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.
Continue reading 'I was a boy, I was a girl'»
I hesitate to write this post when things are actually going pretty well, but feel like I need to if I want to work through some of it…
When I started transitioning I knew it would be hard work. Hard physical work, like the excruciatingly painful and horribly expensive hair removal, and hard emotional work, like changing how I interact with friends and loved ones.
What I didn’t really think about were all the little ways in which it would wear me down.
Things like having people I barely know feel that they then get to make assumptions and judgments about me (not even necessarily negative ones!) because they know I’m trans. Like Jack, whose brother and brother’s wife were both trans, so even though I just met him he felt completely comfortable asking me how long I’ve been on hormones. And, damn me for not thinking ahead, I told him instead of giving a noncommittal answer to indicate it was none of his business. An answer like “trans people go on hormones for the rest of their life” or “none of your bloody business, person-I-just-met.”
Continue reading 'Sometimes it’s exhausting'»
emotion, gender, humor, the workshop, trans, transitioning
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boy, children, exhaustion, girl, hormones, humor, roommates, trans, transitioning
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