Quote from: Dan on July 01, 2017, 04:57:49 PM
Really, there is no need to feel shame about having been born male or to feel shame for males. I feel sorry for quite a few males because they are so entrenched in their socialised behaviours that they are as trapped in their bodies as we are.
Rationally, I know that I "shouldn't" feel shame for being born male. But this isn't anything rational. It's something I picked up as a very young child, that being male was some sort of failure which I should be ashamed of, the way all of my other failures (and my childhood, as far back as I can remember, was an unbroken string of failures) were somehow my choice and thus
moral failures as well.
Sometimes I wonder if my parents saw me as somehow a failure because I wasn't the girl they'd expected and wanted, and I somehow internalized their disappointment. (They were quite open about the fact that they'd counted on me, as well as two of my brothers, being a girl before were born, and even told me the name they'd picked out, and how they'd had to scramble to pick a boy's name for each of us. So when my little sister was born, we all knew the name they'd give her.) But this is all still intellectual stuff for me. What I know in my gut is that my being born a boy is something to be ashamed of, my Original Sin.
The thing is, it never occurred to me to want to be a girl, or to even imagine the possibility. When I read stories where a male character turns into a girl or dresses like a girl (cf.
Huckleberry Finn), I would just skip over that part as too scary.
Maybe, as shameful as I was, the idea of escaping my shame by being something other than male seemed like too much of a lie, an attempt to avoid my well-deserved opprobrium and punishment.
Quote from: Dan on July 01, 2017, 04:57:49 PM
Don't feel shame, feel proud that you had the guts to live the life you feel you need to live, and that by doing so you will have given others the courage to do the same.
Over my life, I've learned to simply push the painful things down so far in my mind that I'm not even aware they are still there. You know, the big river in Egypt. And when I can, I can feel proud and happy about my transition. But there are times when those feelings lift the lids off their stone burial vaults and come back to haunt me, as horrible and painful as the day I first felt them.
For what it's worth, the male socialization never worked very well with me. I knew what I was supposed to be, I just couldn't make myself do it, and I got a
lot of you-know-what for that, both from other boys and from adults, which my parents thought I deserved for failing at whatever I was supposed to do/be. I assimilated the absolute minimum to avoid the very worst treatment, avoided other people wherever possible, and acted like I didn't care what people thought of me. And hunkered down, waiting for the day when I could get away.