In the beginning

This post is a cut and paste from a previous entry on a previous blog that me and my then girlfriend were writing about the transition. It is her account of the moment of epiphany. I feel it is pretty accurate- so rather than reinventing the wheel, here you go... my apologies to those who have been reading along all the while. In the following conversations "me" is my ex gf, and the "she" and "her" referred to is me, pre-transition.

me: We went into Maidenform because she was complaining that she couldn't wear a tight t-shirt because of the sportsbra uniboob effect.
So I understood her request as: find me a regular bra that doesn't have underwires and is comfortable.
Found it, went into the dressingroom and tried it on. It fit beautifully.
But, as I was looking at her reflection in the mirror, I noticed her face was not pleased.
In fact, it was kind of disgusted and wholly uncomfortable.
She said, "They look like frikken cones!".
I think it'd been forever since she'd really looked at herself in the mirror wearing a real bra.
"That's how they're supposed to look," I said.
"I have to take this off," she said, and she did, and threw her clothes back on.
Then we kind of just sat in the dressing room and stared at each other.
And I saw it in her eyes.
I don't know how, but I did.
And I said, "You don't have to wear this."
And she said, "I really wish I didn't have boobs at all. I wish I could just get rid of them."
"I hate them," she said,
And then she seemed surprised at herself for saying it out loud. Like, women can be annoyed at their boobs, but hate them entirely? That's kind of taboo.
I mean, what does that mean? When you say that? This was the thought that was running through my head.
So we had a conversation that seemed to last about three days off and on.
About her past, and how she's always felt not just masculine inside, but fundamentally male.
At one point after the bra epiphany on the way home, she said, "I wish I could just snap my fingers and be a boy. If it was that easy, I'd do it."
"That's telling," I said.
And then we were off...on the twisty path of transitioning...

Dominoes, Anyone?

So, Thanksgiving weekend is officially over. I am watching the last of the long, long string of football games that have been airing seemingly nonstop since Thanksgiving Day. I have to say that all this football makes me very, very happy. Especially since the college and NFL seasons are winding down.

Thanksgiving has always meant football to me. This year I have watched a ton and even played some with my son and nieces (and 2 year old nephew who loves football almost as much as I do!). Both my favorite teams won (UT and the Cowboys) so that added a little more happy to my happy Thanksgiving. But enough (or maybe too much already) about football. What I really wanted to write about is dominoes.

Though those "bones" have had a regular part of our family gatherings for years, I don't mean the little white rectangles, littered with black dots. I mean the conceptual dominoes. I mean the dominoes we spend our whole lives setting up into neat little rows, creating cognitive patterns and perceptual designs. These beautiful shapes seem so orderly, so perfect. That is, until something or someone comes along and tips just one. Then, that one clanks into the next and it is all "downhill" from there. Every single domino is in danger and when gravity has had its way, there is little more than a pile of bones, scattered in a mess that vaguely resembles the once orderly and perfectly planned and meticulously laid out designs.

When I was a kid, one of my very favorite gifts I ever got was a Domino Rally. This was a set of dominoes and "tricks" (like a pulley activated by a domino tapping a string, freeing the weighted end to pull down the gizmo that eventually sent a marble rolling down a tube to start the other set of dominoes falling). I spent HOURS setting up the rows of dominoes, tinkering with the tricks, spreading my game out all over the house. I remember how beautiful it was when you got it all set up, called everyone one in to witness your genius and with one flick of the finger tip, set it all in motion. Everyone gasped and cheered as the steady click, click, click of dominoes falling one after the other created a hypnotizing visual effect.

But I also remember how frustrating it was when, while I was hard at working setting up elaborate schemes, a domino would rebel and fall without prompting or because I sneezed or dropped a marble or the cat was curious. I remember the desperate feeling of trying to get ahead of gravity and stop the perpetual, premature destruction of my masterpiece. I remember feeling so mad that all the time I had spent setting it up, was gone, and now I just had to start over, setting up the dominoes one by one.

Over the last 7 months I and my transition have been the sneeze, the dropped marble, the curious cat that has sent many a family member, friend and potential date into desperate panic, trying to get ahead of the click, click, click. Most people have a whole room full of dominoes set up around gender, sexuality and how they relate to others around these issues. Our society has created a seemingly "secure" environment in which to say this person is my "sister", "daughter", "girlfriend" etc. But when that person recognizes, and asks others to recognize that their gender does not match with their body, and therefore they are now a "brother", "son" or "boyfriend" the dominoes begin to fall, and scatter, and lose their shape.

Given this is my life, my reality, the truth as I see it, all this gender shifting and bending just seems normal to me. It just seems like it should be obvious to everyone. I have noticed that those who have had the hardest time with it are those who have spent the least amount of time with me over the last five years or so. And even more so over the past year.

The girl I went on a couple of dates with was caught completely off guard by my disclosure and told me she didn't feel comfortable being in a romantic relationship "with a woman." This stung but was almost laughable to me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and say, "She just doesn't get it." It told me she wasn't able to listen, process or accept what I was telling her. It told me she likely hadn't read the blog at all. It told me her dominoes had been set in cement.

I can't blame her for that. Dominoes in cement are way less frustrating, way less scary, way safer. The only trouble is, that if you set your dominoes in cement, even YOU can't knock 'em down when you are ready. And if you ask me, even as cool as it looks for the dominoes to be all set up in rows, the real beauty lies in the dynamic motion of their falling, the glorious click, click, click of continuous motion up, down, in spirals and through obstacles.

Some of my friends and family have said that they feel a great loss. That they mourn a death of sorts of who I was. Especially those who don't have a chance to know me now, to spend time with me and starting setting the dominoes of our relationship back up again. Some people have set them back up. Some people have seen a way to set them back up in an almost identical pattern as before, maybe with just different colored dominoes. Others have scrapped the old patterns and started fresh.

I know the frustration of someone or something coming along and rendering all your work useless, especially unexpectedly or when you thought you were done with that project. I know the confusion of asking yourself: what now? is it worth starting over? how do I know as soon as I get them all set up again something won't just knock 'em over?

Each person in my life will have to answer those questions for themselves, just like I did. Believe me, 7 months ago I was standing there in a puddle of my own tears and a cloud of my own frustration asking the same questions. But I didn't have a choice, really. I HAD to pick up the dominoes and start again. But the people in my life DO have a choice. They can have their dominoes in cement. OR, through thought, questions and interactions with me risk that the dominoes will topple. And for those whom my transition has more or less created an earthquake under their display, they can choose to start over and set 'em up again. The pattern, the response is up to them.

As for me, despite the frustration of the inevitable act of gravity, I am choosing to set em up, one by one with the hope that when they fall, I'll learn something. Hopefully, I will learn to enjoy the click, click, click even when it happens when I didn't mean for it to, in a way I never intended. Even when it's an earthquake I never expected.

So... dominoes, anyone?

When A Man Loves A Woman

So, as I said on an earlier post, I joined this dating website mostly out of boredom and curiosity. As it turns out, I met an amazing woman there. She is educated, intelligent, creative, articulate, funny, beautiful, and kind with a splash of good humored sarcasm. She is just the "girl next door" type that drives me crazy. BUT, I had never had the opportunity to fully enjoy the dynamic before, since all my previous girlfriends knew me as female and none of them were really that type, either.

Since being on T, there is no denying that my emotional reactions to things have changed. I am much less "emotional". I feel more stable, more thoughtful and less jerked around by which ever way the wind blows. This, of course, is probably also in large part to finally being grounded in my sense of self. But some of it DOES have to do with the T. I was ranting to my male cousin about how I felt angry and frustrated so quickly at things, about how my emotional IQ and intuitive understanding of my then girlfriend had plummeted. He said, "Welcome to manhood. You are telling me what every guy sits on a barstool and complains about to his buddies. It's the T." He went on to remind me that emotions are just the product of brain chemistry and that my brain chemistry was drastically different now. That made sense and was actually kind of a relief. Then, all I had to do was learn how to sort through these feelings and react accordingly. I say all that to say that I was very curious, and a little worried, about if I'd ever feel those butterflies again. I was worried that I would feel like I was falling in love again.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I ended up going on exactly 2 dates with this amazing woman. We talked on the phone some and emailed and chatted some, but not excessively. I knew enough of her story to know that she was someone who had suffered a few unexpected turns in life and had to learn to get back on track.

I did not tell her about my "status" for a couple of reasons. I wanted her to get to know ME without the static of that in the background and I wanted to be able to be myself without worrying that something I did or said would be "too feminine". I was just me and from everything I could tell, she liked me- and was starting to like me a lot.

As far as butterflies go- they were there, in record quantity. The moment I saw her coming from across the street, I thought to myself, "Oh man, I'm in trouble." She was so beautiful that it was disarming. I now know why guys turn into blubbering idiots around woman. There is so much there in the "right" woman. She drives you forward, opens you up and let's you know you are enough with one look, one smile, one touch.

As we talked, we discovered so many commonalities. We talked about everything from pets to our common hometown to food and our respective but VERY similar OCD tendencies. Between dates, I mentioned that I needed some classical music to work to because lyrics are distracting to me. With in a day or two, she had burned me a cd of her favorites.

Funny thing, though I barely know her- and may not be getting the chance to know her better as I haven't heard from her since I dropped the bomb shell- I hear her in the music. One track in particular (Holst- Jupiter the Bringer of Jollity)... I hear what I saw in her eyes. Resolve and Hope. When our eyes locked, I saw Hope. Hope that is forged by flames of grief and turmoil. Hope that was threatened by the extreme heat of deep personal tragedy but that survived. She is not damaged for her journey, she is enlightened and she has confidence and courage that only few find. And I swear I could feel her searching my eyes and dare I say, finding the same.

Now, the silence since I told her, has been deafening. My mind has been flooded with things that I could "do". I am a do-er, you see. I could send her the lyrics to the song she inspired; I could leave a single rose and a note on her car at work; I could send her a letter, detailing her amazing qualities. But after I told her, she said she needed time to process. So, as I see it, the one thing I can "do" is nothing, is give her that time, despite how uncomfortable the silence is to me.

There is an old saying, that I always thought was very cheesy: "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it is yours; If it doesn't it never was." Now, I am not saying I LOVED her- I barely knew her- but I do think we could have (and who knows, maybe someday still will be) great together. I think we would have been solid and both felt blessed to have the other. But last night, after several days of moping around, I realized I just have to let her go. Like so many other things in my life, I just have to let go.

I am extremely grateful to her for the privilege of spending time with her and what she has done for me, she may never know. She gave me two nights of catching a glimpse, a sneak preview of what it feels like when a man loves a woman.

The "I" in Identity, the "Person" in Personality

So, I went back to the church I had attended prior to transitioning today. I went back there because this is one of the few faith communities that ascribes to somewhat "traditional" faith of the Christian variety but a very strong eye towards all sorts of diversity. They welcome and even teach from other religious texts and questions, doubts and criticisms are welcome there. Recently, they have begun talking about adding gender identity to their open and affirming statement which already contains "sexual orientation". The last time anyone at this church saw me, I was with my ex of over a year ago, identifying as lesbian and presenting entirely female (butch as it may have been).

Well, the pastor has been following me on facebook and knew all about this and that I was planning on coming back soon. He welcomed me, as I had expected and hoped he would. He asked if he could offer the link to this blog to help educate his congregation on trans issues. Then, on my way out the door, he said, "It's okay if we slip sometimes, huh?" (referring to accidentally using my birth name) To which I kinda stammered and said, "It's okay if you slip? Well, no- not really."

This is such a hard thing to deal with. I mean, I know for people who knew me before, it is a difficult mental task, just as not calling someone by their maiden name after they marry or not using a discarded nickname. So, I want to be patient and understanding of this mental task. However, I wish that people understood how central a transperson's name is to their sense of self.

Most people go through life with the name they were given by their parents. Maybe they get to pick a shortened version to use on a day to day basis. Maybe they marry and take on a name by choice that way. But even still, that name is not "chosen" in that is was already their spouses, by birth.

For me, my birthname carries with it the essence and burden of my very struggle. This is a struggle I have to embrace each day when I wake up and take a shower, get dressed and look in the mirror. Every time I go to the restroom, go on a date, work out, swim (forget public locker rooms all together), have to show my driver's license... the list goes on and on. So, needless to say, I feel that I more than embrace and fight this battle of being in the wrong body countless times a day. I simply do not want to fight it more than I have to. And when someone calls me by my birth name or uses "she" or "her", it is like sirens blaring reminding me that I am in an emotional war zone, fighting for myself. So, in short- No, it is not alright when you slip. Am I going to flip out and think you are being mean or storm away angry, no. But for me to just say, "Yeah, no problem." would be a lie. I will politely and consistently correct you, despite the discomfort that might bring all of us. Because my name is who I am. I have lost an ocean of tears, a calendar of nights's sleep and enough energy to power New York City for a decade to get here. After being this invested, I cannot let those casualties go unhonored because YOU "forget". Especially now. Especially now that my outside is finally representative of what we have been programed to recognize as "male". I will not see malice in your "accidents" but I will make you aware of them in hopes that your awareness will be raised to the point that you take the time and energy to respect the ground I have gained.

For someone who has felt largely invisible most of his life, my name is the I in identity. It is on my "I"d card, my law license, my diploma, myself.

Topic #2- The Person in Personality.
I have taken countless personality tests and profiles in my life. And without fail, they come back with me being so "well balanced" that I am basically nothing distinctive (except extroverted, definitely always extroverted). All other categories come back "even". Some might say that this is a good thing and gives me the ability to adjust to any given situation. I used to think of myself as a chameleon, able to fit in anywhere. I spent so much time trying to assess the situation and "fit" into it, I never took the time to figure out who I was.

I learned early on, just be still. That little boy inside me learned to hide and be still and he would not get hurt. I used to have reoccurring dreams about bad guys breaking into our house, shooting everyone. In those dreams I would always tell myself to just be still, don't even breath... then they will think you are already dead. If I slipped up and they noticed I was alive, they always shot my legs up with machine guns. The only hope was always to just be still enough to be thought dead or overlooked completely.

Recently, I have retaken some of those personality tests. And as it turns out, I do have some fairly distinct leanings and tendencies. I do not think that it is a coincidence that now that the little boy, my true self, is finally being allowed to be seen and heard, now that I have coxed him out of the basement and started feeding and nurturing him, letting him run and play, flex his muscles, grow into a man- I now have "person"-ality.

And a darn fine one, at that.

Just a Good Ol' Boy

So, as I come into my own, there is no denying that I am just a good ol' boy. Not in the sense that I am bigoted or sexist, but in the sense that what I really want out of life, is just a "normal life". I want a wife and a family and a good job and just an easy going life, enjoying the little things. The problem is finding someone who wants those things too. I am attracted to a certain "type" of woman that is pretty traditional. So, the challenge is finding someone who is traditional enough to be compatible in what we want, but also finds a way to wrap their brain around my situation. I sure wish I had a way to make it make sense. But, it is a complete and total mind F*. No way around it.

Then there is the ever pressing question of how and when to share this very difficult and personal information. Too soon and you have over-shared, run the risk of them never getting to know who you really, or at worst compromising your own physical safety. Too late, and the woman could feel like you have been lying to her. The amount of trust it takes to share something that has, for most of your life, been such a source of pain and shame is difficult to build in the short amount of time before it seems like disclosure is necessary. There is a fear that you will, once again, be misunderstood, invisible, forced into a box in which you do not belong.

Some transgendered people are attracted to those in the queer community and they see their own sexuality and/or gender as fluid so dating bisexual or genderqueer people works for them. Running in those circles, dating in those circles, certainly makes it "easier" and less scary. But, while I value my connection with the queer community, I don't find any romantic attraction there. I am attracted to straight women, who love and embrace their femininity.

So- once again- between a rock and a hard place. My therapist says that I will find someone who can deal with all of this mess. She says it will be like looking for a certain grain of sand in a sand dune. She says I have a lot of sifting to do.

Today, my feet are raw from the hot friction of the long walk through the dessert. My eyes sting as they blink to try to purge the grains the wind has deposited. I am hot and tired. I question the effectiveness of my tools. I wonder if the picture of my future that at moments seems so clear and real is just a mirage.

I guess, once again, I have to wait and see.

The Waiting Game

The Universe appears to be trying to make certain that I am aware that I have very little control, if any at all. I told my therapist last time I saw here that my mantra (she always has me come up with one at the end of a session) was "I don't f'in know." She said, "How about 'I don't need to know?'" Why does she have to do that- always has to kick it up a notch. But, I guess that is what I pay her for.

So, I interviewed three weeks ago for an attorney's position where I work. Since then, I learned I passed the bar and had a second interview. Now, I wait. All those years of school, the bar, lots of interviews in so many different places and now it comes down to this. Living in limbo is torture for me. I hate gray space. Yet, it seems to be my home town these days.

Maybe I should have my mail forwarded.

More older posts

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2009
A long time ago... in a galaxy far, far away...

35 years ago today, my parents welcomed a new baby into the world. By first glance, it was a baby girl. This perception persisted for years. Sure, "she" was into sports. She was just a tomboy, right? Then, the hurdle of accepting or at least tolerating her attraction to women. Now, "she" was a soft butch lesbian. Great. To my parents, this was certainly nothing to celebrate. Then, 5 months and 10 days (163 days)ago, it smacked me right between the eyes. (see first post about maidenform).

This is the very first birthday I have celebrated as me. And it feels amazing. The more firsts I have as D, the more I realize how I was going through life numb. I was sure something wasn't quite right. I always had a sense of longing, loneliness, sadness but I just didn't know why. Now, I am feeling everything. That is scary sometimes because sometimes things hurt. I get that old sensation of my throat and lungs being constricted and this ache in my chest. I lived with that sensation for years. Now, when it comes back, I stop and check in with myself. My therapist is helping me gain tools to unpack those feelings and be able to deal with them.

So, I mentioned in my last post a weird deal with my ex. Well, I was talking about my ex from over 8 years ago. She was the first woman I had ever been with. She "rescued" me from my unhealthy marriage. She was great to me. But she I always felt guilty for wanting to grow or change. For example, when I cut my shoulder length hair off to very short, she cried; when I wanted to go to graduate school, she was constantly asking, "What does that mean for us?" If I wanted to have a beer, she questioned me about it and acted like I was turning into an alcoholic.

We broke up because she was unwilling to let me grow past a certain point, afraid that I would outgrow her. Which, really only brought on exactly that. I broke her heart when I walked away during our 4th Thanksgiving together. Then, we were silent for over three years. No communication at all. Then, before I left to go to D.C. for law school, I tracked her down and told her I was sorry for the things I did during the course of our relationship that were not kind. And she forgave me for breaking her heart and we became friends. We talked not infrequently and talked out many of the things that had been sideways, but too scary to talk about, in our relationship. Since then, she has twice professed her undying love for me. We had coffee or meals a few times when we were in each other's respective locations but stayed VERY platonic.

Then, I told her about my decision to transition. And hadn't heard from her since April- 5 months. Not the end of the world. I didn't even really think about it that much. I think I left a few messages that went unreturned. But we were both busy, so I really didn't think much of it.

Then, last week, she text messaged me. She said something along the lines of, "Thanks for giving me the time I needed to deal with your decision. It has not been easy for me...." She then proceeded to tell me that she and her girlfriend had purchased a house 10 miles from where I live and she is working downtown, blocks from where I work. At first, I just felt annoyed. Annoyed at the understated drama of the whole thing. Then, I got really, really angry. I couldn't really figure out why. Except a vague sense of- this (my decision) is not about her. It made me angry that all these years later and all the times she has told me she just wanted me to be happy lead to this. I did not expect her support; I didn't need her support. But what I really don't need is ANYONE making me feel guilty for being who I am, for listening to myself, for becoming.

So, here, on this first birthday as a full blown man, I walk with my head held high. I have scars. I cry. I hurt. But I also celebrate. And laugh. And sing. I can finally live the full spectrum. I have amazing kids and a bright career ahead. And for the first time I can honestly say, I wouldn't change a thing.
Posted by transman at 8:34 AM 0 comments



SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2009
Whatever happened to the calm after the storm?

So, it has been quite a long time since I blogged. As you can imagine, my brain was mush for a while after the bar exam. I had thought that when the test was over, things would be so relaxing. But, as it turns out, I had let many, many things get behind while I was in the final days of preparation, not the least of which was my social life and personal relationships. As far as the exam, I am cautiously optimistic about my performance on the test. I left feeling beaten, but you are supposed to. So, we will know in Nov. if I was beaten like those before me who are now licensed attorneys or beaten like those with the stories about having to return for a subsequent beating. I'll keep you posted.

As far as the transition goes, all is well. My voice has continued to drop. I have spoken to several friends lately on the phone who are surprised at the amount of bass in my voice. I am finally getting used to the vibrations coming from a physically "lower" spot in my throat. For a couple of weeks there I had a range of about 4 notes when attempting to sing along to the radio in my car. That was upsetting as I do love karaoke and singing in general. My vocalist friend assured me that it was temporary and I would be able to sing again, eventually. It's getting better now but my voice still cracks sometimes. In this respect I am a little like a 14 year old boy.

My face and physique continue to shift and fill out. I was really awkward looking there for a little while. I was a little worried that I wouldn't be cute as a guy... I thought I was pretty cute as a girl... so, that was troubling. But, as it turns out, it was just the awkward "middle school" look. And, thanks to the miracle of very, very ready androreceptors, I passed through it pretty quickly. I still have some pimples but my complexion is fairly clear, so long as I am diligent about washing my face and keep slathering on the Clearasil. Generally, I think I am turning out to be an alright looking guy.

The body hair just keeps on coming. I have more, darker and thicker hair just about everywhere... and I do mean everywhere. This funny little layer of darker, thicker hairs are growing on my arms and wrists. I feel like an animal that is switching from it's summer to winter coat as the new, darker, thicker hairs create an undercoat, of sorts among my thinner blonde hairs. Crazy. My leg hair now looks like a dude since my thighs and knees are hairy now, too. This is good because for a while there it just looked like a girl who stopped shaving. As much as I love feminist theory, I also love American hygiene so I am glad to be out of that phase. My belly now has a full on happy trail. Which, indeed, makes me happy.

My sex drive is crazy. But it is finally leveling off. I have to say that at least now I can go through a day of work or a movie or a drive home without wondering when my next chance for "alone time" might be! Navigating a truly higher physical drive but also wanting to continue to show connection and respect to a partner has been a task. I also have had the experience of feeling like the person you are with (my ex-husband) just wants to take from you... just wants you to "service" him. That feeling is awful. So, I try really hard not to give off that vibe, cause it is not how I feel or what I want our relationship to be like... but when your skin gets hot and your heart starts pounding and your hands have a mind of their own and you feel all edgy, its hard not to look like you are just trying to "get some."

I have gained over 30lbs. I am much stockier than I used to be and the clothes I bought in May DO NOT fit. Small t-shirts are a thing of the past, as are 14 1/2" collars. I am picking up two new suits Sunday afternoon. Very happy about that.

Things are pretty level, emotionally. Mostly, the bar exam maxed me out. I am staring self injections next week. Up until now I have been going into the doc every week. That was comforting for a while but is now just annoying.

Over all, I am very happy with me experience. I have had some interesting thing happen that I will have to fill you in on... sneak peaks at the boys club when I am stealth, thoughts on relationships, and a weird experience with my ex.

More to come... for now...off to watch a movie with my kiddoes. I'll try to write more about them too.

SATURDAY, JULY 11, 2009
Deep, blue Me

So, I went to my Grandfather's burial today. He died on May 10 but my grandmother had to have cancer related surgery right away so, they cremated my Grandaddy and postponed the burial. There were only a few people at the burial, as most people showed condolences at the memorial service in their home town. The crowd consisted of myself, my mom and dad, my aunt and her husband, my other aunt and some second cousins. I got there first, then the group of second cousins. They asked me who I was, and when I told then who my mom was, one of the little old ladies relayed to the group, "Oh! This is T's boy!" I had to smile inside.

Then, my aunt and uncle showed up and my uncle called me "D". So nice. My aunts and grandmother used my male childhood nickname, which works just fine for me. It was a military service, complete with sailors, the flag and taps. As I sat there and listened to the chronicles of how my grandfather had faithfully served our nation, I thought about how I might have loved to serve in the military. Even now, I would love to be a JAG attorney. But no. This opportunity does not exist for me. Despite the fact that over 400 women cross dressed as men in the earliest American wars.

I have been reading "Transgender Warriors" and have been thinking a lot about the persecution suffered by those that have gone before me. From Joan of Arc to Two-Spirited Native Americans to Stonewall and those who fought laws about wearing gender appropriate clothing. I have wondered to myself how what I am doing means so little compared to the advances of generations past.

Then, sitting there at that funeral, it occurred to me that there is so much left to do. So much ground to be fought for. Just because I haven't been raped or beaten or arrested for who I am, does not mean there are not battles for me to fight. I compare the courage it takes for me to come out to professional organizations and friends and family and think it is only marginal compared to those who braved the very real possibility of arrest, physical assault, even death. And sometimes I feel like I should not even put myself in the same category. The generation before me did the REALLY hard work.

Then again, there is so much work left to do. Until insurance plans cover transgender counseling, SRS, and other healthcare costs; until transgendered people can fight for their nation; until the subtle prejudices and oppressions are gone... there is a battle to be fought and won. Maybe my part is transitioning in and remaining in my established community. Maybe my part is being the first out FTM attorney in TX (which I will be when I pass this bloody test). I do not know... but I hope beyond hope that the courage that has paved my way will hold me up to the task- the task of doing my part- the task of being me.

I felt regret that he never knew me as his grandson. And I though about how hard it would be if my Dad dies before he acknowledges me. If I die before he acknowledges me. Would they let me die as D? Would they insist on my birth name on the gravestone? Would I be remembered? (as D? as me?)

Then, we sang an old hymn, "I'll Fly Away." It goes like this:

Some bright morning when this life is over
I'll fly away
To that home on God's celestial shore
I'll fly away

I'll fly away oh glory
I'll fly away (in the morning)
When I die hallelujah by and by
I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone
I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly
I'll fly away

Oh how glad and happy when we meet
I'll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet
I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then
I'll fly away
To a land where joys will never end
I'll fly away

And as I felt the deep, resonating vibrations of my ever deeper voice, singing an octave lower than I have ever sung that song before, I thought about being free. I thought about being free from my body, from gender, from the "cold iron shackles on my feet". I thought about my spirit, apart from my body. . . and I suddenly felt very, very weary. I watched the balloons we let go (I know, bad for the environment but nobody asked me) soar up into the deep blue, the hot wind on my face... I watched the symbol of my Grandfather ascend into space, free from the pain of his aging and ailing body that had been little more than a burden to him since a major stroke in 1993.

And I my own sadness was tempered by feeling happy for his freedom and a splash of anticipation for my own, knowing though it will come in bits and pieces, someday I will be free.
Posted by transman at 9:39 AM


TUESDAY, JULY 7, 2009
Double T

So, I have been enjoying the changes I have seen with T so far. Funny thing though, up until now, I have been thinking about my physical changes in terms of passing, almost exclusively. I have been feeling like the whole purpose behind the transition is to get society at large's perceptions of me to match more completely with my own internal identity. I have been struggling with how shallow and/or silly that sounds as a reason to put myself, my family and my body through this. I have been fighting inside with the conflict between being willing to be myself and not care what people think (a process that started 11 years ago when I began identifying as a lesbian) and my own desire to transition. It seemed, somehow, inherently hypocritical to want to transition largely for the sake of OTHER people's perceptions and then turn around and say I am authentic and I don't care what other people think.

Well, come to find out, I was really holding out on myself. I was having a hard time with the fact that when i looked down at my legs, they are hairy and unshaven. It seemed incongruous and that really bothered me. The only explanation I could come up with was that I am a very hyper-hygiene person and body hair (mine or other guys I have cohabitation with) has always bothered me. It bothered me that when I did not pass, people MUST conclude that I am a butch lesbian who just doesn't shave my legs and armpits. That concept REALLY bothered me. The label "butch" always has. It scared me and made me question but then the slightest thought of going back to "girl" makes me want to hurl. So, I just kind of put it to the side and kept focused on the parts that felt right.

I don't know what happened. I don't know when it happened, but I think I am finally "getting it." I am finally letting myself be a man (in my own mind). I think I was afraid of disassociating with "lesbian" or "queer" because it somehow kept me with one foot in familiar space. Though I was sure I am not a lesbian from a gender perspective, I was still a bio woman who is attracted to women, which, by default kind of keeps me in that category. BUT, just in the last few days, I have verbalized to K, some other friends, and most importantly myself that I am not a lesbian at all. In fact, the idea of being called a lesbian is less and less appealing with every moment that passes regardless of bio the body I am saddled with. And although "queer" resonates in that to me it means "not of typical sexual or gender binary catagorization" I am not sure it will apply to me in the end.

I have worried that being a regular, straight guy was somehow betraying my own experiences and those of the GLBQ people around me. I felt some measure of guilt for being a "middle class white dude". But, alas, here I am. And shhshhhh.... I LOVE IT.

As of a few days ago, I LOVE my hairy legs and can't wait for the more changes. Not because I want other people's perception to match how I feel but because I want MY BODY to match how I feel. For me. And passing is a fringe benefit. I feel like a kid, eager to grow up- to see muscles build and facial hair get course and fill in. Because I am starting to see that there is hope, that someday when I look in the mirror, the man in the mirror will be a reflection of the man on the bathmat. Down to the last wrinkle, bald spot, muscle, or hair.

I think that some of this was brought on by my latest facebook profile pic. It is the first pick where I think i actually LOOK like a guy. I haven't like a picture of myself in a long, long time. There is room for improvement, but damn- I welcome myself to manhood. :)

I don't feel any difference on twice the T, which is good. I was a little worried that I would have the speedy feeling I had at first... so far, all systems are go. I finally stopped the monthly female reminders which is SO NICE. I'll keep you posted of other changes as they occur!

THURSDAY, JULY 2, 2009
KO!

So, the gym guy got back to me... after 2 days of silence, in which time I was sure he had decided he wasn't comfortable with me there. He is completely fine with me being there and was very adamant about wanting me to feel comfortable there. He said he is by no means politically correct but that when it comes to people being jerks about stuff, he doesn't tolerate it. He assured me he was comfortable because his niece is a lesbian. I am not sure that means anything as far as trans issues... but at least the general topic of sexuality (thought that is not the same as gender) is on his radar to some extent. He assured me he would address me as male and all things seem good to go!

So excited!

Independence Day??!?!?

So, the other thing I wanted to address is the fourth of July. I wanted to take my kids out to my grandparents house out in the country so they can set off fireworks, etc. Come to find out my mom and dad will be there at the time I was planning on going. This left me with some options... go Sat instead of Fri, avoid my Dad but miss the city fireworks display; or go Fri and put deal with it so the kids could see their grandparents and great grandparents but be completely uncomfortable, as well as anxiety about my Dad acting like he did at graduation (making judgmental and overtly disapproving comments in front of my kids).

So, I decided to call my Dad and see if we could come to an agreement. I asked him to use my childhood nickname (which is male) and try to avoid female pronouns. I asked him NOT to address the issue in any way in front of the kids. He asked me about if they asked him about it some day... I said he was free to answer there questions honestly but no unsolicited assertions of immorality, etc. He agreed. One thing I can say about my Dad is that if he says he is going to do something, he is going to do it. So, we are going. I will be around them for about 2.5 hours. Baby steps.

Work is winding down and Bar prep is winding up... I am making progress and feeling cautiously optimistic, though painfully aware of the GIGANTIC mountain I have to climb before me. LOTS of info to cram into my brain!
Posted by transman at 10:09 AM 0 comments



MONDAY, JUNE 29, 2009
Fighting Fears

So, I have decided to take up boxing. Not so much the actual contact part... but training like a boxer at a boxing gym. This should develop my core and upper body as well as give me a chace to regularly beat the S... out of things in a 'healthy and controlled' envoronment. This is something my therapist fully supports.

So, I visited this great gym saturday which is close to my house and affordable... I sent the owner the following email in hopes to be able to feel safe there:

Thanks for meeting with me on Saturday. I really enjoyed getting to chat with you and checking out your facility.

I am very interested in training with you but feel I need to be completely up front with you in order for both of us to be comfortable. I am transgendered female to male. I have been on male hormones for 8 weeks and have legally changed my name to 'D' from my female birth name.

If I train with you, I would like NOT to have this information disclosed. I would appreciate being thought of and addressed as male only, meaning male pronouns, sir, etc. One of the objectives of training with you would be to build the masculine physicque. I want to be MUCH more muscular than I am. With hard work and the help of the hormones, this is possible. I also want to lower my body fat and just generally get in great shape, while managing stress, etc. I have never coached or trained anyone with the objective of bulking up, so though I am familiar with the basic principles of high weight, low reps, I want some guidance there, too. I want to be pushed, physically.

As I mentioned, I am low on funds right now, but would like to start the classes basic membership, if you think you would be comfortable with my circumstances and requests. In August, I would probably add the personal training sessions.

Please let me know what you think and if you would feel comfortable with me as a member of your gym.



I sure hope he is down with it.
Posted by transman at 8:08 AM 0 comments
SUNDAY, JUNE 28, 2009
A Day in the Life

So, I thought I would take a few minutes to share my experiences yesterday. This is not intended to in anyway sound like I am feeling sorry for myself. It is just intended to give you a glimpse into the thoughts and considerations of a transman living in the gray, but wishing to be in the blue.

I started out yesterday getting ready for my bar exam review class. I did my usual struggle with which binder, with what underneath with which shirt, etc. I finally found a combination that worked as well as can be expected. I always hope on Saturdays that I will find some more comfortable alternative as I do not have to dress up for work. I do, to some degree, but I still ended up with three layers on top (thank goodness it was ONLY 103 yesterday). I went to class.

During class I had to go to the bathroon twice. I am using the mens room pretty exclusively now. But it is awkward at class becuase a couple hundred of the 350 there knew me pre-transition. So, ending up seeing someone you know well enough to know they know you are a bio girl, but not well enough to have actually talked to about the transision, is awkard. So, with elevated pulse and knotted stomache, I braved the mens room. The fist time, I didn't actually see anyone in there, though a few guys came in while I was in the stall. The second time, one of the guys I know pretty well was in there washing drying his hands and I came out of the stall, thinking he had left. He was fine, we exchanged pleasantries on our way out and I breathed a sigh of relief. He actually didn't seem the list bit surprised or bothered by me being there. That made me feel pretty good.

Next, I wanted to get a haircut. I find that keeping my hair well trimmed helps me pass and K and I were planning on going to a bar b que that evening, a hetero bbq of all strangers to us from an online meetup group. So, I wanted to do everything I could to pass. I debated driving down south and paying a little more to go to a really hip place here in town where my guy knows me, knows my circumstances and is 'fabulous'. BUT, I didnt want to drive or pay that much. So, I thought I would roll the dice. I have been passing more lately and hoped that with my name change and hairy legs sticking out from my cargo shorts, it wouldn't be an issue. Well, I walked in, and looked around. One of the stylists said, "ma'am, you can sign in right there." I almost walked out right then. BUT I signed my MALE name on the waiting list and took a seat. Then, she called me ma'am two more times when telling me it was my turn. I glared at her in what probably looked like, frustration mixed with disbelief and a dash of pain. She kinda clammed up and was very nice, avoiding all personal conversation or gender pronouns from that point on. I left, followed closely by the continuing gazes of two little kids with question marks in their eyes. I only had stinging in mine.

So, then I went to the grocery store seeking preskewered kabobs for the bbq and convenience sake. The older man behind the counter addressed me as sir repeatedly. I felt better, back on track. Then, at the checkout, the cashier just gave me that "what are you?" look and ommitted either gender prefix. I had to show her my DL for the beer, which has my male name but still a giant F on it, since I cant get gender reassigned til after surgery. I looked at my receipt and realized that my club card for that store printed my birth name on the receipt and they ALWAYS look at that and address you by Ms or MR whatever there. She skipped that step and just said have a nice day! I was grateful for her deviance from the status quo whether it was born from awareness, sensitivity, compassion or just confusion.

I went home and checked the mail where I got something from the alumni association at UT. It was addressed to "Ms." DW. They changed my name, they actually had emailed to to confirm my name change, but DID NOT change the prefix... ugh. Think, people.

Next, it was home to clean up, then get ready for the bbq. I got the apt all spic and span and then dressed for the event. I tried on several shirts (again with the binding) and a couple different pairs of shorts. I settled on long khakis and a polo shirt. It could just as easily have been a lesbo-tacular get up. I commented on not feeling too confident about passing to K but my hunger to be in a new environment and test myself, to be seen as male, won out over my anxiety.

We went to the bbq. I stayed silent and nodded at times I might have spoken as a woman. I minded my posture and voice influction. As far as I know, I passed. It was especially cool when one lady said, "typical, huh?" of my love for sports. I like being lumped in with the guys. It feels like being understood.

We came home, talked a little about the evening and about my desire for emotions to be linear. Which apparently is just not going to happen.

Anyway, it is amazing when I stop and think about how pervasive the gender transition is... how many moment of the day I have to make decisions, think about, weigh and risk. It is exhausting.

I am exhausted.
Posted by transman at 3:01 PM 0 comments


SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 2009
Form over Functoin

So, I have come to the conclusion that I have a choice to either be uncomfortable emotionally or uncomfortable physically. The last few days it has been 103-107 degrees in Austin and wearing layers and layers of clothes is NOT physically comfortable.

First, let me explain to those of you who have never witnessed a transman and his struggle to "bind" or compress the breasts untill they are no longer distinquishable as such to the general public. Transmen employ all sorts of techniques, from ace bandages to underarmor to layered sports bras, to "binders" or "binding vests". These binders have three times the spandex in a normal sports bra and are preferrable (at least in my opinion) to ace bandages because they are one piece, eliminating wrinkles AND they bind evenly. This is important becuase people actually end up with injuries from binding like cracked ribs, etc., from uneven pressure and trying to breath. Heaven forbid you can breath. The high spandex content is blended with what amounts to polyester, making a somewhat "rough" material with extra layers on the front, where you need more compression. Binders come in short (extending just below the rib cage) and long (kinda like a full body girdle that goes all the way down over your hips- good also for streamlining "girly" curves).

I have tried many variations of wearing my binders in a quest for a comfortable combination of undershirts, overshirts and appearance. I have tried wearing them with nothing underneath them, but the seams cut in. I have tried wearing a tank underneath them but eventually it starts cutting in under the seams. So, it appears an undershirt under the binder is the best option there. Then, in order to not make it obvious you are wearing a "bra-like" undergarmet, usually another undershirt is necessary on top of that. AND if you are wearing the longer binder, the small enough size to compress ends up rolling UP to your belly from your hips, so a tight belt around your hips is in order. As you may be able to imagine, this makes for many seams around your waste and biting as the day goes on. And of course, then you need whatever shirt you are going to actually wear as part of your outfit.

So, on Thursday, when it was 107 and I had to work, I was wearing a regular men's undershirt, a binder, another undershirt and my button down (sleeves up, at least) all tucked into my slacks with a belt sinched around my hips. Nice.

I have found that now that I am passing a little better, I am even more careful about not going outside without binding, for fear of neighbors thinking twice about their initial determination that I am a dude.

All of this, of course, can be solved by top surgery. But, you have to pay cash, up front (no pun intended). With having been a student for 3 years and $150,000 in educational debt, and the most likely job prospect being a government position with out much pay, I expect that won't happen for a long, long time. I have great insurance with the County BUT any surgery related to Sex Reassignment is considered elective, and thus, not covered. Similarly, my therapy, Testosterone and related blood tests and office visits are NOT covered. So, even with stellar insurance there is a fair amount of out of pocket expense to being a dude. Oh well, I guess it's cheaper than make-up, nails and jewelery!

So, given the choice it looks like I opt for form over function now, which is just the oposite of how I looked at things when I was a the tomboy who wore tennis shoes, jeans and T-shirts all the time. Which brings me to another point... since the transition, I am taking MUCH better care of myself. I care MORE what I look like, eat better, work out more and have eliminated sodas (with only an occassional indulgence). Who would have thought? So, while binding is just that, it's worth the flat chest, "sir's" and confidence it yeilds.
Posted by transman at 12:18 PM

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24, 2009
Catching Up

So, it has been almost a month since I have made an entry. For those of you who had gotten in the somewhat regular habit of reading our blog, I must apologize. As you know, I have graduated, changed jobs and am now studying for the bar. The last few weeks the kids were here, too. So, time to actually think coherent thoughts was a luxury, not to mention having a chance to actually put them down on paper (so to speak). So, let me break this entry up into topics:

7 weeks on T

Monday was seven weeks on T. I am taking a relatively small dosage (25mg per week). This is a typical dosage for a rookie like me. Many transmen have said that this dosage resulted in frustration for them due to the slow changes. I have to say, though that given the way the first dose of 50 mg hit me, I am pretty content with this dose until I get "over the bar." I really can't afford any foggie-headed-ness. Though I wish I could snap my fingers and have all the secondary male characteristics, I have to say I am pretty happy with the changes that are happening so far which are as follows:

a tiny Adam's apple (more palpable than visible but there nonetheless)
lower voice (yet still being called ma'am sometimes in the drive through or on the phone)
8 whiskers on my upper lip (I am blond and have fine hair anyway so these darker, slightly course guys are reason to rejoice!)
a vague shadow of a happy trail below my belly button
Body fat redistribution (my hips and butt are shrinking while my chest and arms are bulking up resulting in a much more tapered look)
Growth "down under" (not as scary as I thought it would be)
Increased sex drive (17 year old boy)
Less cellulite on my thighs and butt (the typical 34 year old woman hail damage is almost completely gone)
Increased energy (used to need solid 8 hours of sleep, 5-6 works now)
face shape is changing a bit (maybe just since I am losing body fat)
Muskier scent
Increase in sweating
Oilier skin and thus, ACNE! (34 and using Clearasil- :\ )
Crazy appetite (hold on... gotta grab a PB&J)
Higher alcohol tolerance

The hot flashes have subsided, thankfully. I have now had 2 periods while on T... hoping that is the last of 'em. Only time will tell. Nothing like puberty AND menopause simultaneously.

I think that is all I can come up with right now... all good. I talked to my nurse about upping my dosage after the bar and that should be about the right timing- it usually is every 3 months or so. I am really hoping that by Sept. when I go on the cruise I am feeling buff and confident.

Father's Day
Father's Day this year brought an onslaught of emotions. It feels much more like I should be celebrating this day than Mother's day did. I felt awkward getting Mother's Day cards from my kids. I mean, I will always be their mother... the only mother they have, and I will cherish that experience... but it is so much more natural now to be male with them. I don't feel like I am trying to stretch to parent them. I am just being me.

And of course, there is my own father. We have not spoken since he sent me the email (see excerpt in "the response"). I struggled with what to do... should I send a card? Call? I decided to do neither. As one of my friends said, "If you are not his son, he is not your father." I am not really feeling bitter or vindictive, I just didn't have anything to say to him. And I don't want to perpetuate the family tradition of acting like everything is fine.

Yesterday I talked to my mom and she said my sister didn't call him either. He had a "sad" day. I don't know what is up with my sister but I think it is interesting that neither of us feel compelled to connect with him, even on the one day of the year specifically set aside to do so. Maybe cause we have learned the futility of the effort.

My mom also said my Dad would be willing to see me on "my turf." What the heck? He told me I could not go to his house dressed as male, but he will come here?!?!? And what, call me my birth-name and "girl" and "she" all the while? Just as he told me what the ground rules were for me being in his world, I think it is time I lay ground rules for him being in mine. If we are setting boundaries and making "demands" then, so be it. I will ask him to use male pronouns and at the very least use the male nickname I grew up with.

Transitioning is like...

As I have struggled to find a way to think about what is happening to me, my body, my heart, my spirit... the best analogy I can come up with is that transitioning is like moving to a new city. You finally got the chance to relocate to that place you had only visited before. That place you always wanted to live.

So, you get the chance and you take the plunge. You wrap up all your breakables, say goodbye to your friends, sell off most of your stuff cause you can't lug it all there with you. And you just want a fresh start. Then, you arrive. Some places are familiar. You go into the Target and it is still a Target like anywhere else. You see golden arches and people still drive on the right side of the road, etc. But, you aren't quite sure how those roads connect, where was that Mc'ie D's you saw before? And somehow that couch looks bigger in this new place. And you find a few of your things got broken in the move...maybe glue will fix 'em. But maybe not... it might be best just to let 'em go. And there are all sorts of new places to explore. Some of them are sunny and amazing and fun. Some of them are dark and shadowy and scary.

Some mornings you still wake up alarmed, unsure of where you are for just a nano-second. Then, you remember and wonder what the day will hold in this new place. You get up and go to make coffee. You open the fridge to get out the creamer and smile at the fresh, new, sparkling shelves that greet you. Then, you realize you forgot to get creamer... and you wonder if it is worth going out. You think about how you will get to the store, if you can remember. You might have to pull out a map or check the bus/subway schedule to figure it out. Maybe you can just run to the convenience store. Or, where was that McDonald's?

You think back, somewhat longingly about your old place. About the relative ease with which you navigated that city and those days. But you know that was then and this is now. And you know that was there and this is here. And here is where you belong. Even if it is harder for now. Lonely for now. Unfamiliar for now. This is what you wanted. Even if it is not what you expected.

I am sure, like setteling into a new city, that time will make things easier. I am sure eventually I will get dressed without giving thought to WHICH binder will work best or if my glasses feminize my face too much to pull em off with this outfit. I am sure eventually I will be able to go by a mirror and NOT stop to inspect my face for hairs or flex to compare to yesterday. I am sure that the voice that comes out of my mouth will not buck and crack and dart it's way through conversations, trying to sound one way to someone that hasn't gotten the memo and another way to try to pass. I hope that soon I can figure out how to arrange the things I have brought with me in a way that honors them, but in a way they can naturally blend into their new home. My new home. My new me.

I like this new city and this new city likes me... we just have a lot of getting to know each other to do so I can trust her. So, I can be home.

The Kids

B and Bk were just here for a little over 2 weeks. It was fun and amazing. I really enjoyed my time with them... maybe more than I ever have before. I took Ben to football camp at UT. That boy already bleeds burnt orange. It was so interesting watching the men with their sons. Watching the boys interact. I found myself getting goosebumps (I know, not very manly) and wishing I had had the opportunity to grunt and sweat and tackle when I was a boy. I do love football. I love the epic struggle, the proving ground. Oh, and Ben had fun, too. :)

Bk went to theater camp. We got to go see the production at the end of the week and it was great to see her light up. She loves acting and drama and the like. I am trying to figure out how to connect with her in that arena. I will say that relating to her as male has made me MUCH more comfortable with affection. Much more open to her physical closeness and she is one snuggly kid.

We swam a lot. I threw them around the pool, even though they are almost as tall as I am. Thank goodness for increased upper body strength courtesy of T. B has really started calling me "sir" and "boss" (rather than mom). He is loving being able to wrestle with me and our interaction seems open and natural now. Bk is having a little harder time. She is trying to figure out what to call me. She doesn't like "Boss". She thinks she needs something warmer. So, we will keep searching until something resonates with both of us. She did ask about coming to live with us next school year. That is a tough request as I am sure my ex will fight it... but we shall see.

In Conclusion

In conclusion I am very happy with where I am now. The transition has put a strain on my relationship with K, in that we are both trying to figure out the new city together. Sometimes we end up lost together, sometimes we get separated. But we keep working to find each other and we always do.

I feel guilty sometimes about all this. About this "mess" I have gotten us into. About not being what she signed up for. About asking so much of her. And it is hard to let her love me. To believe she is and will and does. I have to fight shutting down, walling off and running away. I get tired of being tired. I feel isolated and alone often... but usually that is because I have run down into a rabbit-hole or am standing there with my eyes squeezed shut.

I am looking for new outlets for social interaction... some new people that won't know I am trans and some new people (or reconnecting with old friends) that can provide safe, queer space. Feeding both of those parts of me is important. And I have come to realize that guys are hard to hang out with... since generally social stuff isn't so on their radar... I have joined a couple of meet up groups for adventure stuff (hiking kayaking, etc.) and am looking forward to meeting some new people through that.

For now, I got to get through the bar- 1 month and 3 days from now. Yikes! So, forgive my infrequent posts. And take the time to tell someone you believe in them today. You never know what they might have going on that you don't see. You never know who might need directions. You never know who might be lost in a new city.
Posted by transman at 4:36 PM 1 comments


THURSDAY, MAY 28, 2009
The Response

So, as I was writing the last blog, I got an email. From my Dad. He finally responded to my email to him from a month ago. I will paste the paragraph that basically says it all here:

I am reminded of the words of Paul as he describes God’s reaction to the sinfulness of the unregenerate part of humanity when he wrote, “Therefore God also gave them up to uncleanness, in the lusts of their hearts, to dishonor their bodies among themselves, who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever.” (Romans 1:24-25 NKJ) I feel that you have made your choices and moved so far beyond truth that I am unable to reach you.

He went on to say he is proud of me and loves me but cannot be part of my life if I chose this. Funny thing. I sure hope as a parent, I never condemn my children for being authentic. I did not chose to be TG. I did not chose this road. I have only chosen to make the best out of what I have been given, which to me means living the most real, authentic and genuine life I can. I have no idea what my ultimate purpose on this earth is, but I am sure I cannot attain it while hiding in fear, cowering to society's qualms or using my energy to stuff myself into a box composed of someone else's expectations.

The sum total of my current reaction to my Dad is, "Well shit. Bummer." And I don't mean to be dismissive about it... but it is what I expected and I have been around this block with him before. Our relationship has never been based on who I really am, even despite his efforts to look the other way. Or, perhaps, because of his efforts to look the other way. I keep thinking of the scene from Karate Kid where Mr. Miagi is teaching Daniel son to bow and Daniel bows and looks at the ground. Miagi smacks him on the head and says, "Look eye, Daniel son. Always look eye." I am not sure my Dad's eyes have ever met mine. There has been no mutual exchange of respect.

So many people tell me I am brave. But really, I am just stubborn. I am too stubborn to waste time once something becomes clear to me. I had a moment of clarity on this issue, and it made my childhood, my wounds and my pain suddenly make sense. It is so freeing not to have to pretend anymore. I cannot unlearn this. I cannot turn back. So, it is necessity, not courage that drives me forward.

I will say that over the last few weeks, the urgency surrounding my transition has wained a little for me. I think this is because 1) I have done all I can do for now and 2) the backlog of male energy now has somewhere to go. Living everyday as trans, presenting as male as I can (while waiting with tapping toes for the T to work its magic) has taken the edge off. I think it is like the tide has turned and is now pulling away from the shore instead of crashing into it. The waves are still there, still steady, but retreating systematically in a never ceasing cycle. I am sure the tide will turn again and I will have another push.

Sometimes this lack of force scares me a little and I wonder if I have made a mistake. And then I think about being A again, about being a girl again, and it takes me about .005 seconds to figure out I am right where I want to be.

I talked at group last week about how it is hard not to hypermasculinize to pass... I am a talkative person, which isn't a particularly male trait. Most guys are strong and silent types and wait to be engaged by another. Add my still girly voice to the mix and all my talking certainly undermines me. That makes me want to be quiet and reserved so I don't out myself. But, this is about being more of me so I hesitate to change that just to pass. I am also wary of becoming the "jerk". But it was nice to talk about it in group and hear them say it is natural to go through a little over compensation to pass while in this holding pattern. So, I am still trying to find my place in that regard. A place that will change over time, as my body changes, as I lose my learned feminine tenancies.

Right now the passing issue sucks. I think I pass about 85% of the time, unless I talk, then I'm down to about 15%. K and I were at McDonald's in Lampasses (small Tx town- where passing should be easier cause they aren't used to seeing butches too much) and I was initially addressed as "sir". Then, on our way out, the clerk, who I think was trying to make up for his "mistake" said, "you ladies have a safe trip." ugh. really?

It also frustrates me that I even care about that. I mean, really, who cares about what some pimple faced kid at McDonald's thinks or how he reads me? It is just amazing to me how much harder it is for me to deal with knowing I am a guy and people missing that than it was for the 34 years I thought of myself as a lesbo and called it good. The other day I snapped at K for saying something that "could" have outed me to in front of a store clerk. It is just so frustrating to care, especially enough to hurt someone who really loves me over something so small. Sigh.

That is another thing... I hate the term butch being applied to me. I really hate it. I always have. Don't really know why. I mean, it makes sense I would hate it now, but before I hated it. One time my friend told me I was a 100 footer (meaning you could tell I was lesbo at 100 feet). I couldn't argue but it bugged me. We discussed the whole butch thing and I told her then how much I hated that. So, now that I am PURPOSELY dressing as a man, stopped shaving my pits and legs and have a boy haircut, I could ONLY be considered a total butch if read as a woman. No bueno.

I started my new job at the County Atty's office. The bathroom thing sucks. It also sucks at the bar study classes. Many of the people there know me from before at law school, so going into the guys bathroom would be awkward, but I don't wanna go into the girls. So, i spend at least one of my breaks crossing the street to go to a convenience store, which mercifully has one, gender neutral bathroom.

Other than the bathroom thing, the CA's office has been pretty cool. I have no idea who there knows, other than my boss and her admin assistant. I don't care... as people are generally treating me as a guy, I think... whatever that means. I did have one older guy tell me yesterday (day 2) that he is glad I ditched my tie after day 1. I played it off telling him I just wanted to error on the side of overdressed till I got a feel for the office. He agreed that was safest and smartest. And we seemed to connect as dudes. And that felt really good. I don't think he knew I was really wearing a tie to try to minimize my androgyny.

I have an interview Monday with a firm. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I'll keep you all in the loop. And feel free to pass this link on to whomever you think might enjoy or benefit from it...and thanks for the smattering of supportive emails... you guys have no idea how nice it is to be accepted and encouraged in this endeavor. Especially when I have "one of those days."

Peace Out!
Posted by transman at 3:24 PM

MONDAY, MAY 25, 2009
3 weeks

So, here I am at 3 weeks on T. I have to say that the only real changes I am feeling are that my voice is dropping (I now sound like an ill smoker, though I am neither ill nor smoking), increased sex drive and increased appetite.
Posted by transman at 5:21 PM

WEDNESDAY, MAY 13, 2009
It's Official!

So, as I mentioned in my last blog... name change was going to be my next hurdle. So, yesterday I tried to get my fingerprints done before leaving town to go to my gd's memorial service (more on that later). I got up early enough but had trouble getting out of the house, exploded a bit on K, then apologized profusely and admitted my anxiety and finally got downtown to where the sheriff's dept was supposed to be doing "official" finger prints. Of course, they had moved but NOBODY updated the online info. So, I was told I could go to any DPS (driver's license) office... I wandered around downtown, looking for the one I remembered from when I registered to vote back in the fall. Couldn't find it... wandered around some more... finally! It is the regional DPS headquarters. BUT they don't do fingerprints there. Of course not. I have to go north, opposite of where I need to go to get to my gd's. So, I scrapped it.

I went on to SA for the memorial. I was, of course in my suit and tie. I went over to my Grandmother's and my mom, two aunts, and one uncle were there with my GM. I walked in, and everything seemed pretty normal. My GM said nothing at all about my suit and tie. Nobody said anything. Works for me. Later, my Dad showed up. Again, nothing was said. I guess in these situations my family's art of carefully walking around the giant elephant in the room (and the steaming pile of poo) can be helpful. My cousin (whom I hadn't told) showed up but didn't say anything either. I guess they are all used to me being kinda on the guy side dress wise. *shrug*

So, we all went up to the service and I just laid low. My mom wanted me to sit by her in the front row. My cousin took a picture of me and my Mom together (first one of "us" where I am me!) The service was really beautiful, moving but not awful. Just good. My Aunt, who knows about me as trans, even used my childhood nickname which is the male derivative of my old name (go figure) when listing the survivors. Very nice of her. There were a few awkward moments when my mom was trying to figure out how to say the equivalent of, "this is my daughter, A." But wasn't quite sure she should or could say, "this is my son, D" since many people there knew she only had daughters but other knew nothing at all... tough mix. One nice old lady watched me put the powder sugar covered sand tarts on the platter one by one and said, "If you get those on there with out getting that powdered sugar on your suit, you're a miracle man." That felt good. And apparently, I am a miracle man. :) Then, my cousin, the same one I haven't told, said... "Good job, food lady." UGH. really? Several times she referred to me as the granddaughter, girl, woman, chick. She didn't know... but there was really no time to explain...

Afterward, I was pretty drained but proceeded to help carry stuff and fit right in with the men in the family and those manly tasks of hauling, rearranging furniture, etc. It sure is nice not to have heels on! Then, we sat around my GM's for a while and talked about who was there, who sent which flowers, etc. We reviewed the pics my cousin took and when my mom saw the one of us together, she said, "What a nice picture, I think that is the best picture we have ever taken together!" I think it is the ONLY picture WE have ever taken together. And I think my mom just might be seeing me and that this is real. Good to be visible, finally.

So, then my mom and dad took us out to dinner and we joked around and it was as good, if not better than old times. My mom joked about calling me soughter (son+daughter) or something like that. My Dad just kept quite in that part of the convo but was good natured about it. Later he even flicked a runaway ice cube across Red Lobster! So, he was in a pretty good mood. Glad to get the ice broken before graduation! Who would have thought?

So, back to today. I went and got my fingerprints, filed the motion, got it signed by the judge all by 9:30 this morning! Then, I changed my bank accounts, social security card, school records, bar exam application, and filled out all the paper work for my new job! All as DMW, officially. Now, I don't' have to worry about being outed by my DL or my checks or bank account, etc. My new paychecks at my new job will be in my new name, etc. My id there won't be an issue, now. And everyone along the way was just incredibly helpful! The judge and court people were kind; the guy at the ss office was cool- he even asked if this would cause any trouble with my friends. I responded with, "most of them are like- 'It's about time!'" :) The lady at the school entered my info right then and there despite the stack of name changes in front of her about an inch thick. I snuck a peek at the top one and it was submitted a month ago! Hee hee!

So, long but productive day. I also worked 6 hours today at the office.

Other updates: I feel hungry - ALL THE TIME. I haven't noticed much else except being hot a lot and I think I am losing fat on my thighs.

I need to lock productive, happy days like today in my memory banks... so when days suck I can draw strength from the smiles of the people that have helped me (clerks, judges, etc.) and wished me luck on my journey.

The world is a little kinder than I expected it to be. . .and a little more evolved. I can't help but be grateful for the pioneers that went before me and all the other out trans/gay/lesbian/alter-anything people that have had the courage to be them, making it easier to be me.


Posted by transman at 3:23 PM 0 comments


MONDAY, MAY 11, 2009
one week

well, here i am one week post T. It has been a heck of a week. As I posted last time, right after my injection, I was totally pumped. Well, about 36 hours later that euphoria disapated and I was wondering if it would be worth it. I felt like I had taken the worste allergy medicine in the whole world. My head was achey and things seemed to get worse after my last post. I was foggy headed and tired. Feeling really frustrated. But I am still not sure what was the T and what was other factors.

Since then, things have leveled off physically but I have been struggling a bit emotionally. It just takes so much energy to face everyday full of hazards and funny looks. This morning I woke up, knowing that we (my boss an I) were going to Federal court today. Well, normally, this is cause for celebration. But, this morning, I was dreading it. At the fed ct house you have to show your id. I was worried about how my boss was going to introduce me to his co-counsel from out of town. My boss is pretty old and sometimes forgets names anyway, so i doubted his ability to remember my "new" name, despite my suit and tie.

I was so afraid we would be there, going through the metal detector and the gaurd would be like, hey! This isn't your id... this says female... what are you trying to pull? and then i pictured my boss introducing me as A. And the threat of this made my heart sink. I cried before I even got out of bed this morning. It was the first time in my short legal career that I have not been excited about going to court.

It all ended up fine...nobody said a word. I got sired and went later than my boss so no introductions were even attempted on anybody's part. Then, I just went back to my office and toiled away.

In other news, I got a kick butt tatoo. K is going to have to show me how to upload a photo onto the blog but I will get one up asap. It is a tribal sytlized version of the transgender symbol. I love it. It did not even hurt that much. and only felt like a sunburn the few days after.

I thought graduation was going to be my unveiling as D to my family, even though i have told them, seeing is believing... as it turns out, my grandfather died Sunday and his memorial service is t0morrow. I will be wearing a suit and tie. I am worried people will think i am being a jerk and self centered but the fact of the matter is that I only have guys clothes now. So, even if i did want to wear a girl suit, which I SOOOOO do not, I could not. And I could NEVER do make up and heels again. So, D it is. But it will be another day of anxiety and potential embarassment.

I have been feeling a lot of fear lately. I am worried that the T will not have effects I want and that I will still just look like a girl, or a little boy, in guys clothes when it is all said and done. I spent some time on You Tube today and that helped. Lots of trans guys on there look like a scrawny boy like me prior to T but most of them look great now. And for the most part, it only took a couple of months for voice and face changes to kick in.

Oh, my new job will now start on the 26. That is actually good, more chance for voice change before meeting everyone. and i checked into legal name change today and i think i am going to tackle that asap. I can get name change without gender change pretty quickly and for only a couple hundred bucks. So, first thing tomorrow, I am off to get fingerprints, etc. THe county i live in even had forms online, etc. So, it should be no problem. If I can get my name changed BEFORE graduation and the bar exam, then life will be easier down the line. I do want the gender change but I can hold off on that and more than likely take care of that myself later, too.

Next Monday bar exam review starts. UGH. No rest for the weary. But at least the end is in sight. As is the end of this blog entry... yawn. night night.
Posted by transman at 9:13 PM

Lucky Guy

So, I found out I passed the bar exam on Nov 5th. I went to Chicago to celebrate with my best friend, L. She threw a party Friday night, then we went to the ND v. Navy game in South Bend Sat. We had such a good time. Sunday, we went and did some touristy stuff in the city.

There happened to be a Trans photo-documentary at the Northwestern University Social Sciences Library. It consisted of 5 bios of transfolks and several photos of each. It was really cool. It was so validating to read that many of the subjects had had similar feelings to mine. Particularly how one transguy hated being called "butch." Because he was never butch... he is a guy. I have had that exact conversation with L when I was trying to figure out why "butch" offended me so much before I had come to terms with my trans status. There were many other examples...I almost started crying right there in the library. I felt less alone in those moments than I had in months. I have lots of support but it is funny how just knowing others all over the country have the same feelings. It kinda makes you feel like you aren't crazy. I have experienced this while watching Youtube vids too. L said she gained a lot from it because it was like, "Yeah, I have heard 90% of this before."

Then, I came back to Austin and had dinner with W to celebrate. Then, the people at the office brought a huge spread to celebrate last Friday. Today, a group of the paralegals walked into "my" office, bottles of sparkling cider in hand and said we were going to toast to my passing the bar! It just keeps going! Oh, and Monday was the swearing in and my folks came up and took me and my kids to a very nice lunch after the ceremony. I love it.

Having all these people to celebrate with sure makes me feel like a lucky guy.

And I have a second date with a really amazing woman tonight. She is straight and does not know about my trans status. But she will tonight. I am going to tell her before things go too far. I really hope she can understand my plight and can accept the hand I have been dealt. But that seems like high hopes. Then again, people do keep surprising me. We shall see.

I'm a lucky guy, either way and eventually will have that special person in my life. Hope is good.

To my pops

So, my Dad recently recanted his initial rejection of my transition and told me he was going to "be open" to "my decision". It is funny how much easier it is to feel gratitude when you aren't writhing inside. I sent him this email:

Thanks for:

working long hours to provide for us.
making me take typing.
teaching me to drive a stick.
teaching me to be on-time.
teaching me how to change a tire.
helping me recognize the value in rising early, working hard and keeping after it.
teaching me not to sweat the small stuff.
modeling good grammar.
telling me you are proud of me.
co-signing for my law school loans.
being willing to admit when you make a mistake.

and most of all- for giving us a chance.

-A*** (my male childhood nickname that we have agreed we can both live with)

Forest or Tree?

So, being recently single has forced me to think about how to date, what I want in a partner now and the ever lingering question of when do you tell them that under your clothes, your body is not quite what they expect?

I actually joined a dating website, kinda out of boredom and curiosity. Nothing fancy, or that I have to pay for... just a toe in the water. I thought about seeking out bi-sexual women, hoping that their ability to be attracted to either gender might pave the way for more acceptance. Lesbians are kinda out if they are only attracted to women. I have found that this generally means they also feel more comfortable with the dynamics of two women rather than a man and a woman, in addition to being sexually attracted to the female form. As of now, I no longer have the female form. I have arrived at the place where my body shape, voice and appearance all register to others as male. If someone doesn't know... they just don't know.

But ultimately, I'd like to date and eventually marry someone who fully embraces the traditional gender roles. I think about the things that I have missed out on so far in life, having been forced away from my natural bent (like playing football, unabashedly opening doors and being the protector/provider, being called "Dad") and I long for a do-over.

But all this thinking about dating and future had me kinda fixated on my trans status. I think about what I am saying, how I am coming off, etc. and hope that I don't out myself because I am not an asshole and apparently (sorry, guys) the overwhelming majority of guys are. That being said a good friend of mine pointed out that being trans isn't what makes me do everything I do... it isn't what makes me who I am. Having been deeply entrenched in the process for the last 8 months, her comment was like someone "zooming out" on my image finder screen.

It occurred to me that I am not who I am today, I am not kind and sensitive and a hopeless romantic because I was born in a female body. I am not unique because I am trans- I am who I am today because of the cumulative effect of all the experiences in my life. I cannot even say that I can connect with women because I know what it feels like to be a woman, because I have never been a woman. I think my insight comes from two things- #1. Thirty-four years with more estrogen than testosterone (thus allowing me to be more aware of and in touch with emotions other than anger, emotions that now surface as anger but because of my experience prior to T, I understand are something else) and #2. Being in the inner circle of females for so long. Just as the boys club is now accessible to me and I am learning things about male culture that I didn't know before when I wasn't allowed in, I know things that most men don't because I was, erroneously and by default allowed in to the girl's club (though I spent most of my time looking for the emergency exit).

I will say that having this knowledge and experience makes me love and respect women even more. I know what it feels like to be the underdog in the power scheme. I never even really noticed how I felt walking around knowing on some level that most men around me could physically overpower me anytime they wanted to. I didn't realize the vulnerability that that creates. Now, now that I weigh 30 lbs more and am significantly stronger and I could physically overpower most women (no offense intended) I realize how different it is. And a man that has never been on the other side certainly cannot empathize. This gives me so much respect for women and their trust. If a woman allows me to be in her "bubble" I see that as a gift and am determined NOT to burst that bubble or fail to appreciate the trust inherent in the gift.

In short, though being trans is so difficult sometimes and it often feels like a curse, it more often feels like a blessing. My life, my experiences, the opportunity to have fought through an abusive marriage, divorce, faith crisis, undergrad, single mothering, custody battles, break ups and 85% of law school being perceived "as a woman"... coming to the place that I was proud of where I was and who I was and what I had accomplished was just the threshold to a new world, a new life-> to me. And I love this me and finally feel like I deserve success, respect and prosperity in all things. I finally feel like I can just be.

And as it turns out my trans status is not the forest; it is just a tree.

From Boy to Man

So, today is my son's 13th birthday. Today is the day he steps into being a teenager. Today, by some cultures, he is a man. When I got to work today my mom sent me this message reflecting on his birth:

Wow! 13 years!
I remember:

Our trip up to the Continental Divide and you driving down, in labor, icy roads, yikes
You and Tom went to the movies while I waited at the cabin in case the baby came
The smell of chicken boiling while the midwife did her thing
The absolute joy of seeing Ben join us in this world
The cold, quiet, clear morning… sitting out on the deck
The very tiny, very precious little Ben snuggled up in the corner of the baby bed

We won’t mention some of the things like altitude sickness, migraine headaches, etc.

It got me to thinking... and evoked this response:

Crazy, huh?

It is so strange for me to reflect back on that time. I always felt so guilty that I didn't feel how I was "supposed" to feel about being pregnant, etc. I never had that giddy, maternal thing going on. I always felt bad about not "connecting" to that experience. It is strange how now, knowing what I know about myself, it all seems okay. I did a good job, a darn good job and somehow managed to stay present as a parent, even when I could barely be present with myself. Being pregnant seemed distant, even then. It was like an out of body experience, surreal in every way.

I am so grateful for the 13 years I have been blessed with Ben and the opportunity to bring him into the world and help grow him up into the person he is here to be. It is a little scary to have the job of teaching him to be a man, when I just barely ahead of him in the process. I guess at the end of the day, it is really about each person learning to be their own very best self. If my experiences have taught me anything, it is how to be true to myself and how to help others feel safe to be themselves. I think that puts me in a pretty good spot.

Thanks for all you have done to propel me down this path to self. I know sometimes you feel like you messed up. I know sometimes you regret things... but just know that you did a good job and I am grateful that you let me be a tom-boy (with perpetually skinned up knees and elbows, sweat dripping, dirt ground in and a soccer ball at my feet). That in and of itself saved my life, the life you gave me through your own sacrifice of body and soul. And each time you encourage me in my transition you give me life all over again.

Thank you.

We've come a long way, baby!

Your Loving and Ever Grateful Son,
-
Andrew