An Ode to Dissociation
dedicated to everyone who sleepwalked through the last week (cw politics)
I spent the few days after the election in a dissociative state. On Wednesday and Thursday, I wandered around San Jose with my gaze perpetually shielded by sunglasses. I scowled at strangers as I walked by, realizing a few paces later that some had genuinely smiled in my direction. Oh, well.
I am constantly slipping into mini-episodes of dissociation - as those who know me in real life can attest. One minute I am engaged in a conversation, and the next minute my eyes glaze over (at no fault of my conversation mate). I drift aimlessly inside my own brain, disconnected with any physical reality.
But last week was different. Everyone I checked in with was dissociating too. People described themselves as “numb” or “still processing” - suggesting that their moment-to-moment experience of life was also senseless at the prospect of another Trump presidency. We had the shared experience of unplugging from shared experience.
Why would all of our bodyminds respond in this way? What might this alternative state of consciousness offer us in this moment?
Historically, medical practitioners have been enthralled by dissociative states. Some have even tried to induce such experiences through hypnosis and “mesmerization.” Given the potential for manipulation during hypnotic states, dissociation became a sign of a potential pathology or of mental frailty. By the 20th century, the social solution for such medical judgements was incarceration in prisons or in psychiatric hospitals.
Today, psychologists distinguish between pathological and non-pathological dissociation and consider it a symptom of trauma. In this way of thinking, a trauma victim learns to escape the noxious sensations of the present by emotionally burrowing themselves far away.
Neurologically, the brain enters an ultra-fast cortical rhythm during dissociation. The region of the brain that exhibits this rhythm (the retrosplenial cortex) is thought to incorporate bodily movements within spacetime. The brain’s functional circuitry even changes after trauma-induced dissociation.
Although perhaps dissociation has an upside. In 2019, the United States FDA approved a ketamine nasal spray (prescribed with an oral antidepressant) to address treatment-resistant depression. Subjectively, ketamine induces dissociative states (among other effects). Some research partially attributes ketamine’s antidepressant effects to its dissociative symptoms - although not everyone is convinced.
As a trans woman, this moment is so surreal. This election cycle, the Republican Party spent $215 million on ads targeting trans people. I hope you haven’t seen one of these because they are pretty gross. They typically called for protecting “women’s sports” or featured transfeminized subjects1 like Dr. Rachel Levine, who serves in the Biden administration. The final tagline warned that “Kamala is for they/them.” It’s surreal to consider how many Americans voted for Republicans when this was their main message.2
Let’s examine the context in which trans people emerged as a talking point in American politics. After Roe v. Wade was overturned, American voters (especially non-men) were rightfully angry and the resulting abortion bans were are toxic. Yet, the Republican Party is ideologically dependent on anti-abortion politics. The terms of the national debate needed to shift for the party to win. So, what did President-Elect Trump tout in his outreach to cis women voters? His plans to combat “left-wing gender insanity.” And, the media obliged.
In other words, we provide cover for conservative politicians to continue to prosecute the gendered culture wars that motivate a large portion of their voter base - without alienating right-leaning cis women.
Yes, it’s surreal be an unwitting distraction.
Looking back, I started dissociating in middle school: in class, during church, and at the kitchen table. Often, my dad would walk into a room to find me staring blankly into space, prompting him to ask what was on my mind. I could never answer his question because I truly forgot as I snapped back into the moment. I couldn’t help it. Disconnecting with my body allowed me to navigate my nameless feelings of dysphoria. In this way, my behavioral adaptation was successful. My queerness and my neurodivergence, teaming up to rescue me from the numbness of my adolescence.
McKenzie Wark reflects on the connection between transness and dissociation in “Raving.” For her, dissociation (including induced dissociation) permits us to step outside of a world that so clearly hates us - a key part of her raving practice:
Dysphoria pushes a lot of us into dissociation, and [ketamine] is a dissociative drug. Self and world disappear, and with them the friction between self and world, merging into the sonic shimmer mix.
The brain cops’ only concept of dissociation is that to detach from this world must be a bad thing. But this world is broken. Even more than our bugged-out psyches. Maybe sometimes to dissociate can also be to “ressociate.” Why isn’t that a word? That there’s no words for where we go is maybe the sign that we’re on our own, but on our own together, trying to find the ways we can endure the end of this world.
What is daydreaming if not dissociation? When we daydream, we transport ourselves to an other world and leave the flawed one we live in. During transport, we acknowledge the flaws before reconfiguring the dream space to eliminate them.
Daydreamers, what does this space reveal itself as? Once armed with this knowledge, we can begin building the communities we need to survive.
Doctors aren't trained in queer health. But you can help!
I use this term to refer to anyone who is perceived as transfeminine regardless of whether they personally identify as transfeminine. For example, drag queens are transfeminized in the cishet gaze even if the artist identifies a cis man out of drag.
I say surreal and not surprising because sensationalized hate has often been a winning strategy in American presidential elections - most notoriously in 1988 with George H.W. Bush’s racist ad featuring Willie Horton.