Author, activist, slam poet, facilitator, blogger, singer and scientist … and there’s enough in print and online for even a faraway South African to make researching you a full-time job - where on earth do you get the time and energy?
Well, I’m kind of naturally hyperactive I suppose. Plus I often have insomnia, which really helps create extra time (although it’s not so helpful with regards to energy).
I should also say that while I do or have done all of the things you mentioned, I don’t do them all at the same time. Being a scientist is my day job. These days most of my time outside of that goes toward writing, which is both a creative outlet for me, but also a form of activism (as I primarily write about trans issues and perspectives). I still sometimes perform slam poetry and music, but not as much as I used to.

If you had to pick just one of those hats to wear, which would it be? (You really have to choose, there’s a metaphorical gun to your head or a right wing fundamentalist or something)
These days I’ve been really into writing, so I’d have to say that.

I hope this isn’t an offensive question, but were you this energetic and productive before you transitioned?
For the most part. Like I said, I’m kind of naturally hyperactive. Before my transition, I was mostly focused on music, and put most of my energy into that. I did experience a lot of sadness back then with regard to my gender situation, and went through periods when I felt too depressed to be creative or productive. But other times I found that having a creative outlet was a useful distraction for me when I wasn’t so happy.

Do you ever get fed up with having the word “transsexual” attached to your art?
Not really, but I think that’s mostly because I have been focused almost exclusively on writing about gender and trans issues. It would be silly for me to complain about the label “transsexual” when it does apply to the content of most of my work.
I suppose that if I began to write mostly about other topics, it could become frustrating. While I’m proud to be transsexual, I also know that sometimes identity labels like that can be used to put minority artists’ work into its own separate box. I know a lot of queer writers and musicians who feel like that label holds them back from reaching the same audiences that non-queer artists have access to.

In a perfect world, which would be the better option: a situation where everyone was so relaxed and public about transgender issues that nobody would discriminate, or a situation where transsexual people would all be thoroughly and convincingly in stealth mode so that they’d all simply be treated as the gender they were meant to be?
Personally, I’d much prefer to live in the first world. I currently have the privilege of “passing” as a cissexual (i.e., non-transsexual) woman. While it still feels amazing to finally be seen and accepted as female, I think I would go crazy if I couldn’t talk about my trans-specific experiences—for example, my experiences moving through the world as male pre-transition, or my experiences transitioning.
One thing that I find really frustrating about being transsexual is that (at least right now) it is difficult to be both out *and* to be seen as myself. For example, when a cissexual lesbian woman comes out, people get to see her as she sees herself—as a lesbian woman. However, when I come out as a transsexual woman, people get to see me as trans (which I am), but they also tend to stop seeing me as legitimately female and instead see me as a “man” (which I am not). I am looking forward to the day when I can both be open about being trans and be respected as a woman simultaneously.
One more thing I feel I should add: The idea of a world in which all trans people could live completely stealth might appeal to many transsexuals, but there are also lots of transgender spectrum folks who don’t see themselves as completely female or male. Lots of people are genderqueer or bi-gender, so I think that a world where people were respectful of all transgender spectrum identities would be best.

Should celebrities come out of their various closets, or are they entitled to their privacy?
Now that’s a really tough question. I remember in the 1980’s and early 1990’s when many queer activists were frustrated that celebrities like Jodie Foster or Michael Stipe refused to come out publicly as lesbian or gay. (Both have since done so, but only recently). If they had come out way back then, it might have really had a big, positive impact. But it also may have prematurely ended their careers. Who knows. I really do think that it’s a double-edged sword, because if you come out as gay or queer or as trans in an unwelcoming world, then you do often become ghettoized as a “queer” or “trans” artist. While I am personally fine with that for myself, I can understand why others might wish to avoid it.
Anyway, in general, I think being out is a positive thing, but I can understand why some people may choose not to do so for privacy or safety reasons, and I respect that choice. However, what I have no tolerance for are closeted queer people who are outspokenly anti-queer in their public persona. Last year in the U.S., there was a rash of prominent right-wing, anti-queer politicians and preachers who were caught having same-sex affairs. That kind of hypocrisy really annoys and angers me.

Thinking about recent hate crimes in the first world as well as the third, do you think there’s any hope of humanity learning tolerance?
I think people are definitely able to learn to respect people who are different from them in whatever way. Unfortunately, it tends to take a really long time for entrenched “isms” (such as racism, classism, ableism, and the many different variations of sexism) to be challenged and eventually overturned. I am an optimist, so I’d like to think that it’s possible to end these (and other) forms of oppression. But I am also a pragmatist, and realize that it is a long process that will surely not be fully reached in my lifetime.

Where do all the words come from? When you write, do you think or do the words just happen? Do you edit your stuff much afterwards?
Back when I was mostly doing music or poetry, I found that sometimes things would just come to me all at once. I would sit down one or two times and the piece would just write itself. These days, however, I’ve been writing a lot of essays, which really require a lot of forethought and planning. So often I’ll have an outline of how I want to present it, and I will do lots of editing along the way.

What are the differences (besides the tune factor) between writing a song and writing a poem?
Hmmm, that’s a really good question. I personally feel that the best song lyrics are usually impressionistic. The music is already creating a mood, so I like to pick words or phrases that are likely to evoke thoughts or pictures in people’s minds, rather than tell them exactly what I’m thinking. I want them to fill in the blanks themselves. With poems, however, there are only the words, so I am a little more explicit with what I am trying to say. I am trying to share my thoughts and feelings with someone else, rather than simply provoking other people’s thoughts and feelings.
But of course, that’s just me. I know lots of people who write very impressionistic poems, or who write very explicit and straightforward song lyrics.

Your blog title, “blog-born-blog” - shouldn’t this be updated to “cis-blog”? Heheh.
Once all of the cis women who still use the “womyn-born-womyn” label own up to their cis privilege and realize how that label is inherently marginalizing to trans women, then hopefully my blog will then also become aware of its own cis-blog privilege…

I read one of your blog posts which reminded me of something I’ve heard from a few people lately i.e. that the gay and lesbian community often shuns transgender/intersex/bisexual people - could you elaborate on that? As a dyke myself, what would you advise me to do to help redress the balance?
I’ve written a lot about this issue (from a transsexual perspective) in my book and on my website. Here’s how I see it. We all understand how heterosexism works: same-sex attraction and relationships are seen as being less legitimate that “opposite”-sex relationships. But that is not the only type of sexism that LGBTIQ people face. Bisexuals (but not gays and lesbians) regularly face monosexism, which is the belief that being exclusively attracted to members of one sex is somehow more valid or legitimate than being attracted to people of multiple sexes. Similarly, trans people regularly face cissexism or cisgenderism, which is the belief cis gender identities and expressions are more natural or legitimate than trans ones. Furthermore, transsexual and intersex bodies are generally seen (albeit in different ways) as less natural and valid than cissexual and non-intersex bodies.
It has been my experience that some (although certainly not all) gays and lesbians are very resistant to the idea that they enjoy some privileges that other sexual minorities do not. Those who are resistant tend to see no benefit in joining with other sexual minorities to challenge all of these forms of sexism together, rather than solely focusing on heterosexism. And often they will narrowly view these different groups myopically through gay-centric politics—for example, by assuming that bisexuals are really gay people who still have “one foot in the closet,” or that transsexuals are really gay people who change their sex in order to fit into straight society. Such views are not only narrow-minded, but narcissistic.
My advice for cis dykes and gay men who wish to be allies is to listen to others, own your own privileges, recognize that there are multiple forms of sexism, and realize that it is impossible to ever eliminate heterosexism unless we fight to end all forms of sexism simultaneously.

I have a question for you from a transgender friend of mine; actually the dyke who steered me to your website in the first place, ‘what influenced your decision to come out on a wide scale and how has this affected your life since the writing of your novel?’
Well, I didn’t initially mean to come out on such a wide scale. At first I was just a local performer. But as I got more into activism, and as my writings and performances began reaching a wider audience, it just sort of happened that way. I’ve been lucky because I live in the San Francisco Bay Area (which is largely trans friendly) and am in academia (where diversity is appreciated more than the world at large), so there haven’t been too many negative ramifications of me being so out.
Mostly, I am just happy that other trans folks and allies are able to find and be influenced by my writings—I feel very privileged for that. As someone who grew up in the 70’s and 80’s feeling isolated because of the lack of information about trans people, I am happy to know that I am now one of many trans voices that are easily accessible on the web or in bookstores.

Have you ever been to Africa?
No. Unfortunately, I’ve never been outside of North America. I would definitely love to travel more, but sadly I am currently financially unable to. Hopefully I’ll make it to Africa some time in the future!

Interview: Ulla Kelly