There’s a new article out from Smithsonian.com titled “How Transgender Women Are Training Their Voices to Sound More Feminine.” Sounds fine. I did voice training when I transitioned, and I’m grateful I was able to. That sounds like an article I would happily read. So, here’s the subtitle: “Does striving for some ideal female voice just reinforce stereotypes?” The article below the fold is long, and I hope interesting, but I can sum it up easily.
NO!
I can say that confidently for two reasons. One, the word “just.” And two, the motivation of training.
I did voice training for two reasons, neither of which were to reinforce the controlling bonds of patriarchy.
One, it was my choice. My voice didn’t sound to me like who I was, and it was within my power to change that. Ultimately, anyone should be able to make such a change if they want. I’m not, y’know, stereotypically female? I don’t end every sentence with a question mark? But I went from having only a masculine vocal “toolbox” to choose from to having feminine tools. I still use my masculine tools, especially when I’m doing impressions or reading aloud. But my voice sounds like me in my ears now.
Two, I did it because it simplified my life. No more “Sir, oh, I mean ma’am!” on the phone. Fewer biographical explanations in store checkout lines. Fewer times I must be out. Not to have to be out, not to have to “represent” at all times, is a privilege. I try every day to pay that forward by stepping out, by telling people I’m trans. And I use the surprise to educate people.
Anyone who thinks I’m stereotypically female should come see my DVD collection, or listen to me play a video game, or see all the Lego robots on my desk at work, or watch me leap out of my car when I see someone broken down on the side of the road.
I am me, and my voice is mine. I’m very lucky in that I was encouraged to choose who that would be when I transitioned. I hope some day we’ll have built a world where saying, “Ma’am, actually” at the check-stand will be as little a thing as saying “Aah, paper bags, actually, if you don’t mind,” and met with the same level of “Okay!” But for now, it’s a little lubricant that eases things that OUGHT to be easy.
If you want to change stereotypically feminine speech and dress, start with your own cisgender selves–most of the Ts I know are trying to model on the great women in their own lives when they “grow up,” acting in our second childhoods just like the teenage girls you see every day. We try to fit the same societal standards all women do, and for the same reasons. And we succeed about as well. Too heavy. Too hairy. Too aggressive. Too loud.
It takes effort to be a feminist, to stand against that current, and say “No–I LIKE that I know my way around computers and cars, and despite the fact it raises questions, I will open my mouth and say my piece!” That act, I think, reflects well on women everywhere, no matter their origins.
It takes effort also to say “My voice makes me sad–it reminds me of the lie I’ve practiced telling every day, year after miserable year, that I’m Big Strong Man Who Loves Having a Penis and feels totally at home with himself.” And the act of changing that speaks well of women, too–don’t want to have to talk to strangers? Sit in silence. Want to be loud? Shout yourself hoarse!
Do what it takes to carve out a life YOU can live and find real joy in, and try damn hard to make it a good one.
There are plenty of women out there using their voices to reinforce privilege and hurt other people: white women who talk like they’re from Compton. Women who scold girls for not acting like “little ladies.” Ann Coulter. Focus on them. Change them.
Don’t steal my voice, and please don’t heap even more of a load on women struggling to “pass” just to get or keep a job, stay off the streets, and not get beaten to death. Believe me, they’re usually struggling enough. If you want to help, encourage them, as I was encouraged by my vocal coach, to listen to the range of marvelous female voices out there: high voices, low voices, loud ones, quiet ones, expressive ones, flat ones. Instead of telling them what they can’t do, ask them what they really need, and help them find a voice to be proud of.