I Accidentally Mansplained Childbirth
Nick North, Transgender Dad and birthing parent with his wife Katherine North, & their 5 kids.
I’m a Transman.
I have a history of living as a woman, and a mom.
I’m what we call a Seahorse Dad. A transgender Dad. A Dad who happened to birth his kids.
I’m different than most of the other guys you know, most of the other Dads that you know. I’m used to this now.
I wasn’t always comfortable with the idea that people might know these things about me. I used to think living a completely stealth life would be an empowering and magical experience for me. You know, the kind where no one knows I’m different, where I am just another guy, where no one looked at me wondering what’s in my pants. I have all these kids though, and an ex-husband, and I live in town of 30K people, so it doesn’t really seem all that possible. Most of the people around me know I’m sans penis, ask questions about my menstrual cycle, and are straight up curious about how I pee in mens bathrooms. I used to be super squirmy, but now, well now I’m just used to being asked super personal questions. I’ve come to expect it even. Don’t get it twisted though, this is not an invitation to ask me how I have sex. Perv.
Then I went to LA, to this business conference where only about 10 of the 300 people there knew who I was. It was my chance to try on just being a dude, not a trans dude, with a middle aged ish dad bod.
First let me say it was swell for my self-esteem. I “passed” with no qualms at all. No one looked at me strange in the bathroom. Our roommates didn’t suspect that my wife and I were anything other than this nice white heterosexual couple from suburban Alberta that we appeared to be. (Oh how wrong they were.) There was even a joke about if I had gotten Anna knocked up, which we both thought was hilarious because, well no dick, no sperm, no accidental baby. Winning?
So back to the point at hand. I just looked like a cis dude with my wife, and our cute kids back home, but in reality I’m still the same me as always, just in more appropriate outerwear. Meaning I was happily spending an evening hanging out in in a cabin full of women drinking whisky (cause I don’t really know how to make guy friends yet, and let’s face it women have all the most interesting conversations anyways) when the conversation drifted to childbirth, as it often does among women who have had or are thinking of having babies.
“Wait Wait Wait!” The 20 something year old recent college grad chimed in, “I don’t understand, aren’t the shoulders bigger than the head? Don’t the shoulders hurt more coming out?”
No one seemed to have an answer for this that they were willing to share, and I couldn’t let this question go unanswered. I made it through the burning ring of fire, and lived to tell about it 3 different times. The sensation is seared into my memory. So I very unwisely answered something along the lines of “although the shoulders are also pretty wide, there is give and twist to the shoulders, so once you birth the head it’s all gravy from there.
And let me tell you. The one other mom in the room (aside from my wife) was unimpressed with a man telling her how hard or easy any part of childbirth was.
I rightfully received the eye roll to end all eye rolls and a fierce, “Oh you found that did you, Nick?!?” with a look at Katherine that communicated some sort of “get your man in check.” situation. My dear friend Aga, with that wild eyed look that says, “Oh Snap! I know! But She doesn’t know. Is Nick going to tell her? What’s going to happen?!!!?”
Silence…
Looking back, I walked right into that one. But I didn’t know how to answer.
I personally had actually birthed more children than her so YES, actually I did find that. But there were a lot of questions that needed answering before I could respond to her.
IS THIS the time and place to out myself?
Was that the time and the place to out myself? Did I want to out myself? And most importantly WAS I PHYSICALLY SAFE TO OUR MYSELF?
I knew that having my experiences be minimized didn’t feel good, but I wasn’t sure I felt the need to share my gender history in that moment either. And I definitely didn’t need to smack her down and make her feel small. So instead I took my tongue-lashing, smiled, and bit my tongue.
PSA: Unless specifically asked, it’s not your job to out a transperson. Even a transgender person who is out and proud like myself. Not everyone needs to know or wonder what’s going on in my pants, not everyone is safe, and I do not owe that part of my story to anyone. If it’s relevant to a conversation there are some exceptions, but it’s pretty rare.
After those 4 days in obscurity I did however realize that I don’t desire to live stealth mode anymore. I’m lucky enough that I am safe as an out transman. Although I’m safe, it does means that sometimes things will be more uncomfortable. It means that people will continue to ask me questions about how I pee, what’s in my pants, how my wife and I have sex, and if I still get a period. The truth is that I’d rather some awkward questions than minimize my life, taking away my experiences. So I guess what I’m saying is that I’m probably going to keep mansplaining childbirth to people, because 4 of them grew and then exited my body, and I’m better because of it.
This is our great friend Lady Aga! Like Lady Gaga but Better! She was in the room when it happened and this is the only photography evidence I have from that event. You’re welcome.
My experiences while living as a woman don’t make me less of a man, they make me a better one.
I’m way more sympathetic when my wife is crampy or teary that time of the month. I understand her frustrations as she walks through the world as a woman, rather than telling her she’s imagining sexism or sexual harassment. I know exactly what Mommy guilt feels like. I get what it’s like to be made to feel small just because of your gender. I get so many more things than the average dude ever could. Instead of trying to hide those things, I’m going to use them the best I can because I think it’s what makes me the very best man.
