I’m queer, poly, and trans. What on earth was I doing with a white cis het monogamous dude?
I was trying to be normal!
I’m queer, poly, and trans. What on earth was I doing with a white cis het monogamous dude?
I was trying to be normal!
Coming out, little by little. Friends, sibling… no one is really surprised. I wish I knew my folks would be so blasé.
One of my oldest friends reiterated something I’ve heard so often: “I’ve never really thought of you as gendered. You’ve always just been you”.
Heh
Interesting writing guide: THE RADICAL COPYEDITOR’S STYLE GUIDE FOR WRITING ABOUT TRANSGENDER PEOPLE
I started shaving my face. Not because I need to (yet), but because it makes me ludicrously happy.
Appointment with the endocrinologist next week. I’m nervous.
It’s one of those things that weighs sort of heavy on me. I’m probably aromantic, meaning I don’t make deep connections with partners, but I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever have a partner again because I’m trans and beginning my transition.
When I said it out loud for the first time to my brother, Mikey — “I think I’m transgender” — I was weeping. “I’m afraid no one will ever love me again.”
Being trans is a nerve-wracking combination of glorious elation over finally being your true self and horrible stress and guilt over how other folks are/will be affected by it.
Case in point: talks have begun with kiddo after she called me a drag king. I’m trying to baby-step it as much as possible, but she’s a little emotional about it. I only start T in a few weeks (I hope), and the changes aren’t drastic, so I can afford to take my time with her and show her that she’s not losing a mom at all and that, weirdly, I’ll probably be more comfortable doing girlier things once my body is more male.
Now “politically incorrect” is closer to saying something like “I denounce you for having said something which we no longer say in polite company. You are therefore a bad person and should be publicly shamed, not to mention silenced.”
“Don’t make assumptions.”
…when I first started coming out as a transgender man to my friends and family, someone asked me, “But who’s going to love you?” At the time, I didn’t know how to respond; I was afraid of the answer. I did know, however, that I had no choice. I was choosing to love myself, even if it meant nobody else would.