Susan's Place Transgender Resources

Mostly posting this so it will exist somewhere. Would love for anyone to read it. Feedback totally accepted.

I'm spending the night at my mom's, and I wanted to talk to her about my gender identity, but it was just too difficult, so I just kept dropping hints and asking her if she lives me no matter what. So I asked if I could borrow her journal to write a few thoughts, and this is what came of it once she went to bed (Trigger Warning! Severe self-harm, dysphoria, suicidality, media misrepresentation, menstruation, forced compliance to gender norms):

Dear Mom,

I'm not a lesbian, but I am gay. My short hair is not a marker of my sexuality, but of my gender. My attraction to gay men is no coincidence, but a direct consequence of who I am. I am a transgender man. I always have been.

The discomfort I have felt around the feminine has been there, omnipresent in the back of my mind. Dressed so frequently in drag - as a female - I have spent years afraid to be myself.

The denial years.

From age 13 to 24 I held myself in a deep denial. Suffocated and suicidal, I pushed myself away from the truth. The only representation of the transmasculine to which I had been exposed was in a Discovery Channel documentary. He had taken razors to his chest, mutilating himself with scar tissue in an attempt to divest himself of the burden of breasts. While I too did not like my breasts, I did not have it in me to self-mutilate or attempt self-surgery. So I pushed it to the back of my mind, consoling myself with the thought of a someday-breast-reduction.

I concluded that due to my lack of desire for DIY surgery, I must not truly be transgender, and put it out of my mind. I pretended, in the following years, that my discomfort with my body was due to being overweight. I pretended that my desire to be included in male friendship circles was the boy-crazy antics of a teenage girl. I pretended to be comfortable talking about menstruation.

One Christmas at (aunt's) house, I had awful period cramps, and after hours of suffering confided this to her in the hopes of getting some pharmaceutical relief. She told everyone. (Her sister-in-law) came up to me and sympathized, and I wanted to die. Completely mortified, I withdrew into my thoughts. Internally, I screamed, "but you're a WOMAN! You're SUPPOSED to have periods!" And I thought to myself, "If she's a woman, then by contrast, who am I?" I pretended it was that I felt I was still a child.

In my dreams, I was always disconnected from my body - unless in those dreams I was male. In my daydreams, I pictured my future - as a rock star, a comedian, or an actor -  all male. I saw myself shirtless, singing to a crowd in a deep voice.

In choir, I tried to get Mr. (Choir Director) to let me sing tenor with the boys. I would sometimes do it on a whim if I felt I could get away with it. I wanted to be in the men's chorus. I wanted to wear a tuxedo. I didn't use the word transgender for myself, but I longed to be one of the boys. In all-state jazz choir I desperately tried to fit in with the boys. I told myself it was because we shared interests, like classic rock and raunchy humor.

Way back in elementary school, I did the same thing. I wanted to play kickball, but I never got picked. I spent my bus rides telling dirty jokes with the boys.

I only liked books with male protagonists, and usually male authors. I felt more at home in those stories than in my own skin.

Every time my hair was forcibly put into a ponytail, I hated it. For evidence, see my 4th (or 5th?) grade school picture. The previous year I had taken my hair down, so this time my grandmother shellacked it into place with great gobs of hair gel, so that none of it would move from its place. I tried to remove it, but it was too physically painful. I requested a gray background to match my mood, and gave the camera a death-glare.

In high school, I cut my hair (just the part that one might consider "bangs") to look like Chris Klein from American Pie. I wanted to be him. I wanted to be Steven Tyler and Freddie Mercury and ZZ Top.

I was always so afraid to express myself, because every expression I liked was looked down upon by my family - goth fashion, writing out my demons, dark music... So I wore the clothes that were given to me. I wore eyeliner, but only that. I took comfort in the "emo" trend, which had a number of boys wearing eyeliner during that period.

Whenever (aunt) took me clothes shopping, she would stop at the dress section and relentlessly pick things that she thought were cute. Every time, I ended up trying on a couple, and eventually saying I liked one so we could leave the store. Then it would rot in my closet.

When I was 19, I went to a friend's wedding. As I assumed was appropriate, I tried to "dress up" nice for the occasion. I wore my homecoming dress, with full makeup. The entire time, I felt like I was in drag, inappropriately, an exhibitionist flaunting my false facade. I was complimented on my appearance and found myself at a loss for words. All I could think about was how wrong I looked, how much I was a liar and a fake and begging for attention with my looks (while my mind begged for my looks to be ignored).

I tried to make friends in college, but found that I couldn't relate to anyone. The girls all had their "girly" things, and the boys their "manly" things. And here was I, stuck in the middle. At (university), my fellow psych majors all felt somehow distant and different from me. I couldn't figure out who I was - I think that's what made me different from them.

For so many years, I had defined myself by the external. In those get-to-know-you games that ask "what's one interesting thing about you?" I would answer that my mother has a mental illness. And I was drawn to the abnormal mind - I told myself it was because my mom had one.

I had worn my disguise so long and so thoroughly that I had lost myself in it.

It wasn't until I met a collegiate trans man that the sparks of self-actualization began to coalesce. I applied for and got a job at his workplace, to see if I could learn anything from him. At this job, meetings began with everyone stating their name and preferred personal pronouns. This was the first time since a brief mention on a late-night TV show (non-mom readers: it was The L-Word, hahaha) that I had heard anyone use gender-neutral pronouns.

When I worked at Dairy Queen, I confirmed a customer's order to him, and he said, "Yessir! ... I mean, ma'am. Yes ma'am. Sorry." And my thoughts were, "Sir is fine! Sir is great!" It was the best moment of working at DQ I ever had.

Every time someone has called me a girl, or said, "What's up, girl?!" I have felt uncomfortable. For my whole life.

I have felt uncomfortable for my whole life.

I can't listen to the sound of my own voice recorded. It sounds wrong. It takes constantly talking out loud to myself to keep me used to the sound of my voice, so that it doesn't startle me into a spiraling depression.

I know now what I never knew before: there are resources for me. There are ways to become who I've always wanted to be, who I've always seen myself as. It is not impossible to ever be happy. It is hard. But not impossible.

"Can anybody hear me?
I just want to be... Me
And when I can, I will."
~ Smashing Pumpkins, Mayonaise

Wow that's great. If I had my life story that put together I would be more at peace with myself.

This is fantastic, pianoforte.  I think that you really put your emotions out there, plus gave good examples (which we shouldn't have to do), which may help your mother put it into a framework for understanding it.

I do hope it went/goes well!

It's great you could put how you feel so clearly !
Did your mom read it already ?

That's a beautiful letter. I think you did a great job of showing what you've been feeling in a way that she can (hopefully) understand. Do you know if she read it yet?

Quote from: pianoforte on January 26, 2015, 04:13:19 AM
I only liked books with male protagonists, and usually male authors. I felt more at home in those stories than in my own skin.

When I was 19, I went to a friend's wedding. As I assumed was appropriate, I tried to "dress up" nice for the occasion. I wore my homecoming dress, with full makeup. The entire time, I felt like I was in drag, inappropriately, an exhibitionist flaunting my false facade. I was complimented on my appearance and found myself at a loss for words. All I could think about was how wrong I looked, how much I was a liar and a fake and begging for attention with my looks (while my mind begged for my looks to be ignored).

When I worked at Dairy Queen, I confirmed a customer's order to him, and he said, "Yessir! ... I mean, ma'am. Yes ma'am. Sorry." And my thoughts were, "Sir is fine! Sir is great!" It was the best moment of working at DQ I ever had.

I can't listen to the sound of my own voice recorded. It sounds wrong.

Some of the stuff you were saying really hit home for me. It was a very well written letter. Have you had the chance to see how your mom reacted yet? I hope it went/goes well.

Great work, pianoforte!  Well written, cohesive, thoughtful... I hope this was well received and it deserves a heartfelt response from your mother.

So, I kinda ripped out the pages and kept them with me, because I'm super nervous.

But hopefully I can share this with her soon. I would like to finish coming out to my family so I can start hormones after the massive shock is over (I feel like showing up to Christmas dinner with a full beard would probably be more of a massive shock? Also they've been suspecting I might be gay or "turning gay" for several months as a warm-up, so that's cool I guess).

Don't feel bad about holding onto the pages. When the time is right, you'll know it.

This is a lovely letter. I hope she takes it well when you give it to her. :)  I mean, she has to. It's lovely.

She just read it. I had to lie down and cover my face with a blanket.

Now we are talking.

She brought up the bible and homosexuality (I like men)... so we'll see how that goes.

pianoforte, this is one amazing letter. It really resonates with me. I hope your mom stops playing the God card soon and actually listens to you.

Hi again,

It's a great step that your mom read your letter ! Congrats !!

I hope your mom will not let religion stand between her and her unconditional love for you.
But if she has a problem dealing with her faith, remember that their is not only one way to be a christian.
My parents are christians and as I was afraid of their reaction when I decided to come out as homosexual, I first went to speak with their pastor. He is a very wise and open minded guy. He literally told me "I don't know exactly the position of the Bible towards homosexuality but what I can tell you is that pleasure is a gift from God and he wants you to have it". Which was partially a lie because he knows exactly what the Bible says... But it was a perfect way to tell me "you should live your life as you want and be as happy and comfortable as you can, no matter what old texts say". Not every clergyman/pastor/vicar etc. are like that, but you can certainly find someone in your area that can be an ally to make your mother understand that texts don't force her to do or think anything

Tell us how it is doing  ;)

I hope it goes well for you, it was a really well written letter and I hope she listens to you. Maybe if she does play the God card you could show her the religion threads on this forum so she knows being trans isn't against the Bible.

Your letter is amazing!  Thank you for sharing it with us!

I hope the initial discussions with her went well and things go smoothly!