Posts Tagged ‘coming out

06
Mar
15

Personal Reflections on My Second Hormoneiversary.

I haven’t really done much reflective writing about my own personal experiences with transition in a long while. In a lot of ways, I feel like transition more or less ended once my name change was official. But I recently crossed a pretty much milestone: February 21st marked exactly two years of being on HRT! That seems like as a good a reason as any to look back on the good, bad, and otherwise that physical and social transition had brought, and give a little update about where my life is at this point.

Seriously, it's been two years?

Seriously, it’s been two years?

To give a quick background: I first started coming out as trans back in 2010, but didn’t feel like I was in a place where I was ready to make the decision about whether or not to transition. When I hit my 29th birthday in 2011, I kinda freaked out when I realized I had basically wasted my entire 20s in a life that I hated. I told myself that it was time to make a final decision about transition, and gave myself till the end of the year. Just after Christmas of 2011, I announced my decision to pursue social and physical transition to my tiny inner circle of people who knew about my gender. I spent the first half of 2012 coming out to people, getting comfortable with presenting as female, and having my first cycle of laser hair removal. I started seeing a gender therapist in the summer of 2012, and got approval for hormonal therapy around the end of the year. It took a few months to get in to see the endocrinologist, and I took my first doses of estrogen and spiro on February 21st, 2013. I was more-or-less “full-time” by the spring, and absolutely full time by the end of the summer. On October 21st, 2013, a court granted my legal name change.

 

Me, when I started hormones

Me, when I started hormones

We’ll start with the relatively easy to describe stuff— the physical changes. Well, after two years of estrogen, I can tell you that the changes to my body have been nothing short of dramatic. First and foremost (and in contradiction to most stereotypes), I’ve lost around 70 pounds. It’s difficult to tease out what parts of that are related to hormones and which are due to Crohn’s, but I wasn’t a little girl to begin with, so it’s pretty welcome. My breasts have grown, though not as much as I would have liked. I’m currently standing around at a 44B. I also don’t have quite as much nipple/areola development as I want. My ass, on the other hand, has grown to titanic proportions. Seriously, I went from someone with basically no ass to someone with a rather large ass. I’m pleased, though I wouldn’t mind a little more padding on my hips (and a bit less cellulite). I’ve lost a large amount of muscle mass, and most of my strength. I still have a lot more tummy than I’d like, but much less than I had. My face is much thinner, but my features are still somehow softer. My hair is thicker and healthier, and I’ve had changes to my hairline. My hair is also MUCH drier, and I’ve been able to go down to washing it once a week. My nails have gone to total shit, weak and brittle. My body hair has lessened quite significantly, and my skin is softer and thinner (and much more delicate). I get basically zero blemishes and blackheads now. The smell of my body has changed to something more “feminine”, or at least so I’m told. Oh, have I mentioned that I turned out to be pretty astonishingly pretty? As someone who avoided transition for YEARS because I was afraid I was going to be ugly, I still can’t entirely processes how that happened. But, it did. 🙂

Yes

Yes.

Emotionally, I still just (mostly) feel a lot more…right. There’s a kind of calmness from having the right hormones in my body, a sense of balance and alignment. I know that sounds super crunchy, but that’s really the best description I have for it. I seem to have some kind of monthly hormonal cycle that’s reflected in my moods. Three weeks of feeling normal, three days of being really bitchy and irritable, and them four days of being extra weepy and emotional. Beyond that, I’m certainly much more weepy and emotional overall, but it’s challenging to tease out how much of that is hormone-driven and how much of it is just not feeling like I have to fake the emotionally stunted behaviors of dudes anymore. I’m somehow even MORE physically needy than I was before, which is QUITE a feat. I constantly crave physical closeness and touch affection. After totally bottoming out for the first few months, my sex drive has made a slow comeback, but it’s considering more connected to being with someone else…my spontaneous interest in sex is still WAY before where it was before hormones. On the other hand (at least until recently), the orgasms are FUCKING MINDBLOWING. Seeing stars, can’t-move-or-think-straight-for-several-minutes-after kind of stuff. I can feel them through my whole body, and there’s a long, floaty afterglow. I’ve even managed to give myself multiples on more than one occasion! Unfortunately, one of the medications I’m on (not sure which) has robbed me of that recently, but I’m hoping it comes back soon! Things that people told me would happen that absolutely did NOT happen: suddenly liking babies and being attracted to dudes. I still find babies just as gross and annoying as ever, and, if anything, hormones have made me GAYER. Men have gone from “meh” to “EWW GROSS GET IT AWAY”. Weirdly though, I’ve found myself more attracted to certain kinda of butch girls. I think that’s as close to “straight” as I’m ever going to get. Overall, I’m just a much happier, more outgoing, more engaged, more present, more personable, more fun person. I’m just MORE of a person, and it feels amazing. I’ve gotten so many comments from people who’ve known me for years saying that I’m basically shining from the inside out, and that they’ve never seen me happier or more alive.

Gayness confirmed.

Gayness confirmed.

 

Socially, I’ve been very very very very very very very lucky. My friends have pretty much all been incredibly accepting and supportive, and I really haven’t lost ANY because of my decision to transition. I haven’t had to leave any organizations, or stop doing volunteer work. Family stuff…that’s more complicated. Amazingly, my dad has been super good about all of this. He’s been spot on with name and pronouns since I came out, and he really treats me like a daughter, and he’s not ashamed to be seen with me or to tell people about me. Mom…well, mom’s not doing so well. She was pretty downright shitty about it for the first while, and she still regularly gets pronouns wrong or uses my deadname. She’s also constantly critical of how I look, whether my clothes or hair or makeup. It’s nothing overt anymore, just all the subtle crap, and she’s still very clearly embarrassed/ashamed of me. Most of my extended family just wants nothing to do with me, and that’s no skin off my nose…I didn’t like most of them anyway. I’ve also made lots of new friends as I’ve become a more active part of the queer and trans communities, both in meatspace and online. At the same time, there’s definitely some distance growing between me and a number of people I consider close friends. I think it has a lot to do with the directions our lives are taking…I just have a lot less in common with cis straight people these days, even girls, than I’ve had before. It sucks, because I miss that closeness, but I suppose it’s the cycle of lives and relationships.

I fear this is how all my friends feel.

I fear this is how all my friends feel.

Romantically…well, weirdly, I never seemed to have any problems dating once I was really *out*. I know a lot of trans girls do, but I never really seemed to be hurting for people interested in going out with me. Even more shockingly, within the first year of being on hormones, I ended up in a serious relationship with someone amazing! I’m still pretty astonished that it happened that fast. We met in the summer of 2013 as a summer fling that turned into something a lot more. We’ve been doing the long-distance thing every since. Late last summer, after a whole lot of talking about our futures and how we felt about one another, we decided to get married. We initially planned the wedding in secret, but on Christmas day we announced it to the world— we’re getting married on May 30th, 2015!!!!!! I really couldn’t ask for more in a partner, and she makes me incredibly happy, and I’m so so very fortunate to have her in life, and I’m so excited to build a life with her. 🙂

It'll be like this, only WAY cuter. :)

It’ll be like this, only WAY cuter. 🙂

Professionally…that’s been an interesting journey. I left my industry job in August 2013 for graduate school. It was a decision made, in part because I knew i needed more education and credentials if I wanted to advance in my field, and in part because I wanted to secure a relatively safe environment to finish transition, and academia seemed like a good place for that. My goal was to get my PhD, do a clinical fellowship, and become a board-certified Clinical Molecular Geneticist. But something pretty unexpected about a year ago: I started getting noticed for my writing, and got my first contributor spot (at TransAdvocate). It seemed mostly like a hobby, but it was really cool to have thousands of people reading my writing instead of just my little clutch of readers that followed my blog. In July of last year, I got another shock when I was invited to join the staff of Autostraddle as a Contributing Editor. Since then, my writing has been getting more and more attention, and I’m finding it MUCH more rewarding than science has ever been. I’ve also been doing a lot of activist work here in Michigan, lobbying for LGBT rights. I’ve also really begun to the see the writing on the wall in the research world and realized that what I hoped to do with my career just isn’t feasible. So, I’ve decided to leave my PhD program with just a Master’s degree, and move to New England to be with my partner. My long-term goal to move to writing full-time, but in the mean time I’m looking for a hospital job or teaching gigs to keep the bills paid while I continue to build my portfolio. Again, I’m super lucky to have an awesome partner who is being VERY supportive and encouraging of my dreams of writing as profession. My current goal is to be making most-to-all of my income from writing/speaking/training within 3 years.

No joke. This is pretty much my life.

No joke. This is pretty much my life.

So, that’s pretty much it. Looking back to when I start hormones 2 years ago, it’s just overwhelming and amazing to see how much my life has changed, to see how much I’VE changed. Not just physically (though certainly there’s a lot of that), but how much I’ve blossomed as a person. I couldn’t have, in my wildest dreams, ever have imagined that this is where my life would taken me in just 24 months: soon to be married, successful and respected writing, on the verge of finally moving of Michigan. I spent a lot of time telling people that they shouldn’t expect miracles from transition, and that it can’t solve all of your problems. I stand by that statement: transition is a long, hard, complicated journey and there’s nothing intrinsic about it that automatically makes your life better. But it’s an amazing thing to be sitting here, looking at all I have and all I’ve accomplished, and fully realizing how powerful and life-changing letting your authentic self finally shine through can be.

 

My life...it does not suck.

My life…it does not suck.

 

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22
Feb
14

No Longer Blogger Anonymous , or “Hi, my name is Mari, and I’m a blogger.”

So, as I promised in the last post, here’s where I tell you all who I am.

My name is (legally) Amara, but pretty much everyone calls me Mari (which is pronounced Mar-EE, not MAIR-ee, or muh-REE). My middle name is Brighe (pronounced Bree). I’m 31, and I live in southeast Michigan. I’m a 1st year PhD student at a local university medical school, studying Molecular Biology and Genetics. Before that I spend 5 years working as a medical laboratory professional, and I’m board-certified by the American Society of Clinical Pathology. I studied biochemistry and film history/theory as undergraduate. I’ve (kind of disappointingly) lived in Michigan my entire life. I own a little house of my own that I share with a very needy jerk of a cat named after a famous female scientist, whom i love to pieces.  I’m in a relationship with someone who makes me very happy.

I’m tallish for a girl, chubby, with a mess of frizzy/curly hair dyed purple with bangs that are constantly in my face, and I wear nerdy hipster glasses. I’m fairly extensively tattooed and constantly adding more. I’m not overly caught up in butch/femme labels or rigid limits on how I present. My hair is pretty much always up in a ponytail/pigtails/bun/braid, and I’m usually in jeans and a t-shirt. But, I have my goth girl moments, my punk rock hard-femme moments, my sexy librarian moments, and every so often, I even put on a dress (but I need a damn good reason for it).  Oh, and I have a minor obsession with Doc Martens (and by obsession, I mean I own at least a dozen pairs).

I’m very openly queer, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere in the blog. I tend to simplify to “lesbian” or “gay” when talking to straight folks who don’t much experience with queer issues, but I think both words have a lot of political baggage associated with them, so “queer” is my preferred term. I’m also a neurodiverse person- in particular, a high-functioning autistic/Aspergerian- and I do put effort into educating/advocating for the understanding and acceptance of neurodiversity (and gods help you if you mention Autism Speaks in front of me).

I consider myself to be an intersectional feminist; I’m a firm believer in the importance of diversity and inclusiveness in the feminist movement, and in examining/understanding how other forms of oppression and privilege interact with sexism and patriarchal control, particularly racism, classism, heterosexism, and cissexism.  I’m most active in advocating for abortion rights/body autonomy, economic justice, and fighting human trafficking.

I keep a pretty busy life. I’m a full-time PhD student and Graduate Research Assistant, and I do some contract consulting work on the side. I’m also a professional DJ and electronic music performer, and I sit on the Board of Directors of an educational non-profit. I’m also a very active member of the Midwest science-fiction convention community- I generally attend 5-7 conventions a year or more and I consider the convention community to be my family. And of course, I’m an active trans, queer, and feminist advocate. I also read prolifically, dabble in photography, and love to travel when I get the opportunity.

And because I promised, here’s a photo (taken today, even!):

Mari2-21-14

This feels like it’s just about the most boring post I’ve ever written, and I apologize for that. I’m not actually very good at talking about myself, and I think it shows here. But, there you have it…I’m officially de-anonymized!

[For safety sake, I’ve chosen to not share the city I live in, or the school I attend. I’m choosing not to post my last name to the blog because quite frankly, it’s ugly, and because I respect the privacy of the rest of my family who’d prefer I not call attention to them via my writings.]

24
Jan
14

Nine Things to Know If You (or Someone You Care About) Are Struggling With Gender Identity, or “These are the things I wish I could go back and tell 20-year-old me.”

For a big portion of the trans population, our teens and early twenties are when the first really big struggles with questions about our gender identity start to happen. Sure, most of us spend a lot of our childhood being vaguely (or not so vaguely) aware of something being “wrong” or different”, but puberty and sexual development seem to have a way of throwing a pretty harsh light on those feelings. It can be pretty lonely and confusing time, and it’s easy to feel completely lost and overwhelmed by the situation. After all, it’s not as though we’re likely to have a bunch of other friends struggling with these same sorts of issues to lean on, and I don’t think there are many other issues that shake the core of your identity quite like questioning your gender. Often, we’re terrified to admit these feelings to even ONE person (it took me until I was 20 to actually talk to someone about it). Back in those days (the early 2000s), internet information about being transgender/transsexual was pretty scant and stereotyped, and I remember not relating to a ton of it, which made me feel even more lost and confused.

These days, of course, trans people of all stripes are making their voices heard on the web. You have only to look at my extensive (yet not even remotely exhaustive) blogroll to get a sense of that. I wrote a while back about the importance of trans success stories, and why each of our voices is so important. But, as I approach my 1 year mark on HRT, I began to think about the sorts of things that would have been helpful to hear from someone when i was 20 and struggling to understand the mess of thoughts about my gender. Furthermore, I’ve come to realize that supporting a person struggling with gender dysphoria can also be a challenge, particularly if gender issues are something that are very new to you. It’s very easy to feel lost for words when trying to support trans people, especially if you aren’t trans yourself.  So, in light of all that I came up with nine simple, but important thoughts that I believe are important for anyone (young or not-so-young) to hear if they’re dealing with gender dysphoria:

1. Feeling dysphoric about your gender does not mean you’re a sexual deviant or a pervert. Trans people often have to endure being labeled deviants by the transphobic public because of the uninformed (and flat-out WRONG) belief that cross-gender/gender-dysphoric feelings stem from “immoral” sexual desires. Nothing could be further from the truth- gender dysphoria stems from a mismatch between your physical body and your brain’s expectations. I think if most cis-folks took a minute to think about how they’d feel if they woke up one day in a body of the other sex (I’m guessing they’d be pretty damn freaked out), they’d understand the immensely stressful feelings we struggle with every day. A fair amount of good science also exists to support this brain/body mismatch. Sadly, the media has a tendency to portray us in a very unflattering light and pornography and trash television have only retrenched these horribly misguided stereotypes. But it’s important to understand that gender dysphoria is a very real medical/psychological issue! As a corollary, experiencing gender dysphoria does not mean you’re just “gay and confused” or anything else about your sexual orientation. Sexual orientation and gender identity are completely separate concepts, and trans people are gay, straight, and everything in between (and only you can decide where you fall on that spectrum).

2. Everyone’s pathway to understanding their gender identity is different. This one was perhaps one of the hardest things for me, personally. There’s an awful lot of literature floating around that says things like “you’re only a trans woman if you’ve felt X, Y and Z.” These are misleading and bordering on cruel. We’ weren’t all super-feminine children, nor are we all feminine now. Not all of us experience our dysphoria as a specific dislike for our genitals. The unifying experience is the discomfort with the sex we were assigned at birth…the rest is as unique as we are. Your path is your own, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

3. Everyone’s pathway to and through transition is different. This is a follow-on from #2, really. Some people are ready to start pursuing transition as soon as they’ve accepted that they’re trans. Some people aren’t. Some people live part-time or full-time in their preferred gender before starting medical transition. Some people are on hormones for a year or more before they venture out presenting as their preferred gender for the first time. Some people push through their social transition quickly, and others take a bit longer road. Some people choose to have surgery, and some do not. ALL of these things are normal and acceptable! Just because your path and progress differ from someone elses doesn’t make your trans experience or gender identity less legitimate.

4. Gender dysphoria has deeper effects on your emotional health than you realize. Living in a body that feels wrong is exhausting. You’ve been dealing with those feelings for a long time, so it’s easy to chalk them up to just “normal” life for you. But, there’s a good chance that your dysphoria is slowly and insidiously eating away at your mental stability. There’s anxiety associated with trying to “fit” or “pass” in a gender that doesn’t feel natural. There’s the self-esteem hit you might be taking from looking at a body that feels wrong, or maybe even ugly to you. And worst of all, there’s a constant, gnawing depression stemming from the stress and discomfort that dysphoria brings while your brain is being washed with the wrong hormones. Your subconscious is expending lots of energy dealing with these things, and that’s a recipe for some serious problems with your emotional stability Bringing the mind and body into alignment through transition does WONDERS for mental health, and you’ll be astounded by how much the anxiety and depression drops off as transition progresses. (That being said, transition is NOT a magic cure for all emotion problems, and there’s a decent chance that you’ll still have underlying issues to work through once the gender issues are taken care of.)

5. You are probably more attractive than you think. This is was one of my single largest mental roadblocks to transition. The image you see in the mirror every day conflicts with your own internal conception of what you SHOULD look like…that’s enough to screw with ANYONE’S self-esteem! Add to that the likelihood that you’re focusing on the traits that make your face/body feel too masculine/feminine for your brain-sex, and you’ve got a recipe for some pretty harsh judgements about your appearance. Give yourself permission to explore, to find out what the preferred gender version of your face and body might look like. And even more so, give yourself permission to feel attractive. You probably are!

6. People who truly love and care about you will support you. Yes, there’s a risk in sharing your gender identity with people. It’s terrifying, and when you’re looking at those first few conversations, it feels like you’re risking everything! People might be shocked at first, or need a little time to process the situation. But if you come armed with information and resources, and you’re genuinely reaching out to someone with something this personal and important, chances are- if they’re a person who loves and cares about you- that they’ll become a supporter. And if you don’t have any friends you feel this way about, it’s time to make some. You’re going to need them over the course of transition. Admittedly, family (especially parents) can be a much more complex situation, and those don’t always go quite as smoothly. But, if you’ve chosen your friends well, they’ll stand by you during your journey. And if they don’t, well, they weren’t worth having around anyway. I’m constantly impressed by just how accepting the people in my life have been of my transition.

7. It’s really lonely in the closet. When you’re closeted about your gender identity, you’re hiding part of yourself from those around you. You’re putting up a false front so that you can survive in the world, hiding your true self deep inside. While this keeps us safe, it also means we’re essentially always alone- we’re never sharing all of our real selves with others. Embracing your gender identity and coming out helps you be more present in your relationships, both friendly and romantic, by letting go of the gap we tend to maintain between our true selves and the false front identities we construct to inhabit our assigned genders. It can actually be pretty overwhelming at first if you aren’t prepared for it! I didn’t realize just how much I kept other at a distance until I started transition.

8. Transition happens a lot faster than you think it will (once you get started). Standing at the opening of the metaphorical tunnel that is transition, it often looks daunting to the point of being overwhelming. It feels like it’s going to take FOREVER, and that you’re going to be stuck in that terrifying middle ground for longer than you can bear. It’s not true. If you set measurable goals and stick with them, and focus on making progress, you will flabbergasted at how quickly you’ll be standing on the other side going “Holy shit, did that really just happen?!”. Yes, some of those months of the process are going to suck, and you’re going to feel like it’s TAKING SO LONG, but things pick up speed quickly, and each step drives the next until one day you realize that there aren’t any more steps, and all that’s left is living the amazing, genuine life you’ve built for yourself.

9. It’s okay if you aren’t ready to transition (or if you’re never ready). Transition is a BIG step! There are lots of things you need to have in place. It’s financially burdensome, emotionally taxing, and it has far-reaching consequences for all kinds of scary real-world stuff like jobs, housing, and more. It can take a while (sometimes a long while) to have all things you feel you need lined up. That’s okay! You’re ready when YOU’RE ready. And for some people, transition just isn’t the right thing for them. That’s okay, too. You should still seek out counseling and do whatever it is you can to mitigate your dysphoria, but it certainly doesn’t invalidate the dysphoria you’re struggling with. Whatever it is that works for you is right FOR YOU!
As I mentioned, this list isn’t just for trans people- it’s for anyone who considers themselves an ally to the trans community. Pre-transition folks are often those who are in most need of love and support, and these nine things might be some of the most important things you can share with them as they try to find their path.

04
Jan
14

On Stealth in the Trans Community, or “How I accidently slipped into invisiblity, nearly lost myself, and came out wiser for it.”

The concept of stealth is oft-debated and fairly controversial topic within the trans community. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept, the general connotation is the idea of living one’s life without disclosing or acknowledging their pre-transition life. In the most classic sense of the term, it generally refers to a transwoman who- after GCS- does everything possible to erase evidence that she had ever been male-assigned and never discloses it again, often asking family to lie/conceal their pre-transition life, and/or otherwise completely cutting off from those who had known them before transition. As the trans community has evolved, the notions of just what exactly is and is not “stealth” have become far grayer. Can a non-op transwoman go stealth? Is it stealth if you deny your trans status to everyone but your romantic partner? What about simply blending in and not explicitly mentioning one’s trans status to casual acquaintances? Perhaps most importantly, given how trans people are treated in society, is going stealth really such a bad thing? I previously discussed the problem of disclosure to one’s sexual partners, but this issue is far thornier, and my views have definitely evolved as I’ve moved through my own transition.

Defining what exactly “IS stealth” is complicated, and the breadth of opinion within the community appears to be fairly wide. For me, I tend to put the dividing line at “active deception”…that is, you venture into “living stealth” when you’re starting to actively lie. Again, I know there’s some gray area here, after all, most would argue that an lie of omission is still a lie. But, to me, I don’t feel that we have any requirement to disclose pretty much anything about ourselves (and I mean ANY of us, cis or trans) to complete strangers or casual acquaintances. Quite simply, everyone is entitled to keep private what they feel is personal, private information.  The wonderful folks over at TransAdvocate did quite a fantastic series on stealth over the summer that hit on a lot of my general feelings on the matter, and this piece from Cristan Williams hits the nail right on the head. She writes:

Not telling the grocery sacker that you’re trans is not stealth. Trying to get your parents to lie to your new boyfriend is being stealth. Not telling every co-worker in the building that you’re trans is not being stealth. Not telling your best friend is being stealth.

There are tend to be generally two major camps of opinion regarding the acceptability of going stealth: those who believe it’s a completely reasonable thing to do given the current climate of transphobia, and those who hold that stealth is a betrayal of the queer (particularly trans) community. For those who hold to the acceptability of stealth, one of the primary arguments is often that being trans is mostly a medical problem, and once that problem (one’s incongruent assigned-at-birth sex) is corrected, there’s no longer any need to identify or come out as trans. Other simply argue that if you have the ability to do so (owing to one’s attractiveness, ability obtain GCS, etc), then why should you? One the other side, there are many who believe that slipping into a stealth life deprives the trans community of much needed visibility. After all, many of the large gains in LGB acceptance are due to the visibility and personal relationships that LGB folks have developed, and this has been born out in numerous polls. Additionally, some argue that the trans community is often the only support available for trans people- especially early on their transition, and that the voices of those who have successfully transitioned are sorely needed as examples and role-models for those just starting out, and therefore to “turn your back” on the community that supported you is unacceptable. Of course, the arguments on both sides of this issue go considerably further, but that’s pretty much the gist of it.

For me, I spent much of the early part of my transition firmly in the “stealth is not okay” camp. I’m definitely not at all ashamed of being a trans woman, and I feel that being visible and vocal IS the best way for us to make progress for our teeny-tiny majority. Of course, it’s also an easy thing to say when almost everyone around you has known you before and through your transition. I was lucky enough to have very supportive friends who stuck with me, so I didn’t really encounter the choice to not disclose my trans status. Even new people in the early days who only knew me in a female presentation were always aware that I’m trans right off the bat. I’m not going to say that I ran around in public wearing a giant “HEY EVERYBODY, I’M TRANSGENDER” sign, but as I’ve mentioned before…I don’t think not telling every single stranger has anything to do with stealth (after all, no one tells every stranger in the street about what their genitals look like!).

As it turns out, the chance to get a fresh start can give you quite a shift in perspective. When I left my full-time career job to return to University for my PhD, I suddenly found myself in an environment where nobody knew anything about me. A few of the faculty were aware, as I hadn’t yet finished changing my name, but other than that I was just some random, shy new girl to everyone else. For the first few weeks, I was DEAD sure everyone knew I was trans and that I was totally delusional about this “fresh start” business. But, as I slowly drew up the courage to converse with classmates (particularly the other girls in my program), I realized that I had quietly slid into cis-assumption. And, I have to admit…it was really, really nice. No Trans 101, no awkward stairs while people try to pick out the incongruencies that would give aware my birth sex, no avoidant or hesitant conversations. At times, I’d begin to wonder if someone had finally picked up on something that would get me clocked, but then I’d be feeling unwell and someone would ask if it was my ‘time of the month”, or something along those lines. I even once made a major slip and mentioned my complete avoidance of Catholic hospitals because of my fear of being left to die, to which my wonderful classmate said “Well, it’s not like you HAVE to tell them that you’re gay!”. So as the weeks stretched into months, the idea that I HAD to tell everyone that I’m a trans woman slowly drifted to background…it became easier to just skip around the potential issues and make the small revisions to my personal history to make it congruent with what they perceive of me. Initially, I chalked it up to “oh, well, I don’t know these people! It’s none of their business!”. Once I got to know a few people better, I told myself that I was just protecting myself…life was already stressful enough in grad school, why should I risk making it worse by coming out? About two-thirds of the way into the semester, it really hit me- I had edged into the gray outer reaches of stealth. While I’m not asking anyone to lie for me, I am being revisionist about my personal history for the sake of “passing”, and that’s definitely active deception.

Again, I just kinda put it to the back of my mind for a long while, as I had numerous other personal stresses to deal with at the time. For the a good portion of the semester, I had actually put pretty much ALL thoughts about trans/queer/feminist issues and most of my activist tendencies on hold so I could focus completely on brutally difficult core classes in my PhD program. However, as I reached the last few weeks of Fall semester and my brain gradually unfogged from the extreme studying, I realized how much I missed all of that…which in turn led me to serious examine my being semi-stealth when it comes school. I have to admit now, that I’m bothered by my behavior. Sure, I’m being visible for queer women (which is, of course, important!) as a whole, but my stealthy-ness isn’t do a damn thing for the trans community, and that’s not at all like me. I feel like I’m bending to will of cis-society, being a “good” trans girl by not making a fuss and quietly going about my business. Furthermore, it really started to erode my personal identity…I wasn’t being ME; I was being the person that society wanted to be. And it happened EASILY…it’s the path of least resistance in many sense. And as I said, I even enjoyed to an extent. It’s forced a major shift in my perceptions of stealth and those who choose it.

I still definitely want people to not be stealth…I do think it’s harmful on a personal level, and I’ve now personally experienced how easily it can start to erode your own identity. But even more, I want to live in a world where no one ever feels like they HAVE to go stealth, where trans people are just as loved and accepted as anyone else. I’ve previously harbored some pretty negative feelings about stealth trans people, and certainly made some fairly negative statements about them. And for that, I’m sorry. Being trans is among the most difficult situations that can be thrust upon a person, and anyone who manages to survive it and live a life that makes them happy should be celebrated…even if they choose to distance themselves from our community. If stealth is way that makes your life happy and livable, I support you. If being out and proud is what makes you happy, I support you and stand with you. To that end, I’m ready to start being more visible. I’m ready to shake people’s perceptions of what a trans woman is, and to be a success story in the sciences that we really need. I’m scared to death to do it, but I know it’s only way to really do what I set to do when made the decision to transition: to live my life genuinely as the real me.

24
Jun
13

A Period of Adjustment, or “Sometimes our friends just need some fricking time to get used to the idea.”

Coming out. It’s one of those hallmark processes of transition for the vast majority of us. It’s a process that’s often fraught with complications and awkwardness for everyone involved. For those of us doing the coming out, there’s a ton of stress and anxiety about the how, when and where of those conversations, and even who to have those conversations with. A lot has been written around the blogosphere about all of those items. But I think something equally important to consider is how the process of coming out affects those around us, and to give them the time and space to process the information if necessary.

Let’s get one thing out of the way. Some people are just going to be shitty and stay shitty, no matter what. I think some of us probably are lucky enough to have nothing but supportive people in their lives, but I imagine that’s the exception, not the norm. When we start the process, I believe it’s very important to be prepared for the possibility that some people in our lives will never be able to accept our transition and remain a part of our lives. Whether it’s the standard transphobic nonsense, an inability to process a change this significant, or some other personal hang-up, it’s just a reality given the state of our culture when it comes to transgression of the accepted “norms” of gender. For people like this, there’s just a point where we have to throw up our hands and let go. Education and patience will only get you so far, and eventually you are just wasting your time and emotional energy. But I think with a little patience, many people who may initially have difficulties accepting that their friend or family member is transgender will eventually come to some degree of acceptance and support.

One of the first things that we as trans folks need to remind ourselves is that no matter what, we have always had MUCH longer to process our gender identity than those around us. For most of us, that process goes on for years with tons of introspection, learning, and exploration long before we share that journey with anyone else. Our friends and family members don’t have the benefit of that experience, and many times aren’t privy to that portion of the journey at all. I know that for myself, that entire process was intensely personal and private, and I’m still not overly comfortable sharing it almost anyone. So when the facts of someone’s gender transition finally come out (generally, along with that person’s coming-out), I’m sure it came seem quite sudden and even jarring to many.  Building on that, for those of us actually doing the transitioning, the facts of a transgender life are our everyday immediate reality, and in some respects, they become relatively mundane to us fairly quickly. But it’s important to remember that those around us, having a transperson in their life, with all the complications that it brings, is a completely new experience. And for a large portion of people, new is almost universally scary and confusing. What I’m getting is that those in our circles may need a period of time to adjust to the “new normal”, as almost all of us do when something major changes in our lives, and we need to learn to be okay with that.

I think, though, that the heart of some of the trouble we experience when coming out have a lot more to do with identity more so than experience. For many of the trans community, our identity when presenting as our assigned-at-birth sex is largely a construction, a convenient facade we built and held up for years so that we could function relatively without hassle in the world. There are often facets of our real selves woven into it, but it’s just not really the person we are inside. But we put a great deal of care into those constructions for our own personal safety (and I think many of us thought we’d hold onto them forever at one point). The problem is, everyone involved in our lives developed a relationship with that facade, without every really knowing what was going on underneath. So while we may feel relieved and excited to cast aside that construction and let the “real us” shine through as we transition, people important to us have attachments to that identity and all that it entails. They have memories with and of that person, stories that they share about them, and a relationship they feel they understand with them. For many, it can feel like their friend, spouse, child, etc has died, and they will feel the need to mourn that person. And I feel that that is totally normal, and that we as a community need to make allowance for it. I’m not saying we all suddenly become completely new and different people and there was nothing genuine about us before transition. But often there’s enough newness once we embrace what we feel inside and slip off our masks that the analogy rings pretty true. And really, I think that that kind of attachment is meaningful and it should touch us- it means that we are important, and we did well in cultivating that relationship. I truly believe that once our loved ones can understand how important transition is, and how much it’s improving our lives, they will more often than not be able to embrace the changes and hold onto that relationship.

If we aren’t willing to try to understand the complicated emotions that may surface when we come out to those we care about, then we put the relationships that could enrich our lives and ease the burden of our journey in jeopardy. I know that most of us are almost constant on guard for rejection so that we can harden ourselves to it before it has the chance to do much damage. So, when we see loved ones struggling to understand or cope with the realities of the changes we are going through, we’ll tend to see rejection and instinctively push that person away. Sadly, this tends to only worsens the problem. After all, who wants to put effort into understanding someone who isn’t willing to put in that same amount of effort for you? Now we’ve possibly lost a relationship, and the community has lost a potential ally, all for a lack of patience and empathy on our part. And really, is that exactly what we’re usually asking for from our friends and family members when we come out- patience and empathy?

Ultimately, I think what is needed is to realize that the coming-out conversation is a two way street. As much as we might not like to admit it (or just plain sometimes forget!), in coming out to someone, we’re asking for something big of them. We’re asking them to re-align their personal conception of who we are, and in many ways, to let go of someone they may have loved very deeply. I’m not saying we’re out of line for asking for these things…I believe that it’s a reasonable thing to ask from someone who cares about you once they understand the severity of the situation. What I am saying is that everyone deals with big things in their own way, and we owe it to the people who love us to give them the time and space to process it in way that works best for them. If we can give them a little patience and empathy, I suspect we’ll get it back in spades.

07
Apr
13

1st In The Family, or “I’m really good at dancing around an issue all night.”

So I came out to my brother today. Like, sat down in person and had the big talk. Well, first I had to meander around just bullshitting with him until like 1:00am before I could finally get the words out of my mouth.

Mind you, I’ve been wanting to do this for well over a year. And I had the entire discussion planned out for almost a year. But he kind of ran into some life issues, and I didn’t feel like it was the time to burden him with what I was going through. I wasn’t overly worried about his reaction…my brother’s gay, and I was the first person he came out to. I just really wanted him to be the first family member I told. Anyway, I’d been trying to nail the kid down for like 3 months, but our schedules never really seemed to coincide. Today, I finally managed sit him down for a chat.

I really hate coming out conversations. Even when you’re relatively confident that someone will be accepting, it’s still nerve-wracking as hell. So yeah, I’ll admit that I completely dodged the issue for hours. In the end, I managed to get it out, and he took it completely in stride. Though, he was a little pissed at me for “winding him up”. I had prefaced seeing him with “having something really important to talk to him about,” and that was more than a month before we actually got to talk. So, he was worried that it was “something serious like cancer”. So, I suppose it’s a good sign that the fact that his big brother is really his big sister is “not so serious”. The bigger point is that he’s willing to be there when I have to have this conversation with my parents in case things get ugly. And that means the absolute world to me.

And really, if my brother is the only person in my family who is willing to accept me, I still think I’m ahead of the game.




A blog about nerdy things, feminist thoughts, and queer/trans life. It's full of rants, opinions, and personal stories. I don't claim to speak for absolutely anyone but myself. Read at your own risk.

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