Trigger warnings – Transphobia, suicide.
The positive human spirit is like a garden, endless upkeep and still the weeds will come back every single time. There is no positivity without pain, no growth without setback. Life is a transient experience, we live through the turmoil because those beautiful flowers are worth it.
For all the supposed inspiration, I’m going to focus on some of the more horrible aspects I’ve been experiencing and trying to distinguish between ‘trans problems’ and ‘life problems’.
For some reason I was compelled to make a comment on the youtube. Big mistake, this is the domain of invincible, invisible trolls after all. Three phrases creep up, which are no doubt tenets of the trans experience, ‘You’re a freak’, ‘You have a mental illness’, ‘You’re a man’. I find it all very interesting. As a white male in a Western country I was seemingly the pinnacle of humanity, immune from credible ridicule for living an honourable life. Now, as out and out trans, I find myself at the very bottom of the human pile, a supposedly easy target for the ‘normal’ people on us ‘lessers’. There is no normal, only average, only mediocre.
There is no talking to many of these people. For some reason, repeating ‘but you’re a man’ is supposed to have some sort of effect. I compare it to telling an adopted child ‘but they’re not your real parents’, is this supposed to demean? Is it supposed to be new information? For that adopted child, it is best for it to not matter, these are the people who raised and nurtured, so they are the parents. For me as trans, sure I have a male body, probably even male chromosomes, but I have gender dysphoria. To repeat to myself ‘I’m a man, I’m a man’ is to create and compound the dysphoria so why would I do it!? Ah, it’s a delusion you see. The position is reversed for the trans individual; the delusion is the body we inherited.
We trans folk are mentally ill you see, we couldn’t drive a car in Russia. It’s scary to think, my mental state has not changed overmuch since the alarm went off. If I am mentally ill, then it leaves little chance for anyone else, because I function wonderfully in society, whilst I see the normative perish for lack of thirst.
A well adjusted transgender individual could function very well in the incorrect gender for their whole lives, many no doubt do without ever telling anyone. The problem is, dysphoria exists, it taps at the mind every second, but it does not impair specifically – like all things, it’s not the situation, it’s how you deal with it. So the choice is, live with the tap-tap-tap of the lie you may be living, or do what you need to do to be free! (Read: in new chains) Transition is a logical, rational decision against a choice-less biological condition.
I would posit that if you think I’m a man, then I’m more of a man for having the guts to transition. Even more so, it takes a lot of ‘female’ strength to retain a female identity after spending so much time conditioned as a male! Heck, I haven’t started hormones, so I have enough testronic anger and physical strength that if I met some of these bigots on the street they would be picking out teeth through their nostrils. Nothing so dangerous as a woman scorned, especially in a man’s body. I wouldn’t do that though, and I diminish myself for saying it, it’s just how strong this body calls out, and a factor I personally despise in myself, just like phallocentric sexual urges.
I know plenty of cisgender males with penises who aren’t men, because they shame themselves, they are slime. I’ve said to myself in the past – What makes me a man? That I am honourable, loyal, open, loving, helpful etc. These are the exact same things that make a woman. Not body type, not social conditioning. When I do start hormones, I will lose that strength and I will be incredibly vulnerable, and this is when real men will step up for me. This is when I will start using a women’s bathroom in public (note it is not called the vagina bathroom, or the XX bathroom), because there are enough pretenders in man-suits who would murder me just as quickly, and I just wanna pee.
Put simply, I don’t ‘think’ I am a woman, it is an unconscious compulsion that creates a specific demand which burdens little of my mental alacrity, it is just very, very, very annoying. What man thinks he is a woman? It is a trick question, no man thinks he is a woman, only a woman does, it is a logical fallacy. If I thought I was a woman, then I would have a mental illness and I’d sign myself into a mental institution.
Trans folk can look kind of strange, sure, but please present us with an alternative. To remove what makes us dysphoric through pills or reparative therapy would be to remove our personality, our individuality. Trans is trans. I get transphobia, the assumed sexualisation, perversion, fetishistic deluded state – it is the mistake of thinking that transition is a mental/social/cultural issue, whereas it is truly a biological/medical issue.
I will not disagree with those who for honourable reasons disagree with me invading a ‘female-only’ space, or for damaging my otherwise healthy body. There will always be psycho trans who will ruin it, but the vast majority of weirdoes and psychopaths in the world are not trans, even proportionally. Being raised as male, I can share those concerns and worries now that I know myself to be female minded, but we have to work together here, to respect each other’s privacy.
This blog is now and forever dedicated to Leelah, and to all trans youth who have suffered and lost their lives. I am forever in awe of trans youth. Though I didn’t know much about it when I was young, I’m not sure I would have had the guts to come out. I got enough grief in school for having long hair to nearly go on a suicidal rampage, but to come out as she did, and others do, in her situation? That’s amazing, that’s brave. It is the bravest of us who get chastised and marginalised, that’s counting those with other myriad complicating life issues. You are the people worth caring about, and you have my love. I wish I could renew your strength from afar for all you deserve.
To Leelah, look how many people she is helping now. Her own experience may have ended in tragedy, but she has become a life donor, she has spread awareness and given hope to others, I think she may save a lot of beautiful lives. I love you SO much Leelah, Rest In Power.
Used without permission, only empathy.
Suicide and suicide idealation are very dangerous things. Even with the strength and experience I demand to possess, sometimes it seems… … … sometimes it seems like that option makes more sense. Rather than be a ‘freak’, rather than never being genetic, rather than never being accepted, rather going through the whole overblown nightmare. But it’s bull, it is a challenge life sets for us and no matter what we can persevere. You can always try again, you can always start again from nothing. Suicide is not the resolution of a problem, it is the end of the opportunity to resolve the problem.
Trans problems vs. Life problems.
Are there trans problems? I will say again, I am very new trans, so my words hold little water against those with more complete real life experience. The medical transition, that is a trans problem. The social transition is partly a trans problem in the transitional period, afterwards I will argue (with zero authority) that these problems become life problems. Getting murdered for being trans is a life problem, because we are not responsible for the actions of others’.
I lost four friends today because I couldn’t deal with the karmic injustice and relationship comparisons. I’m still very upset that for all my love that has been cheated and trampled upon leaving me alone, that those who cheat and call their partner a ‘cancer on the world’ get rewarded with love, sex, companionship and closeness. This is a life problem.
Two of those friends were close females and now I have no girl buddies to help me transition. This is a life problem. I scare myself to think I may never be in another relationship again, going further I will say that being trans may significantly reduce my chances of a relationship. I still think this is a life problem. I want to reduce the experience of being transsexual into the tiniest possible space, because that’s how small it should be. Sure, being trans sucks, but you know what, it’s a life problem.
Trans problems are a small circle within the big circle that is life problems. Trans problems are simply a unique flavour of life problems. For all anyone knows, the perfect partner awaits those who are true. What use is half a heart?
I met an old friend on NYE, the one I thought would have guessed about me even 10+ years ago. She was not surprised. Thank goodness someone knew. The party was well represented by L, G, B and I was the cherry T on top. It’s good to get out there, fewer people care than I would have thought, again they were more interested in my husky hat. Walking past a bar an old man called me over, on seeing who I was he simply said ‘F*** Off’. I laughed right in his face, because even if I were the most beautiful natural girl I still wouldn’t have wasted more than those few seconds indulging a feckless hack.
I read my journals to write a 2014 year in review and read all the increasingly obvious signs of dysphoria. Talk about an elephant in the room! How easily humans can be blinded by that which is eminently obvious.
Second laser appointment went well, for all the squirming pain. I’m upgrading the pain from ‘rubber band with a drawing pin’ to ‘rubber band with a drawing pin covered in electricity and fire’. My previously furry hands are basically hair free, as are the sides of my cheeks and a little bit under the chin. The shadowlands however can be burned and burned but still they will not dissipate, it will take a long time, though at least the growth speed and darkness have somewhat abated. I’m noticing all the tiny fine white hairs that will need to be needled out for even greater cost and agony. Because it’s all for vanity, right? It is much more painful to not have it done, that’s all.
At work, I’ve set a transition date with the manager, which will free me to live completely full time in all aspect of my life. 8th of April 2015 will be the day I am female to all I will know and meet until it is legally verified, forever. For this I booked a week off, and will write a letter with help from management to hand to out-of-office staff on the day I go off to allow them time to take in the information and talk to the office staff who already know.
Here’s how big a deal gender transition is. On the day before I go off, I will work my butt off and I will go home at 5pm. On the day I come back full Amy, I will work my butt off and I will go home at 5pm. I’m too busy to answer a lot of questions. I simply ask for the respect and courtesy to change my pronoun. I’m not asking them to indulge in a delusion, I’m asking them to help me with my dysphoria.
I am very lucky, my name is Jamie which I will keep for professional situations, we have single stall toilets of which the disabled doubles as the female, and we wear a unisex uniform. The only changes that will be on show is a little make up, using a different bathroom and I suppose a different voice. The staff still to find out are generally 50+, and I also deal with a lot of Christian groups, so they may be perturbed, but guess what, either do your job/use the service, or don’t. I’m still doing my job.
Voice is still the thing that will ruin me. I have been practising, sure there are exercises and chats about tone, resonance, frequency and so on, but still I’m not seeing the connection between that and what the result is supposed to be. It will be the last piece of this current puzzle.
I got my eyebrows done properly yesterday and they look great even with boyface, and on Saturday I’m finally going to get my hair cut and styled. This is a massive step for me, because it will give me a more obvious feminine demeanour that just cannot be hidden, not that I would want to hide. I’m more nervous about this than the laser for some reason.
I got to use my Christmas savings to buy enough clothes to get by without ever having to dress like an out and out male ever again. Funny thing is, I dress like a lesbian, or at the very least a tragic transsexual, but I don’t mind.
Big regards go out to Rockstar Games. Not only have they allowed me to move my GTA Online profile from Xbox to PS4, but I was able to change my name, and change my gender. That’s right, my name is MetalAmy, I have a rocket launcher and you don’t. And I dress like Rob Halford. >_<
I see the issue now between transition-ing and transition itself, that is, without a decent voice, there’s no point wearing good make up; without correct presentation, clothes are irrelevant. At one point it will all come together. I’m very out and out because I don’t intend to stay in this town, and I don’t deny it. I’m happy to be seen as trans for now, even though I see myself as female. I think I want it to be obvious at this point, so people can see the causation of what I’m striving to achieve, that I know who I am.
I wonder what I can do to spread awareness? I can do it here to the world, and locally in the real-o-sphere. Knowledge is great, but just to give folks the chance to see me in action and realise there’s nothing particularly weird going on apart from my own personal experience, as well as how I look and sound. Plus I love the look on people’s faces’ when I tell them my name is Amy in a deep masculine voice. I also find shop keepers specifically look away, or over compensate with masculine terms like ‘man’, ‘mate’, and ‘sir’.
You don’t need to look good to feel good. Biologically we are all fleshy blob sacks, and attraction is only determined by reproductive demand. We are getting past this evolutionary crutch as reproduction takes care of itself enough that so what if homosexuals and transsexuals aren’t committed to ‘natural’ task. Maybe that’s why we can be seen as freaks, from the false belief that we have no place or even right to be, because it is assumed we do not wish to procreate, and are therefore not part of the human experience.
Folks just don’t understand, of course they don’t, I didn’t until about six months ago and I’ve been dysphoric all my life. So let’s be strong little transgender lovelies and spread the homemade honest goodness that we in general come to represent!
In the longest and darkest of nights, day still comes.
Leelah! Leelah! Leelah!
With kind love and headscratches for all,