I was visiting my mom the other day and the subject of my gender issues came up. She admitted she still had a lot of doubts and confusion, which is understandable. (She also told me my dad was having a easier time accepting it than she was, which is kind of what I expected.) I tried to address some of her concerns, but I don't think I did it very well. At one point during the conversation I offered to show her some pictures of what I look like as a girl. She seemed curious and agreed.
I grabbed a computer and brought up a photo from New Year's Eve. "Wow! I love that dress,"she said. "You know, you're actually really pretty," As we continued to peruse photos she added, "I think you're prettier as a girl than you are handsome as a boy!" I grinned and said, "I hope so!" :)
As much as I loved the affirmation of my gender, it was also slightly awkward. When you come out as trans there are certain gendered aspects of how you relate to people, and of how people relate to you, that have to be relearned. Of course, my mother never called me pretty when I was her son, so this was one of them. Afterwards she asked, "It's okay for me to say you're pretty, right? 'Cause you want to be pretty, right?"
"Yeah, it's okay," I said, "I'm just not used to it."
It was a little weird for both of us. But that, I'm sure, will change with time.
In other news, as of last week it's been one whole year since I figured out I was trans! (Perhaps some time I will write a post about how that came to pass, but not today). I've come a long way since my first terrified foray into the cosmetics section, but more and more I'm realizing I still have a long way to go.
Tuesday, 8 April 2014
The strangest thing happened...
I put my books in my bag, donned my shoes and walked to class, trying to recall kanji characters I should have memorized by now. We had a quiz today I hadn't really studied for, and, even worse, I had missed the previous lecture.
I'm taking Japanese as my arts elective this semester. I'd spent a few weeks in Japan in 2012 and wanted to learn more of the language.「みなさん、こんばんは」 said our sensei as I came in and sat down: good evening everyone.
And then I noticed it. One of my classmates— a guy, or so I had thought— was dressed as a girl.
Or was she? Yes, I decided, that's definitely a woman's jacket. And arched eyebrows. And makeup. She was clearly presenting female. That's strange, I thought. At first I worried it might be some kind of transphobic joke: perhaps "he" had lost a bet or some stupid thing like that. But when she opened her mouth to ask a question, and I heard her straining to speak in a higher register the way a lot of new trans women do, it was clear to me that this was serious. I guess she's a girl now, I said to myself.
Later I would learn that during the previous lecture, the one I had missed, she had come out to the class as transsexual, stating that she would be presenting female from now on. Ironically, I had missed that class because of my own gender dysphoria: it was one of those times when I just couldn't bear the thought of interacting with others as a boy. Of all the classes to miss, I miss the one where someone comes out as trans.
There are two things about this that are kind of blowing my mind. One is the statistical improbability of it. There's only 21 people in that class: the odds of selecting 21 people at random and getting two closeted trans girls must be pretty low. The other is that I hadn't noticed anything before. When I tell people I'm trans the response is usually along the lines of "well obviously." But in her case, I didn't pick up on any clues. (Well, there was the time she crossdressed for a skit, but it was done so deliberately badly I didn't think it meant anything...)
I didn't get a chance to talk to her after class, and now there's only one class left before the semester ends. I don't actually know her very well, and I don't really know what I would say— ("I'm a girl too, let's be friends!" ??), but I feel like I should reach out in some way. We t-folk gotta stick together, right?
I'm taking Japanese as my arts elective this semester. I'd spent a few weeks in Japan in 2012 and wanted to learn more of the language.「みなさん、こんばんは」 said our sensei as I came in and sat down: good evening everyone.
And then I noticed it. One of my classmates— a guy, or so I had thought— was dressed as a girl.
Or was she? Yes, I decided, that's definitely a woman's jacket. And arched eyebrows. And makeup. She was clearly presenting female. That's strange, I thought. At first I worried it might be some kind of transphobic joke: perhaps "he" had lost a bet or some stupid thing like that. But when she opened her mouth to ask a question, and I heard her straining to speak in a higher register the way a lot of new trans women do, it was clear to me that this was serious. I guess she's a girl now, I said to myself.
Later I would learn that during the previous lecture, the one I had missed, she had come out to the class as transsexual, stating that she would be presenting female from now on. Ironically, I had missed that class because of my own gender dysphoria: it was one of those times when I just couldn't bear the thought of interacting with others as a boy. Of all the classes to miss, I miss the one where someone comes out as trans.
There are two things about this that are kind of blowing my mind. One is the statistical improbability of it. There's only 21 people in that class: the odds of selecting 21 people at random and getting two closeted trans girls must be pretty low. The other is that I hadn't noticed anything before. When I tell people I'm trans the response is usually along the lines of "well obviously." But in her case, I didn't pick up on any clues. (Well, there was the time she crossdressed for a skit, but it was done so deliberately badly I didn't think it meant anything...)
I didn't get a chance to talk to her after class, and now there's only one class left before the semester ends. I don't actually know her very well, and I don't really know what I would say— ("I'm a girl too, let's be friends!" ??), but I feel like I should reach out in some way. We t-folk gotta stick together, right?
| "I'm a girl too!" |
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Seven trans musicians that inspire me
I figured I would take a break from the navel-gazing introspection that typifies this blog and share with anyone who's interested some of the trans musicians I find inspiring. I love that there are artists out there who have experienced, and can sing about, some of the same struggles I'm going through. And, as a bit of a musician myself, it's encouraging to hear that a woman can sing with a "male" vocal range and still sound amazing. So here, in no particular order, here are seven trans musicians that inspire me:
Laura Jane Grace
Rae Spoon
Are there any trans musicians you appreciate that aren't on this list? Let me know!
Laura Jane Grace
Laura Jane Grace fronts a punk band called Against Me! and generally kicks ass. She
began transitioning in 2012 and came out to the world with a really great story and interview in Rolling Stone magazine. The band’s next album was the aptly
named Transgender Dysphoria Blues,
which was released last January and dealt heavily with the subject it was named for. I deeply appreciate how Laura’s songwriting is so unapologetically honest when she's describing the shittiness that is gender dysphoria.
Rae Spoon
Rae Spoon blends folk, indie rock, electronic and country
music in a way that’s unique and beautiful. Assigned female at birth, ze lived
as a man for years before coming out as genderqueer. Ze has an
evangelical Christian background, and I feel like I can hear in some of zir lyrics the
same sense of having been betrayed by the church that I’ve experienced in my
own life.
Ataru Nakamura (中村 中)
Ataru Nakamura sings pop music in the broadest sense of the term, ranging from stirring symphonic pieces to jazzy, cabaret-inspired rock. She transitioned as a teenager before beginning her music career, but came out to the press early on. What I love about her is that she is so amazingly talented. Unlike a lot of pop singers, she writes her own lyrics and composes her own music. And in addition to her gorgeous voice, she is a very capable pianist and drummer. (And she rocks the kazoo!)
Lucas Silveira
Lucas Silveira plays rock and roll in a band called the Cliks. Their tunes are catchy with a vaguely 50s-ish aesthetic. He's stated that he wants to be seen primarily as a musician rather than some sort of transgender spokesman. That being said, it’s kind of interesting to hear how his voice has changed from their earlier recordings since he started taking testosterone in 2010.
Belle Nuntita (เบลล์ นันทิตา)
Ataru Nakamura (中村 中)
Ataru Nakamura sings pop music in the broadest sense of the term, ranging from stirring symphonic pieces to jazzy, cabaret-inspired rock. She transitioned as a teenager before beginning her music career, but came out to the press early on. What I love about her is that she is so amazingly talented. Unlike a lot of pop singers, she writes her own lyrics and composes her own music. And in addition to her gorgeous voice, she is a very capable pianist and drummer. (And she rocks the kazoo!)
Lucas Silveira
Lucas Silveira plays rock and roll in a band called the Cliks. Their tunes are catchy with a vaguely 50s-ish aesthetic. He's stated that he wants to be seen primarily as a musician rather than some sort of transgender spokesman. That being said, it’s kind of interesting to hear how his voice has changed from their earlier recordings since he started taking testosterone in 2010.
Belle Nuntita (เบลล์ นันทิตา)
Belle Nuntita sings typically cheesy pop music, but
she does it very well. She became a celebrity overnight after apearing on the
TV show Thailand’s got Talent in 2011. Since then she has been raising awareness
about the challenges trans people face, as well as continuing to perform and record
her music. She has a deep voice for a woman, but it still sounds unmistakably
female, and somehow I find that combination very sexy. :)
Titica
Titica is a rapper with a penchant for very high
energy, techno-inspired beats: it’s the kind of music that would be a ton of fun
to dance to, even if it's not what I'd typically listen to. She’s from Angola, which is definitely not an
LGBT-friendly country, but even so she’s very out and visible as a trans
person. Between her dance moves and her outfits, it’s obvious she is very, very
comfortable with her body. Which I think is pretty great.
Mina Caputo
Mina Caputo started out playing metal in a band called
Life of Agony (which may actually be
the metaly-est band name ever), but left the group in 1997. Since then her
solo work has taken on a softer, more introspective tone. She began transitioning in 2011. Her song Identity
contains the lyrics, “I know I’m not a man \ I know I’m not a woman," which is sort of how I feel some days.
Are there any trans musicians you appreciate that aren't on this list? Let me know!
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Community
I miss the sense of community I had when I was a conservative Christian. Even though that community didn't exactly foster critical thinking, even though I had to work so hard to hide all my doubts about basic tenets of the faith, and even though no one really knew me 'cause I was lying to all of us about my gender identity: still, in a way, those were some of the closest friends I've ever had.
I moved to Edmonton in December of 2012; before that I'd been living in a town called Grande Prairie. In Grande Prairie I played piano at my local church, and I helped out with the soup kitchen they ran. I attended a weekly bible study group, and I lived with all Christian roommates— (one was even an ordained clergy member). One of the main reasons I moved was to get away from all that. By the end of 2012 it was finally becoming apparent to me that I was losing my faith. I needed space to ask basic questions about what I thought was true, and I wasn't going to find that space in the evangelical Christian community. So I got out.
I moved to Edmonton because that's where my family lives and I thought I might end up going to school here, (which in fact I did). I found the space to ask questions, and in that space I discovered and accepted that I am transgender. But what I lost in the process was a close, loving community. I still keep in touch with some of my old friends through Facebook, but I feel like we're drifting apart. It makes me sad.
I suppose what I ought to do is get involved in the queer community here in Edmonton. (I went to two meetings of my school's queer social club, and one meeting of a trans support group, but that's all.) To be part of a community again, and one where I can actually be myself, would be fantastic. I'm shy and making friends is hard, but still I should try.
Oh, and guess what? I got to see Laverne Cox speak last Friday! She gave a talk as part of my school's pride week, it was really good. Even though I went by myself, it was very refreshing to be in a huge room full of people who accept the legitimacy of trans identites. That's precisely the kind of community I want to be a part of!
I moved to Edmonton in December of 2012; before that I'd been living in a town called Grande Prairie. In Grande Prairie I played piano at my local church, and I helped out with the soup kitchen they ran. I attended a weekly bible study group, and I lived with all Christian roommates— (one was even an ordained clergy member). One of the main reasons I moved was to get away from all that. By the end of 2012 it was finally becoming apparent to me that I was losing my faith. I needed space to ask basic questions about what I thought was true, and I wasn't going to find that space in the evangelical Christian community. So I got out.
I moved to Edmonton because that's where my family lives and I thought I might end up going to school here, (which in fact I did). I found the space to ask questions, and in that space I discovered and accepted that I am transgender. But what I lost in the process was a close, loving community. I still keep in touch with some of my old friends through Facebook, but I feel like we're drifting apart. It makes me sad.
I suppose what I ought to do is get involved in the queer community here in Edmonton. (I went to two meetings of my school's queer social club, and one meeting of a trans support group, but that's all.) To be part of a community again, and one where I can actually be myself, would be fantastic. I'm shy and making friends is hard, but still I should try.
Oh, and guess what? I got to see Laverne Cox speak last Friday! She gave a talk as part of my school's pride week, it was really good. Even though I went by myself, it was very refreshing to be in a huge room full of people who accept the legitimacy of trans identites. That's precisely the kind of community I want to be a part of!
Friday, 28 February 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, 9 February 2014
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.
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!
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... |
Friday, 31 January 2014
Feeling better
Sometimes I think everyone should have a blog.
When I wrote my last post I was so dysphoric about my gender I felt like I could hardly breathe. In the course of writing it I determined that I should get out of the house as a girl at least once that week. And guess what? I ended up doing it twice! And have been feeling quite a bit better as a result. This blogging thing really does help.
The second time I even attended two of my classes at the university. (They were larger classes where I don't know anyone). I wore a skirt, which was a lot of fun, and heels, which would have been fun except for the fact that I walk to school from my house: halfway there I was thinking: why the hell do we wear these things? Nonetheless, I felt like I looked fantastic— (oh yeah, that's why)— and had a really good day.
In some ways my gender issues are actually pretty simple: when I'm a girl I'm happy; when I'm a boy I'm sad. It's not that hard to understand after all.
I recently discovered and started reading a manga series called Hōrō Musuko, or "Wandering Son." (Manga is Japanese comic books, by the way). It tells a trans-y coming of age story about a "boy who wants to be a girl" and a "girl who wants to be a boy." The two discover each other's secret and together they face the trials of puberty, bullying and keeping everything hidden from their parents. The author is cis and there a few places where that becomes cringingly obvious, but for the most part it's very well done. Somehow I've found it incredibly cathartic to watch these characters struggle with things I've gone through, and some things I'm still going through.
Speaking of which, it sounds like I'm probably heading over to my parents' house for dinner tomorrow. I've been thinking about coming out to them for ages now. Maybe it's time I finally did...
When I wrote my last post I was so dysphoric about my gender I felt like I could hardly breathe. In the course of writing it I determined that I should get out of the house as a girl at least once that week. And guess what? I ended up doing it twice! And have been feeling quite a bit better as a result. This blogging thing really does help.
The second time I even attended two of my classes at the university. (They were larger classes where I don't know anyone). I wore a skirt, which was a lot of fun, and heels, which would have been fun except for the fact that I walk to school from my house: halfway there I was thinking: why the hell do we wear these things? Nonetheless, I felt like I looked fantastic— (oh yeah, that's why)— and had a really good day.
In some ways my gender issues are actually pretty simple: when I'm a girl I'm happy; when I'm a boy I'm sad. It's not that hard to understand after all.
I recently discovered and started reading a manga series called Hōrō Musuko, or "Wandering Son." (Manga is Japanese comic books, by the way). It tells a trans-y coming of age story about a "boy who wants to be a girl" and a "girl who wants to be a boy." The two discover each other's secret and together they face the trials of puberty, bullying and keeping everything hidden from their parents. The author is cis and there a few places where that becomes cringingly obvious, but for the most part it's very well done. Somehow I've found it incredibly cathartic to watch these characters struggle with things I've gone through, and some things I'm still going through.
| The main characters in their preferred genders. |
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