Dysphoria

I don’t like heights. And I don’t like my body sometimes. There is a general rule of thumb that I’ve discovered the hard way, and that is ‘don’t look down’. I live by this sometimes. When you’re hearts throbbing in your ears and your chest, when you feel you face flush and you armpits and palms suddenly become slick with cold sweat and your very quickly shaking, you’re stomachs churning, you get a fight or flight feeling deep within your core and your brain but you can’t move; you can’t run and you can’t escape because your legs won’t work and you don’t want to fall. That’s what it’s like when you’re on a high ledge, trying not to look down. And that’s what it’s like when your body doesn’t fit your mind. It’s hard to explain, and it’s hard to shake off.

People assume its madness to think your head can be different to your body, most people see gender as something which cannot be moved; it cannot be altered or debated and pondered upon. This is what I imagine it feels like to be transgender; to have you head not match you physically, but my situation, while entirely the same is also entirely different. See, I began as physically female for the most part. I matured early, and once puberty set in I began to notice how incredibly different my body was, or at least, was and is still becoming. It runs deeper than ‘disliking’ your body, like, assuming that you are ugly, not being able to face the mirror etc...This is an entirely different experience altogether.

 I don’t hate mirrors or photographs. On the contrary, I am entirely the opposite of that most of the time. I find mirrors and photographs fascinating. It’s rare, you see, that I am able to see myself entirely. I see certain traits of myself. This is a hard concept for most people to grasp, so I beg you to open your mind right now. All I can do is try to explain this, but when I look in the mirror I see things that are a part of me and things that aren’t, or at least, things that are missing or things that should be there depending on my mood. I can’t control this; when I feel male or female.

All I know is that some days I notice the curve of my hips and chest, the fullness of my lips, the long length of my eyelashes, the softness of my skin and blush in my cheeks. I notice how thick my hair is and how easily I smile, how I swivel my hips when I walk. Other times, though, I notice how broad my shoulders are, how large my hands and feet are. I see how angular my face is and how thin my lips can appear, how square my hairline is and how thick my eyebrows can be, how deep my voice is, and how masculine I walk. It depends on how I’m feeling and what I’m wearing. Other times though, I can look at myself and see a blend of characteristics: I think that my eyes and frame are big and beautiful, but my face shape and walk is typically male for example. I’m fine with that too; I just dress somewhat androgynously on those days. I never really mind if people call me he or she as I don’t know what I am myself, and don’t want to restrict myself to one or the other, so I’m perfectly comfortable with whatever label I am given.

Self Preservation

When it comes to lust I am ruthless. People fall in love with me, and as soon as I discover that I end it. They grow boring to me, and I actually start to harbor resentment towards my partner. I feel as though this is because they are only in love with the half of me they think they know. People think that they know me and they don’t. This upsets me to no end, because if they knew my true gender or history they would run a mile, so I know that I have to end it, because they are in love with a fantasy and I feel guilty for carrying it on. I am a good actor is all. ‘if a girl can act, just must be a thesbian’.

It is easier to be single that it is to be told that someone doesn’t want you anymore because of something you have no control over, and something that is so core to you and your personality; its my body, my being. Its not as if I fancy some guy/ girl and I wished I was taller/thinner. My hormones dictate the way in which I think and feel. . My brain operates on a level that is a blend of both genders and the fact that I can, for the most part, get away with dressing according to my mood is a freedom that I am very grateful for and if my partner cant handle that then they cannot handle me.

There are however, a lot of adjustments that any partner will have to make or simply try to get used to when dating me. i always joe that any partner i have must be a little bisexual, but more than that i have heard a lot of people’s opinions and ideas about the adjustments they have had to make. A lot of them I had never even thought of, but its all just common sense if you think about it. One which statement always makes me laugh...

 “You've got a mans libido and a womans menstruation. Unlucky.”

There is a lot of truth in what was said to me. I’m up for it most of the time but my body falls short of what I require sometimes.  If I'm not up for it then I don't have the luxury of telling my partner that I'm on my period or that I can't get it up when I am tired. That being said, there are a lot of pros to my body that fellow pansexual’s usually appreciate instead of the one side or the other that most, more rigid sexualities don’t.

For one, I have very soft skin and manicured nails, but my hands are big and my arms are relatively strong. That is to say, I am by no means muscular, but when wearing men’s clothes I have been described as ‘stocky’. That being said, I also have curves too, and while they can make binding difficult there are times when I am a little proud of them after doubting they would ever exist on my wide-shouldered frame. When I am with a gay man or a straighter woman they will choose to see my more masculine side, and when I am with a lesbian or a straighter guy they only want to know my softer side and more womanly curves. It feels like a sort of honesty when I am with the more open minded. I have the freedom of wearing my whole wardrobe throughout the relationship and I don’t have to pick between being with them or having body hair. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person, favouring certain types of people over others, but I bear in mind that I am open minded and positive, while many others are not so much and it is them that pick and choose my traits while I try to re-enforce the fact that you must either accept all of me or none of me, just as I would any of my partners opinions, feelings and ‘quirks’. 

Figuring out my Sexuality

1 new country, 3 new towns, 5 new schools, 2 colleges, and 8 failed relationships with men later I quickly realised-well, okay, so it gradually dawned on me... I think that it was somewhere in-between catching my boyfriend looking at other girls, only because I was looking too, and taking wearing his clothes to the next level. I promptly broke up with him, came out to friends, family, mother, and consequently lost a lot of people. On the other hand though, I gained something much more important; I gained self confidence, self respect, some genuine human emotions for other humans, and a strained sense of belonging in my own skin, clothes and community.  To say I have never been happier would be an incredible overstatement. But to say that implied I was glad not to be on another man’s arm, to be listened to and to dress well, to be popular in my social group and to feel those butterflies when I kiss my partner is very much accurate, and I am oh so glad for it.

With new found attraction and the identity to match I tried to navigate the world as a lesbian. I cut my hair short, and looking back I have no idea how I did it all with such ease; I systematically came out, altered my wardrobe, introduced myself to male friends and put myself out there in clubs, dating women and by no means mastering the art of it straight away. Perhaps it wasn’t all that systematic then. Thinking about it, I was just feeling my way through the dark, placing blinkers up to society and what everyone had ever expected from me.

I did what felt natural to me, ignoring gender norms and snide comments. It made me feel so liberated, when I looked in the mirror I didn’t hate what I saw. Many still ask me “what have I done to myself?”, and family members, even my partners and friends will drag up old photos of me and say “you looked so much better back then”. What they don’t see though, is how lost, afraid and repressed I am in the pictures. They don’t see it, but I can see the sadness in my eyes, and the confusion and guilt that so many other LGBT teens have riddling their thoughts. Now days though, and for the very first time, I see myself in new photos. I see a genuine smile, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I actually recognise the person staring back. 

Virginity

The internet saved me. Or at least, it opened all of the windows and all of the doors. It always had all of the answers, from math homework to make-up right up to chest binding. I needed valuable advice from chat rooms and wiki and yahoo and heaven forbid Cosmo and FHM. I went full circle from googling ‘what do men like in bed’ to ‘what do women like in bed’, except only the second one seemed to excite me.

Myself and females seem to fit, or at least, I get a thrill from it, I get that nervous feeling that I assumed was normal. Finally I was feeling genuine feelings; I had assumed I was simply a heartless bitch up until I noticed women. My whole life the lines “he’s hot” and “awww it was cute he did that” were entirely lost on me, but one day I had this epiphany; if having doors opened for me, if being held and taken out on dates just makes me feel numb, then I wonder what opening doors and surprising someone else would make me feel like. To date, it is quite possibly the best idea I have ever had.

I was nervous. I was a virgin, I had no idea what I was doing and I was a little shy. I thrived on these feelings, all of the feelings, feelings which I didn’t think I was soft enough or ‘normal’ to ever be capable of having. I thrived on the fact that I wasn’t defective in some way, but I had worked it out; I was bad at a game I was never meant to be playing; I dating men had been like asking a fish to walk on land and not flounder. Well I was now in the ocean I belonged, and to say that I threw myself in at the deep end would be an understatement. I looked back at myself, from birth till now, and honestly wondered why it hadn’t hit me sooner. Sexuality is an intimidating thing to women though, and it was something I never wanted to question, probably because I knew what I would find.

Character

I'm a really good judge of character, which is why I fucking hate everyone. I mean, people are the integral reason for my unhappiness and/ or distress. I don't wish I was dead. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish everyone else was. They have a tendency to make my personal life, appearance and just general business their own.

“You need to grow out your hair”

Why? For what purpose? Why bother telling me that in the first place? It is not your place to say it, and your opinion on my hair length will not magically make it grow any longer in that moment. I do not have to be decorative for you, I mean, one of the first openly gay men Oscar Wilde did say “women are the decorative sex”, is that why men seem to be so terribly outraged when I don’t look beautiful for them? Perhaps then I sometimes consciously look male to avoid the unwanted sexual attention. Looking older than I am, I would more often than not end up dealing with people being shocked over my age and I am more than used to having guys look at each other in wonder muttering ’its mental innit’  as if I were otherwise fuckable if I wasn’t so young. Of course now my only concern is never being able to pass with a child ticket for anything, even my oyster card looked dubious and caused second glances when I was under 18.. I have always looked somewhat like a 30 year old man. I would sooner that than have eyes wander over me in hunger though. I’ve discovered that it doesn’t even matter how butch I look; if I am female than I am fuckable, and that is that. Men on the other hand do not have this problem, and do not experience the unwanted attention to this extent. I believe I am right in stating that women's major fear on going on a blind date is meeting a serial killer, while a mans biggest fear is meeting with someone fat. Men have other problems though. If they want to get laid they have to master charm, but to get any sort of man a woman merely has to exist and be willing to pull. I feel like I suffer with both problems and both pressures sometimes.

I guess what I have come to discover though, is that gender is neutral until I leave the house. Friendships are real until they stab you in the back. Trust is trust until you speak to someone and realise it means something entirely different to others.I feel so let down sometimes, and so angry, so disappointed, so upset that nobody would go above and beyond for me in the way that I would for them. so that's whats forced me to change who I am as a person; life is a bitch and then you die or become one. I'm ‘born again hard’ as my mum likes to say. But that's upsetting too, because when your'e surrounded by awful people you start to become one, and that's something that I never started out wanting to be. Now though, I realise that I have to be cold to people. The more I say no to people, the happier I become, and the more respect I earn from people. You cannot be nice in this world, you cannot show weakness, or people go for the jugular, people whom you confide in go for your throat,  and just when you thought you could trust again your'e knocked right back to square one. I think it is actually quiet healthy that I spend more time wondering if I like the people around me than if the people around me like me. That may tell you that I'm surrounded by idiots, because in all honesty most of the people I know are closed minded bigots.

Morris Mandel said “the darkest hour has only sixty minutes”. Now while I don’t really know much of him and I found this quote through google images, it reminded me that even though I feel like death right now, the moment will most definitely pass, as it has done before, and as it will continue to do so. I simply remind myself daily that there is a flaw in my chemistry, not in my character, and it is only by a cruel twist of fate that I find myself in no mans land. I need to stop thinking that I am not man enough or woman enough to make anything decent or worthwhile with myself, because there isn’t anything wrong with me as a person. It is only everyone else who is making me feel inadequate, and the sooner I learn that for good the better. 

Courage

I don’t know why it got to me but it really did, when guys were flocked around my female friend and only put up with my presence because I was the friend, yes, alright, I get that, but there was no need to say "don't fucking touch me." Ouch. I'm trying to keep in mind how that makes me seen as a very much masculine entity to the boys, because in theory...I mean, if I squint... it means that I've passed as male in their subconscious without even trying. Atleast, that's what I'm telling myself to make it stop hurting.  

I cant help but think though, that with all of the emphasis that I place on passing its all a little bit pointless. No one is going to know about my gender identity until I come out to them, and to do that i need to be certain of exactly what my gender identity is, if I want to have any hormones or surgery, and if i am by any means prepared to be brave enough to be subjected to the bigots and haters.

Most of what I have rambled on about on this blog is rendered very much pointless by the fact that no one will ever think i am the man that I know I am in my head and my heart if I don’t just pluck up the courage to say it. My only hesitation is that I don’t want to think so optimistically about it like I have everything else in my life that has gone horribly wrong. I don’t want to try to improve my body, to in turn improve my state of mind and sense of self, only to realise that I have horrifically mutilated myself instead. At the moment I can convince myself that I am in a happy medium, and I keep telling myself that things will get better and get easier; get better when I get older, but I am getting older and I will always be in this permanent state of male puberty. I have stopped fighting it, and I now embrace it, but deep down I know that I want to push it forward and gain the courage to, well, grow up.

I just need to make sure that this is something that I want. I don’t want to give myself the excuse that I am staying like this because it is easier for me to find someone to be with and function in society, because that simply isn’t the case. If I am with someone in the stat that my body is in now then I feel more alone than if i was single, and existing like this is by no means living. That being said, there is no going back on altering things. I don’t want to wake up one day and look down at myself with scars and unwelcome hip bones, only to discover that i have always been happy with my body, it was just everyone else that had a problem with it in the first place. I can’t realise that I have changed myself, and it was only again to please others because I was being seen as female to men. What if I go through with surgery, and they still do? That is inevitable, and I shouldn’t let it bother me at all, but in all honesty it does. It takes a lot to offend me, and i cant help that this is my one of very few weaknesses. I just can’t go through with things either, to hate my body, my choices, and still feel awkward and alone, with no one to blame for that but myself.

Hovis

There is a saying that lesbians are only lesbians because they are too ugly to get a man. the state of my body is just the collateral damage from my pursuit of happiness. Fast food, energy drinks, cropped hair, men's clothes, alcohol and cigarettes are all the reasons that I am still breathing today. People tell me that I'v ruined myself and exclaim ‘what have you don’t to yourself?’ or ‘what happened to you?’ well life happened to me, life ‘ruined’ me, as they so eloquently out it, and no thanks to them, this is how I have dealt with it. But while being called ugly is deeply offensive I have to admit that this is somewhat applicable to me, but then I'm not really a stereotypical lesbian, or a lesbian at all really.


My masculine traits had always been something that I tried to hide and they were what I thought I had been told by countless doctors were ‘problems’. I felt ugly because they outweighed my feminine features, but by embracing my male side, and what I have come to consider my ‘true’ self, I realised that they are actually positive things. I know that I am just trying to console myself. A friend once pointed out that my nickname ‘Hovis’ was not very accurate as I am not exactly the best of both, more like the worst of both. The cruel reality is that I will always be an ugly, barren woman or a man without a dick depending on what way you look at it or how I am presenting. 

Still, this is my body and my world, and what I try to tell myself every day is that as a man, I have large feet and large hands, a strong jawline, broad shoulders and I am tall. All other factors aside, these are normally enviable traits, and in the gay community a good femme will appreciate that I can make a handsome butch. As a girl I'm not all too unattractive though. Naked, my figure is not overly masculine provided I don’t ever lose too much weight from my hips. And I am good with my makeup when I am in the mood. I have nice eyes that appear green on occasion. When I lives abroad, a teacher in Spain once pointed that out that my eyes change color. I like that. 

I also like to think that I have the power of the first humans who were both genders that even Zeus feared. I tell myself that I have the potential to posses the serenity of ying and yang. I think its all that I can do to make myself feel cute. Anything to make my own little category of person hood that little bit more special and less of a potentially life shortening medical condition. I would much rather be considered a special little snowflake than a medical anomaly, infertile woman or neutered man. Besides, doesn't ‘two spirit’ sounds much better than circus freak?