Q: How did your family take it when you came out? If you are not out, why aren't you?
Yeah, they know about me now. The reaction has been predictably mixed and to some degree inscrutable. I expect I will know more in coming weeks when I travel to Texas and then Colorado to visit family around my Mom's birthday. My brother Michael was immediately supportive. Mom sounded supportive at first (with a few caveats), then took a nosedive around the time that Chaz Bono came out, but has come around to being fairly accepting.
Family in Texas is a little bit of a mystery to me, they're all very hardcore Christians and I haven't heard much from most of them, with the exception of one cousin who is guardedly welcoming. I have pushed the issue with her probably a little more than is necessary (talking about sin, etc.) but in my mind it comes down to are we both the same people we've always been? That's hard to answer. I think on some levels we are, though we have both been through a lot of life since we both lived in the same town as kids and she was my favorite person in the entire world. I just can't help but look forward to seeing her, no matter how anxious I am about it.
The rest of the family there really is an unknown quantity. None of them have reached out to me, but to be fair, I haven't reached out either. In fact, I realize that I am not officially out to many of them for that reason. My sense is that right now I am not well thought of in certain circles, but I won't know that for sure until I cross that Rubicon.
Colorado family is somewhat a different story. There is the same Christian history and activity, but it's not quite as pervasive there, and I know that in some circles I have been and will be welcomed. There are, however, those in that branch of the family who have not sought me out and likely won't. I could expend a lot of energy fretting and regretting, but I am not going to. I will talk to and, if allowed, embrace any and all of them.
I'll be more upset if my mom or my brother are taking any flak on my account. That will be harder for me to forgive.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Friday, September 12, 2014
Determination
Q: Have I ever been outed?
I feel like I out myself every day just by how I look and how I sound, but...
As for anyone "blowing my cover," I have to say that in general, my friends have been supportive and considerate. Also, as time goes on, my concerns about being read and/or being misgendered lessen slowly.
Where I've had trouble it's been with strangers, a couple of times early in my transition when I was most vulnerable, and once with someone who was an acquaintance but not a friend. Being read is bad enough. I often try to avoid this by telling people I'm trans right up front. Worse than being read is when someone clocks me and then feels the need to announce that they've done so to their friends. This has happened 4 times that I can recall.
They'll have some sort of facial twitch that lets me know I've been read, but then they'll "discreetly" tell their friends about me. One example is when I was in line at a burrito place and the guy who was making my lunch looked up at me, smirked, then looked down at his work, giving the guy working next to him a little nod and said "Es un hombre."
Subtle!
Another time I was out at a coffee shop, intending to sit there and read for a bit. I ordered an iced coffee, and as the guy behind the counter looked startled for a second. This was really early in my transition, so I hadn't learned to recognize that look yet. I found a table and sat down to my book. A few minutes later, I heard a commotion from the back room: two guys were laughing. I knew something was up but I had decided by this time that I wasn't letting people's ignorance stop me, as I had for all my life up until then. As I was walking out a bit later, the guy who had served me my coffee quickly raced back to find his friend, but I didn't wait around for them to gawk at me.
Still another experience along these lines happened at the Whole Foods near my electrologist's office. I'm a former employee of that company (which wasn't very trans friendly when I worked there) and when I walked in, I saw a former coworker, and I could tell that he recognized me. I said "hi" and went on with my shopping. I thought nothing of it, other than that it was good to see him, but the next few times I came into the store his name would be called over the PA almost as soon as I entered the store. He also began posting anonymous comments on my blog, which are still there, somewhere. I knew it was him.
All of these incidents happened early in my transition. They don't seem to happen any more. I think there are two reasons for that. One is that the incongruence between my appearance and my presentation has subsided a great deal. I have curves, I've pretty much killed my beard, the texture of my hair has changed, and my skin has softened. You have to work a little harder to see the evidence of testosterone poisoning. The other reason is the increased visibility of trans people in general. I have to express my gratitude to people like Laverne Cox, Janet Mock, and Jenny Boylan for their efforts on behalf of all of us in the trans community. Their support, their articulate and dignified presence, and their willingness to advocate for all of us has made a huge difference.
I have one more experience to tell you about. It was the first time I was ever outed. I was in the early days of working out my gender issues with the help of a therapist. I had not begun HRT yet, but I was taking my first tottering steps into womanhood. I had just started going out into the world in the clothing of my true gender. It was a step I had to take, even though it was really scary for me. I had always been very worried about the 70 bus. That's where this happened, one of the very first times I rode on it dressed as me. It was a cold day and I had on my new jacket, and that's what started things off. There was a teenaged girl sitting behind me with her boyfriend.
"Hey," she said, loudly, "that's a girl's jacket." I thought for a second about responding, I half turned around but then thought better of it. She shouted at me again, repeating herself. I didn't react. I was scared of a confrontation, and I was on a crowded bus. What would happen if I got into a "situation?" As humiliating as it was, as done as I was with taking crap for being who I am, I just sat there. We got to Central Square, I stepped off of the bus, and that was the end of it. It was a relief and a little bit of a victory.
I feel like I out myself every day just by how I look and how I sound, but...
As for anyone "blowing my cover," I have to say that in general, my friends have been supportive and considerate. Also, as time goes on, my concerns about being read and/or being misgendered lessen slowly.
Where I've had trouble it's been with strangers, a couple of times early in my transition when I was most vulnerable, and once with someone who was an acquaintance but not a friend. Being read is bad enough. I often try to avoid this by telling people I'm trans right up front. Worse than being read is when someone clocks me and then feels the need to announce that they've done so to their friends. This has happened 4 times that I can recall.
They'll have some sort of facial twitch that lets me know I've been read, but then they'll "discreetly" tell their friends about me. One example is when I was in line at a burrito place and the guy who was making my lunch looked up at me, smirked, then looked down at his work, giving the guy working next to him a little nod and said "Es un hombre."
Subtle!
Another time I was out at a coffee shop, intending to sit there and read for a bit. I ordered an iced coffee, and as the guy behind the counter looked startled for a second. This was really early in my transition, so I hadn't learned to recognize that look yet. I found a table and sat down to my book. A few minutes later, I heard a commotion from the back room: two guys were laughing. I knew something was up but I had decided by this time that I wasn't letting people's ignorance stop me, as I had for all my life up until then. As I was walking out a bit later, the guy who had served me my coffee quickly raced back to find his friend, but I didn't wait around for them to gawk at me.
Still another experience along these lines happened at the Whole Foods near my electrologist's office. I'm a former employee of that company (which wasn't very trans friendly when I worked there) and when I walked in, I saw a former coworker, and I could tell that he recognized me. I said "hi" and went on with my shopping. I thought nothing of it, other than that it was good to see him, but the next few times I came into the store his name would be called over the PA almost as soon as I entered the store. He also began posting anonymous comments on my blog, which are still there, somewhere. I knew it was him.
All of these incidents happened early in my transition. They don't seem to happen any more. I think there are two reasons for that. One is that the incongruence between my appearance and my presentation has subsided a great deal. I have curves, I've pretty much killed my beard, the texture of my hair has changed, and my skin has softened. You have to work a little harder to see the evidence of testosterone poisoning. The other reason is the increased visibility of trans people in general. I have to express my gratitude to people like Laverne Cox, Janet Mock, and Jenny Boylan for their efforts on behalf of all of us in the trans community. Their support, their articulate and dignified presence, and their willingness to advocate for all of us has made a huge difference.
I have one more experience to tell you about. It was the first time I was ever outed. I was in the early days of working out my gender issues with the help of a therapist. I had not begun HRT yet, but I was taking my first tottering steps into womanhood. I had just started going out into the world in the clothing of my true gender. It was a step I had to take, even though it was really scary for me. I had always been very worried about the 70 bus. That's where this happened, one of the very first times I rode on it dressed as me. It was a cold day and I had on my new jacket, and that's what started things off. There was a teenaged girl sitting behind me with her boyfriend.
"Hey," she said, loudly, "that's a girl's jacket." I thought for a second about responding, I half turned around but then thought better of it. She shouted at me again, repeating herself. I didn't react. I was scared of a confrontation, and I was on a crowded bus. What would happen if I got into a "situation?" As humiliating as it was, as done as I was with taking crap for being who I am, I just sat there. We got to Central Square, I stepped off of the bus, and that was the end of it. It was a relief and a little bit of a victory.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Me Chama Diane
Q: How did you choose your name, and what names were you thinking about using and why?
I've talked about the process of choosing my name before, and the associated weirdness based on there being a cousin of mine with the same name. To summarize, I picked my name when I was 6 or 7. My Dad always told me that if I had been "born a girl" (surprise! I was!) I would have been named Mathilda, after the Australian national anthem. I didn't want to be Mathilda (which felt very old fashioned and uncool and not me), so I decided to change one letter in my former middle name and go by that instead. I've been "Diane" since then. I legally changed it in December of 2011.
Addendum: My old name is actually my Mom's family name, also changed by one letter. She wanted me to carry on her family name since hers disappeared when she married. I sympathize but I hate that name and I don't like hearing it and I am not typing it into this post.
Sorry Mom. Sincerely. I understand your feelings, but this is my life. I deserve to be happy and at peace with myself, if it can be managed.
*The Portuguese in the title of this post is there because I am learning that language now. It makes sense to me to do that because this post is about the words we use and how they relate to our identity.
I've talked about the process of choosing my name before, and the associated weirdness based on there being a cousin of mine with the same name. To summarize, I picked my name when I was 6 or 7. My Dad always told me that if I had been "born a girl" (surprise! I was!) I would have been named Mathilda, after the Australian national anthem. I didn't want to be Mathilda (which felt very old fashioned and uncool and not me), so I decided to change one letter in my former middle name and go by that instead. I've been "Diane" since then. I legally changed it in December of 2011.
Addendum: My old name is actually my Mom's family name, also changed by one letter. She wanted me to carry on her family name since hers disappeared when she married. I sympathize but I hate that name and I don't like hearing it and I am not typing it into this post.
Sorry Mom. Sincerely. I understand your feelings, but this is my life. I deserve to be happy and at peace with myself, if it can be managed.
*The Portuguese in the title of this post is there because I am learning that language now. It makes sense to me to do that because this post is about the words we use and how they relate to our identity.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Discovering My Trans Identity
Q: When did you realize the term "transgender" referred to you?
I am flippin' old.
That's not a complaint, it's an observation I'm making as I think about answering this question. It comes to me because my awareness predates the first time I heard that term by decades.
I'm not going to go through my whole intake interview with Fenway Health (that was a hard, heart-wringing hour, and we barely scratched the surface!), but maybe I can bullet point a little? I've always been female identified. I have never been comfortable with a male identity as applied to me, and when I tried to live under that burden I hated me every day. I felt like a failure. I felt wrong. It was like an ever-present low grade electric current running through my body. I didn't want to be touched. I felt disgusting, always. I would have these little moments where somehow I would be in a feminine context one way or another and the whole earth would shift on its axis and the Sun would come out and shine down warmly. And then I'd feel guilty and foolish and sad again. It was kind of unbearable, more so as life went along. I never had any hope or any faith in myself. That's slowly changing now...
The other approach to this question is to talk about the first time I heard that particular term. Sadly, I don't have a specific memory about hearing the word "transgender."
Like I said, I'm flippin' old. What I remember is Dr. Renee Richards, the ophthalmologist and professional tennis player, who transitioned in the mid seventies and fought to be recognized as a woman by the United States Tennis Organization so that she could participate in tournament play as her true self (she won.) The word I heard was "transsexual," and I knew immediately that it applied to me. I also heard everyone around me saying the most awful things about her. And though they didn't know it, I heard every one of those remarks as being about me.
After that, the kinder, gentler umbrella term we use now was hardly difficult to hear.
I am flippin' old.
That's not a complaint, it's an observation I'm making as I think about answering this question. It comes to me because my awareness predates the first time I heard that term by decades.
I'm not going to go through my whole intake interview with Fenway Health (that was a hard, heart-wringing hour, and we barely scratched the surface!), but maybe I can bullet point a little? I've always been female identified. I have never been comfortable with a male identity as applied to me, and when I tried to live under that burden I hated me every day. I felt like a failure. I felt wrong. It was like an ever-present low grade electric current running through my body. I didn't want to be touched. I felt disgusting, always. I would have these little moments where somehow I would be in a feminine context one way or another and the whole earth would shift on its axis and the Sun would come out and shine down warmly. And then I'd feel guilty and foolish and sad again. It was kind of unbearable, more so as life went along. I never had any hope or any faith in myself. That's slowly changing now...
The other approach to this question is to talk about the first time I heard that particular term. Sadly, I don't have a specific memory about hearing the word "transgender."
Like I said, I'm flippin' old. What I remember is Dr. Renee Richards, the ophthalmologist and professional tennis player, who transitioned in the mid seventies and fought to be recognized as a woman by the United States Tennis Organization so that she could participate in tournament play as her true self (she won.) The word I heard was "transsexual," and I knew immediately that it applied to me. I also heard everyone around me saying the most awful things about her. And though they didn't know it, I heard every one of those remarks as being about me.
After that, the kinder, gentler umbrella term we use now was hardly difficult to hear.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Why Trying to Explain How I Shouldn't Feel Dysphoric Won't Work.
Dysphoria is a symptom.
I'm not trans because I hate my gender. Actually, I'm pretty happy about my gender.
No, the problem arises because gender is invisible. Because gender -- as opposed to sex -- is defined within a person, by means we don't fully understand, we can only determine a person's gender by what each of us genuinely expresses based on our subjective understanding of ourselves.
Because the culture we live in values objectivity over subjectivity, people like me, who define ourselves as something other than what any quantifiable standard dictates, find it very difficult to defend our feelings, or justify any pronouncement we might make about who we are.
That is the source of dysphoria. Because I have a lifetime of not being able to reconcile my internal reality with how the world sees me, I am dysphoric.
I was essentially invisible for most of my life. It was traumatic, every day. Because I was asserting an indefensible belief about myself, I also doubted. How could I be a girl? Girls have vaginas. I have a penis. That's what I thought, even as I found myself deeply uncomfortable with male aggression and insensitivity, and only felt happy and in any way at ease with myself when I was socializing with other females, even as I rebelled against my body and the changes I went through in puberty (I used to cry in the shower, praying to a God I believed in less and less to change my body to what I thought it should be, and to go through female puberty instead of what was happening to me), even as I got more and more depressed as I went through my teenage years, and into a twilight zone of denial and avoidance through much of my "adulthood." I wanted to be anyone other than who I was, anywhere other than where I was, because I couldn't possibly be who I felt myself to be. Anything was preferable to how I was living. That was how my dysphoria manifested in my life. I hated myself, both because I couldn't be who I felt I was, and because wanting to be myself was impossible and foolish and, by the standards I was raised to, morally and logically wrong.
So, because I am trans, I hate being seen as the gender that is not mine, because a whole lifetime of experience has forced me to be associated with it. It's like everything in the universe has conspired against me. Dysphoria is a type of PTSD. Dysphoria is not reasonable. It does not respond to logic, not least because logic has always indicated that I couldn't possibly be who I actually am.
Trying to explain to me how something that has aroused my dysphoria actually shouldn't make me feel that way is exactly the wrong approach to take with me. My situation defies reason, at least any of the common reason available to an imperfect objective understanding. Telling me not to feel the way I feel brings up all of the old horrible feelings I have always had. It makes me wrong to feel the way I feel. It drives me deeper into a depression I have not completely overcome, and may never be entirely rid of.
You can't "cure" me. There's nothing for me to be cured of. I am as I have been made, and that will never change. You can't take away this suffering. You can't explain how I shouldn't feel the way I feel. The only way for you to help me deal with my dysphoria is to support me as I struggle to cope and to move forward in my life.
Sympathize. Empathize. Don't negate.
Trying to explain to me how something that has aroused my dysphoria actually shouldn't make me feel that way is exactly the wrong approach to take with me. My situation defies reason, at least any of the common reason available to an imperfect objective understanding. Telling me not to feel the way I feel brings up all of the old horrible feelings I have always had. It makes me wrong to feel the way I feel. It drives me deeper into a depression I have not completely overcome, and may never be entirely rid of.
You can't "cure" me. There's nothing for me to be cured of. I am as I have been made, and that will never change. You can't take away this suffering. You can't explain how I shouldn't feel the way I feel. The only way for you to help me deal with my dysphoria is to support me as I struggle to cope and to move forward in my life.
Sympathize. Empathize. Don't negate.
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