Julie Bindel and My Childhood

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Read More...

Summary only...

To All the Real Christians

I have no memory of where I got this picture (I'd give credit if I could), but I named it "christbeatendefendingqueer"--that would be "christ beaten defending queer"--when I saved it.
My mind went directly to this picture when I read this story.

A young trans*woman was attacked by four teens: Tyreek Childs, 17; Trevaugn Payne, 16; Shara Mozie, 17, and a 15-year-old whose name was not released because of his age.
This isn't all that uncommon, unfortunately.
What is uncommon is that the priest who runs the shelter the woman lives in came out, along with other residents, and drove the boys away. And then when the guys came back with their metal pipes and paint cans, Father Braxton tried to reason with them, tried to get them to leave.
He was beaten for his care, of course. So were two of the residents who came to his rescue.
Luckily, Tyreek, Trevaugn, Shara, and the unnamed were picked up by police and are looking at actual charges.

This is what real Christians would do, protect the week and the oppressed.
Don't believe me? Read the fucking gospels.
I am not a Christian, but my parents are and so I went to bible school and read the bible. Back in middle and high school I went through and read a fair amount of it.

When the priests come to Jesus and try to trick him, they ask him what the most important commandment is.
His answer? Love God and love your neighbor as you love me.
Your 'neighbor' is anyone and everyone; no matter their creed or nationality or any other distinction.
Folks like:
Fred Phelps, Exodus International, George W. Bush, The Catholic Church (the organization, not all catholics), and these boys?
Not acting like Christians.

I don't care what your beliefs are.
But when you use your beliefs as an excuse to attack, murder, and rape people...
When you use those beliefs as an excuse to make it near impossible for us to get legal jobs, to find housing, to go to school, to get medical attention...
Then I do care. I care because you right to believe has interfered with others' right to live.
Making it impossible for us to live as ourselves, instead of some script we were slapped on the ass with, is just as bad in my opinion.
Maybe its just me, but I'd rather risk murder and assault because I'm living as myself than live trapped as someone else.

My first boyfriend was a real Christian. At the time, I admit I was very bitter towards Christians and Christianity and he helped me get over it.
He, I'll call him J, believed in Christ's most important commandment. He believed deeply that that commandment was the main way of being Christian and that all that other stuff--going to church to who you fucked--was not nearly as important.
Showing, no being, Christ's love for your fellows is how to be a Christian.
I dated J in the early part of my sophomore year of high school, right before I came out to myself (I'll talk about that in another post). He graduated at the end of that year and we lost touch of each other. So I have no idea what he'd think of me now, or what he'd think of my transition. Or that he's dated another guy. But I think he'd be happy that I'm finally coming into myself; that I'm not hiding and pretending like I used to.

I'm not a Christian, but I like Christ. I like his lessons and I think he was often right (not so much his followers). I hope any Christians reading this, who don't already know Christ's most important commandment, will take heed and follow it.
Or at least, think of it.
Think of His words when you call something gay or retarded instead of irritating. Think on them when you choose to hire a white/cissexual/male/hetero/etc person instead of an equally or more competent POC/trans*/female/queer/etc person. Remember His words when you ignore, or join in, the teasing of a queer/trans*/disabled/POC/etc.
When you come across a situation where someone is being hurt, think on what Christ would do.
Would he join in? Would he ignore it? Or would he put a stop to it? Or, would he help the person afterwards, whether giving a kind word or buying them lunch?
Even if you're not a Christian, think on what is the right action.


PS: Don't read the comments on the NYdaily website. Just don't.

Read More...

Summary only...

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

Read More...

Summary only...

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.

She used to be my only enemy and never let me be free
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

Read More...

Summary only...