Kid Problems

One of my best friends has two beautiful, wonderful girls, aged 6 and 4 (I think). Everything has been hunky dory as far as transition goes with both of them. They both call me Sophia, which is great! And up until recently, the six year old has been using the correct pronouns. But these last couple of visits, she keeps on saying “you’re not a girl. You’re a boy.” Now, she’s young, and it has never happened in public, so I try to use it as a coaching moment. Sure, it stings a bit, but her reasoning is a rather astute observation for one so young. She says that I have to be a boy because my voice sounds like a boy. And here we are again. No matter how much I explain, no matter how many books or videos I show her, I think she is always going to revert to this way of thinking. And I know it’s jarring to EVERYBODY who comes in contact with me what with the way I dress and then I open my fucking mouth. One of the shitty things that older trans women have to address. To modulate the voice or not. If not, then one has to expect a lot of stares, and some outright rudeness and transphobia. It sucks, but in this cis heteronormative environment one must expect the worst, and be pleasantly surprised with the good.

Maybe I need to have a talk with her mama, my best friend. I don’t want any friction, but there is going to come a time when out in public and she slips up and she won’t know any better, but I will be totally embarrassed.

I bought a book by Sophie Labelle.  She writes cartoons about gender issues surrounding trans and cis kids. I hope this can be a good tool to convey my feelings with no ill will toward either of them. And there is no ill will. It’s just that once is a mistake. Anything after that and the kid is doing some serious questioning of my gender based on clothing and such vs. my fucking voice.

Everybody used to tell me I had a great speaking voice. But fuck, it is so hard to change it. Halp!!!!

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Passing

Passing, in terms of the trans community often mean the ability to move through society and be accepted as the gender you present, without question. One assumes it can be liberating, after struggling for so long, and fighting for their identity for so long. It seems like it would be peaceful on the surface.

Sometimes, however, if someone is trying to be stealth while passing, it can become a pain in the ass (from my non-passing ass). Having to keep up a narrative, which is certainly true, but knowing that they could run into someone from their previous life, a person from the past. How to explain that to all ones new associates/friends, and would that ruin ones stealth/passing privilege?

For me, passing privilege left the train station about a decade ago. Yeah, I get gendered correctly a good bit, but I get gendered incorrectly a lot, too. I feel like I am too big, too bulky, and an all around awkward-type gal.

What does not passing mean to me? It means I will always have to watch over my shoulder when I’m out. It lends itself to my fear of being beat/murdered for being a trans woman. Even scarier for me would be the embarrassing confrontations with transphobic people in public. I mean, I still go around and do shit. I’m still me. But I constantly think about my safety. Maybe passing would bring me new dangers, in the form of aggressive guys, and that would suck. I don’t have a creeper problem now, so that is something to be happy about. Not passing, though, means, I will have to, in effect, come out for the rest of my life. I mean, I’m poorly, so I’m always at the doctor’s office and I always have to disclose that I’m trans there, or they already knew me by deadname.

Am I sad about not passing? I don’t know…I think I am more sad that I didn’t get my childhood/teenage years as a girl. I was robbed of that experience. And not being on blockers, or even being cognizant of my gender woes as a child has doomed me to a fate of striving for something that will always be out of reach. Will I ever pass 100% of the time? Nah, but, honestly, I don’t think it matters to me. I care that my friends and family (not necessarily blood, as I feel they are a lost cause. They are trying, but not very hard) respect and see me as the woman I see myself as… I just thought of something. Maybe I need to work more on how I see myself, as that may manifest in how others see me. Roll with me – see, if I have more confidence in my looks, in my being, maybe others will see that and it will be like a mirror, except they see me as I see me. I don’t know. Now I’m rambling…

All I know is that I am not going to pass all the time, but some of the time is good. And as long as I am being respected, or left alone, I will be good.

Talking With Papa Bear

Welcome back, dear readers of the page! Today, I wanted to write a little bit about my recent (Friday) conversation with my dad, who I affectionately call Papa Bear. He is a great guy, and has always been an excellent father and man. He has accomplished so, so much in his time on this planet. Military – Army – retired full bird, flight surgeon, airborne, officer, the list goes on and on. Oh yeah, there’s more. He was an OBGYN for many years, with many achievements while working. He, then went back to Theology school and graduated with a doctorate. He is extremely active in his church, and that community, I really could go on and on.

Papa Bear (and Mom) got me into soccer. They took me all around the Southeast states for traveling teams, soccer camps, you name it. Me and my dad even refereed a couple of seasons together. He took me to what I consider to be one of the most momentous times in my life – the first time I saw Les Miserables at The Fabulous Fox theater in Atlanta. This was years ago, when I was a kid. My mom didn’t want to go, and that allowed me to go! Oh my god!! I remember being so so so overwhelmed and overcome with emotion and passion and the feels. It was insane. And that sparked my desire and love for Broadway and musical theater of all forms. Of course, both of my parents had us watching The Sound Of Music for many years before then, but being at the theater, with the beautiful painted dome of a ceiling; the plushness of the entire evening was entirely enchanting, and I owe that entirely to my dad. I don’t think he really knows how significant an event that was in my upbringing. I mean, I haven’t accomplished anything, other than not killing myself, but I like to think of myself as a lover of words, and a crafter of words.  But still, seeing Les Miserables from the fourth row orchestra was an amazing thing. Back that up by seeing Phantom Of The Opera, where the chandelier comes crashing down – we were right under the damn thing! It was freaky! And amazing! Stunning! And the sound of the organ! Holy guacamole, these events, and a lot more like them, shaped me into the way I think and entertain ideas today! The way I interpret art, poetry, writing,and music. Yeah, school can bring some of that to the table, a scholarly way to look at art and music, poetry and writing. But I think that the constant feeding of art-positive activities, of introducing kids to all kinds of art early in life, builds a certain character, and a certain beauty of mind and an all together wonderful and whole way of thinking and forming ones mind.

Anyway, on Friday, Papa Bear called me to talk about my decision to have GAS. We never have deep conversations, and he acknowledged as much, going so far as to say that he is like my grandfather in that way. This is fine with me. I know he loves me in no uncertain terms, and now I know that he is not going to disown me either, lol. I don’t know why I freaked so much. They (my parents) are entirely decent people, just very cis het and not understanding or knowing too much about trans issues.

But, my dad and I had a good conversation. Of course, since he was and OBGYN he had to tell me a story of a “burly 6’4” police officer who had GAS and had some bad complications. And, yeah, it is terrifying, but not terrifying enough to change my mind, hahahaha. Hopefully, more than trying to change my mind, he wanted to make me more aware of the potential after effects of the surgery.

The point of this whole post is that my Papa Bear is an entirely decent person, who didn’t disown me, and still loves and supports me. He still won’t call me Sophia, lol. But, we’re in a good place!

A Strange Case Of Dysphoria

So, dear readers of the page, I am experiencing some dysphoria again. I fucking hate how it comes and goes. Like, one day (or even one hour, one minute) I’ll be fine, and the next is no bueno.

Right now, it’s all woe is me. I’m sir’d all the time, and I am too scared to correct most people. Especially now, during winter (not even winter yet) where I’m wearing big coats and things like that, I am getting heavily sir’d.  It is extremely frustrating and painful. I really don’t know what to do.

I need a shit ton of money. One, I need to pay off my damn student loan. Two, and more important for me than that damn student loan – I need money for transition. I need an orchi so I can stop taking the spiro. I think it is really fucking with my kidneys pretty badly. More on that at a later date. I need to get my name changed. Fuck, I need to get my voice in order. It is still very man-like, and, aside from my face, is what brings the sirs on hardcore.

I have recently begun thinking about FFS (facial feminization surgery) and a boob job. When I started transition, and even up until a couple months ago, I wouldn’t have thought these surgeries would be necessary for me to live as authentic a life as possible. And an authentic life, for me, means society at large seeing me as a woman, even if it is as an ugly woman.

FFS is stupid expensive. We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars. Making tiny changes to the bone structure of my face would allow me and everyone around me to not have to play the gender game. Of course, my friends gender me correctly. Even then, though, I have doubts as to their beliefs. I know I shouldn’t care. I have an amazingly supportive wife in Egg; I just can’t helping thinking that a little work on my face would help.

I think I already covered the BA thing. Dr. Tangpricha just told me not to expect much, if any, more boob growth. So let’s just throw another five thousand in the transition pot why don’t we? Fuck, this is getting depressing.  The boob job is doable. HAHAHAHA who am I kidding. I have never had five thousand dollars. I would be surprised if I ever do. But I’ve got to find a way to come up with that.

If I can scrounge up a paltry eight thousand dollars, I would be able to get my orchi, a BA, and my name change. I am still shooting for an orchi and name change in 2018. I don’t know how to manifest that shit. Maybe it’s time for some spell work?! And some good, old-fashion hard work. I’m not against working. It’s just that every time I start working, I get sick. I was on disability, but disability does not give enough money, and even though my Crohn’s is actively flaring atm, my bipolar disorder is in check. When I was awarded disability last time, all of my issues were popping off at the same time. It was a nightmare.

The thing about disability though, at least for me, is that it made me feel worthless. Now, I am beginning to feel worthless again, but I am not being paid for it. I think this sucks even more. I need a job that will respect my pronouns and gender identity. Fuck, I’m going to make myself even more sick than I already am. Oh wells, dear readers of the page, I hope 2018 is better than 2017.

I shouldn’t complain, and I need to stop. I have a wonderful Egg who provides for the both of us. And I cannot forget my parents. Fuck, I am one lucky bitch. I could have completely unsupportive parents and a wife who wants to divorce. Instead, unlike many of my trans siblings, I have clothes and food and shelter and loving (insert caveat) parents and an eggcellent wife who supports and loves me for me.

It’s just hard, you know? Well, if you’re cis, you prolly don’t. Recently, I told one of my friends about FFS. She looked at me in horror – like, why would you want to do that. She cannot understand. She can accept that I’m trans, but I don’t think she really understands what that means, and what dysphoria is and all that entails. I shouldn’t expect her to. Her reaction kind of caught me off guard, though. After explaining FFS, as I said, her face was one of abject horror as she wondered out loud how I could ever want to go through something so invasive. But damn, I look like a man, and there are no if, and, or buts about it. She is a kind soul, and one of my closest friends, but in that light, well – it was hard for me, and still is. I just want my closest friends to understand that a lot of these surgeries that people deem elective are not elective at all. They are life-affirming and life saving!!

The more I write, the more I think. I think it is time to stop writing. Sorry, dear readers of the page. I’ll write more soon.

p.s. I haven’t forgotten about electrolysis. I am choosing, actively, not to write about it at the moment.

Quick Pronoun Update: SHE/HER TIME

Three times in one day, huh?  Well, damn! Anyway, let’s talk pronouns.  So now, Friends, most of the first wave has been told. It has been a while.  Let’s start trying to orient our minds to Sofia she/her or they/them for names and pronouns.  A little game that helps me is that every time you think of me or come across my name, picture me in your mind. Associate, in your mind, me with Sophia. Then, do it in a live action sequence.  I promise I won’t make a big deal of it on the spot, but inside, I’ll probably squee a little.  Then back to normal life, hahahaha.

It will be hardest for you all, my Friends, to think of me as Sofia, and that sucks for y’all(It has taken SO five.5 years to get them right, and she is not consistent(sorry, love)).  But she is trying, and that’s what matters, atm. I’m sorry for that. But hopefully you all can find a way to associate old boy name with new girl name.  Wow, this must be much harder for Cis peeps to understand.  I’m thinking about it now, and it is tricky terrain. But you all know that I am trans, and that I am transitioning. There will come a time where it will be essential for you all to use the correct name/pronouns. I hope that we all make it out of this together…

And on that note, lol…BYE!!!

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