Gender bending (Guardian)
Gender bendingThe NHS was never designed to be a sort of state-run Jim’ll Fix It, so I don’t understand why gender should be the one exception Julie Burchill Maybe it says something sad about my life, but the best night out I’ve had so far this year was at the Theatre Royal’s pantomime of Cinderella. How we swooned at the doe-eyed beauty of Julian Clary as Dandini, at the hands-on stroppiness and tiny ankles of Joanne Good’s Fairy Godmother and at the remarkable voice of Dave Benson Phillips, who may have made his name running around like a madman on children’s TV but who actually has a pair of pipes to shame Levi Stubbs. But a special welcome is always reserved for the Ugly Sisters. Ugly Sisters are, of course, always played by men and, though conventional feminism might look at them askance, I find them oddly appealing and sound; the very fact that no woman, however unattractive, is ever thought to be ugly enough to be an Ugly Sister is a testament to the superior beauty of women. In recent years, we have seen the decline of the Principal Boy, traditionally played by an attractive, athletic girl with extremely good gams; how much of this can be put down to a growing awareness of designer dykery, and our inability to see two pretty girls snogging without putting the worst possible interpretation on it? But you never think of sex when you see the Ugly Sisters. The best reason for their continuing existence is that they demonstrate how very stupid men look, in fact, when they dress up as women. In the context of panto, this is perfectly appropriate. But for the rest of them, I see no difference between transvestite entertainers and the late Black and White Minstrels. They’re both extremely offensive, and I don’t understand why one is beyond the pale and the other totally acceptable in enlightened circles. And, yes, I know that they’re not the same, but may I say that I feel even less patience with transsexuals. Male to female transsexuals are Michael Jackson to the transvestites Ali G; not content even to dress up temporarily as the Other, they presume that its authenticity can be theirs through a few cosmetic adjustments. We laugh at people who want to change colour; we are shocked that millions of Japanese women each year have their eyes permanently occidentalised; we ban skin-lightening preparations, and would never dream of letting black people have Jackson-type whitening operations on the NHS. Yet we pay for thousands of men every year to “become” women; around 7,000 at £8,000 a pop, and rising every year. You do the maths. “Oh, but I’m a woman trapped in a man’s body!” So? What about all the white people who feel black, black people who feel white, poor people with rich people’s tastes and short people who are dying to be tall? They’re all welcome to go off and seek to make their dreams a reality, but I don’t see the NHS spending money that could be better spent on hip operations, cancer treatments and simply cleaning up our filthy hospitals. The NHS was never designed to be a sort of state-run Jim’ll Fix It, and I don’t understand why gender must be the one exception. The Daily Mail seems to have a special, not quite wholesome interest in male-to-female transsexuals, featuring at least one a month in extensive Before and After poses, with a headline typically saying something like THE PUBLIC SCHOOL SIR WHO WANTS TO BE A MISS; Nicholas/Nicola the Charterhouse teacher, Ian/Isabelle the Oxford tutor, Bill/Dian the Welsh preacher and Simon/Carol the C of E vicar. Its attitude used to be that these people were dangerous sexual radicals; now, it seeks to portray them as tragic victims. My objection to trannies, though, is that they are woefully conventional souls (typical Mail readers, in fact) who seem unable to exist alongside any sort of ambiguity, which as we all know is one of the things that makes life so interesting. I wouldn’t have the least problem leaving a young girl child in the care of any of them - I’d fear sexual molestation far less than from a “straight” man - but I would be worried that, by the time I came home, the child would be dressed from head to toe in pink and being danced round the room to the saccharine strains of Thank Heaven For Little Girls. It is the literal-mindedness, the clunky logic of transsexuals, that is so appalling (that, and their taste in blouses), not their sexual depravity. They are frilly, docile smilers who always wear make-up and never the trousers. Their idea of womanhood seems to have survived intact from 1953. Despite their sticky lipstick rictuses, they are the ultimate example of a particularly middle-class, middle-aged male arrogance that cannot see why anything it desires shouldn’t be so. Such men invariably report that they were aware of feeling “trapped” in the wrong body since boyhood. Yet, thoughtfully, they go ahead and marry blissfully ignorant women and father children. Then, in middle age, with the kids off their hands, and when their wives are looking forward to kicking back and relaxing à deux, she comes home one day from Marks & Spencer to find hubby prancing about in her second-best Frank Usher frock and committing GBH on her new Carvela kitten heels. These poor stunned women - talk about feeling you’ve been sold a pup! - are then told by the caring professionals and counsellors to accept their husbands as “sisters”. Just switch it for a moment and imagine that thousands of women decided they wanted penises. Would their husbands be expected to stay with them and live as brothers? Somehow, I doubt it. But it seems that whatever men choose to do - be it buy pornography from sweetshops, masturbate at impoverished single mothers on “chatlines”, walk naked in the street (as Vincent Bethell was given the right to do last week) or demand to be called Daphne - must at all costs be normalised, whereas, for women, the rules are all but unshifting. Transsexualism is, basically, just another, more drastic twist on the male menopause, which in turn is just another excuse for men to do as they please. And before the geek chorus - hi fans! - start up, yes, I know I’ve been pretty damned selfish during my long and squalid marital career. The difference is, of course, that I’ve never sought to dress up my own egoism in poor-me-trapped-in-the-wrong-life claptrap, and I’ve certainly never expected the taxpayer to hand over more than £8,000 in order to set me up in a love nest with my new squeeze. No - at the end of the day, changing sex is no more noble than changing your wife for a new woman. Only, this time, the woman is you. Copyright © Guardian Media Group PLC 2001 |
Replies
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Dear WeekendGuardian Saturday January 27, 2001 I particularly enjoyed Dave Eggers’s assault on the over and inappropriate use of the word irony (On Second Thoughts, January 20). Unfortunately, he failed to give an example of its correct usage. Now, isn’t that ironic? Stephen Firn Julie Burchill is, as ever, heavy-handed and lacking in compassion (January 20). But, having had one or two male-to-female transsexuals as friends and longing to be thought of as fair-minded, their apparent narrow, male view of what constitutes femininity bewilders me. I have come to the conclusion that we and they have made a big mistake, and that our descendants will shake their heads in disbelief when they consider that all we had to offer was mutilation. Paul Thompson Perhaps, Julie, the NHS should deal only with broken legs or the odd heart transplant. I write not as a transsexual but as a wife to one. Yes, I have been through all the pain, anger and disgust at being told that my man could no longer be a man. Although we are separated, she is still my best friend. I said ’she’, for that is what she is. Yes, she has put me and others through a fair bit of trauma, but it takes guts to do what she has done - and she is a better person for it. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is real; the NHS does not give out gender reassignment operations like Smarties. I’ve heard that the NHS now helps people with narrow minds. Don’t worry, Julie, the waiting list is only five years. Miss Pat Fraser As a transsexual woman, I felt left out. Julie Burchill had insulted nearly everyone, yet never even sneered in my direction - until last week. Her tirade was a real let-down. The majority of us are not middle-aged, not married and don’t wear silly blouses, and she missed out all the transsexual men (who don’t wear blouses at all). Her entertaining rants are rarely disrupted by facts, so I didn’t expect her to recognise that gender reassignment surgery saves money for the public purse, but I am devastated by her claim that there are 7,000 operations a year, when the real figure is about 100. At her hyperbolic best, she’d have multiplied our numbers by thousands or millions, rather than a measly 70. Instead, we’re stuck being 1 in 10,000 of the population, rare enough still to have some shock value to those like Julie Burchill who’ve apparently never met us. Claire McNab, vice-president, Press For Change If Alexander Chancellor groups single mothers together with drug addicts and criminals (January 20), why does anyone have time to complain about Julie Burchill? Dave Scrubber kyliesaidtojason@excite.co.uk Three pans to make mashed potatoes (Food, January 20)? What planet is Jeremy Lee inhabiting? But then, I have no assistants and save time using a microwave. He should try it some time. Betty Bezant How wonderful that there is wheelchair access at Tabla (Eating Out, January 20). Shame that the toilet is inaccessible. Are able-bodied diners also denied toilet access, or do they possess unusually large bladders? Mrs Dianne Watterton Guardian Weekend, 119 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3ER. Email: weekend@guardian.co.uk. Fax: 020-7239 9935. A postal address must be supplied. Letters should reach us by Tuesday afternoon for inclusion on Saturday, and may be edited. |
