My best friend is trans

A month or two ago, my bestie told me he had some gender issues. About a week later, he sent me a text that basically said “Wow, it just hit me like a truck. I’m a trans man.” His new name is Jack. All of this is pretty awesome. =]

Jack and I have been friends since.. 7th grade? Ish? Probably about seven years, now. We were friends with another person who came out as trans while we knew them and Jack didn’t handle it very well at the time. So, when I realized I had an atypical gender, I was worried I would lose his friendship. (I sort of did, for a few months.) I asked him about this after he came out to me recently and he said he had been bitter at us for coming out and taking the leap that he couldn’t. It blew my mind a little that Jack’s been aware of a gender dysphoria since way back then, but also made sense in a way.

Amusing anecdote: I used to call Jack “lady” in some contexts, like ‘Hey, lady, what’s up?’ About six months ago I stopped doing so; I would start to in a text and then delete it because it seemed off. I told Jack that story and that my spidey-sense picked up on his transness. Which he thought was funny. :p

Anyway, it’s kind of weird to be on this side of someone coming out. And having it be my best friend of seven years. Continue reading “My best friend is trans”


I’ve been meaning to but not writing for almost two weeks. I don’t know why, but I’m feeling weird tonight. It’s one of my only times to be alone in the house (excepting the cats, of course) and when I’m alone I’m a little more poignantly aware of when I don’t feel great.

I’m just sort of.. anxious? I don’t know. There are still things I Should Be doing, lots of things I’ve been putting off for a long time.

Taking Adderall has been sort of helping my brain with organization and stuff. I haven’t been suicidal. I’ve only had a couple mysteriously Very Very Bad days, and I’ve been doing a much better job of recognizing triggers and working myself down afterward.

There’s a lot of shitty stuff going on at work right now. Mainly involving one coworker, who is now a boss, who I’ve had plenty of trouble with in the past. She has a tendency to be abusive (from constant micro-aggressions, all the way to yelling at people), to try to strong-arm people into doing what she wants, and to take her authority too far. The area manager (who is basically the in-charge person because we’re between store managers right now) is currently indisposed because his father just died. Continue reading “Blerg”

Dear Steve: If only it were that easy

Someone called Steve commented on a recent post of mine: Constant misgendering and clothing. Oddly, even though it’s available over here at WordPress, the comment is on the Blogger page. Anyway, here’s what Steve had to say:

“Just a suggestion… to each their own, obviously…

Defining oneself by whatever convenient label comes along ( ‘gay’, ‘straight’, ‘bi’, or even ‘genderqueer’), and using this as a basis of making decisions about how we should dress, or look, or feel about ourselves… might generally be a mistake.

Be who you are… do what you love… wear what you like.

Leave the labels to the haters.”

Steve, you get your own blog post in response to this comment! Your timing is pretty great, as I’ve been having similarly frustrating conversations lately. To be honest, the ignorance behind your statement has upset me. So when I respond and it sounds like I’m angry, it’s because I am. Continue reading “Dear Steve: If only it were that easy”

Constant misgendering and clothing

When I first found out I had genderweirdness, I thought I was trans*. So I started dressing like a dude and wearing dude deodorant and all that. Then, after figuring out I’m genderqueer, I still went a really long time without wearing skirts or dresses or anything.

I’ve been wearing dresses and skirts a lot more lately.

At first I was doing it because I know Degon likes it and I enjoy doing things he likes. (Plus, if it gets me laid once in a while I’M NOT COMPLAINING.) For a long time it was still really uncomfortable but I would still do it once every couple months. NEVER outside the house, though.

More often, then finally outside the house. Then enjoying being Degon’s “sexy wife” in public where people could see us. Reveling in the incitement of jealousy and the acknowledgement that this body I have is quite attractive. Continue reading “Constant misgendering and clothing”

I still do ‘womanly’ things

I’ve been talking about my gender a bit lately and how I tend on the masculine end of the binary. (I only reference a binary because the majority of people set up their concepts of gender in that way, and it makes it easier to base it off of that system.) I consider myself closer to the ‘man’ end of the spectrum than the ‘woman’ end of the spectrum.

Some of my behaviours may seem contrary to my gender identity. For example, I just shaved my legs. I still shave my armpits, sometimes my pubic hair, I wear normal bras occasionally, I’m wearing a skirt right now.

These are behaviours I mainly picked up while I was being socialized as a woman. I actually butted heads with my mom for several years about shaving my legs before she gave me the ‘ok’. (Although why I thought I needed her permission, I have no idea.) I wanted to incredibly badly. I can’t exactly remember why, but I did.

When I came out as a trans* man, I stopped shaving my legs and pits and all that. I went from mostly feminine hygiene habits to masculine ones. Since coming back to a more middle position in terms of gender, I have maintained some of those masculine habits, but I have also gone back to doing some of the feminine ones.

Why? Continue reading “I still do ‘womanly’ things”

On Being Attractive

Just to start, I want to be clear that I’m not a conceited person. Generally, I don’t think super highly of myself and that’s something I’m working to change. I’m often confused as to why people like me, why they talk to me, why they love me. In my trying to understand that stuff, I have to be able to look at myself and my characteristics without my Subjectivity Lens. This is partly an exercise in that and partly just some random thoughts.

When I was little, people would tell me I was cute or pretty or something. After a couple years of this, I would respond somewhat impatiently with “I know” and all the adults around me would chuckle at my reply. Of course I was too young to understand that saying “I know” is not a gracious response to being complimented nor that it sounded conceited of me. I understood that there was something sort of wrong about it, something in the tone of the adults’ laughter that indicated I had made a social misstep.

But, really, seriously, I was just tired of hearing it. My physical appearance was not something I worried about until gender dysphoria hit me like a truck a few years ago. I didn’t really care what people thought about how I looked because I hadn’t really thought about how I looked. And it’s entirely possible that being constantly assured that I’m cute contributed to me not giving it much thought. It probably also helps that I was never made fun of for my physical appearance by my peers (or adults).

That short-lived habit of saying “I know” has shaped how I view my physical appearance.

I went from basically not caring at all about how I looked to begrudgingly acknowledging my overall attractiveness. I really started to care when I was presenting male–being told I was a cute boy was basically the best thing anyone could say. (It’s still a pretty awesome thing to say; in fact I’m sure I prefer compliments on my sexy masculine characteristics to my feminine ones.)

The only thing that’s consistently bothered me about my appearance over the last couple years is me having boobs. But I’ve talked about that a lot before. It’s not so much of an issue now because I plan on getting rid of them someday and knowing that makes dysphoria a lot easier to deal with. And anyway, the problem with my boobs doesn’t have a lot to do with other people looking at me. I mean, yeah, it’s related and matters a little, but for the most part it’s my psychological discomfort and personal preferences about my appearance.

Over the years, I’ve continued to get compliments on my looks. I’ve been pretty reassured the whole time that I’m attractive, even if I’ve never cared or bought into the notion.

So I’ve accepted it as more-or-less true. There certainly are days when I feel totally sexy and I’m okay with flaunting my femme characteristics because they’re there and they’re nice.

Okay, so if I weren’t the person living in the head of that body…. that would be sexy. It might be about time to admit that I’m actually pretty damn hot.