The Invisible girl

Gender should not be dictated by our genitals

I’ve just returned from a friend’s house where a rather heated argument regarding trans* identity broke out. It was I against three people. I didn’t want to argue, but I just couldn’t help myself.

One of my mates turned the channel over to Big Brother. I never wanted them to put it on in the first place, as I knew that there was a transsexual man on the show this year, and that the people I was with would more than likely make some sort of bigoted remark toward him.

My fears were correct, as the three people with me began referring to this guy as a “she”. They also began to refer to him as a weirdo too, which was just too cruel for my ears to take. I couldn’t endure it any longer; I just had to correct them on their pronouns and insults. I told them that he identifies as a man, he lives as a man and therefore he is a man, regardless of his initial birth assigned gender.

Without a moment’s hesitation, they pounced on me like wolves; telling me that I was wrong in my claims. I tried to tell them that someones birth genitals and biology does not necessarily define them as simply a man or a woman.

They retorted by telling me that biology determines everything in regards to their gender, and that is - according to them - a stone cold fact which cannot be changed. I tried with all my might to tell them that gender expression and gender identity is so much more than this. I wanted them to see that humans are more than just their chromosomes and genitals. Sadly, my words fell upon deaf ears.

I couldn’t sway their world view. These three people were convinced that I was deluded. “Everything’s based on science” they said, “and science says that the person on the [television] screen is a woman!”

This is a cruel assumption. This traditional idea of the male and female binary is not simply what makes a person a boy or a girl. People must move away from this habitual beleif that sex and gender are the exact same thing. Yes, a majority of us are assigned a specific gender by our doctors at birth, but that doesn’t make it official or final.

It really does saden me. All this talk of “people with penises are men, people with vaginas are women” is merely oppressing the freedom of gender expression and gender identity. Let people live in the gender that they want to live in, despite the goddamn organ that happens to exist between their legs. What’s downstairs is no one elses bleeding business anyway!

I’d truely love for my friends to be able to understand gender diversity in the way that I do. But every time this goddamn subject pops up, I get offended and we end up arguing about it.

It’s a shame, because it means that if I do decided to start living as a woman, they’ll probably never accept me as one. They know that I was born a “guy”, therefore they’ll forever ignore my desired identity based on my DNA.

As my friend drove me home, I just wanted to burst into tears. I was seconds away from just admitting “I’m transgender. That’s why I was distressed by what you were saying.”

I was so close to blurting it out, but I backed out at the last second. I decided that coming out to my friend whilst upset and mad was not the right way to go about this situation.

So now I’m back at home and I feel like dirt. Whenever I have these arguments with people I feel so hopelessly alone in the world. I bet they’re all bitching about me now: saying how daft my claims were.

I just wish that they could understand that peoples identity should not be solely defined by their genitals. Surely in the 21st century, people can be more open minded about such subjects. I just hope, that one day, societies perceptions toward gender will evolve and reshape themselves for the better.

Everyone’s beautiful

The other day, I wrote a rather dismal post that involved me jealously moaning about a teenage trans* girl who I thought was far better looking than me. Looking back on that blog now has made me realise just what a rude and selfish fool I was being. I say this because today I’ve realised that absolutely everyone is beautiful, despite what they might think.

I understand that this may sound like one of those clichéd ridden, feel-good blogs, and perhaps it is, but that doesn’t make my my words any less valid. I earnestly believe that whether you’re overweight, underweight, short, tall, hairy, hairless, scruffy, tidy, muscular, puny, masculine or feminine; we’re all extraordinarily gorgeous in our own unique and wonderful ways.

People may judge you for the way that you might look, but their opinion isn’t factual. They have no evidence to back their words up with. Just because a neighbour or a friend might think that you’re weird looking or unappealing does not mean that they’ve uncovered some universal truth. Those people are not your designer and they didn’t create the concept of beauty. They just happen to possess an opinion of what is fetching and what is the opposite. Their perspectives are not universal and there shall always be people who disagree with them.

Even if a large proportion of society beleives that someone is considered ugly, it doesn’t make them right. Many people were once convinced that the world was flat, yet look how wrong that turned out to be. You don’t see professors of geology going “well all evidence suggests that the earth is spherical in shape, but then to counter that, people did say that it was flat.” Of course they don’t. They simply admit that everyone was completely wrong.

At university, there was a young girl named Lilly. Lilly was a 20 year old trans* woman who was often mocked and criticised for “not being feminine enough”. Her housemates called her ugly and some people even got annoyed that she “didn’t make a convincing enough female”. But guess what? I saw her, and they were wrong! She was an attractive girl. So what if she didn’t totally “pass” in the conventional birth-assigned-female way. She made a good looking woman. Girls most certainly do not need to be 100% feminine to look good; they look great in every shape and size.

Society has built this paradigm of what is ugly and what is beautiful. The social engineers of society (e.g. TV, films, parents, peers, teachers and magazines) have fed us this dumb lie that a certain type of girl is beautiful; whilst anyone who doesn’t match their criteria is apparently unworthy of attention. What a pathetic little lie this paradigm is. Yes, the slim and feminine women in these magazines and films do look fantastic, but so does every other girl.

And for that matter, every single gender that exists looks fantastic. This is not just a “girls are beautiful” post. Every goddamn human looks superb in one way or another.

If anyone out there feels like crap because some heartless fool called them fat, manly, ugly or whorish, tell them to get stuffed. People criticise others no matter what they look like.

I get criticised all the time; no matter how I look.

Back in 2008 I was fifteen stone, whereas today I’m ten stone. Back then, my friends use to call me fat. They told me that I needed to get to the gym, that I should buy some bigger clothes and that I must quit the booze before I get fatter. Today, however, my friends’ say I look ill. They insist that I stop exercising so profusely, that I need to start purchasing clothes for a slimmer build and that I need to get a goddamn Guinness down my throat before I curl over and die.

But screw them; I like my new slim look. I love working out, eating healthily and coming across as more feminine. They may not like it, but then I’m not doing it for them; I’m doing it all for me. And if I get big again, well so what. I enjoyed myself when I was fifteen stone. I ate well and I enjoyed my booze. Doesn’t matter what my friends and enemies thought about me. It’s not their goddamn body!   

So on the whole, my self-pitying blog from several days ago is a load of old tosh. Whether you’re cis or trans*, everybody looks bloody fabulous, including me. Does that make me a self-loving fool? Why yes it does, but then everyone should feel that way about themselves, because they’re goddamn incredible!

Remember that judgements are light years away from facts; they’re just the by-products of idiots who can’t keep their silly traps shut.

Useful Resources, vol. 2: Films

This is the second entry in a series of posts dedicated to the different types of resources which have helped me come to terms with being trans*.

In this post, I look at the films which I believe help to portray transgender people in a more positive manner than the stereotype-enforcing programmes such as The Jerry Springer Show.

There are movies which often like poking fun at individuals who cross society’s gender boundaries. Sometimes, films simply enjoy generating humour from the concept of crossdressing (Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire/Tony Curtis & Jack Lemmon in Some Like it Hot), whereas at other times, they tend to feel the need to reinforce negative stereotypes and myths aimed at trans*people (The Hangover: Part II springs to mind).

At times, I perceive this kind of fun making as just some daft attempt at humour on the writers behalf. At other times, however, I find myself offended at such on screen mockery, wondering why on earth the filmmakers decided to revive such ignorant myths.

However cinema isn’t always a negative environment for Trans* people. In fact, I’ve come across numerous features which happen to be quite positive toward our community. Here are some examples.

Soldier’s Girl (2003)

A film which apparently receieved little publicity upon it’s release. Soldier’s Girl is based on the true story of the relationship between US Soldier Barry Winchell and transgender showgirl Calpernia Addams. In 1999, Winchell was brutally beaten to death by one of his fellow comrades. The murder took place because of Barry’s relationship with a trans* woman.

This is a truly heartbreaking tale which explores the hatred and ignorance which flows throughout our society. Barry was just a young kid who happened to fall in love with a transgender woman, yet because of the discrimination and lack of understanding which circulated amongst his colleageus, he lost his life at the early age of 21.

This is also a film which heavily criticises the revolting ‘dont ask don’t tell policy’ that was still in existence during the time of Barry’s murder, explicitly showing the effects which such a policy can have on American soldiers.

This film can be tough going, and if you’re sensitive to violence then maybe this isn’t for you. But nevertheless, Soldier’s Girl is a beautiful film which explores the love between two people, as well as the hatred of those who were unwilling understand them.

I saw this film about a year and a half ago and it still haunts me to this very day.

Different for Girls (1996)

During their school years, Karl Foyle and Paul Prentice were the best of friends. Karl was forever bullied due to his suspected sexuality; so Paul took it upon himself to protect him in the playground.

After school ended, the two lost contact with one another. Many years later, however, Paul bumps into his old friend, only to discover that Karl is now Kim.

Different for Girls focuses mainly on its two core protagonists rebuilding their long faded friendship, as well as the prejudice and misunderstandings that Kim faces from both society and even Paul himself.

On one level the film examines some of the problems which trans* women face in modern day society, whilst on another it explores the friendship and love between two very different individuals.  

It manages to be both a light hearted comedy and a social commentary all in one. The film is also smart and respectful enough to not revert to paranoid myths and hurtful stereotypes.

Whilst Soldier’s Girl acted as a tough examination into the love and hatred that members of our society can have toward one another, Different for Girls plays out more as a feel good movie; reminding its viewers that despite the troubles which some may receive from the world around them, they can still find the respect and belonging they deserve from those that are nearest to them.

Beautiful Boxer (2004)

This film chronicles the life story of Muaythai boxer Parinya Charoenphol and her journey to becoming Nong Toom.

Beautiful Boxer explores being transgender in the most fastidious manner imaginable: covering the subject in far more detail than any other film that I’ve seen before it.

During the early stages of the story, we see Toom as a young child, slowly growing more aware of where her real gender identity really lies. She’s been born as a birth assigned male, yet despite what gender her parents tell her to be, she just wants to be a girl.

As the narrative develops, the film begins to explore Toom’s boxing career; showing her notoriously adopting a crossdressing style to her boxing matches, as well as both the difficulties and support which she receives from her fellow fighters.

Finally, the story wraps up with Toom receiving the acceptance that she’s long needed from her father, allowing her to finally become the person that she’s always wanted to be.

Like the previous two films discussed, this is yet another touching and well thought out film that has a lot of respect for its subject matter. Not once does the film poke fun at Toom and neither does it resort to stereotyping her.

What I enjoyed the most about Beautiful Boxer was its biographical approach to Toom’s story. Instead of simply selecting a segment from this woman’s life, we are shown it from childhood to present; allowing viewers to observe and understand the struggles of a transgender person from several different stages of their life.

Beautiful Boxer delivers a rich level of empathy toward this character in an educational, entertaining and well executed manner.

The Crying Game (1992)

This isn’t really a transgender film in itself, as the story covers more than just the gender identity of Dil. In the years since The Crying Game hit theatres, its story has often been overshadowed by the infamous revelation sequence that occurs at the films halfway mark. The overall meaning behind this picture, however, is that of unconditional love and the anguish of guilt.

The film is a philosophical love story revolving around Fergus – an IRA member – who befriends one of his prisoners: Jody. After his death, Fergus decides to fulfil Jody’s wish by locating Dil - his lover from England – to tell her that he was thinking of her during his final moments. 

When Fergus finally locates Dil, the two begin to develop a relationship between one another. Both characters, however, have secrets which the other is unaware of.

The Crying Game’s major plot twist is that Dil turns out to have been born a birth assigned male: a truth which is revealed in a rather overt manner.

Even though the character of Dil is often portrayed as somewhat promiscuous and exotic in nature, she’s also respectfully represented as a complex human being with a rich and enigmatic persona.

I like the well-rounded aspect that the film gives to Dil’s character and The Crying Game never once turns her into some kind of 2-demensional stereotype. From start to finish, Dil is portrayed as a human being and not a mythical caricature.

Unlike the previous films discussed, this one doesn’t exactly explore themes relating to what it’s like to be transgender. Instead The Crying Game is a story that has a lot of heart, a great insight into what it means to love and features some truly incredible performances from Jaye Davidson & Stephen Rea.

Transgender cinema is not the biggest of genres currently on the market, yet it’s one that seems to be gradually growing. Although many films have laughed at this subject in the past, there are also features out there that help to portray trans* people in a positive light; promoting some of the struggles and qualities of this lifestyle to mainstream culture.

Other transgender themed films that have received positive reviews (but I have yet to watch):

Boys Don’t Cry (1999)

The story of the life of Brandon Teena, a transgendered teen who preferred life in a male identity until it was discovered he was born biologically female (plot summary from: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0171804/) .

Normal (2003)

TV movie about a Midwestern husband and father announces his plan to have a sex change operation (plot summary from: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338290/).

Breakfast on Pluto (2003)

In the 1970s, a foundling lad, Patrick “Kitten” Braden, comes of age by leaving his Irish town for London, in part to look for his mother and in part because his transgender nature is beyond the town’s understanding (plot summary from: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0411195/).

Transamerica (2004)

A pre-operative male-to-female transsexual takes an unexpected journey when she learns that she fathered a son, now a teenage runaway hustling on the streets of New York (plot summary from: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0407265/).

Useful Resources, vol. 1: Books

Thank goodness for the internet. I honestly don’t know how the previous generations managed it. If it wasn’t for the World Wide Web then I’d probably still be sitting around endlessly inventing daft excuses for why I am the way I am.

But thanks to the time period that I happened to have been born into, the internet has been my bread and butter. On that memorable December morning in 2009 – when I admitted to myself that I was transgender – the first thing that I did was jump onto my laptop and began searching for advice.

Soon enough, I uncovered endless pages with links to a diverse range of resources: ranging from books, podcasts, forums, advice columns and even films.

This post is set to be the first in a series of entries dedicated to some of the different resources that have helped me over the years.

In this entry, I shall be listing some of the books which I found to be of great use during my earlier days of self-discovery. Whether you’re trans* or cis, if you haven’t come across these books before then I do recommend checking them out. Hopefully you’ll enjoy them as much as I did.

***note: it has been many years since I last read these books, so my memory is a little sketchy in some areas. This means that there’s a possibility that some of the information which I state is inaccurate or incorrect. I apologise in advance if this is the case***

Alice in Genderland by Richard J. Novic

Richard J. Novic leads two lives. One of them involves a successful career with a loving wife and kids. But for one night a week, Richard becomes Alice; a girl who loves to go out dinning, shopping, and partying with her boyfriend.

This is the first memoir from a MTF crossdresser and spans Novic’s entire life.   

I purchased this book soon after coming out to myself, and it did two very precise things for me.

Firstly, this book was a huge inspiration. The day before it arrived, I was convinced that there was no hope for me. I was certain that my future would consist of me living alone, despised by my loved ones, laughed at by my neighbours, and completely jobless as a result of my identity. This book, however, showed me that this is not always the case. Novic has it all; a loving wife, supportive family; accepting friends and a healthy career.

Secondly, this book helped to translate my thoughts and feelings into actual words. I was astonished to find that Novic had been through numerous experiences which reflected my own, endured the same sensations of doubt and denial and even experienced all the fear and shame that clouded my every thought.

As I read each page, I kept stopping to shout “I’ve been through that!” There’s nothing better than hearing your own thoughts spoken through the tongue of another, reminding you that you’re far from alone in this world.

Whether you’re trans* or not, Alice in Genderland is an incredible memoir, taking you explicitly and honestly through the life of a crossdresser. It’s both inspiring and educational for those who are fortunate enough to read it.

Transgender Warriors by Leslie Feinberg

We often hear about transgender men and women from the 20^th and 21^st century, but when do we hear of transgender people prior to the nineteen hundreds? It would almost seem as though trans* identities are a contemporary phenomenon, popping up at random during the last hundred years or so.

Well think again.

Leslie Feinberg’s Transgender Warriors not only fills in the gaps of the history books, but also reveals that gender diversity has existed for an incredibly long time. This book explores centuries of transgender communities; ranging from ancient Syria, right up to the modern world.

For anyone out there who believes that gender diversity is merely a by-product of the contemporary world, please check this book out: you’ll discover that trans* identities and communities are woven into the very fabrics of humankind.

Hello, Cruel World by Kate Bornstein

I’m sure that many people from all backgrounds have been in this position. You feel as though you weren’t designed for this universe, that any hope of obtaining happiness has slipped from your very fingertips, and that the only solution to your problems is to end this thing that everyone calls living.

I have been there on numerous occasions, but one month was worse than any of the others. I was still 19, I could no longer function in my day-to-day existence, nothing was working for me and the only answer seemed to lie in ending it as soon as possible. I’d had enough and I wanted to die. But lo and behold, this lovely little book fell out of the sky (not literally, though that would have been lovely), preventing me from thinking such ghastly thoughts any further.

Bornstein’s book not only celebrates the freedom and expression of gender diversity, but also acts as a self-help guide for anyone who’s feeling alone or suicidal. It doesn’t matter if you’re trans* or cis, Bornstein’s words cater for all kinds.

The book is laid out as a self-help guide, consisting of one hundred and one alternative methods to suicide. Some of the ideas consist of downright outlandish exercises, whereas others act as level headed alternatives to help change your mind.

This book reminds its readers that they’re far more unique and wonderful than they might think and that life is more adventurous than it sometimes seems. This is a truely wonderful book, written by a truely wonderful person.

The Lazy Crossdresser by Charles Anders

This happens to be the second book which I purchased after self-admitting that I was trans*. This is a friendly, somewhat simplistic guide to bending the rules of the gender binaries, mainly acting as a step-by-step guide for MTF crossdressers.

It was nice to read up on the segments concerning the applying of make-up, removing body hair, finding the right outfits, plucking eyebrows, and even venturing out into public. These were all subjects that either frustrated or terrified me at first, but reading Anders advice helped to make me feel a little more at ease with them.

Thanks Anders, you’ve made gender experimentation sound far more entertaining and adventurous than I had ever imagined it to be.

I hope that these resources have been of some use to anyone who might be reading this. Hopefully they will be as beneficial to you as they have been for me.

xx

The Multiple Stages of my Trans* Self-Confession

Coming out is hard, real hard. I’ve managed to come out to two people so far, and despite both of them taking the news incredibly well, it was by far the toughest experience of my life. It is a very memorable yet terrifying experience. However, revealing my Trans* identity to others has not been the only rite of passage that has taken place in my life, as there was also the act of coming out to myself.

The self-coming out stage was an incredibly difficult and drawn out process for me; taking me almost my entire 21 years of life to accomplish.

From my own personal experience, the self-coming out experience can be broken up into four distinct stages (the fourth is one which I’m still going through at this present moment):

Stage One: Self-Obliviousness

As I look back through the memories of my life, I’ve come to the conclusion that my Trans* feelings started at an incredibly early age. The first memory of this was when I was about three years old. As I was walking through the Tesco’s car park with my mum and dad, I began stomping my feet aggressively on the concrete, screaming “look mummy, I can make my heels sound like woman’s shoes!” My parents laughed, thinking that it was just the silly behaviour of a hyperactive toddler (which it very well may have been).

The next set of memories, relating to my Trans* identity, all happened from the age of five onwards. This was when I began to look at women’s clothes, only to become excited by what I saw (not sexually; I was far too young for that).

All that was on my mind, day and night, was the contemplation of wearing women’s clothes. Everything about them stimulated my mind like nothing else. I just wanted to steal one of my mother’s dresses and a pair of tights, so that I could live in them for the rest of my life. This yearning never left my mind, but it wasn’t until I was about eleven that I decided to put the desire into practice.

Yet despite years of these memories polluting my mind, not once did I think there was anything up. I was told that boys couldn’t dress up as girls, and I obeyed this social expectation. I avoided any psychological conflict between mind and social demand by placing my yearnings on mute.

It was as though my subconscious was screaming for me to give in to these girly desires of mine, yet my consciousness was ignoring every word. I just carried on with my day-to-day life, telling myself that boys don’t act like girls and that any desire to do so was just my brain talking rubbish.

This is what I now label the stage of self-obliviousness. The want was there, clear as day, screaming for me to give in to temptation, but whilst I was actually living in those moments, I had no idea what was happening inside. Even when I saw a Trans* man or woman on programmes like Jerry Springer, not once did I think “oh, now that behaviour really does resonate with me” Instead, I just went “that man is dressed as a woman. Now that’s a tad odd isn’t it?”

Stage Two: Self-Denial

But the oblivious didn’t last forever. The inner-voice grew louder, and soon enough, it was larger than any other thought. By eleven, I knew that I had to tackle these needs head on.

My approach to this was to give in to my desires for just one afternoon, believing that once I had satisfied this curiosity, the voice would be silenced forever. So one afternoon – during the school holidays – I snuck into my Nan’s bedroom and put on some of her clothes.

“I’m actually doing this!” I proclaimed. I couldn’t believe my luck. It was the most exciting and liberating experience of my existence. I loved it, and never wanted it to end.

One month later - around the end of 2001 - I was at home ill with my mother. My dad was at work and my brother was at school. My mum said she was popping down to the corner shops and asked if I would be ok on my own for five minutes.

It was during this moment, that I realised I had a breif window; five minutes to scratch my cross-dressing itch once again. “Just one more time” I said. “Mum has better clothes than Nan does, so that way, my curiosity will be much more satisfied after wearing them.”

I was now in the second stage of coming out to myself. I had finally identified the desire after years of obliviousness. I knew that in the back of my head, there was a cross-dressing itch which needed to be scratched. The only problem now was that I was trying to flower up the reality of what I was with a never-ending list of excuses.

First, it was the “I have an itch to scratch” excuse. This was where I would tell myself that every little boy wants to know what it’s like on the other side of the gender binary, and that once I’ve tried it out, I would never think about it again.

Boy, how wrong I was. In fact, the more I tried it, the more I wanted to do it again. After my fifth dress-up session, I started to realise that my theory was inaccurate, and that this might not be a temporary characteristic to my personality.

The next excuse I generated was what is sometimes referred to as The Forbidden Fruit excuse. “I’m only doing it because it’s wrong” I told myself. This excuse managed to satisfy my denial for countless years, and even when I started to discover that I was different from all the other lads in my classes, I would keep telling myself that I was only doing it for rebellious purposes.

“Some of my classmates like to have underage sex, others like to smoke in the toilets, whereas I’m going to challenge the one thing that everyone has told me is wrong.” Was my mode of thought.

In my mind, I was merely rebelling against male behaviour; yet I still told myself that I was in no way like those transvestites and transsexuals that I would hear about on the TV.

At around 16, the forbidden fruit excuse started to wear thin. As my thought process developed, I started to ponder why I was still supposedly rebelling against these gender expectations. “Maybe I’m not doing this just because it’s naughty.” I told myself “maybe I just love doing this.”

And this is when the third and final excuse popped into existence. “It’s because I haven’t got a girlfriend. I’m lonely and it’s damaging me psychologically.” Such a daft excuse, but I actually thought that this was my greatest theory to date!

I assured myself that the moment I got a charming, beautiful girlfriend who loves me for my male-self, then these urges will be erased from my thoughts. I then spent my college years, doing everything I could to get myself a girl; anything to get rid of these dress-up desires. I even started building up my muscles (a fact which I still wince at).

And guess what? At the age of 17, I got a girlfriend, and to my complete surprise, the thoughts didn’t go away. My third and supposed water-tight theory had been blown to smithereens.

After my relationship ended, I decided to return back to the drawing board and generate another theory for my feelings. To my great frustration, however, I had nothing else to go on. I was completely out of ideas. 

Instead of admitting to myself, there and then, that I was Trans* I just decided to ignore the feelings yet again. “Oh I don’t give a damn what it means. These feelings will shrivel up eventually” I said to myself. I still had the desires, I just decided to ignore them again.

It’s crazy to think that for the rest of my college life, and during the first year of university, I refused to respond to my feelings. I knew that I was different and I despised myself for feeling that way. I just focused on working hard, telling myself that everything would be alright, so long as I did well in school .

It wasn’t until the age of 19 that I entered the fourth stage of coming out to myself.

Stage Three: Self-Admittance

It was December 2009, nearly half way through my second year of university. I was in a nightclub with a girl I fancied. We were both blind drunk, having the time of our lives. Then, from out of nowhere, she began to passionately kiss some random guy. Being too devastated for words, I left immediately.

When I arrived home, I pulled a box from under my bed. Inside was a dress which I still had from a Halloween party the previous year. In a state of perpetual sadness, I put it on (something which I often did whilst drunk or depressed). As I lay there, I kept telling myself, over and over, that I wanted to be a woman.

The next day, whilst I lay in the bath, I finally admitted to myself something that I had probably known all along: I was transgender.

For years I felt different, that I was an outcast and that dressing up in women’s clothing had some significance to this; yet all that time, I chose to ignore the idea that I may be Trans*.

On that December morning, my whole world had changed. I had admitted the one answer that I had long been shying away from.

Stage-Four: Self-Acceptance

After this overdue realisation, I scoured the internet. I purchased myself a selection of trans-related books. I even treated myself to a few pieces of female clothing from internet shopping sites.

I promised myself that there was nothing wrong with my newly discovered identity. I recognised that it was probably never going to go away, but nevertheless, I assured myself that I could learn to accept who I was and eventually I may even be able to tell other people about this part of my existence.

I read endlessly about Trans* issues and attempted to learn as much as I could about the transgender community. I also started to write my own journal, placing my deepest thoughts and feelings into words. I did all this in the aim of learning to accept myself.

I was tired of being scared, tired of being hateful toward myself. If I was to survive, I needed to accept who I was. I needed to teach myself to stop being ashamed, and to rise higher than I ever imagined I could.

I would be lying if I said that my journey of self-acceptance is complete, because it isn’t. I am now proud to say that I have learned to love and respect Trans* people, to celebrate diversity, and to understand that my Trans* identity is not wrong, broken, immoral or sick; yet I am still learning the art of courage. I’m still afraid of how others will perceive me when I’m publicly out, but I believe that this is my final barrier before self-acceptance is complete.

Coming out to your loved ones is a tough, courageous and life-changing procedure; but then so is coming out to yourself. Some brave souls manage to do it at a young age, but for some people – like me – it takes decades of unawareness, denial, admittance and acceptance before reaching that aim.

I admire everyone who’s ever had to come out to both others and themselves; whether they’re gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or of any other identity.  

I wish the best of luck anyone who’s yet to go through these stages. Just remember that these things do take their time, but once it happens, it will be totally worth it.

xx

The Hypocrisy of some Cis People

I remember the night very clearly. There were six of us in the living room of my student house; all drinking before heading into town. It was the year 2010 and I was in my third year of university. One person, among the six of us, was my dear friend Ellen. At random, she began to tell us about one of her boyfriend’s housemates.

“Oh you should see him” she said whilst laughing. “He likes dressing up as a girl. He even calls himself Lilly!”

“Oh really? A cross-dresser?” I asked, trying my best to conceal my disapproval of her mocking tone; instead adopting a voice of pleasant curiosity.

“No. He wants to become an actual woman. He’s even changed his real name to Lilly” She responded, still grinning in uncontrolable amusement as she spoke.

It was such a shame. Ellen isn’t a cruel girl. She’s in no way a bigot. It’s just that she didn’t know any better. She came from a conservative family from the south of England and had spent her entire life living in a small village, where Trans* individuals seemed non-existent.

She’s a smart girl, but nevertheless, she knew no better and had no idea that her words toward this Trans* girl were unkind. I’d often try to tell her that she should think about how she described this Lilly individual to others and although she would always agree with me, she’d frequently forget soon after.

As soon as Ellen mentioned her boyfriends Trans* housemate, a cold chill shot down my spine. I realised, that there were four other opinionated individuals in the room, who were moments away from giving their own views. I was hoping that none of them would be hostile, as I knew it would ruin my evening.

One asked, in curiosity, what the correct pronoun would be when referring to this person. This question I liked; instead of laughing, he decided to try and learn about Trans* identites. The girl next to him, however, was less kind. Her name was Chloe, and she was Ellen’s friend from London.

Chloe seemed like a smart and worldly ciswoman. After graduating from a prestigeous university, she decided to go travelling, exploring the different countries of Asia. I was hoping that her attitude toward diversity would be a little wiser than Ellen’s, but this was never meant to be.

“It’s so weird.” Declared Chloe. “I saw him before we left the house. He was wearing a dress and high heels. It was such bizarre behaviour”.

This comment has stayed with me ever since it was first uttered on that distant winters evening. The reason for this is because that very cisgirl, who voiced those disapproving words, was wearing a dress and high heels herself.

It was one of those moments which happened to be both humorous and frustrating. The hypocrisy in her choice of words was quite funny. I mean she was calling someone weird because they chose to wear clothes which were familiar in design to her very outfit. Was she criticising her own taste in style? Or had she just put zero thought into what she was saying? It would be like me proclaiming that any human who likes situation comedies are a bunch of weirdo’s, whilst simultaneously owning the entire collection of Friends on DVD.

But then, after the humour of her words settled, I began to grow frustrated. What she had said was not only a thoughtless statement, but was also an indirect act of cissexism.

She was pretty much stating that “birth-assigned-boys who dress or behave like girls are weird, because they were not born with the biological rights to do so. I’m allowed to dress like this, because I was born with XX chromosomes and a vagina, whereas this person was born with XY and a penis.”

This then got me thinking about my friend Ellen. She too was wearing a dress and heels, and on top of that, she told me that she loved being a girl; forever embracing her birth assigned gender. Like Chloe, she was laughing at someone for behaving and dressing in the same way as her.

This is an attitude which drives me up the wall, as I seem know quite a lot of birth assigned girls who seem to share this outlook. These are the sort of cisgirls who love wearing the perfect girly outfits; who relish in looking pretty; and who love being identified & treated as women. But then, when they see someone who was assigned differently – based merely on their chromosomes and gentiles – they laugh, accusing that individual of being a freak or a weirdo.

These girls don’t seem to realise it, but what they’re participating in is biological sexism. Because they happened to have been born with a particular type of body, society gives them access to certain attitudes, privilidges and accessories. Yet when someone, who has been born in a different body, wishes to also have these privileges, they instantly become angered or amused by them; deciding that these people are not fully eligible to enter their gender without criticism and ridicule.

Why should peoples genitals determine how they’re allowed to behave and exist within this world? Why should people be laughed at for bypassing gender binaries, just because their chromosomes doesn’t match this invisible criteria?  Why does Chloe get given a free ticket to wear dresses and heels, whilst people like Lilly get scorned for doing so?

It is good to know, however, that not all cisgirls think like this. There are so many supportive, understanding and brilliant birth assigned women out there who completely emphasise with Trans* women. The amount of times which I’ve heard about girls getting excited upon hearing that one of their friends is a Trans* individual is frequent. I absolutely adore and respect these women to the core and they deserve our full admiration.

Yet, despite these brilliant people, there are still many out there – like Chloe – who feel that they have a biological right to behave, exist and dress in a particular way; denying others of such entitlements.

I just wish that there was more ways of making these people more aware of their hypocritical and biologically elitist attitudes. That way, we’d be one step closer to eradicating these repressive gender binaries.

PS: I love and respect cis people just as much as trans* people. This post is not an attack on non-trans* individuals, but merely a rant toward the Chloe’s of this world; the guys and gals who think that they’re somehow supperior because of the gender that their doctors gave to them on the day of their birth.

The Benefits of being Trans*

A lot of the time, being Trans* can be tough. The fear of rejection, the vicious internal war and the constant alienation from both your body and society can make everyday life a real uphill battle.

But even though these are difficulties which are prevalent in my day-to-day life, being Trans* has also helped me to excel in some areas of my life.

Here are several examples:

1) Education

During my childhood and early teens, I really wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. My teachers had lost faith in me, my parents were concerned for my future, and I hadn’t passed a single exam in my life.

I’ve always had severe trouble when it comes to learning something new. My attention span is appalling, my passion for unfamiliar subjects is next to non-existent and my memory is so bad that I’ve been known to forget entire books just hours after finishing them.

However, seeing as I grew up knowing that I was a bit of an outcast from mainstream society, and being fully aware that I would someday probably receive certain levels of prejudice (if my alternative lifestyle was made visible), I became adamant to better myself.

I knew that if I was to succeed in this world, then I’d probably have to make sure that I passed in school, attended university and attained the highest degree that I was capable of.

I also knew that I had to prove a point to the trans-haters out there. I wanted to show them that I was not wrong, dirty, damaged or in any way immoral. I had to prove to them that people who do not fit societies expectation of the norm are also capable of being intelligent, creative and thoughtful humans. It became my core aim to show them that I too could be brilliant.

I had this epiphany at the age of fifteen, and from then on, my grades improved dramatically. Within a year, my grades excelled from U’s to C’s. By 16, I had moved on to college where I received Four A-levels. By the age of 20, I had graduated from university with a 2.1 degree, and last month, I received my Masters of Arts degree. I know that it sounds cliché (and not too believable), but I put all this down to the simple motivation of wanting to prove to society that I can do well too.

2) Finding work and moving out (preparing for the future)

Now this one may sound a little hypocritical, as I’ve not yet found a job and I’m still living with my folks. Being in an economy with such a harsh climate, and only just finishing four years of university, I’m still on the search for a job.

However, the one thing that gets me up in the morning – forcing me to search the internet and the job centres – is the motivation to find myself work and move out of my parents home. In just a few weeks, I have signed on to countless career programmes, hoping that soon, some of them will get back in touch with me.

My reason why this determined motivation is related to being Trans* is because in order to fully and comfortably explore my gender identity, I must do so in privacy. I still live under the roof of my parents, so gender experimentation without getting caught can only come once every few months (when mum and dad decide to go away for the weekend).

If only I was to have my own income and place of residence, then I’d have the freedom and financing to set off on my journey of gender exploration. It is this idea that is motivating me to get up in the morning and scour the job markets and estate agents, in the hope that I’ll soon have freedom and privacy.

If it was not for this drive to independently explore my gender identity, then I’d more than likely just be oversleeping every day, gleefully leaching off my parents for dependence and revenue (until they forced me to buck my ideas up of course).

 3) Learning Tolerance

The one thing that being Trans* has made me most grateful for, however, is the learning of tolerance. As a young teen, I was completely in self-denial, merely ignoring these ‘unconventional’ feelings that I was experiencing.

As a result of this, I had no care in the world for those who didn’t fit the social norm. I thought I was normal and therefore everything was fine in my world of being a privileged white male from a middle class family.

I was convinced that everyone had it good, and the people who were scorned where the people who were unpleasant and attention whoring. It is amazing to think, that back then, I thought everyone who deserved it, was treated fairly. But boy, how utterly wrong I was.

After realising that I belonged to a group who are ridiculed endlessly on the Jerry Springer show, who were detested by my friends, who are attacked on the streets simply for being themselves, and were seen as ‘weird’ by my entire family, I realised that prejudice still exists in the 21st century, and that it did so on an international scale.

Once this awareness had seeped into my consciousness, there was no turning back. I started to see the bigotry that this world held toward different creeds, colours, races, genders, sexualities, disabilities, illnesses, and any other group who strayed from the mainstream publics’ idea of normal.

I began to read books and blogs on discrimination; I even started to pick up on and correct my friends as they made hateful comments toward minorities. It became my goal to identify and attempt to prevent intolerant behaviour amongst my social circles. I became known as the ‘annoying liberal’ by my less tolerant friends and even to this very day, I do all I can to try and make my loved ones more aware of the hatred and narrow-mindedness that circulates through our everyday lives.

Some people may think that my awareness and hatred toward racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism, transphobia and all other forms of discrimination makes me self-righteous and annoying, but I sincerely believe that it has helped make me a better person.

(Just to note: I’m not saying that all people in a position of privilege are prejudice. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. I know hundreds of educated, free-thinking individuals who share the exact same opinions as me. I can think of loads of people – who are members of mainstream society – who wish for nothing more than to eradicate all prejudice from this world. I’m not in anyway saying that you have to be Trans* in order to be open-minded and I think that there are many cisgender individuals who are allies of Trans* people. I am just saying that being Trans* is what helped me personally become aware of bigotry.)

So like everything, being Trans* can have it’s pros as well as cons. Although I still find my gender identity difficult to deal with, it has helped me with a number of additional obstacles in my life, and at least it helps me get out of bed in the morning.   

Diversity: something we should celebrate

Unfortunately, there seems to be many people who are completely fearful of diversity. They frequently become frustrated as they fail to comprehend why another human might fall in love with a member of the same gender; why some individuals wish to adopt fetish tendencies in the bedroom; and why there are people who choose to move away from the gender that they were assigned at birth.

But why do so many people become so hostile to those who are different? Surely the diversity of peoples’ behaviours, attitudes and lifestyles is what makes this world such an exciting and adventurous place to be in.

If we were all the same, we’d become nothing more than a race of uninteresting drones; all completely aware of how the rest of the world were thinking and feeling.  We’d all enjoy the same things, hate the same stuff, and aspire for the same goals. There would be nothing new.

Diversity means that no two people are the same. When you meet somebody unique, you’re almost guaranteed to learn something that you were unaware of yesterday.  We shouldn’t be fearful to those that we think are dissimilar to us. Instead we should learn from them, because you never know, their unique attitudes towards life may very well benefit your own existence.

The fact that the human mind is a complex, never-ending labyrinth of variety is one of the many things which make our race so utterly spellbinding. Each human mind is an adventure; so unique and special in its nature.

If only society could learn to not be afraid of those who are different; instead choosing to celebrate the endless range of unique sexualities, genders and lifestyles that exist out there.  Fear and hate is simply preventing us from progressing as a species.

As history has shown us, society can change its ways. We’ve never been perfect (and are still lightyears away from being so), but we often learn from our historical errors. There was once a grizzly time when a majority of society thought that men oppressing women acceptable, that slavery was a morally sound act and that illegalising homosexuality was an act of justice; but today, most of us look back in disgust at such monstrous behaviour.  We now realise that our ancestors’ attitudes toward these humans was disgraceful, and that it was barbaric for them even thinking that such gruesome acts of cruelty were okay.

Let’s just hope that society can soon learn to love and celebrate the diversity of others, so that in the future, our children look back in distaste at the years of fear and loathing that many possessed toward individuals who didn’t fit the pseudo-criteria of ‘normality’.