Quote from: Asche on February 04, 2017, 08:09:02 PM
Whereas for me, I have a really hard time with the idea of hiding some part of myself. (I could never be a spy.) The last 6 months before I came out at work were torture -- having to not tell anyone about what was such a big part of my life. And there's a certain relief, now that I'm out at work, in knowing I don't have to act like I wasn't <deadname> six months ago.
It's not just about my gender. As mentioned in other threads, I'm dealing with some really awful stuff from my childhood, but was trained that it was not okay to talk about the horrible experiences or the horrible feelings they burned into me. Part of my journey to becoming a whole person has been to keep telling people about it, so that eventually I hope I will no longer feel that it's something I have to hide. This is also me: someone who spent most of my childhood wanting to kill myself, still in a lot of pain from it, but trying hard to heal.
But that's just me. Different strokes and all that.
Very well put.
Which is why it has to come back to who we are, the invisible internal self. Like, for me, practicing non-disclosure doesn't feel like hiding at all, it's more like I'm practicing "active translation" if that makes sense. What it really feels like is "letting go" of a former self that wasn't ever really me at all, so that "just me" can finally shine through in all my glory.
Having a closed narrative just feels right, and yields very different social experiences for me that I find beneficial to my well-being. I feel like I'm part of the world, instead of separate from it.
I do have exceptions -- like, I haven't cut off my family, but then they gender me impeccably so that isn't an issue. My real exception, though, has been with other transitioners, depending on social context. Because there's something about this experience that, I think, only other transitioners can really grok, and
i something I have to talk about now and again, much more so the past three months or so since I started doing more "work" regarding my embodiment (losing weight, new hormone regimen, electrolysis touch-ups, etc) and have more work planned on the horizon.
Quote from: Kylo on February 04, 2017, 09:26:12 PMI know things and you know things about the experience, and they can be of use. But the general way people treat each other makes me question whether I'm right about that at all. Maybe I can't relate much or help, because maybe my eyes have always been limited by what I am and the assumption I know what a woman deals with is really coming from some caged animal's deranged perspective. I don't know. My faith in people and in what I believed in myself has taken a nose dive these last couple of years, for a few reasons but the depressing plight of the community is one. I see a community of very isolated individuals, trying hard to connect but separated by many barriers.
This is interesting -- but actually, I think it kind of makes sense.
Back in the day, I knew this guy "Jack" and he was the only FTM that ever came to support group, and part of why he was there was simply to support the woman he was dating (they ended up in a long-term relationship); he was pretty much done with transition at that point, with his top surgery complete, a really thick beard, great voice, etc. Anyways, we talked about the fantasy of being able to swap bodies, wouldn't that be great, whereas even with pretty successful transitions we still have to deal with lingering problems of embodiment.
But he pointed out that there'd still be issues with family, and we'd still have missed out on so many formative years, unless you could pull it off at the age of five or something, which no one would allow in the first place. So there's still the matter of dealing with some kind of dysphoria. And that really struck me -- even after all is said and done, there's still work to do, there's still lingering dysphoria and how do we go about keeping it from striking again? We avoid things that trigger it, that's how.
So I think a lot if not most of the fractures in the community stem from coping with dysphoria, and I wonder if sometimes it's difficult to talk "across the aisle" so to speak, regardless of what side you're on, because there's this fear that something will come up that reminds us of what we've lost out on, and the dysphoria that comes from that realization.
Plus, people with dysphoria are people coping with a lot of pain, and people coping with a lot of pain are more likely to... lash out, not because of what someone else did, but just because lashing out is something we do when we're hurt, at least a lot of us do. I've lashed out in my pain, and it wasn't pretty.
So, anyways, I think it makes sense that there are so many isolated individuals with barriers up, barriers that tend to stay up, just because we've learned to protect ourselves in so many ways all our lives.