stick 'em up

Been a while- I've got a couple of half-formed posts lying around that I might try to finish up, but in the meantime, a few more things have been boiling around in my head.
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I'm trying to decide whether to ask my doctor if I can start self-injecting. The protocol would have me waiting a year, which would be April, but Callen Lorde, bless its heart, is genuinely flexible, and my therapist has hinted that I could bring the topic up for discussion and it would be well received. There are a number of factors to consider.

Pros: No more time spent (wasted) trekking to and from the clinic every other week, not to mention time spent in the waiting room, etc. Being able to switch to a weekly or 10 day cycle instead of my current 14 days, which I suspect (though through anecdotal evidence only) might help with mood swings and acne issues. In general, having more control over my shots- not having to plan my weeks around when appointments are available, and not having to be late for a shot if I'm out of town for more than 2 weeks in a row.

Cons: I have to stick the needle in my butt myself. I wouldn't have thought I'd be squeamish about such things, but the thought is honestly not appealing. I'm sure it's something that would get easier with practice, but still, it's not something the I'm bouncing up and down eager for.

Though I am pretty eager to mitigate this acne of mine- it wasn't really a component of my first puberty, and I have to say I think it's my least favorite component of this one. Really makes me feel unattractive and juvenile to have an oily, pustulent face.
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Other than the acne, other T-related stuff is progressing just fine. Hair keeps coming, muscles keep firming. It's been pointed out to me several times by now that if I'd just work out, I could easily build quite a bit of muscle, since I've got muscles now that are scant but definite. Amazing what hormones can do for you. If I took advantage of my newfound muscle building abilities, and worked out, I could become, as they say, jacked.

My motivations in that regard are somewhat suspect, though. Why do I want to be more muscular? Mostly to more definitively code my body as male, and I'm not sure that's something I need or want to do anymore. I mean, muscles are useful- I'd like to be able to sweep my lover into my arms more easily, or hoist the suitcases up to the top shelf of my closet with slightly less huffing/puffing. And well defined shoulders and a flatter stomach would let my clothes hang on me in a more pleasing way. But a big reason I want muscles is because manly men have muscles, and I'm starting to let go of the idea that I'm going to be a manly man. I'm going to be me, Eli, man, and I've got some muscles and they're great, but why do I need more? If I do, I want the muscles for the suitcase-hoisting, not for the ego-boosting.
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Although if I had more muscle on me, it might keep me from having silly ridiculous moments like this one. For...oh, I don't know, two months or so, I was a little bit worried about the left side of my chest. I'd been healing nicely from surgery, but when I was lying down and playing my fingers over my left pec, I could feel a hard edge at the end of the muscle, just above the scar. I was worried, maybe there was some intense scar tissue under there, or an adhesion? It was definitely something I'd never felt before surgery, and I was trying not to worry, but was definitely a little anxious about it.

Until a few weeks ago, when I was standing in front of my mirror checking out my chest, and I felt that hard lump, and I happened to move my arms up and down a bit...and realized that the lump didn't move with me. In fact, I could see the lump staying still under my flexing skin, and I could see similar lumps above and below it on both sides of my chest. It was my damn ribcage! I'm so scrawny that since I no longer have breast tissue in the way, I can feel my freakin' ribs when I'm poking around my chest. God, I felt like an idiot.
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Speaking of my chest, it's doing well. There's been a subtle paradigm shift sometime in the last month, and I'm not sure when it happened, and I wasn't even aware of it til it shifted, but my chest has slowly become normal to me again.

It's been what, three and a half months? I didn't realize how much I was feeling the sudden absence of my breasts, but I was definitely getting used to the new landscape of my chest. It's no longer a new landscape. It feels normal to me, instead of new and exciting. My scars no longer seem like remnants, but rather like features of my body in their own right. They're fading, but not as quickly as I might've hoped. In fact, they almost seem pinker now than they did a month ago, and they've definitely wider. They've spread some. I hear that scarring generally looks worse before it looks better- something about blood flow to the area making scars look reddened, but that'll stop as the healing continues. I woke up the other morning and forgot that I had scars til I looked down and remembered- that was nice. Not to forget that I've got a trans body, but to forget about the trauma I put my poor torso through in order to shape it like I wanted.

And really, that's one of the more taxing things I've ever put my body through. I had that heart surgery in 7th grade, but that seemed easier, somehow, because it was so minimally invasive, and deliberately kept lowkey. These are certainly the biggest scars on my body. I've never broken anything (except that pesky knee, but that seemed minor, too) and so this has been my major wound.

My nipples are healing well, and sensation is returning, but it does seem like the pain nerves are the first ones to come back, because they go from numb to stabby with nothing in between. I'm hoping that'll stop, which I think it will...already my incisions are less tender than they used to be, so that bodes well for the nips.

So anyway. It's very nice to feel like my chest is my own- a totally new feeling, I think. It used to feel like breasts, which didn't make sense as mine. I mean, I knew it was my skin, but it didn't make sense as my body, which is why my body freakouts were so often centered around my chest. And then after surgery, it was doubly alien for a while- unfamiliar, and also unfeeling. It was a Brownstein chest. Now, though...now, I think it's mine.

DMVictory!

Friday morning I went to the DMV with oodles of paperwork in hand and a supportive Rochelle by my side. 75 minutes, one eye test, two license request forms and a minimum of fuss later, I was awarded a NY State driver's license in the name of Elliott John, male. Pretty exciting! Of course, I didn't get to walk out with my new license...they took my picture that morning, but issued me a temporary paper license until they mail out my actual ID, which should arrive in 3 weeks or so. I'm impatient, but excited, though I also miss my old Oregon license already. I don't want to lose touch with my Oregonian identity! Now I'll just be any old New Yorker with a New York driver's license.

A male one, though. Named Elliott. *cue cheering*

It was a pretty painless event, all in all...I had to fill out one form with my old information on it to change from Oregon to NY, then another form with my new information, to change my name and gender on the NY license. Neither of the women I interacted with gave me any guff, just asked for all my paperwork and calmly worked everything out.

I've already been to the Bank and filed the forms for my new cards, so I'm waiting on those, and also with my human resources office at work- just waiting for them to update the database so I can get a new ID card. These things take weeks, apparently.

Tomorrow morning I'm headed over to the Social Security Office to get a new card. Excellent. Once that's taken care of, I think I'll be all set. My citizenship papers still have all my old information on them, but I think I can take that to a passport office with my letter and other documentation and apply for a passport (which would be a good thing to have anyway) with all the right information on it.

I need to call my cell phone company, still, but other than that, I think I'm in pretty good shape. Everyone who officially knew me as female will now know me as male.

And I have to say, it's a relief to have (or be in the process of acquiring, technically) documentation that doesn't cause a little glimmer of embarassment/disconnect when I show it to anyone.
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Another shot tonight. Woot. Still thinking about switching to weekly shots. We'll see if I make any progress on that front.

Still getting hairier daily, and my voice is still getting lower, which may be empirically verified (or not) by checking out my latest voice post here.

My sideburns are getting long and fuzzy in a vaguely 19th century sort of fashion. I'm immensely fond of this look, and am considering increasing their surface area into genuine muttonchop territory. I will, of course, keep you posted on this possibility. I'm spending Thanksgiving with my dad- I'm hoping he can give me some advice and guidance around getting some beard trimmers, which I think would help with this facial hair maintenance thing. I haven't a clue about brands or varieties (though I suspect they're mostly all the same) and I was thinking that beard trimmer shopping might be some nice Father-Son bonding time. Hopefully my sister will come along to offer what feminine depilatory wisdom as she sees fit.
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Next week, Ray from the Gender Identity Project (of recent New York Times fame) is coming up to the school where I work to give a presentation/training about working with Trans folks. I'm excited about it, and intrigued to see some good dialogue started on this topic in my workplace. I'm sort of out as trans and sort of not here...the first year students all read me as male, since they all know me post-surgery and hormones, whereas the second year students are a mixed bag. I don't know if they've been wondering about (or even noticing) my transition, but it's there to see if they've been paying attention. Unless they think I just started working out and not shaving as diligently this year, which could maybe explain my bulked up build, slimmer chest silhouette, and sideburns. Maybe.

Anyway, I don't know what the format of this training will be (lecture? Q & A?) so I don't know if there will be space for me to speak there, or even if I want to, but I'm definitely going- to support Ray, if nothing else.

the NY Times tango: two steps forward, one step back

Many folks have been sending me the article that was published in the New York Times yesterday (available online HERE) about the Board of Health considering a change to its birth certificate policy to enable trans folks to receive new, amended birth certificates with their chosen sex marker on them.

My reaction to the article is decidedly mixed.

The news is, of rourse, great- it's high time that the city reviewed and changed its policy around birth certificates. This is an important step towards removing some of the gatekeeping hurdles that are keeping trans folks from going on about their lives. I think it's highly important that people be able to have birth certificates which accurately reflect their gender identity and presentation, both for personal peace of mind, and also for identification purposes. Everything needs to match up if one wants to avoid a lot of potentially difficult, hurtful, and confusing situations. I've been fighting my own identity document skirmishes, as you well know, which I'll write about in a minute. But back to the Times article.

While the news is good news, the reporting and language of the article, on the other hand, don't get the highest marks from me. I certainly didn't appreciate the quotation from Dr. McHugh, the psychiatrist from John's Hopkins...he was the one who said that he'd "heard of" someone harassing people in the women's restrooms. I think that retelling such a fearmongering anecdote (just where did he "hear" this story?) is exactly the kind of smoke-with-no-fire vilification of trans people that hurts our cause the most. For one thing, putting an image of a stick person in a skirt on the door isn't going to make a restroom any safer, nor is this law (or the recent decision by the MTA to allow trans folks to use bathrooms of their choice) going to make restrooms less safe...anyone intent on harming or harassing someone is going to find their way into the bathroom anyway.

This isn't about allowing men to use women's restrooms- it's about not harassing women who might not look like most women, but have a right to use the women's room nonetheless. Which is a a crucially important distinction that's also completely missed in this article, and the poor reporting that really frustrates me.

The reporter repeatedly refers to trans people as "women who become men" or, as when referring to the lawyer quoted in the last paragraph, a "man who has lived as a woman since 2000." Those are innacurate and offensive characterizations. Transgendered men aren't "women who become men." We ARE men. We may have a different medical and social history than most men, but that in no way diminishes our identity and standing as men.

And frustratingly enough, it appears that the reporter has been told this...he quotes a transwoman who testified at the hearing, and notes that she "asked to be identified as a woman for this article." Such a disclaimer should not be necessary! If he isn't sensitive enough to know that he should refer to her as a woman, then it's a good thing that she asked him to. Following that, though, he shouldn't need to mention it in the article! Furthermore, he should follow those guidelines and refer to ALL transpeople respectfully, rather than with the invalidating "women who become men" lingo that he uses thoughout the rest of the article.

I know I'm being particular here, and that reporting around trans issues has come a long way, especially lately. At least this reporter got everyone's pronouns right, covered the topic in an essentially unbiased way, made sure to get quotations from people with multiple perspectives, even if some of the perspectives are frustrating.

And I am wary of making blanket pronouncements about what is or is not respectful to trans folks. "Transgender" is an enormous blanket term, and not all of us have similar ideas about what is and is not appropriate. I'm sure there are trans folks out there who wouldn't mind being described as a "man who became a woman," just as there are those of us who flinch at such binary terminology.

To me, such a description is both inaccurate- I don't think saying that I used to be a woman is very useful at all, since I never really fit any of the common definitions of the term, except perhaps anatomically- and insulting- it feels like an attempt at invalidation, an attempt to say "See! You're not REALLY a man."

I think that most of the people I know, trans or non-trans, would agree with me on those counts. The notion that gender oughtn't be defined by anatomy is one that has long since burst out of Women's and Gender Studies Departments, and I think it's clear to most reasonable people that describing someone who has transitioned as "a man living as a woman" is both hurtful and disrespectful.

So yeah. Anyone else have thoughts?

happy halloween

Last weekend my roommate and I went out to a Halloween party dressed as Adam + Eve, and looked adorable, as you can see. We went to a party at the house of some dear friends of ours and had mostly a very excellent time, until one unfortunate incident at the very end.

Part of the reason I was so excited to wear this costume is that it was so skimpy...I made a conscious choice to wear it to a party with a lot of friends, but also a lot of strangers. It was an act of deliberate disclosure, and a bit of vanity. As one of my friends put it, a fun costume and a chance to show off my new chest all at the same time. I felt good about it, because I want to make sure that I remain realistic and down to earth about my self and my body...this is what I have, wide hips, chest scars, and all, and it's a great body, and it's masculine, and it's mine. My kind of masculine.

Anyway, those good feelings were what made such a contrast to the crappy feelings I had at the end of the night. Long story short, another party guest, whom I'd never met before that evening, was sitting next to me on the couch when (with neither invitation nor provocation) she decided to reach over and pinch my nipple. Hard.

I don't know if I'd have been so upset if it hadn't been so a) surprising and b) painful! My nipples are still very much healing, and I don't have a lot of sensation in them yet, but most of what I do have is pain reaction. Her pinch hurt a lot, and kept throbbing for several hours afterwards, besides feeling very invasive and inappropriate. It was crappy because it reminded me that my nipples are definitely still second class nipples at the moment- surgically reconstructed, and not healed, and in a new place on my chest. It was the first time that I've been made to feel bad about my new chest, and that hurt almost as much as the over-zealous tweaking.

Discussing the episode with one of my friends, he suggested that it could be a function of my evolving presentation as a gay guy. I'm still my usual fey self, and now that I'm no longer so ambiguously gendered, gay dude is the immediate and natural conclusion that most folks come to. And I'm fine (nay, happy!) with that, though I'll leave for another time the in depth discussion of my complicated queerness. Anyway, my friend reminded me that gay guys are often overtly sexualized by (usually straight) women, as a sort of "safe target" for sexual flirtation and interaction, especially since gay guys are seen as so hypersexual anyway. Doesn't excuse her behavior, but perhaps explains it?
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Other than that irritating incident, life has been pretty good lately. The shots keep coming every two weeks, and my six month milestone bloodwork came back with nothing remarkable on it. We're going to go over specifics next week, but it seems like I'm falling in a normal range on all parameters. I'm looking forward to the spring, and the possibility of learning to self-inject and give myself my shots for two reasons- it'd be nice not to have to schlep over to Callen-Lorde every other week for what should be a 10 minute interaction but for which I often have to wait over 30 minutes. Also, I think my body might do better on a 1 week cycle...I'm beginning to suspect that my acne is related to peaks in my T cycle, and my mood swings related to troughs, as both of these maladies seem to be cyclic in their intensities.

However, I'm not looking forward to actually having to be the one to stick the needle in my butt. I'm a pretty tough guy, and I don't have problems with these shots I get now, but I'm getting a little squeamish just thinking about having to jab myself. We'll see.
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I finally got the last piece of paperwork from the courthouse about my name change, and I should be getting a letter in the mail from Dr. Brownstein any day now certifying that he performed "irreversible gender reassignment surgery" on me, so I'm hoping on Monday I can embark on the complicated treasure hunt of getting all of my documentation changed. I need to go to the courthouse and pick up certified copies of my name change order, go to the DMV for a new license (trade in my old Oregon one for a NY one with Elliott on it and M in the gender category), go to the Social Security Office for a new Social Security Card, go to the bank and request new cards (though not new checks, since I had them put just my first initial and last name on the last batch), call my student loan company and update them, and go over to the Human Resources office here at Columbia to update their database and get a new ID card. phew. I think that might be it. maybe fax something to Simon's Rock for their records. Don't know yet what order I'll do this all in, since these places are variously located all over town, but I'm gonna dedicate all of Monday to the endeavor, so hopefully I can get it all done in one exhausting day. Better bring a book and some comfortable shoes for the undoubtedly endless line-waiting I'll have to endure.
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Plenty of other things swilling through my brain that I never seem to have the time to post. I'm still sporadically attending the TransMasculine drop-in group downtown, though I missed last week. I am of course grateful and delighted to be part of a trans community here in the city, but also worried about being subsumed or assimilated somehow into what is surely a new and vaguely radical box, but a box nonetheless...and along what are often essentially arbitrary lines.

In other words, sometimes I wonder about hanging out with other transguys just because we're all trans. Identity politics can be dangerous, even though there have been innumberable benefits to connecting and strategizing with other transguys. Ending the isolation is awesome! But I worry about, as a fairly brilliant friend put it the other night, all of our narratives blending into each other and losing distinction. There's plenty of ways to pursue one's own masculinity, and having out at group can sometimes feel like TransMan 101: How to Do It Right. I know we try to avoid that, and honor all perspectives and paths, but it's a hard trap to avoid.

And on what feels like a related note, I've been feeling a little silly lately when I remember that I'm not the only person doing this transition thing. If that's the right way to put it. Basically, this has been feeling very natural and normal (of COURSE I'm growing a beard and don't have breasts any more), and it's easy to forget that it's a path I set myself on very deliberately, and worked hard to stay on. When I see other of my friends transitioning, and notice how different they look/sound than they did when I met them, it reminds me that I, too, used to look and sound different. This is such a personal journey, but so public, too.

bloody funny

I donated blood yesterday at the Red Cross blood drive on campus, and re-learned the valuable lesson that people are going to see what they want to see, despite any and all evidence to the contrary.

I'd been a little nervous about donating, since they ask for ID, and I haven't gotten my new license yet (argh!). So I decided to just suck it up and put down the name and gender that's on my old license, and explain whatever needed explaining if it came to that.

So I put that down, and put "F" in the box at the top. There are two gender-specific questions- a pregnancy question, where the answer choices are Yes, No and I'm Male, and a "have you had fag sex since 1977?" question, where the choices are Yes, No, and I'm Female. I answered those as though I were female.

After waiting for quite a while, a friendly nurse finally comes over and apologizes for forgetting about me, and starts going over the questionnaire pretty quickly. First she says "Is this you? Did you say your name was Eli?" and points at my name, and I tell her yes, that's my legal name, and give her my ID, which she looks at, and writes down that it's a driver's license.

She starts going over my list of answers, and stops at the question about whether I'd gotten any shots recently. I'd said yes, and when I told her that my doctor had given me a shot of testosterone last week, she didn't really blink, just asked why.

I squirmed for a second, wondering whether to disclose. Up til this point she'd been calling me he, teasing me about wearing my Mets sweatshirt (she was a Yankee fan, but I didn't hold it against her), being friendly and clearly treating me as male. Clearly, didn't see the F on my license. So I just said "Um, I've got a hormonal imbalance, I take testosterone every two weeks."

She just nodded, writes that down, keeps going...and I notice that she has checked the "I'm Male" box next to the pregnancy question, as well as the No box that I'd already checked. And then she gets to the "Have you had gay sex?" question, where I've marked the box that says "I'm female" and says "You're not female! Answer this one again!" and crosses it out and looks up at me expectantly.

What's a guy to do?

I said "Just kidding!" and answered the question, and we carried on from there, and I donated blood, and got cookies, and it was fine.

Moral of the story? Clearly, it was truly ridiculous for the judge to deny me a masculine name because it would be fraudulent, since even when I TELL people that I'm "female" they see me as male. Thanks, of course, to some sideburns and a flat chest and a low voice, etc.

I suppose I could've done some sort of educational activism and said "Actually, I'm a transsexual." Which would've been interesting in its own right, and was what I was prepared to do, since I assumed that the nurse would, oh, I don't know...notice the gender markers all over everything, and believe what I wrote down on the form. Anyway. Funny story.

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A parade of aesthetic changes:

-You may have noticed that I altered the layout of this blog slightly. I may continue to fiddle a bit with it.
-I put up a new voice clip here, though I don't think things are changing as dramatically. I've been trying to sing lately without much success...I just don't know where my voice is anymore. Also, I'm totally guilty of lowering my voice too much. I used to have to try so hard to get my voice to dip down low that now I sing TOO low when I'm trying to sing along with my favorite tenors and even baritones.
-I'm continuing to get broader and fuzzier. Funny exchange with Fleury (my roommate) last night:

Eli, studiedly casual: Did you notice my beard?
Fleury: ....
Eli: Well, I mean, I didn't shave for three days, because it was the weekend, and then because I wanted to see what would happen, and so, you know, I was just wondering if you noticed my beard.
Fleury: Now that you mention it, Eli, I guess I can tell that you're kinda scruffy. But no, I didn't notice your beard.
Eli: Oh.

-I went to the gym yesterday for the first time since...April? March. Went into the Men's locker room, looked around vaguely, then stuffed my things in a locker near the front and hurried out. We'll see if I can maintain my beefcake routine. Studly abs, here I come!

infiltrator

I'm very glad that most of the time, I don't feel like an interloper to the Land of Men. When I first started living as male full time, I had that feeling a lot, despite my best (most radical) intentions not to. When you've been raised your whole life on one side of a fence, and now everyone thinks you've crossed over to the other side of the fence, it's hard not to feel a bit strange, even if declare that there is no fence. Like one of those invisi-shock electric dog perimeters, it's still a jolt to step over that invisible line. Maybe the trick is learning to rid oneself of the dog collar?

Whatever the trick, I've mostly gotten the hang of it- I still feel like an immigrant to ManLand, but I've definitely made my home here, and I'm making my peace with the remnants of the Motherland that I carry with me.

But some are harder than others. For example, (and this is goofy, but it's true) it's really hard for me not to be self-conscious in a men's restroom when there's someone else in there. Bathrooms are small, echoey, and I can't shake the feeling that the other guys are noticing things. I mean, I used to be worried about "passing muster" and being challenged as to my right to be in there. I don't much anymore- I'm no longer misread as female by strangers on any sort of regular basis. And I don't bleed anymore, so I don't have to deal with the hassle of where to put my tampons, since (surprise!) men's rooms don't have those handy little garbage cans in each stall. (As an aside, I guess I always thought those were a universal bathroom thing, since when I was a kid I used 'em for candy wrappers or kleenex or what have you. Nope!)

But I do still have weird bathroom moments, like "Can people tell from the sound of my pee that I'm trans?"

Fortunately, I usually follow that up with the shocking realization that most people in public restrooms are not paying attention to the sound of each other's pee, or whether they're sitting or standing, etc.

Because goddamit, I'm a dude, and I sit to pee, so I'm going to sit to pee in the dude's restroom whether anyone notices or not!

Anyway. I was remembering this over the weekend while I was at Smith, and using the (de facto) women's bathroom on my sister's hall. I felt like an interloper again, for a minute, shaving my face at the sink.

Which had its own additionally weird feelings of being an imposter...coincidentally, someone else on the floor had a male visitor that weekend, and he came in to change his contacts or something just when I was squirting shaving cream onto my hand. I immediately felt that familiar nervousness...I've never had anyone else who shaves their face watch me while I shave. Am I doing this right, after all? Do I use too much cream? Too little? Is it clear that I wasn't trained at my father's waist from the time I could reach the taps on the sink to prepare for my own shaving one day?

I know that everyone does things differently anyway, that all guys have their own individual shave routines, and, besides, he wasn't gay and thus even more unlikely to be checking me out/noticing me at all in the bathroom mirror.

So I shaved, and reminded myself that I'm not an interloper- more like a returning expatriate, and any unusual habits left over from my upbringing in a different place are fine, just fine.

publicity

So I'm not exactly a blushing wallflower when it comes to interacting with the public, but I do have some (reasonable, I think) expectations and feelings around privacy. A lot of it is faith in my fellow human- I put a lot of things out in public, but mostly with the expectation that it's all going to be used for good, and that the folks who need or want my information or perspective are the ones who'll be taking it.

Like this blog. Clearly, it's open and available to the public, but I tend to assume that only folks for whom it's relevant (my personal friends/family, other trans folks, friends/family of other trans folks) will be reading it.

So I put some pictures up on Transster, the surgery photo/information sharing site for FTMs. There are a lot of pictures and stories up there, and I think it's an incredibly valuable resource for information sharing, and demystifying what is often a strange/scary/unknowable future for isolated trans folks. I sure spent a lot of time logged into Transster, looking at what was possible, trying to evaluate my options, deciding on a surgeon.

Anyway, the point of this is, along with the pictures, I put up a little bit of information ("very satisfied- some nipple sensation return" etc) and my email address, so that folks could contact me. Then, not 24 hours after I put up my pictures (two pictures, pretty similar to the ones I put up in my last post on this blog, except not showing my face), I get this email:

Hi, first of all I'm not FTM or MTF, but I've been reasearching this topic for some time now. I just find this so amazing how the body can be transformed from one to another. Looking at your surgery it seems like you got the desired results yu were looking for. have you done anything to the bottom of yur body. I would love to see any other pics you may of before and afters. Would it be fair to say that most FTm's are in gay relationships or am I off base there. Well I won't hold yu up any further. Nice job by Brownstein- it seems hes about 50% on the popularity chart - its good to see someone likes him.

And I have to say, it weirds me out a little bit. I think I'd be less weirded out if I knew more about this person or what they wanted this information for...are they an ally? Do they have trans folks in their life? Why are they "researching this topic" and with what sort of opinion?

They're pretty polite, but at the same time, pretty invasive(have I done anything to the "bottom of my body"???).

I don't want to brush someone off who's genuinely trying to educate themselves, but at the same time, I don't like feeling like a lab rat for no good reason. Transster is a resource by and for the trans community. I have a gut feeling that this person isn't really a part of that community. Then again, who am I to gatekeep at our community's doors?

Ugh. I don't know.

transsexual empire

Nothing too exciting- there's a new voice post up here, and I've been taking lots of self portraits of myself, so I thought I'd pepper this entry with them. My 6 months on T mark passed last week without much fanfare, along with my 2 months past surgery date. I'm looking and feeling good, except for a gross head cold that I'm currently nursing.

I'm going to visit my sister this weekend, and our dad is going to come hang out with us on Sunday. I haven't seen him since March (before T or surgery) so there's going to be quite a bit of visual catching up to do. We've stayed in touch via phone, so he's pretty up to speed with everything that's been going on, but he hasn't seen me in quite a while, so this should be...interesting. He's been wonderfully supportive throughout everything, wishing me well with my name change battles and sending me care packages while I was recovering from surgery. I think he's really into the idea of having a son, which is great!

I know that he's always loved me and been proud of me, but he's definitely been showing it more since I started transitioning. I don't know whether he decided to jump in at a transitional (no pun intended) moment and start stepping up more, or if it's a function of him being more comfortable relating to me as a son than a masculine daughter. If it is the latter, though, I wonder what it means that he's more comfortable with me now.

I guess that this is (of course) really related to something that i've been chewing over about myself...namely, what does it mean (in a larger context) that I'm happier and more comfortble with myself as a guy than a masculine female. Part of it is coming from longstanding (and somehow unquenchable) worry that this (this what? my transition? my masculine identity? something like that.) is rooted in misogyny, somehow. Couldn't handle being a masculine female, so I had to transition.

Doesn't help that this view is the too-common misinterpretation of transness that one hears from some lesbian/feminists, all the way back to Janice Raymond and her "Transsexual Empire" book. I hate that I've internalized this transphobia, but I can't keep myself from wondering about it.

Because, face it, being trans is kinda weird. Not bad! But not normal, anyway. And I used to feel kinda busted about it, and now I mostly don't, but I still can't help wondering why I'm like this.

Amy told me this morning to stop beating myself up for asking questions...told me not to punish myself for being able and willing to go there, search for a broader context.

She's right, I know, and that made me feel better, but I still worry.

Maybe it's because I'm too used to worrying about something. Worrying about whether to transition, then how to transition....now, I've done what I set out to do, and I'm at a loss.

Learn how to be content, Eli!

mish mash splish splash

Further nuggets of gender-related musing, served jumbled together for your enjoyment. Like dim sum! A little bit of everything, and a lot of it.

-This weekend I looked in the mirror and decided that my hairline is receding. Just a tiny tiny little bit, around my temples, where I've always had blonde streaks anyway, so it's always looked like I've had slightly receding hair at my temples. But now I think it's definitely further back than it used to be. I could, of course, be making this up entirely. But I don't think so. I wonder sometimes about whether I'm destined for baldness. People always say to look at your mom's dad, but that's only because most guys only have one X chromosome. I've got two, so I have to check out both sides of my family. Well, my dad's pretty much bald as a bowling ball, and I don't know about the rest of his family. My mom's got three brothers, two of whom have very thick hair, and another who is thin/balding on top. I don't know about her dad, but I think he had thick dark hair til very late in life. So I figure I've got a 50-50 chance, based on that data. Though maybe slightly better, since I do more closely resemble (dark, thick hair instead of lighter, finer hair) the two uncles with hair remaining rather than than the other uncle or my dad. On the other hand, I'm pretty fine with being one of those bald, bearded guys. I think I could rock that aesthetic pretty thoroughly. So we'll see. I'll try not to be too neurotic about it.

-The transmasculine support group has started up again, Wednesday nights at 7:30 at the Center. It was good to go and see everyone, but I've also got a few ambivalent feelings from last week's session. First, I've got a nagging feeling that we're not going to cover as much ground as in the past. Well, that's not true- in general, I'm sure we will, but specific to me (and isn't it always all about me?) , I have a sense that there is a Law of Diminishing Returns at work here. That is, I'm going to get less out of this than I have in the past, because we're going to spend a lot of time re-treading paths that we as a group and I as an individual have trotted down before.

This is a good sign, I think- group is great as a socialization medium, but it's main purpose (I think) is to help all of us get a handle on this process that we're going through- that is, the process of understanding our trans identities. The fact that going to group doesn't seem as crucially helpful anymore probably means that I've gotten a better handle on myself. So hurrah for that!

I think I'll keep going- I think I have a lot to add, and a lot still to gain from going. Hopefully I can take away things that are helpful for me, be it insights or strategies, even if we talk about things that aren't as relevant for my anymore, like coming out to family. Also, and I think this is a function of our necessarily small community, we each have a finite amount of experience and stories to tell. I'm starting to become familiar with our discussion topics not just in general, but specific to those of us who've been attending for a while. I know these guys' stories now! As they know mine, no doubt. Hopefully we can keep from boring each other.

I mentioned a few ambivalent feelings. The others are not so much about the group itself as feelings prompted by the conversation we had last week. It ties into other things I've been thinking about, and so therefore gets its own bullet point:

-Loss! Yes, indeedy. Related to what I mentioned here the other day about recent lack of solid ground; that lack is originating in no small part from my currently complicated feelings about my transition. Namely, I'm not quite sure how to manage myself as I want to celebrate and rejoice being a happy happy guy, and also feel kind of sad about letting go of my former self as a masculine female person.

Lately I've been thinking that maybe it's related to this large/colossal sense of unfairness about the whole thing that I think is nested inside me. I rarely let it out, but still, there's a little genderless part of me inside that's stamping hir foot and exclaiming, irrationally and contradictorily, "It's not fair! Other boys don't have to grow up with breasts and hips and periods and then fight fight fight with judges and surgery bills and needles twice a week in order to live normally!" "It's not fair! Other female-born people are happy being boyish and masculine and butch and don't feel like they're busted, and being mis-seen by the rest of the world!" "It's not fair! Other trans guys know that they're trans from the age of 2 and never question their feelings!" "It's not fair! At long last I'm feeling happy and secure in my body and I have to start dredging up questions of origin!"

Sounds like I want to be every gender and eat my cake, too.

That last bit is what's been giving me trouble. Now that I'm where I am, that I've accomplished these goals I've set for myself, I've got time to slow down, take a breath, and start speculating. Being happy is making me forget what it was like being unhappy with my body, which makes me start to wonder what it would've been like if I hadn't been able to transition. The fact that I don't think (unlike, so it seems, many other trans folks) that I'd be dead or a non-functional member of society is really getting to me. It seems invalidating, and it's a scary question to try to explore.

Where would I be? Is it even worth asking, since clearly, I'm not there? And related to that, why am I here? I know the most basic and important answer to that question: I transitioned (am transitioning?) because I wanted to, because I know (and can confirm now!) that I'm happier living as a [trans]guy. The next, scarier (though not as scary once I keep reminding myself that it's theoretical and critical in the purely intellectual sense) question is: why am I happier this way?

-Ohhhkay, enough angst. In other news, I'm really scruffy today, owing to not having shaved in 3+ days. It's still really only noticeable up close, but since I blathered on the other day about my facial hair, I feel like I should mention that I'm definitely starting to see encroachment further up my cheeks.

Yes, I talk about my "beard" a lot. Yes, I spend a lot of time with my chin thrust towards the mirror, squinting with one eye, examining my "stubble." Yes, I know, I'm really cool.

-Last but not least, I got a message today from an acquaintance from college, who said she'd seen my new Friendster picture (one of the shirtless-self-portrait-in-the-mirror pictures I posted here a few weeks ago) and wanted to know if I'd "had an operation."

What is it about that phrase that rubs me the wrong way? I guess it sounds archaic and full of assumptions to me. Sounds like the phrase "getting a sex change," it's out of date and uninformed. On the other hand, surgery IS an operation, right? Just because I'd say "I had some surgery" rather than "an operation" doesn't make it unacceptable. I guess it's just a matter of being fluent in the language of my community- just because she's not up on the lingo doesn't mean she doesn't mean well. Woo, lot of double negatives in that last statement. Maybe I need to stop compulsively analyzing this line of communication and just write her back a short, polite answer.

Yes. I've had an operation.

Dolly Parton Travelin' Thru

Here's a clip of Dolly performing her song live- I still recommend listening to the recorded version, too, but this will give you a taste of how excellent this song is.

travelin' thru

An assortment of things that I've been thinking about:

-I shave every other day or every three days now, in an effort not to look like a slob. If I let it go over a whole weekend, I've definitely got stubble by the end, though it remains contained in distinctly adolescent localizations. It seems to be growing from the outside in, coming up my neck and down along my sideburns, straining to meet along the edge of my jaw. Someday, presumably, it'll start filling in up along my cheeks, and I'll have a real honest to goodness beard. I wonder whether all boys wait and wonder and hope for their beards, or just those of us who were at first denied the possibility of it? I use nice quality disposable razors now, and try to change it every 10 shaves (three weeks) or so. I've been using shaving gel from a can- it always surprises me how far a little dab of that stuff will go, spread in circular motions with careful fingertips. I'll daub it all over my face, then start the water running so I can rinse my blade between swipes. I always shave my moustache area first, since that's where the shaving cream is most annoying- it tickles my lips and nose. I don't always shave my upper lip, though- only every other shave- because it doesn't seem to be growing in as fast as my jawline. I keep meaning to get a shaving bowl to use as a water basin so that I don't just waste water while I carefully scrape away at my face, trying to avoid the acne flare-ups, and keep an even line down the edge of my sideburns. Also, someday, in the distant When-I'm-a-Grownup future, I'd like to use shaving soap and a boar-bristle brush, and a nice razor. Maybe not a straight razor (unless I got some proper training on the matter, and where do you get that?) but a nicer razor than the Gilettes I've been using.

-I'm growing a pelt. It's a little hard to keep track of, since I usually only notice my body hair when I'm naked, and I don't always have my glasses on when I'm naked, and without my glasses, it's damn hard to see those fine little hairs cropping up all over. But on the other hand, I spend enough time scrutinizing myself that it's hard to miss: when I'm leaning over the bathroom mirror, it starts to become obvious that patterns of hair are establishing themselves up and down my sternum, spreading down beneath my collarbone. Again, with the interesting hair patterns- my leg hair has definitly been creeping up from my ankles, but my chest hair seems to be starting at the middle (sternum, down to encircle the belly button) and working its way out.

-It's just about exactly two months since I've had surgery. Seems like the blink of an eye, whereas when I was counting down at two months until surgery, it seemed like forever. Makes me remember what a small percentage of my life I've lived already, and how long I've yet to go. Puts things in perspective when it comes to my impatience with my feelings of tumultuousness. I feel like my life's in upheaval again right now, because I'm once again in new territory. See, I'd finally gained some solid ground last winter and spring: I'd arrived in New York, found my community, set things in motion for myself. I'd made plans for transitioning and my name and my life, I'd gotten everybody on board the good ship Eli Is A Guy, and I felt solid as a female-bodied, male-identified person. In short, waves were starting to subside from the big "Oh, I'm a guy!" realization/disclosure/upheaval.

Now, I've gone ahead and gotten myself into a vaguely post-transition state and (oh the irony) feel more in transition than ever before.

By post-transition I mean that I've passed the critical mass of months on T such that my masculine secondary sex characteristics are firmly established, and strangers read me as male nearly 100% of the time. I've surgically altered my body in the most immediate and drastic way that I had plans for. I've gotten my name legally changed (though, to be fair, that hasn't finished processing yet). These things are some of the traditionally major hurdles (milestones?) in the FTM transition process...and, with a few wrinkles excepted, I've mostly ironed them all out.

I'd expect to feel relieved and elated and accomplished right about now. And I do! But I also feel, familiarly enough, that I'm lacking solid ground beneath my feet. I've changed up my life again, and I need to settle in and rediscover and acclimate to how things are now. I've mentioned in passing that 2006 seems to be the year of Transitions with a capital T- maybe 2007 will be the year (or the first year) of adjusting instead of changing.

I hope so. I like solid ground. Sometimes I worry that it means I'm not truly radical at heart, because everything I know about being radical means tearing structure down. Though, I guess, there's nothing to say that it can't be rebuilt in a good way.

-About a week ago, I got an invitation to return to Simon's Rock to be part of an alumni panel on Family Weekend- sort of a "What I did after I graduated from SRC" deal. Laying aside concerns about why they'd want me on the panel, since I haven't really done anything impressive like go to grad school or whathaveyou, I was pretty conflicted about whether or not to go. I think maybe it's too soon to go back there- the impressions of my past are still strong and deep there. It hasn't been that long since everyone on campus knew Emma ...and that's scary. I know that I have many friends and allies, most of whom understand (at least to some extent) that I'm not Emma anymore, I'm Eli. (aside: that may be the first time I've ever written that sentence...I have tried hard to keep Emma and Eli in separate sentences. interesting.) Anyway, I'm worried about going back, since the last time I was there, people who didn't know any better called me 'she' and just fucked up my whole weekend. It was really uncomfortable.

I don't want to be cowardly, though. I've changed a lot since April, and I have to trust those changes on a lot of levels: I have to trust that the folks still at the Rock will know and respect me as Eli, I have to trust that those who don't will just follow the cues that I offer now (sideburns, voice, etc), and I have to trust myself to be strong enough to deal with any possible uncomfortable situations that might occur. So I've accepted, and I'm going to be on the panel- it's Saturday, October 28th. Optimism, optimism!

-Last but not least, Dolly Parton sings a song called "Travelin' Thru" that she wrote for Transamerica, that Felicity Huffman movie I still haven't seen. Dolly's song is beautiful and heartfelt and true, and is country music about being trans (!! my little heart could just explode from sheer delight), and I listen to it probably once a day.

Hottie McHotterson

In a continuation of my recent photoblogging ways, this is me indulging myself in some shamelessly vain posting of pictures that my friend Mary Ellen took at the end of my birthday party a few weeks ago. Please ignore the part where I look bleary/tired/vaguely drunk, and enjoy the beefcake action.

(As an aside, I think my scars have calmed down even more since these pictures were taken- I've been very faithfully rubbing Mederma into them, and it seems to be helping. They're getting paler and smoother by the day. I have high hopes for them virtually disappearing! I've heard that one is supposed to massage mature scars to encourage them to smooth out, but I'm not sure at what point to start that. Also: sensation continues to return! My nipples seem to be mildly responsive to cold now, and I can feel pressure across most of my chest. This at only 7 weeks, too! Things are looking good. As you can see!)

can't win 'em all

Good news: My notice of name change was published in the Village Voice today, for a mere $73 (on the low end, I hear- I guess I've got a short name!), and they'll send me the necessary documents soon, such that I can go to court, get the certified copies of my official name change (at 6 bucks each), and then go to the DMV and get new identification (probably around $50...geeze, it's expensive to be a transsexual!)

Bad news: They spelled my damn name wrong. Only put one t in Elliott. I double-checked, and I faxed them the correct spelling, so I don't know what their problem is. I'm debating whether I should call and ask them to run it again, correctly, or if I should just shrug and let it go. Oh well. Nobody's going to read it, anyway.