Posts Tagged ‘ Transgender ’

Guy friends and stuff

I’m reading a lot of books at the moment.  There are quite a few personal essays by transmen that recall their childhoods playing with the other boys.  Until the boys learnt that they weren’t meant to play with them.  I’m so jealous.  I had one male friend as a kid.  I didn’t make any more till University and even then it quite often had the sexual undercurrent running through it.  I kind of have male friends now.  I’m nearly thirty and I’m only just getting mates.

 

My friend M. was my next door neighbour.  I have one photo of him playing tea party with me.  He looks pretty much how I remember him.  Overweight and blonde.  I’m in a many-ruffled pink monstrosity of a creation, but I’m pretty sure that I’m wearing it over something.  I’m in dress-up.  Drag Queen age 4.  For his fifth birthday he got a stamp with his name on it.  I took it (I was a rather dominating friend as a child.  My friends now would probably say that that hasn’t changed).  While I was at school I stamped his name on my hand.  It was red ink.  Such a masculine name too.  No gender ambiguity about it.  I stamped it a few more times on my hand then worked my way up my arm.  Then I stamped the next arm.  I got my face too.  I had tattooed myself with a boys name in red ink.  Only it was my name.  I had taken it.  It was mine now.  My teacher asked me where I had got the stamp from.  I said it was mine.  She kept on asking me till I finally said it was my brothers.  I didn’t get a brother for another four years.  We moved house.  No more M. to play tea party with, boss around and steal off.

 

I went to a Catholic primary school that had predominately Italian and Greek students which meant that playground was divided neatly in the middle with boys on one side and girls on the other.  Not an actually physical line, it was never enforced, but it was there.  I was obsessed with the boys.  The boys that I couldn’t play with.  So that meant that I was boy crazy.  If you have a vagina and you can’t stop thinking about the boys that’s what you are.

 

It took me a couple of years to make friends with girls.  They were really nice.  I’m still in contact with a few of them.  I used to try and gross out the other girls.  I’d put snails on my face so they could crawl around.  When I grazed my knee I’d sit down, bend my knee and lick the blood off gravel and all.  The girls would go ‘Eeewww!’ but the boys weren’t impressed, they just thought I was weird.

 

Towards the end of primary school there developed an intergender game of ‘kiss and catch’.  No actual kissing was involved because eww, germs!  So it involved chasing someone with the supposed opposite genitals down kissing your hand and then slapping them with it.  I loved it.  The boys were letting me play with them and we were playing rough.

 

I was sent to a girls only high-school so I didn’t learn any social skills with boys there.  Hell, I didn’t learn social skills with girls either.  But around that age I did learn something.  If you have a vagina the boys will want to hang around you.  They’ll actually think that you are pretty cool.

 

Introducing….. (drumroll please)… the girl in the little top and little cut-off jeans (so short that my ass was escaping slightly) who would do whatever you want!!  I thought I was so awesome.  Looking back I think I actually scared quite a few guys, I was so sexually aggressive.  If you have a vagina you’re not meant to be sexually aggressive.  It freaks them out.

 

I realised when I was fourteen that I liked girls sexually.  My sexual fantasies (based on T.V. shows) kept on morphing and I’d end up being the guy fucking the girl.  Again and again and again…  So that meant that I was a lesbian.  Right?  What else could it have meant?  There were no words in my adolescent mind for someone with a vagina who wants to fuck other people with their cock other than lesbian.  So that’s what I was.  I didn’t know how to tell anyone so I asked my mum to shave off my hair for me.  Because that’s what lesbians do right?  They have no hair?

 

I still did my thing with the boys.  Because, you know, I kind of like cock.  A girl who puts out and likes to fuck girls?  I was their wet dream.  You need to keep in mind that I mainly met these boys through Catholic Youth Group… They weren’t my friends though.

 

When I went to University I kind of made male friends.  I say kind of because there was always the sexual undercurrent.  I was awesome because I was so overtly sexual/laughed at dirty jokes/took my top off in public.  If I wasn’t fucking them I was flirting with them.

 

Now I’m in this weird situation where I have male friends who kind of respect me.  Some are actually a bit intimidated by me.  Which is kind of awesome.  When I told some of them that I was Genderqueer and was talking about clothes a couple of them actually offered to take me shopping.

 

It’s weird.  There’s this group of people that I desperately want to be a part of and I don’t know how to interact with them because nobody taught me how.

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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.