Posts Tagged ‘ gender identity ’

Christmas and the In-Laws*

So for the past three years we’ve been spending Christmas with my partners family.  This year when we walked through the door his dad seemed a wee bit startled when he saw me.  Which is pretty understandable when you compare how I look now to how I looked the last time he saw me.

 

 

His mum comes over and visits a couple of times throughout the year when she’s over this way on business so she was already used to my new look.

The major difference I noticed this year was what the guys called me.  His dad and his brother used mate/man/buddy and various other masculine phrases.  Not once did a feminine turn of phrase escape their lips.  It was kind of awesome.

The thing is, I haven’t told them.  His brother has enough mutual friends with us that I have told about being genderqueer that he might have heard from them but they haven’t been told officially.  They just took one look at me and started treating me the way they expect someone who looks like me should be treated.  Which was pretty awesome.

I’m pretty sure they think that somethings up but they are way too respectful to pry.  It’s why I like them so much.  They’ve noticed I’m a bit different and have adapted accordingly but will let me come out to them when I feel ready to.

So I enjoyed this Christmas.

On the other hand it was so ridiculously hot that I haven’t been wearing my binders as I would be absolutely sweltering.  I want summer to be over. 😦

Today it’s so hot that the breastages are producing the oily pre-milk stuff even though it’s been nearly three years since I weaned the child.  Bodies are gross.

 

*Not technically in-laws but it’s the easiest description of their relationship with me.

Answering Questions

For quite a long time now I’ve held the view that if someone challenges what you’re talking about and asks a question that you should be able to answer it. Sometimes you may need to walk away and look a few things up but you should be able to answer it eventually or admit that there might be something wrong with the view your expressing.

So last night I finally tell my significant other that while I came out to him as genderqueer not that long ago I think that in the future there might be even more changes. Actually I’m pretty sure of it. While I’m not at the stage yet where I’m ready to transition I am pretty sure that I’m Trans. Only I didn’t actually say that because I’m nailbitey wimpy/nervous/apprehensive/scared and stuff. He said it for me.

I’m so glad that (eventually after umming and ahhing and many deep sighs) I managed to get it out. It’s something that was weighing on me a lot and I really needed to discuss with him. While I’m not going to be doing anything major for over a year, I though he deserved fair warning. After all while I’ll still be ME, the ME that he fell in love with was female, not male. By not talking to him I felt that I was being dishonest, that I was hiding it and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. I don’t feel like that in relation to other people because, frankly, it’s none of their business. They’ll get told when I’m good and ready to tell them. Probably when I change my name. It is his business though.

So then the questions started. Now, don’t get me wrong, they weren’t at all inquisitorial! They were all prefaced with ‘I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, I’m just trying to understand…’ This is why I wanted to talk to him about it. I think that answering questions is actually a good way for me to formulate what my views on this whole process actually are. I need to work out why I need to do some things but not others and why I can’t do other things instead.

The more questions I get asked the more answers I have to give which means the more answers I need to work out.

That’s good. I like having answers. 🙂

It’s also really good to share a burden.

13 yr olds should probably not write songs. Unless of-course you are way better than me at songwriting

So, did you write songs when you were 13? Perhaps poems? Or, god forbid start work on a gigantic post-apocalyptic epic that you weren’t sure would turn into a five novel series or a movie?

Are you under 16? If so you should probably stop reading this post as it may make you all depressed and negative and stuff. Seriously. Stop reading kid.

Did you find that stuff when you were like two years older and look back and go ‘Holy shit! My God! Was I honestly that hideously naive and stupid?!? Like seriously, did I have learning difficulties two years ago?!?’

Now I horde all of my shit. I still have the diary that I wrote an entry in when Nelson Mandela got elected. It was all about how positive the world was and we actually have hope and how wonderful South Africa would be now. Ha. Ha ha. So every now and then I’d read something that I wrote a couple of years ago and I’d have my Holy Shit/learning difficulties/Naive Little Child moment.

So, when I started this blog I was all like ‘I’m genderqueer! Yay for me knowing what I am!’ Yeah, fucking right. You would have thought I would have learnt something by now.

When I was in my late teens (about a decade ago) I thought long and hard about whether I had the right gender. I decided that no, I would be as big a fail at being a man as I was at being a woman. I’ve evolved quite a lot since then. I was a reasonably sheltered teenager and my ideas about male/female/personhood have changed a hell of a lot. Heck, the worlds changed since then.

So, what I’m wondering now is, when I was so quick to label myself as qenderqueer why did I completely dismiss the possibility that I might be trans? I adopted the qenderqueer label before I’d even started properly investigating what being a transguy meant. I had rejected the trans label before I’d read any blogs, met any transguys or even formed any ideas about what being trans meant.

I’ve gotten to thinking, what were my ideas about transguys before starting this journey? What images/ideas have I absorbed from my surroundings about them that have formed the picture I have in my mind. I have two memories.
1) Boys Don’t Cry. I watched it while home alone (having moved back with mum) after a break up, when it was all stormy and dramatic outside, while suffering from PMS. Needless to say it was not a good experience. While I am glad I watched the movie there will never be a second time. Images that stuck with me: rednecks, violence, hiding, subterfuge, rape, murder and disaster.
2) Some Documentary Quite A While Ago. I think it was British. It was about several transgender people. The story I remember was about a couple that started out as two lesbians. One of them came to the conclusion that he was trans and started transitioning. His partner started transitioning too. With the hormones came a lot of fighting and they broke up. One of them regretted staring the transition process while the other one was quite happy with it. Images that stuck with me: doing something for someone you love because you’re too young/stupid to think for yourself, regret, heartache, hurting others, regret, unable to turn back.
3) L Word. I forget his name, but you know the one. Images that stuck with me: really bad dress sense, someone giving a blowjob to a prosthetic penis, heartache, black market T, breaking-up.

THREE INSTANCES. That was what I was basing my opinions about transguys on. I’m sure that there are more but those are the only ones that I can recall. THREE!!!!! So what made me think that I knew anything about transguys?

Oh, that’s right, I’m turning thirty next year and I’m still naive and stupid.

 

Update:  In full disclosure I feel that I should point out that while writing this post I went back and changed the word ‘retarded’ to ‘learning difficulties’.  While I felt slightly naff and overly PC doing so I did feel that it was necessary.  Changing a few words took me a few seconds and did not in anyway alter what I was trying to say in the post but leaving it as it was might have upset someone and ruined their day.

Raging

It was going really well. So well.

I have awesome friends. I got rid of most of the idiots a while ago.

But I swear, the next person who says to me ‘Oh, of-course! Gender is complete fluid. I’m gender-queer too.’ I am going to hit over THE FRICKEN HEAD.

Right, so those of you who know me, know that I will do no such thing. But seriously, I feel like screaming.

I’m really bloody happy for you that your in touch with your gender-queerness and enjoy being a feminine male or masculine female, really I am. But you manage to do it while still representing to the general public the gender that they expect you to display.

I am not a feminine male. Nor am I a masculine female.

I am a male/female, therefore I am both feminine/masculine.

I was so happy for a while there, I wasn’t getting angry at all. Shit.

Is the problem the definition, peoples understanding of the definition, or am I just being too precious?

Some days it almost feels that it would be worth changing my name (which I like and am comfortable with) and asking people to change pronouns just so they’ll take this shit seriously.

Damn it.

What Love Looks Like

So I told him. It took me longer than I thought it would to get down to it but I told him. He doesn’t really care about me being genderqueer and he cares even less about what other people think.

He doesn’t really get it though. He has such a sense of self and cares so little (if at all) about what other people think of him that he doesn’t really get what the issue is. He sees breast-binding as something that’s going to take up more time in the morning and doesn’t really get why I can’t just ignore them if I don’t like them.

It’s weird to think that there are guys out there who would be threatened by this. There are so many people who would freak at the idea of the person they love saying ‘You know that gender you thought I was? I don’t really think I am…’

Shit it must be crap being surrounded by people like that.

Yesterday I told a friend because I was freaking about telling my boyfriend. Her reply was ‘Oh, so you’ll be coming to university in a large guys hoodie and jeans then?’ (which is what I generally wear).

Something that I was stressing heaps about is a non-issue for those who care for me. I am so lucky.

The Magical Creature is Born!

When I was younger I created a blog. It was one of those ones full of crap that wasn’t that interesting. Just a place for me to let my friends know what was going on and put up interesting links. This ones different.

So recently I’ve been dealing with an issue. As most people in my age bracket do I turned to the interwebs. Surely in this day and age there will plenty of resources for me I asked? Not really. There’s a few but not a whole lot. So, I decided to blog my journey all the way from the beginning to drop just one more cupful of information into the puddle that will hopefully become a lake and one day a sea.

So what’s up? you ask. My gender is what. I had a haircut a couple of weeks ago and it’s started to trigger all sorts of emotions in me. Why I hadn’t gone back to short hair sooner, why I felt pressured to keep long hair that I hated, why I made excuses and lied to myself about wanting to keep it. I went out with my best friend last night and I wore a dress. It’s a dress that I wear a lot, I quite like it or I DID like it (past tense). That dress was fine with my longer hair but now that my hairs back to the way it should be, now that it’s RIGHT, that dress was just so very very wrong.

I’ve only been familar with the term genderqueer for less than a year but it’s SO ME! It explains why I’ve just never felt right in any of the other catogories/labels. I’m neither, I’m both, I’m all and nothing. I’m a biological female who displays feminine masculinity. I don’t care if you do a double take when I walk into the loo’s because out of the corner of your eye you couldn’t tell what I was. Actually, that’s a LIE. I do care. I’m a bit chuffed actually that you do a double take.

I’m going to do something that I’ve wanted to do since I was about 13. I wanted to get them to be like all the other girls, to fit in, because you were supposed to want them. Everyone, everything, every form of media told me that I should want them. When they came I didn’t hate them. They were just wrong. They were these lumps of meat on a part of my body that just didn’t seem to belong.

I’m going to start binding them.

Tonight I’m going to talk to my partner. I figure they deserve a heads up that I’m going to start looking different.

I’m a bit scared. I think I’ll have another shot before I go to bed to talk.

Tomorrow I’ll blog about how it went and where the title of the blog came from.

Toodles and take care!