We spend our lives attempting to achieve that which we perceive as “perfection”: the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect partner, the perfect body, the perfect face, the perfect car, the list goes on and on. For the trans population, especially those on HRT, or those who want to begin HRT, that “perfection” can be even more difficult to achieve… But really it’s only because we set ridiculously high standards for ourselves, based on society’s ideals, and how we want society to see us.
I’ll admit that even I fall victim to that pursuit of perfection.
Two weeks from today, my friend and I are packing up my Scion, and hitting the road for Utah, where the biggest event of my life, to date, will take place. As the day draws closer, I find myself becoming more contemplative. I’m not young, or rather, I’m not as young as I feel sometimes, and I’m definitely not as young as I wish I had been when I started transitioning.
I waited so long to truly be me, and I’ve been thinking more and more about what I would tell my younger self, if I could. So, instead of borrowing the Tardis, or Doc Brown’s Delorean, I’m going to tell other young trans folks what I wish someone would have told me a decade ago. So this isn’t really a wishlist for me, it’s more of a wishlist for you.
So many trans* identified individuals have a love/hate relationship with their mirror. Sometimes it’s more hate than love, but whether we hate what we see, or love what we see when we look at our reflection, I think we spend far more time than we’d like to admit looking at said reflection.
If we are transitioning, and on HRT, we stare at ourselves, almost willing the changes to happen faster. We look for anything that resembles facial hair, a more masculine jawline, softer skin, breast growth. We look for muscle and fat to redistribute so that we better resemble our true gender. Staring, we try to see ourselves as others see us, or how we wish they’d see us. If not on HRT, but still trying to ‘pass’, we spend way too much time picking the right outfits, the right patterns to hide or enhance certain features.
It may seem like vanity (and for some, maybe it is), but for many of us it’s just a matter of trying to find a connection with our reflection.
Just as the segregation of blacks and whites was never about drinking fountains, the events that are happening in North Carolina, and elsewhere in the United States, is not about bathrooms.
It is not even about what is, or is not, in someone’s pants.
It’s about fear. It’s about hatred. It’s about taking a group of people and making them less than human.
That’s what this is about.
A nice question to hear at the dentist, or gynecologist, or on an airplane. Not a question you will ever hear me ask you regarding my transition.
Frankly, I don’t give a damn if you’re comfortable or not. I’ve said it before, and I will continue to say it, my transition is not about you. It’s not about anyone but me.
Don’t like it? There’s the door.
There is a major rift forming under the trans* umbrella, and it’s something that frustrates the hell out of me.
I’m so tired of being told how to be trans*. I’m tired of being told what I should and should not be ok with, and how I should feel about anything and everything to do with the trans*/non-binary/GNC community. So many whose identities fall under the umbrella seem to make it their life’s mission to be offended by everything; every article, every movie, every tv show, every character, everything! By refusing to see ANY good in ANY of it, they succeed in not only alienating our community, but pushing away our allies.
The desire to bawl your eyes out, but the inability to actually do so.
One of the big issues you hear trans men talk about once they start hormones is the inability to cry. Or rather, the inability to cry at the important stuff. One of the effects of testosterone is that it changes your mentality, your emotional thought processes. It takes the emotional “girly” thinking, and makes it more logical. That’s not to say that we don’t feel things, it can just become harder to express those feelings.
This can be frustrating as hell.
Isn’t that what the kids are all saying these days?
To be honest, I’m not even sure what it means, but for some reason today the phrase popped into my head and it seemed to make sense for what I was feeling.
No, I didn’t take a selfie and post it to social media.
It’s been a long road to get me to this point, and there are still many paths for me to travel. But right now, for me to say that “I’m feeling myself” means that I finally have a clear idea of who I am, and what kind of man I want to be.
There’s a post on Pride.com which is being shared around the transgender community, particularly by trans men. It’s essentially an apology letter from a trans man to the person they were dating while they were transitioning. After reading it, I decided I was NOT going to share it… and let me tell you why…
(Note: this note will touch on more personal details than most of my past posts…)
I don’t even know where to start. There are so many things going on right now, how do you pick which thing to talk about? Cop violence, trans* violence, racial violence, gun violence, presidential campaigns, trans* rights, civil rights, black lives, white lives, native lives… Our country is a hot spot for civil tensions right now. We’re a pot on the fire, about ready to boil over. Everything is steeped so deep in controversy that friendships are ending because opinions differ so widely, and no matter what you say, someone will be offended.
I know I get awfully worked up over some things, that it ends up affecting my entire day. So instead of attempting to take on one of the above controversial issues, I’m going to talk about something that is specifically a trans* topic, particularly transgender men;