I decided to read excerpts of Persistence, that butch-femme anthology edited by Ivan Coyote and someone else.
I am just really grumpy about the lack of non-binary representation right now. I don’t feel like I fit in that book, not that I really want to.
I think I just feel like I am traveling very far away from everything familiar. It’s lonely.
I was reading Gender Outlaws the other day and reading this bit by a trans guy talking about how he can be this mediator and shift his speech style with the men and women in his office, and it was so weird to read. By the end, I’d…
My partner has to remind me that “TRANSSEXUAL” is not stamped on my forehead and that most cis folks probably read me as cis (and trans folks too maybe).
After being ambiguous for my whole life, it is really weird, almost scary, to be read as cis, as *normal*, to be coded as male 100% of the time.
I’ve been struggling with this the whole time I have been and am on T. I don’t know what to do about it! I am just so used to the question, “Are you a boy or a girl?” that whenever someone stares at me for more than a few questions, I automatically think that they are questioning my gender. Then I end up double-checking my gender presentation.
It’s frustrating. I don’t know what I want. Maybe I miss it? Do I? I rarely come out compared to the past year or two. Granted, I am also not writing a column about gender anymore…
My increase in gender dysphoria lately is welcome to leave, thanks.
I am writing an essay about gender and it’s really difficult & draining. Can y’all please send me nice things, mythic poems, or cute animal photos to cheer me up?
Or hilarious Harry Potter images, those are good too. Like silly & good slashfic. Idk.
Albus Dumbledore taught me that fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself.
That being said…
TRANSSEXUAL TRANSSEXUAL TRANSSEXUAL TRANSSEXUAL TRANSSEXUAL
I am a transsexual. I am also genderfluid*. It keeps life interesting.
Transsexual is a helpful word to articulate that I have taken medical steps to transition from one place to another. I have been diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder. I continue to use the word transsexual despite recent online kerfuffles about it because it accurately conveys to cisgender people what I have done with my body and what I continue to pursue.
To me, transsexual implies movement. Physical change. Transgender feels… too big. For me, it’s too much an umbrella. I need transsexual for it’s specificity. If I tell someone that I am transgender, they might ask, “Well what does that mean to you?” which is totally a fun question. If I say that I am transsexual, I will probably get rude questions about my genitals but at least we have a more solid jumping off point for me to investigate what the fuck this person knows about trans*-land.
Identity labels exist for the specificity of the nature of a person. (‘Cause being trans* is totally natural y’all. And it’s a choice. It’s also a religion, a lifestyle, and an inclusive fuckin’ party where the food is for vegans and omnivores.)
Basically, I am fed up with people asking me about my gender because I have gotten too many rude questions. I like the word transsexual. You may not. We have different opinions about identity politics. We can still respect one another and communicate with tender openness.
*Genderfluid is a nifty word to use to describe the dynamic nature of my gender. My gender is not static. My presentation shifts. My pronoun comfort shifts. Etc.
Anonymous asked: Last night I had a dream in which I was running on a Hogwarts corridor (probably late for a lesson) and this Gryffindor girl was clearly checking me out and she pointed her wand at me and I just felt her looking up how I identified with some sort of a spell and I gave her permission to know it while still running full speed.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yall are having queer hc dreams now this is awesome
A tough Wyoming cowboy who just happens to like blouses
Sissy Goodwin isn’t gay; he’s been married for 45 years and has two adult children. As a young man, he was a rodeo cowboy who rode bulls bareback, a free spirit who never shied away from a fistfight. The former aircraft mechanic loves to drink beer, play golf, throw steaks on the grill.
What sets him apart, he says, is what he calls gender independence: He just likes to do most things in a dress.
A resilient guy living it out in Wyoming, a state he refers to as “the Mississippi of the West” for its disposition toward him, Goodwin has been beaten, arrested and glared at for years - but he continues his defiant dressing habits to this day.
Photos: Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times
This weekend, do you.
and never stop.
"i am a thousand different characters telling a thousand different versions of the same/different story.
names mean everything. and nothing. sometimes names are the only thing that remind me who i am/supposed to be. remind me that e has no place at work, is still finding that place.”
yes. I have definitely told many stories of myself too. I think I need to spend time very soon re-writing them again (and again).
I have had many moments of “names are nothing!” and it is a relief to see another trans* people write the same thing. but names are also everything, which is important to acknowledge and honour with love and respect forever.
I was looking in an old journal yesterday and found a page where I had written a paragraph of my name. oliveroliveroliver
sometimes I think I will never find a place in this world. which is interesting because I definitely have had many moments of home and safety. yet something still does not feel quite right. maybe I need to move out to find what I need?
and if I don’t find a place in this world, that’s okay. I’ll manage somehow. I’ll be a handsome poet who tours around the continents, offering stories to whoever will listen.
I think it is important to romanticize your own life because not many people will do it for you, if ever. Especially as a queer or trans* person.
‘explore your gender’ is such a good phrase. go on a quest across the lands of gender. fight off evil dysphoria dragons who lurk in dark forests. save a beautiful prince/princess/princex who calls you their hero. and then discover your true gender before returning from your travels with stacks of gold and the heads of all the rude cisboys who dared cross you on your adventure.
navigating my gender and sex presentation feels like this never-ending balancing act of body parts and cloth and accessories, each of which is embedded with gendered and sexed meanings that are subjective and arbitrary and impossible to pin down. And amidst all of that I’m just trying to find ways…