The sexy transwoman's dilemma: redefining gender under the patriarchal gaze

The May/June 2015 issue of Bust magazine has a cover story on Laverne Cox, where the actress and activist further cements her status as one of today’s leading feminist voices. She said a lot of important stuff, but one thing stuck out to me: regarding a recent interaction with author bell hooks where hooks basically called her out for appealing to the traditional, patriarchy-approved standards of female beauty (the accompanying picture of Cox in a cleavage-bearing crop top, flowing skirt and mermaid-like blonde hair does a pretty good job of illustrating what hooks is referring to). Cox’s response was a bullseye that I’ve been orbiting (but not quite landing on) for years so I’m just going to write it out verbatim here: “If I’m embracing a patriarchal gaze with this presentation, it’s the way that I’ve found something that feels empowering. I’ve never been interested in being invisible and erased.”

Exactly. For years, I’ve watched the media (and many feminists) lash out at women who capitalize on their sexuality. When women who are known to be smart and accomplished pose for Maxim, or dress provocatively, or what have you. The message is always something along the lines of: “by appealing to the male gaze you are voluntarily un-empowering yourself. You’re bolstering unrealistic, narrow minded standards of beauty and reinforcing the notion that whatever else you might be good at, looking hot is the most important thing.” And these are valid arguments, but even the most convincing ones have never quite silenced the voice in the back of my head saying “she can do whatever the fuck she wants.” Patriarchy is all about controlling women. And to tell a woman “Doing this thing that you enjoy, that turns grown men into a puddle of drool at your feet, is regressive and counterproductive” is to control her empowerment. It says: sure, you can be empowered, but only in the ways that society deems productive and politically correct.

It’s a complicated issue for cis women, and for trans women infinitely more so. A trans woman’s very identity is political, whether she wants to engage with those politics or not. Not only are they fighting the uphill battle of fitting in to a rigidly cis-normative society, but once the world sees them as women, they are immediately thrust into the fiery core of feminist discourse. Case in point: Caitlyn Jenner.

Like Cox, Jenner also found it empowering to embrace the patriarchal gaze. Her Vanity Fair cover was as sexy and unapologetically glamorous as a 90s supermodel spread. She could have worn a Hillary Clinton pantsuit. She didn’t want to. After a life of being perceived as male, she wanted to have that thoroughly satisfying experience of going full va-va-voom. And in spite of the inevitable transphobic tweets, the Internet’s initial, overwhelming response was a collective “Yeah, I’d hit that.” And then the wave of affirmation for Caitlyn Jenner’s attractiveness receded into a more complicated conversation. Jon Stewart pointed this out on the Daily Show saying “Caitlyn, when you were a man, we could talk about your athleticism, your business acumen, but not you’re a woman and your looks are really the only thing we care about.” Cox also urged fans to look beyond the bustier, writing on her blog “Yes, Caitlyn looks amazing and is beautiful. But what I think is most beautiful about her is her heart and soul.” These observations highlight an uncomfortable question: if the only way we know how to tell a trans woman we accept and appreciate her as a woman is to tell her how hot she is, what does that say about our definition of womanhood?

Female sexuality has always inspired fear. In their myths, ancient Greeks equated death with feminine beauty, probably because those were the two things men knew they were ultimately powerless against. Typically, patriarchal societies have handled this problem by either robbing women of their sexuality completely, or by forcing them to be defined by it. Either it’s not part of who you are (virgin), or it’s all you are (whore). 21^st century America, at least as embodied by the entertainment industry, tends toward the latter approach. But as we continue to move towards true gender equality, more and more women, both cis and trans – are refusing to accept this. They’re acknowledging, celebrating, even flaunting their sexuality without forfeiting all of the other things that make them powerful and great. So I don’t see the reaction to Jenner’s Vanity Fair cover as a regression so much as a baby step. It’s OK to acknowledge that Cox and Jenner are beautiful women. So long as we don’t stop there.