Journal Excerpts - Thoughts on Transitioning

by Ren Yi

 

·       I can’t sleep. I’m thinking about gender. Again. And that it’s really not fair that I have to wear a stupid ugly frilly trendy skirt to be considered “dressed up,” and I have to “dress up” if I ever want to get hired for any real job. Then there’s guys, who can just put on a tie and be done with it. Why can’t I?  It’s not fair and it pisses me off. I’m mad because I can’t live the life that I want to. I can’t be myself without always having to worry and fight, and every day that I dress “neutrally,” I feel bad that I can’t just be “normal,” and that people are not going to take me as seriously because I’m not in “femme drag.” I wish this was a society where I didn’t have to even think about this. No one should have to.  

 

·       I wonder if I was set this way at birth, or if this is just how things developed. I mean, if I looked like a supermodel and had guys falling all over me, would I be attracted to them? But I know I’ve been “different” my whole life. This topic obviously has no answer. Sometimes, though I wish I could just be “normal.” Go to big beer parties on weekends and go out with some football player. I don’t know…I guess I wouldn’t want the picket fence and 2.5 kids thing. Even if it was with a good guy. What can I say—I just really like girls. I can’t really even imagine any other scenario. 

 

·        So it’s friggin Christmas Eve. I think I’m expected to go to church in about 2 hours. I don’t know. I really don’t want to go…At the moment I’m associating Christianity with Father Martin’s “morality” talk at that messed up retreat I had to go to where he said “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,” as proof that God doesn't like gayness. Homophobic jerk. I wish I knew enough then to just walk out when he said that. I think I actually laughed along with all the other good little heterosexual boys and girls. Manipulative brainwashers. But anyway, I know if I don’t go to church--their church--everyone will be mad at me. Is this worth fighting? You know, I’m realizing that sometimes I’m not all that fond of “The Holiday Season.” No, I’m not. Can you tell? Once you stop believing in Santa Claus it all stats going downhill from there.

 

 ·        I remember the first day of kindergarten…I was wearing this purple dress that my mother made for me with white tights and flower barrettes in my hair…and despite the costume, this girl asked me, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I kind of liked that. I think my mom was more bewildered than I was.

 

·        When I was in junior high getting made fun of all the time because I always wore ugly flannel shirts (buttoned to the top) or black tee shirts and jeans instead of something trendy and pastel and tight-fitting, my mom showed up in my room one afternoon with a plastic bag of makeup. “I bought you some makeup for you to 'experiment' with,” she said. She looked pleased to be creating this precious mother-daughter moment. When she left I threw the bag against the wall in a burst of rage and thought about being dead. 

 

·        I’ve been brooding about sexual orientation issues again and I’m thinking that maybe the major reason why it feels weird to identify as a lesbian is because, simply, I DON’T FEEL LIKE A GIRL! And maybe that’s the real issue that needs to be looked at anyway. If you look back on my entire life, it’s like the epitome of “transgenderedness.” Wanting to be a boy forever…even telling people that, until I got in trouble for it. Hanging out with boys when I was little. Despising all girly stuff. Wanting to grow up and be a guy…always identifying as a boy in stories I wrote and “let’s pretend” games and drawing pictures, etc. There was never a girl there. Even now, I don’t identify as female…I really never have. At that “drag ball” I went to, when I was in a shirt and tie, I felt like such a stud! hahaha…I felt like I could be MYSELF for the first time ever. When I get my hair cut short, I feel COOL for a little while. And honestly, when I’m wearing my “boy clothes” I feel a lot better than wearing girl crap or even androgynous stuff, which is most of my wardrobe. Sometimes I wonder if I’m one of those XXY females or if I was born intersexed and someone picked female. And they definitely picked wrong—that’s for sure.  

 

·        I finally figured out why it’s so hard to deal with the lesbian label. The problem is not admitting that I like girls—the problem with the “lesbian” term is admitting that I’m a woman. And it makes me shudder to even write that. Now I know that it’s obvious to most everyone that I’m female, but I don’t feel that way—I never agreed to these terms! And saying, “yeah, I’m a lesbian” presupposes that the person talking is a woman. Which I’m just not. THAT is the issue. THAT is what I find so offensive about adopting that label as a description of myself. 

 

·        I don’t think I’d ever transition and get on testosterone and all that…it would probably be too traumatic for everyone that knows me, and seriously, it would be really weird to be heterosexual. Just your average guy…I don’t know if I could get used to that. But I hate this “lesbian” label…it’s just not who I am. I’m a guy who happens to be female.  

 

·        I spent a good part of the day today looking at FTM webpages. I seriously wonder if I could even go through with transitioning. The more I think about it, though, the more plausible it seems. Everything would be so much more simple if the outside matched the inside. And wow, I would LOVE to have a normal guy chest! I can’t even imagine how cool that would be. I guess I’ve always wanted that, though. Breasts are absolutely awful. I friggin hate them…well, on me—not necessarily on other people! hehehe… 

 

·        What would life be like if I went through with this? I would actually be myself. I can just imagine that…I’d be so confident all the time…It almost makes me cry to even think about how great that would be. But how does one get the guts to do something like that?! And have your entire family and most of your friends consider you a freak? And risk being an outcast from just about the entire world? It’s such a hard decision…I really wonder how anyone can do it and come out the other end ok. It just seems so impossible. 

 

·        Why was I born like this? Flawed. I’m a freak. This is why I can’t talk to anyone about this…it’s just too weird…who could possibly understand? Who could possibly understand this?! 

 

·        So let’s talk about names again. I’m at another baby names website…let’s see what’s interesting. All right—I’ll do all the possible choices, even though I’ve already listed them about a million times before. Here goes: Joshua, Austin, Andrew, Alexander, Luke, Max…hmmm, I guess that’s not too many possibilities. There’s some others that I like, names like Dustin, Zach, Nick, Ian, and Caleb, but they don’t really fit me. Max probably sounds a little too much like a puppy. Joshua…Andrew…Luke…Alex…hmmm…Ok, so my two finalists are Alex and Luke. But then Josh is nice too…And Zach, but I hate Zachary…hmmm…What about Luke? But I already asked that. Call me Ishmael?.  

 

·        How do you tell your parents, “Oh, by the way, I’m transgender.” It seems so simple…how could anyone be offended? Easy, right? Reactions: “Transitioning means you hate yourself so much that you would change what you ARE!” (I’m just being myself, Mom. I’m not changing the person I’ve always been. I’ll just be in more “self-congruence,” so to speak.) “Does this mean you’re getting a sex change?” (Well…depends on what you mean by that.) “Women can live however they want and they don’t have to fit old-fashioned stereotypes, so why can’t you just be a normal woman who occasionally wears men’s clothes?” (It’s not about the clothes, Mom.) “It’s your responsibility to pave the way for future generations by living as a ‘nontraditional’ woman—trying to become a man would just avoid that responsibility.” (And that responsibility came from where? I have no problem with strong, assertive, “nontraditional” women—I’m just not one of them!) “Is this so that you can date women and still be heterosexual?” (Um, no.) “You need to be happy with what you’re born with!” (I AM happy—I’m finally accepting myself! You’re the one not happy!) “This is the same thing as believing that if you had more money or a new car or a new partner you’d be happier, but once you get those things, there’s always just something else!” (Whatever.) “What made you this way?” (Oh, I’d guess it’s just a simple variation in the development of the bed nucleus of my stria terminalis...How should I know?) “Transsexuals are depressed/confused/disturbed/insane, and they don’t know what they’re doing. They think transitioning will make them happier, but it obviously won’t.” (Um, I don’t even know what to say to that…) “Even if you have surgery you’ll never be a real man. You’ll just be a woman without breasts! You’ll always be a woman.” (Ouch.) “Transsexuals will never be accepted by society and they’ll never find long term partners!” (Well, I hope that’s not true, but—) “Sometimes when women don’t have success finding boyfriends they think that they might be gay—” (Ok, and now it’s time to end the conversation.) 

 

·         I remember one of the first times that it really dawned on me that I was expected to be female. I mean, I always knew, but for most of my pre-teenage existence, it was fine to exist in a tomboyish bliss without much outside interference. When I was around 13, a bunch of my Jewish friends were having Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, and my mom took me to buy a dress to wear to the temple. I remember she was mad at me because I was being really difficult in picking something out. Finally, she chose a bunch of things to try and forced me into the changing room. When I saw myself in the mirror, I saw an average-looking young woman looking back at me. I started to cry and had no idea why I didn’t want to exist. 

 

·        The possibility of really transitioning is starting to seem more and more real. I think if someone asked me, “What was the best year of your life?” I’d have to say that the best year is this year. And I honestly believe that the best is yet to come. For the first time in my life, I’m starting to be optimistic about the future. I’m finally doing what I need to do. I can actually imagine living past age 21! And I’m starting to realize (little by little) that other people’s opinions really don’t mean a thing when it comes to my life. There are plenty of tolerant people out there—I really don’t have time for anyone who’s going to f*** with me.  

 

·        So today I went to the Augusta Walmart to buy soda and the greeter guy said, “Hi, young fella!” I was so smiley after that. 

 

·        I feel like I can’t live as a woman for a moment longer. It feels awful just to write the word “woman” and have it mean something connected with me. It seems like I’m going to have to wait forever. I don’t know what to do. I’m just so, so sick of pretending to be something I’m not. 

 

·        There’s so much stuff I need to figure out about starting testosterone. Like, are there still cancer risks if I have all my reproductive stuff yanked? And once you get all the male characteristics that you’re going to get, can you switch to a really low dose to avoid getting bald and growing gross back hair and stuff? But if you stop, you still keep the low voice, right? Would stopping make a huge difference in how you feel/look if you’ve been on T for awhile? There’s just so much I need to know… 

 

·        Once I get the name change, which box do I check off, the M or the F? Would I be “deceiving” people by checking M since I haven’t had surgery yet? What is a pre-op, pre-hormones transsexual supposed to do? What situations should I be ready for where people are going to see my ID and my birth sex = F? Will I get hassled that my gender presentation doesn’t match what’s on my ID? Will people “read” me as male? 

 

·        I wonder what will happen when I start transitioning. I seriously doubt my family will be able to handle it. I worry that as soon as I graduate, I’ll essentially be broke and homeless. I just hope they let me store my stuff at home while I’m looking for a job. I guess I’ll see if they want anything to do with me after this. I’m a little scared that they might not even want me after I change my name. It’s funny how the hardest people to deal with are the ones you call family. Three more months until I’m out on my own. It will all work out somehow. 

 

·        [New name]…I love that name. Why is it so hard to attach it to myself? Why do I hesitate when someone calls me that? I like it, but I don’t want to completely let go of my old name. Even though I always hated it. Isn’t that weird? I don’t understand it myself. Who is this [New name]? Is [New name] the person the same as ----- the person? Why is ----- so much easier to write? Is it only from 20 years of practice? Will [New name] be just as natural when I’m 40? Or is it something else? Sometimes I wonder if I know what I’m doing. I want to be [New name], so why can’t I just BE?! 

 

·        After I crossed the state border heading home, I stopped at a McDonalds to get something to eat. I was going to go to the bathroom, too, but as I walked in I remembered that I can’t really use public restrooms anymore. Damn those single-sex bathrooms! But I wasn’t too far from home, so I figured I’d just wait. There was this group of high school-aged boys sitting by the door as I walked in. I’m starting to realize at this point that teenage boys are trouble. Ever since that guy tried to run me down with his bike, yelling “fag!” I’ve been a little nervous around high school boys, especially when they’re in groups. Anyway, as I was leaving, one guy says really loudly, “Definitely!” as in “It’s definitely a guy/girl!” and they all started laughing as I passed them. I didn’t even make eye contact, so hopefully they didn’t get any satisfaction out of it. But still, stuff like that really bothers me. Still. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, after all the comments I get, but I’m not. I know I shouldn’t care. I mean, I don’t know those kids and I’ll never see them again. But I do. 

 

·        My mom's obviously trying to be nice to me in this sort of sad, disappointed way, and it makes me feel so bad. And I understand that I'm probably just falling into the poor, pathetic victim role, and should just pull it together, but how do you do that when you're a disappointment to your family? Is it right to do something for yourself if it's going to hurt everyone around you? I mean, if I was in jail it would be easier for my parents to explain the situation to their friends than if I actually transition. And I was thinking, people say you shouldn't commit suicide because it'll affect everyone you know and it's ultimately this selfish act, etc. But isn't what I'm doing pretty similar—"killing" off the image that everyone thought I was? And at least if I were actually not around, people could be sad for a while and remember the good stuff, but instead I'm just this constant reminder that I didn't turn out "right," and my mom will always have to explain to people who knew me from before that her kid is a transsexual freak. I feel awful for doing that to her. I feel so conflicted.   

 

·        When I was little, I was always a boy in “let’s pretend” games. For example, my friends and I would often become characters from “Little House on the Prairie.” I would always be Willie, the store owner’s son. Never Laura, or one of the other main characters…always Willie. And—even though I dreaded playing “house” and usually refused to play when my friends demanded it—I was always either the father, or, more likely, the troublesome son. Later on, in high school, some teacher told me that I had done a very convincing job writing a story in the first person from a boy’s perspective. I was sort of insulted. Well, of COURSE it’s convincing, what do you expect?! Why am I thinking all this? I guess sometimes I feel like I need to “prove” that I’m really trans, as if my feelings aren’t enough. 

 

·        Today I had my eye exam. The doctor bursts in and says, “Hey, guy!” So I said, “Hey!” And then he looks at my chart and said, “Your name’s -----?” I said yes. He says, “Oh, then I guess I should have said ‘ma’am.’ I said “either works.” He was less friendly after that. I felt like an idiot. 

 

·        I have this little conversation playing on repeat in my head: “I probably could be ‘normal’ if I really wanted to.” “But I don’t want to!” “Well, you should want to!” Sometimes it seems like I’m supposed to take this whole transition thing in stride, and look 100% confident about this so that everyone else knows I’m serious and I’m not making a mistake. I don’t know who wrote that rule, though. I mean, this is a big deal…can anyone be 100% sure when they’re doing something to change their whole life? 

 

·        I had to get a haircut, and feeling in a "healthy-risk" mode, I went to see Roger the barber.  Have you ever been in a barber's shop?  The whole atmosphere is so different!  For example, instead of lots of books of strange funky haircuts that no one in their right mind would get, and magazines with articles about how to lose 70 pounds in 1 week by eating only chocolate cake or how to "please your man" (I'm serious--it seems like the cover of every woman's magazine advertises advice on how to do this!), I got to read "Rolling Stone" as I waited, and listen to the barber and this other guy who looked like Einstein (until all his hair got cut off) talk about the pros and cons of different trailor trucks!  No joke. (The ones with fifth wheels are not as good, apparently. Keep that in mind.) So then it was my turn, and I'm scientifically explaining that I want the back and sides really short, but not TOO too short, and the top a little longer than that, but not REALLY long, and whipped out a picture for demonstration, and he's giving me the classic "what are you" look.  So I just assumed he thought I was female, since my voice pretty much gives me away (yuck). But then as he was chopping everything off, he was joking around with me and did this slap-on-the-shoulder thing, which, I'm learning, is definitely a guy move.  (Women don't get these shoulder slaps--it's very sad.) And he asked who the guy in the picture was...it was actually a picture of another transguy from a webpage I saw recently...so I said, "Um...my friend?" And he asked, "Well, where does HE get his hair cut?!" And I said I didn't know.  And Roger the barber retorts, "I bet he goes to a BEAUTICIAN and pays 14 bucks!" And I gasped in disgusted agreement that I couldn't understand why someone would actually pay $14 for a haircut. So then, after he finished (and commented that he bets "my friend" doesn't have the back done "as well as THAT!") he called me "young man" a bunch of times.  It was so great! And you can’t beat a $7 haircut! 

 

·        I wish there was someone who could tell me, “Yes, you’ll be much better off living as a man…go do all the sex reassignment crap right away and you’ll never have any regrets, guaranteed!” It would be nice if there was a blood test or something that could determine all this. “Yes, you definitely have a male brain—what are you waiting for?!” Sometimes I can’t wait to transition. And sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. And my feelings change minute by minute. How will all this turn out years from now? Guess I can only wait and see.

 

Note from five years later: It turned out well. Very well.





(c)Maine Transgender Network, Inc., 2009

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