Many men are more female than I am. All that is female about me is my bosom, a few more curves and more delicate hands. The skirt is round my waist, not my mind. It is often the case that the sex of the soul does not correspond to that of the body and that is a contradiction which invariably creates dreadful confusion. If, for example, I had not taken this decision, which may seem crazy but is basically sensible, to give up the clothes of a sex which is only mine materially and fortuitously, I should have been miserable.

Mademoiselle de Maupin, Gautier (1835)

Fuck this idea that gender/sexual variety is a modern invention. I’m always astounded by the number of people who haven’t read Mademoiselle de Maupin. If you have any sense in you, please acquire a copy as soon as you possibly can. If I had the money I would buy everyone a copy of their very own, and an enormous hot chocolate to drink as they read it.

Filed under: books/comics, trans ]]> http://cnlester.wordpress.com/2012/02/21/to-the-library/feed/ 4 cnlester http://cnlester.wordpress.com/2012/02/16/put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is/ http://cnlester.wordpress.com/2012/02/16/put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is/#comments Wed, 15 Feb 2012 23:35:41 +0000 cnlester http://cnlester.wordpress.com/?p=896 ]]> Well, this has been an interesting week, to say the least, for trans issues in the mainstream media. Glorious things: Trans Media Watch giving evidence to the Leveson Inquiry, Paris Lees and the (frankly adorable) Livvy James explaining to the BBC why trans people deserve to be treated with respect by the press.

A lot to be excited about. And then The Sunday Times wrote an article about the fact that some trans men can, and do, get pregnant. Guess how well that went down?

I’m not going to link to any article apart from Jane’s Fae excellent response to the bigotry pedalled by The Mail, The Telegraph, The Sun. I was genuinely shocked by the level of vitriol on display – misunderstanding and disagreement I was expecting. Calling trans people “revolting”, “bizarre” and “freakish” – I had actually hoped we’d moved on from the words my childhood bullies had used to describe me. But the pinnacle of the press’s transphobic reaction had to be this – The Sun deciding to hunt down the man in question, and asking their readers to help them. 

Forgive me, is your gorge rising? You might need a moment to rinse your mouth out.

But, in a funny kind of way, that shameful display brings me back to the last bit of good news – the launch of a new magazine by, for and about anyone who might occasionally or permanently shelter under the huge old trans umbrella – and any friends they’d care to bring with them.

I was going to do a straight-up promotional piece for META - after all, not only am I Music Editor, but I’m friends with many other members of the staff. But if I could take my writer’s hat off, and put both my reader’s AND activist’s hats on (it’s the latest trend) – I think this is a bigger issue than just promoting my latest venture, or my friends’ latest venture. It’s bigger, even, than just giving trans readers something of their own, to enjoy, to debate, to pick holes in. Because, to my mind, this is a sign to all the bastards in the mainstream media, the ones making money from humiliating and exploiting trans people – a sign to sit up and take notice. We have voices, talent, intelligence – and we’re using them to celebrate our own community, to tell our own stories, to argue our own issues. We’re taking them on in their own arena – and what a lovely job we’re doing of it. Why should we buy one of their hate-filled rags when we have an alternative?

Like it or not, money talks. And if we can make this magazine a success, well – who knows what good might come of the listening? So, please, buy yourself a copy – ask your friends to do the same. Spread the word – twitter, facebook – stick it on your tumblr – I don’t know, go wild and put it on a T-shirt.

And enjoy.

Well. I’ve had this argument a fair few times with friends, mostly with cis men. They can’t understand why I would be so put out by someone wanting to “help” – it’s lovely when people are helpful, surely? So, an illustration.

I have to schlep a pretty heavy electronic piano to and from most of my gigs. It’s awkward and annoying and you can’t carry it for long distances, but it’s my instrument and I’m used to it. I’m also used to helping with harpsichord transport for classical concerts – much heavier and far, far more expensive and  delicate. Concert situations, so I’m usually looking (if I say so myself) pretty damn attractive. As such, I’ve had cis men falling over themselves to try to carry my instruments for me, proving how very strong and macho they are in the process. Some have literally pushed me out of a holding position so that they can replace me. Never a question of what they could honestly do to help (open doors, assist with awkward angles, clear people out of the way) but tonnes of “compliments” along the lines of “bit heavy for a pretty little thing like you” – as I may have said before, I’m average height for a man, weigh 11 stone and lift weights for fun. Many a time the man in question has struggled under the weight of said instrument and nearly dropped it – thanks guys, really.

I had an amazing gig in Edinburgh this weekend with Cachin Cachan Cachunga - I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I was also as sick as a dog and as weak as kitten (not choosing, as usual). I was desperate for some help – but, sadly, I was looking less than my best. Deathly pale and glassy-eyed and not my usual charming self. So, did any “chivalrous” cis men step up to offer their services? Of course not. Why would they? There was nothing in it for them.*

Just a brief example. I could give you so many more – as I’m sure could anyone else the world has ever read as female. But I’m just so desperate to call a moratorium on this kind of behaviour. I would consider myself a chivalrous person – because I was brought up to be kind and helpful and think of others. Not because I’m trying to prove my masculinity by infantilising and irritating “women” I find attractive.

And as a final point – never touch a musician’s instrument without asking first. It’s beyond rude.

* Obviously, the folks at the gigs were tremendous – and helpful. Thank you!

I’m playing Southwark LGBT Network’s History Month social at the very lovely Woolfson and Tay bookshop. Free entry, fabulous people, supporting independent booksellers – and you can curl up with a slice of something comforting and a mug of something caffeinated and let me sing you into a refined kind of submission. How many good excuses do you need?

12 Bermondsey Square, London, SE1 3UN

7pm – 9pm

Tempted? Digital copies via iTunes – or email me at info@cnlester.com for an old-fashioned, comforting, physical CD.

…or “The terror of eschewing Photoshop”.

I often feel like I’ve failed, somewhat, at being convincingly male because of just how hard I’ve found it to throw off expectations of idealised “feminine” beauty. Luscious hair. Pouting lips. Perfect skin. All the time – no exceptions, no flaws, no excuses. Despite knowing it for the bigoted bullshit it is. Despite not wanting to look typically female. It goes very deep. And it’s something I’ve been wrestling with since the photoshoot for Ashes and the gradual publication of the pictures (and very beautiful pictures they are too – all thanks to Robin Conway). Because we didn’t use Photoshop. I couldn’t, in good conscience, have asked Robin to use Photoshop. But seeing a real, lived-in face, rather than some smoothed-over approximation of humanity – and realising that other people are going to see it too – it’s frightened me more than I’d care to admit.

After several months of getting used to it, I would probably say that this is one of the best photos I have of myself. It’s just – right. And the first time I saw it the only thing I could think was: “Dear god! The acne scars! Dark circles! Incipient wrinkles! I can’t put this on an album – no one will listen if they see this face!” The sheer ludicrous sense that, on an album where I pretty much vomited up my guts for the world to see, the packaging on the outside should still be polished to the uniform blandness of what passes for attractive in the parlance of mainstream marketing.

I don’t have a particularly deep point to make with this post. Just to say that, well – it brought home to me just how much work we have to do to fight against a beauty myth that makes us feel so ugly. That I never want my future children to look at a picture of themselves and judge it, harshly, in comparison to a computer generated image of what a human being “should” look like. That people you might not expect to see themselves as ugly might well do, at least some of the time. And that I’m trying.

Ah, and a continuation. Thank you to everyone who emailed/commented/messaged – that and some sleep has helped to clarify what I wanted to say. Which is this – ahem:

It makes me angry beyond belief the ways in which kyriarchal “beauty” standards are pounded into our heads so hard that they begin to form barriers between ourselves and what we actually find beautiful. I think I had assumed that I’d left them behind a long time ago – because of what I find beautiful in other people, because of the art that I adore, because of the way I experience the world. And then I look at a picture of myself and all the things I thought I’d unlearnt come crashing back. That I can’t extend the same courtesy to myself as I would to a stranger – that of looking at them as a whole and unique person, not as a (failed) embodiment of some form of fixed and “ideal” beauty.

If this were a picture of someone else I wouldn’t have hesitated to call it beautiful, for precisely the reasons commentators have flagged up – because it’s honest, and vulnerable, and strong, and real. But (and maybe I’m stretching a point here) – I often feel that, in so many areas of what we might call progressive politics or ideologies, we leave ourselves last. We retain that distorting lens of what we’ve been taught, not what we actually think. So – we celebrate a diverse range of body shapes, but tell ourselves we’re too fat to be attractive. We think gender fabulousness is a great thing – and then worry we’re too different to be accepted. We know that kyriarchal lies are, well, lies…and then listen to them, echoing around us, making us feel ashamed/unworthy/less than.

I’m so very, very fucking sick of it. So, as a step in the right direction – here is a list of things that, apparently, aren’t beautiful – which I think are. Not as abstract objects divorced from the humanity of the actual human bodies they’re part of – but because they embody our humanity. Some of these things are part of me, and some of them aren’t – but an enormous “bugger off” to anyone who thinks they need “fixing”:

• rolls of fat
• ribs that you can count
• cellulite
• body hair
• wonky teeth
• acne scars
• scars in general
• wrinkles
• broken noses
• nipples that are “too big” or “too small” or asymmetrical
• bellies
• genitals that don’t look like the ones you’re taught to think of as “normal”
• Moobs

So, obviously, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Please add your own in the comments. And now I’m going to have a cup of coffee, look in the mirror and tell myself that I’m fine the way I am. If I say it often enough I might just start to believe it.

Travel out with me

A long, hard time

We could stay right here,

We could do it all tonight.

I see you through your smile - 

You slow me down to say:

“Weigh yourself down,

Dissolve away.”

Boundaries are simple

To slip through, this time.

Loneliness is welcome - 

I welcome it as mine.

A silence stilled my eyes,

A hollow falling near,

A tremor sounded out 

That no one’s here.

I’ve seen this once before - 

A fever made it clear.

A sweat can weigh you down - 

A dream can bring you near.

And stopper up my mouth

With everything to say:

“Speed time down - 

Dissolve away.”

Digital copies of Ashes will be available on iTunes and Amazon, and real, solid, old-fashioned CDs through my website or from my own fair hand after a show.

And if you want to go the extra mile – please consider yourself cordially invited to the launch party.

Friday January 27th 2012

Doors 7:30pm

Lumen Church, London

WC1H 1HD

£8/£5, tickets available on the door

This will be the third time I’ve performed at the Lumen – I think it’s my soulmate, in terms of venues. A lovely grand piano, candlelight, fully accessible and a beautiful acoustic – and a champagne reception afterwards. With cake. Obviously.

Space is limited, so if you can make it please send me an email at info@cnlester.com to reserve your place. If you feel like reviewing, again, please email and we can sort something out.

Can’t wait to see you there. And, while you’re waiting – check out what the amazing Marci made! I doff my hat to you all.

Seriously, to everyone who performed and everyone who attended – thank you. Most of us aren’t able to give as much as we’d like to charity  so I’m not going to lie – ganging together to be able to give that amount felt really, REALLY good. But what also felt good was spending an evening with so many fabulous, supportive, interesting people – both as an artist and as an audience member. Hat very much doffed to Hel Gurney, Jesse Kailen, Lyman Gamberton and Angelica Riotstar – tremendous, as I knew they would be.

Obviously, not everything was perfect. After their abysmal attempt to be accessible I won’t be using The Good Ship again. If anyone knows a good accessible venue in London then drop me a line and let me know (info@cnlester.com). If you have any suggestions in general then, again, drop me a line.

So – next time. Sometime in March, I think. When spring is in the air. PACE has been nominated for the charity of choice, which sounds good to me. And I have a whole bunch of talented performers ready to delight you.

On that note – thank you again. Christmas is a crummy time of year, but this made it really special for me.  I can’t wait for the next one.

And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!