Transphobia is not the fault or responsibility or detransitioners btw. They’re just trying to be themselves like the rest of us. There’s nothing political about detransition.
To follow up from my post about being stealth I wanted to talk about a very unexpected change in people’s reactions to me being trans.
To recap a little, I feared and almost expected rejection from others, I feared being treated and seen differently, I expected ridicule even if it was not done openly. I lived in a small town at the time and would go through cycles of finding a friendship group and after a while there would be gossip and rumours and a tension in the atmosphere; I knew they had heard something and it made me uncomfortable; I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want to explain myself, I didn’t want being trans to be the forefront of who I was, I didn’t want to deal with people’s ignorance or intrusive questions, I didn’t want to have to explain it all yet again to people who just don’t understand, I didn’t want the attention, I didn’t want to deal with any of it. I just wanted to be seen as me and not through the lens of misconceptions and prejudices. Either I’d be outed, or I’d distance myself from that group before I was confronted or it become too uncomfortable for me. I felt stuck between being the novelty trans person or living stealth with the inevitable prospect of having my privacy snatched from me at any given moment. Not only did I hate being outed, but I hated that I had no control over the means that it was done, the language used, the explanation given.
The attitudes of those around me at this time were not pleasant. I’d start to pick up on little comments and in-jokes that were told, not to me directly, but in my presence; a thinly-veiled nod to the fact they knew I was trans. There was a sneering hostility to it, a sense that they felt they had some sort of power over me. There were always people around any given corner who knew me from years gone by that were all too eager to either call me out directly in front of people or who felt it their duty to secretly inform those who knew me that I, fully male-appearing, sounding and bearded by this point, was “really a girl, I knew her at school and her real name is x!”.
People rarely ever confronted or explicitly asked me about it but preferred to try and out me by force. There were two occasions I was held down by people as another rummaged through my pockets for my ID to confirm or deny their suspicions. There were times when friends would ask a question of the whole group, a question that was manufactured for me, that was unnaturally misplaced in the usual theme of conversation, with the intention of backing me into a corner, of observing my reaction, to see if I’d ‘confess’ or give anything away. There were times people grabbed my junk, times people touched my chest. There was an incident where someone used the handle of a walking-stick to hook between my legs, pull me to the ground and I saw as they watched to see if my reaction was proportional to having my testicles crushed. There were camping trips where I had to go home because every time I had to pee, someone would also have to pee and insist on following me; every time.
Of course, there were the rare more respectful people who would catch me alone and explain they’d heard something about me and ask if it was true. At which point I was able to say that something along the lines of yes, but I don’t like to talk about it and I’d appreciate if you could respect my privacy. Of course, they’d still tell others of their findings and the cycle of gossip and secret conversations would continue.
It felt like a dirty secret, it felt like people wanted to catch me out. It was like a game to them and it was a big deal when they had finally managed to managed to get the confirmation they were seeking and they had share this exciting information and compare notes with others. My humanity was completely lost in their quest to ‘expose’ me.
Years later and in a new, similarly sized town, I am no longer strictly stealth. Me being trans doesn’t really come up and is rarely relevant to mention, but I won’t go to any effort to hide it. Those close to me know, others may or may not, I don’t care. I have no issue speaking of my experiences where I see fit to do so. I might repost a trans related news story on my Facebook wall or I might casually mention experiences in a conversation that only a trans person would experience. Whether that leads people to think I’m trans or just an ally, whether they ask, whether they don’t ask, I don’t care. If they want to know, I’ll tell them, it’s not a big deal.
The most striking thing I have noticed since I have stopped caring and stopped treating it like a big deal (and I don’t doubt that a change in times has had some part to play in this) is that no one else sees it as a big deal either. I set the tone. I control how I am outed, the language that is used and the way the message is delivered. When me being trans is not prefaced as a shameful secret but rather nonchalantly and casually disclosed mid conversation the reaction has always been similarly nonchalant. People rarely have invasive follow up questions and are far more respectful. The majority of reactions are generally along the lines of “oh ok, cool" and carrying on with the previous conversation or a shocked “wait, what, you’re trans!?” for which my reply is a casual “oh yeah, didn’t you know?”. The confusion of thinking I’m planning to transition to female is a common and funny one t hat I have to clarify. The way I disclose leaves little room for opinion or judgement, it is just a fact about me. It’s just not a big deal and it is no longer treated as such by anybody else.
Strangely, as a side note, I’ve also found men tend to share their insecurities with me more. From things about their appearances (are my ears too big, is my nose weird etc) to insecurities about their dicks; from embarrassing cysts on their penises to micropenises and more. Since having surgery on my own penis I’ve suddenly become the person to disclose all your penis worries to which was certainly unexpected.
I just bought men’s deodorant today, it smells terrible but it gave me a ton of euphoria 😎😎
If you’re anything like me, then you don’t like sitting down and talking about your problems to other people before you’ve had a chance to sift through them yourself and figure out what exactly is upsetting you. When you aren’t sure which direction the conversation is headed (especially if the conversation is driven by your emotions, thoughts, and feelings) you sometimes feel like you’re complaining or burdening people…however untrue that is!
Sometimes, having personal space actually is helpful; sometimes having me-time or solitude begets productive contemplation. Other times, you just end up stewing, and it turns out you probably did just need to talk it out all along.
Please please please please check out Woebot.
Woebot is an app, a sweet, lil’ robot that offers sympathy, advice, and helpful coping tools for people who may have depression or anxiety, feel lonely, or who are struggling in general right now. Woebot is wonderful because he/she/they are a robot who you can talk to about your problems and receive advice or comfort any time during the day or night. Here’s what I love about “Woe”:
I’ve been using Woebot for a week now and I’m thoroughly impressed. Highly, highly recommend. Regardless of how difficult my day to day is, I at least feel better knowing I checked in on my own mental health every day, and I encourage everyone to do the same!
I’ll sit there like “is it really worth it to come out as trans? I’m not THAT dysphoric and it’s just a cause of stress for my parents…” before having my nightly breakdown over my arm brushing my chest and folding like a chair at the idea of being called “beautiful boy” 😔😔
I picked one hell of a January to do a dry one. I definitely wanted to be sober and as clear-headed as possible for it, though. Given some of what has happened and what I anticipated needing to process, I did give myself the leeway to break it with the plan to shift into February, but it looks like I’ve made it the finish line. I’ll honestly probably keep going, since I really do want to restructure some of my habits. I miss being able to meet my friends at bars, or have people over for a drink, but I’m definitely used to being on my own at this point. If not too used to it..I get a little nervous at what adjusting to being social again will look like but I’m trying to tell myself that’s not anything I have to worry about until that’s even a real possibility. And some of the major things I’m working through are making me get over some of that anyway. Definitely some welcome experiences in being present, despite my otherwise dull and very quiet living. Though I have to say, it’s kind of amazing how much I am able to just stare blankly into space and pace around my apartment and still not be as productive as I actually want to be despite having all this free time not drinking or smoking…
That said, my attention span has been completely decimated so..I guess i can’t be too frustrated with myself. It’s been a hard month after many, but there have also been some wildly surreal and sweet cathartic moments I get to carry with me forever.
On some daddys leather boy shit. 🏳️⚧️
I don’t want to look masculine. I want to look like a pretty boy.
Family hometown changuitiro
Can you imagine living in a world where people are just waiting on you to die like it’s some kind of competition to “out-live” you with mere ignorance? That is not inspired or healthy. And it’s really wrong. I am telling the truth, there is scientific proof, and I have my own friends and family. I have a birthday. I have plans for my future and my own opinions. My friend told me he was kind of like a girl, but I don’t think they’re transgender. Okay? So what is that supposed to mean? I have to associate myself with a cis male or I’m a threat to society? I have bow down to a cis male to live free? No - I don’t believe that. But I don’t know what they were told and basically it’s been five years and I just don’t think they made choices of their own free will. I literally feel as thought they conceded to what some other person told them to do. Not like some random person but like they didn’t have a choice in their appearance. It’s not a joke to me. If you’re gay then you’re a male who is attracted to other men. Gay men wouldn’t be attracted to me if I wasn’t male. There are a lot of traits that define your gender - not just your physical appearance (including sex organs). If you’re straight or a lesbian and you thought you had feelings for me - please re-analyze yourself because you might be being submissive out of ignorance and that’s sexist, that’s not a healthy sex drive. There’s nothing wrong with being platonic friends with someone who has a different gender or sexual orientation, in fact, I think it’s a great time for that because we can help each other grow and have great chemistry with people who actually learn from us and have the patience to learn ABOUT us. And you shouldn’t hesitate to be friends with someone of the same gender or sexual orientation… competition is not possible in a relationship with another human being. People feel embarrassed, confused and awkward all the time in relationships with new people. But if it’s with someone that really understands you and appreciates you, then the relationship will continue to make sense where others may never make sense, and that means you as an individual can continue to be yourself and mature and grow and get to know yourself. So that’s just ONE REASON why it’s great to have other friends who are transgender, gay, lesbian, queer, etc. if you are trans, gay, lesbian or queer yourself. Yes, we all struggle with this. It’s never the right time to rethink your life. You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. It’s hard to meet people who want to be accepting AND supportive. I find myself in that situation OFTEN. I am not a fictional character. Please consider my feelings even if we haven’t gotten to know each other. If we don’t have a choice that’s even more of a reason to be considerate of someone else’s feelings! I don’t know everything about what’s happening to me but I’m not the only person who knows what I do. It’s not the focus of my life or my work and I’m not afraid for my life but to be fair it’s not worth saying that anymore because I’m woke and I’m not going to be careless or make unnecessary and stupid choices. We as a community generally don’t, and I don’t appreciate feeling like I have a target on my back just because I’m fun and outgoing and smart. We are going what we can to enjoy ourselves and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not evil. I’m not living in sin. I don’t want to live in fear. I believe in my rights and I believe I’m entitled to equality. I am literate, for fuck’s sake. I’m not just a nerd and I’m not just a queer person. I have an entire life of my own. I’m not a lifestyle. I’m just being myself and I had the audacity to share my thoughts with people because I knew it was important information. If you don’t believe my it’s your loss, but stop persecuting LGBTQ+ people, feminists and non-white Americans. For your information I haven’t been able to come out officially and I still plan on attending a women’s college and getting married to a gay man and living in a house with my friends and being an artist and an activist, yadda, yadda, yadda. If you don’t think it’s important then maybe you are at a different place in your life, so, just respect my privacy instead of making assumptions and harassing my people.
me: sad and dysphoric
my solution: watch all my favourite top surgery reveals, 5+ year transition time lines, read all the comments
I made some trans memes based on my work experiences lol
Mcr turned me into a hot vampire *NOT CLICKBAIT*
It’s so wild to see so many people I grew up with, who I was friends with in elementary and middle school, hanging out with people who’ve said that trans people are disgusting, awful, unnatural abominations.
I really want to say oh, maybe they’re not like that, but to really be close to people with those opinions, you have to be pretty shitty yourself.
It just makes me sad.
Also I never post anything ever BUT I GOT TOP SURGERY HELLO????? 6 days post-op!!!