Honoring Diversity

Following the posting of last month's Transgender Awareness Week display at work, a colleague told me that he thought the oft-used phrase, "Honor Diversity," conveys the wrong idea. He is a Christian who had written an articulate and compassionate protest about the use of the word "Celebrating" in the display title, and I actually found myself agreeing with his argument. When I asked for some clarification, he explained that "Hitler was diverse, and no way he could honor Hitler."

Well, I certainly concur with that sentiment. Not only is Hitler responsible for the slaughter of Jews, in the late 1930's, he also had the institute where Magnus Hirschfield did his pioneering work on the treatment of trans people destroyed. As a member of a minority group that was slaughtered by the Nazis along with Jews, gypsies, and homosexuals, Hitler's probably the last person on earth I'd want to honor. My colleague's statement, though, led me to question just what it means to honor something.

According to Dictionary.com, honor, when used as a verb, means (among other things):

13.	to hold in honor or high respect; revere: to honor one's parents.
14.	to treat with honor.
15.	to confer honor or distinction upon: The university honored him with its leadership award.
16.	to worship (the Supreme Being).
17.	to show a courteous regard for: to honor an invitation.

In the discussion on synonyms following the definitions, it says, "Honor suggests a combination of liking and respect."

It seems to me that definitions 13, 15, and 16 don't get at the meaning of "honoring diversity" at all. Used as a noun, as it is in #14, honor seems to mean "honesty, fairness, or integrity in one's beliefs and actions." That seems appropriate, but def. 17, "to show a courteous regard for," gets more to the intent, I think.

Then what does "diversity" mean?

Again, Dictionary.com:

1.	the state or fact of being diverse; difference; unlikeness.
2.	variety; multiformity.
3.	a point of difference.

So honoring diversity means to show a courteous regard for our differences, for those ways that we are unlike. In keeping with that, the Diversity and Equity Strategic Plan recently adopted by our city includes within it statements like the following: "Diversity and human rights should no longer be viewed as 'programs,' but as core values integrated into the very fiber of the organization."

To me, Hitler was the very antithesis of diversity, and his example provides the dark side of the impetus toward showing courteous regard for our differences. Hitler proclaimed the superiority of the Aryan people, and attempted to eliminate people who were different based on ethnic, racial, sexual orientation, ability, and gender differences through genocide. It would be impossible to honor both Hitler and diversity at the same time; if you honor one, you dishonor the other.

I don't think you need to approve of another's behavior in order to show a courteous regard for how one is different. So long as that behavior stays respectful of each other and our common humanity, there is no reason for disapproval. However, I believe that one of the best ways we can show courteous regard for those who are different is by learning how we are similar. This was a criticism of the Celebrating Transgender Lives display; that to some people, the display seemed to ignore the similarities we all share, and focus on the difference. Yet each profile of the display was intended to highlight those similarities, and cut through the stereotypes that so often limit the opportunities of trans people. Each profile displayed the unique character or accomplishments of one person – his or her humor, talent, courage, creativity, contribution to society, and so on.

And in fact, each one of us is unique; despite the similarities we all share, we are all different. It is that very difference, the uniqueness of each individual, that makes life so varied, interesting, and – well, diverse. We offer always to each other a learning opportunity, a chance to grow. We are all similar, and we are all diverse. Each one of us loves, laughs, cries, mourns, and struggles to be the best we can be. At the same time, each person's unique character and talent contributes value to the whole of who we are as a people, a society, and a species. That includes our unique or specific expression of gender, whether it fits in between the traditional gender binary or not.

That is worth celebrating – and honoring.

Labels

I'm a member of the Diversity Committee where I work, and to celebrate Transgender Awareness Week (TAW) and International Transgender Day of Awareness (TDOR), we prepared a display that illustrates some of the gender-variant people through history, profiles of individual transpeople and their accomplishments, and a few of the people who've been killed over the last year because of their perceived gender-variance. The display will be put up in my building, and it turns out that, for some of my co-workers, it's controversial. They ask why we need to label people, why we can't just accept people for who they are without the labels.

And which label is it that offends them?

Turns out the display includes the word, "transgender," and a few of my coworkers don't want to be exposed to that word, and they don't want their children exposed to that word.

There's no doubt that labels can be limiting and destructive; that they can make pain and add to prejudice. But I'm not sure how you can have a display celebrating trans people for TAW without including the word "transgender." It would be kind of like celebrating Independence Day, but removing the word, "Independence." What makes that day different? What is it about these people that is different from others?

It's human nature to compartmentalize things, to label them for ease of understanding. There's great danger in that, as mis-labeling is common, and judging solely by label is guaranteed to result in misunderstanding and ignorance. Nevertheless, we cannot escape labels – and labels do have their place. They do differentiate according to individual characteristics. The error is in making assumptions regarding the person that go beyond the label. Assuming that because someone is a woman, she's weak and emotional. Assuming that because someone is a black man, he likes watermelon and fried chicken. Assuming that because someone is a Christian, she's a Republican. The label is accurate and impersonal, but that's all you know about the person; the assumption may or may not be accurate, and accepting it as truth perpetuates ignorance and violence.

In our building, we've also got a poster up called "Women at Work," illustrated with various women performing a variety of jobs, to show that women are capable workers. No one I've ever heard about has objected to it. We regularly put up notices regarding "Asian Celebration," or "Black History Month," or "Women's History Month", or "Hispanic Festival," or "Disability Etiquette." No one objects. If folks make assumptions regarding the people behind the labels, they keep those assumptions to themselves. The labels are accurate and impersonal, and important to place the announcement in context, to give it meaning. If you take that label away, you erase a part of that person's identity; you remove the person or the event from context, and make it meaningless. We are men, women, black, white, Native American, Asian – it's who we are, part of what makes us individuals, an aspect of our personhood that defines who we are in relation to those around us, that gives us our individuality within our common humanity. The label does not represent who we are – but who we are is not complete without it.

I am an American. I am white. I am middle-aged. I am a mother – and a father. I'm a writer. I'm a designer. I am an ex-Marine. I am a carpenter. I am an activist. I'm a feminist. I am free. I am a human. I am a woman. Most important of all, I am spiritual, a child of God. And I am transgendered.

Labels. I claim each one, I wear it with pride. This is who I am. Just as you label yourself, in whatever way you do, with whatever pride or shame you have about that aspect of who you are. Some of those labels I wear by choice – designer, writer, feminist, free. Others have been assigned to me by accident of birth, by fate, or by God – human, American, white, child of God. Transgender.

I don't have any choice about it. I was just as much a transgendered woman when I wore a beard, a man's name, and man's clothing, as I am now. I was just invisible, isolated, and desperately, suicidally miserable.

So when I hear that some of my own colleagues are so offended by who I am that they not only don't want to be confronted with my identity, that they don't even want their children to know of my existence; when I see that they want to bury my identity, erase it, make me invisible – it hurts.

It hurts not only because an important part of my identity is being dismissed. Making that label of such paramount importance that it must be hidden or erased, actually makes it more visible, even as it makes me invisible. The attempt to remove the label isolates it, so that it then becomes the definer of my individuality. It reduces me, and every trans person, to less than fully human, to only transgender. It perpetuates ignorance, prejudice, and fear, and smoothes the way for violence.

This is why we need the display so damned much in the first place.

Commentary on the DSM-IV, or When Should a Trans Person Transition?

The DSM-IV, published by the APA (American Psychiatric Association) to describe and diagnose mental disorders, describes a mental disorder thus: "In DSM-IV, each of the mental disorders is conceptualized as a clinically significant behavioral or psychological syndrome or pattern that occurs in an individual and that is associated with present distress (e.g., a painful symptom) or disability (i.e., impairment in one or more important areas of functioning) or with a significantly increased risk of suffering death, pain, disability, or an important loss of freedom. In addition, this syndrome or pattern must not be merely an expectable and culturally sanctioned response to a particular event, for example, the death of a loved one. Whatever its original cause, it must currently be considered a manifestation of a behavioral, psychological, or biological dysfunction in the individual. Neither deviant behavior (e.g., political, religious, or sexual) nor conflicts that are primarily between the individual and society are mental disorders unless the deviance or conflict is a symptom of a dysfunction in the individual, as described above."

The DSM-IV lists Gender Identity Disorder as one of these disorders, though the information they provide is clearly inaccurate.

However, by the APA's own definition of mental disorder, I am not insane when I am a woman; I'm insane when I try to live as a man. Note that last sentence. Every function of my life improved following transition. The same is true of every trans person of whom I have knowledge. The mental anguish experienced by trans people is primarily between the individual and society, and the dysfunction many trans people experience is a direct result of the discomfort of living "in the closet" – hiding their true selves, choosing the safety of invisibility and isolation over the risk of social ridicule, approbation, and violence. Again by the APA's definition, that indicates that the condition of gender dissonance itself is not a mental disorder, but hiding in the closet is. A better term for it would probably be "Gender Identity Denial Disorder," and it's easily cured by transition.

Besides which, I find it extremely odd that the same organization that diagnoses this as a mental disorder prescribes surgery and non-psycho-active drugs to treat it. "Oh, you're schitzophrenic? Here, have some aspirin for the pain, and I'll prescribe surgery to split you into the appropriate number of persons."

So, when should trans people transition?

I believe that that depends on what is meant by transition. There are several different aspects of it, including gender presentation, hormone replacement therapy, and surgery. Each of these is, ultimately, the choice of the individual. Almost all trans people choose to live in the gender that feels right to them; their gender presentation, the way they live their lives, is dependant on their internal sense of gender, their subconscious sex. So, I live my life as a woman, a trans man lives his life as a man. Most choose hormone treatment, as it really helps both gender presentation and an internal sense of calm. Less, but still many, choose surgery.

I think children should be allowed to present as who they are. A kid has a better sense of who she is than anyone else, and if she chooses to dress as a girl, and play with girls, even though she has a penis, she should be allowed to do that. Not encouraged – but not discouraged, either. So gender presentation transition should happen as soon as there is an awareness of it. Many parents are starting to do this, and I applaud them. Again and again, I see that trusting kids about their own lives is the best way to go.

Hormone therapy shouldn't start until secondary sex characteristics begin following puberty, and the best way to do that is probably to avoid taking actual hormones at first, and just take hormone blockers. I don't know if there are blockers for female hormones, but there are effective androgen blockers, which can delay the development of secondary sex characteristics until the child is fully confident that this is the direction she wishes to go. In the case of female-to-male transition, this can prevent the need for breast removal surgery; and male-to-female people can prevent the need for painful and expensive electrolysis.

As for surgery, I think that should wait until a child reaches majority, and can make that decision with full awareness of risks and consequences, fully as their own responsibility. No other person should bear that burden.

I believe that this is the best way to support the mental health of trans people, the best way to integrate them into the lives they will lead, and the best way to honor their individuality. I recognize that others, including trans people may disagree, and I welcome comment and discussion on the subject.

And the DSM-IV is still full of crap.

Girlfriends

Last night I was listening to a song by Mana. I closed my eyes and picked out the various parts – two acoustic guitars, keyboard, bass, drums and percussion – hearing how they played off each other and blended into this incredible beauty of sound. I thought of how Kristin and the boys are learning music, and often play together both with Ken, their teacher, and with each other in practice. I thought how much fun it would be to join with them, though I've been resisting for some time now because I just don't have the time to learn music. Then I reflected on the many times I've tried to learn to play an instrument – drums, guitar, banjo, jews harp, harmonica. I never learned any of them, and thinking back, it seems to me the reason is I never played with anyone else. I never got lessons, never played with peers. For me, like everything else, learning music was a solitary experience.

Then I got to thinking about why that might be. Part of it – maybe most of it – is because I never had friends I could share that with. I noticed that my entire life, I could make only the most shallow friendships, because my primary goal in any relationship was to protect myself – to avoid revealing who I really am, to keep my deepest thoughts and desires secret to myself alone.

The overriding reason I wanted to keep myself private was shame.

I was so deeply ashamed of myself for those thoughts, desires, and experiences that reflect who I am. I was ashamed because I saw that my own experience was so different from everyone else's; because I simply could not relate those thoughts, desires, and experiences to the male role models in my life – at least, not in a deep, personal, and gendered way.

While there are many activities in life that are not gendered – woodworking, chess, gardening, the list goes on forever – there are no relationships that are not gendered. I relate differently depending on who I'm relating with, and gender is part of that relation. Even my relationship with myself is gendered. Women relate differently when they are in a women only group vs. mixed company, men do the same. Mostly, I think, people accept these differences for granted, perhaps don't even notice them. For me, they dominated every social experience.

Because I was so deeply ashamed of who I was, I tried to relate to people according to my sex, and because doing so meant I could not relate in a genuinely gendered way, I could not reveal enough of who I was, even with my most intimate friends, to share real intimacy.

In short, I never learned how to be a friend. Others related with me in the fullness of who they are, and I responded with a deep reserve and definite deception. I related with a mask, an assumed persona I'd pieced together to disguise my real self.

As I reflected on my current life, this became very clear, because I am finally learning how to be, and what it means to be, a friend. It's a matter of baby-steps, of stumbling in the dusk. I still don't have the basic skills of friendship down, by any means. However, I am relating in the wholeness of who I am, and that is bringing incredible changes.

I have real women friends now. These are the people most responsible for my new growth. This is the growing richness of my life. Girlfriends. I am finally welcomed into the social role where I belong. No longer am I isolated, an outsider in every social situation, an interloper who feels out of place. I can be myself, and people actually like me.

I cannot relate to you how incredibly beautiful that is, to belong, to be myself, to relate to others as fully human. This is the best thing, for me, about my transition. Women friends. Honesty. Relating fully, no longer isolated and alone, no longer a square peg in a round hole, but real, comfortable. I am just me. I cannot find words to express the sense of wholeness I have found. It is a pearl of great price.

To the extent that my body does not match my gender, it affects how people relate to me. But the need for human, intimate connection is so great and so basic to our humanity, to feeling and expressing love, so essential to our development and survival, that I will change my body as much as I possibly can to achieve that fullness of social connection. I cannot do otherwise. I am amazed that I stayed alive for so long without that intimacy. Kristin is responsible, of course. I was able to forge a relationship, cobbled together out of my deceptive persona and elements of my real self, with her that was sufficiently intimate to survive, and her love sustained me for 15 years. Yet there is no doubt in my mind that if I had not transitioned, I would now be dead. I simply could not survive in that vacuum of my own soul, in that social and personal isolation, much longer.

There are still a lot of aspects of being transgendered that suck. I hate parts of my body. They betray me. They are completely dysfunctional to who I am. Every day, throughout the day, they rear up and show me how still incomplete are my social relations. The pain of them is constant and unremitting. God, how I wish I could change them! But they do not dominate my life. I have hope. I have meaning. I have girlfriends.

Gender Identity

This is based on a comment from Chairm, in my discussion with Jose at Opine:

Gender is a lot more than a social assumption. This is the same mistake many feminists make in their effort to break free of the restrictive gender roles of our patriarchal culture – they mistake gender roles for gender (or vice versa). Gender is our subjective, "sexual Self-Map, how we feel ourselves to be: male or female." (Bushong) "Like pain, it is unambiguously felt but one is unable to prove or display it to others. One's subjective gender is just as real and immalleable as one's physical gender but unfortunately not recognized in our culture."

So while it is true that I am not a genetic woman, and cannot share the complete experience of what that means (as far as the physical, embodied experience of living in a female body, and also as far as socialization from birth), it is at least as true to say I am a woman as it is to say I am a man. Probably more so, because gender identity certainly appears to be more immalleable than physical bodies.

In the same way, can you say whether an intersexed person is a man or a woman? Their bodies are ambiguous; so my gender is ambiguous. I'm neither man nor woman, but transwoman – some of both. I choose to live as a woman because it's a lot more comfortable. And that's not a bad thing, even though our culture works hard to make it so. It just is. It's beautiful in its own right. Between day and night is the beauty of twilight.

Gender is not plastic, but gender roles are. Gender roles are defined and delineated by culture and society, and they change over time and from place to place, culture to culture. When I speak of living in the role of a woman, I'm speaking of sharing that gender role with other women in our culture.

Given our culture and the discrepancy between sex and gender (or physical gender and gender identity), one of the biggest challenges faced by transpeople is integrating mind and body. Certainly that's been one of the hardest things I've tried to do, but, thankfully, I have had some success with it. I've still got plenty of room to grow there, but it is, I think, an important – maybe the most important – aspect of the peace that fills my life. I believe that there is a Universal Being (usually called God) which creates us all – Life, Love, Mind. Which means that I have a purpose in being a female person in a male body. That purpose is to love, but it must also be more – perhaps to demonstrate the integration of male and female aspects in the fullness of humanity, I don't know. Or maybe it's just a cozmic joke. :-)

OFNR

If y'all are bored with my conversation with Jose, please let me know, and I'll stop re-posting stuff over here. Meanwhile, while he's thinking about my last post (and perhaps trolling the internet for information to refute the study I cited), I brought up NVC:

"As an aside, while you catch up with your deadlines or whatever you’re doing, I decided to go back to something you said in the comment dated 1/10/09:"

Let me say Seda that when I first read your comments you sounded like a man trying to sound feminine. The comments sounded affected. All that schmaltz didn't sound real to me. It was as if you thought women were immersed in fuzzy-feely expressions and therefore you had to express yourself that way. You were forever reveling in your feelings and even now you are immersed in your sadness which is probably more related to feigning offense because I do not accept your illusion of what you are. Like so many men who imagine themselves women it sounded like a caricature of femininity.

"I found your comment rather ironic, as my frequent references to feelings (especially when I first began to comment on your blog, was my attempt to use Nonviolent Communication (NVC) to connect with y’all. NVC was developed by Marshall Rosenberg, a cisgendered man who’s been married for probably 50 years at least, as a means to connect with people to resolve conflicts by relating to feelings and needs, rather than speaking in judgments and evaluations. Believe it or not, it works – at least, most of the time. :-) In the jargon, there’s something called OFNR – “observation, feeling, need, request.” The idea is to make a clear, concrete observation, then relate it to a feeling (emotion) you have or you guess the other has. Needs, in this case, are universal. You then connect the feeling to the need unmet that stimulated the feeling. At the end, you make a clear, doable request that the person can act on immediately. Example: “When you scream at me, I feel scared, because I have needs for safety and respect that aren’t met. Would you be willing to step out of the room until you calm down?” The website for the Center for Nonviolent Communication is www.cnvc.org; for more specific info on OFNR, try http://www.cnvc.org/en/what-nvc/nvc-model/2-parts-and-4-components-nvc.

"If you look back at my early comments, you’ll probably notice I wasn’t too hung up on the exact form of OFNR. The real idea is to connect – which, mostly, I didn’t do with y’all as much as I would like, though I think I did connect a little bit a few times. You probably will notice, though, quite a few feelings being linked to needs. What I find ironic about this, is that you immediately thought my use of OFNR sounded “like a man trying to sound feminine.” It “sounded like a caricature of femininity.” Yet I was making absolutely no effort to speak in any gendered way at all – I was using a discrete system of communication developed by a cisgendered man!"

(Actually, the example I used wasn't that great, since 'scream' could easily be considered an evaluation.)

Be that as it may Seda, you thereby affirm that my observation of it being contrived and affected is correct. I mentioned that this was simply a subjective conjecture. You may still subconsciously approach this as being a suave "feminine" form of expression but we need not labor the point.

"Jose, The point of NVC is to communicate with another person in a way that conveys respect and honors their humanity. I would really enjoy it if anyone from Opine tried to communicate that way with me - no matter how "contrived" it might sound.

"And no, I don't use NVC, and especially OFNR (which, as you point out, often sounds contrived), to sound "feminine," I use it because I don't know a better method of connecting in a way that conveys the respect and love I want to convey, while also honoring and respecting myself."

Also, BTW, if anyone familiar with it wants to critique my description and use of NVC here, please do!

Does It Matter Why?

Jose's and my conversation continues:

Thorough responses to what you say may have to wait awhile as I'm getting bogged down in numerous tasks with deadlines. I hope that you do not react with any offense at what I can briefly say at this point. I am cutting to the chase. What you tell me is filled with platitudes and clichés. You talk about perceiving yourself as female but this "perception" can only be based on fantasy and imagination because as I mentioned before you have no foundation on which to base such a perception. It can be derived only from appearances of womanhood and that general sense that is inherent in all men. It cannot be grounded on anything of substance. Woman is not a phantasm, an image. Woman cannot be disembodied!! Only an image of woman can exist separate from the body of a woman. The realization, the experience of real woman can come only in relationship to the body of a woman.

You say, "I am not even that feminine of a woman." But that's simply because you are not. You might have the "femininity" of a man but that is light years away from being a woman. It's a different dimension.

I can give you a reference that might help. Be assured that you will not be helped by relying on varied large cohorts of psychotherapists as they cannot even really agree among themselves. They are mostly concerned these days with making politically correct assessments with lots of "psychologees" jargon but devoid of objective substance. Try beginning a study of Carl Jung's analytical psychology. Forget most contemporary Jungians and learn from the old masters. They will give you a better understanding of coming to terms with the "woman" in you with whom you identify.

Do you have actual evidence of having any morphological irregularities, female anything? I address every person's condition and situation individually. Referring to the particular conditions of other people does not benefit understanding yourself since you do have those attributes or physical traits/organs. Let's not bring in non-related conditions in the effort to justify your perceptions/imaginings. Time is short and of the essence. I cannot get into an entire therapeutic session so I must speak briefly and "mercilessly," that is, without concern for what I see as your cherished perceptions, fantasies and obsessions. It's a "cold turkey" approach. If it helps, great. If not, I did what I could. Ultimately it's your journey, a most arduous one. All I can do is break down your irrational, unfounded opinions of yourself.

Peace.

Jose,
No fear on thorough responses. I’m pinched for time, too.

You speak in absolutes – “…can only be based on fantasy…,” “…can only be derived …,” etc. What is the source of your confidence? Jungian psychoanalysis? Your own reason? The Bible? What is it? What is it in your background that gives you authority about gender dysphoria that is superior to the lives of thousands of transpeople and their therapists, including everyone associated with WPATH?

You speak of my obsessions. Yet for most of my life I was obsessed with being a man, and that was my desire. I fought against my own nature. It was only the depths of despair, the brink of suicide, that enabled me to accept who I am.

You say I speak in “platitudes and clichés,” implying that therefore my own testimony is faulty and does not represent any objective reality. I suggest you ask Kristin about it. She was with me every step of my transition, and witnessed my path for the last seventeen years.

I never claimed, nor do I claim, that I am or ever was a “real,” cisgendered, XX chromosome woman. I’m a transwoman. That means my gender is different from my sex, and yes, despite your absolute certainty, that is possible. The body morphology I suspect is not visible in a living human, and cannot be found without a thorough and very expensive autopsy. This study is too small to be conclusive, and, so far as I know, has not had peer review. However, it does present evidence of a physical condition that justifies my own experience and perception of myself, as well as the experience of thousands if not millions of other transpeople. You, of course, have the choice to blow it off and continue your delusions of “impossibility,” but I entertain the possibility that this may be the source of my condition.

I’ll note here also, on the question of psychoanalysis, that I spent over two years in therapy prior to seeking a specialist in gender dysphoria. At least eighteen months of that were spent with a very competent therapist who knew little about GID. We worked through a ton of issues, including a lot of childhood trauma, and she tried very hard to show me that my perception of femininity was not inherent. And yet, she did not dent it. Obsessed as I was with manhood and trying to hold onto my family and position in society, once the scales of denial fell away from my eyes, I could not put them back on.

Beyond that, there is my own life experience. That experience is that when I stopped obsessing about being a man, and accepted that I wasn’t, I could focus my life on other things, and just be. My experience of being a man devolved into an absolute hell of psychic isolation and depression that left me incompetent to function as a parent and unable to concentrate on my work. In contrast, every step I took in transitioning to presenting and living as a woman brought intense relief, as if lifting an enormous burden from my shoulders. The confusion that tortured my life for so many years fell away, and in its place I found clarity. As I relaxed into being a woman, I could finally concentrate on my work, so much so that I not only do my job with competence, confidence and focus, I also was able to take on a role on the board of a nonprofit and sit on a citizen’s advisory committee for my city for the past year, while also writing a novel and a blog. Best of all – the most precious gift I can imagine – I found myself parenting my children fully, with a completely open heart. Last summer I overheard my son talking to one of his friends. His friend asked him, “Don’t you miss having a dad?” Trinidad answered, “No. I like her better as a woman.” At Christmas, he asked me, “Maddy, how long ago was it that you transitioned to being a woman?” “A year and a half,” I answered. “Why? Do you miss having me as a dad?” “No!” said, positively. “I like you better as a woman.”

So, Jose, I ask you this: Even if you are right – even assuming that I am now confused and living a fantasy – does that really matter? If so, why? Does it matter why or how I came to be this way, if being this way not only gives me the peace and joy I live, but enables me to better parent my children, relate to my friends and loved ones, and contribute to a peaceful and functional society? Why would even you want me to go back to that misery I lived as a man, where I would be far more likely to end up as a burden to society than as a contributor to it?

One last note: You said you could “give me a reference that might help,” but only offered the generality of studying Jungian psychology. That’s a big subject. Do you have any specific reference?

Be well.

To Be a Man...

Jose is not commenting here, but he did me the courtesy of a reply on Opine. Here it is:

Ah Seda, I never said it would be easy. It's just that there is no other way to be what you are made to be, a whole fully integrated person. I don't look at you with contempt. I see you only as a suffering and confused human being for whom I have nothing but compassion. I do see you as a person obsessed with the desire to be a woman, which is not unlike any number of other obsessions that people have to obtain something impossible. They obtain some relief from the obsession when they convince themselves that they have arrived at some similacrum of what they desired.

From what you say your efforts to be a man have been quite confused. You don't have to try to be a man because you are a man. You apparently were chasing stereotypes of masculinity. That's all nonsense about macho images of "a powerful brand of masculinity that is clean and real" on the Wyoming ranch. It's pure stereotyping and then to pursue this macho fantasy you join the Marine Corps, probably the worst thing you could have done. And you go on in this Quixotic quest for manhood by getting into logging and commercial fishing. Tough super macho stereotypes. The very quests you undertook to obtain manhood demonstrate that you were indeed labeling yourself a woman or being womanish and you were lying to yourself because you were trying to become some image of man. You coveted the deeds and exploits of certain men. There are women that can do those things also and some confuse themselves into imagining they are men or manlike.

It's like the story of that poor soul who goes all over the world seeking God or enlightenment and when he finally encounters an honest and knowing person he is told that he could have had both right in his own back yard. That actually, all the time he was "searching" or "striving" he was really fleeing from God, from himself and from his responsibilities.

Seda, you are a man. Accept it. There is no need for you to continually refer to yourself as a woman. Drop it. Men can be ballet dancers and chefs and artists and poets. They can be highly refined and sensitive. They can be in touch with their feelings and they can cry. They can have a great many of the social contructs generally associated with femininity by the ignorant. They can be married or single, sexually active or celibate. Don't try to be a man and don't call yourself a woman. If you don't try to be a man then you cannot fail at being a man. You simply are because you cannot be anything else.

Peace.

Jose,
I appreciate your concern, and your compassion. Actually, that compassion is welcome. Thank you.

From the description I gave you of my efforts to “be a man,” I can understand why you drew the conclusions you did. You are absolutely right that my efforts to be a man have “been quite confused.” One thing fishing did for me, though, was free me from any need to link my behavior to my gender. I stopped “chasing stereotypes of masculinity” almost twenty years ago. I can cut down a tree or change the oil in the car or build a treehouse or play chess or fix the kitchen sink perfectly comfortably as a woman, but doing them as a man is – well, uncomfortable. My connection to gender is relational and psychological.

For instance, from the first time I entered men’s space, way back in grade school, I’ve been uncomfortable there. Through high school locker rooms, Marine Corps squadbays, and fishing boat cabins, I felt like an interloper, at best vaguely uneasy, always with a sense that I did not belong. Yet, from the first moment I was allowed into women’s space, I felt completely comfortable and at home. I belonged. Any time the sexes separate into their own space, I want to be where the women are – not because the conversation is more interesting (it often isn’t), but because I belong.

From the first time I remember trying it – I was 6 or 7 years old – I have always been more comfortable in women’s clothes than in men’s clothes.

Living as a man, I was unable to relate to people in a way that established a fully integrated and honest connection. That was true in my most stereotypically masculine moments, but also it is true whenever I relate to others as male, whether I fully embrace my femininity in the moment or not. That social isolation is an incredibly corrosive thing, and it gets worse with time. The way that men and women interact with each other is different, and when I interact as a man, it is unnatural and I cannot relate honestly and openly. The result is a social isolation that is, perhaps, almost like solitary confinement. It is not me interacting, then, it is a stage presence, an act, a lie. And the people who interact with me do not interact with me, they interact with that lie.

Also, living as a man, I lacked any sense of personal integrity. That wasn’t just in my “masculine” pursuits. Prior to accepting that I’m a woman, I had no honor, no integrity. Oh, I tried. I knew intellectually what was right and wrong. Yet I had no real conscience, and cheated and lied and stole almost without regret. Yet, almost immediately upon committing to my transition, I found integrity became incredibly important. Those opportunities that arise where dishonest material gain without consequences offer, became not only easily refuted, they were no longer even tempting. Now, I absolutely treasure my integrity. It is one of the best things I’ve gained from my transition.

Then there is my subconscious. Dreams, including recurring nightmares of intense violence. I blogged about it here: http://silknvoice.blogspot.com/2008/08/dreams.html. And perhaps more profound, my instinctive reactions to the act of sex, which I will not discuss in detail here. The little jolt of surprise that always flashes by when I look in a mirror. You speak of me being a “fully integrated person,” yet it is far easier to integrate my female gender with my male body than it is to integrate any sense of myself – my gender – as male.

You say I “don’t have to try to be a man because [I am] a man.” Yet, when I still my inner voice, when I just exist, as I am, I perceive myself as female.

Had it been possible, it would have been so much easier and more comfortable to embrace this sort of feminine manhood you describe, rather than transition. It was simply not possible to do. I’m not even that feminine of a woman.

You do, I assume, acknowledge the existence of genetic and morphological irregularities, like Klinefelder’s Syndrome (XXY chromosomes), XYY chromosomes, Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (AIS), and intersexed (those with ambiguous genetalia). While I have yet to see any Opiner refer to any of these conditions as anything except an “exception” for which “concessions” can be made, even that is acknowledgement of a sort. Why is it so difficult for you to even entertain the possibility that some genetic or hormonal or congenital condition may create a female brain morphology in an otherwise male body?

You speak with great confidence, even authority. Yet your recommendations and assumptions conflict with the life experience of thousands if not millions of transsexuals – and their therapists. I’d really like to hear what the source of your confidence and authority is.

Be well.

***

Jose is right with his analogy about the man who went searching everywhere else for God. I did that for years. And finally, I discovered that what I was seeking - myself - was right here all the time. I just couldn't see her, because her body didn't look right.

If Only It Were That Easy…

Jose made the following comment on Opine, and I decided to publish my reply here, too:

To be completely what you are you need first want to change from being what your are not. You must of course find a reason to change, which objectively should not be difficult. This is most important but even before you find the reason you can stop the behaviors. Behavior number one to stop is referring to yourself as a woman!! You have never been a women and cannot possibly understand what it is to be a real woman. Living with a menstrual cycle and the entire biology, e.g., reproductive, mammary, etc. of a woman is completely out of a man's realm and it defines womanhood. This understanding and experience is a total impossibility for you and you must therefore face the reality of your body. Whatever effected your mental imaginings of being a woman you must renounce continuously as an absurdity. No amount of dismembering can ever conform your body to that of a woman's and so the only road to harmony between psyche and soma is through a psychological change to conform with your physical condition.

One of the gravest problems with this entire gender identity confusion is that it prompts people to label themselves and then they get themselves stuck in the label they have given themselves. To escape you must first break that label. You are a man. Reject all those myths about being a woman in the body of a man.

Ah, Jose, if only it were that easy.

You are right about some things. You are right that I am not a woman, that I can never have that experience of menstruation, of pregnancy and birthing and nursing, of socialization from the earliest age, of hormonal balance that is complete and cyclic, which fully defines (along with so much else) the life of a genetic, cisgendered woman. You are right that my body can never conform to that of a woman.

But you are dead wrong when you say that I am a man.

You can have no concept of how hard I fought to be one. I grew up on a ranch in Wyoming, and the men I idolized and found strangely mysterious rode to a powerful brand of masculinity that is clean and real, and that I admire to this day. I tried – oh, god how I tried! – to be like them, but all I could ever do was copy them. So I joined the Marine Corps, and four years later drifted out of that even more confused than I went in. I claimed I was a man, and I did everything I could to prove it. I tried logging and commercial fishing, and over six years racked up more than three years of sea time in the Bering Sea and among the Aleutian Islands. Look at the photo toward the bottom of my blog. Does it look like I labeled myself a woman there? Yet there the hollow ache of deception and isolation made my life as bleak as the Bering Sea in January.

Because I was lying to myself.

Over fourteen years of marriage I fought to force my sexuality and my identity to conform to my body. Fourteen years of intimacy in which I found simultaneously a growing isolation. I wish I could show you, in some way, the depth of loneliness, the black depression, the quiet desperation, the nightmares, the self-hatred, the truly depraved testosterone-driven fantasies that drove me so close to suicide that sometimes I'm surprised to see that I am still alive.

I chose transition because integrity, self-respect, honesty, and genuine human connection became so important to me that I could no longer live without them. Call it selfish if you want, but I did it so that my children would have two living parents, two parents who could care for them and love them fully. I did it so that they would not have a model of patriarchal suicide to draw them to an easy and permanent solution to the problems they may come to face.

Today, Jose, I am free. The nightmares have faded away. The depression is almost gone. I have rich and wonderful friendships. I actively participate in my community, and in parenting my children. I have discovered honor and integrity, and my life has meaning and purpose. No, it's not perfect. My body is what it is. I risked the loss of my entire family, and lost my wife, and a friend. There are many in society who, like you, look at me with contempt, and many who will judge me harshly for what I did to Kristin and my children. But there is no way I can ever imagine wanting to go back to that bleak hell that was pretending to be a man.

In sum, I have tried what you suggest, and utterly failed. Not once, or twice, but continuously for forty years.

I wish I could ask that you even try to understand, but I think I would be wasting my breath. I will ask you this, though: Are you really so confident that your understanding of my psyche exceeds my own?

***

To be honest, the things Jose said on that post hurt. I'm just going to honor myself here with a little self-empathy, because, frankly, I need it. I'd really like to be seen for who I am. I would love to be understood, and respected. I bet Jose could really relate to those needs. And I feel better, now.

Sex and Gender

An interesting dialogue is starting up between Jose (mentioned in a previous post) and I, here and here, for those readers who are interested in gender dysphoria and the meaning of sex and gender. Any transpeople out there want to chime in?

(Warning - I don't believe Jose will see you. Don't expect it. Any comment, on his blog or mine, should be made for the sake of other readers; however, I do request that you seek to understand Jose and not condemn him.)

The Power of Coming Out

Since beginning transition, at least four different people have contacted me with their own transgendered dilemmas. Three of them were completely or almost completely in the closet, while all sought connection and common ground. I have been able to share with them my experience and understanding, and that in turn has, I believe, moved each to some degree, relieving loneliness, anxiety, and isolation. My visibility has provided comfort for other lonely souls.

Gender dysphoria is an incredibly lonely condition. I remember when I was a kid, the great aching loneliness that filled my days. I was afraid to share with anyone – even the closest members of my family, my parents and siblings – who I was, my deepest desires, my aspirations, my own character. Not only did I fear the ridicule that I would have received, I didn't understand why I was so different from everyone else – why I wanted so much to do girl things, why it was so hard to connect with boys, why I didn't like what they liked. I just knew I didn't fit in – anywhere. Forming my presentation around a model of gender that was completely extrinsic, I could not relate to people as I was, and so I developed my skill at deception – and that disguised my own loneliness and inadequacy in a vain attempt to fit in, which only left me lonelier than ever.

It is that effort to hide one's self, based on needs for safety and connection, that makes transgendered people so lonely, so socially isolated. It is different for me now. Sure, I'm cut off from some people – those who don't understand, or who think that their God really hates people like me and so they should, too, or whatever – but I'm fully connected with so many more. I no longer spend my time developing and perfecting deception. I live openly and honestly, and that honesty has penetrated to every aspect of my life. Where I used to act in minor dishonest ways, lying or cheating or even stealing, I now rebel against those temptations, and really don't even find them tempting. Dishonesty now feels not like something natural and integral in my life, but like a desecration of it.

So the greatest value of transition for me is the redemption of my own character. And, close behind it, is my ability to connect with community, with other people – an end to loneliness. People see that, and respond to it. And other lonely souls, suffering from gender dysphoria, find connection and, I think, comfort.

There is power in coming out. It is social power – and it is also spiritual power.

How Good Life Is

In my last post, I spoke about dysphoria – how bad life is. It's dangerous to do that. Sometimes people think that's what your life is, and when you recount your problems, it can look pretty bad. Kinda like when you look at a rose. If all you focus on is the aphids, you can miss the blossoms altogether.

This is a post about blossoms.

For starters, my job is fun and challenging, and I'm valued and supported in it, not only by management and co-workers, but by my union. I work with interesting and diverse people. My pay is fair and adequate (barely) to support my family on one income. And I get to make a positive contribution to the well-being of my community. Yep, you guessed it – I'm a bureaucrat!

I live in a place that is incredibly blessed by nature. It is so beautiful here – mountains rising high to snow-capped peaks in the east, lush forested hills to the west and south, the ocean just a couple of hours away. Even in winter, when the rains pour down day after day, the world looks green. Mushrooms grow profusely in the fall (did I tell you I love hunting mushrooms?). My own backyard is filled with fruit trees and wildflowers, and sometimes we hear raccoons walk across the roof at night, or see them in the early morning, picking snails off the greens, smacking them on the deck to break the shells, then delicately gobbling them up with both hands.

And my neighborhood is a delight. There are lots of kids, next door and down the block, to play with mine. When I came out to them, everyone embraced me, and everyone supports me. My next door neighbors are from Silverton, Oregon, where they just elected the first openly transgendered mayor in the nation. If we run out of eggs or ace bandages, a quick walk up the block gives us a choice of half a dozen or more families who will be glad to share – and they know they're welcome to come to us when they need something.

Last post I talked about what's wrong with my body, but there's probably more right about it than wrong. I'm healthy. My mind is healthy, and I can't tell you how good that feels! I can walk and run and grasp and see and hear and taste and smell and feel – both pain and pleasure. I ride my bike to work nearly every day, and I have a pretty awesome health insurance package (except it doesn't include full transgender care).

Then there are my friends. Oh, joyous, wondrous friends! How grateful I am for you all. Incredibly – or perhaps naturally – my friendships have blossomed and deepened and multiplied since coming out and living as I am, as a woman. How delicious, to share support with you, to learn and teach, to grow, to connect, to dream, to share. Oh, yes, I am blessed.

Even better, my family. Kristin, my best friend and co-parent, and my boys. How rich is the love in which I reside. How varied and interesting and connected my life is because of them.

Best of all, my life is rich with meaning and purpose. Participation in a citizen's committee that works to make our city a better place. Letters to my sister that buoy her in her challenge, which is far more difficult than mine. Connection and sharing with friends and family. My novel, a work eight years in the process, still growing and getting better. All the skills and knowledge I've acquired in my life, and all I'm still learning and have yet to begin. This blog, where I reach out to people, friends, family, and total strangers, across our nation and the world, and the blogs of others, where I try to create peace and to support and defend my LGBT people. And nature, that wondrous web of life that fills every corner, that intricate, delicate, and persistent web of Life that is Mother Earth, that nurtures and embraces us all as close and loving as a mother the baby in her womb.

Don't get me wrong. Gender dysphoria sucks, and it hurts. It has stolen many experiences and relationships that I miss deeply. But bridging the gap between male and female has its blessings. It is precious in its own right, a creation of Universal Love as real and rich as twilight, which bridges the gap between day and night. Even that – my biggest challenge, my greatest pain, my nemesis – bears surprising insights, experiences, and relationships that form and enrich my life.

Yes, I'll be back, bitching about my body again. You can bet on it. But keep it in perspective. I certainly intend to.

Dysphoria

For the last few days I've been feeling some pretty intense body dysphoria. I look at my skinny hips and tiny butt and I hate them, because they don't fit my clothes and they look so ugly. I look at my genitals, and I hate them, because they prevent the intimacy I so desire. I look at my massive chest and wide shoulders, and I hate them, because they are so unfeminine.

But then last night I dreamed that I was confined in a wheelchair. It was very vivid. I rolled down a curb cutout, and because I wasn't used to the chair I lost control and fell off into the street, and I was helpless to get back into the chair. It was so real that when I awoke, it took me a moment to remember that I really can use my legs.

And I thought, maybe this body isn't so bad.

It could be a lot worse.

On the other hand, maybe the dream reflects the reality that, in a sense, I am disabled – even though my arms and legs move like water.

Some people believe that our bodies reflect who we are; that we are our bodies. This is so not true. Ask any transperson. Ask Steven Hawking. Ask Helen Keller (okay, she's dead; so channel her through a medium). The soul, the person, that spark of life that resides behind the eyes or in the heart, that animates the body and moves it from place to place, is independent of and separate from the body, and if your body reflects who you really are, that is just luck. My body is no part of me. It doesn't even belong to me. It's somebody else's, and I don't know how I ended up in it. It's just the vessel that carries me from place to place, in which I am trapped.

Teaching Tolerance

This post by Riftgirl is one that I highly recommend everyone read - especially if they have any kids or grandkids who are or will be in school.

Dysphoria

One of the best things about blogs is that you can put anything you want to on your blog. I just wrote a poem, so I’m gonna post it because I feel like it. Then you can experience one of the best things about poetry (mine, anyway), which is that you don’t have to read it. I have some great links down below on the left…

Dysphoria

This psychic itch leaves no peace.
It aches when lovers hold hands, snuggle close and touch lips; a hand on her butt, the little arch of a woman’s head leaning close.

There is no scratching it, reaching under a turtleneck, or behind my back where my bra fastens and my fingers don’t reach. The only way to overcome the itch move my brain away from my body, sex, now to esoteric, spiritual, material and not connected to me.

It itches in the ladies' room, strong now, can’t ignore it.
Still can’t scratch it.
Forget it. Focus on not my face not my hands on chocolate.

Chocolate is the same in any body, melts in the mouth to forget.

Beautiful woman and the itch goes deep that could be me could be not not not Look away, the sun is shining, blue sky smiles.

And that cute guy, the itch reaches deep deep a hollow
in the belly dancer deeper no escape.

No nails, no fingers can scratch this itch, no, it takes a scalpel.
Just want to scratch.

Make it stop.

The Traditional Values Coalition

For some reason, there are a number of groups willing to commit lots of resources to prevent transpeople from getting legal protection from discrimination. I'm not sure why they care one way or another, except it seems that they fear the existence of transpeople threatens to expose their particular interpretation of sacred texts as erroneous. One of these is the Traditional Values Coalition, which published this report.

I don't want to waste a lot of time deconstructing this article (which is not attributed to any author), but there were a couple of things that popped out at me when I read this. The first:

"The promotion of 'sex changes,' and the normalizing of severe gender identity disorders by radical feminists, pro-same-sex attraction disorder activists, and sexual revolutionaries is part of their larger agenda—namely the destabilization of the categories of sex and gender."

Actually, my agenda is truth and freedom. I have no desire to destabilize anything, except the domination culture that is unsustainable anyway. I do desire to expand the awareness of the limitations placed on people by stereotypical gender roles, so that people who choose to follow them may do so mindfully and consciously.

O'Leary notes that radicals and medical professionals who promote sex change operations are operating under the delusion that one's gender is changeable. One cannot change into a different sex. It is genetically and medically impossible. Gender confused individuals need long-term counseling, not approval for what is clearly a mental disturbance.

O'Leary is obviously mistaking sex and gender as being the same thing. Sex is your body; gender is your soul. It's true that gender is unchangeable, and that's the point. That's why sex reassignment surgery is recommended as a last resort. And you don't get it without long-term counseling.

A boy who has developed a Gender Identity Disorder such as homosexuality or transvestism, typically comes from a home where the mother is smothering in her love and where the father is passive and feels powerless to overcome his wife's dominance in the family.

Gee. That doesn't match my own family's dynamic at all, nor does it account for the normality of my siblings. Studies have also found physical difference in brain structure between cisgendered and transgendered individuals.

According to these activists, a person can self-identify and be whatever he or she wishes to be sexually.

How can anyone identify another? The only real identity is self-identity, because the only person you can really know completely is yourself (though most people don't even know that).

Yet, the reality is that no person can actually change into a different sex. Maleness and femaleness are in the DNA and are unchangeable. A man who has his sex organ removed and takes hormone treatments to grow female breasts is still genetically a male.

Well, duh.

No rational person would claim that he or she has the "right" to define his own gender.

How can any rational person abdicate their right to define themselves to someone else? Who else possibly can have that right?

Transgenders Are Mentally Disordered. The American Psychiatric Association (APA) still lists Transsexualism and Transvestism as paraphilias or mental disorders in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-IV-TR).

Yet they've got a 0% cure rate via psychological or psychiatric care, and 98% satisfaction via medical treatment allowing life in one's 'chosen' gender. If it's a mental disorder, why do they recommend medical procedures and non-psychiatric drugs to treat it?

These are deeply troubled individuals who need professional help, not societal approval or affirmation.

Then why are we suicidal before transition, and happy, productive members of society after? Why does professional help guide us into transition, even while acting as our gatekeepers?

It's amazing how much we've eroded our society.

Ah. The crux of the matter. It's all about fear. They are scared. Scared of the unknown; of things that go bump in the night. I wish I could ease their fears for them. It's okay. We won't hurt you. We won't call down the wrath of God on you. And God won't hurt you if you let us be.

Schroer Decision!

Way back in June, I blogged about Diane Schroer and the discrimination she experienced in trying to get a job. Well, a decision has finally been handed down, and the Federal District Court for the District of Columbia found in her favor. Very cool.

One thing I found interesting about the case was the statement below, taken from Dr. Weiss's blog post:

"Charlotte Preece, the decisonmaker, admitted that when she viewed the photographs of Schroer in traditionally feminine attire, with a feminine hairstyle and makeup, she saw a man in women's clothing. In conversations Preece had with colleagues at the Library after her lunch with Schroer, she repeatedly mentioned these photographs. Preece testified that her difficulty comprehending Schroer's decision to undergo a gender transition was heightened because she viewed David Schroer not just as a man, but, in light of her Special Forces background, as a particularly masculine kind of man. Preece's perception of David Schroer as especially masculine made it all the more difficult for her to visualize Diane Schroer as anyone other than a man in a dress. Preece admitted that she believed that others at CRS, as well as Members of Congress and their staffs, would not take Diane Schroer seriously
because they, too, would view her as a man in women's clothing."

I find this cultural assumption that your body defines who you are incredibly painful. It virtually makes me invisible. If you look at me and see a man in woman's clothing, you don't see me, you don't understand me, you don't believe in me. And that hurts.

I'm a woman in a man's body. That is very different. My clothing tells you that's who I am, as well as every other signifier I can come up with. Yeah, I know it's not perfect. It's like a big birthmark all over my face, or a hunchback. There's only so much I can change. And I'm very grateful that so many people see me for who I am, including one friend who didn't realize I could donate sperm for a possible pregnancy until she thought about it for a minute.

But I'm off the subject. I just want to take a minute to celebrate this landmark decision – another step forward for equal rights.

Hope

It seems strange to think of a radical surgical change to a perfectly healthy body with hope. Yet that is my current attitude.

SRS, or GCS, as it is sometimes called, costs between $15,000 and $20,000 – and usually, it isn't covered by health insurance. It's not covered in my plan. And that doesn't count travel and other costs involved.

I have nothing saved – not a cent. It doesn't matter. Hope rises so optimistically in my heart that I am seeking out surgeons and the letters that they require prior to sharpening their scalpels and inverting those "willies," as my friend Devin puts it. That's because I have so many friends and supporters, and I also have resources that I believe will come into play.

Besides, when you commit completely to a course of action, the universe steps in to help. Just look at what happened when Julius Caesar landed on Britain and then burned all his boats.

Lemme see … where're those matches?

Surgery and the DSM-IV

I went on the HRC website the other day, and found that 78 companies now offer comprehensive health care for transpeople. San Francisco does, too. By comprehensive, I mean that they offer at least some benefit for SRS/GCS. That's pretty remarkable in itself, but what I found especially remarkable is the impact that this benefit had on San Francisco.

In 2001, San Fran projected they'd have to deal with 35 operations a year, so they started charging their employees $1.70/month. Three years later, with over $4 million saved and only $156,000 spent, they lowered the surcharge to $1.16/month. That was still too much, so in 2006 they dropped the surcharge altogether.

"In other words, transgender people were not flocking to work for the city, and the cost of covering transgender employees' health needs was relatively inexpensive, compared to other health needs of San Francisco employees. Employees of the City and County of San Francisco and those employees' dependents may now access transgender specific treatments without the need for any plan members to pay any additional premiums, as they did the first few years the program was available."

So what's the big stink? Why don't more employers – especially major ones, like city, county, or state governments – offer those benefits?

I strongly suspect that coverage for birth defects, such as intersexed conditions, will be covered under these plans. Why not when gender dysphoria rears its ugly head?

Is it just because the DSM-IV still lists gender dysphoria as a mental illness called Gender Identity Disorder (GID) – even though the folks who write the DSM have never been able to cure anyone, and the only treatment they recommend is hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and surgery?

Truly ironic, that the mental health professionals recommend medical treatment for something they call a mental disorder.

But I've already written about that.

This Body

A poem from those dark days before transition began…

This body is not mine.

The name it was born with fits like the iron mask

of the Inquisition.

This body is not home.

All I've lived in and it's still strange, with unfamiliar art on the walls

and dirty dishes that never graced my table.

This body is not comfortable.

I itch with passions like nettles,

scattered, a realm ruled by a stranger.

This body is not mine.

I don't know who looks at me in the mirror. A man

who came from my mother's Womb

and stole my place in her heart.

This body stole my friends and lovers,

stole my clothes and dreams

and I go with it, without home.

by Seda

Hey, I never said it was good. The point is, my body is not me, and it has nothing at all to do with me – except it's the vessel that carries me around, my interface with the world. Like Mac OS running on a PC. The software doesn't function with this particular hardware.