Ten year anniversary of this blog!

Ten years ago, today, I started “janitorqueer.” I wanted to write about being queer, specifically genderqueer, and about being a janitor. Mostly though, I wanted to find and connect with others who had similar stories. I wanted to be on testosterone long-term, but I was afraid that it was going to do irreversible “damage” to my body and my life. And before that stage, I was so afraid of even just trying to access testosterone as someone who is nonbinary. I was looking for other people who had traversed that frontier specifically of low-dose testosterone, so low that no one could detect anything going on at all. In the process though, that end goal changed, and my fear of being detected drastically shifted. I am now out in all areas of my life, and I like being pretty loud about it if the opportunity arises. I found other people trying to walk this thin tightrope, but more importantly, I found many many others who dance under this broad umbrella of transgender experiences, and I learned so much from all of these peoples’ writings, more than anything else.

I used to spend 2-3 hours a day reading and commenting on blogs. At the time, it directly fed my soul. And I would write! Write so much, at least once a week, during my “heyday,” which I’ll quantify as being between summer of 2013, and spring of 2018. What changed? Probably a combination of finally feeling comfortable in my skin, and shifting my writing energies toward a memoir. And also going back to my roots of journaling. Been doing a lot of journaling. I don’t think I’ll ever return to this blog with the fervor I once had, but this blog will remain open and public; that I am sure of.

In that first entry I wrote, back on July 24, 2013, entitled “low-dose testosterone for the rest of my life,” I chronicled how being on testosterone had been going so far.

I wrote,

“About 4 months ago, I started a low-dose testosterone adventure.  I wanted to take testosterone long term while ideally, not going through any physical changes.  I didn’t know whether this would be possible, and I still have yet to find any information about whether it’s possible, specifically.  I largely feel comfortable with where I’m at in terms of gender presentation and expression.  But I’d been wondering a lot if certain internal experiences could be better.  Gradually, I found myself in a place where I realized, I need to try out a few things and see what works for me.  I got on a really low dose of Androgel and was completely floored by how well my body seemed to connect with additional testosterone.  To me, it feels like it has a whole lot more to do with my mental health than it does with my gender identity, but of course, it’s all intertwined.  As of now, I plan to be on testosterone for the rest of my life if possible, while minimizing physical changes.  I’m taking testosterone toward androgyny.  Although, I’m already androgynous, so I hope to be transitioning (outwardly) toward more of the same, actually.” (If you wanna read the whole post, it is here: https://janitorqueer.com/2013/07/24/low-dose-testosterone-for-the-rest-of-my-life/ ).

What is striking to me now, is this dreadful fear of changing. It clearly was about a coming-out process, but I would not have framed it that way for you at the time. I wrote, about some physical changes I was hoping to dampen, “Other subtle changes have plateaued out, and I stopped worrying so much that I was going to have to choose between coming out in new ways to people I that didn’t really want to come out to, or stopping this thing that I was falling in love with, internally.” I would have said I don’t want to come out because there’s nothing to come out about, at least nothing that makes sense for me in society as it is now. Looking back, that fear had me patrolling my own body in some strange ways. I’m so much louder, fancy-free, and out and proud these days. (Still do patrol my body a bit – don’t want to go bald! but there’s so much more room for my body to just be, now.)

I didn’t know I was going to end up wanting to try all types of doses of testosterone. I didn’t know I’d want to stop and start and stop and start with such (ir)regularity. I didn’t know I’d end up wanting some of the external masculinizing changes. I didn’t know I had the capacity for happiness I now inhabit. If someone had told me I could one day be happy, I would have said, “sure, I guess, this is some version of happiness.” I found something different.

I haven’t written about being a janitor as much as I thought I would. I think that mostly has to do with uncertainty about work stuff, online. But there is one thing I’ve never said about it, and it’s me all the way, so I figure why not? I have never had any career aspirations (outside of being a little kid, when we all do! I wanted to be an artist and a marine biologist). The only other job I could ever envision myself doing is a postal carrier. Except I don’t want to drive the truck; in my fantasy it’s exclusively on foot. Earlier today, I uncovered something I wrote in my journal from March 18, 2003 (twenty years ago! And coincidentally, exactly 10 years later from that date was the first time I tried testosterone!)

At that time, I had been working for my former school district in the summers, on the “paint crew,” mostly painting classrooms and fulfilling more specified work orders.  Somehow, I instinctively knew I would/should continue pursuing something similar, as opposed to any career that involved working with others or using my brain to generate good work. I continue to experience “brain function working not working,” all the time – sometimes I can watch complex television shows and listen to dense podcasts and read for fun when I have down time. Other times, all I can muster is staring off into space for extended periods of time. And move. All I can do is keep my body moving, for that forward momentum I need to maintain my stability. This job I have been doing for 19 years now, this cleaning at an elementary school, ends up being a near-perfect fit. It is heavily routine-based, but it doesn’t have to be – that’s up to me. I don’t have to interact or collaborate with anyone, usually. Just doing my own thing, getting exercise, finding various ways to entertain myself. I envision myself retiring from this gig.

Long live being a janitor. Long live being queer.