I know I just moved into a new place, but the situation I moved into has changed dramatically in the short time since I got here. Its clear that I need to find another place and fast. I have a steady income and 5 years history with my current job, but I don’t have a security deposit lying around and I need to come up with one ASAP.
Other things about me? I am a veteran of the military. I’m queer. I have never been arrested.
Please donate as much or as little as you can as everything helps! Please repost this link to boost the signal.
Lexie’s moving fund
Tits, Knockers, Bosoms, Titties, Hooters, Melons, Sweater Zepplins, Bozoombas (not sure of that spelling), Mammaries, etc.
They are one of the first validating developments in a trans girl’s journey. They seem to be the thing most easily recognized to mean “female” in terms of gender cues to the average person. You quickly learn what a pain in the ass they become in accommodating them into clothing. “Happiness is a well-fitting bra” rings true throughout it all more or less.
They seem to go through growth spurts. Up, up, up, then down, then up. If you are lucky you don’t have pain from simply “having them” there clinging to your ribcage. If you are not growing your own “boob garden” or passing the waiting stage, you can just buy them as they come in all sizes. I’m fortunate in that sense that they popped-up.
Its an unruly child, these breasts. “I need something that fits me NOW!” and that is just in bras. Finding shirts, jackets and such is another factor in which this breast owning entails.
Cover them up, or show them off?
Some breasts are big enough that they can be hard to remove attention to, or just simply clothe. Attention? Coverage?
I forgot to mention that, much like when girls hit puberty in adolescence, boys (men) will tend to notice them in a hot minute. That in itself leads to wanted, and unwanted attention. Lately with my mohawk, my boobs are “gender-fucking” the observer with contradicting gender cues.
I completely have left out what the biological purpose of breasts are for: TO NOURISH THE YOUNG! Its true, whether you have kids or not, their intended origin is to produce milk for the young, like other mammals. That is something miraculous in itself, I think so.
Trans men (FtMs) often bind their breasts to remove that gender expression. Having them removed is often an obstacle to masculine expression.
Where was I? Oh yes, what to accessorise your breasts with? Piercings? Tattoos? I am certain that I will be doing that in the next year. Why not? Does marking them up make them anything other than MINE? No. In fact, I will do what I want to their appearance as I own them. I own them to every leering and shifty-eyed man who gets confrontational. I own them to every conversation that people have a sudden attack of conscious to address my pronouns properly. I own them to the point where a sudden awkwardness befalls the person who didn’t know that “I come bearing tits!”
This has lead to a lot of my “I really don’t fucking care, but I will rock these bare and in public” situations. 2014 Folsom Street Faire this last weekend, Hard to deny that I had breasts when they are out through the crowds. This last summer during camping trip I did wear a sheer top on the last day. 2009 when they first came along, I used to “accessorize” them with electrical tape and no top during my “industrial adolescence”.
They seem like they hit a growth spurt more noticeably in the last 4 months. It shouldn’t be cancer, but that’s another worry for ones breasts.
Social interactions do put boobs into play “Those are hardly big enough to even call breasts!” are what a few evil people exclaim within my lifetime. I’ve removed them from interacting with me at all. The first time your parents see you wearing a bra, yeah I went through that moment in my late 30’s. “Those aren’t real!” “Are your breasts real?”
Anyhow, Totally Titty Tuesday is more than one day of the week.
So that time of year has come and gone in San Francisco once again. I’ll admit that this was the first Trans March I had walked in since moving here 4 years ago. It also was the first time someone has put themselves out in the public “officially” showing support of me.
(I’ve not had the fortune to have had a family member do such a thing, as I was pretty much shunned by blood and attacked, sometimes verbally, by the other.)
She, my girlfriend, stood (or rather sat in a wheelchair) with an intricately detailed sign. It was something that really showed the love and outpouring of support she has been willing to put into me.
When she first showed it to me, it took a few moments for barriers to crumble down to the point of happy tears.
“Why has anyone ever taken this much investment into me?” was really apparent. Her outpouring and support does show in her pride in me, being who that I am, is something that doesn’t change.
The Trans March is a protest march; it is for the open visibility of gender variant people, as well as a time to voice change, acceptance, support, and pride within this fraction of the queer community. There were a lot of people displaying support for Chelsea Manning among the march. Hand in hand were a few people displaying “proud parent of a trangendered child” signs and shirts. It was a really beautiful thing.
As we had planned to also do the Dyke March on the following day, exhaustion on both our behalves kept us from attending. (2+ mile parade route plus to and from the subway stations as well)
As for the “pride” of Pride, it hit me on a more personal level than I could have imagined before.
Diamonds are crystals of Carbon that only develop under intense pressure. The crystal lattice that make up their strength and luster can only come about this way.
Having lived through my life in growth cycle that my queerness came:
is a process that I say is similar to what creates the Uniqueness, Individuality, Hardness, Desirability, Value of queers.
Diamonds do sometimes wear from their environment. It was their environment that tempered their hard exterior…
Most queers I have met are not “garden variety” or bland; they stand out almost immediately from a crowd.
Most often Diamonds are on display, locked up, adorned on ones body…it can also be said of queers.
Queers aren’t ignored by mainstream, they get praised and persecuted. Token Gay Friend. Token Transsexual. Down Low. Secret Mistress. Escort for Hire. Tranny Porn. Test Drive. Experimental.
EXOTIQUE – EXOTIC – EROTIC – FETISH – FETISHIST
I figure queers can be reclusive and withdrawn much like Diamonds, at least in my case. I long for acceptance into certain circles and yet my status makes me something different than the rest-a “Diamond in the Rough”
I suppose its rough being a Diamond.
The understanding comes mostly from other Diamonds-out and proud visible Diamonds.
I suppose the greatest pressure could create the most spectacular Diamond, but at what cost?
Doctor Who being the science fantasy television program on BBC for the last 50 years. The main protagonist simply known as “The Doctor” to the viewers. He has many adventures with various companions while traveling through time and space. He appears human, and has a very strong affinity to nurturing and protecting the human race. However, he is not human. He is Gallifreyan-a Time Lord. Their biology causes them to regenerate after a number of years, typically spawned by a sustained injury.There has at least been speculation that these regenerations can involve a gender change, but usually is a completely different looking and acting(and dressing) character with most core parts of The Doctor’s characteristics. Some of his quirks really shift a lot more than you would think, but it keeps it all fresh in my opinion.
At times, I feel that I am not human..
So how does this entertain the idea that your “transition” is anything like that?
(I only know of my own experience and what few stories others have shared of their own journey.)
Myself-35 years as a boy/male (give or take), had many different careers/roles:
Soldier, teacher, husband, father, mechanic, carpenter, clerk, guitarist in metal band, singer, college student…these did have different expressions of hair, clothing, cars, houses, etc.
Granted I was petty repressed in avoiding being myself, but my core was pretty consistent. I am: a nurturer, teacher, lover, musician, caregiver, poet, artist-and will always be. I’ll cleverly avoid a fight, but a true warrior knows when to fight!
I too, have had some pretty colorful companions not unlike the Doctor at times..family, lovers, friends, animals.
Transition-its not a destination. No matter what anyone suggests, because life itself is a journey and not a destination. (Get over it and embrace it.) So during the beginning of this phase there is of course the wigs in lieu of the hair in process of growing out. Wardrobe? Adolescent, edgy, vampish, sex bomb, blonde bombshell, college co-ed, the Audrey Hepburn, cyber-goth industrial girl, punk rocker, post-apocalypse dyke. For me, the biggest part of change was the hormones that let my brain that “always knew/felt that I was a girl” for this entire time, could at least not hate the body my mind was born into. That body quickly changed and perhaps parts of my mind as well…
My memories at times are something that are very clear and are relevant to my daily activities and problem solving. However, there are times that Who something happened to in my past feels very much like another person. Swiss cheese memory as referred to in science fiction…
Music? I was a bass player and keyboard player up until I started exploring my gender expression by going out dressed. Guitar soon came after this period.
Parenting? Some argue that you are always a parent, but the interaction with my own children was limited to only the time I expressed as a boy. I haven’t been a parent as a woman. Not even to a puppy at this writing.
Tattoos? Well, I got my first during my time “in-flux” of deciding whether going out on the weekends and hating who I was or wasn’t. My ink collection snowballed and really started with “my first girl tattoo” to my most current one.
Family? There is a lot less blood relatives around, much as the First Doctor saying goodbye to Susan, but my extended family is tremendous and still growing. They have a stronger bond with me than I could have ever imagined.
Other things I have picked up since transitioning: learning Italian, cello, guitar with a deeper focus, writing, oh and of course more allergies. I am sure that I have my share of quirks too.
I lost my singing voice for the price that I paid and I am looking to find it or whatever voice this body chooses to resonate.
The journey through time-and space, occasionally gives glimpses of times in your life where you were really proud of your accomplishments and who you were at that individual moment. I feel its important to reflect into those journeys for strength, knowledge, and wisdom. Who you were isn’t always Who you are at the moment. But we all seem to be a collective of all our incarnations (good/bad, boy/girl, love/hate).
If you do find yourself having problems with your collective, or even evolving… perhaps you should call the Doctor?
(Gender shift = transition = life is a journey for everyone regardless of cis or transgender)
I’m conscious, no doubt. Most of the world’s ration and reason anymore hurt my brain.
This doesn’t “interfere” with my daily existence as much as it enhances it. Its problematic at times because the world, and my world have many layers. I did live the first 35 years fooling others to believe I was a man (but never fooled myself).
Picket fence, college, military…I had some typical as well as high-risk career choices that were considerably masculine. I spent time convincing myself more than other people and thus: being a male in all outward appearances and social roles- WERE simply a stage I went through before embracing my true self. But transitioning back east meant I was surrounded by an automobile to-and-from work, school, home. You don’t socially interact with anyone in a car, basically.
Expressing my female self isn’t without daily scrutiny from men and women alike: a man can be butt-ugly but as long as he is powerful/rich/physically strong he is pedestalled and embraced for doing what success was defined to mean; for the woman it means you are judged based on your hair/makeup/clothing/fashion sense and not other accolades.
Women rarely get left alone when it comes to the leering and judging eyes of the world. Sure, age sometimes brings relief, but then you are seen as someone’s “mother” rather than a successful mature woman. Shit, this goes to show that transitioning from male to female is not a CHOICE!! One might argue that transitioning from female to male would be a choice based on no longer being scrutinized on a daily basis of ones looks, but that is not the case. Transgender is not a choice for anyone.
Some feel that being born as I was and being attracted to women, wearing pants, etc. are considered appropriate.
So how much breasts/cleavage do you show to express what you feel you want to, and how much is caving to “what a woman should behave as?”
The pitfall of someone balancing expression: “I don’t feel like wearing makeup nor shaving my legs.” negatively traverses my female expression. You could say that I am hypersensitive to the expressions of gender, having lived/worked/dated/stared/objectified as both.
Did I mention that I know what runs through a man’s brain? No? Well I didn’t. I will say that I know what CAN run through a man’s brain. I was also raised around the most misogynistic/pro rape men on the planet. I knew pretty early that I was neither “them” nor “a man.”
I will admit that I cling to a few things out of comfort due to the basic fact that I wasn’t born without a vagina, nor plentiful mammary glands (breasts).
Maybe I don’t want to go to a place further outside my own comfort zone.
Maybe I don’t want to leave the impression on you of what I look like without makeup because maybe you won’t invest getting to know me or you are the type of person who doesn’t get past anything.
Maybe I like some to show some sexy legs because I literally have bled for my transition. I shouldn’t have to justify anything in what I choose to express, but in living my life, I am just.
I think you can be a femme pro feminist, and even a transsexual feminist. I also think that it really shouldn’t matter what someone’s outsides look as quoted by me:
“This girl in front of me, whether she is wearing pants or a dress, shouldn’t make a difference.” Associated Press November 2010
Originally posted Sunday, April 3, 2011
We do not magically go to sleep and wake up one day all brand new. We resemble the stage before and after our current form. We do not start as grubbing little maggot-caterpillars.
We start out with:
2 arms and
2 legs and
the brain of our identified gender.
We learn that our arms and our legs do nothing for our environment which we see through our brain.
Grasshoppers are born as nymphs. Each stage they shed their skin and grow bigger. Each stage resembles the one before and after the current one. With each shedding of their skin, the wings get longer. One day the stage is reached where the wings are long enough to fly. Then the grasshopper is NOT limited by walking, or jumping, but by FLYING!
You simply cannot take a person and render them unconscious and through the magic of modern day surgery create as-close-as-born the body they identify with. Then magically wake them up to forget about their past, or their memories they learned the world through all of those senses. Again, refer to the grasshopper prototype!
I am a blank slate at my birth-my life has been recorded on me. As I have grown, I have overcome most obstacles. I have solved most of those problems. No hormone nor surgery can make you accept things about your fate/life. For example, seemingly artificial corrections will not cure a shitty attitude nor make you change your social role. Your social role changes as you change.
It’s TRUE! The longer I have lived as a woman, I still make changes on the social sense. I had not once considered going backwards through the grasshopper stages. Not once, had I thought about growing a beard and chopping off all of my hair! I may have though about jumping off of a bridge but not devolving back to something else.
I believe that your social role before the addition of hormones does play a bigger part than the magic pill fix. Even those people struggling with roles, at the very least they feel where they’d like their life to be.
So at this stage…3 years (now 5 at 2013) after I decided to live how I was born (and not how I was told), 2 years after I introduced the chemicals required to make my mind and body communicate cooperatively rather than dissonantly…I am a flying grasshopper.
Once you get a whole flock of grasshoppers its a plague of locusts of sorts.
Then one day, we shall change the face of the earth for the better.
Its 2 years since this post.
I have been flying around for sometime.
Now to find a nest!