I want to talk about what I call my “homesickness”.
I have this lifelong, persistent feeling of being homesick. When I’m breaking down, crying and unable to think, the thought that keeps popping up, one of the things that will come out of my mouth without me even knowing why, is “I want to go home”.
Except I’m not longing for my actual home, or even any past home I’ve had. I’m longing for somewhere, something, that I’ve never found. When I cry out between sobs “I want to go home”, I’m crying out for a home I’ve never known.
You know, there are a lot of trans people in their mid-thirties now who just came out in the past three or four years, and I don’t think a lot of people realize quite why that is.
When I was growing up in the 80’s and 90’s in the middle of nowhere, being gay was something that “happened” to “big city folks”, people literally thought I was just lying for attention when I came out as bi in the early 90's.
Being transgender (or transsexual as most people knew it then) was not only unheard of, the rare person who…
The #MeToo movement has been a powerful force for awareness of sexual violence, and a movement that has meant a lot to me personally. Until October 16th, 2017, I had never told anyone about my own experience with sexual assault, but seeing the flood of “Me too” on my Facebook feed inspired me to finally speak up.
I started small, just a “Me too.” posted on Facebook, like so many other women. Too many. That started a talk with my wife about it in more detail. I hadn’t really put a lot of it into words until then. I shared…
I’ve been thinking lately about a girl I dated back when I was around 13 or 14. She was kind of a tomboy, she had an awkward deep-ish voice, a lot of guys made fun of her saying she looked like a guy, saying they thought she was a lesbian, stuff like that.
These days I’m sure most guys would have assumed she was trans. I’m fairly sure she wasn’t, but I didn’t even know transitioning was actually possible back then. If she had been, I wonder how she would have reacted to knowing that deep down, I was too…
Imagine an animal that has grown up in a cage for its entire life. One day, it escapes, experiences freedom for the first time. If you throw it back in that cage, it’s going to be miserable.
But it’s not that it wasn’t miserable in the cage before; it just didn’t realize it, because it had no other experiences to compare it to.
That’s my experience with gender dysphoria. I survived 34 years of pretending to be male because I didn’t have any other experience to compare it to. I knew something felt wrong about it, but I couldn’t understand…
“I don’t care if my opinion offends people when my opinion is based in reality.”
I see that claim far too often, usually from people who are using “reality” as code for “nothing I haven’t personally experienced.” Usually when they’re saying something in direct opposition to what all scientific evidence suggests. Always as justification for remaining ignorant.
Transgender people have existed since at least the beginnings of recorded history. The terminology may have changed, but the facts haven’t. Scientists are still figuring out exactly how it happens, but the fact that it exists is no more “opinion” or “up for debate” than evolution or gravity.
Simply put, “transgender is a mental illness” is the new “evolution is just a theory.” It’s just pseudo-science to support bigotry and avoid learning.
It wasn’t until my mid-thirties that I accepted myself for who I am.
Growing up, I’d always seen myself internally as a girl, and I made very little effort to hide it. I had to put up with being called a boy of course, and I didn’t have the words to argue with it. But I tried not to let it stop me from expressing myself as I wanted.
Like many closeted trans girls of my generation, I got into the goth and punk subcultures to “excuse” having long hair, long nails, painting my nails, wearing makeup, etc. …
I grew up being mocked for being a girl.
I never felt attractive enough, I starved myself to try and be more attractive. I felt so disgusted with myself when I looked in the mirror because I’d never be as cute as the girls on TV.
I hurt myself in horrible ways, because I hated myself. I’ve probably used a razor on skin more than I’ve used one on hair.
Other girls commiserated with me, many of them had gone through similar things themselves. …