Body Awareness

Back in 2020, I was still early in my journey of understanding that I was intersex. That’s when Jeffrey Eugenides’ landmark novel, Middlesex, really came onto my radar. I was aware of the book before then. It was pretty famous and won some awards when it came out. I’d seen copies at the local Half Price Books for a while, too. But when I realized that the book was about an intersex person, I decided to dive in.

The book is good. Very good. It’s a riveting family drama told over the course of decades. Those stories are hard to write and pull off well. Eugenides really did it.

As an intersex story, however, I found something missing. The biggest letdown for me was the lack of awareness of Cal in his own body. I even wrote an article about my thoughts specific to this book on Book Riot at the time.

Here’s the thing about being intersex, or at least my experience being intersex. I am CONSTANTLY and ACUTELY aware of my body, about the differences between my body and those of cisgendered men.

By the time I could form memories, I knew that what was between my legs was different from most men. This really became a problem for me in the middle of elementary school. This is when a lot of boys start having “The Talk” with their (mostly) fathers. They start to understand sex and how things worked down there. My own talk with my father didn’t happen until I was 12, and that talk was woefully inadequate. But what I started to quickly understand was that the shape and size of a man’s penis defines his worth in this world.

I was shattered. I knew I wasn’t “normal.” I knew it didn’t look the same down there. I was certain I was too small and too grotesque to ever have any worth as a person. I believed this as firmly as I knew the sky was blue and the sun was hot.

By the time I reached junior high school, I was terrified at the idea of changing clothes in a locker room. Fortunately, I didn’t do sports except for a brief stint in early high school, so I didn’t have to deal with the shame of showering in front of other boys. But I changed as quickly and discreetly as I possibly could. I was bullied for being smart as it was, so I certainly didn’t want to give bullies another excuse.

When my first infection hit when I was 15, it just drove home how different I was. I was shy to engage in any sort of sexual experiences to the point of demisexuality, a word that I certainly didn’t know. When I was in college and experienced pornography for the first time, I was more disheartened than most men by the sight of male porn stars.

Add in lingering medical issues and a perpetual block when it comes real talk about my sex life, and you get the gist. I’m not sure more than two hours have passed in my entire life when I wasn’t thinking about my genitals and how they’re different. The feeling of inadequacy is something I’ve fought my entire life. I still struggle with it, even though I’ve now stripped on stage in front of strangers multiple times.

That’s where I found Middlesex lacking. For someone who was intersex, Cal wasn’t thinking about his body enough. It was an aspect that Eugenides just couldn’t understand. It was a level of psychic distance that no cisgendered person could have. He wrote a great book, but he missed that part.

And that part might be the hardest part of being intersex for me. Not the surgeries or the medical issues that have followed. Not the sexual limitations. It’s how I just cannot escape this body mentally. It’s on my mind all the time, like a chain around my neck that I can never break. It’s also a weight that I’ve grown so accustomed to, I’m not sure I’d know what to do if it went away.

Perhaps this is different for other intersex people, but I imagined this story is similar for all of us. Strangely, I’ve never met another out intersex person other than online, so I haven’t had the chance to really talk to them about this particular part of our conditions. I suppose it’s a form of body dysphoria, one that’s never talked about but should be.

There is a light at the end of this tunnel, at least. As much as I knew I was inadequate when I was a child, I now know just as firmly that no one’s worth is determined by something they cannot control. As Lady Gaga sang, “Baby, I was born this way.” Doctors did the best they could. And my value as a person has nothing to do with any of that.

I am not defined by what is between my legs, but rather by what’s in my mind and heart. And if you’ve ever felt body dysphoria, know that the same is true for you. You are not your body. You are so much more. Anybody who says otherwise can get fucked.

Are you intersex? I’d love to chat with you because my story is far from the only intersex story. We all need to share our stories, even if they’re anonymous. Reach out. Let’s fight the erasure of intersex people together.