A moving memoir of a remarkable transgender woman’s life, from her childhood in a military family, an architectural career in Africa, a spiritual journey as a Quaker, and her service as a political appointee under President Obama.
SELF-ish is a narrative drawn from an international life, beginning with some early glimpses out at the world by a girl in a boy’s body. Chloe Schwenke was raised as Stephen in a Marine Corps family, and was sent off at age fourteen to “man-up” at a military academy. Later—and still embodied as a man—she ventured abroad to work in some of the roughest regions of Africa, the Gaza Strip, Turkey, and many other locales. Her far-flung global journey was matched in intensity by an inner identity and spiritual struggle and the associated ravages of depression, before she came to the revelation of being a transgender woman. At a time when many Americans are just waking up to the reality of the transgender phenomenon, this portrayal of Chloe’s life, her challenging gender transition, and her many accomplishments and adventures along the way (including being among the first three transgender political appointees in U.S. history, under President Obama), creates a poignant story of authenticity, self-discovery, and the meaning of gender set against a fascinating international backdrop.
I've never been the first reviewer of anything on GR, and it's a little intimidating. Especially since this memoir takes me a little bit away from of my usual reading fare.
One of the reasons I picked up this book (an advance reader's copy) is because I recently started working at an organization that serves those who are disenfranchised by HIV and AIDS, LGBTQ marginalization and gender nonconformity, poverty and homelessness. I now work with several people who identify as transgender, and I have grown, frankly, curious about what it is like to feel that the physiological gender one was born with doesn't match the gender one really is.
Unfortunately, after reading Chloe's account I don't feel I've been enlightened much. I did learn a few things about what it is like to go through the process of transitioning from male-identified to female-identified-things like hair removal, voice lessons, and the like. It made me wonder about the level of privilege that enables one to spend so much time and money on transitioning, and how impossible that would be for many transgender people -- but that wasn't part of her story.
She talks a lot about her relationships - who helped her along the way, how her children responded to her transformation, how important her faith community is to her. I even felt I could relate quite a lot to some of her struggles-such as the difficulty of finding a job as an older woman (I'm not quite there yet, but I am concerned that my marketability is going to wane quickly in my 50's).
But the tale became repetitive. I don't know if it was just a problem with the structure; I think the early chapters strategically contained bits of later chapters in order to frame the story. But then when I came to the later chapters I felt I had already read about those things. The job-hunting saga was continuous and that wasn't very interesting after a while.
I kept waiting for some "aha" moment or revealing chapter where I could really understand what it felt like to be her. But it never happened. I started wishing that she would have included some transcripts from her therapy sessions, instead of just telling me how she went to therapy, and how great and helpful it was. Her former wife was understanding and remains a supportive friend, but that wasn't supported by any personal narrative or conversation to make it real for the reader. To be fair, she does admit that some things about being "embodied differently" are "beyond [her] powers of description."
I appreciated the semi-academic unwrapping of gender theory toward the end of the book, and looking at gender theory and gender roles with an international lens. Overall, Chloe is super thoughtful on every page. That I wanted her story to be more revelatory may reflect me and my expectations more than a shortcoming of the book. And I did find much to think about as she kept focusing on her journey as finding "an authentic way to be present in the world." This is something we all do, or should do-and maybe that was her point, that the journey from one gender to another is not altogether so different from anyone's journey to become their authentic self.
I am listed in the acknowledgments (along with a lot of the rest of my quaker meeting) which was pretty exciting for me!
I have known chloe for years and read her previous book on ethics and international development. she's a great writer; she writes a lot like she speaks.
one of the things that struck me the most, reading this, was chloe pointing out that part of the huge burden of gender dysphoria is that you feel inauthentic in all your relationships when you are presenting as the wrong gender. I never considered that before, maybe it can help cis folks understand why it's such a big deal.
"There is a limit to how many times someone can look in the mirror and see someone else looking back at them." --Chloe Schwenke
Working in international development in Washington, DC, I've heard Chloe speak at numerous events on LGBTQ rights, human dignity, and ethics. And I'm always moved by her nuanced insights, strength of character, and gracious demeanor.
Reading SELF-ish, A Transgender Awakening as her friend, I was further inspired by the journey of her life, her commitment to personal truth, and the powerful self-honesty she shares with all of us.
It's best not to think of SELF-ish as a linear read but as a series of conversations with a friend or mentor. It's a thoughtful and moving memoir of one woman's life. And it's a reflection on the struggle for individual and collective freedoms.
Book review. Self-ish: A Transgender Awakening by Chloe Schwenke. Red Hen Press:Pasadena, 2018.
Chloe Schwenke’s trans memoir is the best example of the genre since Jan Morris’ Conundrum. (Conundrum was published in 1974.) This is the thinking person’s guide to transness.
Schwenke’s memoir is reflective, philosophical, and poignant. It is what one should expect from a sixty-six year old unemployed (fired for being trans) highly educated professional with a wealth of personal and professional experience who has wrestled with an intimate personal and intellectual conundrum for decades.
In the beginning, Schwenke writes about being fired for simply being who she is and about the hurdles trans people face to employment. She writes, “My own fraught experience has taught me that it's hard even to get past the stereotypes to secure an invitation to a job interview" (8). Her chronic unemployment and underemployment is a consistent theme in the text. For instance, "Every one of my many applications for full-time job openings was unsuccessful. . . given my well-developed technical skills and extensive global experience, I should have been a formidable candidate--had I not been transgender" (127).
She is not afraid to address difficult concepts such as: What is self? "'Self' is a contentious concept; it has much to do with psychology, culture, and history as with morality. . . .Must we sacrifice our fundamental identity as a human being, so that others' lives will not be disrupted, harmed, or inconvenienced? Are we morally permitted to be self-ish when our identity is on the line?" Moral permissibility applies not only to our chosen actions and their consequences, but also to our character—who we are (24-7). Schwenke's answer: "We're all reasonably expected to sacrifice some degree of self-interest for the sake of everyone's flourishing, since civilization and progress ultimately are about flourishing harmoniously as human beings together, in society. Reasonable sacrifices are therefore expected, but I'm convinced that we should never sacrifice our authentic identity, which is the root of our humanity" (28).
Schwenke introduces the reader to an original metaphor in reference to the experience of being trans: "Try as I might, I was never able to adjust to the irritation--the tinnitus of the soul--that grew louder and more insistent by the day" (32).
For me, as a professor who taught philosophy, ethics, and literature (and hopes to again), I found her moment of clarity resonates with my own moral sensibilities: "I reflected on the irony that my graduate students viewed me as the professor who was teaching them all about ethics, integrity, and splendid theories of virtue, duty, caring, justice, and flourishing, yet to me my life was utterly devoid of integrity" (33-34).
The poignancy of the text is found in passages such as: "I simply wanted to be Chloe, a women, and not Chloe, a transgender woman . . . safety and security are the most fundamental needs of any person in any situation, and at that time and place I felt neither" (101).
She writes about her Quaker faith and her wonder at why other religious traditions aren’t as supportive: "I struggle to understand how it can be that so many people of differing faith traditions and beliefs choose to remain silent about the plight of transgender persons . . . On a personal level, my Quaker faith has been and continues to be a strong guide to my transition. Being authentic to my discerned gender means listening inwardly for a clear calling to resolve the dissonance, to create wholeness, to be present as myself to my family and my friends, and to open the door to integrity and keep it open" (136).
Schwenke’s philosophical acumen is demonstrated in her refutation of Judith Butler’s errant and harmful definition of gender. Butler explains gender as something that is "produced and performed, or more accurately that is produced through repeated performance. In her view (one most thoughtful transgender persons reject, myself included) gender emerges through a series of 'acts' repeated by a person, and is always subject to further changes. To Butler, gender is conceptualized as repetitive social fictions that are created and built up over time, which in turn are embodied as 'truth' or perceived as 'natural' through the performance of what she termed 'social scripts.' From Butler's perspective, gender is performative but gender doesn't express any inner or subconscious sense of identity which is directly at odds with the sense of identity described by most transgender persons" (151).
Schwenke presents a compelling common sense and experiential refutation of Butler later in the text: "What are my social scripts? Like all persons, transgender or not, I was routinely taught to conform to my assigned gender as normalized in the American society of my time. . . Despite complete social immersion in a gender category, I upset everything by insisting that it simply didn't work for me. I could only have made such a self-ish claim if I possessed a vantage point upon which to stand and push back from. That point of leverage for me, and for my transgender sisters and brothers, is our sense of who we are authentically at our cores. It's a strong if inconvenient rebuttal and not one that Butler and others with similar convictions want to address" (190). Additionally, "My own life similarly offers a rebuttal to the claims of Butler, but also to those who argue that our bodies provide the essential, biological, natural explanation or what constitutes gender. Despite over five decades of repetitive performance of a male script . . . I completely failed to performatively constitute a sustainable male gender. Even with the potent help of male hormones, male chromosomes, and a demonstrably make physical body, my gender dissonance remained and progressively became more unbearable. [Julia] Serano's alternative explanation--that each person possesses a subconscious sex that transgender persons come to discern in ways that cisgender persons cannot—resonates entirely with my lived experience" (191).
Schwenke recounts an important argument she made when advocating for the human and legal rights of transgender people in Maryland: "I asserted that gender identity is fundamental to being human, and that discrimination against us as transgender persons denies our basic human integrity and negatively affects our ability to care for our families. I even quoted from the respected professor of philosophy and African American studies, Anthony Kwame Appiah: 'Our moral modernity consists chiefly of extending the principle of equal respect to those who had previously been outside the compass of sympathy; in that sense, it has consisted in the ability to see similarity where our predecessors saw only difference. The wisdom was hard won; it should not be lightly set aside'" (159). The bill never made it out of committee.
Among the common sense bromides from living sixty-six years she offers are: "To be present in any relationship means first to be present to self; only by being self-ish can durable relationships be forged" (198). And, "Finding acceptance, validation, reciprocity, and a trusting and caring community aren't quests unique to transgender persons. . . Being in community naturally starts with being yourself" (200).
She also writes about some personal and sensitive topics that are of daily concern for many trans people: "Among transgender persons the concept of 'passing' is at best awkward to discuss, and at worst the word expresses an unbecoming surrender of our hard-won authenticity to the often callous knee-jerk judgment of those who police the gender binary. . . We post our 'after' photos on social media, eager for the approving flattery of both actual and virtual friends. Even once such feedback is forthcoming, we wonder if they are simply being kind" (201).
Schwenke’s analysis of popular culture and how it views trans people demands attention and solutions: "Societies--even relatively sophisticated ones like ours--may be fascinated in a voyeuristic sense by people who make that journey, but they generally don't look kindly on us as individuals. . . the intensity and self-righteousness of the angry, viciously graphic, and highly sexualized misogynistic abuse that has largely characterized the hate mail that my propensity for blogging has occasionally elicited speaks to a certain population who aren't likely ever to tolerate the existence of transgender persons. The authors of these hateful messages are real, they are a threat, and they aren't going away. They are also not open to any sort of civil discourse; they prefer to remain steeped in their venom. . . even among the general public attitudes on transgender issues and persons are shaped by extremely negative stereotypes and possibly by a dark inner closet of unresolved issues regarding gender and sexuality. Until those dark places see the sunshine of open and reflective thinking, compassion, and contemplation, the resulting widespread transphobia is sure to remain deeply damaging or even acutely dangerous" (236).
In the conclusion, Schwenke makes an appeal to reader’s humanity: "We are who we say we are, and while it isn't much to ask of others, it is everything to us. I am Chloe. Accept that I am here, female and very human, fierce yet vulnerable, tough yet sensitive, with a heart filled with love and warmth. I am at peace with who I am. I've struggled so hard, for so long, against such outrageous odds, just to be able to write those words. I'm self-ish. I have to be" (242).
SELF-ish: A Transgender Awakeningis an open look at how transitioning from a man to woman affected Chloe Schwenke in all areas of her life.
Schwenke covers a lot of ground in this memoir. She shares her own journey of navigating her identity, of therapy sessions with both helpful and unhelpful therapists. She shares her own questions of what it means to transition to the gender she identifies with and it what it would mean not to. She discusses coming out as transgender to her father, siblings, wife, children, friends, and colleagues, and how it affected those relationships.
As such, the reader gets to see how her family changed with the news. Was it possible to stay married? What is her new parental identity now that she is no longer “father?” Is she “mother” or something else? Does she make that determination or do her children decide?
In the professional realm, we see how Schwenke approached her human resources representative, the email she sent to her colleagues to announce that beginning Monday, Stephen would no longer be showing up and Chloe would be. There were follow-up discussions with colleagues who wanted to learn more, as well as follow-up discussions with management who ultimately fired her. Then the new job search.
Schwenke also explores what it means to be part of the womanhood and her fears of not being accepted. As she develops experiences of being accepted by women, she wonders what it means to be a grown woman who does not have the experience of girlhood.
She also talks about the transition period during which she had not yet undergone surgery, but was presenting herself as a woman. During that time she traveled out of the country with a passport that still listed her gender as male, which caused quite a delay in Turkish customs. Later, she expresses her appreciation of being welcomed to Africa as Chloe after previously working there as Stephen.
There are so many nuanced aspects to the stories of transgender experience, far beyond those that cisgender people might think about. I appreciated so much that this book covered so much and answered questions I didn’t even know to ask.
Readers who love well-told memoir and those who want to gain a deeper understanding of transgender experience — whether cisgender or transgender themselves — will get a lot from this book. It covers everything with the perfect combination of frankness and emotion.
Inspiring. Poignant. Uplifting. Sad. Enlightening. Curious. Upsetting. Overwhelming. These are just some of the emotions I felt on this roller coaster ride through time and gender.
I will say this up front: It's an excellent expression of one person's journey into and through transition. It's also sometimes quite thought-provoking and demands a pause many times to think, feel and absorb what's being said. I found at times I would read an entire section or chapter in one sitting and another time maybe three pages before I felt the need or desire to take what I'd read an let it process.
I know the struggle and pains and surprises and rejections of being a gay male, but few things in my life come close to some of the pain and dismissive attitudes towards and shared by Chloe Schwenke. Every reader should take away one moment at the very least where he/she sees her/himself in a description, a rejection, an invasive question or other mention in the book. I myself found that I understand my father (RIP pop) a little better even.
Read it, but take your time. The story spans many years. Don't try to absorb it all in a couple of hours.
If you want a personal, revealing memoir DO NOT READ THIS. If you want someone giving a monologue about how the world needs to wake up to transgender people and give them the rights of all human beings, then this is the book for you. Two-thirds of the book cannot be called a memoir. The last one-third of the book that IS actually a memoir is vague and vaguer; she doesn't actually give her life story like an actual memoir. It's very annoying overall. In truth, this book should be called SELF-ish: Gender in the modern world (with a side of memoir).
What bugs me more than anything is the author's comment about transgenders in cinema. She makes the statement that transgender people in movies should be played by transgender actors!! Actors ACT--good actors study their character and research. They should be able to give transgender people the respect they deserve, regardless of their own gender!
I was fully engaged in this book. It is helping me understand the difference between gender expression and gender identity in ways In which I didn’t realize I needed awareness. It made me uncomfortable and defensive about my own perspectives at times, a process that I value even if I don’t like it and haven’t fully processed. I gave it 4 stars instead of 5 because the discussions of the continent of Africa felt sensationalized, perhaps on purpose in some places, but in others she showed a lack of knowledge about the role of colonialism in shaping gender norms and binary understandings of gender and gender identity in the African contexts in which she was discussing.
Regardless I highly recommend it, especially for international development professionals.
At the beginning of her memoir, Chloe Schwenke is unemployed, desperate to find work after being fired unexpectedly from a leading human rights organization.
While her bosses didn’t state it outright, Schwenke is sure they let her go because she is a transgender woman.
I have to preface by saying that I am friend of Chloe's but was moved by the level of sharing of the very personal journey that she embarked on before we met. This was a major learning opportunity for me and I highly recommend that all my friends get a copy of this book to read and absorb.