It's pretty easy to call into a feedback loop between depression and dysphoria. First, there are many overlapping symptoms, not limited to : feeling bad about oneself, feeling futureless, losing motivation, etc.
To help stem off dysphoria, it's often important to do things to regulate one's appearance. For me, shaving, having decent nails, being clean, and wearing clean clothes help. However, when one is depressed, it's often very hard to do these things.
In turn, that leads to more dysphoric feelings, which tend to also be depressing. In turn, one's self-care lapses further, or becomes harder to keep up with, until you're a mess who can barely get out of bed, if at all. It's not complicated, but breaking out of it is hard.
You have to find the motivation (how? where?) to begin that selfcare and bring it to a level where dysphoria weighs on you minimally. That itself can be exhausting and lead to more depression and a return to intensified dysphoria.
And this is why transition is often so important - if I complete permanent hair removal on my face, I will never have the sinking feeling of seeing stubble or the frustration of having a beard-shadow despite shaving that stubble off. That seemingly minor change gives me back some time and effort and it also keeps me from starting off on the wrong foot when I go to the bathroom in the morning and glance at the mirror.
This is a vast oversimplification, not taking into account how other people's loos and comments can trigger dyphoria, how observing cultural norms can trigger it, or how the world being fucked can make us depressed. But you begin to get the idea.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
On #ThisTweetCalledMyBack and #KnowYourHistory and why I find it so upsetting
These are some thought stemming from reading: http://know--your--history.tumblr.com/post/105347135300/knowyourhistory
Being me, I'm not nearly as conciliatory as its anonymous author. Why should I be when I've publicly flipped out in rage over this topic? And have different grievances, vague grievances unlike those specific grievance in the above link.
Months ago, I block Lauren Chief Elk on Twitter. I'm not the most tolerant person, but I felt my identity as a mixed-Potawatomi trans woman was being erased by her. It's so long ago that I don't what she said. And I thought she was a trivial enough asshole so as not to screencap.
Well, recently a rather problematic hashtag called #ThisTweetCalledMyBack started. On the one hand, it's great to call out activists who denigrate online activism. On the other hand, there was a lot of irony in that, as LCE and many cosigners had acted similarly towards other online activists.
Several of those people made ignorant claims about appropriation or being looped out of the narrative. Ironic, as those claims on appropriation relied on weak arguments that failed to examine the evidence, instead relying on an appeal to their authority. Further ironic, because they themselves were acting appropriatively and looping people out of the conversation.
For example, it's admirable to talk about how black people are systemically and violently oppressed by colonial anti-blackness (including in countries where colonies originated, it's worth noting). What's troubling is there's often an erasure and appropriation of the systemic oppression that Native Americans have suffered for years preceding black slavery (the first slaves in America were Native Americans, the first people raped in America were Native Americans, the first people killed for not being of enough use to their masters were native Americans). Nor did the oppression and genocide of Natives end when that of Black people began. It has continued to this day in which if we examine the proportions of how police violence affects people by race, Native Americans rank up there with black people - making it inaccurate to claim that all non-black people of colour do not understand. Yes, Native have a different understanding, true - but an equally valid one as well.
And I've found many mixed voices silenced, especially trans women. It's a lot to unpack, but the mixed experience amount to more than such simplifications as 'passing privilege' or 'colourism'. Many of us do not pass and our racial ambiguity results in strange treatment, very little of it positive, much of it sexualized, degraded, and subject to violence. And there are often privileges we do not have - like that of community. Everyone is lucky to have a community who does. Many of us don't fit in the communities of either of our parents and thus we have only our direct family.
Look, I don't blame them. I have made plenty of insular, shitty, offensive judgements in the past. I will continue to. And I understand how emotions can make it hard to approach things rationally, so I have some sympathy for LCE and cohort. But please keep in mind, they're about as flawed as the rest of us. And aggrandizement of anyone, including them, is no answer.
Update:
As you may no, I recently received notification that one of my short stories had won an indigenous writing contest with a rather large prize. That LCE and friends are willing to doxx their critics makes me understandably more nervous about the notification email that asked for my Social Security Number (I have not yet provided it). Even if it's not LCE etc, it's clear that they've contributed to an unfortunate climate of fear.
Being me, I'm not nearly as conciliatory as its anonymous author. Why should I be when I've publicly flipped out in rage over this topic? And have different grievances, vague grievances unlike those specific grievance in the above link.
Months ago, I block Lauren Chief Elk on Twitter. I'm not the most tolerant person, but I felt my identity as a mixed-Potawatomi trans woman was being erased by her. It's so long ago that I don't what she said. And I thought she was a trivial enough asshole so as not to screencap.
Well, recently a rather problematic hashtag called #ThisTweetCalledMyBack started. On the one hand, it's great to call out activists who denigrate online activism. On the other hand, there was a lot of irony in that, as LCE and many cosigners had acted similarly towards other online activists.
Several of those people made ignorant claims about appropriation or being looped out of the narrative. Ironic, as those claims on appropriation relied on weak arguments that failed to examine the evidence, instead relying on an appeal to their authority. Further ironic, because they themselves were acting appropriatively and looping people out of the conversation.
For example, it's admirable to talk about how black people are systemically and violently oppressed by colonial anti-blackness (including in countries where colonies originated, it's worth noting). What's troubling is there's often an erasure and appropriation of the systemic oppression that Native Americans have suffered for years preceding black slavery (the first slaves in America were Native Americans, the first people raped in America were Native Americans, the first people killed for not being of enough use to their masters were native Americans). Nor did the oppression and genocide of Natives end when that of Black people began. It has continued to this day in which if we examine the proportions of how police violence affects people by race, Native Americans rank up there with black people - making it inaccurate to claim that all non-black people of colour do not understand. Yes, Native have a different understanding, true - but an equally valid one as well.
And I've found many mixed voices silenced, especially trans women. It's a lot to unpack, but the mixed experience amount to more than such simplifications as 'passing privilege' or 'colourism'. Many of us do not pass and our racial ambiguity results in strange treatment, very little of it positive, much of it sexualized, degraded, and subject to violence. And there are often privileges we do not have - like that of community. Everyone is lucky to have a community who does. Many of us don't fit in the communities of either of our parents and thus we have only our direct family.
Look, I don't blame them. I have made plenty of insular, shitty, offensive judgements in the past. I will continue to. And I understand how emotions can make it hard to approach things rationally, so I have some sympathy for LCE and cohort. But please keep in mind, they're about as flawed as the rest of us. And aggrandizement of anyone, including them, is no answer.
Update:
As you may no, I recently received notification that one of my short stories had won an indigenous writing contest with a rather large prize. That LCE and friends are willing to doxx their critics makes me understandably more nervous about the notification email that asked for my Social Security Number (I have not yet provided it). Even if it's not LCE etc, it's clear that they've contributed to an unfortunate climate of fear.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
In support of Chelsea Poe's call to stop using stigmatizing language in porn
Recently Chelsea Poe wrote a call to stop using the term 'shemale' and other slurs against transwomen in porn. She touched on many reasons to do this, but one reminded me of something that still hurts today. Many people can choose to ignore porn or not look at it critically, but as she says,
The idea that trans women were 'traps', out to trick men into having sex relies on the trope of trans people as being deceptive, implying we are not genuinely the gender we identify as. How could my adolescent thoughts understand transition when the only way it was presented to me (in porn) was as some kind of tricky, a falseness. How could I ever transition? All there ever was was boob-jobs and anal or oral sex with men. That didn't into what I wanted for myself. I could never be them. And even if I could, why try when that's the only possibility for a life as a trans woman that was presented to me? And so it grew into a secret shame, instead of a path to transition.
A decade and a half passed before I let myself revisit those feelings. This time I had learned that trans people are like anyone else. Finally I could understand myself in the context of womanhood. With the advent of cam shows (live video broadcasts by porn model), trans women were granted a greater degree of autonomy of their self-expression. While it was still often problematic (between how websites categorized us and how some of us retransmitted the tropes we had learned), some of it served as that gateway of rehumanization. For the first time transition became a relatable thing, something I could do. Living as a trans lesbian became something I could do. Reading and learning more? Became something I had to do.
And so I began transitioning. It has been both the hardest and most rewarding thing in my life. But I can't help but wonder - if my first exposure to trans women had been more positive, maybe I would have waited so long. Those are years I regret losing, the secret shame of my feelings about myself something I never should have had to bear.
And even now, I have seen another shame that comes from this. Because of the fetishization of trans women, trans women who are attracted to trans women of feel some shame. Many of us were those silent yearners, looking for a mirror in porn. When we learned about fetishizers (often what we call chasers, people who tend to pursue trans women solely, often spouting cliches and stereotypes at us, but also often paying the bills when we go on cam or do a porn shoot), some of us felt like we were implicated as well, even though our motivations and interests are different.
So please read Chelsea's post (linked to above) and sign her petition (linked to here). It could change the life of a young woman for the better. And given the rate of suicide trans people endure, it might even save some lives.
The language and stereotyping portrayals of trans women in porn made it impossible for me to truly relate when I was first questioning my gender in my early teens. The dehumanizing nature of these portrayals made trans women a taboo, a secret shame. There was something so important about seeing them, but I could never let myself relate. How could I be like these women when they were portrayed as not being women or men, but exotic creatures that existed only for male lust (because they did not portray Lesbian trans women like myself, that's for sure)?"For trans people, we don't have that same disconnect from porn.For most of us it's our first exposure to what trans-ness is. The terms that accompany our first exposure to trans women’s bodies are terms like “Shemale,” “Tranny” or “TS,” terms to pointedly shame those who have these bodies and those who are attracted to these bodies."
The idea that trans women were 'traps', out to trick men into having sex relies on the trope of trans people as being deceptive, implying we are not genuinely the gender we identify as. How could my adolescent thoughts understand transition when the only way it was presented to me (in porn) was as some kind of tricky, a falseness. How could I ever transition? All there ever was was boob-jobs and anal or oral sex with men. That didn't into what I wanted for myself. I could never be them. And even if I could, why try when that's the only possibility for a life as a trans woman that was presented to me? And so it grew into a secret shame, instead of a path to transition.
A decade and a half passed before I let myself revisit those feelings. This time I had learned that trans people are like anyone else. Finally I could understand myself in the context of womanhood. With the advent of cam shows (live video broadcasts by porn model), trans women were granted a greater degree of autonomy of their self-expression. While it was still often problematic (between how websites categorized us and how some of us retransmitted the tropes we had learned), some of it served as that gateway of rehumanization. For the first time transition became a relatable thing, something I could do. Living as a trans lesbian became something I could do. Reading and learning more? Became something I had to do.
And so I began transitioning. It has been both the hardest and most rewarding thing in my life. But I can't help but wonder - if my first exposure to trans women had been more positive, maybe I would have waited so long. Those are years I regret losing, the secret shame of my feelings about myself something I never should have had to bear.
And even now, I have seen another shame that comes from this. Because of the fetishization of trans women, trans women who are attracted to trans women of feel some shame. Many of us were those silent yearners, looking for a mirror in porn. When we learned about fetishizers (often what we call chasers, people who tend to pursue trans women solely, often spouting cliches and stereotypes at us, but also often paying the bills when we go on cam or do a porn shoot), some of us felt like we were implicated as well, even though our motivations and interests are different.
So please read Chelsea's post (linked to above) and sign her petition (linked to here). It could change the life of a young woman for the better. And given the rate of suicide trans people endure, it might even save some lives.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Leg-shaving pro-tip
Recently I figured out a way to make shaving my legs quicker, easier,
less-harmful, and cheaper! Sounds too good to be believed, but it is for
real! And it only requires a few things:
1) Buy some new razors. Not anything fancy. In fact, what you want a dollar-store double-bladed razors. They are the key to this working, this is the main step. They look something like the razor on the left, the razor on the right is what you want to avoid:
(Click pictures to embiggen for more detail - left razor has two widely spaced blade, right razor has three narrowly-space blades, apologies for not having sharper pictures)
Why the cheaper razor? Because widely-spaced blades don't really clog with hairs like the closely-spaced blades do. This makes shaving much quicker.
2) Shave with the grain of your leg hair. This prevents getting too close of a shave and avoids pushing your hair follicles under your skin, avoiding in-grown hairs.
3) Bonus tip: to release hairs from your razor when it finally does get somewhat cloggy, push the razor along an unshaved (so as not to push the follicles in, though this is less of a concern) but relatively hairless area of your arm/stomach/leg. Your skin will grab the hair wad from between the blades and then you may continue shaving.
 |
Picture shows handle of razor facing right, with the head of the razor flat against my skin. You want to push the razor to the right in this orientation, away from as opposed to into the blades |
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Can you understand?
Can you understand what it's like to be a transsexual woman? No. In my experience, even other trans women have a hard time understanding each others' experiences. And I will show you things some of you might be able to understand - my struggles are not all about being trans. In this blog I will do my best to explain all this.
When I was young, I had a lot of dreams about wombs and learned a lot about anatomical differences between men and women. In combination with the affirmation that my gender expression could be anything while my gender would remain as a boy, this reinforced the biologically-essential view of gender.
The biologically essential view is that your genes/genitals/etc determine your gender instead of you yourself having the right to determine that. Gender is contained within the 'essence' of biology. And variant gender expression is acceptable because nothing about it can change your gender in this view, it's set by your biology, immutable.
That may seem rather theoretical, but it's that thinking that led me to view what I learned about transsexualism as basically being unreal, something I could /never/ aspire to, that would just make me a freak.
But over the years, I found it impossible to deny that trans women are women. And when I was eventually confronted with the clearly-stated 'scientific' view (which is pretty firmly rejected by science) that gender is biologically set, I realized I couldn't take it anymore. I started realizing that the essentialist lie had trapped me too.
For a long time, the thought, "I don't want to be a man," echoed in my mind, seemingly at odds with the thought, "I wish I could grow up, I'm sick of being a child." To try facilitate the latter though I have, over the years:
Initially I conflated the gender expression I defaulted to and was comfortable with, androgyny, with my gender. But the more I read of androgynes and the more I compared it to being a trans woman, the more I realized that the latter was what fit me, what had always fit me, and where I felt comfortable and right. It's hard to quantify gender identity, but it's real.
So I my fledgling transition finally caught wind and I began to move forward. At this time I was involved in some quasi-legal activities to make money, since it had been several years since I'd managed to hold a job (one that I had gained through nepotism, more on my troubles working in a future post), much less a well-paying one.
Some of the first advice I found was rather bad - overcome depression before trying to transition. So the over $300 I made in my quasi-legal activities all went towards seeing a rather clueless therapist, some self-care, and finally on drinking.
I also found a local local-income volunteer-based health provider. They would not start me on HRT, but wanted to refer me to the sole endocrinologist in town, an appointment that would have required the money I had just spent and possibly more (though not all up front). So at my doctor's urging I worked to secure an appointment, the soonest opening being six months hence. The health-provider's office claimed this violated their policy, despite the fact that it didn't - I was pursuing this lead with my doctor's permission.
But soon that doctor (who was as helpful as she knew how to be), had rotated out to a placement working in another town. And my replacement was... less accepting. Her plan involved me getting on anti-depressants. And to their credit, the anti-depressants worked - sort of. They pushed me from depression into mania and hypomania, driving me to drink to manage the overwhelming feelings I now felt. In classic manic style, the money I had made (which had stopped flowing in because the friend who I relied on to help me stopped, so they could pursue their hobby of vandalism... I mean their hobby of graffiti) evaporated as I spent it without judgement. I could no longer focus on productive things in my slow depressed way, I had to have the world now, I had to enjoy all the things.
As you might imagine, this severely derailed my transition. Realizing that I needed to get off that anti-depressant before I completely self-destructed, I quit it. During the withdrawal, my depression and loathing of the world and friends got worse. The not-friends I had tolerated because of the hypomanic feelings became intolerable. I quit drinking, though and started to put my life back together. I quit cigarettes again, a habit I had picked up again as a social tic to feel the 'need need need' manic feelings. I came out to my mom for the first time, only for her to tell me that no matter what I'd still be her son.
And then it was winter. I hate winter. I hate the cold. I hate the barren limbs of trees. I hate the ugly white snow that is only rarely charming, but mostly like an oppressive blanket draped over the world, rendering it lifeless. I didn't get much done. Over the past four or five years I've been embracing art again and trying to finally start a business I've dreamed of for years: screenprinting t-shirts with designs and sayings I've made. Instead, I almost killed myself several times - if it wasn't for my best friend (who understands a lot of where I'm coming from) proactively interceding, I probably would have.
Finally, it was spring. And this year that meant the expansion of Medicaid. Repeatedly pushed to apply for it, I got accepted. This was basically the best news up until that point. I had learned my lesson about doctors - upon being told that I had to choose my primary care provider, I picked a nurse practitioner. Why? Because in my experience, the nurses had always made effort to be accepting where the doctors had had a harder time doing so. I have friends who've studied nursing and have had many nurses as friends. Even reading online, I see far more doubt directed at transsexuals by doctors than by nurses.
And my judgement paid off. Within a few sessions I was prescribed to HRT. My NP was responsive to my needs as a patient. Now, there are limitations - someday, after jumping through hoops, my orchiectomy (testicle removal, maybe more on this in a future post... probably not) might be covered (and legally it is, but medically there's a lot of gatekeeping, "for my own benefit," which is... not beneficial), but the far-more pressing facial hair removal (I can shave, I can put make-up on, I can be on HRT for months now, but... it's still visible and causes me to be misread as male).
It also doesn't help with the college debt (declaring bankruptcy is unlikely to excuse them) I accrued while trying to figure out my life years before transition, resulting in the failure of many classes I would have otherwise excelled at, and nervous breakdowns that resulting in dropping out of school approximately five time. It doesn't help me legally change my name or birth certificate (which can be costly) so that the way introduce and present myself matches my 'legal identity' - which is a further barrier to work and a source of constant stress when some places are required to use that legal identity, which results in misgendering and being referred to by a name that's not who I am. Which might seem minor (I guess? it seems pretty major to me), but it's absolutely crushing, each time hurts and each time adds up.
So now I'm trying to raise money. And I know it can be done, people will give, but it's an uphill battle I shouldn't have to fight. At the urging of a friend, I'm trying to write this so people can see that contributing is very important. There will be more posts in this series, this is just a brief introduction. Some upcoming posts will cover mental health, the United States healthcare system, my difficulties working, my struggle with school, and other topics. This post will be updated as time goes on, with links to subsequent posts. Thank you for reading!
The biologically essential view is that your genes/genitals/etc determine your gender instead of you yourself having the right to determine that. Gender is contained within the 'essence' of biology. And variant gender expression is acceptable because nothing about it can change your gender in this view, it's set by your biology, immutable.
That may seem rather theoretical, but it's that thinking that led me to view what I learned about transsexualism as basically being unreal, something I could /never/ aspire to, that would just make me a freak.
But over the years, I found it impossible to deny that trans women are women. And when I was eventually confronted with the clearly-stated 'scientific' view (which is pretty firmly rejected by science) that gender is biologically set, I realized I couldn't take it anymore. I started realizing that the essentialist lie had trapped me too.
For a long time, the thought, "I don't want to be a man," echoed in my mind, seemingly at odds with the thought, "I wish I could grow up, I'm sick of being a child." To try facilitate the latter though I have, over the years:
- shaved my head repeatedly (always when having a a self-hating nervous break down) - and I love my hair, I love having it long
- grown facial hair, despite hating beards and mustaches and being very physically uncomfortable
- had sexual intercourse, despite being sex-repulsed asexual (more on this in a future post
- worn some truly ugly clothes
- worn clothes several size too large to fit my parents expectations and to hide the body that i was ashamed to have
- ran from and learned to hate make-up because on some level i know it would out me and/or force me confront how I felt inside
- shunned queer pride things... something I'm still struggling with. not because homophobia, but because I have a hard time feeling I'd belong there
Initially I conflated the gender expression I defaulted to and was comfortable with, androgyny, with my gender. But the more I read of androgynes and the more I compared it to being a trans woman, the more I realized that the latter was what fit me, what had always fit me, and where I felt comfortable and right. It's hard to quantify gender identity, but it's real.
So I my fledgling transition finally caught wind and I began to move forward. At this time I was involved in some quasi-legal activities to make money, since it had been several years since I'd managed to hold a job (one that I had gained through nepotism, more on my troubles working in a future post), much less a well-paying one.
Some of the first advice I found was rather bad - overcome depression before trying to transition. So the over $300 I made in my quasi-legal activities all went towards seeing a rather clueless therapist, some self-care, and finally on drinking.
I also found a local local-income volunteer-based health provider. They would not start me on HRT, but wanted to refer me to the sole endocrinologist in town, an appointment that would have required the money I had just spent and possibly more (though not all up front). So at my doctor's urging I worked to secure an appointment, the soonest opening being six months hence. The health-provider's office claimed this violated their policy, despite the fact that it didn't - I was pursuing this lead with my doctor's permission.
But soon that doctor (who was as helpful as she knew how to be), had rotated out to a placement working in another town. And my replacement was... less accepting. Her plan involved me getting on anti-depressants. And to their credit, the anti-depressants worked - sort of. They pushed me from depression into mania and hypomania, driving me to drink to manage the overwhelming feelings I now felt. In classic manic style, the money I had made (which had stopped flowing in because the friend who I relied on to help me stopped, so they could pursue their hobby of vandalism... I mean their hobby of graffiti) evaporated as I spent it without judgement. I could no longer focus on productive things in my slow depressed way, I had to have the world now, I had to enjoy all the things.
As you might imagine, this severely derailed my transition. Realizing that I needed to get off that anti-depressant before I completely self-destructed, I quit it. During the withdrawal, my depression and loathing of the world and friends got worse. The not-friends I had tolerated because of the hypomanic feelings became intolerable. I quit drinking, though and started to put my life back together. I quit cigarettes again, a habit I had picked up again as a social tic to feel the 'need need need' manic feelings. I came out to my mom for the first time, only for her to tell me that no matter what I'd still be her son.
And then it was winter. I hate winter. I hate the cold. I hate the barren limbs of trees. I hate the ugly white snow that is only rarely charming, but mostly like an oppressive blanket draped over the world, rendering it lifeless. I didn't get much done. Over the past four or five years I've been embracing art again and trying to finally start a business I've dreamed of for years: screenprinting t-shirts with designs and sayings I've made. Instead, I almost killed myself several times - if it wasn't for my best friend (who understands a lot of where I'm coming from) proactively interceding, I probably would have.
Finally, it was spring. And this year that meant the expansion of Medicaid. Repeatedly pushed to apply for it, I got accepted. This was basically the best news up until that point. I had learned my lesson about doctors - upon being told that I had to choose my primary care provider, I picked a nurse practitioner. Why? Because in my experience, the nurses had always made effort to be accepting where the doctors had had a harder time doing so. I have friends who've studied nursing and have had many nurses as friends. Even reading online, I see far more doubt directed at transsexuals by doctors than by nurses.
And my judgement paid off. Within a few sessions I was prescribed to HRT. My NP was responsive to my needs as a patient. Now, there are limitations - someday, after jumping through hoops, my orchiectomy (testicle removal, maybe more on this in a future post... probably not) might be covered (and legally it is, but medically there's a lot of gatekeeping, "for my own benefit," which is... not beneficial), but the far-more pressing facial hair removal (I can shave, I can put make-up on, I can be on HRT for months now, but... it's still visible and causes me to be misread as male).
It also doesn't help with the college debt (declaring bankruptcy is unlikely to excuse them) I accrued while trying to figure out my life years before transition, resulting in the failure of many classes I would have otherwise excelled at, and nervous breakdowns that resulting in dropping out of school approximately five time. It doesn't help me legally change my name or birth certificate (which can be costly) so that the way introduce and present myself matches my 'legal identity' - which is a further barrier to work and a source of constant stress when some places are required to use that legal identity, which results in misgendering and being referred to by a name that's not who I am. Which might seem minor (I guess? it seems pretty major to me), but it's absolutely crushing, each time hurts and each time adds up.
So now I'm trying to raise money. And I know it can be done, people will give, but it's an uphill battle I shouldn't have to fight. At the urging of a friend, I'm trying to write this so people can see that contributing is very important. There will be more posts in this series, this is just a brief introduction. Some upcoming posts will cover mental health, the United States healthcare system, my difficulties working, my struggle with school, and other topics. This post will be updated as time goes on, with links to subsequent posts. Thank you for reading!
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