3 Years on Testosterone
voice clip : 3 years

It’s hard to believe how much my life has changed in the past four years.  Then, I could barely leave my house sometimes because of my anxiety and depression.  I couldn’t seem to keep a job, and I was losing hope that I would ever find a way to finish my education.  I hated my body and was struggling with the realization that I needed to transition.

While I still struggle with anxiety and depression, it is nothing like it once was for me.  I am able to get out of bed and function in society pretty much every day.  Just as importantly, I’m about to bounce back from the brief periods where I do have trouble functioning.  I have had the same job for almost three years.  I’ve been accepted into my college’s highly competitive nursing program, and will start the curriculum in about a week.  I still struggle with body dysphoria and the knowledge that there are still steps I need to take to correct it.  While I am not completely at peace with my body, I can honestly say that I love it, and myself as a whole.

My body hasn’t changed much in the past year.  It’s a bit furrier all over, and that’s the biggest change.  I’ve got a good bit on my back, and my tummy fur is darker, thicker, and a bit longer, though I think it looks better and less random than it did before.  I keep most of my body hair clippered. The backs of my hands have a little bit of hair on them now, but it’s hardly noticeable–my arms aren’t very hairy.

facial hair after 3-ish years HRT

My facial hair continues to do its thing.  It’s getting thicker and fuller, and filling in the blanks.  It’s going slowly, but it is happening.  I still keep a short beard, though lately I’ve been less meticulous about shaving the hair around my mouth, even though it’s not really “there” yet.  Since I’ve been so lax, though, I do have a picture to show you my facial hair development at this point.

Before testosterone, I could grow patchy sideburns and two thick patches on my chin.  I knew some guys who envied me for being fairly hairy pre-testosterone.  It might have been some consolation for them had they known that it doesn’t seem to have given me much more than a short-term advantage.  I have more hair than many cissexual men my age, and less than some who have been on HRT a much shorter time.  Fortunately, I am still young enough that my facial hair pattern is pretty typical, and it’s acceptable (if not exactly stylish) for twentysomethings to grow shitty proto-beards in my area.

Most of what I talked about here remains true for me.  I still haven’t disclosed to anybody at school, and I still have no plans to.  When trying on uniforms, I’ve been shirtless with other men in my program, and my chest either went unnoticed or unmentioned.  A few times, it’s come up that I give myself shots to maintain a normal testosterone level.  I’ve never needed to lie or contort the truth; I don’t have to fabricate stories.  I just don’t say “I was assigned female at birth.” and it’s that simple.

Unless something major changes, I absolutely intend to live an increasingly “stealth” life.  I feel more at-ease and friendly with acquaintances who don’t know I’m trans than with those who do.  I feel like I have a more professional relationship with those coworkers with whom I’ve never discussed it.

Basing a community around the assumption that I naturally belong in a category or community with other people who are trans/have transitioned is not only longer useful for me, but it actually seems to hold me back.  Having an area of my life in which I am completely “stealth” has made it easier for me to focus on other things.  I withdrew from spaces where the only uniting force among participants was the idea of transness.  I’ve funneled that extra free time into my hobbies, mainly reading and riding my bicycle.  Besides, most of my time and energy will soon be spent studying and working.

I’ve also become fairly confident that my future holds a hysterectomy (with the removal of one ovary, if not both of them) and radial forearm free flap phalloplasty, but that is the subject of another post.

March 2010

June 2010

June 2010 : almost 4 months off HRT

• I was feeling really burnt out on doing shots.
• I needed to find out if HRT was something that was necessary for me to feel right, or if I felt better without it, or somewhere in between.
• I wanted to confirm emotionally what I already knew cognitively–that my being perceived correctly (as male) isn’t tied to my maintaining normal testosterone levels.
• I didn’t want to elevate testosterone above other medications.  While it made my transition possible, at this point it mostly serves a maintenance function in my life and in my body.
• I was curious about the physical and emotional effects of discontinuing HRT, and how I would feel about them.  I wanted to know (to the extent that I could) what changes in my personality over the past few years were exclusively related to HRT.

I never noticed a drop-off.  It happened so slowly, I suppose, that I just never noticed.  I was neither more nor less tired.  I didn’t experience any spikes in dysphoria, anxiety, or depression.

Physically, I didn’t notice much in the way of changes.  My speaking voice didn’t change, although I found it easier to access higher notes when singing, and my falsetto range got better.  My facial and body hair grew just as fast and thick as it usually did, and might have continued to fill in.  I did notice that my skin was softer.

Of course, as I hardly noticed anything, certainly nobody else did.  I didn’t “de-transition” in any way.

My sex drive was definitely lower, though it certainly didn’t disappear.   I wasn’t as into porn, either.  There was no change in my erections.  There were some changes in scent and lubrication.

Overall, I was really into not being on HRT.  I felt less surly, and more emotional, though I think part of that was that I felt so happy not to be doing shots.  It was freeing not to have to think about it, not to have to do it.

Eventually, though, the freedom was replaced by anxiety over when I would menstruate.  I thought about that part of my body more than usual, and I was really dreading the event.  I began thinking about hysterectomy, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about menstruating, or about exams.

When I did eventually menstruate, I was pretty freaked out about it.  It didn’t feel right or tolerable.  I didn’t like the way my body felt, and I felt irritated and mad that I even knew what it was like to have a period.  The inconvenience and angst of menstruation (and of waiting for it to show up) definitely surpassed the inconvenience and angst about shots, so I gave myself a dose the day after i started my period.

That period was about 4 days long.  It took me a few shots before I got back on a regular schedule (I averaged a shot every 3 weeks).  Eventually, though, I started spotting when I was late.  I gave myself a shot then, prevented a full-blown period, and have been consistent with my dose since then.

I also noticed nothing when I began doing my shots again, except my sex drive fluctuates more with my shot cycle than it did before.  I figure that once my body adjusts and my trough t levels don’t go below the normal range, I won’t notice a difference.

On the whole, I’m glad that I discontinued HRT for a while.  As a result, I know that in the future I’ll probably want a low/no-maintenance endocrine system.  Switching to the Testopel implant would be one solution.

Another solution (most likely in addition to the above) might be a hysterectomy, either without salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of ovaries and Fallopian tubes), or leaving one ovary intact.  In theory, that would allow me to discontinue testosterone therapy either temporarily or permanently in the future, if I desire.  Leaving at least one functional ovary might prevent any loss of bone density from lack of sex hormone, although it comes with risk.

I particularly like the option of leaving an ovary intact.  A hysterectomy would be required for the phalloplasty procedure I’m considering, because it requires vaginectomy.

18 months post-op

The scars are now almost completely flat.  A couple of areas which gave me the most trouble during healing are still in the process of flattening out.  They have faded to pale pink and white, and seem to be fading more and more with time.  Some sections seem close to disappearing altogether.  Until this point, I have mostly avoided exposing the scars to direct sunlight, though I will probably switch to using sunscreen.

Areolar pigment is still returning–slowly but surely. I hardly notice, really. For a while, I was having issues with ingrown hairs, but they’ve settled down–now I have 5-7 hairs that actually grow through the areola. That used to bother me, but I don’t even notice anymore. The scars from the nipple grafts have completely disappeared, and my nipples aren’t as raised off of my chest as they had been. My nipples look and feel–to my at least–like nipples that had never been grafted.

Sensation is a trickier matter. My chest is not as sensate as the rest of my body, and not as sensate as it was before surgery. I don’t have any particular patches of numbness anymore. I have some sense of hot and cold throughout my chest. I can feel light and firm pressure through most of my chest–though the areas just above my incision lines, just below both my nipples, and right around my left nipple are hit and miss with light touches. Most of my chest can feel pain, though in the number areas it registers as a discomfort i can’t really place, rather than as pain. It’s a very strange feeling, and not one I enjoy.

My nipples aren’t completely insensate, but the sensations I get there are unpredictable, and not usually pleasant. I don’t usually feel hot/cold, and I sometimes can feel both light and deep pressure. At this point, though, my brain seem to just fill in the information I’m not actually getting, so I rarely notice that my nipples–or any sections of my chest–are insensate.

18 months post-op : left side

18 months post-op : left nipple

18 months post-op : right side

18 months post-op : right nipple

Aveed (the new name for Nebido/testosterone undecanoate) is still stuck in FDA limbo, and I’ve slowly started to prefer the idea of the implant to long-term injections.  Namely, Testopel would minimize highs and lows in my testosterone levels, and after the initial start-up cost, I suspect that the cost and maintenance would be about equal to (if not less than) Aveed or Cypionate.

However, I’m waiting to explore these options until this summer, when things with school and work have calmed down significantly.  If the doctor in my area won’t treat me, I’m fairly positive that the urologist in the next town over will.

Back then, though, I couldn’t escape it.  Every time I got dressed, or answered the phone, or introduced myself, I had to think about it.  Whenever I met someone new, I had to weigh the pros and cons of telling them.  If they knew, then there was a chance that they might respect my name and pronouns.  If they didn’t, I wouldn’t have to worry about being on the receiving end of transphobia, or suddenly being asked to do Trans 101.  That’s a lot to deal with when you  really just wanted to do some local volunteering.

Because it was such a big part of my life, and because cis people couldn’t really relate to most of the things I was going through, finding community with other trans people was a huge priority.  It was really affirming to go someplace and be asked what pronouns I use, or to not have people assume they heard me wrong when I introduced myself (“Kayla?”).

At the time, the most ideal situation I could imagine was to have somebody know that I was trans, and respect my identity anyway.  Today, things are completely different.  When I’m getting dressed, I don’t have to squeeze myself into a binder; I don’t think about whether the pattern of my shirts minimizes the size of my chest.  People automatically assign me the correct pronouns, and no one is surprised by my name when I introduce myself.

At first, it felt like I was getting away with something when people respected my identity.  I felt like I was “passing” as male.  Once the novelty wore off, though, I was simply left feeling comfortable.  Much of my social anxiety disappeared.  I still let most people I met socially know that I was trans, but it was primarily just out of habit.

I’ve gotten really used to being treated simply as male, without any scarequotes or footnotes.  And the longer I live this way, the more right it feels for me.  My transition is over for the foreseeable future, and my body dysphoria has lessened significantly since my chest surgery.  At this point, my trans-ness exists as a treatable medical condition that is essentially no different from male hypogonadism.

Eventually, disclosing my trans status (or having my trans status disclosed) to acquaintances started feeling less comfortable.  I began noticing that I was treated differently by folks who knew my medical history–and not in a way that made me feel more understood and respected.  I started to feel like it actually limited people’s ability to understand me.  For example, most folks (who don’t know I’m trans) attribute my femininity to my queerness.  So do I.  I look, speak, and act like an effeminate queer man because I am one.  Instead of taking my gender expression for what it is, many people who know my trans status assume that it’s really some sort of residual femaleness.

In actuality, I don’t feel that I ever was female, and I don’t think that most things have anything whatsoever to do with my transness.  But as soon as most cis people are made aware that my birth assignment isn’t what they had expected, they relate pretty much everything back to my being trans.  Learning “the truth” tends to bring them further away from really understanding and respecting me than they would’ve been had they not found out.

When I enrolled in school back in September, I enrolled without disclosing my history to anyone. It hasn’t come up, and it hasn’t felt relevant to bring it up.  Sure, there are lots of opportunities to tell people.  I just don’t see a reason to.  I get plenty of chances to talk about being a survivor of family violence, too, but that’s hardly ever relevant, either.  People can get to know me professionally and personally without ever knowing many intimate details of my life.  They might be surprised if they learn some of those things later on, but people are always finding out what happens when they make assumptions about other people’s experiences.

Not so very long ago, I thought that it’d be dishonest for me to interact closely with someone and not disclose–that I’d be hiding something, or lying about my past or present.  Instead, I feel like I’m being seen for who I am, without other people’s misconceptions about gender or transition getting in my way, for the first time in my life.  It feels great.

As my life has gotten busier, my involvement in local and online trans community is taking a backseat to other considerations.  I don’t know to what extent I’ll be “out” or “stealth” in the future, but I suspect I will always keep my medical history private at work in school.  At this point, most of my close friends know my history, but I can’t even remember the last time I disclosed to a cis person outside of an activism setting (actually, it was probably when I corrected my Social Security information).  If this trend continues, I might eventually find myself almost completely stealth.  It’s still not something I’m particularly looking for, but I’m certainly not opposed.

21 Months on Testosterone
voice clip : 1.5 years
voice clip : 2 years

I’m finally back in school, working towards an Associate’s Degree in Nursing at my local technical college.  My tuition and fees are covered by scholarships and the Pell Grant, and my Granny is giving me extra money each month so that I can afford to work less hours and go to school full-time.  I’ve not disclosed my trans status to anybody at school, and it’s been a really affirming and amazing experience so far.

I’m planning on writing a post at some point about my changing attitudes towards disclosure/non-disclosure.

I think that over the past few months, my body has changed some–it’s barely perceptible, but I’ve noticed.  My voice has lowered somewhat.  My usual speaking voice hasn’t changed, but I’m able to talk in a deeper register more comfortably these days.  Also, I’m able to hit lower notes when I’m singing now than I could a few months ago.

The hair above and below my lips is starting to fill in more darkly.  I should have a full beard before long.  These days, I tend to wear a short beard, with my mustache and “soul patch” shaved off.  I think it suits me pretty well–much better than the sideburns/goatee thing I wore for so long.  The beard is somehow more feminine, and I like the way it looks combined with my hair, which I’m growing out.

I got the results back from the lab work I had done in late September on the 4th day of my 10-day shot cycle; my serum testosterone level was 314 ng/dL, which is on the lower end of normal.  I’ve been on 100mg every 10 days for my entire time on HRT, so I’ve decided to experiment with a  140mg/10-day cycle (which is pretty close to the standard dose of 200mg/14-days) to see if I experience an increase in energy or a more stable mood.  I’ve only done one dose this way so far, so we’ll see how it goes.

13 Months on Testosterone

14 Months on Testosterone

We need to talk. That’s not quite accurate, actually. I need to talk, and you need to shut up and listen for a minute. Because some of y’all have been talking about me, and you’ve been talking so loudly that you haven’t been hearing what I’m saying. Some of you haven’t even noticed that I’m in the room.

You probably don’t know me. But a few of you seem to think you know everything you need to know. Enough to fill up chapters in academic texts or pages on your blogs. Enough to make fetishistic jokes or web comics. Enough to name my genitals for me

To be fair, y’all probably didn’t even realize you were talking about me specifically, most of the time. Thanks to testosterone and chest reconstruction surgery, you couldn’t pick me out of a crowd. But, make no mistake—you’re talking about my identity and my experience, too. And I’m tired of being made to feel invisible, or like I shouldn’t speak up about this stuff. So I’m going to offer a few suggestions, and give you yet another chance to respect my identity, and the identities of other people that you’ve been (unintentionally, I’m sure) stomping all over.

Now take a seat, because this might take a few single-spaced pages.  Maybe take a few notes this time, since you obviously forgot about the last thirty times we’ve had discussions like this.

First, in order to respect me, you need to work on completely deconstructing the conflation of masculinity and maleness. A lot of y’all have done some great and much-needed work around dismantling the bullshit idea that masculinity is the sole property of male people. But almost in the same breath, some of you seem to forget that there is nothing inherently masculine about maleness.

I’m male, but I’m not masculine-identified. At all. I don’t care how I look to you. I don’t care if you know that I’m trans. I don’t even care if you know that I identified as an andro dyke for a minute. I’m still not masculine. My experience is not a masculine experience. Period. If, for any reason(s) you think that I am, or if you don’t find it to be a big deal when my femme identity is invalidated, or if you know that I’m feminine, but—goshdarnit—you just keep forgetting? Then you need to check your shit.

Part of respecting me has to include calling bullshit on things that imply, whether directly or indirectly, that male people have inherent masculinity. At the very least, it requires that you notice when it happens. In case you’re confused, here are a couple of examples.

What about when people point out to y’all that it’s problematic to use the word “trans-masculine” to mean all female-assigned people who are masculine-identified, genderqueer-identified, and male-identified, and to exclude all male-assigned people—even masculine- or genderqueer- identified trans female people? I know, I know—“It’s impossible to find a word that will please everybody!” We’ve all heard that one before, right? Be quiet, you’re being divisive. Not to harsh your mellow, but I don’t want to be silenced any more than you do, especially when I can think of several alternatives to “trans-masculine” off the top of my head.

And, I know that lots of female-assigned-at-birth (FAAB) trans people use “transmasculine”. The trans community is only in the beginning stages of trying on new, accurate, and empowering language. We’re going to evolve, and you’re going to have to keep up, and listen to the discussions we’re having.  But, while we’re working on that, how about you stop saying “transmasculine”, if what you’re really trying to do is build a community around what you assume is in the pants of “transmasculine” people (or rather, what you assume isn’t in their pants). And that is what you’re doing, 95% of the time.

It’s important to a lot of folks (for various reasons of variable worth) to have an umbrella term to unite butches to genderqueers to trans guys and everything “in between”. But to say that “trans-masculinity” necessarily encompasses trans maleness is to shoot your trans-feminism in the foot.  Not all cis men are masculine. Many trans women are masculine, and there are many MAAB genderqueer folks who would fit comfortably under the “transmasculine” umbrella. And trans genders are as complex as, and deserve as much respect as, cis genders.

Of course y’all all know that in theory, but I need to see some action.

And when I say “action”, I definitely don’t mean like when “Top Hot Butches” showed up, and it included a metric shit ton of people who were assumed to be masculine, just because they’re male-identified. Oh, and one Riki Wilchins. I’m not sure what Riki Wilchins’ identity is currently, but how—when doing a project about “rejecting compulsory femininity”—is Wilchins theonly MAAB person on that list?

Seriously, why there weren’t way more masculine-identified and genderqueer-identified trans female people on that list? If anybody’s strength and beauty should be celebrated for “reject[ing] compulsory femininity”, in my opinion, it’s them. How many masculine cis female people do you know who have had their femaleness challenged in a meaningful way because they choose to exhibit “intentional masculinity” (and, no, being called “sir” in the checkout line does not count)?

I mean, if the primary criterion for “butchness” is “reject[ing] compulsory femininity”, I’m not sure why male people should even be on a list like that, since there’s nothing “compulsory” about male femininity. Even if the male person is trans. And there’s nothing necessarily “intentional” about trans male masculinity. I’m not even really sure what “intentional” means in that context, actually. Is FAAB masculinity more of a performance than any other gender expression (which can either be “not a performance at all” or “completely a performance”, depending on your views). If it’s not, then why is it mentioned?

The original “Top Hot Butches” appeared to be a celebration of what its author perceived as “butchness”. And—to me at least—it was damn clear that the author’s idea of “butchness” is about female masculinity—specifically, about FAAB masculinity. I hope I don’t even have to go into how fucked up it is to practically go out of your way to praise the masculinity of [trans] male people, while overwhelmingly ignoring the masculinity of [trans] female people.

And, you know what’s not a good excuse? This

I would love suggestions for more butch transwomen to include; I’ve been asking, and looking around, and I did include #84 Riki Wilchins, but surely there must be more than just her. I’m just not familiar with them. It’s so hard to include people you don’t know about, you know? Impossible, in fact. And who I know is completely related to my own standpoint. It’s a huge challenge to get a range of diversity on a list like this.

I find it hard to believe that they were personally familiar with all the FAAB folks they listed. And, even if they were, I think it says volumes about whose and what genders they perceive as “butch”, if they have just happened to never have stumbled upon the writings, activism, contributions, and hotness of masculine-identified MAAB trans people.

It’s a side step, and it avoids something that many folks in the “trans inclusive” queer women’s community need to own up to. If you don’t make space for MAAB trans people in your community, and none show up, whose fault is that? And whose responsibility is it to fix it?

But I don’t even believe for a second that “Top Hot Butches” was really about masculinity, anyway. Because no cis guy (feminine or masculine) would’ve been put on that list, but I have no doubt that—were I a semi-famous openly-trans guy—I’d have been considered for that list without a second thought. I think it’s a safe bet, since I’m pretty sure (at least) one of the guys included in the original list wouldn’t even identify his gender as masculine.

But trans genders are as worthy of respect as cis genders, right? Fortunately, I’m not naïve enough to have dared to hope that the Feministing community would back me up. Instead of calling out cissexism, y’all posted what seemed like a billion comments in which you didn’t notice that there was anything busted going on, or attempted to silence trans people who pointed it out, or—and this was my personal favorite—said shit to the effect of “I can see that this is problematic, but damn that list is hot”. Who doesn’t like their cissexism with a side of fetishism?

The link between masculinity and maleness may have been broken—but only for cis maleness and cis masculinity. I believe that a lot of y’all quietly believe that there is something intrinsically masculine about trans maleness—something that doesn’t exist in cis maleness. And, whatever that thing is, it apparently ties me to this idea of female[-assigned-at-birth] masculinity. And I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that it’s my hypothetical vagina.

That’s not respecting trans genders. That’s cissexism. And there’s no excuse for it. Not “we need more butch visibility”. Not “that’s not what they meant”. Not “[some] trans guys are a part of the community”. And definitely not “ think of it more as a celebration of bending gender norms, rather than a celebration of masculinity” (if you haven’t caught on, that’s fucked up, too). The fact that folks who consider themselves to be trans allies glossed over what amounts to blatant cissexist bullshit. . . it’s disgusting. Even more so because so many of y’all seemed to be overly willing to do so, simply because they liked the eye candy.

Why is it so important for y’all to claim a connection between “butchness”/female masculinity and trans maleness? Sure, connections often exist.  But you never seem to be talking about individual people’s experiences, and their unique relationships to their genders.  That is something to celebrate and honor within your community.  Instead, you’re conscripting all trans male people into your ideas of “butchness”, “trans-masculinity”, and “female masculinity”, without even considering the identities of those of us who are not masculine.

Just because you don’t see us, it doesn’t mean we’re not there. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can generalize the [valid] experiences and identities of the trans guys you do know onto the trans guys you don’t.

And, yes, after the outrage, the trans men were removed from the list.  Last I heard, they were being asked individually whether they’d like to be included.  The non-consensual gendering was an important issue that was appropriately addressed.  But the whole thing still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Just because many of the trans guys listed happen to be okay with being included doesn’t change the facts of why they were included to begin with.  Instead of being carefully chosen in a way that showed respect for their unique identities, they were chosen simply because they’re trans.  They would’ve been chosen even if they hadn’t wanted to be.

Perhaps all’s well that ends well?  But if you make a fucked up assumption about a group that I’m a member of, even if that assumption happens to be true for me?  I’m still going to think you’re an asshole.

This might also be a good time to mention that I’m genderqueer-identified. Does that surprise you? It seems like it should, considering that FAAB trans people who object to this shit are often portrayed as binary-identified, male-identified, cisgender*, not-radical, and “stealth” men of transsexual history. Many of whom don’t even consider themselves trans, much less queer.

But, no. I’m genderqueer. I’m genderqueer, and I’m telling you there’s a fucking problem. And one of these problems is subversivism. This shit is said with an eye roll. It’s a way of recognizing, but essentially dismissing concerns. Because all those things—male identities, nondisclosure, cisgender/binary identites—are automatically assumed to be backwards. Or, if not backwards, at least less evolved.

Lots of y’all seem to imagine that cisgender transsexual men are all so wracked with body dysphoria and internalized transphobia that they couldn’t possibly understand or respect other trans guys’ non-binary identities. Of course those guys have a problem with “transmasculine”, or that stupid list, or the creepy bullshit Margaret Cho has been spewing, etc. Most of the time, even when you admit that what you said/did/wrote was fucked up, it seems insincere. As if dissenters should be humored and shushed, so that everybody can go back to universalizing the experience of some trans people at the expense of others.

I’m not saying that cisgender trans men are all innocent victims; cisgenderism is a prevalent and serious problem among binary-identified folks (cis and trans). But there’s a difference between cisgenderism and people being pissed that you consider respecting their identities less important than drawing the lines of community where you want them, no matter who it hurts.

Since I’ve got your attention, we also need to talk a bit about the way some of y’all have been treating the complexity of genderqueer identities. Since it’s still so fresh in everybody’s minds, let’s take the “Top Hot Butches” list, for example. Some genderqueer people have butch or masculine identities. But many genderqueer people—even FAAB genderqueer people (me, for example)—wouldn’t identify their genders as “masculine” at all.

I highly doubt that the author of the list took the time to check to make sure that the genderqueer-identified folks on they included actually identified as butch/masculine. What seems to have happened is that they looked at the confetti of identities that make up genderqueerness, and decided, “Okay, so I know that some of y’all identify outside the binary and all that, but in reality you’re presenting as masculine (or male, which is really just hyper-extended masculinity), so we’ll just say that you present in a way that rejects compulsory femininity, and display some sort of intentional masculinity. For short, we’ll call that butch.

Maybe it goes without saying that, when y’all say “genderqueer”, it’s usually pretty safe to assume that you mean FAAB genderqueers. You mean those genderqueers you pretend to humor, but quietly consider women/female (despite the fact that many explicitly reject those labels). I’ll start believing that y’all respect my genderqueer identity once you start respecting (or even acknowledging) the genderqueer identities of MAAB genderqueer people.

This shit? It’s Not Okay. What you’re doing here—it’s Not Okay. And you’re doing it over, and over, and over again. And it’s exactly why I find so much of gender and queer theory to be a bunch of appropriative bullshit. My identities, my experiences, and my life is not an illustration in some cissexual exploration of “radical” gender and sex. Y’all need to work your transmisogynistic, biological-deterministic shit out, and then we can talk about the social and political implications of my transition. Maybe.

With hope, but no love,

Caleb

*I use “cisgender” in a way that many readers may not be familiar with.  I don’t find “cisgender” to be the corrollary to “transgender”.  While “transgender” is sometimes an identity word, it’s usually more of an umbrella term for gender and sexual minorities.  I think “cisgender” makes more sense as a corrollary to “genderqueer” (or gender-variant, or gender-nonconforming, etc.)—as a way to describe binary-identified or gender-normative people (both cissexual and transsexual).

I reject the assumption that all trans people challenge the gender binary, or bend gender, etc.  Some of us do, and some of us just see ourselves as men and women with a sexual history that really isn’t your business.  And I think that it’s an important way to illustrate that the genders of trans people have as much nuance as the genders of cis people.  We should all find ways to respect each trans person’s right to define how their gender relates to their sex.

6 months post-op

There are only a few tiny bits of my areola that are lacking pigment. Color is still returning, but more slowly than during initial healing. I actually got a zit/ingrown hair under my areola sometime last month.  It was really gross, and I got irrationally afraid of my nipple being fucked up permanently.  It’s fine now, of course, but I hope it never happens again.

6 months post-op : left side

6 months post-op : left nipple

6 months post-op : right side

6 months post-op : right nipple

I wonder how long it takes for newly-approved drugs to be covered by insurance companies.  I can only imagine how much each dose will/would cost me out-of-pocket.

But whatever it is, I’d find a way to pay it.  An 8-12 week shot cycle.  Can you imagine?!  That is–at minimum–two months without having to do the grunt work of maintaining this body.

I wonder sometimes, about what would happen if I just stopped doing shots.  Would I lose my beard?  My back hair?  Would my voice rise a bit?  Would I lose some of my belly?  Would I get weaker?  Would my anxiety increase?  Would I have a regular period?

I don’t know if I could handle menstruating again.  I didn’t mind it too much when I did it every month, but now the idea freaks me out, kind of a lot.

If a long-lasting injection isn’t an option, I’ve been looking into TestoPel, which is the only FDA approved testosterone pellet.  The only doctors who do it nearby are urologists.  They’re covered by my insurance, but I don’t know whether they would be willing to treat a trans male patient.  It would be quite expensive, considering I’d have to have a lot of blood work done at first, plus whatever the cost of the medication is and the cost of the procedure.  I’m going to get as much information as I can, though, because more options is better.  Supposedly, each dose can last up to 6 months.

Options like this would, I think, improve my quality of life significantly.

I automatically prickle when I see/hear/read someone who I assume (sometimes inaccurately, I’m sure) is a cissexual woman who passes as gender-normative say that they “used to identify as bisexual” but then started to identify as queer, because they “didn’t want to identify with a binary system of sexuality”.

Obviously, I’d never want to keep anybody from identifying their sexuality by whatever words they choose, for whatever motives.  But I think I’m starting to realize that I don’t find sexuality to be above criticism.  Of course, that didn’t sink in until I was the one being non-consensually objectified, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

I mention this a lot, but I have never once heard that tired “binary system of sexuality” shit about heterosexuality or homosexuality.  The folks I’ve known who now identify as queer after formerly identifying as bisexual tend to be either genderqueer themselves, or partners and close friends of genderqueer-identified people.

But I find myself hearing and reading it a lot from people who used to identify as straight/gay, but who find themselves dating or attracted to a trans person, regardless of whether the trans person’s actual gender identity is non-binary.

If I hadn’t worked through my internalized biphobia, I’d probably be identifying as “queer” instead of bisexual (clarification: I do describe my sexuality as “queer”, although I identify as bisexual), the same way I once identified as “lesbian” instead of bisexual.  And I’m positive that I’m not alone.  I didn’t spend much time with other queer women, but almost every lesbian-identified friend I had was secretly bisexual.  We/they just didn’t want the invisibility and invalidation bisexual women face, within and outside the queer community.

I also have seen it a lot from queer women who either have a Thing for [early-/non- medically transitioning] trans guys, (again, regardless of the trans person’s actual gender identity).  I think that it’s probably at least a little bit about biphobia, but it often ends up invalidating the maleness of cisgender trans guys.  If those trans guys were really male to them, then I doubt I’d have to read this little aside about them doing their part to smash the binary by being open to dating a trans person.  They’d actually have to figure out what their attraction to men means for them and their sexualities, and what it means for their communities.  I think it’s just a lot easier to ungender trans men than it is to work through their own shit.

I know people who are exceptions to this, of course.  But I’ve been around awhile.  Long enough to notice a trend.

One reason that I’m pulling away from trans spaces for a while is to get away from cis people talking about cis issues as they pertain to trans people.  I have my own internalized transphobia to deal with.  I have to disentangle it from my genderqueer identity.  It’s fucking hard to do that when everywhere I look, cisgender trans people are being ungendered in the name of genderqueer politics.  I need to deal with internalized homophobia and biphobia again–because it’s different now that I’m perceived as male.  And it’s really hard to do that when attraction to trans people (cisgender and genderqueer) is making people “queer”.

If I don’t somewhat shield myself from other people’s bullshit, how can I ever live my truth as a queer* genderqueer** trans*** man****?

Also, can we all just STFU about how we feel about other people’s genitals, namely factory-issue dicks?  It’s not cute, or funny, and doesn’t make you a more authentic member of your sexual identity.  It comes across as derogatory towards the people who love (and have!) those genitals, and dismissive of the genital dysphoria of your [other] trans friends–who might not have genital dysphoria, but sure as fuck wouldn’t tell you if they did.

* my sexuality; my attraction to people’s bodies and identities on their own terms; unrelated to my trans status or genderqueer identity
** my gender identity and expression; my claiming my right to femininity as a man, a queer man, and a trans man; NOT my past, present or future body
*** the history of my body; my dysphoria and the steps I’ll always be taking to lessen it
**** my privilege, whether or not it was my birthright; acknowledgement of my institutional power over women, and over those who can’t/don’t/won’t “pass” as cissexual