I'm Facebook official!

My existence is now 100% certified official on Facebook. Last week I finally changed my name and pronouns on there. And gosh does it ever feel good to be able to check Facebook and not have to see my old name all over everything. Yeah!

It was sort of on a whim, to be honest. I hadn't really planned ahead of time when I was going to take that step, and wrote probably the one of the worst "coming out" status ever. It went like so:

Alright, so I was I planning on waiting till I was a little further along in my transition to change my name on Facebook, but it's friggin bugging me seeing my old name on here all the time, so Ashley it is. For those that don't know, I've been using that name within the trans community for about two and half years now, and in my day-to-day life for just over four months. So yeah... I'd really appreciate it if you could try to refer to me by that name instead of Tyler. Thanks! :)

Oh yeah, and PS: I'm trans, for anyone who hasn't figured that out yet.: P

Heh, pretty terrible. The thing is, I wasn't even thinking of it as a coming out. I had long since largely stopped caring about the distinction between out and not on Facebook. And by this point I felt like everyone to whom I actually "owed" a proper coming out had already gotten one. (And perhaps I was mildly resentful of the fact that I'd felt like I owed that to anyone in the first place.) So I saw this less as letting people know that I'm trans and more as just explaining why my profile suddenly had a different name. And, you know, so that the next time I came up on someone's feed they wouldn't be like: who the heck is Ashley??

Of course I got lots of "likes" and supportive comments. My paternal grandmother left a comment saying "whether you are Tyler or Ashley, trans or otherwise you are our grandchild and we love you." Awww. ♥

I also got a bunch of questions in my inbox. Most of them were good or at least reasonable. For example, one of my aunts asked me if I had any advice on how she should explain it to her children, or if there was anything specifically that I wanted her to say or to not say, which is like the best freaking question ever seriously I wish everybody asked questions like that. I also got one kind of weird question from someone who was wondering if I was still a Christian and if so, how I reconciled my "transgender existence" (his actual words) with the bible. (If you're new to this blog, I have a dark mysterious past as a conservative Christian, but left the faith several years ago and now identify as a non-theist or atheist.) So I told him that I wasn't a believer anymore, but also pointed out that the bible doesn't really talk much about trans stuff anyways. He also asked what it was like growing up trans in the church and I gave kind of long-winded reply about how it actually totally sucked and how much better it could have been if I'd been raised in a church that was queer\trans-affirming.

Of course I'd been intending to eventually change my name for some time, but what finally pushed me over the edge and got me to do it was, of all things, wanting to add a new friend who's only ever known me as Ashley. Remember my previous post when I said I might have a date with a girl I met on the internets? Well, she and I still haven't gotten a chance to hang out yet for various reasons— she had family visiting, I was busy, she was sick— but we've been texting for a while now. I went and found her on Facebook, but felt super weird about sending a friend request from my old name. Hence my new-found motivation. (Afterwards she was like "aww you could've just added me before, I wouldn't have cared...")

Anyways, we're planning on getting together this weekend, so hopefully that works out. Oh, and I should mention that, of all the bizarre things, we discovered that we have the same birthday— how weird is that?! So now we're already planning on having a joint birthday party, even though it's not till February. :D

It seems I'm going about transition in totally the "wrong" order, at least according to the traditional trans narrative. I'm now fully out (except at work) and I haven't even started HRT yet. Sometimes I can't help but feel that people are going to expect me to start looking "more female" soon, when in reality that's probably still a fair ways off. But whatever. Obviously there's no right or wrong way to be trans— doing it this way works for me, and that's good enough. :)

Coming out more (and female Tylers?)

Good news! I came out to a bunch of folks on Facebook recently, and it went very well. (Well actually, this happened like three weeks ago, I'm just really slow at blogging stuff apparently). I'm now out to most of the people I'd be likely to see on a typical day, except for at work. I'm also out to most of the friends I really care about. I wrote the following status update, changing the privacy settings so that only the ones I wanted to come out to could see it:

Hi friends! Okay, first of all, only a few people can see this post. Some of you I've specifically talked to about this, while others of you I'm not sure how much you may know or have guessed. But regardless, I wanted to put this out there so that we're all on the same page, and more importantly because I want you all to know me as the person I actually am. :)

So yeah, I'm transsexual. The very short description of what that means is that I'm actually a girl on the inside. I'm guessing that's probably not a huge surprise for most of you, but if it is, well, there you go. :P Anyways, I've started the process of changing my body to better match who I am. So far that just means getting electrolysis for my facial hair, but I do hope to be on female hormones some time in the not-too-distant future, and eventually living full time as a woman.

In the meantime I do intend to start presenting myself as female more often than I have been, simply because I find it profoundly distressing pretending to be a boy all the time. In light of that I do have a request to make from all of you. Within the transgender community I've been going by the name Ashley for the past couple years now, and it seems to have stuck. So, when I'm in girl mode, if you could try to call me by that name instead of my boy name, it would be seriously deeply appreciated. Likewise if you could use feminine pronouns (ie, "she" and "her") to refer to me instead of masculine ones, that'd really be super. (When I'm in boy mode you can use my old name and pronouns if you prefer, I don't really care that much).

Now, I know it's pretty weird to just change which name and pronouns you use for someone, so please take whatever time you need to get comfortable with it, and don't worry if you screw it up. If you're ever not sure what to say, just ask, I promise I won't be offended or anything.

And please, if you have any questions about trans stuff in general or about my own experience with it, feel free to ask. I know sometimes people have trouble understanding this stuff (even I did, and I've had to live with it my whole life), so I'm definitely willing to explain things in more detail if it'll help.

Making a transition of this sort is kind of a big deal in some ways, so I hope I can count on you all for support. :)
Peace

And the response has been very positive. One guy sent me a message saying he was checking to see if I could have kept my old name when he found this. It's the Urban Dictionary entry for Female Tyler, as in, a girl named Tyler. "Female Tylers are very rare and if you come across one you are a very lucky person," it reads. That and apparently they're also "extremely skilled in the sheets and so wild they'll make your head spin." Ha! That gave me a pretty good laugh. And to be honest, It actually made me feel a little better about my birth name. I've never liked the name Tyler, even before I knew I was trans. But just knowing that someone out there thinks it's a "cool" name for a girl, somehow that kinda helps. (I'm definitely still sticking with Ashley, though. My old name represents too much for me to not change it.)

Of course I also got all the more usual responses of "I'm so happy for you" and "I'm so proud of you" and "you're so brave," all of which were certainly appreciated. I do feel a liiiitle weird being called brave because I don't really think bravery is what drives someone to transition— often it's more like suicide prevention— but I think I knew what she was trying to get at so I accepted the compliment.

One friend commented on the post asking if she could call me Ash and I just about died with elation. A nickname based on my girl name? That's like the best thing ever!!! ^-^ It took a great deal of effort to respond with a calm "Yeah for sure! :)" instead of "Oh my gosh yes please call me that!! :D"

The best parts of all this are that I'm now getting to hear my real name outside of the internet, and that even when I'm presenting as a male there are a bunch of people who know that's not who I really am. Together that makes all the gender issues so much easier to deal with. I feel like, overall, I've been doing pretty good lately, but that doesn't mean the dysphoria isn't still an issue. Last Thursday I felt totally kicked in the gut by it and ended up spending basically the entire evening just lying in bed watching transition slideshow videos on Youtube. That was instead of going out to an event with friends, one of whom I haven't seen in a long time. So that was pretty shitty.

But that just means I need to keep moving forward. So let's see... I've been getting electrolysis for almost four months now, I'm currently in the process of socially transitioning... what's next? It's time to start thinking about hormones. It's time to talk to a doctor and get this girl some estradiol.

Pride!!

Guess who attended the Pride parade with her friends last Saturday? Me!

And I mean the actual me, not the boy I pretend to be sometimes. That's kind of a big deal: this was the first time I've gone out and done something fun with my friends while presenting myself as a woman.

I had been quite certain for some time before that I was going to this thing and that I was going as myself. Of all places, being at Pride in the wrong gender would be absolutely heartbreaking. I just wasn't sure if I'd be able to find anyone to go with, but as it approached some friends of mine sounded interested and we made plans to meet there.

The night before I painted my nails in the colours of the transgender pride flag. I actually had to look up on the internet what order the colours go in, lol.

Represent!

Then Saturday morning I woke up and set about choosing an outfit. Part of me wanted to wear something a little slutty, since, you know, the whole "I never got the chance to be a teenager" thing that trans women always say, and Pride's the kind of place where that wouldn't be inappropriate. But since this was going to be the first time some of my friends would be seeing me as a girl, and since I wanted that to seem reasonably normal to them, I opted for a more ordinary outfit: a long brown skirt, a stripey purple top layered over a brown camisole, and my cute black flats. Once I got there part of me wished I had dressed a little more queerly, but I'm sure there will be other opportunities for that.

The parade route was only two blocks from my house. I walked there and, with a bit of texting back and forth, managed to find my friends. I was meeting four people there: only one of them had I had a proper coming out talk with (and that was back when I still identified as a crossdresser), another one I was confident knew I dressed as a girl sometimes but we'd never specifically discussed it, the other two I didn't know how much they knew or guessed. But when I got there, no one even batted an eye at my presentation, like it was so normal it wasn't even worth mentioning. Which was the best possible response, as far as I'm concerned.

I may not be "officially" out to very many people, but I make basically no effort to keep my identity a secret, so I guess it wasn't much of a surprise. Plus, my friends are all pretty open-minded to begin with. I am so grateful to live in a time and place where I can just be myself without necessarily having to worry about all the logistics of coming out beforehand. As great as that is though, I still hope to come out to these folks pretty soon: they've seen me dressed as a girl, they may as well know I identify as one too. I'm sure they won't be surprised then, either.

The parade itself was pretty cool, although I didn't manage to get any good photos. The Society of Edmonton Atheists had a giant Flying Spaghetti Monster and signs that read "Smile, there is no hell!" It got pretty quiet when they went by so, being the non-believer that I am, I made sure to cheer extra loud. (Of course atheism has nothing specifically to do with Pride, but neither do any of the many churches and other religious groups that were also represented, so I think it was okay).

After the parade the whole festival moved to a nearby park where they had like entertainers and food vendors and all that stuff. We walked there and got some lunch. Wearing layers and a long heavy skirt turned out to be a bad idea: it got up to 27°C (81°F) and I was sweating like crazy. But it was still a lot of fun hanging out there.

The un-cropped version of that photo is the five of us sitting at a picnic table— (I don't want to tell everyone about this blog just yet, so I had no way to ask if I could put their faces on it). The next day I kept going back and looking at it almost in amazement, like Wow, that's actually me, just hanging out with people like it's no big deal.

Afterwards three of us walked back to my house (well okay, one of those guys is my roommate, so his house too) and watched the soccer match between Canada and China, which was actually taking place right here in Edmonton, which seems crazy to me, but whatever. By that point the clothes I'd worn had become pretty uncomfortable, what with the heat and the fact that my push-up bra was digging into my sternum— (it works fine when I wear actual breast forms, but because those would've shown over my neckline I'd settled for balled-up socks this time)— so I changed into a lighter skirt and t-shirt and a more comfortable bra. Had a couple beers, grilled some veggie hotdogs, enjoyed the beautiful weather...

Later in the evening we met back up with the other two people we'd been at the parade with, plus two friends of theirs I hadn't met before, and we ended up all going out to a bar and dancing. Here's the thing though: by then it was late, I hadn't shaved since the morning, and that fact was becoming pretty obvious. I really didn't want to go as a beardy girl, so I had to make a quick decision between switching to boy mode and going with them or spending however much time it would take to shave and redo my makeup and then meeting everyone else there. I wasn't even sure where we were going, so I chose the first option.

And like, dancing's still fun, even in the wrong gender, but I felt weird about it. You see, there was this girl I met there, and I danced with her for a good chunk of the evening. After a few songs she and I were dancing together in a manner that was, like, fairly sexualized. And on the one hand, it's a positive thing that I'm finally starting to feel comfortable expressing my sexuality: between my gender stuff and the conservative Christianity I practiced for so long, I've had a shit ton of issues to deal with to get to the point where I can do something like that; (granted, I've still never actually had sex with anyone, but I'll get there eventually). But afterwards I realized: she obviously thought I was a boy 'cause that's how I was presenting, she's most likely straight, and she probably would not have been into that at all if she'd known I was actually a girl. Ick. It made me feel really gross, like I'd deceived her.

I don't want to do that again. What I do want now is to go out dancing as a girl, and preferably at a queer venue where I can meet queer girls. That's like, on my list of things to do now.

Still, in spite of that little hiccup at the end there, overall it was a fantastic day. Definitely can't wait until I get to just be me all the time. :D

Good people

I'm not sure how ended up having such good people in my life, but I'm so glad I do.

Last Sunday I logged in Facebook to find that I had a PM from a cousin of mine. She's someone I'm quite fond of, though it's been a couple years since the last time we saw each other. She wrote:

Cousin I hope you know that we love you and support you. I don't have a clue how you're doing or the specifics of your life but I've got a very rough idea of it by what you've posted on fb. And I just wanted you to know that you're loved and supported no matter what.

I was, first of all, quite touched. It seemed like a good time to come out so I wrote back:

[name], thank-you so much for this. I never doubted that you'd be supportive, but it really means a lot to hear it. :)
Uh, so yeah, I'm transgender. Like, I'm a girl inside. :) It's been that way as long as I can remember but I was in pretty serious denial about it up until about two years ago. Since then I've been trying to figure out who I am and what exactly I should do about it. I'm not on hormones or anything yet but that may be in my future. Oh, and I go by Ashley within the trans community.
Feel free to ask if you have any questions.
And lastly, we need to hang out some time. It's been way too long. :)

In the week since then we've been messaging back and forth, talking about gender and coming out and all sorts of stuff. At one point she wrote:

I'm perfectly comfortable calling you Ashley. If you feel like a girl and want to live as a girl then you're a girl to me. [...] I'm glad you can start being yourself now, I imagine that's quite freeing.

I was smiling pretty big after reading that, you can be sure. Coming out to someone who's so unreservedly supportive is just one of the best things ever. :)

Another thing happened on Monday. My dysphoria was just awful that day and I spent it feeling really terrible. Around 9:00 in the evening hunger got the best of me and I had to leave my room, where I'd been hiding to avoid the people I live with, and venture down to the kitchen. Sure enough, one of my roommates was there. He asked me how my day was.
"Well... not good, actually." I replied.
"Ohh, why's that?"
I evaded this question, which he correctly interpreted as meaning I didn't want to talk about it. Instead he got out some good quality European chocolate he'd been keeping in the fridge, saying: "what's the point of having chocolate in the house if you don't eat it when you're sad?" And the two of us ate chocolate together. A gesture like that can really make something hard like dysphoria a little easier to bear.

And then on Friday it was my birthday: I turned 27. The day before, to mark the occasion, my parents took me out for sushi, which is one of my favourite things ever. And then Friday evening I spent with a group of friends playing a ridiculous drinking game, which was a lot of fun. (The game's called "Loopin' Louie," and if you believe the box it comes in it's for children aged 4-9. The version we played involved shots of Jägermeiſter though, which ups the recommended age considerably).

I think 27 is going to be a good year for me. I'm already planning on starting electrolysis as soon as I land a job, and I'll probably be looking into hormones some time after that. And although those things are scary, I've been reminded now several times this week that I have good people in my life— people I can count on for support, whether it's stated outright or just takes the form of commiserative chocolate (or, uh... getting hammered on my birthday). And that makes me feel optimistic about what's ahead. :)

Disorientation

I usually do it without even thinking about it, but it's always kind of funny to me when I catch myself. My roommates are all boys, and when I'm just hanging out with them around the house I tend not to be overly concerned about my appearance. But when a girl comes over... quite often I'll slip off to my room, quickly dab on some foundation, maybe a bit of mascara, tie my dreads back (they look a lot more feminine that way), take my glasses off (they're a very masculine style, and I can see well enough without them), and spritz on some floral perfume. I come out again, still presenting as a boy, but feeling just a little bit prettier.

It's silly of course, but what can I say? I'm attracted to women, and like most people who are attracted to women, I want to look good around them. It's just a little disorienting when you happen to be a queer woman presenting as a feminine man around straight women.

Then again, my orientation has long been a source of confusion to me, just in different ways at different times. The thing is, while I've always been primarily attracted to women, I've never quite been exclusively attracted to women. As far as I can tell, I can be physically attracted to people of various different genders, but am romantically attracted only to women. Figuring that out would have been difficult enough on its own, but growing up trans made it more complicated still. For that matter, so did growing up religious.

I'd never heard of transgenderism or transsexuality when I was a kid. At most, by the time I was in my mid-teens I had a vague idea that there was such a thing as a "sex change", but I didn't have a clue what one might entail, and just assumed it was some kind of bizarre fetish thing. Certainly, at that age, it would never have occurred to me that someone changing their sex probably had feelings very similar to, if not the same as, the ones I was dealing with.

So, not having a concept of trans-ness, I made the best use of the meagre and distorted concepts I did have: I knew I was boy because everyone said so and I had boy parts; I knew, in some vague sense, that some aspect of me was deeply and fundamentally feminine; and I knew, because I'd learned it from my culture, that feminine boys were gay. Not surprisingly then, when I finally became honest enough with myself (around 19 or 20) to admit that there was something "different" about me, I thought it might be that I was gay. This despite the fact that I was primarily into girls.

There was another concept in vogue at the time that helped me make sense of that inconsistency: the so-called ex-gay movement. Nowadays of course the ex-gay movement is widely discredited even in most Christian circles. But this was back in 2008 or so, and we evangelicals all thought it was legit. There were stories everywhere of people whose homosexuality had been "cured" by their faith in Jesus. Some of them had even gotten het-married and had kids. They all smiled as if they were happy. And it was in this context that, desperately trying to make sense of my gender and orientation, I thought I might be one of them.

My feminine personality is that of a gay man, I told myself, but I'm mostly attracted to women because Jesus is healing me. Yeah, that makes sense, right?

Now I find it downright embarrassing to admit that I ever thought something so stupid. I will only say, in my defence, that if you've never been deeply religious you probably have no idea how badly it can screw up your ability to think.

And so it came to pass that, in the summer of 2010, while camping out with two fellow believers in the beautiful Alberta wilderness, I came out as "possibly gay" for the first time. Except you don't say "possibly gay" when you're an evangelical Christian coming out to other evangelicals; you say "struggling with homosexuality," because you have to pretend being gay is bad even if you can't for the life of you think of a reason why.

"I struggle with homosexuality," I said.
"It's okay," they assured me, "it's no different than any other sin. We all struggle with sin."

The second time I came out was much the same. But the third and final time something important happened.

It was late 2011, nearly a full year before I gave up on faith, and about a year and a half before I figured out I was trans. I had joined a small group bible study that met weekly, and at one particular meeting the discussion turned to the question of why homosexuality was wrong. We knew it must be because the bible said so, but we were scratching our heads trying to figure out why. It didn't seem like it hurt anyone, and God wouldn't just make up arbitrary rules, would s\he?

It seemed like a good time to come out to the group. "That's actually, uh, that's something I struggle with, personally." I said quietly. They all thanked me for trusting them enough to share that with them. The discussion would simply have continued from there, except for the curiosity of one group member.
"Wait. How does that work?" he asked.
I looked up.
"I mean, sorry if it's a personal question," he continued, "but like, do you actually find men attractive? Like, are you attracted to men the same way that I'm attracted to women?"

Not a very tactful question perhaps, but I'm glad he asked it. Because, for the first time in my life, I was forced to try and put into words how I felt. No longer could I cling to the ill-fitting constructs I'd been using to understand myself. "Um, well, for me personally it's not so much about being interested in men, it's more like..." my mind raced, trying to find a way to express something I'd never had a name for, "...it's more like... I guess I've always felt a bit like a girl trapped inside a boy's body."

Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't a totally accurate description of how I felt. But it was much, much nearer the truth than everything I'd been saying up until then.

To illustrate what I meant by it, I told them about a time I'd seen an adorable pair of red strappy high heels in a store and felt almost heartbroken that boys couldn't wear shoes like that. (Obviously, high heels are absolutely not what being trans is about, but I was still over a year away from even learning the word "trans"— at the time it was probably the best explanation I could give.)

"I don't think that's gay," responded the guy who'd asked the question. "I mean, not if you're not attracted to men. I don't know what it is, but it isn't gay. Gay guys like guys."
"Maybe," I said. "I don't know."
"Well, they do."

The room fell silent for a moment, then one of the women spoke up. "I feel really sorry for someone like you," she said. Her eyes shone with compassion. "Like, if a girl wants to wear boy clothes, people just think she's a tomboy and nobody has a problem with it. But if a boy wants to wear girl clothes, in our society people judge him for it. And that's just so, so unfair."

I appreciated her concern, but inside I was thinking: No, you don't understand. This isn't something that's wrong with society...

This is something that's wrong with ME.

Evidently no one present that evening knew what being trans was. If they had they'd probably have said, "but of course you're transgender!" and I'd have gone home and googled the word and learned I wasn't alone and gotten a year-and-a-half head start on figuring out my identity. But that's not what happened. And in a way maybe it's for the best. Getting out of religion first and then learning I'm trans has meant I've been able to work out my identity without needing to worry the whole time about what God thinks. That seems to me a much better way to go about it.

So, I didn't learn I was trans that night. But I did learn that loving cute shoes doesn't make you gay, and that was an important thing to learn, too.

In 2013, when I did finally learn the word "trans", I was amazed to discover that the "boy trapped in a girl's body" formula has been so over-used that it's become cliché. To this day I'm still not 100% sure if I made it up that night or if I'd heard it somewhere before, but I don't suppose it matters either way.

Of course, just learning I was trans did not mean I instantly and automatically understood everything about my orientation. For a while there I worried that maybe who I really was was a lesbian, and that my limited interest in men was just some kind of penis fetish arising from a subconscious heterosexism that viewed female sexuality strictly in terms of being penetrated by a man. That is to say, that I liked the idea of being with a man because in some twisted way I thought that's what would make me a woman. Soon enough I realized that's probably not where that interest comes from, that I probably don't have such insidious ideas lurking in my subconscious, and that even if I did (or had at some point), that wouldn't make an interest in men bad in itself— heterosexism is the problem, not heterosexuality.

The most important thing I've learned, though, is that a sexual orientation is something to be enjoyed, not worried over. I'll probably never understand how butch women can make my heart skip a beat, or why I think Eddie Izzard looks gorgeous in a dress but not so much with a beard. I'll probably never understand why I find narrow hips and broad shoulders sexy in other trans women even though I dislike those features in myself. But it doesn't matter.

Perfectly understanding myself is not a prerequisite for being myself. And I can continue to make myself look pretty around girls, disorienting though it may be.

My mom wrote a letter

Driving home from work last Wednesday I heard the familiar ping of an incoming text message. I checked it when I got home. It was my mom, saying she needed to talk to me, and asking if now was a good time to call. I texted back "sure" and my phone promptly rang.

"I think we should tell your grandparents about your being transgender," she said, after the initial hellos.
"Uh, okay. You mean like, soon-ish?"
"Yeah. I think they should know. And I'm sure they'll accept you."

She explained that her parents and my dad's parents had both specifically enquired as to how I was doing recently. Both of my grandmothers are active on Facebook— (that tells you something about my age, eh)— and she figured that some of what I'd been posting recently might have made them wonder about me.

Personally I thought that she might just be reading into things, making connections between phenomena the way our brains tend to do. But regardless, my grandparents have to learn at some point. So I said okay.

As we talked about it it became apparent to me that she had, in fact, already written out an email to her parents and my dad's parents explaining the situation. She was phoning to get my permission to hit the send button. So I asked her what she'd written.

"Like, it explains that you feel like a woman trapped in a man's body, and that..."
"Uh, well,"  I interrupted her, "that's not the terminology I would use."

(Of course, the old "x trapped in a y's body" is a reasonably good answer to the what is trans? question if you're talking to someone who's completely unfamiliar with the concept and have at most one second to explain it. But otherwise it's pretty inadequate.)

"Oh," she replied, "what would you say?"

And if I had had the presence of mind to do so, I might have come up with something like, "I feel internally that I am mostly female, despite the fact that my body appears male, and this incongruity causes me a significant amount of discomfort."

But instead I said, "Oh, I don't know. I guess that's close enough." (Not a great answer on my part, I know.)

At this point I asked her to just read me the whole thing, which she did. And for the most part it was pretty good: explaining and clarifying some aspects of what trans is and isn't, as well as stating that I'd always been this way and that my parents' relationship with me was still good.

Unfortunately it also included some theologizing that I found a little unpleasant. There was something along the lines of: "We don't know why God allowed our child to be born with this condition, but we believe all things happen for a reason." She actually felt the need to clarify that they believe God intended me to be born with a male body.

That stung a bit, to be honest. Personally I think that "a thing happened, therefore God wills it" is a pretty horrifying way to look at the world. But I didn't argue with it being in the letter: she was writing from their perspective and if that's what they believe, it might as well say so.

After reading the whole thing she asked, "does that sound good?" I said "Yeah, I guess so" and she sent it.

And then she started talking about Minecraft and how monsters had recently blown up her house. (She and I play on the same server, along with my brother, which is pretty cool). And I realized that I am a lot more comfortable talking about video games with my mom than about my gender.

This was over a week ago now. I haven't heard anything from her about how or if my grandparents responded, but I'm not too worried about it. They're good people.

Mom's letter may not have been the exact words I would have chosen. But I am certainly glad I didn't have to be the one to write it, coming out being pretty low on my list of favourite things to do. So... thanks ma! :)

A very gendery day

I somewhat outed myself as at least gender non-conforming on Facebook today. I posted a happy status update about "listening to Wintersun and painting my nails". And it felt good to simply express how I was feeling.

Now of course, my gender non-conformity isn't news to anyone who sees me on a regular basis, but there are a lot of people on Facebook that I haven't seen in quite a while. Most of these are friends from the conservative Christian community I was a part of in my "previous life," before I moved to Edmonton. I can't help but think that many among that group might be close-minded about all this gendery stuff.

Wintersun, the band I mentioned, is a heavy metal group from Finland. I listen to fairly wide variety of music genres, but metal is what first got me into music as a teenager, and it will probably always hold a special place in my heart. Lately I've come to appreciate a certain defiant attitude that pervades a lot of metal music: it's the same kind of defiant attitude it takes to go out into the world as a boy with a kick-ass shade of red on your nails.

Defiantly pretty

I was at the mall today— the very big one that Edmonton is sort of famous for. (As a side note, it's kind of weird being from a town whose greatest claim to fame is having a very big mall. Two years ago, when I was in Japan, I found myself chatting chatting with a local fellow who spoke English. When I told him where I was from he said, "Oh, Edmonton! I've been to your mall. It's... very big." What else is there to say?) Even with my red nails, my cute flats, my purse and the quick dash of mascara and I'd applied, I was in boy mode. I wasn't wearing any foundation to cover my beard shadow, and I was flat-chested (as in no bra, just a t-shirt over my ordinary male torso).

When I had to pee I opted for the men's room. I figure that if I'm presenting somewhat ambiguously, the fact that I'm standing at a urinal should tip the scale toward male for anyone present who might be confused. It's always stressful though. I was glad there were lots of people around so I didn't have to worry about getting beat up. When I washed my hands the guy at the sink next to me stared at me the whole time. I was very, very glad to finish up and get out of that gendered space.

Immediately after this I went to buy some souvlaki at the food court. The cashier called me "ma'am." Like three times.

Holy shit, are you serious?

I remembered many years ago, when I was doing a very good job of suppressing my gender, that I used to get taken for female now and then because of my long hippie hair. At the time this bothered me (because, like I said, suppressing my gender), so as soon as I could I grew a hippie beard to go with it. That seemed to convince everyone I was a man. Heck, I nearly convinced myself.

Nowadays, of course, I am generally very happy to be seen as female, because I'm beginning to accept that that's who I am. But in this case it kind of freaked me out. It's stressful when you don't know whether the next person to look at you will see a man or a woman. Or at least it is to me.

What I gained today is an even deeper respect for genderqueer and other non-binary people who present androgynously on a regular basis. Navigating a binary world that doesn't have a category for you is just plain hard sometimes.

(And in case you're wondering, I spent like five minutes taking pictures of my fist and another ten messing around in GIMP to produce the illustration for this post. I am far too easily side-tracked, it seems.)

Out!

Last Sunday I came out to my parents. Finally. And what a relief it is to not have that burden anymore! Yay!

Earlier I had asked my brother and his wife if they would accompany me for moral support. So, from their house, I texted my mom asking if they were home as there was some stuff I wanted to talk to them about. She said yes and the three of us drove there, me understandably nervous.

"So," my mom said, once we'd been there a few minutes, "what is it you want to talk to us about?"
"Well, uh," I stammermed, "The thing is, I'm pretty sure I'm transgender."
(That was a lie: I know I'm transgender, it's not something I'm "pretty sure" about. But somehow it felt easier to sound a little uncertain.)

Then followed a very long, rambling explanation from me in which I clarified all the usual stuff: that I'm not currently planning on having any medical intervention, that I've felt this way my whole life, that it's not a choice, that I'm still attracted to girls, and so on. I tried to make it clear how much happier I am now that I've stopped supressing this part of me. Lastly I said something like, but not as concise as: "I'm telling you this because I love you guys and want you to know me as the person I am, not the one I pretend to be."

"Well," my mom said slowly, "I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Of course we still love you. But I'm worried— won't this make your life more complicated?"
"I'm sure it will," I responded, "but I'd rather have a life that's complicated and happy than one that's simple and miserable."

It was clear right away that they weren't surprised. In fact, they had guessed that that was what I was going to tell them when I sent the text. My dad said it had been kind of obvious for a while. "We've always known that you were... different," added my mom. She put the word different in air quotes.

This was something I hadn't realized. If they've known since my childhood that I was "different," (to use my mother's word), than they've known for longer than I have. Suddenly it occured to me that maybe every anti-LGBT thing they said when I was growing up was not spoken out of idle bigotry, but intentionally for me to hear, in a vain hope that I might somehow turn out straight. That's probably silly though, and even if it were true, there'd be no sense in dwelling on the past now.

My mom asked what expectations I had of them now that I was out. I was confused by this and asked her what she meant.
"Well, for example, I somtimes call you son."
"Ohhhh... yeah," I said, "I guess I'd prefer something more gender-neutral. Like child."
"Okay, I'll try. But I'll probably slip up sometimes."
"That's okay," I said.
I didn't ask for female pronouns; I am, after all, still living primarily as a male.

I suppose the whole experience went about as well as I could reasonably have hoped for. It was obvious that my parents aren't happy about this, but they're willing to accept it, so that's good. Considering that some people are literally disowned over this stuff, I guess I should be grateful. Even so, I wish they could be happy for me that I'm beginning to feel comfortable as myself, or proud of me for making an effort to live authentically.

But maybe those things will come with time.

A cold night

It was bitterly cold, and we never did find what we were looking for, but the night was still a lot of fun.

Last Thursday four of us drove out of the city for an evening of stargazing, equipped with a telescope, binoculars, sky charts and heavy coats. We were hoping to see the recent supernova in the M82 galaxy, but our inexperience, the light of the half moon, and the low temperatures kept us from finding it. Even so, we got a good look at Jupiter and three of its moons, which was still pretty cool.

Dressing to stay warm in -20° C is a very different thing from dressing to express one's gender. I suppose I was in "boy mode," but I'd have worn the same warm clothes, out of nessecity, in any gender. What was really nice is that the group consisted entirely of people I'm out to. Somehow I find it much easier to present male around people who know I'm trans than around those who don't. I guess that's because I don't feel like I'm decieving anyone.

What we failed to find...

I've been thinking and writing about coming out to my parents for a long time. Recently I asked my brother and sister-in-law if they'd be willing to come along with me when I come out, to provide moral support. They said of course they would. This will make it a lot easier, not to mention a lot more likely to actually happen. Currently the plan is for the three of us to head over to my parents' place the next time my father is in town, which will be next week. So now there is a definite timeframe for this happening!

Not a happy girl

I'm still not out to my parents. At the end of December I figured that would be done by now. But it's still looming over me. Partly this is because my dad travels a lot for his job and I don't always know when he's in town. But it's mostly my own cowardly lack of resolve.

When I came out to my roommates last month, one of them was in Germany so he never heard about it. He's been back in Canada for a couple weeks now, and I still haven't talked to him about it. I don't have any doubts that he'll be accepting, but I still feel like I ought to have the conversation before he sees me as a girl. (As someone else put it, the words transgender and surprise don't go well together.) So this means that I've been back temporarily in a quasi-closet around my own house.

Of course school has now started up again after the winter break, and I have been continuing to present male there. I could maybe attend my larger classes as a girl without it being a big deal. But it would seem strange, in the smaller, more interactive classes, to suddenly show up in a different gender. So, male it is.

All of these factors combined— my continued worry about telling my parents plus the two things limiting my gender expression— have been causing me some pretty bad depression lately. I have not been a happy girl these past two weeks. Not at all. Sigh...

Still though, I know what I need to do. Sitting around moping won't help; I need to take real steps toward making things better. To that end, I'm making it a goal to leave the house as a girl at least once this week.

Christmas in the closet

The past two months have been a time of very rapid progress for me. In a short amount of time I've advanced from peering out of the closet to taking my first tentative steps into the world as my real (female?) self. And I felt comfortable as me, and it was like fresh air and sunshine.

And then, with its great clattering of tacky songs, comes Christmas. Suddenly I am hurled back into the suffocating darkness of the closet. The door is shut and latched, and I am forced to contend once more with the absurd fact of hiding my identity from people I love.

This is because, of course, all the progress I made stopped short of coming out to my parents.

In my previous post I wrote of walking to the grocery store and buying lunch as a girl. That day also happened to be the first time I spent an entire day as a girl, which was lovely. I hoped that with all that girl-time my gender might stop bothering me for a while and I decided to be a boy the next day. But it was just as difficult as ever, and this more or less confirmed for me that I will probably have to socially transition.

A couple days later I was a girl again. This time I put gas in my car, got a bunch of groceries, talked to the cashier with my first attempt at a female voice, and went Christmas shopping at an antique store. What I've learned from all this is that either I pass, or people in general don't give a shit about crossdressers— and to be honest, the latter sounds more likely— because no one gave any signs that anything was out of the ordinary.

Christmas is a huge deal in my family, and in general I actually enjoy it. We had our celebration early, on the 22nd, because my brother and his wife, (henceforth known as Carson and Jamey), were planning on spending the 25th with her family. My family always spends the day before Christmas together as well, which meant two days of pretending to be a boy. And not the effeminate boy I usually look like when I'm presenting male either, but a "typical" boy.

And so Christmas was fun, but it was also hard. It helped a lot having Carson and Jamey there, as they at least know about me. After we finished unwrapping the presents Jamey nudged me to follow her down the hall and gave me a small container of makeup from MAC: a clandestine Christmas gift. It wasn't much, but what it meant— an affirmation of my gender at a time when that's exactly what I needed— was huge. I ended up having to lock myself in the bathroom until I stopped crying, silly me! Sometimes the tears are just one more thing you have to hide...

I went home that evening thinking I had made it through a Christmas in the closet. But as I mentioned, we did Christmas early. And since I was still in town over the 24th and 25th, my parents suggested I spend those days at their house too. I didn't have a good reason not to, and resigned myself to continue the charade.

On the 23rd my brother and his wife were making the ten hour drive to visit her family in British Columbia. Someone turning left onto the highway didn't see them coming and pulled out just in time to cause an accident. My brother texted me from the ambulance. No one involved seemed to be seriously hurt, but they were going to the hospital just to be sure. Their car, however, was totalled. In the end Jamey had some minor whiplash, but that was the only injury. They actually made it to their destination that same night, somewhat later than intended. Carson asked me not to tell mom and dad about this incident, and I understood why: we all know my father is a chronic worrier. Still, this meant one more secret to keep.

Their car. Yikes...

The next day I returned to my parent's house. And even though I love my parents, I hated being around them. I'm very bad at pretending to be happy when I'm not. After two days of this they were fairly certain that there was something wrong with me that I was keeping from them. I would have liked to have said, "Relax guys, I'm just trans, it's not a big deal." But I was in no emotional state to have that whole conversation, so I left with the source of my malaise still (mostly) unknown.*

They've been pretty worried about me since then.

The ironic thing is that, with the exception of the last few days, I've actually been doing very well lately. I am, in general, happier than I've been in a long time— taking the first small steps toward living in the right gender has a way of doing that, I suppose. But of course that's not the part of me they saw. How could they have?

I suppose I ought to come out to them, and soon. Not just for my sake anymore, but for theirs too. It's unkind of me to let them worry so much when there's really nothing wrong. I'm kind of annoyed to have had my hand forced in this way, but I guess that's life. And in any event, I've been thinking about telling them for a long time.

I hope all goes well when I do.



* My mom did pick up on a hint that it was gender-related, but I won't go into that now because this post is already really long.

I came out to my housemates!

After months of thinking and worrying and hoping, I've finally come out to my roommates! And their response, as I suspected it would be, was very positive. Yay!

I moved into this house last May after responding to a roommate wanted ad, so I didn't know any of the people I was living with at first. They were all cis hetero guys in their early twenties. At the time I had no idea how significant crossdressing would become for me: the only girly things I owned when I moved in were a tube of mascara and a pair of women's jeans. But as I began to realize just how trans I was, I started to wonder if I should tell my roommates. Around this time I also came out to my friend AT, the first person I ever told.

Of my four roommates at the time, I thought three of them would be more or less okay with it. But the fourth guy I knew would not be. Well, that fourth guy turned out to be a thief and got himself kicked out of the house. AT just happened to be looking for a place at the time, and moved in to fill the empty room. It was totally serendipitous: the one housemate who I was sure wouldn't accept me was replaced by, at the time, the one person in the world whom I was already out to. After that minor miracle I pretty much made up mind that I would tell them.

That was back in July. Either because coming out is so hard or because I'm a coward, it took me till now to finally get around to it.

Yesterday evening I went down to the basement where they were playing billiards on our pool table. "Hey, can I talk to you guys about something?"
And it was so simple and so easy. I told them I was transgender and felt more comfortable dressing as a girl. I clarified that I'm attracted to girls and that crossdressing isn't a fetish for me. And they said, "Yeah man, that's totally okay. You gotta be yourself."
"So like, if you saw me in, say, a skirt or something, that wouldn't freak you out?" I wanted to be sure we were on the same page.
"That would be fine," they affirmed, adding that they appreciated my talking to them about it nonetheless.
"You guys have probably already noticed some stuff anyways," I suggested.
"Yeah... we had pretty clear idea already."
And that was it. I thanked them for being so accepting, and the conversation turned to something else.

I still can't believe I spent so much time worrying about something so small. And I'm free now! I can dress how I want around the house! Yaaaay!! (I should add that one roommate still doesn't know: he returned to his native Deutschland for the holidays and won't be back till January. But I'm sure he'll be just as accepting as the others.)

Eff you, closet!

I am now out to five people in total, four guys and one girl. I suppose mom and dad should be next on the list, but that conversation's going to be a lot scarier...

I (finally) left the house as a girl! Yay yay yay!!

Yesterday evening I went for a walk around my neighbourhood as a girl, and it was lovely! The snow was falling softly, and made for a very peaceful winter's night. Even if I passed I must have looked kind of silly clomping through the snow in my heels, stopping now and then to take selfies. But that's okay, I enjoyed myself, and that's what matters. (Only a crossdresser wears heels to go for a stroll, right?)

One of my roommates was home when I left. I'm sort of in a glass closet to my roommates: I haven't "officially" come out to them, but I make very little effort to hide who I am and I suspect they kind of know already. Nonetheless, I've decided I don't want them to see me as a girl until I've had a chance to explain why I crossdress and make sure they're comfortable with it. Thus, in order to get from my room to the outdoors I had to do a bit of sneaking. Just to be on the safe side, I left the house in my boy shoes, climbed into my car, put on my girl shoes in there, then got out and went for the walk. Kind of a silly extra step, but whatever.

I only really got nervous once. There was someone behind me and I wanted to stop to think about which way to go, but was afraid of them catching up to me. Instead I just kept walking. Overall the experience was very liberating: being out as my female self, doing something in the real world. The closet, even a glass one, gets pretty stuffy after a while.

A liberated woman! ♥

Not unusually for a winter in Alberta, it was a chilly -11° C out. The cold compelled me homeward sooner than I might have liked.

Two things have resulted from this little excursion. One is that I feel more confident and comfortable with myself. Before I always felt a twinge of embarrassment talking about my crossdressing with either of the males I'm out to. Today I brought it up casually in a conversation with one of them like it was no big deal. The other is that I've decided I need to buy some winter-appropriate feminine footwear: walking through snow in heels is kind of stupid and a little dangerous...

Anyways, let's hope this is the first of many such outings!

Facial hair and the power of kind words

Sometimes I let my facial hair grow out for a few days. I know it's really psychologically unhealthy to do so, but I'm lazy, and shaving sucks, and it can be a bit of a trigger too. (I recently made the impulse purchase of an epilator, hoping I'd be able to use use it on my face. The prospect of no shaving, no beard shadow, and three weeks of no re-growth seemed fantastic. I gave it a try, but it's just too damn painful. There's a lot of torture I'm willing to endure in order to look pretty, but even this t-girl's gotta draw the line somewhere!) It's always kind of surreal when I go to shave after a few days of not shaving. I'm inevitably struck by how good I look, as a guy, with a bit of stubble. As gross as it feels to say this, I make a very handsome boy, and I definitely look better stubbly than I do clean-shaven. What a pity I'm so uncomfortable looking like a guy...

Epilator? More like holyfuckilator...

Yesterday I was the recipient of some kind words (and possibly speculations?) about my femininity, from a cis girl. NL is a friend of one of my roommates, and she's started to become a friend of mine, too. She was over at our house for a visit when she caught sight of my hands and asked, "Did you do your nails?"
"Yep!" I responded, holding them out for her to look, "Aren't they pretty?"
"Wow, did you do them yourself?"
"Yep!"
"Really? Right and left hand?"
"Yep!"
She seemed pretty impressed. She made a comment about me being like a nail salon, and added, "You should do mine some time!"
I giggled at this suggestion. Then she asked, "Did you do your eyebrows, too?"
I grinned. "Yeah, I might have."
"Awww," she said, "You've just been, like, experimenting?"
I didn't really know what to say to this, and answered, slightly awkwardly, "Yeah, I guess so."
Then, before I knew it, the conversation had turned to something else.

It's such a small thing, she probably has no idea what a difference it made. But because of that little excahnge I felt a lot better about myself and my gender than I had in a while. Who would have known I had such a knack for nails? (Maybe she was just being nice?)

I haven't yet come out to three of my four roommates, (and yes, I live in a house of five people. And we share one bathroom. And I'm a crossdresser. It's pretty insane, actually). This conversation, ironically, took place in front of precisely those three. If they didn't suspect something before I'm sure they do now! In retrospect it was probably the perfect opportunity to tell them (and her), and I'm a little annoyed that I missed it. But, the fact that they all seemed unfazed by it gives me hope for acceptance when I do let them know. Which, all things considered, should probably happen sooner than later.

Not today

Before I go and visit my parents I take off all my nail polish. If they're going to stop by my house I hide all my skirts. I hate this arrangement. I feel like a liar. I so badly want them to know me as the person I am, not the one I pretend to be. Lately I've been thinking a lot about how and when I will make that happen.

Later today I and my brother and sister-in-law are all going over to mom and dad's for a belated Thanksgiving dinner. (Thanksgiving was two weeks ago, but we postponed it 'cause my dad was out of town). I had been thinking that, in many ways, today would be the perfect day to come out to them. And then something very sad happened.

A few days ago my mom's brother died of cancer.

She's apparently taking it pretty well: it's something we all knew was coming for a while. But still, I feel it would be very selfish of me to burden her with my silly gender issues at a time like this. She needs time and space to process his passing: it'd be unfair to give her something else to process on top of that.

So, I will not be coming out today.

I don't always...

I don't always wear girly sleepwear to bed, but when I do, it's an absolute joy waking up the next morning. There's nothing like starting off your day in the right gender! ^_^

The only downside (and it's a pretty big one) is that it makes having to change into boy clothes right away that much more miserable. Lately I've come to realize that my crossdressing is not simply about the fact that I like dressing as a girl; it's also about the fact that I hate dressing as a boy.

(happy sigh) :D

This past week has been good in some ways and frustrating in others. I'm starting school next week, but I decided to quit my job last week (ie, a week early) so as to have some free time in between. During that time I was able to dress a lot more freely than I usually am, since my roommates were, for the most part, at work during the day. This was wonderful, but it forced me to revisit a bunch of questions that, in many ways, I'd rather not have to deal with: would I dress full time if I could? would I transition if it wasn't so scary? am I, in fact, a girl in the wrong body??

When I first accepted my trans-ness and started trying to figure out what it means for me, I asked those sort of questions a lot. They caused me a great deal of stress and not a few tears, but I eventually reached the conclusion that I'm fairly happy having a boy body and transitioning is probably not right for me. Today I'm less certain about either of those things.

The freedom I had this week also forced me to face the fact that I will have to come out to my roommates at some point. It will drive me insane if I have to keep locking myself up in my room any time I need to dress and someone else happens to be home. My roommates are good guys and they're totally not homophobic or anything, so I think they'd be okay with it, but even still, coming out is always hard.

A big step in an out-of-the-closet direction

Yesterday evening I walked to my car, got in, and turned the key. My heart was pounding. I took a deep breath. I told myself, "Okay Ashley, you're a big girl, you can do this."

I was about to drive to my brother and sister-in-law's house. And I was going to tell them about who I am. And I was so nervous about it that I went the wrong way and got there late!

I had been wanting to come out to Carson (my borther) and Jamey (his wife) for a while now. I had had several perfect oppurtunities to do so, but I couldn't bring myself to just say it. Countless times the words "hey, can I talk to you guys about something?" died on my tongue. So I decided I would put myself in a position where I had no choice.

Thus, last Sunday I texted my brother asking if they were home and if I could stop by as there was "some stuff" I wanted to talk to them about. I hit send and knew I was committed. But the way our three schedules worked out it ended up having to wait until Wednesday. So they spent three days wondering what great secret I had to tell, and I spent three days worrying about it.

During that time I was really depressed and experieced a lot of gender stress; (I can't dress as freely as I'd like due to my roommates, so that doesn't help). I kept thinking of reasons I didn't really need to tell them: "I'm not that transgendered; is the closet really so bad?" But I knew I'd be better off with them knowing and I knew I couldn't back out now anyways.

So, eventually, I got there, we had dinner, we sat down for tea, and after a bit of an awkward preamble I simply said, "I am transgender." I then clarified that I wasn't gay and I wasn't transsexual. I told them I felt like my brain was half boy and half girl. I told them I had spent most of my life supressing and denying the girl half, and that this had resulted in a lot of depression and some bad habits I had used to help me cope. I told them that earlier this year I reached a point where I finally had to accpet my femininity, that I had started expressing my girl half, and that as a result I had been much happier and much psychologically healthier. I told them that expressing that side of me included crossdressing. I told them I felt more comfortable in girl clothes than boy clothes. I told them I was born this way. And lastly I told them "I just wanted you guys to know; I didn't want it to be a secret."

And their response was absolutely amazing. Better, by far, then I had hoped for. You see, Carson and I both come from a very conservative religious background, and Jamey, remarkably, comes from an even more conservative religious background, so I had cause for concern. But they were totally accepting, totally supportive, and, best of all, really quite comfortable with the idea. Carson told me that he already suspected something like this anyways. Jamey told me she was really happy for me. They made it clear they didn't think there was anything bad about crossdressing. We talked a lot about gender as a spectrum, unrelated to one's biological sex and one's orientation. And I was continually sursprised by how well they understood these concepts when I had spent most of my life struggling with them. They asked a lot of really good questions, too: how long have you known? which pronouns do you prefer? are you going to tell mom and dad? All in all I was profoundly grateful to have such wonderful people as siblings.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, Jamey went and got out a bunch of her makeup stuff! And as my brother turned his attention to some boring video game, me and the sis-in-law played around with mascara and liner and eyeshadow! She tried to teach me how to do a smokey eye look, but I'm really bad at it.

Jamey is the first girl I've ever told. Before yesterday the only person I was out to was a close male friend. I deeply appreciate him as well, but being out to a girl opens up a whole world of useful makeup advice and possible shopping trips! Especially a girl like Jamey, who actually works as a sales assistant at a clothing store and as such has helped plenty of crossdressers put outfits together.

One of the best parts of this whole thing is the huge boost in confidence I've recieved by having the support of two of the most important people in my life. I now feel like I could tell just about anyone! I am so lucky to have those two in my family, and I am so glad I told them, and I am so thankful they accept me as they do.