I am I, Sir Eli

At karaoke last week, I got a compliment from one of the other regulars, Orlando. He's there every week, usually in a tie or a nice sweater, with his carefully coiffed 3 day beard, and always singing "This Love" by Maroon 5 or "My Humps" with Miss Jackie or both. He's super friendly, and sweet, and I just like him to pieces. Thursday I guess he was a little drunker than usual, because he sang something different...Man of La Mancha, which I just loved. Usually I get a little impatient with the Broadway Boys who come into karaoke and try to show off their coulda-been-a-contender/headliner chops with Suddenly Seymour or what have you. But I happen to just love "Man of La Mancha"- it's such a roaring, uplifting song, and it was on this CD that I was briefly obsessed with late middle school- "My Favorite Broadway: the Leading Ladies." Anyway, awesome song, Orlando did quite a credible job with it, and when he got off the stage I high-fived him, which he graciously accepted, before leaning in to close (and somewhat beery) range.

"Eli! I really don't want to be offensive, but can I just tell you something?"

Oh, shit. I really hate it when people preface statements with some variation on "No offense, but..." because invariably they're going to immediately follow it with something extremely offensive. Everytime I hear such words, it makes me tighten my stomach like Houdini getting ready for a punch. Still, I like Orlando a lot, and he's never been anything but sweet, and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I said "Of course! What's up?"

"You look so damn good these days! Seriously!"

I started laughing a little at this point, and he leaned in even closer to give me a hug, repeating "Seriously! I mean it! You're so cute! If I saw you in a bar somewhere, I would be all over you, I would rip you a new one!" He pulled back from our hug, and, misinterpreting the look on my face, backtracks a little "Or maybe you'd rip me one, eh? Eh??"

At that point, all I could do was laugh a little more and tell him to stop making me blush.

A sweet compliment from a sweet guy, and I can take it almost 100% unproblematically. The tiny bit of hesitation comes from the slight backhanded nature of the compliment, which Orlando could clearly feel, too, else he wouldn't have prefaced such a nice thing to say with a preemptive apology. Non-trans folks complimenting trans folks on how "good" we look often carries a flavor of patronizing approval that doesn't sit entirely well with me. It's kind of like saying "aww, good for you, you look just like a real boy now!" as opposed to, say, the 'fake' boy that I used to look like?

I don't need someone to tell me how "real" I look at any given day, or whether or not I'm measuring up to their standards of maleness, thank you very much.

But that's not what Orlando said. What he said was, basically, 'You look hot!' and I am more than happy to lap that up like a kitty with cream. Sure, he thinks I look hot now where he didn't, say, a year ago, because now I've got a flat chest and scruffy little sideburns and a voice that's more Johnny Lang than kd lang. (ha! I wish! in either case!) But I don't think that there's much value judgement implicit in his compliment. He wasn't telling me that he respects my masculinity now where he didn't before- in fact, he's always been respectful, and has never messed up my pronoun, unlike Miss Jackie, who after months of a clean record has she'd me twice in the past two weeks, though both times, thankfully, off the microphone. Orlando was telling me that now I look like the kind of boy he finds hot, and that is something I don't really begrudge him.

I know that not everyone who "likes boys" likes every kind of boy. Plenty of people only like hairy guys or twinky guys or guys with big butts or guys with flat chests. I don't think it's so unreasonable for someone to say that they find me hot now and they didn't when I looked like a dyke, and vice versa- I don't expect folks who were attracted to me when I was a dyke to want to be with me now that I'm a guy. If they do, hot damn, more power to them. And I think it's a bit close minded to say "OMG I could never hook up with a...." fill in the blank with some sort of categorical preference: man, woman, trans person, what have you. I think life's generally more fluid than that, and you're possibly going to miss out on some hot action if you don't let yourself try something that's outside the realm of your experience or expectations.

So I just gotta say, thanks, Orlando. I'm real glad that you told me that you think I'm a hot guy now, because guess what? I think I'm a hot guy now! and I like it when people agree with me.

stubble + introspection

Thinking a lot lately, but not writing. I don't particularly want to cast the self-fulfilling prophecy that testosterone makes me less communicative, but it's certainly something that I've noticed and am wrestling with. Important for me to remember and acknowledge that hormones rae powerful agents, and that mind/body don't have as strong a disconnect as I'd like to think. Throwing out the first thing that comes to mind when I ask myself what kind of cognitive/emotional effects testosterone has had on me, I'd say that it's an intensifier and a wall. A lot of my feelings are more intense and immediate- they appear quicker, they are harder to ignore, they demand more of my attention. I notice it mostly with feelings like frustration and irritation- things I've always felt, of course, but which feel harder to control now. At the same time, though things feel sharper and harder to sweep under some inner rug, it also feels hard to bring things forward, like I just can't find the opportunity or the words. Which ties into my other jumble of thoughts, which is that I'm finding it difficult lately to articulate myself and to concentrate on specific tasks. My attention span isn't what I'd like it to be, nor is my ability to articulate myself.

I wonder if part of it is something I've heard other transguys talk about, a feeling that has come as they move through transition, of pulling in, feeling private, shutting down. I think I'm less interested in exposing and analyzing my every idea and impulse and inclination. For a long time, I was looking ahead and planning, and wondering how to bring about some enormous changes. Then I was real busy actually bringing about those changes. Now...stting with these changes. Wondering if there are more coming- I feel less in control than I have for a while. I guess there's only so much time I can spend at the helm of my own puberty.
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In other news, I've been growing out my facial hair, just for the hell of it. Shaving just my neck for the past week has left me with, honestly, a jawful of more (and more even) stubble than I was expecting, but it still looks juvenile to me. I like the feel of it scruffy against my fingertips when I'm idle, and I like the multitude of colors I can pick out- I think it's going to be a complex reddish blondish brown when it finally comes in. Not sure how long I'm going to leave it, or if I'm just going to cut it down to some sideburns soon- it's clear that I've got the strongest growth there. Here's a gratuitous picture.















--
A couple of funny moments lately with folks who have no idea of my trans experience. Going to a campout and being assigned accidentally into the female bunkhouse with Rochelle, it was an easy, laughable joke. The organizers quickly transfered us to the co-ed bunkhouse, and for the rest of the weekeend it was "Hey Eli, how's life in the girl's bunkhouse? Ha ha!" Funny how easy it is to joke aout something that would've been uncomfortable and painful if it'd happened a few months ago, when people regularly mistook me for a girl and there was often an uncertainty and an unease about my ambguity. I don't want the answer to be "and now nobody suspects that I'm of trans experience, so I can kick back and rest easy" both because it's not necessarily easy and also because I wish I'd had more allies then and I want to be an ally now. But being an ally doesn't have to mean being uncomfortable all the time, and it's damned good not to feel like that anymore.

been a long time

It's been just about a year since I started this blog, and my, how things have changed. My six months past surgery date crept by last week without me noticing, and I've only got another few shots at Callen Lorde before I reach the one year mark there, too, and can start pricking myself with the sharp shiny syringe of change. It's been good to have a place to get my thoughts out...when I first started writing in this, I thought I was going to explode if I didn't find an outlet for all the worries that were swirling around in my head. I think I wrote in this every day, for a while.

I've gone through up and down swings of feeling like I've got solid ground under my feet- I'm reminded that transition isn't just a time for counting new chest hairs, but also for changing and growing in all sorts of ways. I've certainly changed a lot in the last year and one of those ways (thank goodness) is a distinct decrease in angst around my gender. Not to say that I don't still have questions and thoughts and inquiry and processing to do, but I think it's...well, it's settling down into more of a "normal" range. Everyone I know examines and reflects on their own lives, and I think I'm at a point now where I'm, perhaps oddly enough, feeling more normal than ever before. Being trans is hard, and I feel like I've jumped a lot of hurdles- figured out how I wanted to pursue my own transition, then went about pursuing it, and I've gotten most of that accomplished. Now I'm starting to devote brainspace to other things, like what I'm going to be when I grow up. With regards to my gender, it feels like what I'm doing now (and may be doing forever) is "fine tuning" as Amy puts it. And that feels real good.

Of course, it's probably also why I haven't been posting here as often (besides, y'know, lack of regular internet access at home and somehow being busy all the time despite my relatively lowkey job and lack of other engagements like school, etc). Things just aren't quite as urgent when they're knocking around in my head anymore. Not to say I don't have enormous things on my mind still (like, say, should I have a hysterectomy or should I quit T so that I can have a baby in 5-10-whenever many years?), but just that I'm calmer about them now. Which I like. Maybe it's a tide turning in my adolescence, or some such. Whatever it means, I'm welcoming it- year one, over and done with. Woo.

--

So last Tuesday the 13th I went to 215 W. 125th st, 4th floor, to the Worker's Compensation Board of NY State, to have a hearing about my disability benefits claim. My union, 1199, had denied my disability claim for the time that I was off of work due to my chest surgery last August...they were supposed to pay me disability wages (2/3 of my actual pay, I think) for the 8 days that I missed after my week of sick time was used up. They refused my claim, stating that they wouldn't cover an "elective surgery" and even after I got my doctor from Callen Lorde to write a letter stating that this was a "medically necessary surgery for" me, they still denied it. So I contested it, and one thing led to another, and this morning I sat in a waiting room for over an hour before a Worker's Comp judge led me and the 1199 representative into his tiny little office to figure out what was what.

I'd come all prepared, with copies of the letters from my doctor, and printouts of the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care, and the DSM-IV definition of Gender Identity Disorder, and the New York City Human Rights Law about gender identity being protected under its non-discrimination clause, etc.

I was prepared to stand by what my doctor had written in his letter about me- that I am undergoing treatment, psychological and otherwise, for my gender identity disorder, and that this bilateral mastectomy had been an important part of this treatment, which is necessary in order for me to successfully function in society.

I'd been a bit nervous, because I'm not entirely certain where I come down on the medicalization of trans folks, and while I was fully prepared to say to the judge "This surgery is medically necessary for me" I'm also aware of the implications of adding to the sort of master narrative of transsexuality (if there is such a thing) about how all trans folks are transition-track transsexuals who need surgery to "fix" them. I do think that this surgery was necessary for me to be the happy(-go-lucky) fella I am today, though, so I didn't let my theoretical qualms get in the way of my preparations.

Such preparations turned out to be for naught, however! The longest part of the whole ordeal was waiting on the benches for my name to be called. When I got back into the tiny small 'courtroom' with myself, the judge, the Union representative and a stenographer, the judge already had my file in front of him. He asked the Union rep a few pointed questions- first "Why are you contesting this claim?" and then, when she replied that they'd declared it elective, "But he has two letters from his doctor stating that it was a medically necessary procedure- so why are you contesting it?"

She said something repetitive along the lines of "Well, our reviewers declared it elective."

This didn't hold much sway with the judge, who gave me a long look over his glasses, then said "Seeing as how his doctor wrote that this procedure was necessary for him to function successfully in society, I'm going to say that's medically necessary. He's awarded the full amount."

Success! Triumph! Ten minutes of potential embarassment turned into a gratifyingly affirmative ruling! Who says the whole world's transphobic?

beastly

A sample from the latest shoot I did with Mary Ellen. So good to have this photographic record of my transition- I'm so grateful to her for lending her time and talent and photodocumentarian eye. I'm coming up on a year of physically transitioning (time for another Manniversary party, perhaps?) so maybe soon I'll do a photo retrospective.




















Time for another shot tomorrow night...I'd lost track of the time til this morning, when I realized two weeks had gone by. Funny how something can lose its urgency into normalcy as months go by, every other week down to Callen Lorde for my needleful of oil. With my one year mark, I'll probably start doing it myself- wonder if I'll have to mark my calendar? Coming full circle from the Xs I used to scrawl in 7th and 8th grade, when menstruating was still a novelty, still an excitement of its own because it marked growing out of childhood. That was before it became an inconsistent (28 day cycle my butt- the red army never invaded on the same time schedule twice) reminder that womanhood was not going to be a good fit.

of a feather

Transmasculine Spectrum Drop-In Group (whew) starts again tonight at the LGBT center downtown. It's from 7:30-9, and I'm going with equal parts anticipation and trepidation. When I first started going to the group a year ago, it was a really great thing for me. It was awesome to be in a space with other transmasculine folks, and be able to ask and answer provocative and fulfilling questions and answers. Now, though, sometimes it feels like a weight laid on me rather than lifted off. I think perhaps it's because I'm feeling much more at peace and stable...now being in a room with 20 other people and their angst and insecurity isn't so much comforting to me. Rather, it can get me down sometimes. I feel a little shitty about that- just because I don't need the group so much anymore doesn't mean that I should stop going, right? Maybe I've got things to give, not just take? And there are plenty of times when I still come out of it with stimulating thoughts and/or new perspectives, or just a nice full sense of camraderie. Certainly, it's always good to see people of whom I've become fond, and meet new people. Interact with my community, if you will. It just taps into a large question I've been wondering about lately- what is my community? Is there a trans community? Should there be?
--
Gave blood yesterday and the guy typed my social security number into his database and cocked an eyebrow. "It says Emmalyn."
me: "Oh, uh, yeah, that's me. I changed my name."
him: "What, you didn't like it?"
me: "Uh, no."
him: "Y'know, my brother's middle name is Lagonda. He hates it."
--
I'm very much enjoying the interesting discussion going on in the comments to my queer vs. hetero post the other day. Thanks for the feedback/interaction, y'all.

call for submissions

Just saw this call for submissions to an upcoming anthology...I'm thinking of submitting something, though not sure what yet. Anything I do submit I'll post here first, of course. Thought I'd throw this up here in case any of y'all reading this might want to write something for it. Regardless, there are some interesting prompts raised that I'll probably write about whether or not I send something off.
---

*PLEASE FORWARD WIDELY*
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

BEYOND MASCULINITY:Essays by Queer Men on Gender and Politics
http://www.beyondmasculinity.com


Gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer men's gender identities often exist somewhere outside the traditional categories of "masculine" and "feminine." Sissies, drag queens, and leather daddies alike play with gender in a way that cannot be accounted for in traditional understandings of maleness. This collection -- part blog, part anthology, part audiobook -- aims to shatter traditional understandings of maleness and point towards a new understanding of how queerness and gender intersect.
***DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS MARCH 31, 2007***

BEYOND MASCULINITY is looking for contributions in four areas. Contributors should not feel bound by these categories - they should rather be seen as potential prompts:

I. Intersections of Identity: How do race, ability, class, and other kinds of identities and experiences intersect with gender and queerness -- and how do these intersections complicate our relationship to traditional understandings of "maleness?"

II. Feminism / Gender / Politics: How can feminism inform our understanding of queer male gender? Can queer men be feminists? How can we use our queerness as a political tool? What does male privilege look like for queer men?

III. Bodies, Desire, and Pleasure: What kinds of male bodies are desired? Fetishized? Where does sexual desire intersect with queer gender and how are these politics mapped out on our bodies?

IV. Queer Male Communities: How are our identities produced through our communities? How do the gender norms and politics of gay/bi/trans/queer male communities both liberate and constrain us?We're looking for queer male writers to step up and contribute their thoughts to this online project.

We're looking for personal / political essays. No academic papers, fiction, or poetry will be accepted. ***This is not your typical bookstore anthology.*** It will be only available online - and it will be completely free of charge to the public. With its unique implementation of media, this anthology aims to change the way queer non-fiction is done.

About the Editor: Trevor Hoppe is a Masters of Arts Student in Human Sexuality Studies at San Francisco State University. He has a long history of LGBTQ campus organizing as an undergraduate student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where he helped found the GLBT-Straight Alliance. While at UNC, he also helped found the Southeastern Unity Conference, which was focused on investigating the intersections of queerness with other kinds of identities. His essays and editorials have been published in several publications, including The Advocate, Boston's Bay Windows, San Francisco's Bay Area Reporter, The East Bay Alternative, and American Sexuality Magazine.

For more information on the project or to submit your work, please see our website: http://www.beyondmasculinity.com/. Questions? Contact Editor Trevor Hoppe at editor@beyondmasculinity.com

"The only kind of work that brings enjoyment...

...is the kind that is for girl and boy meant!" or so say our friends the Gershwin brothers. But what if the boys and girls are gay?

I've been thinking today about gender and sex- not the anatomy kind, but the hot steamy kind. I was thinking about a friend's experience; she mentioned being consistently assumed to be a lesbian, and how she is queer and interested in women, but also just as interested in guys. Makes me think that sometimes there's no room for shades of queerness- even a little bit of queerness makes you Gay. Or maybe it's just that if you're Gay, you can't date boys (or girls, if you're a Gay Guy).

I have a lot of similar experience in that I'm a queer guy who tends to date queer women. But this is confusing, and tricky, for me and others. I remember when I was first telling my dad that I'd decided to be a guy and he asked me "So, uh, are you straight now?"

Well, no. I've never had a boyfriend, or really done much more than make out with a guy. Because, as I explained it to him, I was never at all interested in being a guy's girlfriend. But I am definitely more open to the prospect of being a guy's boyfriend. On the other hand, while I'm much more open to the prospect now, it's not like testosterone has suddenly made me 100% gay. I'm more attracted to guys (more willing to admit that I'm attracted to guys?) now, but I'm still mostly interested in women.

But on the other hand, I still think of myself as 100% gay. Or, well, queer, at least. It makes me wonder what it means to be gay, or queer- is it about sex? And if so, is it about the sex of your partner, or the sexual acts you engage in with that partner? Or is being queer about more than just getting it on or getting off?

My inclination is to say yes, of course it is, but then how much of what I think of as my queerness could also be considered just my style of masculinity? I have a very queer masculinity, but what makes it queer?

When Rochelle and I are together, I think people often wonder why the fag and the dyke are making out with each other. Our dynamic is wonderfully complex, and sometimes we're boyfriend/girlfriend, sometimes we're both boys, sometimes we've got a really lesbionic vibe going that can't be denied. But one thing we're not is straight- even when we're boyfriend/girlfriend it's almost always gay boyfriend/dyke girlfriend. Which is great, and hot, but makes it slightly weird but all too easy to hide inside lines that don't really fit.

Now I'm running out of time, and I want to come back to this later, but basically, I'm just wondering what kind of truth is coming out of my mouth when I say that I'm a gay guy.

Down to the river and drink

So I've been trying to stay hydrated lately, and I've been drinking lots of water, which makes it so that I basically have the bladder function of a hyperactive squirrel but! My acne has sort of cleared up since I've been on this H2O campaign. So any of y'all with acne, try drinking more water, see how it works.

As I may have mentioned before, acne has been my least favorite testosterone-induced change, and I'm really hoping that it's going to subside relatively soon, like any other pubertal affliction. Makes me think about hormones and transition, though, and wonder about the puberty aspect of all of this-how much of what all is going on is tempestuous adolescent turmoil? Are my face and my emotions going to settle down in a year or two? Is the short fuse and the oily skin something that I just have to wait out? I rather hope so, since I'm not looking forward to having a minefield for a face the rest of my life.

Also, makes me wonder about what changes I've experience in the last year are wholly attributable to my new hormone balance, which ones are just my own change and growth during my 21st year, and which are some mixture of the two...by rights, I'm not truly out of my first adolescence yet, and I'm starting a 2nd one. I've changed a lot over the past year, not just physically. Some of it is solidity and contentment directly related to being happier with my physicality. Some of it comes from having a rich and delightful social life- my friends are excellent, my lover is a blessing, and I'm closer to my family than I've been in ages. Some of it, no doubt, is from being 21 instead of 20 .

So what's the moral of the story? Patience, grasshopper?

I think it's that things will settle as they may, and I'd like to stop looking forward and backward all of the time; important though it may be to know where I'm coming from and where I'm going, I want to see where I'm at.
--
Got another shot last night, in the left leg again and it didn't hurt at all. Clearly, the left leg is the invincible one. I'm nearly at 10 months on T, so we're going to do some bloodwork next time, check my levels, see how things are progressing. Funny to think the time has flown so fast! I'll try to post some pictures, etc. later. Changes are, of course, still happening, though they're either happening more slowly or I'm just not paying as close attention. Ro says my voice dropped again this week, though it doesn't sound much different to me. I haven't been able to get the livejournal voicepost thing to work lately, so I haven't been able to make a voicepost and compare, but I believe it. Hair is continuing to fill in though, of course, not quite as quickly as I'd like. I'm eager to get past this adolescent stage (though here I am looking forward again), as I'm feeling rather stuck in a midway point. I think I look younger now than I used to- between the acne and the recalcitrant facial hair. I used to have written in an "about me" section online somewhere that I'm younger than I seem but older than I look, and never has that been more true.
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Funny thing- last night I was lying down, rather idly feeling my chest after having put some oil on my scars. I know that I still have some breast tissue under my arms; mastectomies for masculinization purposes don't tend to be as thorough as cancer-based mastectomies, since the goal isn't necessarily the eradication of all breast tissue but just almost all of it, the parts that are distressing. So I know I've still got some breast tissue at the tail ends of my scars, almost in my armpits. Ro reminds me that I need to keep an eye on them in terms of doing self-exams for lumps, etc, since (speaking of cancer, god forbid) it's still breast tissue that could develop lumps or cysts or what have you. What I noticed last night, though, is that the texture of the skin and flesh there is very...breast like. If I lie on my side, there's a tiny bit of a dogear at the end of my scar, and the protruding skin is very soft and squishy and feels like my breasts used to.

For the first second I had a moment of repulsion- as in, aaah, they're still here! All of that money and time and stitches and drains and I've still got breasts! But then I realized that of course, I don't, I just have these soft spots which, from just the right angle and with just the right touch, are tiny reminders of what once was. It's kind of nice, actually, to think that I've still got some remnants of my breasts.

I love my chest more and more with each day that I settle into it, as the scars break up and the sensation creeps back and the familiarity sinks in. It feels so normal to be flat-chested. It's hard to remember, sometimes, that it hasn't always been this way, that it might very well have been another way. I don't know what that means, that I feel very normal this way. I don't know if it's some kind of weird proof, a validation that I really am trans, after all. I don't know if it's something more troubling, a kind of complacency with the binary gender system that I've always disavowed. I've always said I don't want to be normal! (Though my answer to this, said both fiercely and, against my will though I'll admit it, a touch wistfully, is that I'm not normal, and I don't look normal, so no worries, mate.)

Maybe 'normal' is the wrong word- I might feel better about it if I used a less loaded description, like content with myself. My trouble with 'normal' is that it sets up my body as better now than it was...and, well, in some ways, it is. But I worry about where these feelings are coming from- worry that I'm feeling better about my body because it looks more like what society thinks it's "supposed" to look like rather than just what I want it to be like. And here's where I start losing track of my chickens and my eggs and just tread carefully all around, because a) I'm never very good at rooting out just "where" my feelings are "coming from"...pertinent words put in quotes to try to express their limnal inadequacy. I know my feelings are part me and part gender, etc, etc.

I guess I want to be careful of saying that I feel better physically transitioning because I know how easy it is for words like that to be generalized into "it's better to physically transition" and then before you know it there's a transmasculine master narrative and we're all marginalizing each other!

Woof. All this time I spend juggling privilege and oppression, I'm going to start hitting myself in the head if I'm not careful. Now I've been processing for paragraphs when all I really meant to say was that it's kinda nice right now to have these small reminders of my breasts tucked into the corners of my scars.

beefcake? cupcake!

A few pictures showing off my physique and my baking prowess. I'm getting more and more into cooking (because a man's place is in the kitchen) so if I keep this photovanity habit up, we can all witness the evolution of my physical transition and my skills in the kitchen as they co-develop.

poison in the well

Someone at my work she'd me today, and it threw me for a bit of a loop. I was coming in the door, all bundled up against the ridiculous cold, and was so intent on getting upstairs to the library that I didn't notice that the guard working at the welcome desk was new, and trying to ask me for my ID. Then I heard one of the guys who works in the building say "It's ok, she works in the library."

Which didn't really register with me, I just turned and noticed the guard and said "I work upstairs," and he waved me through.

But walking upstairs I had a WTF? moment.

First, I was frustrated with myself for not doing something. For once, it wasn't that I didn't have the guts to confront the situation, it was just that it happened so quickly, almost in passing, that I didn't have a chance to address it. As I stomped up the last few stairs I started reviewing alternate scenarios in my head- maybe going over and introducing myself to the new guy, "Hey, yeah, my name's Eli, I work in the library" and saying something funny but pointed to the facilities guy "How're you doing, man? Did I hear you call me she? What's up with that? You forget to drink your coffee this morning?"

Because honestly, it's not really okay for him to call me she, and I can't think of why he would...it hadn't occurred to me that he thinks of me as she. He has known me the whole time I've worked here, so I guess he drew his conclusions when he met me and hasn't bothered to re-evaluate.

Which leads me to the second thing which is that in some ways, it's throwing me for a loop because it's making me wonder again about how much I've really changed over the past year. I guess I've just assumed that the people at my workplace either have read me as male from the start and either assumed that I'm doing some kind of late bloomer puberty thing, or haven't really noticed...or thought I was a dyke but then realized that I'm a dude now. Because duh, obviously, I'm a dude.

Except now I want to call myself on some shit because what is it that makes me think "Duh, I'm a dude?" I've got some definitively masculine secondary sex features, like a deeper voice and sideburns/stubble, and a flat chest, and more masculine proportions (broader shoulders, etc)...but not only is it in some ways against my politics to automatically assign those as dudely features, it also makes sense that, gradual and in some cases subtle as they've been, not everyone has noticed or understood the mechanics of my transition.

If there are folks who've read me as male from the start who haven't said anything about my sudden post-pubertal appearance, then it makes sense that there are folks who read me as female from the start who haven't really noticed or had the shoe drop about my more physically masculinized appearance, and so still call me she.

And if I'm annoyed that they used to automatically call me she because I used to have breasts, if I follow that reasoning, I can't be annoyed that they don't automatically call me he now because I have sideburns/flat chest.

On the other hand, I think that there are enough deliberately masculine cues in my appearance to warrant at least some thought about the matter. I'm pretty sure that most of the people in this building call me he, whether because they know they're supposed to or because they themselves see me as he (or both, I suppose). I'm all about not making gender/pronoun assumptions based on bodies, but I'm also in favor of the being sensitive and picking up on cues to try to be respectful of a person's pronoun preferences.

Blah. So I'm trying not to be resentful about this pronoun slippage on the part of this guy (because harboring resentment is like drinking poison and expecting your enemies to die! a piece of Nelson Mandela's wisdom that I heard for the first time the other day and haven't been able to stop thinking about). Getting to that realization has got me thinking that it's just not that big of a deal if one dude, whom I interact with once a week or so when he's changing the lightbulbs in the library, thinks I'm a she. Don't sweat the small stuff, right? The small stuff can be really oppressive when it's constant- a continuous, day-in, day-out stream of invalidation is a pretty crushing negative emotional burden to carry around- but right now, when I'm in such a good place, one small moment of someone else's mistake stings only temporarily.

And hold on, that's an important thought right there, that bit about it being someone else's mistake. Big lesson learned for me, and it's part of what's been such a good thing for me about this transition- I can finally accept that people who aren't seeing me for myself, people who call me she or refuse to respect me, are making their own mistakes. It was really hard for me to accept those mistakes as external to myself when I still felt like my own body was a mistake...I think it takes a different kind of strength and conviction than mine to be able to reject the short-sightedness of others without making any sort of physical changes. Now that I'm happier with the steps I've taken (mostly physically, but also mentally) to make things right with myself, it's easier to not care so much about what other people think.

Still, I do wish I'd been quick enough on my feet to correct him and affirm myself. or something.

man of disrepute

So, the lesson I learned on Friday is that three days is no longer an acceptable amount of time for me to go without shaving. It has been okay in the past- three days worth of my stubble has just meant that I'm vaguely scruffy, in a can't-quite-put-your-finger-on-it kind of way that becomes clear once I shave and my face returns to smooth clarity. But I think two days is my new limit before I start to look pretty gross, since my beard, such as it is, grows fastest and heaviest on my neck, and sort of fades upward from there. It's coming along nicely along my jaw, but hasn't made significant progress up my cheeks, nor certainly to my upper lip yet. So I end up with weirdly dark neck stubble, and a vaguely fuzzy face, and dude, that's just not cool. So definitely shaving every other day from now on, until the day comes (next spring? summer?) when I think things might be solid enough to try actually growing out a reasonable beard.
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It's funny, a year or so ago I used to watch other guys all the time, trying to get a feel for what they were wearing, how they were moving, interacting with the world. Not quite taking notes, but definitely evaluating and learning and comparing their masculinities to my own, theirs (presumably!) having been taught since birth and practiced for years, whereas my own much more nascent manhood still felt like it needed some work. I don't do that so much now- much more comfortable moving in my own skin, thanks in no small part to my chest surgery- but I do subtly (I hope!) evaluate other guys and their facial hair. Up close I look for growth patterns and bald spots, or the line where they've ended their beards on their necks, or the angle at which they've allowed their sideburns to fall down their cheeks. Everybody has something slightly different going on, and it's interesting to observe...even without my personal stake in it, it's neat to see the different choices that people make about their own grooming. I'm trying to remember, too, that patience is not just a virtue but a necessity, that I've been at this less than a year, that I'll be bearded before I know it.
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Yesterday was apparently , and I missed it! Alas. I'm vehemently pro-choice, and I think it's important and elucidating to examine some of the connections between reproductive freedom and trans health. Both have so much to do with self-agency, and control over one's own body in a medical setting. I'm not arguing for total deregulation of abortion or medical transition, but actually, I'm uncomfortable with the semantics there. I don't want to see regulation but rather support and infrastructure. I think the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care are useful when used as guidelines and to support and inform people- both trans folks and health care providers. It doesn't seem to me (though I've never had one) that abortions are very often a good option, and so I think appropriate information and counseling and access to birth control methods and information is necessary. Abortions are often a needed option, but they seem a hard choice for anyone to need to make, and I wish that reproductive rights weren't so curtailed and stigmatized (why aren't there free condoms easily available in high schools, for instance?) such that abortion is made more necessary. Likewise, I don't think that the SOC should be used as set in stone thresholds that trans folks have to prove themselves by- that sets up gatekeeping along too many lines of identity (for non-binary or transition-track or 'classic transsexual' trans folks) or access (for folks who don't have the time or money to find a therapist and an endocrinologist and an amenable judge, all in the right order) or body (folks who don't pass frequently enough to make a "real life experience" necessary, or who don't want to modify their bodies in the way prescribed by the SOC). That said, transition is (perhaps I should say can be? Let's just say that mine has been) tumultuous, and at times difficult, and it's been useful to have support and information and an infrastructure, some of which has been provided to me by the folks at Callen Lorde who use the SOC as guidelines. So, yeah. Infrastructure and information good, denial of access or free choice bad.

drawing the line

Been thinking more about the "women and trans only" policies that I mentioned a few days ago, fueled by some of the interesting comments y'all left for me.

Anonymous number one- even before but especially after you wrote "So if the dick is equal to oppression, who gets to check who has it and who doesn't?" I was thinking about that line of thinking, which is basically the foolishness of basing an ideology around lines drawn through some sort of supposed biologically based binary. The myth of the binary sexes hasn't been debunked as thoroughly as that of the binary genders, perhaps because of less awareness of intersex issues, etc and because of even stronger taboos about discussing the range of body variation that falls within normal (and 'abnormal', too, I suppose, though a) that's a really loaded, potentially hurtful term and b) it seems to me that the line between normal and 'abnormal' is no less arbitrary than the lines between all the shades of 'normal). But seriously, yet another reason why the "women and trans only" thing doesn't sit well with me. My cock is welcome but some other guy's isn't? Carry that line of reasoning any further and it starts to get real disrespectful real fast, but if you don't carry it any further at all, well, then it's about as silly as it sounds.
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Anonymous number two, I've got a bone or two to pick.
First and foremost, I think either I was unclear, or you totally missed my point. When you say "are men really still the patriarchal, evil "other" to you?" I go "Huh?" because that's precisely what I was trying to say. "Men" as some sort of homogenous category does not resonate well with me at all, particularly when it gets glossed as uniformly evil. So I think we're in accordance there. However, perhaps the miscommunication began through my determination to throw out there that I do believe in the patriarchy (much as I believe in fairies, but with less handclapping). That is to say, I do think that there is such a thing as institutionalized sexism, and while I might not call it evil, I think it's pretty darn crappy, and I know that while it affects and is perpetuated by all of us to a certain extent, it gets instilled pretty heavily in people who are raised as male, such that non-trans men who don't do some pretty thorough soul-searching/consciousness raising often exhibit (knowingly or not) some pretty crappy attitudes and behaviors. So yes, I do think there is a "patriarchal other" that I'm trying to keep that way- as an other. I'm committed to my feminism, and I want the patriarchy to remain an other. I don't want to perpetuate patriarchal practices, I want to break them down. As a man.

Which is what leads me to the touchy bone of contention, which is that I have to admit I'm not a big fan of the language you're using here. When you say things like "you know, for a transguy, you've got some rather misandrist attitudes" I get defensive, because it sounds to me like you're questioning my male identity. What I hear is "if you're actually a guy, you wouldn't be dissing guys like this!" Now, hopefully, this is a miscommunication on my part, being excessively defensive, etc, but I want to throw it out there that I didn't like that language, because I think it's perfectly acceptable (downright critically important, even) for guys to critique the patriarchy.

Which leads me to this last little bone, this word "misandrist" which, to quote the Princess Bride, I do not think it means what you think it means. Inconceivable! ahem. sorry. Perhaps you mean feminist? Misandrist isn't a word that I'm comfortable using as a simple counterpoint to misogyny, because misogyny has the weight behind it of institutionalized sexism (aka the Patriarchy) which pointedly privileges men, masculinity and maleness (albeit specific permutations thereof). There is no corresponding systematic privileging of women and femaleness, and so I don't believe there can be such a thing as 'misandry.' Personal prejudice against men? Fine. Sure. I'm sure it's out there and it probably does correlate with feminist principles at a rate higher than chance. But discrimination = prejudice + power, and the word 'misandrist' sounds too much like "feminazi" for me to be willing to accept it.
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I'm sure there's plenty more (and comments welcome- I mean no disrespect, Anon2) but it's time to go home now.

of men and transmen

I got an invitation in my email inbox today, inviting me to what looks like a pretty fun event, put on by a queer dragking/performer whom I don't know well, but admire. She may even be coming to a party at my house tomorrow night, actually- perhaps I'll discuss my issues with here there, if I can get my thoughts in some semblance of order.

My issues are with the parameters established for attendance at this event. The email reads as follows:

I would like you to attend [the event] if you are a woman/trans-person or genderqueer....[description of funny, queer event]....Additionally please note non-trans men will not be allowed to attend.

And I have to say, that right there puts a big huge kink in my decision about whether to attend.
There are a lot of events/spaces that advertise themselves as open to "women and trans only" and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I want to respect the right of any group to gather in solidarity, without the presence of potentially oppressive outsiders. I also want to refuse to be a party to discriminatory/exclusionary practices. I don't want to go somewhere I won't feel welcome, and I don't want to go somewhere I won't feel respected, but I don't want to lose out on a community I feel strong connections to.

These questions and inquiries are the shifting boundaries of what've been called the "dyke/FTM border wars" and

Being invited to a space that's labeled as being for "women and trans only" makes me feel like there's a line being drawn in the sand, and I'm automatically being placed on one side of it without my say in the matter, a side that I'm not sure I belong on. I resent the line being drawn in the first place, but I especially (painfully) resent being placed on the female side of the line, a place that I don't belong, as I think I've been working pretty hard to make clear. As my friend Jacob said once while we were talking about this, he doesn't want to go anywhere that's making that distinction, because of the gross implications being made that basically are either 1) trans guys aren't real men, so they can still come or 2) real men have penises and penises are yucky, so they can't come, or some variation on such a theme.

I think I understand that the point of refusing admittance to non-trans men at this event is to try to make it a safe space for the performers (and audience members, I suppose). I also think I understand that what they are really trying to do is keep out the things that would make such a place feel unsafe, like sexism, misogyny, homophobia. And I also know that those things tend traditionally to be vested pretty heavily in non-trans men. The hegemonic man takes up a lot of space, whether he admits it or not.

What I don't like is the simplistic (dare I say transphobic?) implication that it's transness, as it's understood by the creators of this event, that separates the wheat from the chaff, the feminist transguys (or, too often, the safe and safely emasculated "tranny boys" - though not at this event, since I know the performers to be smarter and more respectful than that) divided from the pigs of the patriarchy.

It reminds me of being in my psychology class last semester, being righteously indignant about an experiment that the professor had conducted, trying to determine what individuals can guess about the knowledge of the general population- that is, even when they don't know something, can they accurately predict whether or not other people are likely to know it? Running a condition where he wanted to ask people about something they would know, he was asking women about the names of cooking utensils and men about the names of car parts. I, sputtering with my frustration, tried to call him out on a sexist experiment. He, looking at me, half confused half condescending, said "Do you deny that there's a correlation between gender and certain set of knowledge?"

And no, I couldn't, because (as his experiment determined), more women do know the names of cooking utensils than men do, and vice versa with the car parts.

What I should've said was something along the lines of no, but I don't think the correlation is strong enough or reliable enough to be used as a supposedly neutral variable. It's the supposition that women are in the kitchen and men in the garage that gives that correlation it's strength, along with the matching assumption that you can tell from looking at a person whether they grew up in the garage or the kitchen.

Likewise, in this situation, I can't quite deny that lots of non-trans men are jerks, and take up a lot of space, and can, consciously or not, contribute to an unsafe space for performances, especially with mostly queer, mostly female performers. This particular event has non-so-subtle sexual overtones, too, which can heighten the tensions between the Man and the Other, as we're being set up to be in this context.

But y'know (I hope you know. don't we all know by now, please?), every non-trans man is not the last bastion of dastardliness. Plenty of transmen are pigs. Plenty of women can take up space, be obnoxious/hurtful, or contribute to an unpleasant atmosphere.

It's much easier to put "women and trans only" on your fliers than it is to say "this event is committed to being a safe space for queer, feminist people and ideas. Sexism, misogyny, or any other oppressive or aggressive attitudes will not be tolerated" and then enforce it. It's hard to try to enforce something like that, especially if everyone in the community isn't stepping up to take responsibility for it, having not made their own anti-oppression commitment, or finding it easier to just decide that women and trans people are okay and non-trans men are bad.

And, while they're at it, to assume and decide what it means to be labeled as such. "Genderqueer" persons are invited, but "non-trans men" are not. So, are genderqueer folks with penises allowed to attend or not? Are we breaking down to an underwear check, with all of the ridiculousness that encompasses? Genderqueer and trans person is too often used as code for "person with a vagina" and all of the assumptions that go along with it. Various famous music festivals (cough, cough) have their "womyn-born womyn only" policies that strike me as hurtful and misguided, and based on these same assumptions about what it means to be a woman, what it means to have been raised a woman, what kind of experiences one has when one is raised "as a woman" and what that means about potential camaraderie, allyship, friendship.

I was raised "as a girl" and I had a pretty different experience than most women do. You could argue that it's because of my queerness, but I had a pretty different experience than most dykes do. I have some common ground, sure, but there are a lot of chasms gaping between us, too, and why ignore those chasms when you're making such a big deal about the ones between you and someone with a dick?

*sigh*

Anyway. "Women and trans only" is not the place for me.

Gimpy the second

well, I was too optimistic about the prospect of another pain-free shot. I got one in the right thigh last night and it was fine all night, until midmorning today when the cramping started, and now it's once again stabbing pains through my quad whenever I flex it. It's not so counterintuitive that my leg should protest the addition of 1 ml of thick viscous fluid into muscle that doesn't really have room for it, but dammit, I am not excited about this limping business.