Lesser of Two Evils

“While my single male partner had been relatively nonplussed about my man made parts, my single female partner couldn't help but notice and comment on the fact that I was different. I used these ridiculously inadequate sample sizes to draw the painfully obvious, jaded, bitter conclusion: Men wouldn't care or comment on my scars; focused only on having someplace to "stick it," they would barely notice any difference between me and other women they might have had sex with, since they simply wouldn't be paying that kind of attention. Women, on the other hand, would notice immediately the dreadful gulf between normal and me and run the other way.”

This.

THIS.

That shit right there! ^

Yeah, you read it, and it may not mean much to you, but i know that when i did happen to stumble across this diary of Max Beck, an intersex individual, I got chills from my hands to my feet and right back up again. This could not be more upsettingly true. I was both incredibly comforted and alone as I read the words, then re-read the passage and read the entire blog over and over again. It all made sense, too much sense. On the one hand, it was nice to know that i am not alone in this fight for survival; there are others like me out there with similar thoughts, feelings and experiences, which is human nature to seek out and find encouraging. Encouraging is definitely the right word here, as it made me want to finish and publish this diary of mine anywhere: SOMEwhere, so that someone of a gender non-conforming nature might come across it as I have and feel equally dumbfounded and relieved. On the other hadn howvwere, it is a terrible thing to know that someone else has gone through the struggle that i have; it should not have to be bitterly tru, as this person has said, that lesbian relationships are undoubtedly difficult for people who are not strictly women to achieve. It was disappointing to see my own fears mirrored back to me, and to see it somewhere else and so unexpectedly was incredibly chilling to say the least. Still, i trailed the internet for more information on the author Max Beck. I hoped that he would have a happier ending to his life story than my ‘good friend’ david reamer, but in an admittedly ironic account from his widowed wife, Max died of a form of vaginal cancer. This, again, was a little, if not a lot disturbing, and my mortality shook me up a little that night too.