I’m a terrible, awful, no good, very bad blogger! I’ve been so incredibly neglectful over the last few months, but I promise it’s been for good reason.
Things have been crazy, and are finally getting back to a semblance of normal.
See, what had happened was…
Trans men have benefit of male privilege, particularly if they are white. But with this privilege comes a certain amount of invisibility.
We lose our former lesbian identities, we lose the ability to give that “I see you” head nod to the lesbian couple at the coffee shop, we lose the ability to smile at pretty much any woman without it being seen as skeezy. We are men, and as such, are generally seen as threatening among the female general population. If we smile at another dude, then we’re probably gay, and want to get in your pants. But we learn to adjust to all these new things.
It’s been a while, and for that I apologise. I’ve been laid up the past month because (get this) of a cat bite!
No, seriously.
A cat bite.
Mind you, I’d been bitten before; occupational hazard of being a groomer for a number of years, and working in rescue. But this one took the cake.
Before everyone starts in with the “asshole cat” comments, I would like to point out that it was one of my fosters, and he was about to get eaten by four, very large, idiot dogs, so it really wasn’t his fault.
Because of the bite I won three surgeries, a week in the hospital, take-home IV antibiotics, a finger that doesn’t work, and months of physical therapy to try and convince said finger to work. Go me! It did, however, let me experience being trans* in a healthcare setting NOT my PCP.
I’ll admit, I was nervous. Luckily, because my name change happened early on, there were no slips there. I was concerned about mis-gendering and such once people realized I had breasts and a vagina. Maybe my doctors and nurses were especially awesome, or maybe the hospital itself made sure their staff was well educated. Maybe getting my name changed early was the best thing I could have done. Or maybe being trans* in a hospital setting really isn’t as bad as some people make it out to be.
Today is a red-letter (pun intended) day for those of us living in the red, red, red state of Arizona. Marriage equality has finally managed to work its way through all the hate-mongers, right-wing idiots and our lawmakers. Facebook is filled with excitement, friends running down to the courthouse to get that piece of paper, so they can finally be legally recognised by a state that still thinks gay marriage is a mistake.
I am excited. I am happy. But then there’s… something else. A feeling I’m not entirely sure how to express. Six months ago, my partner and I were talking about (hypothetically) our big gay wedding. For most of my adult life, I assumed that when I got married it would be this fabulous affair, with two women at the alter. Now, with the nifty little ‘M’ on my license, that dream isn’t going to happen. I mean, it might, sort of. The plot would be similar, but the characters will have changed.
Unless I choose to marry a man.
Last night I saw my father and step-mom for the first time in two years, and the first time since starting my transition.
I’m still a little bit at a loss for words. It was such a bizarre experience. I’m going to attempt to talk about it, but you’ll have to forgive me if my post seems a little disjointed. It was a little surreal.
First off, let me preface this with apologies for not posting in a while. I found life getting busy, and I ended up being asked to blog with a group of bloggers, so I’ve been trying to help get that off the ground. (Note: you may come across identical or similar postings while perusing WordPress. I promise there is no plagiarism happening! I may simply be cross-posting.) But I’m back and will try to be far more diligent than I have been of late. So without further ado… On to the post!
Being trans* is tricky. It’s not a simple matter of waking up one day, deciding I’m going to be a man, and then that’s it. Making the decision to transition, whether it be from male to female or female to male, often puts an individual at a much higher risk than simply being gay.
Most of us in the LGBTQ community have felt unsafe at some point in our lives while out in public. Anyone biologically female feels at risk most of their lives, especially when alone, while out in public. Flamboyant gay men will often fear for their safety while simply walking to their cars from the bar. And we’ve all seen and heard about the violence perpetuated against trans women.
But what about trans men?
I just watched a YouTube video made by a young trans man, who started transitioning in high school, celebrating his fifth year on testosterone. It made me think.
Yes, there is still so far to go in terms of acceptance and whatnot, but it really is easier for trans* youth today than it was 20 years ago, when I was in high school.
I am envious of these empowered youth.
It’s been a rough week. Hell, it’s been a rough couple weeks. So today, I give you this… Enjoy! 😉
Fairly short post today, kids.
For most people, at least in the US, there are three major milestones throughout one’s young adult life:
Age 16 – The age most people get their drivers license.
Age 18 – The age you’re finally legal in the eyes of the law.
Age 21 – The age you’re REALLY legal, in the eyes of society. 😉
Well, today, I became legal… again. Went to Social Security and the DMV and, according to my license, I’m now legally male. My old name is slowly starting to fade away, be erased, which I am thrilled about. This does not, however, mean that the old ME is being erased. I am who I ever was, just better.
Just. Better.
Transginger 