If there's anything that illustrates the inanity of our nation's policies on queer rights, it's what I'm about to go through. In two months, I'll be trekking up to Canada for sex reassignment surgery. (Yes, Canada. That's what I think of your health care system, America.) When I eventually return to the Land of the Lost and the Home of the Whopper, I'll have more rights than I do now.
Who knew? If you want more Constitutional rights in this country, all you need is a little surgery. The advances of modern medicine really are amazing, aren't they?
That social conservatives and devotees to the patriarchy had to concede this loophole is a delicious piece of irony. Try as they might to disenfranchise everyone outside the heteronormative circle, the naïve black-and-white rules they so harshly impose turn against them in this case. Penis = Man. Vagina = Woman. No exceptions. Everyone must reside within the gender binary. No one can be in the middle, and no one can choose where they want to be.
Even though my driver's license says F, everyone calls me "she" and "her," and I subscribe to Vogue, the federal government still considers me a man. If I had a boyfriend, our relationship would be a gay male relationship in the eyes of the feds, and subject to all the restrictions thereof. Unfortunately, the feds won't go on to explain why gay men don't give me a second look in the bars. Hmm, it couldn't be my long hair, makeup, tits, dresses, soft skin and overall feminine manner. C'mon gay guys, what am I doing wrong?