It has been a long time. Transformation is like that, and while I wanted to document my own transformation as I navigated my new path…well, let’s say that putting my fingers to the keys seemed impossible. Continue reading Stutter Steps
It all starts with one step. One realization that everything you have been told about who you are as a person is wrong. That the reason you stare yourself down in the mirror isn’t for vain pleasure, but because it is the only way you can look yourself in the eye and figure out what is wrong with the person staring back. For something is wrong with that person. There is a deep sadness behind smiling grey eyes. The upturned smirk is sardonic at best; tired and listless and forced. The person in the mirror is a stranger; they don’t look like the person you see in your mind. The person who you struggle to be in a world unforgiving to those who don’t hold the sanctity of the status quo. A body that was built in nature but forced and remolded out of what it was always meant to be, and there you are, trying to break the mold placed upon you.
Continue reading A New Step
Compassion, patience, time, consideration, understanding. These concessions…no concession isn’t the right word, but at the same time it is, have been asked of me over the last few months as those around me “come to terms” with my revelation regarding my gender identity. I have been talked to, talked at, talked around, ridiculed, mocked, and then asked not to take it personally because it wasn’t meant in cruelty. I’ve been told that I’m loved, but who I am can’t be accepted because it’s too hard for the other person to work through, and I’ve been flat-out ignored. I’ve been smiled at when purposefully challenged and I didn’t have the energy to fight back. I’ve been snapped at for correcting my name and pronoun, and have had my tone misunderstood. I’ve heard the panic in voices that quickly correct what they said only to not listen when I offer comfort. Continue reading I Don’t Owe You Kindness; I Give It Anyway
It is not a secret that I take immense pleasure when I am addressed/referred to as anything but female; it’s almost juvenile. I love being called sir, dude, etc because woman/female doesn’t fit. Although being male doesn’t fit either, having spent 30 years being labeled in the wrong term, any reference outside of said label is liberating. It’s exciting. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve been told I am. It’s outside of the identity I was told to have.
Still…as I begrudgingly admit, being referenced as male is incorrect, despite my somewhat childish glee from it.
Continue reading You’re a Pretty Man