homestyle

Gave myself my first shot at home this morning, and it was easier and quicker than expected. Just laid out my supplies and sat down in front of the window where there was nice light, and called out a warning to Rochelle, who isn't the most fond of needles, that she might want to stay out of the bedroom for a minute or two while I did the actual jabbing. I noticed that a tiny bit of the T oil leaked out of the injection site while I was unwrapping my bandaid, but I think that's pretty normal. Just because I haven't noticed it before doesn't mean it hasn't happened, so no worries.
--
I'm about fifteen minutes away for heading upstairs to participate in a panel that's being put on by the GLBTQ Caucus at the Social Work School where I work. It's supposedly going to be GLBT 101 for the students, so that those who don't know much can get some perspective/education, and have an opportunity to ask questions. It's me, a faculty member, and three students, and I'm only a little nervous about it. We're supposed to each "tell a story" about our GLBTQ/whatever identity, and then there'll be a question and answer period. I'm not sure if this is going to be the most effective to fulfil the goals for this meeting (not that I'm totally clear what the goals are, beyond an undefined "education" of the "student community" about "populations they may be working with."

I'm not even sure which letter I'm supposed to represent, but since I can fairly claim pretty much all of them (or at least I have at one point in my life) I'm sure I won't come up short.

when tough little boys grow up to be dads

I'm thinking about babies again. Maybe it's the springtime, and the quickening of everything's blood, or maybe it's the fact that I'm always thinking about babies. I watched a pretty good documentary called "Transparent" a month or so ago, and it didn't really touch on the issue of guys wanting to have children post-transition. And I was surprised by the lack of discussion around fertility issues at the Trans Health Conference a few weeks ago- for me, it's always been a central factor in my decision to transition. Last year in the spring, I was contemplating starting testosterone, and weighing my desire for masculine puberty with my desire to have a baby. It's clear which priority won out, and I'm delighted and thankful for the hormonal changes (Even the tumultuous ones) of the past year, but now that the dust has settled a bit, I'm revisiting this issue and thinking hard and not necessarily getting much further.

And basically, it boils down to the fact that I'm real sad that I'm not going to be able to bear children. There's a line in that transman health guide that's online (quite a good read, actually, available here) about how traditionally, transmen have been declared sterile, and have accepted that as the necessary price to pay for transition, but in reality, that line of thinking is limiting and outmoded. That really hit home for me, because that mentality of "you win some, you lose some" was a big part of how I eased my anxiety about the prospect of starting testosterone and thus extinguishing my personal reproductive capabilities.

I know that plenty of folks are infertile for plenty of reasons, and there is in fact no proof that I would've been able to bear children had I not started this hormone regimen of mine, beyond the fact that the women in my family are generally if anything extra fertile (hence the various pairs of fraternal twins). So it's not 100% definitive fact that I'm sterilizing myself with this transition of mine.

That doesn't mean I don't feel a lot of sadness about losing the opportunity to be a biological parent, and some guilt and worry about having made the decision that lost me that opportunity.

There's a post over on the ftm livejournal community about dealing with infertility, and a lot of what's being said, in the original post and the comments, resonates deeply with me- particularly the poster's line "often i feel a real ache when i think about not being able to continue the genetic line of my family."

I want to carry on my family line, and it makes me real sad to think that I'm probably not going to be able to in this fashion. My children will be part of my family, have my name, and I'll give them my stories and sensibilities and habits just as my family has given me theirs. I know that I'm going to have a family one way or another- adoption, miraculous scientific advancements, the generous assistance of my sister. I'm going to love my children, and I don't harbor any notions that they're going to be any less mine because they didn't spring from my loins. But it's going to be complicated, and I can't imagine that I'm not going to feel keep feeling these pangs about not being able to continue my family along this particular, traditional avenue.

I love seahorses- they're beautiful little creatures; I find 'em mesmerizing in their goofy ungainly figures, but I love them, too, because the boys carry the babies. It's what makes me think sometimes about being pregnant- it's odd to put myself and pregnancy in the same sentence together, because I'm a boy, and boys don't get pregnant, but darn it, what if I did? It sounds radical and weird and very appealing on some level- could I be a pregnant dad? Until I take a step back and think about what it'd mean to get to that point.

When I started T last year, I was certainly eager to be rid of the uncomfortable aspects of menstruation- some of which anyone who menstruates might easily identify with. There are plenty of unpleasant components all of which were exacerbated by the dysphoria I felt around dealing with it in the first place. I know plenty of women feel empowered by their menstruation, but I generally pretty much ignored mine as much as possible, except when its actual presence demanded attention, usually with painful cramps, inconvenient stains, and a distinct damper on my sex life.

I was getting plenty sick of smuggling tampons into men's rooms, which all feature a distinct dearth of stalls as well as a prominent absence of trash receptacles inside those few and far between stalls, making for a singularly and highly unnecessarily troublesome disposal process. Dealing with my period in the men's restroom had a distinct tinge of discomfort and humiliation, and I'm not at all sorry that I don't have to do it anymore. Likewise with the lack of cramps. Don't miss that semi-monthly debilitation at all!

Which is why it's so hard for me to get at the root of my sadness around my infertility. I didn't particularly appreciate menstruation (though I didn't utterly despise it, either) and I'm glad I don't do it anymore, and I think my feelings would be similar around being pregnant. I think it would be weird, and jarring, and dysphoric.I think it'd also be amazing and powerful, and I think about it. I think about whether I could stop T now and regain reproductive functionality and start buying tampons again and stop getting hairier and stop building muscle mass without trying. Could I do that, and for how long? I don't want to have kids next year.

---

It's helped me to talk to people who are adopted, and spend time conceptualizing ideas around family that aren't so strongly rooted in the "blood is thicker than water" mentality. And it's helped to remember, too, that I'm going to have a queer family no matter what. The logistics of having children is probably going to be among the first of many complexities, and I do myself a disservice to think "oh, if only I weren't so selfish and unwilling to give up my hairiness and testosterone, I could be popping out the babies with no problem!" Being pregnant is a pretty intense endeavor, and it would probably flip me out. I'd like to raise my children with a partner, and hir thoughts about having kids will need to factor in. And then there's the matter of being a trans person and a parent- Hey kids! Dad used to be a girl! (Sort of. By some folks' reckoning.) I have to think and hope that if I can handle raising them with any sort of grace or aplomb, they'll manage to handle having a trans dad with the same sensibilities.

Peter Puberty

Haven't posted in ages, but I'm going through a weird introspective time these days, so I guess that isn't too surprising. I'm hesitant to try to figure out why I'm feeling so inarticulate, because I very much don't want to lament that T is turning me into the strong silent type, and that I'll never again have my womanly emoting abilities back. Hogwash. I hope.
--
It's my 2nd Manniversary today (tomorrow?) and I'm not quite sure how I got here so fast. The past year has been an incredible one, naturally, and has involved quite a lot of time expansion and contraction. The months of last summer went by so s-l-o-w-l-y and then this winter and spring have been zipping right past. I'm settling into myself and it's going well, I think, if a little rocky. I've got plenty in my head to think about, and maybe if I get a free minute tomorrow at work I'll actually expound upon a few of them, including but not limited to: attending the Trans-Health Conference in Philly this past weekend, being asked to be on a "LGBT 101" panel at my work, watching documentaries about trans parenting and thinking a lot about babies, making friends with dudes.
--
Tomorrow I've got my self-injection exam at Callen Lorde where, if I successfully follow all the proper steps and give myself a shot in front of witnesses, I'll be given appropriate and necessary supplies and set loose. Feels like apron strings are about to be cut.
--
I went through a beard growing experiment for most of the month of march and, while it's clear I don't have it in me yet for the real deal, I must say I was pretty pleased with what three weeks worth of carefully not shaving achieved. It's very soothing to be able to run fingertips along scruff-roughened cheeks while I'm thinking or planning or puzzling. I've since shaved it off and now have some optimistic but slightly uneven (so hard to look at both sides of my face at the same time! especially with a razor in hand!) muttonchops. I've decided I'll wait til June to try growing it all out again, and invest in a beard trimmer next time to try and even up the edges. Summertime probably isn't the most felicitous season in which to have a fuzzy face, but I'm impatient, and it'll be worth it.
--
oh, and I finally put up another voice post.

delivered

I was invited to attend a Seder tonight in honor of Passover, and I went and had a very lovely time. The abbreviated Haggadah (the text which accompanies dinner) that we read made frequent reference to freedom and being conscious of justice. It said that we must all think of ourselves and how we have come out of Egypt, and I thought that yeah, that sounds about right for what I've been doing with myself the past 18 months or so. I've been coming out of Egypt.

another call for submissions

Perhaps you're stealthily reading this blog, and might be interested in writing something for this? Saw it online, thought I'd pass it along.

***Call for Submissions- Post Transition Anthology***

Seeking essays from post-transition, binary-identified men with transsexual histories. “Post-transition,” for the purposes of this publication, refers only to social status, whether achieved with or without medical intervention, and regardless of the degree of intervention sought. This includes men who are consistently perceived as male, who live and work as men, and who identify or might be identified as “stealth;” essays from binary-identified but unable to transition men considered.

Essays should be about being a man post-transition; can be exclusively related to transsexual history, entirely about the experience of being a man, or anything in between. Topics might include but aren’t limited to: becoming a man; relationships/ family; fatherhood; disclosure; invisibility.

Many of us shed transsexualism as an identity or never adopted it at all. Because a component of the stealth experience is not being vocal about one’s history and experience, the voices of stealth men are rarely, if ever, heard. This collection intends to assemble essays about what it means to be a stealth transsexual man, but more than that to put together essays about what it means to be a man, from the unique perspective of folks who were identified female at birth and, in most cases, raised female.

Pseudonyms may be used for publication.

PUBLISHER: This will probably go first to a vanity press, and then be shopped to mainstream presses. If it’s not picked up, it will be published online.

DEADLINE: August 1, 2007

LENGTH: 1,000 - 3,000 words

FORMAT: Essays must be typed and double-spaced. Please include contact information; if I can’t get in touch with you, your essay will not be included.

SUBMITTING: Electronic submissions only, please. Send essay electronically as a Word file (with .doc extension) to posttransanthology@gmail.com. Include the word "anthology" in the subject line.

PAYMENT: For the time being, payment is likely limited to the warm feeling of accomplishment you’ll have. Subject to change pending publication details.

REPLY: Please allow until November 1 for a response.

Doctor! Mr. MD!

just kidding- this is a post I wrote back in middle of Feb, but never finished/posted. now I've got updates, so I guess I'll just tack those on at the end. it'll be like a time capsule with bonus timewarp to the present at the end!
--
My last shot, nearly a week ago, was in my right thigh again and this time...drumroll, please...there was no excruciating cramping! I can only assume that it was a matter of my quadricep getting used to the every-other-weekly ritual of suddenly trying to accomodate an injection of 1ml of thickly viscous fluid. There was still some lingering soreness, but nothing unusual, and nothing to make me flinch, limp, or wince, as with my three previous right leg shot experiences. This is very good news, because it bodes well for my future of self-injecting, an undertaking that I could begin in April once my 1 year T-versary rolls around. Plenty of folks self inject in the butt, but I think it'll be a little easier for me to do it in my leg, because I'll be able to sit down, and clearly see what I'm doing.

I hope that self-injecting won't be too difficult. I watch the nurse very closely when she injects me, and I've been trying to visualize holding the syringe myself, imagining what it will take to keep myself calm and matter of fact while I puncture my own skin. I'm pretty sure that it'll be a little tricky for the first time or two, and then get much easier. I actually recently started wearing contacts for the first time, and it's been a damn challenge getting those things in and out of my eyes. I'm just not used to touching my own eyeball, y'know? It's getting better, though, since I realized that it's entirely easier if I can calm down, stop flinching, and just...do it. Which I think will be applicable in this shot process. If I can bypass the part of my brain that's going "Putting a NEEDLE into your OWN LEG are you CRIZAZY?" and just try to be methodical about it, I think it'll be much easier.

I've been reading a bit about guys who give themselves subcuetaneous injections as opposed to intramuscular, which are supposedly quite a bit easier/less painful, but as per usual, there's not a lot of research or information about the effectiveness and safety of the method. Likewise for subcutaneous, long-lasting pellets that are implanted under the skin in order to slowly release a constant dose over three months. Sounds super convenient, but does it work? What are the drawbacks? Nobody knows...

Bit of the scary part about physically transitioning. Plenty of this is still fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants; there's not a lot of reliable, long term medical information out there. Much of the information that gets passed around the community is anecdotal, which is great, but not the same as documented medical fact.
---
And here we reach the end of my musings from the past. Now, though, I've got updates! My shot after that was in my left leg, which had never given me trouble before but all of a sudden was painful like the right leg used to be. Not sure what that was all about, but I guess it was just an unlucky poke.

I'm due for another shot tonight, and it's a semi-exciting one because I've gotten the go-ahead from the HOTT staff to start self-injecting, despite being a few weeks shy of my official one year mark on April 10th. so tonight's the first of the three step learning process. She's going to give me the blow by blow and explain everything carefully, so that I can come back next week and do it by myself, with some assistance, and then the week after that I have to do it all by myself under supervision to make sure I'm doing it right- my final exam, if you will.

So now's the point where I have to decide whether or not to switch to 100mg/week from the 200mg/2 week schedule that I'm currently on. I'd been wondering if I was having mood swings because of the T, but some of that has ironed itself out lately since I've been trying to be more self aware and patient with myself. I can still hope that it might help my acne to go to a more frequent dosing schedule. so I think I'm going to try it...if only because it'll also get me through my 3 training wheels session at C-L faster, if I'm coming back every week to do my 100mg shot.

I'm glad to be taking more agency in my injection schedule, though it means I'll have to keep track of my own syringes and bottles, etc. I hope I can clear a space somewhere in my room to keep everything together in a neat little spot. The bathroom might make more sense, but the bathroom at my house is such a constant disaster area that I think it'd be better not to keep 'em there. Maybe I can keep it on the shelf where I keep my high quality whiskey and spices. THe top-shelf trio: Bulleit Bourbon, Penzeys Double Strength Vanilla, Depo-Testosterone.
--
oh, also, speaking of 'medical fact' as I did at the end of my february thoughts....I'm still thinking about that phrase. I think I stopped there because I didn't know quite what to say next, because it's such a strange little phrase. Medical fact is such an authoritative kind of information, but like any other kind of power, medical authority oughtn't be absolute nor unexamined. I had to have doctors and surgeons and social workers and psychiatrists approve me over the past year or so in order to accomplish much of what I've done. Why did I need to submit myself for evaluation? Who are they and who am I that our opinions about my own life and body are given such different weight?

That's the crux of the issue, I think- where is this authority coming from, and what kind of knowledge is underpinning these medical facts?

I do think it's important to have infrastructure and support for physical/medical transition. I do trust doctors...that's why there is such a thing as medical school, right? So that folks can learn and practice and train and earn the authority that they need in order to effectively practice as doctors. I want to be able to trust that doctors know best in medical situations. So what part of transsexuality is medical, and how is it medically understood?

Perhaps the understanding of the medical components of being trans* needs to shift, such that outdated/limited thinking isn't the basis for this training and knowledge. If folks learn in medical school that being a real transsexual means decrying one's own anatomy since toddlerhood, well, then naturally that's going to be the model through which all of these other opinions interact.

I think I'm going to write my midterm paper on the authority that's vested in medical terminology, and how it interplays with the labels and identifying words that are claimed by the individuals who are delineated by those terms. How did "sex change" become "transition" and where does it need to go from here?

Maybe I'll dedicate it to the last gynecologist I went to, who told me as I was leaving "Good luck with your sex change!"

no news is good news

Ah, the continual frustration with transphobia cropping up all over the news. First there's the case of the city manager from Florida who's been fired because she came out as trans. As my friend Sharon McGowan at the ACLU once said (or something very similar), any time you're willing to employ someone as a man but not as a woman- someone with the exact same qualifications and performance- that's sex discrimination. A city official in this case said they don't think the "[she] has the integrity...to continue as the city manager."

What's YOUR definition of integrity, buster? Because to me, someone who's decided to be honest about their identity and life plans, while going about those plans in a thoughtful, responsible manner, smacks of nothing BUT integrity.

So that's our bads news, reported by a gay paper in a pretty respectful way. Now let's move on to our good news, reported by the New York post in a disrespectful, blatantly transphobic way. Jack over at AngryBrownButch has a good post and call to action on the issue (with a new follow up post from today), so go check that out for the whole scoop, but basically, the story is:

Our heroine, a young transwoman, is a ward of the state; thus it is the responsibility of New York City to provide medical care for her. They refuse to pay for her transition, she sues them. At long last, a sensible judge in Manhattan Family Court ruled in her favor, saying that the City is obligated to pay for her sexual reassignment surgery. Hooray! The New York Post, bastion of ignorance and sensationalism, runs a piece (I can't bring myself to call it an article) entitled "Free To Be He-She" that is so disrespectful I could spit. Booooo.

For Pete's sake, can you at least pretend to be a newspaper? The damned AP Stylebook has guidelines on the matter.

And while we're on the subject, once we've gotten past those little basics of, oh I don't know, not calling people by the wrong name or pronoun, maybe we can make a motion to strike the words "sex change operation" from the lexicon.

"Sex change" is problematic enough, but it works for some people, and it's descriptive, I suppose, so I'm not totally ready to get all up in arms about it. Yet.

But operation? It's a word that gets thrown around all the time regarding trans folks, and it drives me up a wall. Every time I hear it, or read it, I feel like this guy does when someone lets the tweezers touch the little metal edges of his body cavities, like a buzzer startling in its harshness has been sounded. It's too much to hope for, undoubtedly, but I do wish I never hear anyone ask me about my "operation" ever again. I mean, really. Does anyone use the word "operation" anymore except to pathologize trans folks?

If someone busts up their knee, do you ask them how their 'operation' went? Probably not, because it's an outdated term that evokes scary/sketchy lab coated mad scientist type medical prodedures. Using it to refer to trans folks and our transitions is just another way to dehumanize and sensationalize the process...not to mention group together under one vague, outdated term a whole array of options available to people who want to pursue medical transition. No transition looks exactly the same as anyone else's, and it's not some thoughtless presto-sex-chango endeavor. It's intensely personal, and private, and doesn't need to be discussed with such prurient terminology.

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.
--
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.