I recently contributed to a thread concerning self-defense strategies for TG people, in particular, and my emotional fallout from that has lead me into much reflection. So, I was thinking it might be useful for me to delve in more deeply to this hot button topic here, and maybe share some of my own experiences. I don't know if anything I am about to say will apply to anybody else, but I guess I am really doing this for me, anyway, as I try to wrap up the loose strings of my own journey.
I guess the first thing I should do is tell about my own fear.
Before I was diagnosed as a mis-gendered XX intersex woman, I lived out in the world like a wolf. I had been bullied and beaten and abused by family, classmates, neighbors, and strangers alike as a child. Once the T and growth hormone therapies kicked in big time, during high school, I grew very tall, though still skinny as a rail. The last major beat-down of my life came from my father, and it spawned the first of many fierce male alters.
Nobody ever saw me as an easy victim again. Yes, I was continually challenged by rival wolves, but I had developed a one thousand mile stare that was very effective, and when I needed to access a violence sufficient to leave an unforgettable impression, I did. None of this gives me joy to relate now, nor did it give me much relief back then. It was what had to be done in order to survive. And survive I did. Thank goodness!
Fast forward to later in life, when my truth became known, and my doctors and therapists advised a full de-transition to female. At this point, having DID, I also had a full compliment of female child alters. Delicate, innocent, and without protection beyond the 'lone wolf' personae. The truth of the matter was that HRT was melting off my muscle at an alarming rate. My fierce demeanor was hard to find, and I began to feel very, very vulnerable.
In those days, I lived in an apartment complex where my old self had lived for several years, and I was respected and feared by the men there. I was friends with the entire maintenance staff, and we hung out and dealt weed together, and lived it up like the first-class citizens we all believed ourselves to be.
I was terrified about what was going to happen when the time to dress in female clothes came. I imagined people everywhere gathering with pitchforks and torches, ready to carry me off for torture and execution. I imagined the men that once feared me, upon realizing they had been frightened by somebody not actually a man, would take pleasure in punishing me. I imagined I would look like Corporal Klinger from MASH, and that I would not only be ridiculed, but harassed, and hated.
So, I spent a long time contemplating my options, of which I had few. I was armed to the teeth, as was my custom, but that provided no comfort. In fact, I soon realized that my weapons posed more danger to myself than anybody. I have a few wonderful military friends that stood by me, and I was able to sell my guns to one very special Marine that actually paid me far more than I had asked. I knew that I would likely use them to hurt myself long before I would need them for protection from others. Statistically, the very presence of a gun in a home puts one at greater risk to gun violence than the absence of a gun. Because my suicidal ideations were so profound, and they included the use of one of my weapons, I wisely got rid of them.
The day came when I was being gendered as female by strangers everywhere i went, regardless of the fact I was in boy clothes and had done no facial hair removal, and since I had already been forced to break up with my very resistant, and increasingly abusive spouse, I decided it was time. I put on makeup, best I could, put on all the girl clothes I owned at the time, which was just a skirt and a blouse and unisex flip-flops, and grabbed my purse, and I marched into the manager's office. Because i have young female alters, my mannerisms and voice were quite good, and he was blown away by the woman standing in front of him. I explained I was born female, and a mistake was made, and now that I knew this, I was going to be looking and sounding like the woman I really was, and that I thought it only fair to explain myself, since he was certainly going to be hearing about it constantly for a while at least.
He was shocked, but he assured me that I had every right to dress as I saw fit, and that if anybody gave me any grief, let him know, and he would deal with it. He was great. And that was a huge relief. But he didn't speak for everybody, so I was still fearful of the other guys that worked there, especially.
My fears were based on the lies I was told as a child by my parents, and the bullying I faced in a darker era, and my own insecurities about being a feminine woman trapped in a very man-ish body. I still had my altered 'parts', and the media was full of examples of trans women being killed by 'straight' men. When I found men attracted to me, men who had no idea about my mutilated genitalia, I was horrified. Flattered, and a bit interested, but still, horrified about what might happen.
I still fear what may happen, should I be with a man, and he mistake my scars as evidence of 'trans-ness'. This little bit of apprehension I see a sober assessment of potential risk. When I was still floridly dissociating, my bad girl alters took HUGE risks to have sex with men, and I would never have done any of that sort of thing had I been working with all my wits about me.
So, what is my point? Well, mostly that my fears were far greater than my actual risk. And that I myself had been the greatest risk to my own survival. And that even when I was still in that time of appearing gender-variant, neither fish nor fowl, so to speak, I was never insulted, never accosted, never attacked by throngs of angry people armed with pitchforks and torches. Yes, I was messed with by a LOT of LGBT-types, but mostly online, but never, ever, did any of my imagined fears come true.
Does that mean that gender-variant folk are not at risk for their gender-variance? No, not at all, and my experience certainly may have been mine and mine alone.
But what I did come to realize later, is that being victimized is mot so much about who we appear to be or not to be, but where we are, what we are doing, how we carry ourselves, and the choices WE make.
All women, for example, are at greater risk for sexual and violent attack, though nobody is exempt from risk. We must remember to check our backseats for unwanted passengers, to know where we are, and what we are doing, at all times. We need to exercise due diligence at all times as a way of life. For some people in some places, especially war-torn areas, life and death fear is appropriate at all times. Here in America, unless one lives in an urban environment, the chances are we are pretty safe most of the time. Where I live now, people do not lock thier doors at night. To me, this is exactly the kind of place I want to be. I know economics make it hard for gender-variant people in particular to escape a violent environment. But, even in places like the South side of Chicago, the violence is not specifically aimed at trans folk. Even highly armed, very strong, and effective fighters are cut down every day. I find it helps me to reframe my personal fears of being targeted for my difference with the truth that most killings, rapes, assaults, robberies, etc., have nothing to do with MY issues. Life is very dangerous, more so in some places than others. I try to stay away from high crime area, period. Yes, I used to feel bad-ass enough to deal with such things, but that was not the real me. And it makes me feel filthy to reminisce about such things. After contributing to that post on ' TG combatives', I actually had to take a hot shower and wash my feelings of dirtiness away. I went to bed and fell into fitful dreams, awoke early this morning, and knew I had things I needed to address with y'all here.
When I think of myself as being a 'special' target of interest, my fear goes off the charts. When I just see myself as being as vulnerable as any other woman, and any other human, I can find the perspective to take appropriate steps for self-protection and live my life without fear.
I have finally learned that I am not any more important than anybody else, that I am just one of seven billion other humans, and that common sense is the best defense of all.
I am curious as to what others here have experienced, and how you have coped, and whether or not you have found peace of mind on this sometimes violent planet.
I only hope we can all find safety and peace and happiness as our authentic selves.
Thank you for your time.
Missy
