Boy, Interrupted

For days, sometimes weeks at a time, I bask in a cozy headspace where I don’t think about my gender and, more important, no one points it out to me. When the reverie is broken, it is almost invariably by a stranger. It can happen wordlessly, as in a women’s restroom, where I sometimes catch a fellow patron’s gaze tracking from my face to my breasts and back again, her attitude one of idle curiosity or confusion, occasionally disgust or hostility.

It can happen indirectly, as when I was once within earshot of a (gay) man who, indicating me, hissed, “What is that supposed to be?” He happened to be speaking to a friend of mine, who heroically replied, “She’s whatever you need her to be.”

It can happen more directly, as when a clerk quite innocently calls me sir, then, noting his gaffe, showers me in pardons and sorrys, not realizing that his apologies make me far more uncomfortable than any mistaken appellation. Confusion I can take, even hostility, but I resent this notion that how others perceive my gender should -- or does -- matter to me.

Why are we so hysterical about this social construct called gender anyway?

Merriam-Webster defines the concept as “the behavioral, cultural, or psychological traits typically associated with one sex.” Which is a little limiting, don’t you think, considering that there are just the two sexes to choose from? And considering that those two options are in turn not widely accepted as optional at all -- unless you happen to have been born intersexed.

Actually, scratch that; intersexuals aren’t given any more slack than the rest of us. Longstanding protocols call for the immediate disambiguation of gender obscurity from the moment of birth. The September 2006 “Consensus Statement on the Management of Intersex Disorders” asserts, “Initial gender uncertainty is unsettling and stressful for families. Expediting a thorough assessment and decision is required.” And so it is that, taking into account a newborn’s genes, hormones, genitalia, potential for fertility, and family’s wishes, doctors make their best guess as to whether the little XXXY will want to live his or her adult life as a man or a woman.

Given the fail rate of explicitly male or female plumbing in predicting whether a child will want to live his or her adult life as a man or a woman, doesn’t it seem a bit reckless to trust the informed guesses of doctors when biology has itself abstained?