Thoughts on getting a diagnosis

Last week in therapy, I talked briefly about planning ahead for top surgery one day.  I said that I might want to do this, maybe as early as this coming summer.  That’s the most concrete thing I’ve ever said about the subject.  She asked what some first steps would be, and I replied, “look into whether it would be covered by my insurance.”  That’s kinda something that would really help frame it in my mind, the answer to that…  She asked me how I’d do that, and I really floundered with the actual words I would use if I were for real making a phone call to insurance people.

It’s too sensitive and too hypothetical in my mind still, and I could barely even say, “female to male chest reconstruction surgery” out loud, just to her.  She got it and said, “what you could do is find out the code for that type of surgery, and when you make the call, you can just ask about the code as opposed to using the words.”  I said, ok, yes, I think I could do that.  She said she would look it up for me and email me the code.

She ended up finding out a ton more info than just the code, on her own.  She said certain info led to more questions and she ended up just calling.  Basically, she got all the information for me, for which I am so grateful because it would have felt too emotional for me to do on my own, at this time.  It is NOT covered by insurance.  I’m not surprised.  I told her that doesn’t change much – I’m still considering it.

We briefly talked about it again this week, and about gender identity in general.  She said that some surgeons require a diagnosis of gender dysphoria for X amount of time in advance (glad she is doing the relevant research!), and should she be diagnosing me with that?  This turned into a heated discussion (on my end), with the conclusion that I do not care about that, but I am OK with that, if it’s in order to help along a process.  And that, again, I don’t really care to know what she is doing in that regard.

The idea of being diagnosed with a mental health label is contentious in my mind, and she knows this.  She gets it.  I’ll be writing about this further in my next blog post, probably next week.  A teaser for what is to come:  I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 17, and held onto that belief strongly for about 6 or so years.  That’s a heavy duty label to be grappling with, unnecessarily.

My therapist is not a gender therapist, but she is doing right by me more than any other therapist I’ve ever had (and some have been gender therapists).  There was a time where I thought – we both thought – I would need to go to a different therapist in order to progress with any medical transition steps (I did this in order to access testosterone, kinda unnecessarily in the end).  I don’t think that anymore.  Why can’t she be that person?  I think she is getting on board with, she can be that person.  We concluded recently that a big goal for therapy is to make some progress with transgender-related issues and decisions, and I said I would send her some more general information to get her started.  I sent her the following resources:

Genderqueers, Gender Rebels, and OtherWise in the National Transgender Discrimination Survey

Trans Research Blog – a compilation of what is out there

Trans Bodies, Trans Selves – a great book to have on hand

Anyone have other essential resources?

More than once, she has said, where is the data?  Where is the research that says this and this and this are best practices?  And I just keep responding, There needs to be more research.  And I just keep shrugging.  IT DOES NOT EXIST.  (Yet.)  I don’t know whether she believed me initially, but she may be starting to realize it by now.  It’s maddening how little is out there.

Do I think that I have gender dysphoria?  Whoa.  That is going to take way too long to pull apart right now.  That’s probably for a future post!  Do I mind being diagnosed with that for the purposes of having a wider selection of surgeons to choose from if I do decide to move forward with top surgery?  Not at all!  It’s close enough.  (Although I do strongly, strongly wish more surgeons would get on board with the informed consent model.)

Edit:  Now that I think about it, I’m sure I’ve already been diagnosed with gender dysphoria by my primary care physician (for my testosterone prescription) and probably at least one other therapist.  To me, it all feels so arbitrary.


Janitors in pop culture #3 / awesome film about a transwoman

I recently was at an LGBT film festival and specifically planned ahead to catch a film from Finland called Open Up To Me (Kerron Sinulle Kaiken).  If you want to see it, this blog post is going to contain details you might not want to read about in advance, just a heads up!

Super highly recommend this film.  It follows the life of Maarit, a transwoman, for a few months, starting at the point of her last appointment with her gender therapist – the tone of that first scene, the therapist’s farewell message, is:  now spread your wings and fly.  Maarit had been forced through a lot of sacrifices in the process of becoming who she is.  She is separated from her wife and estranged from her teenaged daughter (we get the sense the daughter is open and figuring this out for herself; it is the mother who is standing in the way.)  She has moved away from where she once lived and worked as a school social worker.  She now leads a lonely existence and works as a janitor within a huge office building.

open up to me film still

There are only two or three scenes where she is depicted at her work (and it’s just her coming and going.  Loading a van, pushing a cart full of supplies).  The story is not about that work, other than utilizing it as a plot device for somewhere she has landed and is unhappy about.  She (understandably) yearns to get back into her chosen profession of helping people as soon as possible.  She wants this so badly that she ends up posing as a therapist (through a series of misunderstandings) while on the job.

Which brings me to a reason I loved this film…  It falls back on some unpleasant tropes common to trans characters in the media, but it ends up twisting them and rising above those ideas, to portray Maarit as a very human, very real, complex, well… person.

Transperson as deceitful:  Although Maarit deceives someone about her profession (and she quickly comes clean), she never once is attempting to deceive anyone about her transgender status.  She is proud, self-assured, and upfront with those around her (on an as-needed basis), even in the face of speculation and slander, discrimination, and violence.

Transperson as hypersexual:  Maarit is not portrayed as a hypersexual person.  It is clear that she is looking for intimacy, emotional connections, and a long-term partner.  Instead, some of the characters around her are hypersexualizing her, and that seems more about them and their own issues, rather than who she actually is as a person.  The film makes this very clear.

Transperson as dangerous and/or tragic:  Maarit is in a very difficult place (there are other aspects of her life that have fallen apart.  I won’t give away every detail!) and there are certainly scenes where she is in over her head, where she is compromised, where she seems desperate.  It feels realistic – it very much seems that some choices she makes are due to (and only due to) being pushed so far into a corner, and she’s just trying to find her way back to where she can live her life.  Those choices are not about who she is, inherently.  It’s circumstantial.  Some of these scenes, although hard to watch, feel triumphant at the same time.  For example, at one point, she is attacked by an ex-lover.  She ends up punching him in the face and ending the attack.  Awesome.

I’m so glad LGBT film festivals exist – opportunities to get out there and see films I wouldn’t have heard about otherwise.  This year, I saw this one, and another trans-specific one (52 Tuesdays – sadly, I didn’t enjoy this one all that much.  It felt overly melodramatic, the characters didn’t feel believable.)  My partner and I have gone to other films over the years, and it’s interesting that it always seems like there’s films for men and films for women.  We’ve been to films before where we’re the only ones in the theater who are not cis-men (that’s an assumption, of course, but over and over again, it has been very much divided, and it is so bizarre to me.)  At these two films (which were both well attended), there was a very diverse cross-section.  I liked that.

Also, the film festival puts out an annual literary anthology, and this year’s theme was personal pronouns.  I submitted, and my piece was accepted!  I’m now officially published, in an actual book with an ISBN # and everything!!!
The piece was a re-working of these two blog posts:
While I was “out,” part 2 – partly out of the closet, fully out of the loop
While I was “out,” part 3 – coming back

 


Hey Halloween! (how costumes fit into our lives)

Happy almost Halloween!  I thought I’d celebrate by digging deep into my writing archives to see if I could find something festive.  It may not be all that festive, but it does seem apt – I found something I wrote 12 years ago, on Halloween day, that touches on gender identity, costumes, and anxiety.

A little back story for what is to follow:  I was a Junior in college, and I was taking an awesome class called Imagining Herself, a cross-class between Women’s Studies and English Literature.  The book list was from  some Gender Studies Dream Team (for 2002, at least):
Leslie Feinberg – Stone Butch Blues
Riki Anne Wilchins – Read My Lips
Zora Neale Hurston – Dust Tracks on a Road
Kate Bornstein – Gender Outlaw
Audre Lorde – Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

And others that I can’t remember anymore.  Unfortunately, I didn’t read these books (well, I’d already read Stone Butch Blues on my own).  I couldn’t.  I was having some major depressive issues, which really put a damper on what I was capable of doing.  I hadn’t told any professors I needed help yet, but I would be doing so in the very near future.  The professor’s name was Katrina (not her real name).  I sort of had a girlfriend at the time, whom I’ll refer to as “girlfriend?”  Question mark, because I was never clear on whether we were actually together.  Girlfriend? had been in this class the semester before me, so the professor had a clear memory of her.

Here’s what I wrote on Halloween, 12 years ago:
_________________________________
More than ever, I became terribly anxious in Imagining Herself today. I think because we were discussing Stone Butch Blues, and I felt like I was supposed to be adding to the discussion, yet I couldn’t say anything. I’m one of five people in class who are potentially VERY focused on issues raised in that book. These other classmates all contributed a lot. I contributed nothing. I just couldn’t. Katrina even brought attention to me because of the zines I’ve been handing in for my project. She wanted me to talk about some of the stuff.

“[Janitorqueer’s] been doing these amazing zines,” she told the class. I felt like I was in elementary school again, simultaneously hoping for and fearing any kind of attention. “Can you share with us your thoughts about what you’ve been writing about, after reading through Stone Butch Blues again?” I hadn’t read through Stone Butch Blues again. I hadn’t yet read ANY of the books for class. I feel guilty and like a fraud. I stared straight ahead. Said, ” … um … ” in almost a whisper. My mind was totally blank. Why does this happen? She acknowledged my discomfort by asking me if we should just move on. I said, “yeah.”

I thought I might cry. How awful would that have been. I tuned out completely to avoid that scene, and that worked really well. I came back to reality within a few minutes. But for the rest of class, all I wanted to do was grab all of my stuff and run out of the room … go and hide. I have this urge often in class, but it’s never been THIS intense. Sometimes I want to slip through the edge of the floor, but not today. I just wanted to explode out, to escape.

Girlfriend? was brought up during the discussion! We were talking about clothing and performance, and Katrina asked me, “You know [your girlfriend?], right?” I nodded. Because I referred to girlfriend? a few times in my zines, she must have made the connection. Then she addressed the class. “Girlfriend? uses clothes as a performance all the time. She is always playing … she’ll wear goth, hello kitty, Ragedy Ann (girlfriend? prefers to call this one “Bag Lady”) … and when she came into class the day people were instructed to wear particularly masculine or feminine clothing, something different than normal, she said that this isn’t any different for her than any other day because she’s always playing. She feels comfortable dressing extremely masculine and/or feminine.”

A classmate asked, “Did she have pink hair for a while last year?” and I nodded, yes. “Oh, ok, I had a class with her. She is really interesting.” Katrina: “Yeah, she’s very bright.” Classmate: “Political Science major?” I nodded again.

I don’t think I’ve ever thought of girlfriend?’s incredible attention to clothing as “playing.” I thought of it as this valley girl thing she does. This thing which is sometimes tedious and sometimes fun and goofy. (She is really excited about creating me as a goth girl for Halloween.) To look at it as a carefully planned out form of play makes me respect it much more. I feel proud that I “know” her. I feel especially tender toward her, or something, ah, I don’t know! Anyway …”

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I remember that Halloween.  She dressed me up in her clothing and did my hair and make-up.  I liked it.  She was dressed as a school-girl gone wrong, or something to that effect.  It was a really warm night, and we kind of just walked around a lot, stopping in at this party and that party, maybe acquaintances of hers.  (I had no idea.  As per usual, I was out of it, dissociating.)

It makes me think about all the things we can be expressing with our clothing choices, gender-wise and otherwise.  And although Halloween costumes are extremes, all sorts of outfits can be seen as “costumes.”  Getting dressed up in formal wear?  Costume.  Even business casual?  Still, costume.  Work out clothes?  Total costume.  If it’s not a t-shirt, hoodie, button-up shirt (mostly flannel), jeans, corduroys (or gym shorts, sweat pants for lounging around), hiking boots, or skater shoes, to me, it feels like a costume.  Which isn’t a bad thing at all!  Costumes have their times and places – I love costumes!  But I will not compromise and wear clothing that does not allow me to feel like myself, when that’s all I wanna be.

Another blog writer covers some similar concepts, here – Becoming Hope:  Masks

Oh, and completely coincidentally, this year I’m going as a goth boy for Halloween.
What’s your take on costumes?


I keep thinking I’m bigger and more masculine than I actually am

I’m not complaining; it’s not a bad thing!  My surroundings sort of facilitate this, which is fine by me.  As a janitor at an elementary school, I spend most of my time, during the work-week, with women and children (if I’m with anyone at all).  Every teacher I interact with regularly is relatively feminine in her attire, mannerisms, and speech.  (There are a handful of men who teach / work at this school; I just don’t happen to see them on a regular basis.)  Every child running around me getting ready to head home for the day, is tiny.  I wear a work uniform which is super masculine by default.  (Like, we don’t have “women’s uniforms” and “men’s uniforms.”  We just have uniforms.)  In addition to the uniform, I wear men’s pants and men’s hiking boots.  I imagine my movements are relatively masculine.  I’m working, I’m using big, sweeping motions.  I saunter around slowly, sometimes with my hiking boots untied.

I am surrounded all day long by tiny furniture.  The classrooms I clean are for kindergarteners through 2nd graders.  (My co-worker cleans the bigger kids’ rooms.)  Some of these table tops are seriously 2 feet off the ground.  I have to essentially bend in half in order to spray and wipe them all down, daily.  (My poor back!)

Not an actual room I clean, but a good representation.

Not an actual room I clean, but a good representation.

I’m only 5’4″ (or maybe a little shorter than that.  I like to think I’m 5’4″ – I’m at least that with my hiking boots on!) but I feel like a giant!  Sometimes I sit down in the teeny tiny chair at the teeny tiny table and just catch my breath / think / relax.  It’s sorta like I’m in a fun house, where my self-perception is distorted because of my surroundings.

It's tough to get your knees to fit under the table.  Again, not actual school/teacher/kids, but good representation.

It’s tough to get your knees to fit under the table. Again, not actual school/teacher/kids, but a good representation.

I like this feeling a lot.  It helps me feel more like the way I see myself.  The only tough thing about it is when I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror (this happens at home too, it’s not just a work thing) and I realize how tiny and feminine I actually am!  I seem to especially hone in on my neck, for whatever reason – it’s so dainty and slender and like it could snap right in half so easily.  My wrists too; it feels like my hands could snap off at any time.  These feelings don’t really translate into me feeling like I should be taking more testosterone and becoming more masculine.  They’re just sorta… fleeting, at least for the time being.

Another thing that’s going on at work that’s somewhat related is:  age.  The kids stay the same; the parents stay the same.  (Not really of course.  Kids grow up.  I just mean I’m perpetually surrounded by kids and parents around the same ages, they cycle through, while I get older and older.)  I used to be the youngest person who worked at the school, for years.  Now, there’s a teacher who is younger than me. When did that happen?!  (It happened last year.)  Also, parents keep looking younger and younger.  Many of them are, in fact, younger than me now, which is a shift.  In fact, just yesterday, a parent recognized me from high school.  She was in a grade below me.  It was super weird!

It’s just not the same as it used to be:  kids and parents these days!


Drag king stories #3 / Janitors in pop culture #2

This is a 2 fer 1 blog post!  Join me for these two ongoing series.  The point at which these topics collide is: Kurt Cobain.  No, Kurt Cobain was not a drag king, but he was a janitor.  And when I started doing drag, one of my earliest ideas was to portray him as a janitor, singing / screaming into a dust-mop handle like it’s a microphone.  (And also using the handle as a pole vault to propel myself off of the stage, super dramatic-like.)

I went back to his journals in order to glean some details from his janitorial career.  He dropped out of high school 2 weeks before graduation, turned right back around, and worked as a janitor at his old school.  He also later worked at Polynesian Condominium Hotel Resort, and for Lemons Janitorial.

On page 43 of his journals, he drew up a mock flyer for a janitorial business he apparently was dreaming up with Chris Novoselic (bass player) called Pine Tree Janitorial Service:  Basic Commercial Maintenance.  He claims, “We purposely limit our number of commercial offices in order to personally clean while taking our time.  We guarantee $50.00 lower rates than your present janitorial service.  You see, other services usually have too many buildings assigned to the individual’s route.  So in turn they end up running thru buildings trying for time.  But at Pine Tree ——”  The page ends there and so does the thought process.  His band was really starting to take off anyway by then, haha.  Most of the journals are devoted to band-related thoughts (and thoughts about drugs, guilt, politics, fame, etc.), not janitorial dreams.

On page 160, he’s starting to plan out the music video for “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”  He wrote out a list:
“needed
1.  mercedes benz and a few old cars
2.  access to an abandoned mall, main floor and one jewelry shop.
3.  lots of fake jewelry
4.  School Auditorium (Gym)
5.  A cast of hundreds.  1 custodian, students.
6.  6 black cheerleader outfits with Anarchy A’s on chest”

Not sure what became of the old cars (gold mercedes benz?), mall scene, and fake jewelry, but the gymnasium scene, cheerleaders, and custodian ideas did come to fruition.

The cheerleaders are wearing black uniforms with anarchy symbols on them.  The custodian plays a much more prominent role in the video than he would at an actual school.  He is rocking out with his mop handle – in multiple cut-away shots.  Great music video moments!

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of my performances doing Nirvana songs, as a janitor.  But I remember some details!  The two songs I did (at two separate times) were “Aneurysm” and “Sliver.”  My hair, at the time was bleached blonde, and I pulled it in front of my face in stringy clumps.  I wore work boots, navy blue Dickies pants with a lot of keys hanging off the belt loop, a light blue work shirt – not tucked in- with epaulets, and a thermal shirt underneath that.  I brought a dust mop to dust mop the stage / use as microphone stand and pole vault.  Once off the stage, I continued dust mopping all throughout the audience.  I don’t know whether anyone got into these performances or knew what I was doing, but it felt pretty cathartic.

Just like Kurt Cobain, I worked at my old high school – er, technically it was my middle school, but it is now a high school (although unlike Kurt, I managed to graduate first, and to also graduate from college before returning).  It was weird.  Maybe I’ll write about it more in depth at a later date.  I also have rocked out with mops many many times, just like the janitor in the video (often, I’d be narrowing down drag songs, listening to my mp3 player and lip synching into the mirror in the bathrooms).  I’m actually currently doing this while at work!  I have a Halloween drag show coming up and I’m trying to decide between Bauhaus, Skinny Puppy, Swans, and a few others.

I’d like to think that Kurt Cobain wrote some of what’s in his journals while he was working as a janitor.  Although I don’t write in a journal, I do have a little notebook on my cart where I write out lists and jot down thoughts about music, mostly.  I also often utilize the time to think about stuff I might write about here, on this blog.

If you’re interested in what else I’ve written for these series so far, here they are:

Janitors in pop culture #1 – Good Will Hunting
Drag King Stories #1 – Starting Out / Overview
Drag King Stories #2 – Portraying Bob Dylan


Fractured identity and fragmented feelings

For the most part, I’ve been pretty cool, collected, and patient about the rate of my (version of) transition.  It is purposefully progressing at a snail’s pace.  Example:  it took me 10 years of deliberating to decide to try out testosterone.  I have plans for other steps I want / need to take (legal name change, top surgery), but I can’t see any concrete ways those plans might be materializing in the near future (haven’t even socially changed name yet, what to tell work about top surgery?!).

Overall, this is OK.  I know that ultimately I control the speed of things.  It’s not that I need all these things ASAP (or, if I suddenly do, I could change my priorities and get moving!).  Fortunately, it’s not about waiting on things that are out of my control:  bureaucratic processes and medical gatekeepers and getting funds together.  It’s not really any of those things.  It’s all me, at least at this point.  I need to be taking things this slowly.

Sometimes though, I get really really frustrated and just wish I were where I see myself already.  At this rate, it’ll be another 10-20 years!  At times, I get so super indignant that my identity feels so fractured.  Why does it have to be this way?  It’s society’s fault I am where I’m at!  I want to be an actual person, in all areas of my life.  I try to remind myself that everyone is fractured, to varying degrees.  It’s not a transgender-specific thing.  Everyone has their out-in-public persona and their work persona and their laid-back hanging-out persona and the really good stuff that they only reveal to a select few, etc.  And at the same time, it’s much more than a transgender-specific thing.  I’m too private for my own good, about anything and everything!

I just wish, at times, that I could line up all my ducks and without going through the effort, everyone would magically know that this is my name and these are my pronouns and this is how I feel and I plan on these changes in the future.  I’m in limbo about my name.  The pronoun situation is getting a little bit better.  I struggle at times with feeling like a whole person.  Sometimes I feel invisible.

Yesterday, I changed my facebook profile to match who I actually am, a little more than ever before.  A small change, but it felt huge!  Me ‘n facebook:  about five years ago, a few friends were urging me to join.  I didn’t really want to, partially because I wasn’t out to this person and to that person, and there was no one way my profile could be that would make me feel both comfortable with not being out, and also happy.  I was so private about so many things.  However, I thought it might be beneficial to set up a facebook page for a performance group I was a part of.  I set that up as if it were a personal page (as opposed to a group page), but it wasn’t really personal at all.  And that’s how it’s been for 5 years.  I’ve maintained the page, updating about shows, posting pictures from past shows, etc.  For a while in there, a friend and I were co-operating the page.  The page is the group’s name – not my name.

However, the group has been defunct for the past two years or so.  I mean, we might put on another show at any time(!!!), but mostly, it’s inactive.  Meanwhile, I’ve been navigating facebook in a limbo-land.  I rarely ever post.  I “like” other people’s things as this group page.  Profile pictures have been performers.  Sometimes the profile pic is me, but I’m “in disguise.”  Some people know that I am this page, and they tag pics of me accordingly.  Others have probably been confused.  “My” birthday is listed as the date of this group’s inception.  It’s been weird and disjointed, but, strangely, reflective of how I feel in the world at large.

I’ve recently been in touch with an old friend via email and he asked me about facebook.  So I “friended” him through this page.  He later wrote to me [edited for length], “I assume you are “hidden” on facebook for a reason, but please know that I have had conversations with [mutual friend] and [your freshmen year roommate] about your whereabouts.  Please know that “out of sight, out of mind” has never applied regarding peoples’ affections for you.”  That hit me hard.  I simultaneously wanted to hug him and argue with him.

I’ve been trying to improve this outlook for a while, and take charge of all these fragmented feelings.  Yesterday, I finally decided to make some changes.  I switched the profile picture to a pic of my face, for the first time ever.  I’ve been taken aback by how many “likes” and comments this move has brought about.  It feels good.  I changed my birthday and my gender identity, to actually reflect who I am.  The profile is still in the group’s name, largely because 1) I don’t know if I want to easily be found by any and everyone at this point.  Er, I know that I don’t!  2) I don’t know what name I actually want to go by.

One day, I will have a name, gender identity, pronouns, and a life that is accessible and understood by everyone!  I have so far to go still.

 


Can hormones change my sexual orientation?

This was a huge reservation for me, before I started testosterone.  I had read enough personal accounts and spoken to enough friends that I had this somewhat common narrative in my mind:  someone who is FTM was primarily attracted to women before starting hormones.  Orientation then opened up / shifted, and this person now is attracted to both / all genders, or is now more attracted to men, or even exclusively attracted to men.  One common idea surrounding this is that the person always was attracted to men (if even just on a subconscious level), but could not fathom being intimate with a man, while being seen as a woman.  Another related idea is that the person identifies so strongly with being queer, that once he is finally perceived as a man, a new type of queer identity is now possible – one that may have been appealing all along.

OK – I’m done with the generalizing!  It’s super uncomfortable for me to paint broad strokes and write about a hypothetical person in such a detached manner.  I just wanted to get some initial thoughts down, some type of framework in which to plug my own narrative into.  Whether these ideas are all that accurate or common is largely beside the point.  The important part is that they were looming large for me.  I had some serious fears about it.

While I was coming out (sort of?) as a lesbian (sort of?) in my late-teens, I was mostly just befuddled.  I didn’t really understand physical and sexual attraction.  I thought I was probably just a late bloomer.  Now I understand that I’m probably a demisexual.  Although this (somewhat recent) revelation is fascinating, I don’t feel a strong attachment to this label or a strong need to figure out my sexual orientation in all ways, shapes, and forms.  It never caused me to feel much of a disconnect from others.  I mean, I generally felt a lot of disconnect from others, but I didn’t look to my sexuality as a way to figure out why that was.  It’s kinda, meh, for me…  Fascination, and not a whole lot more.  (Which is interesting because I usually love love love picking things apart!  Haha.)

I’m gonna jump over a whole bunch of years and land somewhere in my late 20s.  I’d been with my partner (she is a cisgender female, for the most part) for about 4 years at this point, and we were experiencing a long-term lull.  We weren’t connecting.  Everything felt dulled, foggy, I think for both of us (for different reasons).  I was feeling more and more drawn to guys, all around me, and could not sort out whether that was because I needed to be a guy, or if it was a sexual orientation thing (again, the lack of the physical attraction part was confusing.  It was more of a cerebral thing.)

I kind of decided that it was both.  I fantasized about a totally different life, where I was a guy, and I was with a hypothetical guy.  However, I did not want to break up with my partner.  I strongly felt that the tough place we were in was circumstantial and situational, and that we could work our way through it.  I wanted to work our way through it.  I wondered if a big key to working our way through it was:  for me to transition.  I felt this heavy burden of a circuitous fear:  I need to transition in order to get out of this place and improve our relationship; if I start transitioning, my gut is telling me that I will be even more drawn to guys, and I will want to end our relationship in order to pursue that.

I vividly recall, at one point, completely breaking down and telling her, while crying, that I was attracted to masculinity.  She didn’t seem surprised, or threatened; she didn’t shut down.  She stayed there with me, in that moment, and replied, “one of the many pitfalls of being in a queer relationship.”  I appreciated that reply so much, in the moment.  It felt like relief.  Sometimes, I make things overly-fraught; she brings it back down to earth.

She has since elaborated that she did indeed feel the heaviness of the situation.  Although we weren’t talking about all of this directly at the time, she recently told me that she knew.  And that she was going to support me in transitioning (whatever that looked like to me) unconditionally, at the risk of losing me along the way.  Wow.

While trying to sort that out, some life changes occurred that vastly improved things.  My partner got a new job, we shifted our approach to friendships, I went back to therapy.  Our relationship improved by leaps and bounds.

It was about two more years before I really found myself at that crossroads of needing to try testosterone (although I no longer planned to transition in that common-narrative way).  That fear was still there.  Although it felt like we had a solid foundation to work from, I worried, would things shift between my partner and me?  Would I start to be drawn exclusively to men?  Where would that lead us?  I started testosterone anyway.

Testosterone has changed things for me, but not in those ways I feared.  I’m attracted to my partner and also I’m attracted to men.  Sometimes I’m attracted to women; mostly, I’m attracted to androgyny and effemininity (effeminate men).  I don’t know what that all adds up to; I just call it “queer.”  The nature of attraction feels a little less cerebral, and a little more physiological than before.  I like that.  I think I still fall under the category of demisexual, for sure, but it does feel different.  My partner and I talk about all of it.  None of it is threatening to her.  None of it feels worrisome to me.  It’s all just puzzle pieces, that, although not straightforward or common, make more sense to me than my sexuality has ever made sense before.


When No Gender Fits: Washington Post Article

About five months ago, I did a phone interview with Monica Hesse of the Washington Post, as a potential candidate for an upcoming article about non-binary genders.  She was planning on spending a few days with the person / people she selected; it wasn’t just a matter of chatting with her over coffee.  It sounded really intensive and potentially uncomfortable at times.  I thought the interview went well, and I talked to my partner about the possibility of her hanging around with us for a while.  My partner was game.  I was game.

I got back to her with a few reservations:  When might this be, exactly?  (I really love being able to plan ahead.)  And, would you be coming to my work?!!  (I am not out at work as non-binary, and I could not fathom her being there with me, at all.)  She assured me that it was not a necessary part of her article, and it’d totally depend on who she ended up going with and what everyone was comfortable with.  She seemed well versed in trans issues and understood the need for partial anonymity or a potentially incomplete story.

She had a lot more phone interviews to get through, and as we messaged back and forth, it became clear her interest in me was waning.  I was pretty bummed.  It sounded like something I was ready to challenge myself with!  Of course, the disappointment faded with time.  I’ve been looking forward to catching the finished article.  Here it is!!!

When No Gender Fits:  A Quest to Be Seen as Just a Person

I think this article is really well done.  It covers important ground:  pronouns, the internal isolation such an identity can bring (when society has no starting point for understanding), family and friend relationships, coming out issues.  There is nothing sensational or hyped up about it – the reporter seems well informed and sensitive.

A major thing struck me.  This article is about a very young person.  Kelsey is 18 years old.  They are at a completely different life stage than I am at.  The article follows them over the entire summer.  It appears that the reporter spent many many days with Kelsey, over a matter of 4 months or so.  We get a glimpse into what’s going on, as they have concerns about clothing.  As they have difficult conversations with their mom.  As they go to a therapy appointment to discuss the possibilities of going on a low dose of testosterone.  As they talk about teenaged things with their teenaged friends.  As they meet someone they found through OKCupid, for the first time in person.  As they pack up and plan for life at college.

“They will go to college. They will study engineering. They will get a job. They will find a partner and make a home. They will begin with finding a T-shirt.”  This quote sums up the tone of the article.

Had I been the subject, it would have been nothing like this at all. I’ve been to college (glad that’s over with!!!). I have a job. I have a partner. We have made a home. I have a T-shirt. In fact, I have many T-shirts. Haha.

This story is no doubt important.  However (and I’m definitely biased here, bordering on ageist maybe) I think it’s really really necessary that there are representations of older, established non-binary people.  It’s not just a young people’s thing.  (Not to imply that young people will be growing out if it – they won’t be!)  I just mean that it’s not just something someone is focusing on at the time when they are naturally growing into their identities, just at the beginning of starting new chapters of their lives.  There is, relatively speaking, a lot of representations (if even just online only) of young people, starting to question and figure these things out.

Gender identity issues are multi-generational.  They are lifelong, and they come with different sets of challenges at different stages in life.  I hope more media outlets will start jumping on the bandwagon (in respectful ways!) and more articles will pop up, with more frequency, soon.  And that those articles will focus on other identities within non-binary genders, and different age brackets, different ethnic backgrounds, different socioeconomic backgrounds, etc.

And if I’m not seeing it, I’ve toyed with the idea of writing my own article, here.  Like, pretending I am a reporter, looking in.  Look for that in the near future, maybe!

 


1.5 years on T without noticeable masculinizing changes

It’s been a year and a half!  I increased my dosage of Androgel, slightly, about 3 months ago (from 1 pump of 1% daily to 1 pump of 1.62% daily), and still, I’m not seeing physical changes (which is still a big part of my goals).  I have still not yet missed a day – applying the gel feels of utmost importance to me, as a part of my daily routine.

Nothing can be new forever, unfortunately.  Naturally, I no longer have that same emotional reaction to applying the gel (anticipation, excitement).  And I haven’t been thinking about it in the same ways as I did every single day for that first year (how totally fucking awesome it is).  Still it feels very much essential.  It’s not nearly as constant, but I do still reflect on how different things are for me now.

– I am grateful that I consistently feel like eating at regular intervals now.
– I’m grateful that I no longer feel quite as debilitated by anxiety-induced adrenaline surges
– I’m grateful that physical sensations make more sense.  Pain actually feels painful.  I don’t recoil from affectionate touches.  When I take a deep breath, I feel a sense of calm and a connection to my body.  Etc. forever.
– I’m grateful that sex finally makes sense, and that I get to be a part of it (usually.  At least it’s much improved.)
– I’m grateful that although I’m still moody and seem to feel emotions relatively strongly, it’s become more manageable, and rarely manifests in self-destructive ways anymore.
– I’m grateful that I don’t feel so cold all the time!
– I’m grateful that things just feel easier, across the board.

I am genderqueer (in case you didn’t already know!) and am continuing to carve out a space in between genders.  Or, to mix and match genders as I see fit.  I feel like I’ve made a ton of progress in terms of finding that place where I feel like myself, in my own skin.  Yet, not nearly enough progress in terms of seeing that identity reflected back to me from the world around me.  This just means I have a long ways to go (And society has a much longer way to go.  C’mon society, get with it!) until I really feel comfortable with the ways I’m seen by others.  Luckily, that part is not nearly as important as the part about how I see myself.  🙂

Initially, I feel like I was being hyper vigilant about not crossing over into any masculinizing territory, especially with my voice dropping.  As time has gone on, I’m not quite so concerned with this (although I’m not actually trying for it either.)  I do wonder if my attitudes will change more, in this vein, and I’ll start to want to increase my dose even more and cross into that territory.  Only time will tell.  As of now, I’m feeling comfortable with where I am.

Here’s where I’ve been (there are lots of details about the subtle physical changes in these past posts):

Five months
Eight months
Eleven months
One year
A video at the one year mark
One point two-five years

And finally, a couple of pictures of my face:

1.5 years on testosterone

1.5 years on testosterone

1.25 years on testosterone

1.25 years on testosterone

one year on testosterone

one year on testosterone

 


Getting to know each other #2

A couple of chain-style blogging awards are currently circulating, and I’m gonna go ahead and take part!  Thank you to Something Queer To Read, Tangled Web, and Because I’m Fabulous for including me!  These community driven awards are super important because they help us connect to more blogs we might not yet know about, and they allow blog writers to step outside of their usual modes and share a little bit more about themselves.

So, adapted “rules” for the Lovely / Very Inspiring Blog award:

– Link to and thank the blog writer(s) who included you.

– Write a few facts about yourself.  Maybe 4, maybe 7, maybe 10…

– Move things forward by including a few blog writers you really enjoy.  Anywhere from 5 to 15.

– Make sure you let these blog writers know!

This time around, I’m going to point to (in no real order):
A Feminist Challenging Transphobia
butchcountry67
The Brighter Side of the Moon
Valprehension
Today I Am A Man
Captain Glitter Toes
Create Parity
Genderweird
Transcending Chaya

And finally, a couple of things you might not have known about me:

– I live 5 miles away from my parents.  I live 5,000 miles away from my brother.

– I love beverages of all different kinds:  especially coffee, tea, beer, fancy sodas, kombucha.  I like trying new types!  (I really should remember to drink more water.)

– When I was 17, I spent 3 weeks in a psychiatric hospital.  I know I’ve mentioned it before, and although I don’t highlight it often in my writing, this episode greatly shaped where I’m coming from and how I write about my experiences.

– I’ve been a vegetarian for about 12 years.  There was a brief foray into eating fish somewhere at the midway point.  That didn’t last long.  It felt weird.  From time to time, I think about re-introducing fish into my diet, but I just can’t seem to do it.

Until next time (Getting to know each other #3)…