Yes and no. The important things have not changed. I still find the same things funny, the same things sad, my politics haven’t changed, my taste in music hasn’t changed, and so on. At the same time, I think being more emotional – presumably a combination of hormones and being more comfortable with myself in general – has let me be a little more open and  a little less closed off.

Specifically, I used to think of myself as someone who could do a great poker face. That is, if I didn’t want my emotions to show, they didn’t. But on Monday of this week, one of my coworkers asked if anything was wrong (I was, indeed, stressed). I asked it if was that obvious, and she replied, “Yeah, you kind of wear your heart on your sleeve.”

I ultimately think this change is a good thing, but it’s taking some getting used to. It’s difficult to think of yourself, and the image you project to the world, as one thing and realize it’s really something else.

• How do you feel about transgender persons getting married?  Do you want to get married?

I’m not totally sure what the first part of this question is asking. I think any two consenting adults of sound minds should be able to get married. Or, hell, more than two: I don’t think polyamory is for me, but I don’t see why I should tell others they can’t practice it. So I don’t think someone being trans, (or pre-, mid-, or post-transition) should have anything to do with it.

As to whether I want to get married… Yes, I think I do, eventually. Hopefully the right gal will sweep me off my feet.

• Can transwomen get breast cancer?

Yup! (And I prefer “trans woman” – see here for why.) Anyone can, even men. Unfortunately, there aren’t any really good studies or data indicating the risks for trans women, above and beyond the genetic and familial risks that any woman might have.

• Were there any side effects to the hormones?

Not that I’ve seen. There are things that could be considered negative – decreased muscle mass, changes in how I experience sex, etc – but I really don’t view ‘em that way.

I wanted to take an extra post, though, to more fully go over my thoughts on how the Internet can (negatively) affect communication. In this case, I mean ways my communication was handled poorly, not anyone else’s.

This is not the first time I’ve written about a situation where my initial response was one thing and, ultimately, the correct response would have been A) contacting the person directly and not via intentionally or (more often) unintentionally passive-aggressive online postings, and (ultimately more important) B) giving the other person the benefit of the doubt.

In most situations, that would allow everything to be cleared up much more amicably.

That isn’t to say the correct response is never to get up on a high horse. Sometimes people cross a line to an extreme where the only appropriate response is calling them on it in an extreme fashion. But I’d wager that should never – or, at least, very rarely – be the first response.

I’d like to think I’ve learned my lesson from this, but the Internet is seductive in that it lets you think, “Oh, the person I’m writing about will never read this!” Likewise, even if you’re directly writing to someone and you know they’ll read it, the Internet allows you to forget that the other person is actually a person, and not just the site/blog/etc you’re posting to. Internet escalations, in my experience, happen much faster than offline, simply because it’s so easy to say the first thing that comes to your mind, without reflecting on how it’ll be received by others.

At the very least, I’ll try harder to keep that in mind going forward.

And yet I’m sitting at my computer becuase I know the dully throbbing sadness I’m feeling now will pale in comparison to the aching grief I’ll feel when I lay down, as all the thoughts I’m currently pushing aside come rushing in.

-R

-Lyrics from ‘Castle on a Cloud’ from Les Miserables

Les Mis is some of the earliest music I learned on the piano that I still play regularly. In fact, come to think of it, I’ve probably been playing Les Mis (and using the same beat-up book of sheet music) for over ten years. And, although ‘Castle on a Cloud’ isn’t my favorite song from the musical, a place usually reserved for ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ or ‘On My Onw,’ I do think it’s an evocative metaphor.

That said, the verse I quoted above never sat right with me. I completely understand wanting to exist in a place where no one is lost, and where there is no need to cry. That makes perfect sense. But the idea of not being allowed to cry always made me kind of sad; sometimes the grief of living just needs to come out in tears.

I’ve been crying a lot more lately than I’m used to, and it’s made me think about how I handle my emotions.

I think it is untrue to say that trans people get to experience life as ‘both’ genders. As a trans woman, I didn’t experience ‘boyhood’ in same the way cisgendered men presumably did, in that I didn’t want to be a boy. Likewise, as a trans woman, I don’t experience ‘womanhood’ in the same cisgendered women presumably do, as I wasn’t raised and socialized as a girl.  I In fact, I think it’s somewhat untrue to say any two people will experience  gender in exacltly the same way.

That said, I do think trans individuals who go on hormones and transition are some of the very few people who get to have the unique experience of living life with both male and female hormones. (Or are forced/obligated/required to have the unique experience…) As far as I know, I did not have any (male) hormone imbalances, even though I wasn’t particularly happy with the amount of testosterone coursing through my system pre-transition. And now that I am on hormones, my doc tells me my levels are pretty standard for a so-called ‘biological’ woman.

Coming back to emotions, this has given me the opportunity to see the dramatic shift in how my emotions manifiest themselves pre- and mid-transition. As other trans women have said (and I’ve said something similar before) it’s not that what my emotions are has changed, it’s how I experience them that’s changed. That is, I don’t suddenly find different things happy or sad, but I feel that happiness or sadness more poigantly. So, it takes a lot less to make me cry now. I’m actually pretty OK with that, although sometimes (often…) it’s a little overwhelming. I’m less happy about my inability to keep a straight face, as I prided myself on being able to dead-pan jokes with the best of them, but maybe that’s something that will come back as I get used to the heights of my emotions.

I also don’t want to imply hormones are the sole cause of these emotional shifts. Transitioning has meant a lot of soul-searching, and that process has definitely (hopefully?) put me more in touch with my emotions outside of any hormonal shifts. But I do think there’s a physical/hormonal aspect as well. And, bringing it all the way home to Les Mis, I’m not particularly interested in living in a place where crying isn’t allowed.

I don’t feel like I’d last very long there.

-R

I saw my therapist earlier tonight, and actually came out feeling pretty good. “You seem calmer this week,” she said, and it’s true, overall.

But I still really miss her. I do believe what I’m doing is the right thing for me in the long run, but I love her, and I really miss her. And thinking about that, of course, made me sad in the missing.

And AR and I started talking, in the door between our rooms, about how I think about myself. She said she was proud of me, and I said something along the lines of, “Don’t be.” She pressed me, and I said I don’t feel like I’m proud-worthy; that being proud of is something for “other people” and I don’t think very highly of myself right now (if I ever have).

She said that’s obviously something I need to work on. That maybe I should make an effort to write down compliments people give me and keep a book, or post them on my wall, or solicit thoughts on myself from friends so I know that they think highly of me.

The idea of such an overwhelming amount of compliments literally had me on the floor, hiding with my hands over my head.

Obviously, that’s not a great way to think of myself:  so poorly that the mere idea of being complimented can drive me to tears.

And I’m not sure what to do about it.

-R

Anyway, I’ve been stressing: having trouble getting to sleep, feeling nervous and panic-y, all the stuff I was talking about in early December.

I realized one of the things that helped me then was listing all the stressors, so I figured I’d try that again now:

• Relationship/transitioning issues with G
• Feeling like I don’t have enough time for all the things in my life and for myself. ‘All the things in my life’ includes:
  • Monday: Therapy
  • Tuesday: Workshop rehearsal for the piece I’m directing (and now, conflicting, a weekly theatre thing with friends)
  • Wednesday: Trans youth group
  • Thursday: Workshop class I’m teaching (starts next week)
  • Friday: Blissfully nothing, and the stress of using downtime ‘well’
  • Saturday: A class I’m taking; more Workshop rehearsal
  • Sunday: Rehearsal for a friend’s recital piece that I don’t really want to do but am doing as a favor to her
  • (And, of course, a full-time job)
• Money, specifically paying off hair removal (3/4 of the way there, but I want it off my back)
• Buying a new wardrobe (partially linked to ‘money’; I have, like, six or seven tops that I can reasonably wear to work that I just keep cycling through)
• Feeling insecure in the transition (to be the subject of a longer post, one of these days)

Boo! Stress, stress, go away, and don’t come back another day!

-R

It’s no fun.

SS said I should take her therapist’s advice from a while ago and exercise lots while avoid sugar, booze, and caffiene, which is probably always good advice but does make particular sense in terms of having excess nervous energy.

But I just want this panic to go away!

-R

GENERAL LIGHTING - CHILDHOOD GAMES

When I was young – I must have been 6 or 7 – I remember playing ‘make believe’ with a friend, running around in the park behind my house.

I remember that, at some point in the make believe, I was captured by the bad guys -

- and transformed into a girl. My friend had to rescue me! But ‘rescuing’ me didn’t mean ‘transforming me back into a boy,’ just ‘freeing me from the bad guys.’ I didn’t really want to be transformed back into a boy. And I remember it being important (for some pre-pubescent, gender-affirming reason) for me to be naked on the bed in my room, my penis tucked between my legs in a hairless V.

I  remember looking up at the top bunk and thinking, “This is how I’d rather look, what I’d rather see between my legs.”

I told him not to tell his mom. I told him not to tell his mom. I told him not to tell! But he told anyway. And his mom told my mom. And we were told that that was not a good way to play and that being naked with each other was not OK.

But the part that was actually important – not the nudity but the gender – was never mentioned. I don’t even know if he told his mom about that part, or if she told my mom. But I feel like yelling at my mom, “The point wasn’t that I wanted to be naked! The point was that I didn’t want to be a boy!”

LIGHT CHANGE – MYTH PART ONE

Long ago, when gods and goddesses ruled from Olympus and occasionally came down to walk among mortals, all mothers knew that to give birth to a boy you needed to pray to Ares -

- god of war, of strength -

and to give birth to a girl you needed to pray to Aphrodite -

- goddess of love, of beauty.

But what happened when Ares and Aphrodite disagreed about the sex of an unborn child? Gods and goddesses were known to quarrel, and disagreements over a child’s sex were not as uncommon as you might think.

Such it was with one child who was chosen by Aphrodite to be a girl, to grow into a woman. But Ares was upset with Aphrodite for some perceived slight, and when Aphrodite left the unborn child Ares came and worked his magic. He could not change the unborn child – the unborn girl’s – soul, for Aphrodite had already made that female. But Ares could transform the unborn girl’s body, making by brute force male what was to be female.

And so the child was born, the soul of a girl – ready to be a girl – but within the body of a boy.

And what sort of life would she lead? Only time will tell…

LIGHT CHANGE – COMING OUT CAFE

Hey! It’s so good to see you.

Yeah, I’m so glad we could finally find a time to catch up. How have you been?

I’ve been doing really well, thanks. Actually, well, I sort of never know how to do this. I do want to hear how you’re doing, but part of the reason I wanted to talk to you is because I wanted to come out to you. See, I identify as trans, which means a lot of different things to different people, but for me means that I identify as a woman, not as a man. And I’m doing what’s called transitioning, which means I’m moving from presenting myself an interacting with the world as a man to doing so as a woman.

No, it’s OK. That’s usually the first question people ask. I’ve been on hormones for a while, and I’m fortunate that they’re actually covered by my insurance.

And that’s usually the second question… I mean, some trans women do that, as do some trans men. Though my understanding is trans women are more likely to be able to retain the ability to orgasm afterwards…But no, that sort of decision is still really far away for me.

Well, perhaps this will help explain things. Rachel, could we get lecture lights?

LIGHT CHANGE – GOING TO LECTURE MODE

C2 – SLIDE SHOW START

Lets get started.

C3 – HRT

Hormone replacement therapy (or HRT) for transgender and transsexual people replaces the hormones naturally ocuring in their bodies with those of the other sex.

C4 – HRT Image

Its purpose is to cause the development of secondary sex characteristics of the desired gender. For trans women this includes

C5 – Bullet points for MTF

The breast development and the redistribution of body fat
Reduction of muscle mass
Reduction of body hair
Softening of skin
And so on
‘And So On’ list, fade back to pills

Aside: It’s a little overwhelming.

Hormone replacement therapy cannot undo the changes produced by the first naturally occurring puberty of transgender people, including bone structure and genital development. Hormone replacement therapy is not magic and there are no guarantees as to the results for any one person. Likewise, hormone therapy and transitioning are not guaranteed to produce the ‘ideal picture of femininity’ -

C6 – HRT is not…

- but, you know what? Natural puberty in so-called ‘normal’ women isn’t guaranteed to produce the ideal picture of femininty either.

C7 – Puberty is not…

Now, are there any questions? Rachel, could we get the house lights up for the question-and-answer section?

LIGHT CHANGE – DARK EXCEPT FOR ME

C8 – Any questions

Perfect. Yes, in the back.

(Sigh) Well, just as not all ‘natural’ women grow up liking dolls and dresses, not all trans women do either. Next question.

(Some sort of reaction to the question) Again, just as not all ‘natural’ women like having sex with men, not all trans women do either. Likewise, not all trans men want to have sex with women. And transitioning, for myself and for everyone I’ve talked to and read about, was abut the trans person, not who they would be able to sleep with in a socially acceptable manner after the transition.

Final question. Yes?

(Another reaction to the question) I’m  not sure what you mean by a ‘real woman,’ but I would never doubt someone else’s journey or dismiss their identity because I didn’t understand it. So please don’t doubt or dismiss my journey or my identity or the work I’ve had to do

LIGHTS – DIAGONAL FOR PILLS

Just because you don’t understand it or because I don’t fit your definition of what it means to be a ‘real woman.’

LIGHTS – IT’S EXHAUSTING

When I started transitioning I knew it would be hard work. At least, I’d been told it would be hard work… Hard physical work, like the painful and horribly expensive hair removal, and hard emotional work, like seeing relationships with friends and loved ones change, and not always for the better.

What I didn’t really didn’t think about – and dont’ know I’d have believed if someone had told me – was all the little was it would wear me down.

Things like children and their lack of discretion. Like having one of my students ask why I’m wearing earrings, because “aren’t they for girls?” A friend later mentioned I should have said, “No, earrings are for ears, silly!” Or an audience member who came up to me after a show and asked, “Are you a boy, or a girl?” Or a student in the hall who whispered, “Is he a boy, or a girl?” Or a student in a classroom who, when I came in to give something to the teacher, gossiped, “Was that a boy or a girl?”

Things like strangers or people I just met making assumptions about me or feeling OK asking really personal questions because they know I’m trans. Like a friend of a friend, whose brother was trans, so he felt completely comfortable asking me probing questions about my transition even though we’d just met. And I didnt’ feel strong enough in my discomfort to tell him it was none of his business.

Things like friends and family and loved ones having issue with the pace of the transition.  Have you told so and so? What do you mean you haven’t told so and so? I can’t believe you’re thinking of telling so and so without talking to me first. It’s always too fast or to slow. Too intense or not intense enough. Too much thought or not enough planning. Never the right pace for them, the right speed for them.

Sometimes, it’s exhausting.

It’s exhausting putting one foot in front of the other. It’s exhausting having to be an and educator on behalf of myself. It’s exhausting having to keep my balance.

Sometimes, it’s exhausting.

LIGHTS – MYTH PART TWO

Long ago, when gods and goddesses ruled from Olympus and occasionally came down to walk among mortals, all mothers knew that to give birth to a boy you needed to pray to Ares -

- god of war, of strength -

and to give birth to a girl you needed to pray to Aphrodite -

- goddess of love, of beauty.

But what happened when Ares and Aphrodite disagreed about the sex of an unborn child? Gods and goddesses were known to quarrel, and disagreements over a child’s sex were not as uncommon as you might think.

Such it was with one child who was chosen by Aphrodite to be a girl, to grow into a woman. But Ares was upset with Aphrodite for some perceived slight, and when Aphrodite left the unborn child Ares came and worked his magic. He could not change the unborn child – the unborn girl’s – soul, for Aphrodite had already made that female. But Ares could transform the unborn girl’s body, making by brute force male what was to be female.

And so the child was born, the soul of a girl – ready to be a girl – but within the body of a boy.

And what sort of life would she lead?

He – or she – grew up knowing something was off, something was not quite right. But who could imagine a boy not being a boy? Or a girl not being a girl? So the child grew up with the pain of not fitting within his (or her) own body, and suffered mostly in silence.

At last, he decided to go to Olympus, the palace of the gods, and demand an audience with Ares. She would make Ares right what had been wronged, return her body to its rightful form as female.

So the child climbed up and up and up [repitition], until at last he came to Olympus. And the gods were so awed by her bravery, that they granted her an audience with smoldering and bitter Ares.

LIGHTS? – PUPPET SHOW

This is your fault.

You did this to me.

This is your fault!

You did this to me!

Aren’t you going to say anything?

I didn’t ask to be like this. I didn’t ask to be like this. Do you know what they call people like me? Freaks. Perverts. She-males. He-shes. Because of you, I fear that every glance is a knowing one. Because of you, I fear that every laugh is directed at me. Because of you, I fear that every pair of eyes will pierce me to my core and expose my innermost secrets.

Because of you!

Don’t walk away! Come back here!

LIGHTS? – ENERGY CHANGE

You know what? Fuck Ares.

Fuck the gods.

I don’t need a goddess who has been dust for 2,000 years to tell me how to be a woman, or a god who has been dust for 2,000 years tell me that I can’t.

I will walk my own path. I will find my own voice. I will map my own journey.

And I will write the ending to my own story.

LIGHTS OUT ON EXIT

The performance went really well – I feel like there was enough I know I can do better on tonight to have room for improvement, but I’m definitely happy with how it came out. And, likewise, excited to keep working with specific chunks of it as well as broader themes and issues it raised.

And a lot of people, including both my parents, came to see me, which was really great. Including a few people from the workshop, which really meant a lot – that’s been so core to my artistic development that having people whose opinion I really value say they liked the work was really moving.

I also was connected with the trans programing director (I’m probably getting that title wrong) from Toronto Pride who was, like, “I need your email address so we can talk about having you perform at the next Toronto Pride.”(!!!)

Which obviously meant I came home and gushed to G (we met up after her rehearsal got out) and then proceded to cry for a while…I think it came from having put so much of myself out there and having that sink in a bit, and just really not knowing how to handle praise. So it all sort of welled up in tears.

But tonight’s the last performance, and so then I can catch my breath (and, like, do laundry and go grocery shopping…) before I inevitably start working on stuff again!

-R

PS – I’ll post the script one of these days, when I get my head together…

I’ve realized over the last year (and posted some about it here) that I’m still pissed at my dad about the divorce, eight years later, but never actually talked to him about it or heard his side of the story. I’d pieced together a version of events from overheard conversations and my own impressions, but never actually asked him what happened.

So at dinner a week ago, I did.

Dinner was actually rather pleasant, and we caught up on work and life and such, and as things were winding down I said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship and I know it hasn’t been the strongest it might be. And I recently realized that, had someone been returning my calls at the rate I’ve been returning yours, the only conclusion I could take was that they’d been avoiding me. And we talked and have been talking about transitioning stuff, which has been really good, but I also realized I still have a lot of anger about the divorce and wanted to hear your version of what happened.”

That was really the only thing I said for the next half hour, other than reitterating that I wasn’t looking for anything specific from him, just to hear what he had to say. (Although I realize in retrospect what I was looking for him to say was, “Just kidding! Mom and I are back together.”)

He said that he felt awful and guilty about how much it’s hurt my mom, my brother and I. He said he felt it was the one selfish act he’s done while parenting. He said he was naive about how our relationships would  be and that, since my brother and I weren’t little kids, he thought we’d get past it. He said SO didn’t cause the divorce, which I think I believe (or at least believe that he believes). He don’t think he explicitly said he wished it hadn’t happened or that he could take it back, but said something along the lines of “If I knew how much pain it would cause I wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

So I’m trying to let that settle, and see what to do with it. I think, ultimately, it was the right thing to do – to talk about it – since even know I feel like, if he calls tomorrow, I have less of an inclination to avoid the call. Not because anything specific has changed, but just because I’ve been able to say “I’m pissed at you” and able to hear that he isn’t oblivious to how big the divorce was in my life.

-R

(There is a part of me that is frustrated that he was so appologetic, because I don’t know what to do with that. if he’d just been an ass, I could be angry at him and feel justified. I still think my anger is justified, but I can’t figure out how to express it since I want a relationship with him and being cold feels like kicking a dog or something, since he can’t/won’t defend himself. And I know that’s a good thing in the long run, just makes my feelings more complicated right now.)