Long ago and far away, when I was a man

Long ago and far away, when I was a man

Long ago and far away from here and now, when I was a boy I met a girl. She said she was bisexual, like me. We dated. I fell in love with her.
One night when we were drunk and traveling she confessed that she was really homosexual, and didn’t feel right with being with me.
She broke my heart, but in a way I am glad it ended when it did because if our relationship had gone on longer the crash of its dissolution would have been even more painful than it was.
The truly ironic thing is that now I too am a lesbian (well still bisexual really), and have been with my wife for a happy 12 years now.

Gender: an identity?

Gender: an identity?

I have noticed my gender identity didn’t really fit with my societal norms around puberty. This was a point where, instead of people saying,
“who’s that fat kid over there,” ey would say:
“Is that a girl or a boy?”
Later, they mostly just assumed whatever they wanted.

I was given an androgynous name at birth. By this trait, when I changed high schools in freshman year my peers at my new school were at odds with how to appraise my gender. I wound up making the most lasting friendships with others that in some way were not easily categorizable, or others that were interested in me because I peaked eir curiosity.

As a child, many of the toys I like were “construction” oriented. Construction type toys such as blocks are given to be categorized as male in our society, and as such were consider gender appropriate to my assigned sex of male. I also had an inordinate fondness for stuffed animal toys as a child, and played with an Israeli girl whose father shared an interest in chess with my father. When we would play together, it was only following the taunts of other children that I ever considered that my gender expression was anything other than normal.

I began to deeply examine gender and its component parts during a period of time transitioning from living as a male to living as a female. Reading the book “Whipping Girl” by Julia Serrano it became clear to me through her biological analytical perspective that each discrete trait could be assigned a gender, and that gender was arbitrary from society to society. I concurrently read “Gender Outlaw” by Kate Bornstein, which suggested one use what ever gender best suited the needs of the moment, to oversimplify it.
Every trait that could be defined, and when assigned to every society there is, shows no trait is patently female or male.
Therefor, while my gender may not conform exactly to the society in which I live or any other society, it is my unique identity. My traits are just my traits, and they do not derive from gender. My gender is just a tool for people to try and define me so that they make presume many modes of interaction and aspects of character; it is for convenience of thought only and should not be used as a true description. Gender may suggest typical commonalities, but gender cannot define that person.

Dreamy drunk ass bitch

Dreamy drunk ass bitch

I live a contemplative life. I journal. I’ve kept a sketch book since I was 17. I have a phd therapist. I also have an attending MD for anti- anxiety meds. I’m a functional alcoholic, with a strong taste for hops and tequila. I have a strange and compulsive mental addiction to cannibis flowers. I’m chronically depressed and gender dysphoric. Gender exhausts me. All gender feels like performance, but when I cross the line from my given gender I feel strangly free. All of a sudden I am comfortable enough to be myself. I read recently that someone felt like being a girl was fake, and being a boy was fake too but felt more comfortable. After having officially switched my gender from feminine man to average to slightly butch woman, I realize that taking that jump was necessary to really going all the way to being free to express myself no matter how I may feel. I would not conform to anyone’s stereotype.

Phantom Body

Phantom Body

Wanting without the possibility of satisfaction.

For years, I would get up in the morning and be miserable because I wanted a female body, but was stuck in a male body. As I have transitioned to living as a woman full time, and my body slowly shifts to being more feminine this pain of want slowly lessens. It lessens from all areas except the nether region.
In my mind I can feel the female genitalia between my legs. My PC muscles tighten. I squeeze where I long to feel my lover inside me.
It is strange. It is as if my mind has a body map that is doubled up where my shame a source of anguish reside..
It is strange. It is as if my mind has a body map that is doubled up where my shame a source of anguish reside.

When I was six

When I was six

My grandfather would routinely give me presents  in a small box. It was hung on the wall of the garage where he and Edythe, my grandma lived. He was retired, and would go out walking around the neighborhood in the morning. He would scavenge the area and pick up random trinkets and tools for me. Often he would get me trading cards for the American Football League. I was never really interested in football dispute this. Since we did not have TV at my house, I would spend Friday night at their house. In the morning I would watch cartoons while Grandma made pancakes or biscuits. In the afternoons we would watch whatever my Grandpa sports on TV, usually baseball or football. I could understand baseball. It had a rule set that I could grock. The play had a long simmering tension, persistently churning forward. The battle between pitcher and batter, outfielders and infielders. The rules and finer points of football always eluded my comprehension.