GENDER IDENTITY / SAME PERSON by Hunta Williams
Abstract
When I was born, my mom was thrilled to have a baby girl. Then she learned I was deaf, and she thought: “well, shit”.
Growing up, I had a tough life. I was involved with gangs, was incredibly isolated, being the only deaf person in the family, etc.
Looking at toy options growing up, I wasn’t interested in dolls, Barbies, etc. I wanted the soldiers. The GI Joe. The cool stuff.
I had a lot of cousins I would play with, but really only the male cousins. We played football, wrestled, etc. I looked up to my uncles. They were tough, they horsed around a lot, I felt a real connection to them. The girls in my family? I just could never relate.
I remember one day getting ready for church with my grandmother, she told me I must dress up pretty, in a white dress, the whole nine yards. I was so annoyed. I wanted to wear pants and a nice shirt. I was scolded for sitting improperly. I can’t for the life of me sit with my legs closed properly, like a lady should. That shit ain’t comfortable!
All the while, growing up, I felt I had to keep my true feelings inside. I knew there was a boy in there and I wanted so badly for him to come out. I convinced my mom to buy me pants and t-shirts, things the “cool dudes” were wearing. That’s about when I turned to drugs and alcohol to help me cope. Other girls wondered why I didn’t relate to them – they looked at me and saw someone with boobs and a female body, but I preferred to just block that all out, to not acknowledge that even existed. I would curse them out and carry on as I felt inside. My mom tried to remind me that I’m a girl, and that I shouldn’t be hanging around with other boys. I would just take a deep breath and bury myself further and further inside.
The closest I could come to being able to express myself was when I came to realize I was attracted to girls. I identified as a lesbian, but I recognized that I had to be in control. I felt a need to assume the male role, so it never really felt like a true lesbian relationship. I didn’t feel like a woman, so how could it be? Don’t get me wrong, I had many strong relationships with women, but I could never quite relate to the female perspective. They would start talking about their periods and stuff – I HATED my period. When mine started, all I could think was “EEEWWW”! It was disgusting. This furthered my feelings of isolation. I just stayed home. As I grew older, I always dreamed of the day I could just be myself and dress to match how I felt; but I kept it inside and didn’t say a word.
When I started attending the Deaf school, I dressed how I wanted, and I was accepted as I was. It felt so good. I fit in with the guys, no one questioned me, life was good. It felt so nice to be out in the world. But… there was still a disconnect. Outwardly, I could present myself how I wanted. But my body betrayed me. I had to make some changes. I wanted to take a knife and cut those breasts off my chest.
And I wanted to cut my wrists, too.
Fortunately, I met someone I could finally connect with, who felt the same way I did. They introduced me to the concept of gender, or being “transgender”. I didn’t know anything about it. Sure, gay, lesbian – I knew all that. Transgender was new to me. When I learned that concept, found that sign – I finally had something to express how I felt. I learned about hormone therapy, but still felt I needed to do something about my breasts. I ultimately had top surgery.
But still, the binary: male, female… it presents a struggle for me. I never had a father growing up. I was raised by my mother and grandmother. My mother, though – she always knew I was different than the others. Not only because I’m deaf, or because I’m black… but because I’m DIFFERENT.
I was raised as a girl, and I experienced that oppression and that discrimination that girls deal with every day; but I never really knew what girl felt like. I never really knew what boy felt like. I couldn’t. I struggled with this disconnect so much. I knew that transitioning would not mean that I would suddenly be a different person.
I’m still… who I am. I’m still Hunta. I’m the same person today.
The oppression of women, I can relate to that, what women go through. But I know that cis men see me as a peer, and they start talking shit about women, commenting about their pussies and their tits… wow. It’s disgusting. It doesn’t mean I want to return to being a woman, but it’s fascinating to think about how there was a time when men talked about me that way. I’ve been that person they’re talking about. It doesn’t matter that I don’t identify AS a woman, I still have a LOT of respect for women. Sometimes I feel trapped in between, not fully female and not fully male. I know I am perceived as male, and I hate that that means men feel they can shit talk women around me.
Women, on the other hand, feel they can confide in me. Of course I listen, and they think “of course you know, you’ve been through it.” They tell how men do whatever they can to tear women down: talking shit, bullying, beating women. I’ve experienced all of that. So when I transitioned, I didn’t just forget about those experiences or erase that part of me; absolutely not. That allows me empathy. Just because I look like a man, doesn’t mean you should treat me differently. I have been there. I know what it’s like, despite my gender identity. It’s even worse that I’m black!
Really, my biggest frustration: transition or not, I’m still the same Hunta. It’s crucial to have support from both women and men. For men, I try to educate, help them to understand that women have suffered a lot more than they have, especially black women or men. Add trans on top of that, and it’s a triple whammy.
But if you were to take my heart out of my body and really examine it, who would you find? Hunta. I am the same person, no matter what body I’m wearing. Why would you treat me any differently? I can’t abide a world like that. Why can’t people see that “gender identity” really doesn’t matter – we are the same person as before.
Especially for people who experienced life as a woman, being oppressed, discriminated against, raped, bullied, neglected… now I’ve transitioned to a black man. I know that experience of being bullied. Being looked down on, beaten, mocked, day in and day out. It still happens.
But when I die, this person will always be Hunta Williams. Don’t only see me; see my heart. See what I’m saying. Gender identity doesn’t matter. I’m the same person. There’s no room for discrimination.
Growing up, I had a tough life. I was involved with gangs, was incredibly isolated, being the only deaf person in the family, etc.
Looking at toy options growing up, I wasn’t interested in dolls, Barbies, etc. I wanted the soldiers. The GI Joe. The cool stuff.
I had a lot of cousins I would play with, but really only the male cousins. We played football, wrestled, etc. I looked up to my uncles. They were tough, they horsed around a lot, I felt a real connection to them. The girls in my family? I just could never relate.
I remember one day getting ready for church with my grandmother, she told me I must dress up pretty, in a white dress, the whole nine yards. I was so annoyed. I wanted to wear pants and a nice shirt. I was scolded for sitting improperly. I can’t for the life of me sit with my legs closed properly, like a lady should. That shit ain’t comfortable!
All the while, growing up, I felt I had to keep my true feelings inside. I knew there was a boy in there and I wanted so badly for him to come out. I convinced my mom to buy me pants and t-shirts, things the “cool dudes” were wearing. That’s about when I turned to drugs and alcohol to help me cope. Other girls wondered why I didn’t relate to them – they looked at me and saw someone with boobs and a female body, but I preferred to just block that all out, to not acknowledge that even existed. I would curse them out and carry on as I felt inside. My mom tried to remind me that I’m a girl, and that I shouldn’t be hanging around with other boys. I would just take a deep breath and bury myself further and further inside.
The closest I could come to being able to express myself was when I came to realize I was attracted to girls. I identified as a lesbian, but I recognized that I had to be in control. I felt a need to assume the male role, so it never really felt like a true lesbian relationship. I didn’t feel like a woman, so how could it be? Don’t get me wrong, I had many strong relationships with women, but I could never quite relate to the female perspective. They would start talking about their periods and stuff – I HATED my period. When mine started, all I could think was “EEEWWW”! It was disgusting. This furthered my feelings of isolation. I just stayed home. As I grew older, I always dreamed of the day I could just be myself and dress to match how I felt; but I kept it inside and didn’t say a word.
When I started attending the Deaf school, I dressed how I wanted, and I was accepted as I was. It felt so good. I fit in with the guys, no one questioned me, life was good. It felt so nice to be out in the world. But… there was still a disconnect. Outwardly, I could present myself how I wanted. But my body betrayed me. I had to make some changes. I wanted to take a knife and cut those breasts off my chest.
And I wanted to cut my wrists, too.
Fortunately, I met someone I could finally connect with, who felt the same way I did. They introduced me to the concept of gender, or being “transgender”. I didn’t know anything about it. Sure, gay, lesbian – I knew all that. Transgender was new to me. When I learned that concept, found that sign – I finally had something to express how I felt. I learned about hormone therapy, but still felt I needed to do something about my breasts. I ultimately had top surgery.
But still, the binary: male, female… it presents a struggle for me. I never had a father growing up. I was raised by my mother and grandmother. My mother, though – she always knew I was different than the others. Not only because I’m deaf, or because I’m black… but because I’m DIFFERENT.
I was raised as a girl, and I experienced that oppression and that discrimination that girls deal with every day; but I never really knew what girl felt like. I never really knew what boy felt like. I couldn’t. I struggled with this disconnect so much. I knew that transitioning would not mean that I would suddenly be a different person.
I’m still… who I am. I’m still Hunta. I’m the same person today.
The oppression of women, I can relate to that, what women go through. But I know that cis men see me as a peer, and they start talking shit about women, commenting about their pussies and their tits… wow. It’s disgusting. It doesn’t mean I want to return to being a woman, but it’s fascinating to think about how there was a time when men talked about me that way. I’ve been that person they’re talking about. It doesn’t matter that I don’t identify AS a woman, I still have a LOT of respect for women. Sometimes I feel trapped in between, not fully female and not fully male. I know I am perceived as male, and I hate that that means men feel they can shit talk women around me.
Women, on the other hand, feel they can confide in me. Of course I listen, and they think “of course you know, you’ve been through it.” They tell how men do whatever they can to tear women down: talking shit, bullying, beating women. I’ve experienced all of that. So when I transitioned, I didn’t just forget about those experiences or erase that part of me; absolutely not. That allows me empathy. Just because I look like a man, doesn’t mean you should treat me differently. I have been there. I know what it’s like, despite my gender identity. It’s even worse that I’m black!
Really, my biggest frustration: transition or not, I’m still the same Hunta. It’s crucial to have support from both women and men. For men, I try to educate, help them to understand that women have suffered a lot more than they have, especially black women or men. Add trans on top of that, and it’s a triple whammy.
But if you were to take my heart out of my body and really examine it, who would you find? Hunta. I am the same person, no matter what body I’m wearing. Why would you treat me any differently? I can’t abide a world like that. Why can’t people see that “gender identity” really doesn’t matter – we are the same person as before.
Especially for people who experienced life as a woman, being oppressed, discriminated against, raped, bullied, neglected… now I’ve transitioned to a black man. I know that experience of being bullied. Being looked down on, beaten, mocked, day in and day out. It still happens.
But when I die, this person will always be Hunta Williams. Don’t only see me; see my heart. See what I’m saying. Gender identity doesn’t matter. I’m the same person. There’s no room for discrimination.
Creator
Hunta Williams
Him/he/they
Title
GENDER IDENTITY / SAME PERSON by Hunta Williams
Date
2018
Medium
Video
Description
THE VIDEO DESCRIPTION IS BACKGROUND OF STAGE WHERE AUDIENCE WATCHING ME. THE VOICE INTERPRETERS WHICH IT IS MIDDLE OF ALISE. I AM WEARING TAN, BLUE SHIRT, WEARING GLASSES, FADE SQUARE HAIR AND BLACK TRANSMAN. I AM STANDING NEXT TO THE CHAIR AND START ASL.
Citation
Hunta Williams and Him/he/they, “GENDER IDENTITY / SAME PERSON by Hunta Williams,” RIT/NTID Dyer Arts Center , accessed May 2, 2024, https://dyerartscenter.omeka.net/items/show/523.