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.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Intersectionality (a GeoPoem)

I am a transsexual woman.
     I need to love my body.
I am a singer.
     I need to sing.
I am a writer.
     I need to write.
I am a student.
     I need to study.
I am a Buddhist.
     I need to chant.
I am a wife.
     I need my baby to be happy.
I am a teacher.
     I need to learn as much as I can.
I am a work in progress.
     I need to stay positive and believe in myself.
I am a White person.
     I need to fight against racism.
I am a seeker of the truth.
     I need to let go of my attachment to lies.
I have the capacity to be happy.
     I need to fight for that happiness, and never give up on it.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Where Am I?

I am not here all that often, though I've been finding motivation lately. I'm on the web a lot, though, so where might you see more of me?

You can find a lot more content than I put here at my Facebook, though my privacy settings may frustrate the casual browser. Send me a friend requests, though. I'll likely add you.

I also have a twitter, and my handle is @transcreativity.

Those are probably the best places to see what I post on the web.

Liturgy For the Day After They Announced the End of the World

It's beautiful.
It's not ours.

Your stupid smart phone
Times a billion
Is destroying us.

Your dirty car
Times a billion
Is destroying us.

Your damned lies
Times a billion
Are destroying us.

It's beautiful.
Can't you see?

The sun, golden!
The river, dancing!
The trees, like shamans!
     Waving!
     Embracing!
     Staying!
     Swaying!

Us.
We're beautiful
We don't even see it.

The air.
You can't see it.
Still, it's beautiful.

Dance in it.
Glow in it.
Love it.
Embrace it.

God damn it,
Save us.
Love us.
Love me.
I love you.

Accept this gift.
Give it back.
Give it forward.

It's beautiful.

Monday, March 10, 2014

Damn!

Damn! Damn!
I missed the bus now.
Damn! Damn!
I missed two busses.

Standing here in the snow outside, I
Know that I will be late to work now.
Can't you see me pelt down the sidewalk
Praying for the change of signals?

Damn! Damn!
I missed that damned bus!
Damn! Damn!
There's two together!
Damn! Damn!
Maybe the second one?
Damn! Damn!
No, the second one dashed by.

Snow flakes reach their destinations.
Sun is blocked by clouds of snow.
Under the snow there must be crocus.
Under the ground there must be tulips.
I can't see them, they must be there.
All I'm seeing is the falling snow.
Damn it! When's the springtime coming?
Damn it! When's the next bus coming?

Damn! Damn!
I missed that bus now.
Damn! Damn!
There's a van getting towed now.
Damn! Damn!
I feel sad for them, but
Damn! Damn!
Here comes the bus now.