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.