Hello! I don’t fully understand what do you mean by “Boys don’t cry” so I didn’t include it in wallpaper. I hope you still like the results!
Like/reblog if you are going to use.
mentally, I’m yearning for a gf while listening to experience by lydovico einaudy with rain sounds
physichally, I’m patiently waiting for my exam to start so I can successfully fail it
Ain’t gotta be perfect, just give me a purpose to love
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 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 that 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.
watching movies together >>>>>
nblm and mlm only
I’m falling in love with my girlfriend 🥺💕
Soundtrack To My Life (18+) - Goodbye To You (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1015961883-soundtrack-to-my-life-18%2B-goodbye-to-you?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=hopefaithtrick&wp_originator=jH0vuBBlpATyJLxk%2Bvzqknq2agG8dnpThyaUXmj%2BD0OEQyxQTY7mYtiC3HJcF%2BkIL3m8Y51bg6N%2FZjo6pTJLWcODDoxjrvJyP8vU8HbB5xHF2Hs1hNFUgCv4RuKFpAjR Soundtrack to My Life is the continuation of Soundtrack to My Youth. Sam, Veronica and Bridget must now navigate themselves through adulthood, finding love and dealing with loss.
I made a semi-floral phone lockscreen with the Genderfaun flag AND with the genderfaun symbol that I believe was created by –> @nicprice127.
Ne’s at least the only one I’ve seen use the symbol, so correct me if I’m wrong!
Hope everyone likes it! Totally free to use and all that!
Professors should always be like SUPER open about the fact that they’re cool with gay people because otherwise you could end up with a kid like me knowing I’ll have the same professor for multiple semesters and like he’s kinda old so idk where he’s at so I just don’t wear my pride shirts on days I have his class and I’m sad.
Official photos coming this weekend 🌸
I’m reading The Great Gatsby for the the first time, and I just…
I cant explain why but Furbys are lgbt+ culture (Redbubble)