Hi boys and girls! lets talk about sex!
This post contains mature information about sexuality, specifically my own. I'm currently not sure if I have to put some kind of 18 plus flag on this blog because of it, or if I should have to re-word it. I feel like the majority of information in my blog should be available to anyone.
I'm in a pretty bad mood when this topic comes into my mind, because it's something I've been fighting with myself about for a long time. Please excuse the frustration, sarcasm and bitterness of this post. In all honesty, I'm really really angry.
Let's start with the basics. Autogynephilia. The theory of autogynephilia was brought on in response to the idea that transsexuals were human beings, deserving respect. This theory suggests that transsexuals or at least transsexual lesbians are perverts, who want to enjoy their own female bodies, instead of someone elses. Us narcisistic "shemales" lust so intensely over the idea of becoming women that we take medicine to alter our bodies. Nevermind the notion that gender dysphoria in males would cause this to be a regretful and painful decision. Nevermind that sexuality is different for all of us. We're transgenderists, not transsexuals, know the difference.
I'm guilty of autogynephilia. I admit it. I have, on occasion, become sexually aroused by the thought of reaching my status of womanhood. I'm guilty of getting the occasional arousal out of the changes that my body has made due to hormone therapy. My first experimentation with being female, was in a sexual role playing situation. Most of all, I'M TIRED OF QUESTIONING MY VALIDITY AS A WOMAN BECAUSE OF IT! Autogynephilia has never been my reason for transitioning, I've cried, contemplated suicide, gone into deep bouts of self loathing over my identity, even during my transition. Because of womanhood I'm finally comfortable in my own skin, I'm finally free and happy. I'm finally able to enjoy real life without pretending I'm someone else, but because I've experienced moments of autogynephilia I'm not a real woman. I'm a transgenderist. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of doubting my identity, not because I'm conflicted about what I want to be known as, or because I have any reason to change my mind about being a woman, but because my sexuality makes womanhood NOT OKAY.
I am a lesbian. I'm attracted to other women. My gender identity and my sexual orientation take me in the same direction, so is it really THAT ABSURD to think that maybe, just maybe, the lines between the two get blurred? Am I guilty of some crime against womanhood? Am I a narcissistic pervert over a side effect that occurs maybe once in a few months, for less than a few minutes? I rarely look at myself in the mirror, and when I do most of the time, I think I look pretty damn disgusting actually. Even when I don't it's hardly ever sexual, I'd much rather look at another woman, than at myself.
Now, we've covered the basics, let's move on to our next closely related topic. Transvestitic fetishism. Transvestitic fetishism is the notion of sexual arousal derived from decieving people into believing you are a woman, while being a man. Clearly being a man means having a penis and wanting it, so if any woman is conflicted about sex reassingment surgery, and may deside to keep their penis for any reasons non medical, such as, gods forbid, actually enjoying it during sex.
I enjoy the idea of penetrating other women. God forbid I make the most of what I have for the time being. I prefer a partner who enjoys this as well, must mean a tranny chaser, and not someone who just enjoys my unique sexuality. I'm offended by this too, because people forget that there might be something in between tranny chasers and people who see me as a cisgendered women. I DO NOT WISH TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE COMPARING MYSELF TO A CISGENDERED WOMAN. Lastly, I'm exited by the idea of a woman who has a penis and is comfortable with it. (do you know how difficult this is for me to confess to the whole internet? do you know how many of my friends read this?) It's not because its dirty, seedy, or naughty, its because its unique, different. But I thought men had that fetish, so this must make me a man, with transvestitic fetishism... even if I prefer to look at said women, as just women, with a unique sexuality, and loathe the swath of stereotypes, gender ristrictions, and degradations associated with it. NEVERMIND it might be just my sexual attractions, and that my gender identity might be no less valid.
Incidently I'm actually conflicted about sex reassignment surgery. I'm more or less between just getting an orchiectomy and getting the whole thing. I'm about 100% sure I want an orchiectomy, but I don't know the medical, benifits, vs risks in getting only an orchiectomy. I've heard sex reassignment surgery has a 50% chance of abolishing all feeling in the sexual organs and this is why I'm leaning against having a complete sex reassignment surgery. Outside of sex, I'm quite uncomfortable with my sex organs, and am certain I'd be content with a vagina. If I was born a cisgendered woman, I'd probably be the type to have fleeting "penis" fantasies, but nothing worth doing drastic changes to my body.
My bottom line, is that the term transgenderist, and dehuminization of autogynephilia from WITHIN THE TRANS COMMUNITY, is unecessary, and hurtful. We have the term androgyne already to describe persons who fall between the binary of male and female, and this term, is respectful because IT ALLOWS PEOPLE TO KEEP THEIR SEXUALITY PRIVATE. We have acknowledged that the majority of trans persons do not experience autogynephilia. What every source, every place of acceptance, ever thought pattern on the internet fails to recognize, is people like me, who have been hurt, and have spent many nights crying about this term. Call me a pervert, a sicko, call me disgusting, call me an animal. But don't you dare call me a man, an androgyne, or anything other than a woman.
THIS IS WAR ON THE TERM TRANSGENDERIST. I BEG YOU AND IMPLORE YOU TO CORRECT ANYONE WHO USES THIS TERM STARTING TONIGHT.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Society of the Damned
A few days ago, a friend I've met at the clinic said something that struck me. She said, that transgender people, particularly transgender women, have developed, a sort of "culture of victims" as she put it.... That sounds harsh, and i didn't like how she put it... but it's true. Victim hood has become a part of our lives, especially male to female trans women. It's not entirely our fault. We didn't ask to be stereotyped and marginalized and treated like trash. But look at myself, I actually felt guilty for having it easier.
I felt guilty for not being forced on the streets, homeless, selling myself or selling drugs. I felt guilty for not being beaten or raped, for not being completely abandoned by my family. I felt guilty for getting money through social security and getting help. Why? Because other transsexuals have it the way I didn't. I still feel guilty about this, actually, but when I think about it, this mindset is something we need to get ourselves out of.
In a more negative fashion, some girls who have had it rough, I've heard look down on others for not going through the same punishment they did. They haven't had the proper hard-knock life it takes to EARN your way to womanhood in this modern day society. I guess I can understand this mentality too, as perhaps, subconsciously, without even realizing it, I've been guilty of it, feeling some kind of jealousy towards girls who've had it easier than I.
This mentality needs to stop. We are women, we are men, we are born in the wrong body. Being transsexual means we have a medical condition, that effects us in psychological ways. We are not our condition, we are not our past, we are individuals. We don't deserve to be tortured and raped and ridiculed to acquire the same birthright that other people take for granted, but the only way to stop this mentality from spreading is to talk about it and understand why its happening.
I made a poll for my blog because I want to know who my readers are. I know a number of my trans sisters, are reading this and showing their support, and I also know that a number of friends I've made throughout my journey have done so too, and I thank you all and hope you'll keep reading. But I'm hoping this reaches out to someone who's not trans, or who is and is feeling hopelessness as I used to feel. If this blog changes at least one person, I'll feel its a success. If my struggle, or maybe in the future, the struggles of others I can connect you with, can change at least one person's way of thinking, maybe transsexualism, will eventually, just be a condition. So I want to hear from non trans people, I want to know what they think, what they believe, and if anything I've said so far changes anything. Please don't think I don't appreciate the support of my fellow trans women however, as sometimes your comments have really helped me get through a lot of this.
I felt guilty for not being forced on the streets, homeless, selling myself or selling drugs. I felt guilty for not being beaten or raped, for not being completely abandoned by my family. I felt guilty for getting money through social security and getting help. Why? Because other transsexuals have it the way I didn't. I still feel guilty about this, actually, but when I think about it, this mindset is something we need to get ourselves out of.
In a more negative fashion, some girls who have had it rough, I've heard look down on others for not going through the same punishment they did. They haven't had the proper hard-knock life it takes to EARN your way to womanhood in this modern day society. I guess I can understand this mentality too, as perhaps, subconsciously, without even realizing it, I've been guilty of it, feeling some kind of jealousy towards girls who've had it easier than I.
This mentality needs to stop. We are women, we are men, we are born in the wrong body. Being transsexual means we have a medical condition, that effects us in psychological ways. We are not our condition, we are not our past, we are individuals. We don't deserve to be tortured and raped and ridiculed to acquire the same birthright that other people take for granted, but the only way to stop this mentality from spreading is to talk about it and understand why its happening.
I made a poll for my blog because I want to know who my readers are. I know a number of my trans sisters, are reading this and showing their support, and I also know that a number of friends I've made throughout my journey have done so too, and I thank you all and hope you'll keep reading. But I'm hoping this reaches out to someone who's not trans, or who is and is feeling hopelessness as I used to feel. If this blog changes at least one person, I'll feel its a success. If my struggle, or maybe in the future, the struggles of others I can connect you with, can change at least one person's way of thinking, maybe transsexualism, will eventually, just be a condition. So I want to hear from non trans people, I want to know what they think, what they believe, and if anything I've said so far changes anything. Please don't think I don't appreciate the support of my fellow trans women however, as sometimes your comments have really helped me get through a lot of this.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Silence
So it happened just like that... Donna found me a tab on a piece of paper that had some phone numbers for a room for rent in the same neighborhood. Now I'm living in a room all by myself, which is a bit stuffy from the heat, and the carpet is a little stained, but is otherwise, quite comfortable. I can't get the internet running on my Xbox360, and I'm waiting to get my pc repaired, and in the mean time, I feel really, really alone.
I've reached a point in my transition where I pass more easily, though not fantasically. I'm at a point in life, where my family is coming to terms with who I am. My mom and grandpa saw me for the first time in my female clothes, and they hugged me, and I feel a little more comfortable around them. They are still calling me by my boy's name, and using male pronouns, but they are beginning to realize that it is in error. My life is moving forward in strides, and some of them I thought would never achieve reality... so why do I feel so sad as I'm typing this?
Honestly I know why I'm sad, I'm asking myself rhetorically. I'm lonely, and scared, in a new house, with new people, the landlady and her tenants are friendly and warm to me, even given what I am, but with no internet, my world has been completely severed from me in this foreign place. No friends all the time, and most of all, no girlfriend. I feel like I fell off the world into a new life, as Sara. My former roommate is still nearby, and we're still best of friends, but she's got so much going on that I don't feel comfortable calling her, I just don't know what to say to her.
The feeling of loneliness is worsened by the terror I feel of my neighbors. The next door neighbors give me all the usual stares, and they have a bunch of rough looking teenagers that congregate outside their house. The tenant in the room next to mine, with her little girl, is more or less a stranger to me, and I'm afraid too, that ignorant of my reality, she thinks me to be some kind of pervert, or freak. I wonder if she fears that I'm a danger to her daughter or something. I'm not used to being thought of in that way, by anyone I have a chance of meeting again. I guess I should get used to it since I'll be going back to school soon.
My ID finally arrived just before I moved with a problem attached, my middle name, was misspelled with two a's and I now have to turn it in to fix the problem. Yet another burden to overcome. The room was previously a disaster, but I've turned it into something a little less monstrous, now that I've organized it a bit. I'll have an old computer set up soon and hopefully I'll have the internet back, and then this move won't be as painful. Until next time, that's all the news about my own life. Sara
I've reached a point in my transition where I pass more easily, though not fantasically. I'm at a point in life, where my family is coming to terms with who I am. My mom and grandpa saw me for the first time in my female clothes, and they hugged me, and I feel a little more comfortable around them. They are still calling me by my boy's name, and using male pronouns, but they are beginning to realize that it is in error. My life is moving forward in strides, and some of them I thought would never achieve reality... so why do I feel so sad as I'm typing this?
Honestly I know why I'm sad, I'm asking myself rhetorically. I'm lonely, and scared, in a new house, with new people, the landlady and her tenants are friendly and warm to me, even given what I am, but with no internet, my world has been completely severed from me in this foreign place. No friends all the time, and most of all, no girlfriend. I feel like I fell off the world into a new life, as Sara. My former roommate is still nearby, and we're still best of friends, but she's got so much going on that I don't feel comfortable calling her, I just don't know what to say to her.
The feeling of loneliness is worsened by the terror I feel of my neighbors. The next door neighbors give me all the usual stares, and they have a bunch of rough looking teenagers that congregate outside their house. The tenant in the room next to mine, with her little girl, is more or less a stranger to me, and I'm afraid too, that ignorant of my reality, she thinks me to be some kind of pervert, or freak. I wonder if she fears that I'm a danger to her daughter or something. I'm not used to being thought of in that way, by anyone I have a chance of meeting again. I guess I should get used to it since I'll be going back to school soon.
My ID finally arrived just before I moved with a problem attached, my middle name, was misspelled with two a's and I now have to turn it in to fix the problem. Yet another burden to overcome. The room was previously a disaster, but I've turned it into something a little less monstrous, now that I've organized it a bit. I'll have an old computer set up soon and hopefully I'll have the internet back, and then this move won't be as painful. Until next time, that's all the news about my own life. Sara
Friday, February 20, 2009
A victory and A defeat.
I'm now 24 years old. I mention that because my birthday was this month, on the 9th. I didn't do much on that day that was out of the ordinary. I saw my grandpa in the morning, and went over a friends house to play Dungeons and Dragons, because I'm nerdy that way. It was a big day I guess, it was my first real birthday as Sara. I had to spend part of the day dressed as a guy, because of Grandpa, and looking back on it, I kind of regret not asking him to see me the day before or after, I wish I didn't spend such a significant day dressed like that. I didn't get time to really freshen up after either so again, I spent the afternoon getting "he, err she sorry" from some of my friends.
That however, was not the most significant day of the month, for me. Rather the real big day was when I brought the form, signed by my doctor to the department of motor vehicles, and got the go ahead for a new Drivers license, which for me right now, basically just serves as a California ID, with my real name on it. Sara Marquilla Ross, F. My soon to be real name. Later that day however, I went to the bank to discuss changing my name there. I thought I wouldn't have a problem since it's a private organization, why should I need a federal name change? They told me since the bank is regulated by the government, I'd need the papers for a court name change. This seems utterly silly to me, since If I was opening an account, they would probably only ask for a picture ID, that said, my picture ID has not come in the mail yet, so I can't do anything yet anyways. I'll have to be more persistant about a court name change now that I've got my cellphone back.
My roomate and I have been going through some hell lately. Her bf broke up with her over personal things, but it turned out to be partially the result of a forced intervention on the part of his family. He got back together with her when he had the chance to speak to her in private, only to shortly after be kicked out of his house temporarily because his father over heard them on the phone. Her number was deleted by his family from his phone list but he re retrieved it easily. The shock and stress of this series of events has worn both of us down heavily, though I can only imagine what she's been going through. I personally hope he arrives here soon, I dont have issues sharing a room with a guy actually, though I think the feeling I've overstayed my welcome will become even worse. I've been looking on craigs list for housing options and I'm thinking of posting myself that I need a room... but I'm afraid of dangerous situations emerging from this, as I've heard the horror stories of what happens to girls like me, who come forward with what we are to a stranger. I couldn't live in a situation where I had to hide my transsexuality though, I just don't pass clearly enough and even if I did I wouldn't really feel safe...
Sara out.
That however, was not the most significant day of the month, for me. Rather the real big day was when I brought the form, signed by my doctor to the department of motor vehicles, and got the go ahead for a new Drivers license, which for me right now, basically just serves as a California ID, with my real name on it. Sara Marquilla Ross, F. My soon to be real name. Later that day however, I went to the bank to discuss changing my name there. I thought I wouldn't have a problem since it's a private organization, why should I need a federal name change? They told me since the bank is regulated by the government, I'd need the papers for a court name change. This seems utterly silly to me, since If I was opening an account, they would probably only ask for a picture ID, that said, my picture ID has not come in the mail yet, so I can't do anything yet anyways. I'll have to be more persistant about a court name change now that I've got my cellphone back.
My roomate and I have been going through some hell lately. Her bf broke up with her over personal things, but it turned out to be partially the result of a forced intervention on the part of his family. He got back together with her when he had the chance to speak to her in private, only to shortly after be kicked out of his house temporarily because his father over heard them on the phone. Her number was deleted by his family from his phone list but he re retrieved it easily. The shock and stress of this series of events has worn both of us down heavily, though I can only imagine what she's been going through. I personally hope he arrives here soon, I dont have issues sharing a room with a guy actually, though I think the feeling I've overstayed my welcome will become even worse. I've been looking on craigs list for housing options and I'm thinking of posting myself that I need a room... but I'm afraid of dangerous situations emerging from this, as I've heard the horror stories of what happens to girls like me, who come forward with what we are to a stranger. I couldn't live in a situation where I had to hide my transsexuality though, I just don't pass clearly enough and even if I did I wouldn't really feel safe...
Sara out.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Anathema
Over the past few days, I've felt my place in the world closing in on me, until realizing all I have is a cot, a tiny rectangle of space, carved out in another person's room. Even in that room, I'm just a burden, a parasite if you will.
Two weeks ago I went to see my mom, as per usual, for a trip to the orthodontist, and while eating dinner we were talking about my cousin, who I had seen a week before then. My mom decided to ask what I had said about her, and asked me if I had said all the things SHE wanted me to say, as though I needed to bring up Asperger's syndrome and all the things she points out that I'm not doing at the dinner table with my cousin. The worst part though, is when she asked me if I worded it, "as though she had kicked me out" when in fact, she had kicked me out. Actually I didn't quite word it that way, but the matter of fact is, kicking me out because I am transitioning, and not allowing me to transition because I am there, are the same thing.
She had the audacity to say, that it had nothing to do with the hormones, it was that I needed to take more responsibility, and wouldn't even let me talk, when I tried to say that she had said, I can stay there, and should, but I can't be taking hormones in that house, she yelled at me and talked over me. She asked me when I will stop playing the victim, and take personal responsibility for not making something of myself in the five years I spent since I came out to them... (five years of hopeless misery with seemingly no way out)
She refused to let me stay at her house that evening and took me straight back home. With an onslaught of being called unfair and mean to her, and being told I will always turn on whoever is taking care of me, as if some kind of prophesy, attributing it to my Asperger's syndrome, she left me sobbing, walking up the driveway home, in near hysterics. She called later in the week, not to apologize, but to say she's gonna look for help for us. She told me she cried all the way home, and cried all night till she went to bed. Why tell me that except maybe to prove she's more miserable than I am. I was going to write a letter to mom here, and include it as part of the post, seeing as she'll never read it here, but I want to move on to my next topic... my roommate.
My roommate and I were basically best friends when I moved in, but time has left us more and more annoyed with each other, as living together will do that to a person, especially in such a tight space. but a few nights ago left me wondering if she even cares about me at all. Doubting it, rather. On the way to therapy, I was wearing the top I had just bought, and I was feeling relatively confident in myself, but I could tell something was giving me away because I received the usual onslaught of dirty looks.
Just before I arrived at the clinic a Latino teenager stuck his face in front of mine, and said "HELL NO it is NOT Halloween!" obviously referring to my being "In drag" as he probably saw me. I was heart broken by this comment and went to therapy feeling miserable, which I suppose is great because I had a lot to talk about. I came home and cried, and she was already in a bad mood, so she ignored me. I tried to tell her what happened and she said "oh..." and continued to ignore me, I cried some more and finally decided it was time to go to bed.
I asked her to turn her music off, which was upbeat and obnoxious, and she got mad at me. I tried to sleep but she types so hard that it sounds like she's trying to break the table. I felt like she was doing it on purpose. I was absolutely fuming at this point, I could have lived with her not caring, or showing any sympathy about the dirty remark, but I was hoping she'd at least understand enough to wanna let me sleep it off and start a new day, but apparently her comfort is more important. I went back online and cried to wolfie, and then I went to bed, she was doing something with less consistent typing, so I was able to fall asleep. Work the next to days provided me from solace, that is, her work. Not however, very much, because a few nights later she wanted me to leave the room so she could have a private conversation with her boyfriend. I decided that was fair enough, so I left the room, saying I'd take a shower. In addition to taking a shower I ate, did laundry, spent as much time in the shower as I could, and tried to give them lots of extra time. She snapped at me when I got back to the room saying "I was hoping you'd take longer" I yelled at her saying all the things I did to give her more time before being yelled back at, and being told "I'm the one who's yelling at her." At this point, we've been unable to speak to each other. The next morning led to a little fight, to her scowling at me, which now she does if she even looks at me, and slamming a drawer shut that I had left open. She asked me what I put in my tea, with an upset voice, so I answered, probably also sounding upset as at this point I couldn't keep it underneath. She said "Okay fine!" she snapped at me. I was upset and said "you should listen to yourself before getting pissed off about how I sound" She said "whatever..." and I said sarcastically "yeah whatever"... I'm sick of her saying that but I know at this point I'm only adding to the misery.
That night her constant scowling and sighing got the better of me, and I started to cry, and again she ignored me. This confirms that she really doesn't care about my feelings. at some point maybe she'll be in a better mood, and pretend like nothing ever happened, but she'll never talk about it with me, she never talks about things.
I feel I'm trapped in the room of someone who hates me, and as I realize how close she is with the majority of my friends in person, friends she introduced me to, most of them would easily back her up, seeing me as the villain of this story. Knowing that, my world is really closing in on me, and I'm feeling a strong sense of exile, of not belonging anywhere... but being stuck in someone else's world. The only time I don't feel violently alone is on final fantasy xi, where I have a number of supportive friends, all of whom know of my transition, and have been there for me for a long time, and of course with my girlfriend, thousands of miles away in France. I'd give anything to be with her, save the fact that I need to transition and I've told her this. She more than supports me in that endeavor and has been my north star in the darkest nights.
I'd give anything to be with her, instead of a friend that despises me, or a mother that keeps me in prison and blames me for everything that goes wrong. Right now, that dream seems far far away, her in France, and me here, with too much going on in our lives, and too much to sort out to dream about moving to another country just yet. I'd settle for the luxury of total loneliness, an empty house and no friends or family to care or not care about me. Of course I'd still want to be close to my girlfriend and my online friends, But at this point I just want to hide from everyone and everything, that isn't her.
I can't shake the feeling that I deserve this. For not having a job, for not going to school, for transitioning and hurting my family, for transitioning on free hormones, for flying so far on someone else's wings, for being a burden on the one who took me in, for not being able to sleep with her music on, for wanting more than just my cot, and blankets, and the little plush husky I keep with me that symbolizes my girlfriend, (which my roommate gave me). For being the bitch in this situation, in some way I haven't seen or figured out yet, unable to see outside of my own perspective. For getting out of what I was, a boy, in life, trapped, with no way out of it, hopeless, helpless, the way I should be.
Forgive me for whining, crying, or being "emo." If you've no patience for such things, read something else.
PS Samantha and Veronique I've been reading your blogs though unable to comment for a while, thank you both for the support you've shown on mine.
Two weeks ago I went to see my mom, as per usual, for a trip to the orthodontist, and while eating dinner we were talking about my cousin, who I had seen a week before then. My mom decided to ask what I had said about her, and asked me if I had said all the things SHE wanted me to say, as though I needed to bring up Asperger's syndrome and all the things she points out that I'm not doing at the dinner table with my cousin. The worst part though, is when she asked me if I worded it, "as though she had kicked me out" when in fact, she had kicked me out. Actually I didn't quite word it that way, but the matter of fact is, kicking me out because I am transitioning, and not allowing me to transition because I am there, are the same thing.
She had the audacity to say, that it had nothing to do with the hormones, it was that I needed to take more responsibility, and wouldn't even let me talk, when I tried to say that she had said, I can stay there, and should, but I can't be taking hormones in that house, she yelled at me and talked over me. She asked me when I will stop playing the victim, and take personal responsibility for not making something of myself in the five years I spent since I came out to them... (five years of hopeless misery with seemingly no way out)
She refused to let me stay at her house that evening and took me straight back home. With an onslaught of being called unfair and mean to her, and being told I will always turn on whoever is taking care of me, as if some kind of prophesy, attributing it to my Asperger's syndrome, she left me sobbing, walking up the driveway home, in near hysterics. She called later in the week, not to apologize, but to say she's gonna look for help for us. She told me she cried all the way home, and cried all night till she went to bed. Why tell me that except maybe to prove she's more miserable than I am. I was going to write a letter to mom here, and include it as part of the post, seeing as she'll never read it here, but I want to move on to my next topic... my roommate.
My roommate and I were basically best friends when I moved in, but time has left us more and more annoyed with each other, as living together will do that to a person, especially in such a tight space. but a few nights ago left me wondering if she even cares about me at all. Doubting it, rather. On the way to therapy, I was wearing the top I had just bought, and I was feeling relatively confident in myself, but I could tell something was giving me away because I received the usual onslaught of dirty looks.
Just before I arrived at the clinic a Latino teenager stuck his face in front of mine, and said "HELL NO it is NOT Halloween!" obviously referring to my being "In drag" as he probably saw me. I was heart broken by this comment and went to therapy feeling miserable, which I suppose is great because I had a lot to talk about. I came home and cried, and she was already in a bad mood, so she ignored me. I tried to tell her what happened and she said "oh..." and continued to ignore me, I cried some more and finally decided it was time to go to bed.
I asked her to turn her music off, which was upbeat and obnoxious, and she got mad at me. I tried to sleep but she types so hard that it sounds like she's trying to break the table. I felt like she was doing it on purpose. I was absolutely fuming at this point, I could have lived with her not caring, or showing any sympathy about the dirty remark, but I was hoping she'd at least understand enough to wanna let me sleep it off and start a new day, but apparently her comfort is more important. I went back online and cried to wolfie, and then I went to bed, she was doing something with less consistent typing, so I was able to fall asleep. Work the next to days provided me from solace, that is, her work. Not however, very much, because a few nights later she wanted me to leave the room so she could have a private conversation with her boyfriend. I decided that was fair enough, so I left the room, saying I'd take a shower. In addition to taking a shower I ate, did laundry, spent as much time in the shower as I could, and tried to give them lots of extra time. She snapped at me when I got back to the room saying "I was hoping you'd take longer" I yelled at her saying all the things I did to give her more time before being yelled back at, and being told "I'm the one who's yelling at her." At this point, we've been unable to speak to each other. The next morning led to a little fight, to her scowling at me, which now she does if she even looks at me, and slamming a drawer shut that I had left open. She asked me what I put in my tea, with an upset voice, so I answered, probably also sounding upset as at this point I couldn't keep it underneath. She said "Okay fine!" she snapped at me. I was upset and said "you should listen to yourself before getting pissed off about how I sound" She said "whatever..." and I said sarcastically "yeah whatever"... I'm sick of her saying that but I know at this point I'm only adding to the misery.
That night her constant scowling and sighing got the better of me, and I started to cry, and again she ignored me. This confirms that she really doesn't care about my feelings. at some point maybe she'll be in a better mood, and pretend like nothing ever happened, but she'll never talk about it with me, she never talks about things.
I feel I'm trapped in the room of someone who hates me, and as I realize how close she is with the majority of my friends in person, friends she introduced me to, most of them would easily back her up, seeing me as the villain of this story. Knowing that, my world is really closing in on me, and I'm feeling a strong sense of exile, of not belonging anywhere... but being stuck in someone else's world. The only time I don't feel violently alone is on final fantasy xi, where I have a number of supportive friends, all of whom know of my transition, and have been there for me for a long time, and of course with my girlfriend, thousands of miles away in France. I'd give anything to be with her, save the fact that I need to transition and I've told her this. She more than supports me in that endeavor and has been my north star in the darkest nights.
I'd give anything to be with her, instead of a friend that despises me, or a mother that keeps me in prison and blames me for everything that goes wrong. Right now, that dream seems far far away, her in France, and me here, with too much going on in our lives, and too much to sort out to dream about moving to another country just yet. I'd settle for the luxury of total loneliness, an empty house and no friends or family to care or not care about me. Of course I'd still want to be close to my girlfriend and my online friends, But at this point I just want to hide from everyone and everything, that isn't her.
I can't shake the feeling that I deserve this. For not having a job, for not going to school, for transitioning and hurting my family, for transitioning on free hormones, for flying so far on someone else's wings, for being a burden on the one who took me in, for not being able to sleep with her music on, for wanting more than just my cot, and blankets, and the little plush husky I keep with me that symbolizes my girlfriend, (which my roommate gave me). For being the bitch in this situation, in some way I haven't seen or figured out yet, unable to see outside of my own perspective. For getting out of what I was, a boy, in life, trapped, with no way out of it, hopeless, helpless, the way I should be.
Forgive me for whining, crying, or being "emo." If you've no patience for such things, read something else.
PS Samantha and Veronique I've been reading your blogs though unable to comment for a while, thank you both for the support you've shown on mine.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
An Almost Perfect Day
Yesterday was my Roommate's birthday, and though I said something about to her and my friends... a few times, the significance of the day to me was lost the merriment and exhaustion of an exhilarating day, in hindsight I hope I didn't seem self centered.
She opted to go to Disneyland for the day, and it was rather exiting, given that I haven't been to Disneyland in years, not since some time in grammar school. I had forgotten how much fun it is just to walk from one completely different setting to another in New Orleans, Tommorowland, Fantasyland, and so on. I had a great time with my friends though I spent a little more money than I had hoped, (despite getting in free thanks to an employee, who happens to be the aunt of a mutual friend of my roommate and I.
I had so much fun with my friends, and was apparently passing. I wore my favorite top, did my hear a little nicely, and put some foundation on, and I was getting no dirty looks, or I should say... very few, (it was hard for me to keep my voice up in femenine pitch all day) but very little of the day went bad, so I really didn't care about the small stuff. I got a little lonely on the train, something about it was romantic and I bumped shoulders with my friend... From that I got the idea about my sweetheart putting her arm around me, I'd been thinking about her the whole time, but right then is when it started to hurt. I realize though that my roommate's boyfriend also wasn't able to make it, I moved on and enjoyed the good and let myself let go of the sad romantic for a bit.
But the significance of it, the reason I was posting, is that I was there as a girl, and apparently passing, and I realized at some point... I SAW myself as a girl. Being a girl had stopped being some fleeting, click your heels imaginary thing, "I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside..." It had become a fact of reality, "I'm a girl"If I did think about gender dysphoria, all I thought about was that I wasn't experiencing it at all, that I only felt the euphoria of release, or of the novelty of hearing miss and ma'am all day. At Disneyland in that context I got to revisit my childhood, seeing famiar sights and sounds that used to exite me, but this time I needn't pretend to be anyone other than me. I became a little Sara for the first time, exited and enticed by everything I see. This day was a milestone for me, to be with friends, to have fun and not have the doom of gender dysphoria looming behind or ahead of me, a few months ago I thought a day like today would never achieve reality.
Now if only my girlfriend had been there it would have truly been perfect, I really did miss her alot. That said, I look forward to when we do finally get to go somewhere like that together, maybe just us, and be girlfriend and girlfriend, rather than looking at yesterday with any sadness or regret. Maybe we can even hold hands, I hear the exeptionally GLBT friendly at that park.
She opted to go to Disneyland for the day, and it was rather exiting, given that I haven't been to Disneyland in years, not since some time in grammar school. I had forgotten how much fun it is just to walk from one completely different setting to another in New Orleans, Tommorowland, Fantasyland, and so on. I had a great time with my friends though I spent a little more money than I had hoped, (despite getting in free thanks to an employee, who happens to be the aunt of a mutual friend of my roommate and I.
I had so much fun with my friends, and was apparently passing. I wore my favorite top, did my hear a little nicely, and put some foundation on, and I was getting no dirty looks, or I should say... very few, (it was hard for me to keep my voice up in femenine pitch all day) but very little of the day went bad, so I really didn't care about the small stuff. I got a little lonely on the train, something about it was romantic and I bumped shoulders with my friend... From that I got the idea about my sweetheart putting her arm around me, I'd been thinking about her the whole time, but right then is when it started to hurt. I realize though that my roommate's boyfriend also wasn't able to make it, I moved on and enjoyed the good and let myself let go of the sad romantic for a bit.
But the significance of it, the reason I was posting, is that I was there as a girl, and apparently passing, and I realized at some point... I SAW myself as a girl. Being a girl had stopped being some fleeting, click your heels imaginary thing, "I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside..." It had become a fact of reality, "I'm a girl"If I did think about gender dysphoria, all I thought about was that I wasn't experiencing it at all, that I only felt the euphoria of release, or of the novelty of hearing miss and ma'am all day. At Disneyland in that context I got to revisit my childhood, seeing famiar sights and sounds that used to exite me, but this time I needn't pretend to be anyone other than me. I became a little Sara for the first time, exited and enticed by everything I see. This day was a milestone for me, to be with friends, to have fun and not have the doom of gender dysphoria looming behind or ahead of me, a few months ago I thought a day like today would never achieve reality.
Now if only my girlfriend had been there it would have truly been perfect, I really did miss her alot. That said, I look forward to when we do finally get to go somewhere like that together, maybe just us, and be girlfriend and girlfriend, rather than looking at yesterday with any sadness or regret. Maybe we can even hold hands, I hear the exeptionally GLBT friendly at that park.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Miracle on Sunset Ave
I meant to post this the night it happened, but now hear I am, posting Christmas morning, about something that happened about a week ago. So begins another two part post courtesy of Sara. First and foremost, an experience that happened to me that more or less changed my life. I guess it was going to happen eventually, but I wasn't really expecting it.
I was taking the train down to Hollywood as per usual, wearing a new top I had bought, and a cute black and purple hairband I got when I was out with a friend a week or so earlier. I was feeling pretty good about myself even though I knew I wasn't passing. Something however, was strangely absent in today's journey: the dirty looks. Sometimes this happens, when I'm wearing one of my black babydoll shirts and a hoodie over, because its cold, people seem to not notice that I'm a girl, or even dressed as one, so they simply ignore me, regarding me simply as a man.
I knew today it was blatantly obvious I was dressed as a girl, the top I was wearing wasn't that low cut, but it was enough that they don't make men's shirts in that fashion, and it was a bit frilly and tighter than the shirts I used to wear. Oh and red, by the way. The hairband completed the picture. I've never seen a guy wearing a hairband.
I figured people were just too busy or didn't care enough, I got lucky with a nicer crowd today on the train. It passed in the back of my mind that people actually took me for a girl, with no strings attached but I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I let that notion slide from my imagination. Its best not to get caught up in dreamworlds... okay I don't really live up to that very often, but concerning my transition, I try especially hard.
It happened when I was about to go to subway and the bum that is normally there asking for change, didn't talk to me. He stopped asking me for change at a certain point in my transition, was it because I never have any to give him, or was it because he was appalled at what I am? He whispered something to another ragged loafer (I try to be a generous person but these particular bums inappropriate behavior dampens my respect for them) something about me, as he was looking directly at me... well and pointing at me. The ragged loafer replied "who the white girl?" He was looking at me. I'm the white girl??? Despite the rudeness and and creepiness of this behavior, I was ecstatic to be called anything other than sir! The bum had probably told the ragged loafer that I was transsexual, as he had seen me several times before this, in various stages of my transition. The ragged loafer became the creep. He proceeded to call me "hay baby, hay girl, baby girl" and said something about going to Victoria's secret with him. I gave him a cold "not interested" and fled to subway from the shaggy troll's advances.
Equal parts ecstatic and disturbed, my first experience as a woman in the real world, was an encounter with a creep. Ah, but being a woman, for all the new terrors associated with it, is at least, far more exiting than being a man ever was. I'll stay safe don't worry. I'm being uncharacteristically optimistic, but I won't go searching for this kind of excitement, which the novelty is already wearing off.
In subway, where I had been called sir previously, I met no strange looks or confusion or nervousness behind the counter. Once I could see people were actually terrified of me. To them I must be the troll. No such terror existed in their eyes. No dirty looks and no rush to get me out of the line and hopefully out of the store. I was met with the same politeness I received before I began to dress. I assume that this is just how they roll here in Hollywood where queers are plentiful. When I handed them my cash they told me "enjoy your sandwich ma'am." A euphoric shock surged through every nerve in my body. It was at this moment I finally admitted to myself, what was happening. I was passing, at least for a day.
Since that day I've been able to pass on and off with my hair band and a little foundation. I guess at the length my hair is now, I don't pass without the hairband. I'm not really into short girl haircuts, but it hurts that I can't choose to be one of those girls with short hair if I wanted to. Some girls can really pull that off and look sexy.
Sometimes I get ma'am sometimes I get sir. It seems the majority of it has gone back to sir, but that one particular day gives me so much hope, that it's easier to go on. Even as my friend Amanda continues to accidental call me "he" without meaning to. It's probably my voice, but my facial features don't help it much.
So I'll be getting my name change soon, and I'll be working on getting some schooling, or a job, or something, under my true name, and not under some identity forced upon me.
Fast forward then, to today. Christmas eve, which I spent with my family, as I have traditionally for Christmas eve since childhood. It was my immediate family this time, just my aunts and uncles grandma and grandpa and mom and dad. No throng of second cousins and third cousins twice removed and children I don't know chasing each other through the halls, like I'm used to. I wore my hairband today, the black one, so it wouldn't be as noticed, but for some reason I chickened out when I got there, and took it off. I knew the kids would notice, and indeed they said something about it. I wore my girl jeans, and my breasts have gotten too big not to be noticed under the dress shirt I wore, even if their still much smaller than I'd like. Like last time, nobody said anything, I'm not sure I really wanted them to, quite as badly, but it still would have been nice. Next time maybe I'll wear the hairband the whole time.
I received a card from my grandpa that said something like "You're the kind of special boy a grandson ought to be" What the hell am I supposed to do with a card like that?? I also got two hundred dollars from them though, that's plenty of Christmas money for new clothes and maybe a video game. Still, I think this card stung more than anything else. Did they just not think, its difficult to imagine my grandparents purposely giving me a stinger like that, but not impossible. You just don't complain about Christmas cards in my family, so I guess I'll just have to throw it away later. Its cute too, with Santa's chubby airbrushed face on the front, why does it have to use boy words? Part of me wants to keep it, because I'm sentimental and I'll get all emotional if I throw it away. Maybe I'll bury it in my stuff somewhere and forget about it, like I do with all the ones I mean to keep.
Sorry for not commenting or posting for a while, especially Wolfie, Veronique, and Samantha, Veronique and Samantha are my friend's of mine I've made here on the blog community, and fellow writers about their lives and the trials and triumphs of being a transsexual woman. Wolfie is a name I call my lesbian girlfriend Acacia. I really don't write about her enough for someone who is such a staple in this struggle of mine. I've come a long way, and as cheesy as it sounds, Wolfie you are really the wind beneath my wings.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
I was taking the train down to Hollywood as per usual, wearing a new top I had bought, and a cute black and purple hairband I got when I was out with a friend a week or so earlier. I was feeling pretty good about myself even though I knew I wasn't passing. Something however, was strangely absent in today's journey: the dirty looks. Sometimes this happens, when I'm wearing one of my black babydoll shirts and a hoodie over, because its cold, people seem to not notice that I'm a girl, or even dressed as one, so they simply ignore me, regarding me simply as a man.
I knew today it was blatantly obvious I was dressed as a girl, the top I was wearing wasn't that low cut, but it was enough that they don't make men's shirts in that fashion, and it was a bit frilly and tighter than the shirts I used to wear. Oh and red, by the way. The hairband completed the picture. I've never seen a guy wearing a hairband.
I figured people were just too busy or didn't care enough, I got lucky with a nicer crowd today on the train. It passed in the back of my mind that people actually took me for a girl, with no strings attached but I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I let that notion slide from my imagination. Its best not to get caught up in dreamworlds... okay I don't really live up to that very often, but concerning my transition, I try especially hard.
It happened when I was about to go to subway and the bum that is normally there asking for change, didn't talk to me. He stopped asking me for change at a certain point in my transition, was it because I never have any to give him, or was it because he was appalled at what I am? He whispered something to another ragged loafer (I try to be a generous person but these particular bums inappropriate behavior dampens my respect for them) something about me, as he was looking directly at me... well and pointing at me. The ragged loafer replied "who the white girl?" He was looking at me. I'm the white girl??? Despite the rudeness and and creepiness of this behavior, I was ecstatic to be called anything other than sir! The bum had probably told the ragged loafer that I was transsexual, as he had seen me several times before this, in various stages of my transition. The ragged loafer became the creep. He proceeded to call me "hay baby, hay girl, baby girl" and said something about going to Victoria's secret with him. I gave him a cold "not interested" and fled to subway from the shaggy troll's advances.
Equal parts ecstatic and disturbed, my first experience as a woman in the real world, was an encounter with a creep. Ah, but being a woman, for all the new terrors associated with it, is at least, far more exiting than being a man ever was. I'll stay safe don't worry. I'm being uncharacteristically optimistic, but I won't go searching for this kind of excitement, which the novelty is already wearing off.
In subway, where I had been called sir previously, I met no strange looks or confusion or nervousness behind the counter. Once I could see people were actually terrified of me. To them I must be the troll. No such terror existed in their eyes. No dirty looks and no rush to get me out of the line and hopefully out of the store. I was met with the same politeness I received before I began to dress. I assume that this is just how they roll here in Hollywood where queers are plentiful. When I handed them my cash they told me "enjoy your sandwich ma'am." A euphoric shock surged through every nerve in my body. It was at this moment I finally admitted to myself, what was happening. I was passing, at least for a day.
Since that day I've been able to pass on and off with my hair band and a little foundation. I guess at the length my hair is now, I don't pass without the hairband. I'm not really into short girl haircuts, but it hurts that I can't choose to be one of those girls with short hair if I wanted to. Some girls can really pull that off and look sexy.
Sometimes I get ma'am sometimes I get sir. It seems the majority of it has gone back to sir, but that one particular day gives me so much hope, that it's easier to go on. Even as my friend Amanda continues to accidental call me "he" without meaning to. It's probably my voice, but my facial features don't help it much.
So I'll be getting my name change soon, and I'll be working on getting some schooling, or a job, or something, under my true name, and not under some identity forced upon me.
Fast forward then, to today. Christmas eve, which I spent with my family, as I have traditionally for Christmas eve since childhood. It was my immediate family this time, just my aunts and uncles grandma and grandpa and mom and dad. No throng of second cousins and third cousins twice removed and children I don't know chasing each other through the halls, like I'm used to. I wore my hairband today, the black one, so it wouldn't be as noticed, but for some reason I chickened out when I got there, and took it off. I knew the kids would notice, and indeed they said something about it. I wore my girl jeans, and my breasts have gotten too big not to be noticed under the dress shirt I wore, even if their still much smaller than I'd like. Like last time, nobody said anything, I'm not sure I really wanted them to, quite as badly, but it still would have been nice. Next time maybe I'll wear the hairband the whole time.
I received a card from my grandpa that said something like "You're the kind of special boy a grandson ought to be" What the hell am I supposed to do with a card like that?? I also got two hundred dollars from them though, that's plenty of Christmas money for new clothes and maybe a video game. Still, I think this card stung more than anything else. Did they just not think, its difficult to imagine my grandparents purposely giving me a stinger like that, but not impossible. You just don't complain about Christmas cards in my family, so I guess I'll just have to throw it away later. Its cute too, with Santa's chubby airbrushed face on the front, why does it have to use boy words? Part of me wants to keep it, because I'm sentimental and I'll get all emotional if I throw it away. Maybe I'll bury it in my stuff somewhere and forget about it, like I do with all the ones I mean to keep.
Sorry for not commenting or posting for a while, especially Wolfie, Veronique, and Samantha, Veronique and Samantha are my friend's of mine I've made here on the blog community, and fellow writers about their lives and the trials and triumphs of being a transsexual woman. Wolfie is a name I call my lesbian girlfriend Acacia. I really don't write about her enough for someone who is such a staple in this struggle of mine. I've come a long way, and as cheesy as it sounds, Wolfie you are really the wind beneath my wings.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)