It’s a bit of an odd feeling to be transitioning (whether to full-time or something just short of it) semi-publicly.
Work and family don’t know, but my social circle and those on Facebook know to a greater or lesser degree.
But it occurs to me that it some ways, it’s reminiscent of the transition path of trans men coming out of the lesbian community, particularly those who identified as butch for a period of time until they realized butch wasn’t working for them.
I don’t have up-close first-hand experience — and obviously it’s not every trans man’s experience — but from what I’ve seen from afar (at least in the Bay Area), it does seem like it’s not uncommon for trans guys to have a public journey from butch-ish to butch to trans-questioning to trans-identified (with an optional gender queer stop along the way). One where sometimes the community rallies around the transitioner to help raise funds for their surgery.
Or at least is commonly acknowledged. E.g. I was taking a dance class Sunday and the instructor made an off-hand reference to a friend of her’s just having had his top surgery.
I hesitate to post this, because the act still isn’t as polished as I’d like,* but what the hell…
(The video is a bit shaky during the intro, but gets steadier once the act begins. Also NSFW language during the intro, although the whole video is probably NSFW.)
BTW, if you’re playing the tranny drinking game, have those shots lined up and prepared to be shit-faced within five minutes.
Seriously, I was surprised by the MC’s outro. As the MC said, normally it’s a light-hearted naked lady show, so it caught me off-guard to hear him go serious for a moment.
A friend of mine complimented me that, as someone who’s sat through more performance art pieces than anyone can imagine, she thought it managed to be smart as well as accessible, which is more difficult sometimes than it might seem. I think her take on it is right — it really is more of a performance art piece posing as burlesque.** That said, I think burlesque’s emphasis on connecting with your audience does help keep it grounded.
FWIW, not looking at the audience (during the first song) is highly unusual in burlesque and was a deliberate change I made after workshopping the number and getting feedback that people liked the feeling that they were peering into my private world. Plus it ended up working nicely with the theme of private self/public self. Not sure if it came across, but when I was facing away from the vanity during the first song, I’m supposed to be looking in the mirror. Have to add one as a prop.
* In part because it’s emotionally tough to do the act, and definitely messes with my head. Which is a bit of a Catch-22 because I need to rehearse it more, but I’m avoidant of doing so. Each time I’ve rehearsed it for shows, I end up crying the first day or two of run-throughs. Plus before each of the three shows so far, I’ve been stressed out a couple days before and it took a day or two afterwards to decompress. So I’m actually a bit ambivalent doing the festival. Though fortunately, as I do it more and more, I’m getting a bit desensitized to it. But I’m just going to buck up and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse before May.
** “Neo” burlesque definitely does encompass those sorts of acts. A friend of mine who’s Black does a gut-wrenching number live singing “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes (and inviting the audience to join in) while revealing placards with the names of various black people who’ve died at the hands of police. The final placard reads “Black Lives Matter” and then she drops that one to reveal “I Matter” written on her body. Needless to say it’s emotionally tough on her, and it’s her courage doing the act that helped inspire me to bear down and do mine. At BurlyCon this year, there was a performer who’s disabled who did an act about her using a wheelchair — and not the being trapped by it, rather it was her romancing the chair as it were, and showing how it makes her far more mobile and free.
Our company had it’s after-hours holiday party. (Because we’re an e-commerce company we did it after Q4.)
The good: I went en femme — frankly a number of people were expecting me to — and damn I looked good.
The better: I had a number of “woman to woman” interactions during the evening (the subtle changes in body language, etc.) A bit surprising to me, since while people know I “play dress up” and perform, they still pretty much only see my male self. I get the feeling that the women who acted that way probably weren’t even aware that they were doing it.
The bad: People kept introducing me (to significant others, to co-workers who didn’t know me, etc.) as [boyName] who works in [department], and using masculine pronouns.
None of it was malicious, that’s just how they know me.
But each time was a little dagger straight through the heart.
I can handle the contradictions as long as my lives are separate. But the moments when they’re intersecting are becoming harder and harder.
And it does make me wonder how easy a transition in place might really be.
I don’t feel my male persona is all a facade. It’s more it’s feeling less and less like me anymore. Again, shades of “Orlando.” But it’s a trusty old work truck that I can drive when needed. Does the job, both literally and figuratively.
It’s more that as I’m establishing my identity as a semi full-time woman, the stakes are higher so having that identity not acknowledged (utterly unintentionally) hurts, where it used to be a minor annoyance. I understood intellectually how this is a sensitive issue for transitioners, especially during and shortly afterwards, but now I’m understanding it a gut level. Fortunately, I’ve had a decade out in public, so it doesn’t feel invalidating — I know who I am, even if I’m not quite sure what I am — but it was definitely uncomfortable, in large part because it was so many incidents in a short amount of time.
Normally it’s not a huge issue, since outside of work I’ve carefully staked out my identity as a woman in burly circles, and even in drag circles people rarely saw me out of drag. The only real exception was the charity group board meetings, but even there I am (like most drag queens) referred to as Joie and female pronouns even while in male mode. So that’s doesn’t bug me.
This just happened to be a rare case where I was presenting as a woman where people are used to dealing with me as a man. If I’d known I’d react this strongly I wouldn’t have gone.
Did my 20th hour of electrolysis today. A few bare spots, the hair along the upper lips is definitely thinning and softening. But still a depressingly long way to go. Although hopefully I’m a fifth of the way through (at least until I’m generally clear and go more into maintenance mode).
Scheduled my first consult for potential facial feminization surgery. I’ll be down in LA in February for Mom’s birthday and one of the surgeon on my short-list is down there. Later next month I also want to schedule a second consult with a surgeon who’s local. In part because I want to get a read on whether I could start hair transplants now, or whether I should wait until after some facial work — and whether the facial work might need to wait until after being on hormones.
Realizations
That I’ve been reluctant to go to sleep on Sunday nights, because I want to delay having to go back into male mode during the work week. Yeah, I supposed that does mean something…
It’s bit odd to be in a semi-public transitional state. If I do transition to full-time, it’ll be a presto-changeo as far as work and family. But with my friends (and Facebook friends), it’ll be more of a “what took you so long?” since I’ve been talking about what’s going on.I realized it’s a bit akin to the trans guys who try the butch thing until they realize that’s not enough. Admittedly, I’m not deeply plugged into the local lesbian community, but periodically I’ll see fundraisers to help someone with his top surgery, where obviously his transition is well-known and being celebrated. One of my poly partners offered to provide in live-in help if I need it after any surgeries (now that she’s self-employed), and knowing her, I’m sure she’d organize a crowd of caregivers if needed. I see it in the burly community where some well known performers who do male characters are acknowledged to be male-identified, even if female-bodied.In my case, community, even though people in the burly community obviously know I’m male-bodied — hard to disguise when I’m down to pasties and panties — there’s numerous people who’ve made it clear they’ve seen me as a woman, even from the times I ventured into the burly circles as a drag performer. ‘Course I’d been very careful to almost always appear a woman in those circles (except for when it’s been unavoidable with a few select friends) and these if I had to go to in event in male mode, I just wouldn’t go.
It’s been pointed out to me on several occasions that cats and dogs respond to me the way they do to women, not men.
After my initial ambivalences about whether to use Marlena as a “forever name” (part of me was feeling it might be something to move beyond should I transition), it’s now feeling like me again. Even tentatively have a middle name: Christina (as in Christina, Queen of Sweden). I’ve got new Gmail account under “Marlena [RealLastName + PlusRandomDigitsBecauseI’mNotTheFirst].” Maybe not an email address I’ll use forever, but now that I’m contacting surgeons and other health care practitioners, I felt like I needed email that matched.
As I mentioned, part of me has been doing a bit of second-guessing on my Teh Tranz shift, mainly there’s been no obvious cause for the shift: there hasn’t been a moment of accepting that I’m trans, of overcoming guilt and shame, etc.Then again, a decade ago my need to express this side of myself suddenly intensified, including the need to get out of the house. Literally and psychically. I’d cross-dressed off and on since I was 10 or 11, but this was different. There was a bit of obvious trigger — I was going through a tough time in my life and being someone else was part of the appeal — but that was far from a complete explanation. What was the complete explanation? I still really don’t know. Something shifted and that’s all I could say. Something’s shifted again this past year.Still not sure why. A friend of mine did point out that we only have so many coping resources inside us, only so many things we can keep clamped down. So when we’re overwhelmed by other things, our real gender is able to escape, at least temporarily, and make itself apparent. Which makes sense to me. 2014 was an extremely stressful year for me. By the end of the year I’d hit the wall mentally and emotionally, and it took several months to decompress. ‘Course also hitting mid-life crisis was undoubtedly also a factor — I turned 51, and for whatever reason the “1” birthdays have been much harder than the “0” birthdays (likely because that’s when it’s really clear I’m in a new decade of life). Not in an “I don’t want to die as a man” kind of way, rather the sort of taking a look at your life stuff that goes on. But whatever the reason, just as before, it’s something authentic that I need to acknowledge and embrace. Will I be on the lookout for Pink Fog? Sure. Do I know what it’ll take to address that need? Not yet. But hopefully I won’t be second-guessing myself as much.
To make a long story, long…. The meandering path sure seems to be a lot less meandering these days.
There are some for whom catch phrases such as “born this way” and “trapped in the wrong body” make trans people acceptable because the narratives they represent render us passive victims of our own freakishness – and so they justify our existence outside the gender norm.
The implication is that no one could or should choose to be as horrifyingly wrong as my body makes me. But I do not believe that one requires justification to live and identify as one chooses. When I decided to start hormone therapy, I did not do it because I hated my body.
I did it so the world would see my gender closer to the way I do. I did it because I loved myself, because my body is mine, and because I am the one who decides how to navigate it through this complicated and violent world.
The changes I’m making to my body, the changes I’m likely to make to my body, they’re not because I hate my body. I may feel yearning for things I don’t have, resignation for things I’d rather not have and can’t change (size 13 hobbit feet anyone?)… but not hate. I’m making these changes because I want the world to better see my gender the way I do.
Whether that’s a narrative the medical gatekeepers are willing to listen to….
Part of my anxieties about potentially transition are because I didn’t feel like I was female from the time I was four — plus years of assuming I wasn’t seen as female — make it a lot easier for me than some other people to focus on how people are behaving towards me, not what they’re thinking.
However, it’s clear things are changing in significant and probably permanent ways. It’s just not clear how far the road I need to go.
With a number of months of partial-“real life experience” (i.e. full-time not the weekends, etc.) I think I have a reasonable idea what a post-transition life looks like — which the huge caveat that I don’t know what the workplace would be like. Sadly, I’m sure it would be very different given I work in Silicon Valley — because gender discrimination.
It is a balancing act between feeling like “I’m sick of this shit, I wanna be done with it” vs. knowing that a step-by-step approach is the best one. Realistically I’ve probably got another eight months of electrolysis so even if I wanted to strap myself to the Pink Rocket Sled, it’s not practical to do it before then.
Although I am interested in getting facial feminization surgery, what I want done is reasonably subtle enough that it’s not necessarily a point of no return. Most people don’t notice hair transplants anyway, and if they do, a number of men my age get them. Obviously a nose pretty noticeable, but I can chalk it up to other reasons. Getting a lip lift and raising the eyebrows/opening the eye orbits, does make a big difference in feminizing my face from what I can tell from playing around with the photos from Virtual FFS, albeit it’s still a subtle difference since my face is surprising androgynous to begin with. But definitely something to me mindful of.
Breast implants definitely would mean transitioning. So a key factor will be how dysphoric I feel about not having larger (height/weight-proportionate) breasts beyond what hormones might do.
The body dysphoria was more acute seeing the photos from the “Nothing But Light” photoshoot, but it’s not a new feeling. It’s something that’s grown during the past two years of doing burlesque. Burlesque is definitely a two-edged sword — OTOH, it eases my social dysphoria, but it’s worsening my body dysphoria. Much as I try to think of myself as a glamazon, all too often I feel like Fiona from “Shrek.” And yes, the rational part of me knows that there are fellow performers who are also “larger than life” (one of my good burly friends is 6-feet tall and big boned (and not in the euphemistic way)). But until their come up with shoulder feminization surgery (and hand- and foot-size reduction surgery…) it’s not something I can change. Thankfully, it’s not really about body parts that I hate, as much as ones I wish I had.
I don’t really think of myself as a man anymore — my homme self is definitely akin to a trusty old pick-up, reliable, not particular exciting — but I don’t quite think of myself as being fully a woman either. Yes, it is a bit of not feeling “authentic enough.” A bit of it is also still feeling somewhere in the middle, and not in a bad way.
OTOH, I definitely do seem to vibe “woman,” as far as I can tell from the way other people see me.
A friend asked me if I’d been noticing any emotion truths in my reactions to the photos. There’s a couple:
The extent that I’m feeling increasing uncomfortable in my own skin. I look into the mirror and see myself with boobs and hips and it just feel so right. (Home is where the bra goes on.) The way I should be. I know society makes life tough for larger women, but I’d be fine being an oversized woman if I was curvy in the “right” ways. Being stripped of the props I use to bring my (clothed) body in line with the image of myself in my mind’s eye was… disconcerting.
The extent that being seen as a woman is important to me. From the time I first started going out in public, my working assumption is that people aren’t going to mistake me for someone who’s female-bodied. But as long as they treated me as a woman, it was/is OK. But being visibly and overtly male-bodied…. that definitely gets in the way. Much of my body dysphoria is tied to what’s publicly visible (i.e. I’m not particularly bothered by the furniture in the playroom); the social signifiers of “woman.”
The extent that I’m trying hold it together. Ms. High Functioning that’s me. Dealing with the short-term about how trans stuff is taking over my life. Electrolysis twice a week. Plans to start working with a speech therapist twice a week. Researching FFS surgeons. Looking for a good gender therapist… Admittedly, I can always push some of it out if I hit overload. But part of it is wanting to feel like I’m in control of things when things are feeling a bit out of control.
There’s no obvious reason why I seem to be changing states. I was reasonably happy on the middle path for years. It’s not like I finally admitted to myself that I’m trans, nor that I finally worked through guilt, shame, etc. But suddenly the slope has become slippery and all that is solid melts into air. So how do I know what I’m feeling is the “real me”? Can you see the real me, can ya? Other people seem to, so why can’t I fully do so myself.
Then there’s holding it together in the face of a huge unknown, one that scares the fuck out of me. The rational part of me knows that things should work out OK. There will be prices to be paid, including the loss of male privilege. Prices I think I can accept. But having a lot of privilege also means there’s potentially a long way to fall, and it’s a long way until retirement.
I went through the photos from the “Nothing But Light” photoshoot tonight. Vodka and tears were involved, both in generous quantities.
At first it was hard to see anything but the things I hated. The bad hair day. My face, dotted red from electrolysis. The discomfort. The sadness. The trying to be home in my skin, and not succeeding. The trying to hold it together.
But ultimately it was cathartic. Confronting images from a photoshoot where I’ve felt the ugliest I have in awhile, there were bits and pieces that I could look at and not flinch at, sometime even embrace. The occasional look in my eye, the curve of my calf, my nails looking long and elegant. The times when the vulnerability showed through. Even the wariness and guardedness.
I’m still having trouble being self-accepting of the body I see in the photos. In the mirror I can see what I want to see, but the camera is a harsh mistress that sees things as they are, not how I’d like them to be. Seeing the body I have now, not the body I desire. But I can now look at the photos and… well… maybe not embrace what I see, but rather come to a detente with it. That’s a start.
There’s ultimately about a half-dozen photos I’m giving the photographer permission to use publicly.
BTW, the photographer has a new website: http://www.nothingbutlight.io (NSFW, since the point of the project is that it’s nude portraits.)
A post-transitioned friend mentioned that she’s run into a lot of older potential transitioners who have decided not to pursue their transition because they fear the cost will be too high, i.e. loss of job, loss of family and friends, etc. Whether all those things would come about or not is irrelevant because they don’t want to take the chance.
Am I doing a cost/benefit analysis myself right now,? Yes. To answer another friend’s “Trans Turing Test,” if I could magically transition tomorrow, would I? Yes.
But I don’t think it’s as simple deciding not to transition out of fear.* It’s also possible that one concludes that the benefits aren’t sufficient.
As I’ve said before, I don’t hate being a man, but I’m finding I’m more comfortable as a woman. With the added overtones of: I’ve done the guy thing for five decades, why not try something new (shades of “Orlando”).
So the benefit for me of relieving dysphoria is less than it seems to be for many people who transition, i.e. for me it’s not “transition or die.”
Even if I do end up transitioning full-time, I don’t see that’ll be for “transition or die” reasons. It’ll probably be because of the desire for body modifications that can no longer be disguised in guy mode (i.e. for me, D-cup breasts are appropriately-sized given how stocky I am (I’m a 44-46 bra size), and binding them to go to work doesn’t seem particularly desirable or realistic). Would I die without big boobs? Nope, but I might be somewhat yearning.
So yeah, for me it’s more about how much happier will I be after each step, electrolysis, FFS, hormones? (Obviously the first two do definitely come with a financial price tag.) Will true dual-living be sufficient? Yes it means putting on the “guy suit,” but then again, like most people I put on my “work persona” anyway. Would full-time transition make me happier enough to justify all the various costs of transitioning full-time? Specifically the cost of what it might do to my career, and all that implies financially. Lots to ponder…
So I think it’s also that middle-pathers (even one like myself who seems to be tiptoeing up to the line of transitioning) are more comfortable with handling ambiguities and contradictions. So the costs and benefits are less clearcut as well.
At the point the reasonable course of action seems to be take a step and seem how things go afterwards.
* Which isn’t to say there aren’t would-be late transitioners living lives of quiet desperation.
#1 – Since work is extremely slow between Christmas and New Year’s, I ended taking a couple days off. I had hoped to get out of town for a couple days, but the pieces never fell in place. Wasn’t necessarily a staycation either, my plans to do stuff locally ended up getting messed up as well. So I spend a bit of time just puttering around the house getting caught up with stuff, running errands, etc.
But I was able to be Marlena for a full week, probably the longest stretch I’ve had, and it wasn’t in non-“real life” setting, like BurlyCon, Southern Comfort or Diva Las Vegas. The very ordinariness about it — including the “oh gawd do I really have to get up earlier to do my face and hair” — was educational in a chop wood, carry water sort of way. And Sunday night it was hard knowing I’d need to go back to male-mode during the week. (Not helped by knowing it’s back to having stubble all week so I can do electrolysis.)
#2 – At fundraiser New Year’s Day, one of the queens came over and told me words to the effect that she really respected what I was doing — implicitly referring to me clearly moving toward living more and more as a woman. I didn’t get any trans-dar vibe from her, I think she was just being supportive. (It is a little awkward with the fundraising group, since I’m on the board and have to attend the monthly meeting in male mode, since there’s not time to change easily.)
A few weeks earlier after I did a burlesque show, the show’s producer (who’s know me for a couple years), remarked it’s been fascinating to him to watch how I’ve changed from [boyname] “to really embracing [stage name],” and specifically mentioned seeing photos from BurlyCon. Again, nothing explicit but clearly referencing my work-in-progress.
There’s been some other comments as well, that’s got me thinking about the degree to which my evolution is playing out public — at least in my outside-of-work circles. Admittedly in both the burly world and the drag world (outside of meetings for the fundraising group I belong to), people have rarely seen me in male mode — which has been very deliberate on my part. So I’ve already established a fairly strong femme persona, even people also know I’m male-bodied. In both worlds there’s already a number of people who just assume I live full-time as a woman. And for the rest… it seems like that if I do transition full-time a lot of folks reactions will be, “what took her so long.”
Though obviously work is the big exception, though I seem to be leaking gender pretty freely. Though as mentioned, when I came out to a co-worker last month, she had no idea. We’ll see what happens. I’m rapidly reaching the point where if I grow out my hair any further it’s clearly (at least to me) becoming obviously “long hair.”
#3 Happiness is new boobs. I’ve had my prior set for years now and they were loosing their shape, and had started tearing. So while I was able to repair them, it was clearly time for new ones, which arrived today.
They’re the Gold Seal Classic 1-1/2 which is a bit less convex in the back than my prior pair, so they fit better — no more pulling away from my body when I bend over. Plus they end up being effectively a quarter-cup size larger, which is filling out my bra properly without leaving a little dimple. They’ve also got a thicker backing, so you can attach them via tape. Haven’t tried it yet, and generally my bras fit well enough I don’t need it, but it’s nice to know it’s possibility when I may need it, such as wearing a swimsuit.
But mostly it’s just nice to feel them on my chest again — after week en femme, it was a bit odd at work for them to be absent. Even though they’re probably contributing to my neck and shoulder problems, they just feel right. Just like looking into the mirror when I’m wearing hip pads and seeing a curvy figure feels right. Yes, my body dysphoria does seem to be getting a bit worse…. If I do transition to full-time, I suspect it’s going to be because of having a body that’s too curvy to hide (i.e. getting implants).
And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, but where it’s going, no one knows…