive representation. I’m also pretty jealous. And, like Max, I occasionally feel that the experiences of older tans people are not well acknowledged, or are occasionally considered problematic and written off.

The book ends on a positive note, no killing the queers in this one! However, another character does die tragically, and that hit close to home for me. I was able to escape my upbringing and move on to new and better things, but some people get left behind and cannot make it out.

 

 

Some notable quotes:

“…the mystery of knowing, how we can know a thing without thinking it, and how unthought knowledge leaves traces, fragments of the truth before it’s fully born.”

“How does the expanse of gender lead us right back to the binary?”

“…stunned and delighted, the way I am whenever I find other trans people simply existing…”

“People don’t say this often, but queerness can save your life. It forces you outside, where you have no choice but to find other resources.”

“Mostly I envied them the freedom they enjoyed. They didn’t have to worry about the things I worried about… Love and sex could be fun and open. The cops might hassle them, shine a flashlight and tell them to get moving, but they’d never be arrested for what they did or who they were. They’d never be publicly shamed… They had something I could not access.”

 

Some Sad Day Thoughts

I am just sad.

It's not a usual emotion for me. I am generally quite optimistic, if apathetic. But not today.

The inevitability of Trump's nomination was something I was preparing myself for, but I wasn't ready. And it really just scares me. I refuse to think about what will happen come November. Regardless of whether or not he wins, his followers remain.

Besides that, I daftly decided to read the blog of one of my favorite authors -- Orson Scott Card. Now, I've known for some time that, though I adore (most of) his books, I don't agree with him politically. Basically, I should have stayed away. He is Mormon and lives in North Carolina. He doesn't actually agree with the bill, but he is none too friendly toward liberals and those in the LGBT community. It just makes me sad.

And then I read an article about my alma mater, Colorado Christian University. A law was passed some years ago requiring universities to accommodate transgender people according to their preference. CCU has requested to be exempt. And I get it. It's a Christian school. But it does receive some government funding. And it is the name on my diploma. Some students (trans, gay, atheist etc) don't have the option of not attending CCU. Sometimes it's not up to them. Parents often make the decision, hoping perhaps to sway the student, or because they are oblivious. I was one of those. Or became one after a couple years in school. Now, I do not hate CCU, or resent my time there. I met many of my current good friends during those four years. I had great professors and a good education (if a bit lacking in some areas.) It's just that rules like this are what make the suicide rates among young trans (and other queer) people rise. It is this sort of misunderstanding. This sort of "morality". This sort of dehumanization. Because that is what it is: dehumanizing. For a group of people (Christians) claiming to be full of love and forgiveness, they seem to often fall short of recognizing that other people exist.

I do exist. I attended CCU before I came out to even myself as anything other than a straight female. Yet I exclusively wore clothing purchased from the men's section. I kept my hair short. I was into adventure and video games and some other "male" things instead of "female" things. (Those are in quotes because I don't believe that interests are gendered.) However, according to the lifestyle expectations at CCU, "members of the CCU community are expected to refrain from engaging in, advocating, teaching, supporting, encouraging, defending, or excusing homosexuality, transvestitism, transvestite behavior, transgenderism and transgender behavior. (The link is for employees, but I assure you there is a similar covenant for students.) Technically, I fell under that, and have for at least 20 years of my life. But transmasculine people are often overlooked. I was not a guy in a dress, so I guess it was fine.

I am considering writing a letter to CCU as an alumnus (not alumna!), telling them a bit about myself. I doubt it would get anywhere, but perhaps it would make me feel better. I think I'll start by requesting my name be changed on my transcripts.

So today I feel the effects of oppression, though not first hand. I have never felt threatened or in any way unsafe due to my gender or sexuality. I have felt bad about myself, unsure at times, but I have never seriously contemplated suicide or serious self-harm. But I am rare among my peers (trans people have around a 50% rate of suicide attempts.) For that I am thankful, but I am one among many. And we are people. When this bill was enacted in North Carolina, the suicide hotlines blew up. People are despairing.

When I was first coming out it was difficult to find resources. It was difficult to be recognized. I was off the radar. Now trans people are in the media. And representation is fantastic, but it's drawing a lot of hate toward us. First we didn't exist, now we are actively hated. It hurts.

I am human. Please see that. We are human. We deserve at least a modicum of respect. We deserve access to healthcare, public restrooms, public spaces in general, religious universities, secular universities, jobs, houses, on and on and on.

Just like everyone else.

Win some, Lose some.

While I am happy that DOMA is now defunct, I must say that marriage is not and has never been my schtick. It's nice to see some equality happen, but it's only the bare minimum.

The same day that the Supreme Court ruled on DOMA they also struck down part of the voting rights law. This is the one that came about through the civil right movement. You know, the one that allowed people of color equal voting rights. The changes don't make it legal to discriminate or limit anyone from voting, but some of the protections are now gone.

Okay, that's a bit of a sidetrack, but still important. What I really want to say is while marriage is not my fight, trans issues are. Not in a militant way, but they are simply more important to me and should not be left out of equality discussions. 

On his show, Colbert brought up that with all of this recent coverage of LGBT rights etc, people are starting to wonder what the last two letters mean. Specifically the T. Sure, people know what it stands for, but not what it means. Even LGB people often don't think the T should be a part of the movement. 

I don't like to play the victim card, because I don't see myself as a victim. However, I do know that many- if not most- trans people are victims. Victims of hate, physical violence, sexual violence, self-hate and all forms of discrimination. And yet there are very few actual laws protecting trans people. In fact, in the UK it's a criminal offense to be a trans person and have sex without disclosing one's status. This is horrendous and unsafe. There are numerous cases of physical violence going unpunished because of the "gay defense." Basically, turning homophobia and transphobia into self-defense. And the opposite. A trans woman defended herself from physical racial and transphobic violence and ended up in prison for murder. A male prison I might add.

These are things that not everyone hears about. These are inhumanities happening right under out noses. And while I'm not generally outspoken about all of this, I think I need to be; more people need to be.

So while I celebrate a bit of a victory for the LGBT community regarding federally recognized marriages, my heart still aches for those who are fired, beaten, killed, homeless, hungry, unemployed and suicidal due to their gender identities.

(If you want sources for any of the things I've mentioned, just ask.