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COOKIES & PRIVACY POLICY

The Cotton Ceiling: trans sexual politics

What is the cotton ceiling and how does it affect trans women in the lesbian and bi community?

Stephanie Davies

Tue, 18 Sep 2012 14:55:56 GMT | Updated today

The categories defined by the acronym 'LGBT' are often seen as mutually exclusive states of being. One can either be lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender/transsexual - there is no overlap.

 

This false assumption is perpetuated by contemporary cinema, where trans protagonists - which are rare enough - are constantly paired with a member of the 'opposite' gender. Just think of 'Boys Don't Cry', or 'Breakfast on Pluto'.

 

When is the last time you saw a sensitive, nuanced portrayal of a trans person and their partner of the same gender? 'The L Word' took a step towards such a relationship in its decision to pair up the characters of Max and Tom. However, Max's sensationalistic pregnancy storyline negated any claims that this was a fair attempt at queer trans-inclusivity on television.

 

What do these invisible relationships mean for trans people and their prospective partners in reality? The 'cotton ceiling' is a theory that some members of the trans community have put forward to explain their unique position. According to an anonymous blogger, the cotton ceiling theory works to explain the experiences that queer trans women have with "simultaneous social inclusion and sexual exclusion" within female spaces.

 

In a nutshell, cis women (women whose gender identity corresponds with the sex they were assigned at birth) may be vocal allies of the trans community but they still hesitate to consider trans women as viable sexual and romantic partners.

 

Let's be clear here: 'cotton' refers to underwear. It's definitely not a perfect metaphor, but there is no denying the fact that lesbian and bisexual cis women can be reluctant to enter into a physical or even romantic relationship with trans women. The belief that trans women are not 'real women', and hence not desirable, is hurtful and damaging - but so is policing who and what people are attracted to, some may argue. It's a tricky subject and one that doesn't look like it will be resolved any time soon.

 

While it can be frustrating and hurtful for trans women to be rejected in this way, the concept of trans women in female-centric spaces has always been a volatile one. London's annual Reclaim the Night march has repeated come under heat for its failure to include trans women and many women are quick to turn a beady eye to someone they perceive as being the 'wrong build' for the ladies' loos.

 

I ask Eden from London if she ever experiences a backlash from the queer community due to her status as a transgendered woman. "Like trying to figure out the whole lesbian dynamic?" she asks. "Or perhaps not even being able to look someone in the face because I can feel the years of trying to live as a man kick me in the backside, just in case I forget to be crushed under my own guilt and feelings of being a fraud when in a female space?" Her tendency towards self-preserving behaviour and her crippling shyness around other women doesn't help matters. "I wonder how I ever managed to have any partners at all," she says.

 

Trans women do not have an easy time of it, generally speaking. They are murdered at an alarming rate, particularly transgender women of colour, with little or no media coverage. Many of feminism's greatest figureheads have notoriously anti-trans stances. Germaine Greer has been quoted saying that trans individuals are "delusional" . Lesbian and bisexual feminists are not immune to expressing their own transphobia either. Julie Burchill, journalist and author of 'Sugar Rush', once deemed transsexualism "just another excuse for men to do as they please".

 

One of the major manifestations of the cotton ceiling in our culture, according to blogger Roz Kaveney, is "the assumption that to be attracted to someone trans throws your own sexual identity into question - that a lesbian who fancies a trans woman has somehow gone straight." It's a troubling thought, and one which betrays an inherent biphobia.

  

But Eden doesn't think it's all that bad. For her, the lesbian and bisexual community allows her the type of freedom that the hetero world never did. "Dating is pretty cool," she says. "I suppose dating queer and gay women is just for me not as contrived. Whenever I'd go on a date pre-treatment I always had to wear a man ID instead of just being me, and that in itself is tiresome."

 

Of the women that Eden does date, some end up staying the night and some don't. "That's just the way things go." As far as long-term relationships go, she's not about to rush into anything. "Granted, there are some women who just don't like me or who or what I am," she continues. "But there are a lot more women who aren't really bothered about it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo credit: Kenji-Baptiste Oikawa

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  • Renée Mineart - Thu, 20 Sep 2012 19:06:07 GMT -

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    A great article, thanks for publishing it. Also, it is sadly a true article (at least in my experience). As a post-op trans woman, I once had a long discussion with a lesbian who firmly believed I was in the wrong to call myself as a lesbian (or even bi for that matter). She didn't have a word I could use to describe myself in its place, but just that I clearly could not be a lesbian because I once resided in a man's body. I was... something else. I am slightly bi, and what annoys me to no end about men, is that many, MANY are happy to be my friend. But suggest taking things further, and NO WAY! That would be too much like being with another man. I see this as being the same with some lesbians, although less so than with men. Here is my argument. I was once a child. But I'm not a child any longer. And thoughts of being with me is OK because I'm not a child. I once had an outward shell of a man's body. I'm not a man anymore, and would argue I NEVER was. I have ALWAYS been a lesbian, just for awhile it looked like I was straight. But yet, because I used to have a man's body, people can't see past that and realise that I AM a woman. And a gay woman to boot. All my life I dreampt of having genitals I could be happy with. It never occoured to me that other's would be so unwilling to share in my happines. Renée