So I'm back from Camp Trans.
It was totally made of awesomesauce. I cannot wait to go back and I wish it could have lasted waaay longer. I am definitely going to do a write up in a bit, but right now I am really tired (first shower and comfy chair in a week) and I'm semi-catching up on the internets. I'm just reading my favorites and skimming a lot; at CT I used up all my alloted excitement and energy for the time being. ^.^
I met sooo many completely rad folks and I hope to get to know them better in the coming year(s).
I am just so happy to have gone. Not only was it a fun place where I met great people, but it was incredibly healing. This was the first time, other than a bit online, that I could discuss really personal trans* related stuff or even stuff that was not directly related to me being trans*, but is still impacted by it, and have a group of people nod and tell me that what I experienced/felt/did/etc was completely natural. Even though many of our experiences and/or identities were very different, we supported and cared for and respected each other so much.
It was just so amazing; yes, there were problems and whatnot, but it was still just so amazing. It was so great, but now I am completely exhausted, and it isn't even 9pm, I can't write much more than that at the moment.
Monday, August 11, 2008
He's Back!
Monday, July 7, 2008
3rd person is 3rd person
Kristopher went away to be hounded and guilt-tripped for several days nonstop, cut off from all his Important People.
Kristopher was already depressed and lonely and therefore did not need more bad energies.
Then Kristopher came back to find that there was drama everywhere. And not just where or how he expected it. Moreover, drama between people he sees as e-friends and bad drama in places he hoped to stay fun/good so that he could stay sane. >.<
Kristopher also found out he may be confined to MI for this Autumn--which is very, very, very, very, very...very bad.
Therefore, Kristopher will probably ignore the world and read fanfiction and World of Darkness rulebooks** nonstop for the next few days.
Somehow, he thinks isolation will fix loneliness and depression; whats the worst thing that could happen? It's not like he hasn't already tried this and had bad things happen as a result... oh wait...
Kristopher would very much like to cuddle and wrestle with his boyfriend as this makes everything look nicer; far, far away from their relatives would be nice too.
Unfortunately, Kristopher will only see the boyfriend when Kristopher is out of MI.
At least if Kristopher is in MI during August he might be able to go to Camp Trans. That would still be a maybe though, as that may be Too Much for parents to handle and gas is really expensive. (though he, unlike some *coughcoughheartcoughcough*, will not pass a collection plate so that he can go and buy handmade soaps and clothes)
PS: I remembered my first evar dream! I have never, ever, ever remembered a dream before. I thought I was magically unable to dream or something!
This dream? Totally a message, though of what I don't know; I need to talk about it with certain friends f mine who are better at spiritual stuffs than i am. Unfortunately, they have not been very reachable (computer died, they have jobs, etc) lately and so this may take a while. >.<
And can anyone tell I am trying to procrastinate against sleeping? Sleeping alone is boring and we hates it, yes precious we hates it.
Can someone teleport my boyfriend here for me? Cause then i could sleep and cuddle and wrestle; everything a growing boy needs...
**At least kristopher will find it useful for that monster post he has floating around in his head.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Perception
Everyone wants me to be something.
They all have some view of who or what I am or should be.
How I should act. Why I am who I am.
Most don't believe me when I say I know who and what I am.
They tell me I'm wrong, that I'm really w, x, y and not Me.
Many folks tell me they know why I am who I am.
I don't really know the whys, yet I can tell that theirs aren't true and are harmful to many.
My dad just thinks what I am is a phase. I suppose that's true. After all, when I die I won't be a man anymore but a spirit instead and who knows about my next life--I could be anything.
I don't think that's what he means though.
My mom thinks it's her fault; that she did something wrong to make me a man.
I don't see why it's so bad, so wrong, to be a man, to be transsexual.
My friends don't see anything wrong with me. They don't try to figure out why I'm a man anymore than they try to figure out why any of our other friends are men or women. They might think about what made them who they are, but it's different to look at yourself.
My cis*male boyfriend just sees the man he's in love with; I'm just shaped a bit differently than he is.
The religious riech tells me I'm a pervert, confused, and disordered. That I need to be made into a submissive, straight, Christian woman.
mAndrea, KA, Thebewilderness, Janice Raymond, and others like them think I'm a pervert, a traitor, disordered, or deceiving myself. That I need to make myself into an andro or masculine political lesbian,
But when I look at myself, I see a man, a geeky man. A man who is pretty sure of who he is, growing surer all the time, and trying to find his place in the world.
I see a guy who happens to mostly like other men, who likes weaving, reading, and making jewelry.
A man who likes feeling the Earth and hir energy; who will go outside when it's storming to feel the wind against his face.
A man who is in love with a great guy who is in love with him back.
I see a man who often feels invisible and misplaced in the world, but who is slowly learning to speak out and carve a place for himself.
And looking at me are the men I might become. The better men are coming closer all the time and the lesser men are fading from view.
I won't bow out and hide myself away again. I won't bow to the pressure of others and become a shadow of a man pretending to be a girl.
I won't listen when they say they know who I am and who I should be. I will ignore or laugh and ridicule those who presume to speak for me without listening.
I don't care why I am who I am; but I will tell you when your theories are wrong or harmful.
I will be supported by my boyfriend and friends and loved ones I have yet to meet; they see the man I am and the men I might be. I will follow my heart and soul and mind to where I should be.
Being myself and speaking my truths, no matter how they harm your theories, will do more for the universe and it's peoples than fading away and letting the minds and needs of others control me.
Monday, June 16, 2008
But What Does it Mean?
I have a few posts in the works, no idea how long they'll take though--I'm rather unfocused right now.
One on monsters and the monstrous, another on Sylvia Rivera, on my childhood, as well as a few links/posts I might discuss.
For now, in a transgender forum someone asked what we mean when we say "we feel like [our gender]", how do we know we're that gender. (And sie asked for book recommendations)
Me: I've always felt like I should have male-assigned equipment instead of female, so I started out just wanting to change that. I didn't know if I was a man or a boi or genderqueer.
As I began changing my wardrobe to more male-assigned clothes, getting shorter haircuts, etc. I was gendered male more and more often and it felt right. Eventually, after a while I just felt male no matter that I still haven't started to medically transition. Eventually I just started to identify as a man; and it felt right.
Being gendered and seen as male just feels good and comfortable; being gendered female never did.
And along with Whipping Girl, I recommend The Riddle of Gender and The History of How Sex Changed.
Here's my answer, what's yours?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
whats with all the memes I'm doing?
Ryan's starting a gender pride meme, and who am I not to play? ^.^
"You know how the feminists run that “Whats your most attractive feature, and you aren’t allowed to say ‘my X, but OMG this other body part is really ugly?’” Meme?
Well, I want to start a Gender Pride Meme along similar lines. I want to know what people’s favourite thing about being gender diverse is. You aren’t allowed to worry about sounding arrogant, and you aren’t allowed to talk about any negative aspects of gender diversity (after all, we talk those things to death, imo). You don’t have to be trans… this is open to people that are queer, or in any way transgress gender norms."
Obviously, everything here is my experiences and, since no one else has the same experiences, I don't expect all trans*/gender diverse folks to feel, learn, and respond to the same things as me
I like how being and accepting myself as trans* has made me so very aware of my body. How I am learning first hand that my body is both incredibly important to who I am and incredibly unimportant. I am learning to truly live and appreciate my body while knowing that it isn't all of me.
I'm walking the line between many extremes and/or switching between; and I like that.
Despite the hassle, I love falling between the lines and being a walking contradiction. It's who and what I am; coming out to myself about being trans* has helped me come out to myself about this too.
(To clarify, I don't fall between the lines of male/female or man/woman; I'm not "best of both worlds". I'm talking about other things than these sorts of ungendering cliches.)
I know myself better than most people my age; better than many people ever know themselves I'd even say. I credit my experiences surrounding being transsexual for this.
I love how I've responded to being trans*.
Working, though slowly sometimes, towards understanding and accepting others. Who knows, if I wasn't trans* I could have ended up very overtly racist like my grandmother and uncle (grandma said I shouldn't spend so much time with my "colored friends" because that was probably scaring white kids away. Uncle says how n*****s are dirtying his neighborhood).
Being trans* and queer and a fem/andro guy has opened my eyes to oppression and activism that I never would have thought had I grown up a white cis*guy.
Growing up assigned-female allowed me to explore gender expressions I would never have been allowed near if I'd been assigned male. I was able to play with legos and dolls, hammers and princess dresses, science kits and EZ bake ovens.
I was given and loved all of them in childhood, and this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't a trans* guy.
I can't explain all of it, but I know I've learned so much in this life from being transsexual. I don't know yet if I'd do it again, but I know I don't regret it.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
There is a continuum ya know
So, I'm thinking of a few posts I have in the works (and as I write this intro I'm still not sure which this post will turn out to be); one on my childhood[trannyhood], women-only space and "WBW"-only space, or one about me my genitals and sex. Being in my childhood home, filled with memories, I don't feel like crying (no I wasn't abused or anything. It's just that I really, really miss my cat, my best friend for over a decade, and this house is filled with memories of her).
Or, as seems to be popular, write about my thoughts on WBW and women-only space. Not only do I find that topic to be becoming somewhat boring, but I also feel...odd commenting on the validity of women-only space as I am a man. Perhaps, when I've thought more about it, I will write on being a man in women-only space (while my school itself was co-ed, the dorms and certain classes were single-sex) and how gorram uncomfortable it was.
So, since I miss my boyfriend (and sex), I'll write about sex.
Ok, fooled ya, I'll write about my relationship with my body as well as give an unsexy and probably somewhat clinical overview of how the romantic and sexual relationship with my BF have progressed. I've been reading the comments on certain posts over at Bilerico and I am somewhat amused by how guys like me went from a HBS/transsexual man to "woman with a fetish" due to a single act.
Plus, it gives me a chance to brag about how much I like most of my body; despite having confidence problems in some areas, I am still quite vain (I am a Slytherin after all). ^.^
Moreover, I recently found the text of Eli Clare's speech given at the Philly Trans* health conference and it is so amazing.
Looking at shame and body shame; specifically within trans* and disability contexts:
“This obsession with cure turns disabled bodies into medical problems to be solved. In doing so, it ignores disability as an issue of social justice. Ignores that many disabled people would rather put an end to ableism than have our bodies “fixed.” Of course this gets complicated when I turn back to trans community, to those of us who seek to reshape our gendered and sexed bodies. But really it’s not our desire or need for bodily change that I’m challenging here. Rather, it’s how we name those desires and needs, because to claim our bodies as defective and to pair defect with cure, not only disregards the experiences of many disabled people, it also leaves us as trans people wide open to shame...Of course there’s another important strand of naming at work in our communities—a strand that declares transness not a disease, gender nonconformity not a pathology, and bodily uniqueness not an illness, a strand that turns the word dysphoria inside out, claiming that we are not the ones dysphoric about our genders, but rather dysphoria lives in the world’s response to us. This naming acts as a necessary counterbalance. But I have to ask: what about those of us who do in truth deal with deep, persistent body disonnance, discomfort, dysphoria? A social justice politics by itself will never be enough to resist shame. ”
I see my transsexuality as a medical condition (not defect) and medical transition as a way of treating my body dissonance. But I still agree with Eli, being trans* (or disabled) does not make us defective, it is society and how society sees and treats us that is defective. Yes, both groups may need treatment, but we don't need to be disappeared or 'cured' into normalcy. As I re-state later, we also have the right to refuse treatment or to choose an alternate treatment to the mainstream options.
Okay, back to me and my body; I just wanted to give a shout out to that fantastic speech.
My relationship with my body is rather complicated to say the least.
I am quite happy with most of my body. While my hair does not always cooperate, I find it to be pleasing to the sight and touch--especially when I can dye it green. My face is attractive enough I suppose, I wish my lips weren't quite so pink though--makes me look like I'm wearing pink lipstick and I look too much like a girl if I cover them with black or deep brown instead...
I am quite fond of my legs, nicely shaped imo and with a decent amount of hair. While I wish I was taller, it's not a major issue .
My arms, despite being thin, are actually quite "masculine" being as they are quite hairy and have visible veins. They are actually one of my favorite body parts, not just because of how they help me pass as a cis*guy, but their overall look, shape and texture and whatnot, is quite pleasing to my eyes--I love the almost blue cast my veins give my arms.
I have some problems with my torso and hip areas though.
I always have bruises on my hips; while they are still relatively narrow, I still forget how wide they are and I bump into walls and tables.
I have a great deal of dissonance regarding my chest; I'll go to take off my shirt and, sometimes, I will be honestly surprised that I have gynecomastia (breast growth on men).
Luckily for me, it isn't a very bad case, a sports bra and a bit of layering is enough to hide it most of the time. But...my group of friends enjoys having "shirtless o' clock" and I enjoy being nude when it's just my BF and I. Moreover, it is incredibly uncomfortable wearing four layers in 80 degree weather. I want it gone, not just hidden.
There are times, like now actually, when I only take a shower every other day just so that I don't have to confront the dissonance.
I pray to the Gods that when I eventually start hormones there will be enough fat redistribution to take care of it. I don't want to put myself at the mercy of hospitals and doctors and hospital staff and insurance companies more than I have to. I've heard too many stories, even just from friends and family, about uncaring nurses, insurance bureaucracy, transphobic staff, and the like. Not to forget that I hate the idea of being helpless and unconscious as some strangers cut me open; if I can I will most definitely have a friend watch over the surgery to make sure nothing happens. And a night at a hospital scares me; what if I get a nurse like the one my mom had after her heart surgery--one who refused to come to help and who left my mom's ESL roommate in pain because she couldn't be bothered to show her where or how the "morphine button" worked. And this is 'just' about top-surgery, How will I feel about genital surgery? Though, for anyone not aware, top-surgery is often deemed more important than any genital surgery by many transgender and transsexual guys (according to what I've seen over the years in various ftm communities).
Ahh... now for the uncomfortable part: my genitals.
Truth be told, I used to hate them.
Growing up and even into adolescence, I would 'hold it' for as long as I could before going to the bathroom--I couldn't stand to sit. Later, when I first attempted to masturbate I disassociated myself entirely and found no enjoyment.
And even later, when my BF and I were first starting to go beyond kissing, I told him to ignore and pretend like I didn't have a vagina at all; and that I wasn't sure about the rest of the area, but he wouldn't be the only one getting any fun.
Eventually, we started to do more than kiss. Eventually, we found things that didn't set off my dissonance too badly that were still fun for the both of us. And, eventually, I came to trust that he sees me as a guy no matter what. No matter that my chest wasn't flat when unclothed, no matter that I didn't have a typical cock, no matter that I have an extra hole.
So, after much thinking and me having to convince him that I actually wanted to, we tried PIV.
And I found that it wasn't so bad--that as long as he still saw me as a man I was usually able to ignore the dissonance.
And surprisingly, I found that when I was feeling bad about being trans*, when I wasn't passing, when I felt like it would be better to just hit the reset button on this life...that having my most important person be made acutely aware of how my body is not male-assigned and yet still having him see me as 100% man was enough to get me through (the orgasms afterwards helped too of course).
It's not a fetish. I still can't masturbate and I'm sure that it'll take a lot of time to develop this level of trust in my future relationships.
It's validation from my most important person; the feeling of love and trust mixed with the knowledge that no matter what I am a man...it isn't sexual for me--it's something else entirely--English doesn't have the words to describe how it feels for me.
As for the penis (and lack of a vag') making the man... Well, in my case I'd really like a peen, my map says I should have one and there is no way I can describe how much it hurts to have my body not match my map that badly. Hopefully hormones, when I eventually go on them (no insurance and it's bloody hard to find anywhere that'll sell T without a script), will make my dick grow enough to lessen the discord to a manageable level... But I'm pretty sure I'll keep the vag'; I've grown to like it, the dissonance surrounding it is manageable, and PIV is way easier than anal (and I am so very lazy).
So anyone, be they HBS or Christian or feminist or have letters after their name, wants to tell me that learning to cope with a vag' makes me less of a man...well they can go fuck themselves with rusty railroad spikes.
Not respecting trans* identities because that person is not as disphoric as you think they need to be is cissexism; it's just as cissexist as not respecting trans* identities period.
My body is my own; I will change what I believe will lessen the most dissonance, keep what I can learn to live with or even cherish, and leave the parts that were never a problem alone.
And I do want genital surgery, but this doesn't make me more of a man than a guy who has been able to deal with, or never had, the same level of dissonance about his genitals (same idea for women btw).
I don't think every trans*person can, or should, attempt to live their life without surgery/hormones. Some people just don't have the same levels of dissonance, some people are able to work through it without hormones and/or surgery. But I also don't think that medical transition, or surgery, should be requirements for being a transsexual or for legal transition.
I won't live my life without medical transition; if I am prevented for too long I know that I'll eventually kill myself. The dissonance is that great; and learning to live with my body-as-is is merely a stopgap measure to help me deal until I can medically transition. But this also means that I can see how a trans*person with less dissonance can work through their dissonance enough to live without medical transition. Remember, some people can pass without any medical transition. And some people don't care as much about passing as a cis*person as long as their loved ones see them as who they are.
I can also see that some people need medical transition ASAP and that hormones and surgery mean a lot to them. Sometimes, it must seem like some transgender folks are saying that anyone can or should live without medical transition (and there are some folks that do believe that); that medical transition isn't important.
And some of these folks think that all trans*/transgender folks think that no one should have them.
And while I can see it from their point of view...they need to stop and learn that even if someone doesn't need surgery that doesn't mean that they necessarily believe that no one needs surgery.
Furthermore, just as important, that one's medical decisions do not change their identity and nor do they define their identity. People have the right to seek alternate treatments and moreover I do not know of any medical condition that is diagnosed by the treatments one chooses to use.
I don't know where my transition will take me. I won't let others tell me what i have to do to be respected or a valid man. I won't let anyone tell other folks what they must do to be respected or a valid person either. Everyone is different and should be respected.
Nature abhors rigid categories; humans are the ones that create and define rigid categories, not Her.
“Although I doubt there is one complete passage between shame and pride, there are many tunnels through the thicket, and on the other side lives an openness that lets us slide into our bodies and makes space for persistent joy and comfort. Body love can wake us up in the morning, put us to bed at night, visit us as we’re dressing to go out or just singing along to our favorite song. These moments don’t usually arrive as big, as loud, as brash, as a Pride parade. They just show up one day in the mirror or the camera, not that we’ve passively waited for them. No, we’re all too aware of how hard we’ve worked for them, but still they arrive unexpected. Sometimes in community or with a single friend. Sometimes with the encouragement of families and partners, or in collaboration with health care providers and therapists. Sometimes they arrive as we’re rabblerousing in the streets or when we’re stuffing envelopes for the next fundraiser. They arrive as we tromp through the woods or walk down the street or dance up a storm on Friday night.
However those moments arrive, let’s build community that nurtures them. Let’s figure out ways of naming bodily difference that fosters comfort and joy. Let’s build a politics that holds space, safety, options, and shuts no one out. Let’s pay attention to shame as both a community issue and a health issue. Let’s create the space to make our bodies home, filling our skin to its very edges.”--Eli Clare
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Back then I didn't know why
This is a bit late, but I wasn't able to write much right before/on Mother's Day because I didn't have a place to stay for the summer until yesterday. I've kept quiet about it for various reasons... But if you look at my bio on the right, you'll see that I say I live with my boyfriend. Until he moved out of his dorm yesterday, I lived with him unofficially because in a fit of major depression last summer I dropped out of college (yeah, I'm trying to get back in--I don't need more lectures on this).
How does this relate to Mother's Day?
Well, I suppose this is better fit for LJ than a blog, but meh.
I have...a very complicated view of and relationship with my mom.
Growing up, Mom says I was close to her and told her everything; but that's not right according to my memories and she has a tendency to cast history to her advantage so I'm not sure how true this is.
I remember picking black raspberries (not to be confused with those nasty blackberries) and making pies and jam and shortcake with my mom, sister, and grandma.
I also remember feeling betrayed when Mom disproved of my few friends because they were a "bad influence" (they were poor and/or had parents that weren't very responsible).
I know Mom loves me, but I also know she treated my sister and me very differently and one of the reasons my sister and I had such a bad relationship growing up was because we both saw the other one as the Favorite.
Now, I realize that we were treated so differently because of how different we were/are and because there is a four year difference.
But at the time, all I saw was how Becky (name changed) was catered to; how I was punished far more drastically and frequently than she was. All Becky saw was that I had far more privileges; how she was seen as less intelligent.
We fought about everything all the time; more than one (one? try a dozen) family outings were ruined by our fights.
Looking back, I see how it must have hurt and frustrated my mom to be in the middle of this day in and day out.
She was the youngest of three and the only girl.
She so wanted a sister growing up; I was constantly told how I should cherish my sister because brothers are worse.
Her parent's obvious favorite, even now, is the middle child--the brother that picked on her the most.
I look very much like my dad while my sister is the spitting image of my mom.
I've always wondered if she saw her brother and her in me and my sister's fights.
After four years of being away at boarding school, my sister and I are on far better terms; she was the first family member I came out to and her response was basically "I don't get it, but you're still my sibling". Becky is the one that calls me her brother (yet still uses feminine pronouns which is interesting sounding).
So now I get to the part about me being transsexual and how this relates to my relationship with my parents.
Given that parents are often blamed for their kid "turning out" gay or trans*, this isn't a topic I can just ignore.
I am not gay or trans* because of anything my parents did or didn't do; my relationships with them has been complicated and informed by me being transsexual, but thats quite different.
I don't know all the reasons why, being transsexual is one reason why, but I was very distant from my family as a middle-schooler and later even now.
Middle school is when my depression first started to raise it's head.
Not only was puberty going in an unexpected way (yeah, I was one of those trans*kids in such denial that I hoped that I'd magically get the correct puberty), but I was being bullied for being so smart.
Yeah, not because I was smart for a girl or anything, no--because I was acing the advanced classes without breaking a sweat.
In history I vied for top spot with a girl who studied her ass off while I read the textbook, multiple times, cover to cover for fun. She payed attention and took notes while I, bored of the textbook, read Xanth or Valdemar; the teacher didn't care since he could ask me a question,and while he may need to repeat it after he finally got my attention, I could answer in detail without a problem.
For this, I was shunned, called names, talked about, etc.
In middle school I loved the environment, wolves especially, and had a lot of t-shirts and books about wolves and werewolves. I did want to be a wolf; their power and close pack structure awed me.
Yet, having the kids ask me, the shy trans*kid that grew up being laughed at for my speech impediment (now outgrown), embarrassing questions like "do you really think you're a wolf?" just to get a blush and a stammer out of me...it really made me hate school and humanity in general. The teasing never really turned physical, but I did face a lot of verbal teasing and was shunned a lot ("you have such good ideas, why don't you work alone").
My parents, Mom especially, did what they could for the bullying.
Of course it didn't help; of course it made things worse.
Telling me to just ignore it? Telling me to trust the girls that were nice to me even once when I was already used to their betrayal?
Was one reason I stopped believing in my mom and dad.
Looking back, I also realize that this was when I first started to resent my mom and dad; I resent(ed) them for not seeing I was a boy, I think I even blamed them for me not being cissexual.
Even now, a part of me still resents them for it.
And another part resents them for all the little words and actions that delayed my coming out.
And I still have the notion that they should have known--they should have seen that I wasn't a girl.
I was a introverted kid, but a not-so-rational part of me still feels like they should have guessed.
Of course, as a teen, my mom did guess--sort of. She outright asked me a few times if I thought I was a boy or if I didn't want to be a girl. But by then, I remembered her random lectures about how being gay was against God's plan and how witches went to hell for worshiping the devil (I talked about reincarnation even as a little kid and I asked for tarot cards the week of that lecture). I remembered reading about Zach and how his parents sent him to a torture camp; and he was only gay--what would they do to me for being both gay and trans*?
So I lied through omission. I told her I didn't want to be a boy (not that I already was one) and I told her there was nothing wrong with being a girl (and not that I wasn't one).
I tried femininity out, to placate her, and found I liked parts of it. I found that eyeliner is hott and skirts can be comfy (at least, the swishy ones that reach my ankles are).
We bonded over how hot Johnny Depp is.
And then I turned 18 my senior year and decided that I wouldn't tell them until I knew I wouldn't be trapped in MI.
So, during spring break at college I emailed them both my coming out letter and called them, saying there was something important that I had only felt comfortable expressing in text.
Neither disowned me, but both are in their own form of denial.
Dad's is outright, "you are my daughter and you can never be a boy."
Mom's is more subtle (she's done this for a lot of things, so I know the signs), "I'll play 'good cop', but you'll grow out of this phase after a bit."
Despite planning and expecting worse, this complete erasure of who I am and what I told them (so much that I'd have to explain every time I mentioned wanting to change my name or be called by my nickname), I slipped into a really deep depression and basically stopped going to classes and fell asleep in the ones I did attend.
I couldn't study for tests or exams.
After spending a summer, practically alone (the few friends in the same state are an hour+ drive away), yet still shoved back into the closet after a year of being free...when I got the news that I lost my scholarship...I withdrew.
I asked my boyfriend if I could live with him in the dorms and my friend R said I could stay at his house in the days between my flight and my Luv moving into the dorms.
A few days later, I told my parents and I came out to them regarding my depression and their part in causing/triggering it.
Yes, I do feel they share some of the blame for how I reacted and what I did; though I realize that those actions are still mainly my responsibility.
I barely got them to agree to me coming back to NY, but I knew I'd kill myself if I stayed trapped in MI.
This year, despite a promise to call every week, I've called maybe a dozen times.
I get shaky and panicky just thinking about calling.
Guess where the only place I could stay this summer is?
Now guess how I feel knowing this; especially since my Luv, for unrelated-to-me reasons, is dropping out too. I do have a plan, I'm applying to colleges near Philly and will move in with a couple of friends later this summer (July or August), but who knows if this will be enough. Who knows if I'll get too trapped and try to find a quicker way out.
I know I need to reconcile with my parents, but I don't think I can right now.
They're both from families that don't believe in not caring for their own, so rationally speaking, I shouldn't need to worry about getting thrown out.
I still have to worry about getting caged though.
But how can I live with or truly love people who don't see ME?
How can my mom say she loves me unconditionally when she can't even call me by an androgynous nickname?
I'll never be a parent--by choice--so I can't know what it's like, but saying I love you to her sounds lie a sham when I can't even expect a name that doesn't hurt.
I don't know how I will resolve this. I'll make a rough plan and improvise.
My friends know how I am when I'm there; I've told them not to let me isolate myself further while I'm there. Though its not their responsibility, I don't think they'll let me down.
Who knows, maybe I'll find a miracle and and reconcile with my parents, come out to the rest of my family, and win the megamillion lotto.
**The title is from the Spice Girl's Mama, which my mom loved and I hated when I was a SG fan way back when.
Catching me in places that I knew I shouldn't be
Every other day I crossed the line I didn't mean to be so bad
I never thought you would become the friend I never had
Back then I didn't know why
Why you were misunderstood
So now I see through your eyes
All that you did was love
Saturday, January 5, 2008
A bit about me being transsexual and how I experience this...
I'm a transsexual guy--and before anyone starts on about upholding gender binaries or butch lesbians or whatnot--I am somewhere on the feminine side of androgynous or geeky.
I am, in fact, definitely more of a flaming faggot than I am, or ever was, a butch dyke.
Sometimes I like to call myself a geeky, flaming fag.
When I tell my friends some folks' theories about how trans*guys are really butch lesbians...well lets just say that I have learned to make sure this is in a place and time where excess laughter is not going to cause us any trouble (for instance, never again will I tell a friend this while she is driving; never again).
I'm not transsexual because I think it's cool or because I want attention.
Being transsexual has caused, and is still causing, a lot of pain for me and I am still trying to be able to consistently take pride in being transsexual.
And while, like most people, I do rather like attention--this is definitely not the way I go about gaining it.
I also don't think that I am delusional or crazy. because I'm trans*, nor that I am trans* because I'm crazy (and I resent the ableist crap that calling people crazy represents).
But anyways, here is a post I wrote a few weeks prior regarding how I experience transsexuality; what being transsexual means to me.
The other day Emily posted on what being trans* means for her.
And I can see some similarities between our meanings, like I experience the body dissociation as well and, just like with her, the intensity rises and falls. Given that everyone experiences things differently and I think there are different types of trans*ism, there are differences between our accounts as well (though reading her post, I see nothing there that is 'wrong' for me, only a few experiences that I haven't had and/or are more specific to trans*women).
For me, being transsexual is that there is a constant wrongness to everything and that it generally becomes worse when I am am made aware of my body and voice. There is a constant slice of despair in my life that has been present for as long as I can remember and it has never gone completely away. I can ignore it for awhile and it isn't always completely noticeable, but it's my ever-present companion.
This isn't to say that I have always despaired or that I hate being transsexual. No, I can often ignore the wrongness (especially if I'm around people who see me as a guy and if I'm not made aware of certain parts of my body) and I think I have experienced and seen valuable things in ways I never would have if I was cissexual. And what I mean by “made aware of” is that while I am always aware of my body and how it's shaped I'm not always aware of it; I know it's there but I don't really pay attention to both my body and my gender dissonance.
I'm currently reading Whipping Girl and her description of body dissonance fits me well. “This gender dissonance can manifest itself itself in a number of ways. Sometimes it felt like stress or anxiousness, which led to marathon battles with insomnia. Other times, it surfaced as jealousy or anger at other people who seemed to enjoy taking their gender for granted. But mostly of all, it felt like sadness to me—a sort of gender sadness—a chronic and persistent grief over the fact that I felt so wrong in my body.” (85)
I feel the same way, even the insomnia (the other night I didn't even bother going to bed as I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep).
And that's just the physical aspect.
The social dissonance—the dissonance of not being viewed as what/who you see yourself—is rather like a mixture of confusion (how can they not see that I am a man?), annoyance (gah, stop bothering me about this and just respect my truth!), and shame/guilt (what am I doing/not doing to make them see me as something I'm not?).
I see myself one way and yet society treats me as though I were another way.
ETA: I've been thinking about this some more and another thing that happens when someone misgenders me is that I am suddenly thrust back into awareness of how wrong my body is. I'll be fine and then, suddenly, BAM! "Missy" and with that comes the shame and the anger and the confusion and I am reminded that my body doesn't fit.
It's like this story I heard once where, to give the kids a lesson about seeing things from others' points of view, a teacher put an item on a desk and one side was black and the other was white. The two kids who volunteered to debate the color of the item each saw a completely different color and they had to switch places before they could agree.
I see myself as male and, while I know that I have a vagina and other assigned-female parts, I have a hard time seeing how those somehow make me a female/woman. The people who insist that I am a woman see only that I have female-assigned parts and that I have been raised by people who saw me as a girl and they can't see how I can argue with this. The people who read me as female-assigned get confused because they see someone who has mostly female-assigned secondary sex characteristics (and they assume primary as well); since most people are taught that primary+secondary sex characteristics=sex and gender they therefore think I am a girl/woman. Based off of their logic and their point of view, I realize that they aren't wrong. But based off of my logic and my point of view, I know that I am right as well.
And since we are talking about me, I think that my truth is more important than an external truth.
I guess some of this comes down to whether you believe in absolute truth or not. While I don't believe there is an absolute truth of everything, I am not sure if there are no absolute truths; just as I am not sure if I believe in free will or if I'm a Determinist or some form of mix or something else entirely. Truth be told, I don't usually care as the answer will not directly affect me or my actions (though I do ponder Big Questions like these, I simply don't see the answer itself as all that important).
Before I get too off topic, more on my experience as a transsexual...
I don't really identify as trans* or transsexual—at least, my gender identity and my subconscious sex are male/man. I identify as transsexual/trans* because that is how others see and classify me. It is an identity forged through a life lived with a certain medical condition and how I have been mistaken for and had to pretend to be something and someone I was not.
And yet...I'm not planning on going stealth; I out myself fairly often and I have little problem doing so. I suppose this might change when I eventually medically and legally transition and begin to pass more as a cissexual guy, but I pass fairly well among the geeks I often hang out with. It isn't unheard of, or in some circles all that uncommon, for geeks, nerds, and other social outcasts to fail at being the stereotypical man. Despite my feminine facial features, lack of stature, and high voice, I often pass among those of the Gamers club and any guest brought to it's meetings or events.
Yet even though I pass well I still out myself with little hesitation.
In my utopia, people could choose to treat their trans*ism the same way I treat mine, but without ever having to worry because someone chooses to disrespect their truth. They could casually mention how they lived in an all-female-assigned dormitory, how much they hate going to the gynecologist, or how itchy bras are and it would be like someone with bad knees mentioning that they have to remember to bring their cane with them because the weather is getting icky (and that tends to trigger some people's, such as my boyfriend's, joint problems). They'll get a couple questions (why were you in the girls' dorm?) and then people will move on because it really isn't that exciting; the hacked copy of Guitar Hero 3 that got out before the game was released is a much more interesting topic to the group.
I keep focusing more on how transsexuality affects me externally and not what it feels like and means internally.
I think it's because I've never felt like my body and my mind weren't constantly disagreeing with what should and shouldn't be there. How can I describe something if I can't tell where it begins, where it ends, and where other things are?
I have felt a “phantom penis” before, both before and after I stopped denying that I'm a guy. I remember, sometime before I was four (as I know it was before my sister was born and she was born just after my fourth birthday), that while I was in the bath I'd pretend I had a penis. I remember all those times being confused when I reach to scratch or adjust something that isn't there. I also get confused sometimes when I am reminded that my chest isn't flat. I'll be doing something, like carrying a box, and I'll wonder why, just for an instant before I remember, the box doesn't sit against my chest like it should.
I'm getting better at coping with the dissonance though... “I am a guy, my body is me/mine, and therefore my body is that of a guy” helps me a lot. Other people, like my friends and my boyfriend, seeing me as a guy and yet knowing about and even seeing or touching the parts of me that are pretty much universally assigned-female also helps a great deal.
I do not feel as though I am ”trapped in a woman's body” or “born in the wrong body” though. This is my body. everything but sex-specific differences (I mean things like genitals and voice; not generalities like height or gender expression) feels alright. I do feel a connection to my body and I doubt I'm a walk-in or any other form of “this body doesn't belong to me”. I feel as though my body simply did not develop into the right shape.
Like I'm a rhombus that's been molded to almost be a square and so I no longer fit through either the square or rhombus holes of life. ...And that is an horridamusing analogy I hope no one ever remembers that I made it.
There I went again, talking about other people and how that shapes my meanings and truths; and after-all, shouldn't I learn to love myself without basing my worth or that love on what other people think of me? Yet most of our experiences are shaped and formed by our interactions with others.
Moreover, when you are told constantly that you are crazy, you are a girl because you have xyz parts, that you will never be seen as a guy it most definitely helps to have the voices of others to counteract those lies that you may have started to believe about yourself.
I think the core of my transsexuality/trans*ism, though it doesn't sound as philosophical or as Emily's meaning for trans*ism, is that of a medical condition that sets me against what many people say about myself and my truths. Because of this I've developed an identity around it, but for me being transsexual is that my body and my mind don't match up.
I feel though that this was a lot of words and a lot of rambling tangents to say something so simple...I almost want to come up with something different, something for profound or political, yet I know that my being transsexual is simply this.
