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pauraque_bkWhoa! Um... I wrote a lot. About being transgendered, and specifically being happy about it. I don't know if anyone wants to read this! But here it is if you do.
I became consciously aware that I didn't want to be a girl when I was about 13. I know it's the Thing to present oneself as transgendered from birth -- a boy accidentally born a girl -- but that wasn't my experience. As a child I quite happily played with girl and boy stuff, and I have no stories of my parents disallowing me from playing with certain toys due to gender. If anything, gendered activities in either direction felt like "dress up" and no more real to me than running around pretending to be a bird or a pony or an alien (which I frequently did).
I had mostly girl friends, but that was because girls were who approached me. If anything, I felt Other. Always. When we played house and they picked who was mom, dad, and baby, I insisted on being the dog.
But as I said, by the time puberty hit I was uncomfortable enough with becoming a woman that I rejected it. I dressed to hide my sex, started going by a gender-neutral name, and told my close friends that I felt I was neither.
I actually knew there were people in the world who lived androgynously (thank you internet), and I really considered it. In some contexts online I did present myself as androgynous; this was before I was in fandom.
If androgyny were considered a real option in society, I probably would have chosen it. But I basically decided it was too damn hard. It was more of a battle than I was willing to fight.
But there was another option that did not seem too hard, and that was being male. I'm lucky to have grown up in the situation that I did, such that I did see that as a valid choice. Of course it's always hard, but if you have to do it, try to do it in San Francisco, is what I mean. There is support here and I availed myself of it. I was male full-time by 18 or 19, and not before that only because I couldn't do it in school (long story).
I myself kind of doubted that it would work. I didn't think I would be any happier. But I was. I was so much more comfortable. My relationships with everyone became much more normal and relaxed. I was able to hold a job. I had always been told that I was miserable because I was clinically depressed, but that proved to be utterly untrue; I was in fact miserable because I was trying to be a girl. I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't experienced it.
I was astonishingly lucky to find a job where the hiring manager was also genderqueer (he was living female then but later went FTM), and was very sympathetic. But nonetheless this was a very sucky time because I didn't pass well, and wasn't on hormones because my mom didn't want me to -- before you rush to judge, I was living with her and she was dying of breast cancer. So I made that choice to accomodate her, hoping that she would grow to understand. I think given enough time she would have, but there were a lot of factors (and this is not a post about my relationship with my mom). She died before we settled it.
This was also the period when I began to be active in fandom, which of course is a very female-dominated space, so as a new person coming in I got a lot of probably undeserved attention because I was a boy. I didn't ask for it. You can possibly imagine what it felt like to see others occasionally get outed as being "really a girl" and "posing as a guy to get attention". Really, I don't know what the deal was with those people, whether they were FTM or questioning or what was happening. But it made me feel very trapped and unhappy in fandom, like if people knew "the truth" they would judge me very harshly. (Eventually I got fed up with that shit and outed myself, but that was much later and I was much less invested in what fandom thought of me then.)
After my mom died I was laid off from my job, and found myself unemployed and with enough money from the insurance to remain unemployed for a couple of years, so I went on hormones. I wish all trans people could transition without having to go to work or school at the same time, because my way was a lot easier... My only meaningful social contacts were online, so I pretty much got to experience the physical transformation without anyone watching that I didn't want to be watching.
When my then-doctor set me up with my prescription, he made a comment that surprised me, which was that this new venture seemed exciting, and might be "dare I say, fun". I wasn't exactly offended, but I was mystified. Being transgendered had never been fun. It was self-consciousness, fights with my mom, hatred from my dad, laughter from strangers. It was a disgust with my body that I admit I brought on myself. I berated myself that I would never be a real man, and therefore never good enough, not for me or anyone else.
I had actually put myself in an impossible trap: No one could love me because I was damaged and inadequate, and if they DID love me, there must have been something wrong with THEM. I'm not proud I thought this way, but I did.
So what went wrong?
For me, the box labeled F was a miserable trap. Escaping from it made me feel better. But what I did not realize for several years was that the box labeled M was a trap too.
I'm going to explain.
The thing I credit most with saving my sanity is reading Kate Bornstein's books. Ironically my dad gave me one of them ages ago, in one of his pretend-supportive moments. I wasn't ready to read it then -- I didn't believe what it was saying, which is that gender is so much more nuanced than those two stupid little boxes, and that transgendered people may kill themselves trying to measure up to what are in fact imaginary stereotypes.
Look at non-transgendered people -- imagine the women you know, the men you know. Do they all express their gender in the same way? One of Bornstein's examples that I loved was Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger -- both men, both masculine, certainly not feminine, but do they express their masculinity in the same way? There is no such thing as perfect gender expression or a perfect body, and aspiring to those things is a deadly trap.
This scared me and I wasn't ready to hear it. I -- and a lot of trans people -- invest SO MUCH in those little boxes. Our salvation!
In fact I've often felt trapped by the expectations of other trans people. There are still people who will really discourage you from accepting your feminine side (if you're FTM) or your masculine side (if you're MTF). More often people do this to themselves: It's nearly an expected part of the transition process that we go through a period of hypervigilance about being as MUCH the target gender as possible -- the stereotype of it, of course -- rather than as much ourselves as possible. Non-trans people all have masculine and feminine traits, why would trans people be different? (Of course there are issues with unlearning taught gendered behaviors that you may not want, which complicates matters, yadda yadda.)
Then there are political reasons that trans people pressure themselves and each other to conform to some imagined ideal... because we need an often uncomprehending society to give us rights. It is relatively easy to understand the concept of traveling from one box to the other, but not to understand that the boxes don't exist. We need them to believe that we are real, that gender dysphoria is real and lethal. It benefits us to present a simple, united front. But it does not benefit us to internalize these simplified beliefs.
I figured this out by reading and watching and listening, and by finally being in a healthy relationship with someone who loves me and does not use or manipulate me.
What I have found for me, personally, is that I need to identify as trans. It is not a "transitional" or temporary state of being, it is who I am and who I want to be. I am learning to cherish my experiences of gender that most people don't have. I'm learning to enjoy and cherish my body for what it is, the body of an FTM. Not an imperfect male body nor a mutilated female body, but my own particular and valid physical form.
I never imagined ten or even two years ago that this would be possible. I viewed being trans as a curse and a burden that would never be lifted. What a sad existence it was. But I'm getting better now.
I became consciously aware that I didn't want to be a girl when I was about 13. I know it's the Thing to present oneself as transgendered from birth -- a boy accidentally born a girl -- but that wasn't my experience. As a child I quite happily played with girl and boy stuff, and I have no stories of my parents disallowing me from playing with certain toys due to gender. If anything, gendered activities in either direction felt like "dress up" and no more real to me than running around pretending to be a bird or a pony or an alien (which I frequently did).
I had mostly girl friends, but that was because girls were who approached me. If anything, I felt Other. Always. When we played house and they picked who was mom, dad, and baby, I insisted on being the dog.
But as I said, by the time puberty hit I was uncomfortable enough with becoming a woman that I rejected it. I dressed to hide my sex, started going by a gender-neutral name, and told my close friends that I felt I was neither.
I actually knew there were people in the world who lived androgynously (thank you internet), and I really considered it. In some contexts online I did present myself as androgynous; this was before I was in fandom.
If androgyny were considered a real option in society, I probably would have chosen it. But I basically decided it was too damn hard. It was more of a battle than I was willing to fight.
But there was another option that did not seem too hard, and that was being male. I'm lucky to have grown up in the situation that I did, such that I did see that as a valid choice. Of course it's always hard, but if you have to do it, try to do it in San Francisco, is what I mean. There is support here and I availed myself of it. I was male full-time by 18 or 19, and not before that only because I couldn't do it in school (long story).
I myself kind of doubted that it would work. I didn't think I would be any happier. But I was. I was so much more comfortable. My relationships with everyone became much more normal and relaxed. I was able to hold a job. I had always been told that I was miserable because I was clinically depressed, but that proved to be utterly untrue; I was in fact miserable because I was trying to be a girl. I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't experienced it.
I was astonishingly lucky to find a job where the hiring manager was also genderqueer (he was living female then but later went FTM), and was very sympathetic. But nonetheless this was a very sucky time because I didn't pass well, and wasn't on hormones because my mom didn't want me to -- before you rush to judge, I was living with her and she was dying of breast cancer. So I made that choice to accomodate her, hoping that she would grow to understand. I think given enough time she would have, but there were a lot of factors (and this is not a post about my relationship with my mom). She died before we settled it.
This was also the period when I began to be active in fandom, which of course is a very female-dominated space, so as a new person coming in I got a lot of probably undeserved attention because I was a boy. I didn't ask for it. You can possibly imagine what it felt like to see others occasionally get outed as being "really a girl" and "posing as a guy to get attention". Really, I don't know what the deal was with those people, whether they were FTM or questioning or what was happening. But it made me feel very trapped and unhappy in fandom, like if people knew "the truth" they would judge me very harshly. (Eventually I got fed up with that shit and outed myself, but that was much later and I was much less invested in what fandom thought of me then.)
After my mom died I was laid off from my job, and found myself unemployed and with enough money from the insurance to remain unemployed for a couple of years, so I went on hormones. I wish all trans people could transition without having to go to work or school at the same time, because my way was a lot easier... My only meaningful social contacts were online, so I pretty much got to experience the physical transformation without anyone watching that I didn't want to be watching.
When my then-doctor set me up with my prescription, he made a comment that surprised me, which was that this new venture seemed exciting, and might be "dare I say, fun". I wasn't exactly offended, but I was mystified. Being transgendered had never been fun. It was self-consciousness, fights with my mom, hatred from my dad, laughter from strangers. It was a disgust with my body that I admit I brought on myself. I berated myself that I would never be a real man, and therefore never good enough, not for me or anyone else.
I had actually put myself in an impossible trap: No one could love me because I was damaged and inadequate, and if they DID love me, there must have been something wrong with THEM. I'm not proud I thought this way, but I did.
So what went wrong?
For me, the box labeled F was a miserable trap. Escaping from it made me feel better. But what I did not realize for several years was that the box labeled M was a trap too.
I'm going to explain.
The thing I credit most with saving my sanity is reading Kate Bornstein's books. Ironically my dad gave me one of them ages ago, in one of his pretend-supportive moments. I wasn't ready to read it then -- I didn't believe what it was saying, which is that gender is so much more nuanced than those two stupid little boxes, and that transgendered people may kill themselves trying to measure up to what are in fact imaginary stereotypes.
Look at non-transgendered people -- imagine the women you know, the men you know. Do they all express their gender in the same way? One of Bornstein's examples that I loved was Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger -- both men, both masculine, certainly not feminine, but do they express their masculinity in the same way? There is no such thing as perfect gender expression or a perfect body, and aspiring to those things is a deadly trap.
This scared me and I wasn't ready to hear it. I -- and a lot of trans people -- invest SO MUCH in those little boxes. Our salvation!
In fact I've often felt trapped by the expectations of other trans people. There are still people who will really discourage you from accepting your feminine side (if you're FTM) or your masculine side (if you're MTF). More often people do this to themselves: It's nearly an expected part of the transition process that we go through a period of hypervigilance about being as MUCH the target gender as possible -- the stereotype of it, of course -- rather than as much ourselves as possible. Non-trans people all have masculine and feminine traits, why would trans people be different? (Of course there are issues with unlearning taught gendered behaviors that you may not want, which complicates matters, yadda yadda.)
Then there are political reasons that trans people pressure themselves and each other to conform to some imagined ideal... because we need an often uncomprehending society to give us rights. It is relatively easy to understand the concept of traveling from one box to the other, but not to understand that the boxes don't exist. We need them to believe that we are real, that gender dysphoria is real and lethal. It benefits us to present a simple, united front. But it does not benefit us to internalize these simplified beliefs.
I figured this out by reading and watching and listening, and by finally being in a healthy relationship with someone who loves me and does not use or manipulate me.
What I have found for me, personally, is that I need to identify as trans. It is not a "transitional" or temporary state of being, it is who I am and who I want to be. I am learning to cherish my experiences of gender that most people don't have. I'm learning to enjoy and cherish my body for what it is, the body of an FTM. Not an imperfect male body nor a mutilated female body, but my own particular and valid physical form.
I never imagined ten or even two years ago that this would be possible. I viewed being trans as a curse and a burden that would never be lifted. What a sad existence it was. But I'm getting better now.
