Monika: We all pay the highest price for the fulfillment of our dreams to be ourselves. As a result, we lose our families, friends, jobs, and social positions. Did you pay such a high price as well? What was the hardest thing about your coming out?
Cameron: So far, I’ve been extremely lucky. I have yet to face any clear transphobia from strangers, or from the people in my life. I can only hope this lasts beyond quarantine.
At first, I was terrified to talk seriously with my parents and Brandon about reconsidering my gender, even though I knew them to be left-wing, wonderfully open-hearted people. I felt like there was a 0.000001% chance that I had misjudged my favorite human beings, all my life, and that they might suddenly reveal a hidden transphobic side I’d never noticed. That tiny probability loomed enormous in my mind; a dark, unknown abyss between “before” and “after.”
Once I broached the subject with them and knew I hadn’t lost them, I could breathe again. My extended family and friends reacted just as warmly when I came out over Facebook, half a year later. Not only everyone I’d met from New York or Los Angeles, but everyone from Caro, the small Michigan town where I grew up; the kind of place which a lot of people would, mistakenly, write off as a bastion of bigotry.
I hope that’s a sign of big-picture progress when it comes to our status in society. But I know my experience is far from the norm. I wish this world existed for all queer people.
"The broader threats to trans people, which had always merely saddened me as an “ally,” became so much harder to process when I became a potential target." |
Monika: And the hardest thing?
Cameron: For me, the hardest part of coming out has been fear. The broader threats to trans people, which had always merely saddened me as an “ally,” became so much harder to process when I became a potential target. I’ve lost many hours of sleep to the US government’s efforts to restrict my rights, and their threats to do a lot worse. And in day-to-day life, I’ve had to adjust the expectations of personal safety that I had always taken for granted. I used to walk confidently through city streets at night; now, even though I only live half a block away from Brandon’s apartment, I usually ask him to escort me home if the sun has gone down. Although this is far less than many trans people have suffered, it is still a higher price than we should have to pay. I look forward to the day when coming out carries no expectation of “cost” whatsoever.
Monika: Are you satisfied with the effects of the hormone treatment?
Cameron: Most of the time, yes. I tried to keep my expectations low at the beginning and did my research to know what HRT might change, and what it couldn’t. Over the last 18 months, the individual changes I’ve experienced – to my body, my senses, my sexuality, my emotions – have been small; but to my eyes, they’ve really added up. Whenever I take a moment to see how I’ve changed, I almost always see Boy Cameron in my old photos and Girl Cameron in the new ones.
Sometimes I wish the changes would speed up a bit, or that I could know whether or not there’s more change on the horizon. In those moments, I try to shift my thinking to a place of humility, awe, and gratitude that this medical sorcery exists for us in the first place.
There are certain attributes of mine that HRT hasn’t changed at all, which still read as masculine; the broadness of my shoulders, the shape of my nose. But, as I try to remind myself on dysphoric days, I often find those traits attractive in other women – cis and trans alike. So why should I resent them in myself?
Monika: We are said to be prisoners of passing or non-passing syndrome. Although cosmetic surgeries help to overcome it, we will always be judged accordingly. How can we cope with this?
Cameron: It’s a hard topic to talk about, let alone reckon with! On a broad scale, it’s awful how trans people are expected and pressured, to “pass,” for the sake of cis people’s comfort. For many trans people, passing is not really an option. For others, it’s not even an aspiration.
But the topic can take such a different form when applied to one’s personal desires. For my part – as someone who still hears “sir” from strangers, most of the time – passing for cis is a strongly felt, personal ambition of mine. And sometimes I have to sit and ask myself why that is. Is it because I want to be safer in a dangerous world? Is it because of the social pressure that cis society places on me? Or is it just as intrinsic, just as central and ineffable a desire, as every other motivation I had for transitioning in the first place? Sometimes I have to circle “all of the above” just so I can move on with my day. Maybe all those factors could never be untangled completely, any more than our transness itself could be quantified.
"I came out to my loved ones in many tentative stages, including a period of identifying as a non-binary man, and I had all those conversations with Brandon before anyone else." |
For myself, I try to frame cis-passing as a “soft goal.” A motivation to train my voice here and there, maybe to seek cosmetic surgery or two some day (I wouldn’t miss my Adam’s apple), but not something I should hinge my happiness upon, or harangue myself for falling short of - or, conversely, for wanting in the first place. And certainly not some inherent requirement that should define all trans people.
Monika: Are there any transgender role models that you follow or followed?
Cameron: As a trans filmmaker who works in a fantastical space, and as half of a sibling filmmaker duo, I certainly look up to Lana and Lilly Wachowski. The Matrix expanded my childhood notion of what was possible in movies. Speed Racer and Cloud Atlas moved me more than I can express. To see two trans women create these unique, open-hearted works on such a large scale, helped me believe that I could pursue my dream career and be a trans woman. That I wouldn’t have to sacrifice one for the other.
In the couple of years leading up to my transition, I was also inspired by author Daniel Lavery, having followed his insightful and hilarious work since he ran The Toast with Nicole Cliffe. He started to speak publicly about his transition in 2018, while my egg was still cracking, and he described the experience with such clarity and eloquence. Up to that point, I had struggled to find echoes of myself in the stories of transition I had read, and I had feared that transition would condemn me to a miserable life. When Daniel Lavery wrote about looking forward to transition with excitement and curiosity, I felt I’d been granted permission to do the same.
Monika: What do you think about the present situation of transgender women in your country?
Cameron: We’ve become far more visible here, over the last few years, which has benefits and drawbacks alike. That visibility makes it easier for us to find ourselves, and each other, and it motivates our cis allies to fight for our needs. However, it also makes us a clear target for our country’s hateful conservative movement.
This sounds a little naïve, even as I type it, but I’m hoping that Trump’s defeat marks something of a turning point for the lives, rights, and dignity of trans Americans. We’ve had a viciously transphobic head of state for as long as I’ve known I was a woman. I’m still adjusting to this new, better reality, where the president is, at the very least, invested in the appearance of fighting for us.
That’s not to say I expect wine and roses from Joe Biden. He doesn’t seem interested in the economic justice that would keep us healthy and housed, and Kamala Harris has a history of transphobic carceral policy. I expect that the whole party will have to be pushed, hard, into making the changes we need, especially in the wake of the pandemic. It’s up to us, and our allies, to apply that pressure, and continue the work of the queer activists who came before us.
Monika: Do you like fashion? What kind of outfits do you usually wear? Any special fashion designs, colors, or trends?
Cameron: It’s been interesting to notice how my preferred “look” has changed through transition (beyond the expected, precisely-gendered ways). Back in my man days, I felt pretty indifferent toward my body and appearance. I stuck to T-shirts and occasional button-downs throughout my 20s, and gravitated toward gentle, blending-in colors like soft blues, greens, and browns.
As soon as I started my transition, I shifted toward garments that made me feel sexy and powerful, with bolder shades like red, black, and gold, and accessories I’d never worn before like necklaces and earrings. I’ve joked that if my transition were depicted in a movie, it would be a supervillain’s origin story.
I think, at the start of transition, I was wary that I might lose my already-flimsy self-confidence, once society started to treat me as a woman. I think I wanted to head that off, right out the gate, by dressing with a kind of loud certainty, and I’ve stuck with it since.
I should note that, early in this process, I became totally overwhelmed by shopping for clothes myself. For any newly-out trans person facing the same obstacle, I highly recommend signing up for a clothing subscription box.
Monika: Are you involved in the life of the local LGBTQ community?
Cameron: Not nearly enough, unfortunately. I wasn’t in Los Angeles for very long before the pandemic hit. I hope to fix that once we’re all good and vaccinated, and once the community spread is down.
Monika: Could you tell me about the importance of love in your life?
Cameron: The love between me and my family has been keeping my head above water. Last spring, Brandon arranged a weekly Dungeons & Dragons campaign for all of us, and we’ve held a virtual session every Sunday for thirty-six weeks. Spending that regular time with them, supporting one another through this hard and scary year, brings me so much of the joy and inspiration I need to keep creating – and, more crucially, to keep living.
As for romantic love, I haven’t felt it in almost a decade. Dating hasn’t been a priority of mine for a long while. However, the combination of transition and quarantine has made me very interested to start dating as a lesbian, once it’s safe. Like many closeted trans women, I wasn’t terrific at being a boyfriend. I would love to try being someone’s girlfriend instead.
I’m also working hard on self-love these days. I am, after all, the only person who’s going to be there for every second of my life. Loving myself can be very hard, especially after growing up with autism and a lifetime of “correcting” my own nature. But I’m gradually learning the mental cheat codes to pull it off.
Monika: Many transgender ladies write their memoirs. Have you ever thought about writing such a book yourself?
Cameron: I’ve certainly pictured it, but I think I’ll have to spend some time living a more interesting life first. I’d love to have a few truly notable productions to write about, in addition to my insights on transition.
"Try one step at a time, note how it makes you feel, and treat it as a process of exploration, where the possibilities are expanding, not contracting." |
Monika: What is your next step in the present time and where do you see yourself within the next 5-7 years?
Cameron: I plan to keep building a writing portfolio with Brandon for as long as we need to stay quarantined. Hopefully, we can land some paid writing work before too long.
In 5-7 years, I hope I’m making a stable living doing what I love. I hope I’m writing and directing shows and films that connect with viewers across the world, giving them something new and powerful to imagine. And I hope, by that time, I’m succeeding enough to help inspire the next generation of trans filmmakers.
Monika: What would you recommend to all transgender women that are afraid of transition?
Cameron: For my part, I was terrified of transition back when I saw it as an all-at-once, before-and-after, “take the plunge” decision that would change my entire life, suddenly and forever. It became so much easier when, with my therapist’s help, I started to view it as an accumulation of smaller decisions, most of which were very low-stakes on their own.
You can try on a new kind of clothing, then decide you’d rather not try it again. You can see a doctor about hormone therapy, and no one’s going to force you to schedule a second appointment. You can even start taking hormone therapy, then stop taking the pills long before any permanent changes happen. Very few of these decisions are binding in any way. You don’t have to live in terror of trapping yourself.
Try one step at a time, note how it makes you feel, and treat it as a process of exploration, where the possibilities are expanding, not contracting. I can’t promise every part of it will turn out well; your experience may be worlds away from mine. But with each step, you may find that the next one is a little easier. You may even find that the rewards begin to outweigh the fear.
Monika: Cameron, it was a pleasure to interview you. Thanks a lot!
Cameron: Thank you for the opportunity! It’s been an honor. I love this project, and I wish you all the best with future interviews.
END OF PART 2
All the photos: courtesy of Cameron Laventure.
© 2021 - Monika Kowalska
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