I was a boy, I was a girl
I was a boy, growing up.
At least, people saw me that way: I had a boy’s name, boy’s clothing, wore swimming trunks to the pool or the beach, had a Bar Mitzvah (however grudgingly), changed in the boys’ locker room before gym, wore a suit and tie to important family occasions, participated in Indian Guides (however briefly), had my hair in a buzz cut every summer for years, played on the boys’ teams after school, lived in the boys’ section of the dorm at college, was never taught how to put on makeup…
Looking through old photo albums, or at the pictures on the walls at my parents’ houses, it’s clear – boy, boy, boy.
I wanted a girl’s name, girl’s clothing, a girl’s swimming suit, a Bat Mitzvah (well, maybe not), to change in the girls’ locker room before gym, to wear skirts and dresses to important family occasions, participate in Indian Princesses, wear my hair long and flowing, play on the girls’ teams after school, live in the girls’ section of the dorm at college, know how to put on makeup from a lifetime of experience …
I’m not sure how to reconcile these lists. To own up to my history outs me as trans and brings up a long stretch – the first twenty or so years of my life – that’s at odds with how I see myself now. When I talk with people about Judaism, about my struggling relationship with it, do I acknowledge my Bar Mitzvah and out myself as trans, or do I say I had a Bat Mitzvah and rewrite part of life? When a coworker talks about buying suits or ties, do I chime in with memories of my experiences, or do I stay silent?
Do I ask my parents to take down pictures of the first two decades of my life? To wipe clean my life before 22 or 23? To cover the mirrors which reflect the parts of myself I don’t want to remember, don’t want to see?
I want to catch up to the friends around me who can effortlessly apply eyeliner while rushing to get ready for a night out. Who can dress themselves with confidence that they won’t look like a fool.
I want to stop receiving mail (male) addressed to someone who no longer exists.
Themocracy
HUG
Well I wouldn’t offer to help you about not looking like a fool because I think the last two days I’ve dressed myself like I’m 40. We both need a stylist apparently. However, I am a pro at makeup (in fact I did everyone’s for prom) so I will gladly take you makeup shopping (I have expensive taste however) and show you the ropes any time you want. It’ll be my other birthday treat to you
It’s a date.
(And I need to add “went to prom in a suit and tie” to my list…womp womp.)
Quote: “I want to catch up to the friends around me who can effortlessly apply eyeliner while rushing to get ready for a night out. Who can dress themselves with confidence that they won’t look like a fool.”
Don’t feel bad about that, I’ve always been female, and at age 33, I still have no idea how to wear makeup (my skin has always been far too oily to even bother with it, minus some lip gloss), and I still dress like a fool with frizzy, flat hair. Oh well.
::Grin:: Thanks. I guess I always assume everyone else is more confident/competent than I am.
We should form some sort of club. The Shapeless Beige Hats?
I know I’m zeroing on a small part of a much larger post, but anyway:
I don’t want to seem to imply that this is no big deal, because it blows dead wharf rats to have to learn all this crap in a society that expects you to know it instinctively and considers you a failure at life and humanity if you don’t, but: I know only a few cis women who figured this stuff out as young women. Most of them seem to have gradually accumulated femmeish habits over the years.
I don’t know if this was true for you, but it was hard for me to extricate a sense of competence from a sense of…entitlement. I mean, it wasn’t so much an inability to buy an okay dress and put it on as an inability to accept that I was allowed to be in it.
That’s definitely true, and I can even see in some of the female friends that I’ve had since high school how their presentation has changed over the years as they’ve become more comfortable being feminine. Being honest, part of it is simply a feeling of ‘the grass is always greener,’ since it feels like all of these women totally have their shit together while I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’d wager lots of people (maybe even most people) feel that way about everyone else, that everyone around them is more confident/knowledgeable/ than they are.
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I think that’s part of it, too. Even when I’m with friends and/or know I look OK (that I’m passing) there’s definitely a feeling that I walk around with a giant sign saying “TRANS” or “MAN” over my head. (Which sign depends on which fears are at the forefront that day.)
And that’s kind of how I’ve defined transitioning for myself: I’ll be “done” transitioning when I don’t feel like I spend the majority of my time thinking about transitioning…
Hugs to you. You’re just a boy who grew up to be a woman. I think you celebrate and remember your boyhood, difficult as it may have been, and embrace your womanhood at the same time.
Thanks for the comment, Katie! And I think you’re right – I need to figure out how to take pride in who I was, while also really claiming who I am. Just easier said than done.