I love Greece and the Greeks and Acceptance begins from within

The trans twitterverse and other online spaces often speculate about where it is safe to be transgender.  Safe in the sense interpreted here includes freedom to just be.  Freedom to pass unnoticed, unremarked.  Freedom to have a normal life.

My travels and life take me to many places, places in which I am 99.9% living out.  There is one small pocket of my life which remains closeted, though its days are numbered, as I am taking active steps to prise that open too.  Somewhere along the line, perhaps there are several ‘somewheres’, I decided that I am a trans woman.  Being trans has in its nature being in a state of flux, in transition.

My near-daily photo diary of selfies and snaps shows a clear path of transition.  I can look back at the man I was with affection, but I can also see that we look less and less alike.  It is hard for me to pin an exact moment on this feeling of just being true to what I am, but it feels closer now than ever, and I thank Greece for that.  Spending a week on the beach in a two-piece bikini, because I am not German and I am too modest to go topless except very early in the morning when few are up and about, has a way of putting the body on display in ways that nothing else does.  For the male gaze.  For the female gaze.  For my friends and family.  For casual partners passing by.

Two years ago, as a political statement, I began running with a sports bra.  No shirt, just a sports bra, like most of the women that were out running in the hot morning Miami air.  It bothered me then and still does that men very often run topless whilst women cannot.  There are of course the physical consequences of running with breasts which became apparent to me almost before I could see any change on my chest—it hurts to run without a bra.  I might have looked silly or strange to some, I don’t really care.  One of the women in my building noted to my muck-raking wife that I had “strange” taste in running gear.  But more fundamentally, in many places it is illegal for a woman to be topless but never for a man.  That is worth taking a stance over, and why I often call out at men who are running shirtless to ‘put on a shirt’. Nonetheless, graduating to always running this way has been one of my small victories…note to self: if you are a trans woman, then do what any trans woman would do.

Living in Italy I am stared at.  Not looked at, but stared at.  My bestie remarked on this during her visit, and of course I just tune it out, but when she remarked on it, I had to tell her to stop, because I don’t like to think about it.  I do live in a city which is very conservative.  And Italy has an active right, which somehow has become linked to anti-trans positions.  As if a way of being is transgressive, a political statement.

This was my third trip to the Greek Islands since coming out, but the first time with breasts.  One of my children asked me to take it easy on the bikini front, to ‘ease’ them in slow.  So, I did.  I brought one sport bikini, the kind you wear in a triathlon.  Decent coverage up top and more a speedo style on the bottom.  That was for the first day.  After that, I had my favourite style, the kind that ties on either side, both matching and unmatching.

I went running in my triathlon outfit at the crack of dawn, then went for a swim, and when I came home, everyone was up and about.  It has been hot, so I was dry by the time I got home, and felt no need to cover up before showering.  My child thanked me for the gentle intro.

But after that, I felt free.  A bikini is very revealing.  I never really bought bikini tops much because I thought without breasts, they looked kind of silly…and plus the male torso and a bikini top don’t look right.  But hormones have changed my body shape somewhat, and so there is more shape, and of course, there are now lovely little breasts.

Shopping for a bikini top, who needs everything to match anyway, was a very liberating experience.  I found myself reminiscing how years ago it was hard for me to do this, as I know it is for all baby trans sisters, and especially for cross-dressers.  The shop keepers were absolutely welcoming, encouraging me to try things on, even tying them for me, adjusting them, even adjusting my breasts.  One of them, when she saw me, asked me if I would be on her shop’s Instagram, because she said I looked so beautiful.  I said yes, and have a lovely snap to show for it.

Simultaneously, on said “vanilla” Instagram, I have been approached by a modelling agency to be a model for them.  I don’t know where that might lead, or even with them, but I will step through that door.  Our voices as trans people must be heard.

The dear friend I was with said to me, “there is nothing more important in your life right now than your transition.”  This was not a statement of criticism, but helping me work through the many forks in the road which lie ahead.

“You are right,” I said.

“You need to step into it.  All the way into it.”

“I pretty much have.”

“There is one last pocket.”

“It’s risky for me to come out at work.  Once I’ve done it, you can’t take it back.  I can’t afford to lose the income.”

“You can’t afford to put it off.”

“You’re right.”

“Look at you now.  You are a trans woman.  Do you think anyone here doubts it?”  She waved at the many people that were hanging around on the beach chairs at the bar we were enjoying.  I was wearing a pretty skimpy bikini (top and bottom) and had been there all day.

Yes, people did look at me, but not like at home.  I mused to one of my children whether I would be this comfortable at the beach in Italy.  I’ll have to try this summer.  But being in Greece, and not an island with an LGBTQ reputation, a family place, which is what we were anyway, was deeply confidence building.  One of my friend’s children confided to one of my children.  My child shared with me what was said later.

It may seem strange, it certainly felt so. How is it that living for a week in a bikini, being looked at with so many different looks from indifference to indulgence, to humour, and even to lust, to be almost completely naked like that, and existing in a sweaty see of humanity, swimming, eating, being with family and friends, and having none of it matter, did more for my sense of self than anything I can think of having done before. It was unexpected. It was also something I feared before hand, having never worn a two-piece bikini in public before, but also having no interest in going topless.

“Your father is so courageous.  They’re a total icon.  I could never do what they’re doing.”  Those were beautiful words for a young adult to utter.  [Pronouns have been adjusted to ‘they/them’ as I am not sure what was used, but probably he/him].  We discussed pronouns over dinner one night because I was asked, and I said ‘they/them’.  “But, she/her is coming, only I am still in this in-between phase, but once I’ve had surgery, I will gladly accept she/her.  I will have earned it.”

More recently, I have been ‘misgendered’ correctly, with various random strangers saying Miss or Ma’am to me.  Ironically, this seems to be when I am wearing trousers more often than dresses.  The breasts certainly help.  So does the hair, which is quite long now.

Why all of this?  The hardest part of being transgender is already behind me.  Whether it was the moment when on an Ayahuasca retreat that I accepted what I was and all that comes with letting go of the male world and stepping into the female, or the gradual and near-daily decisions and occurrences which accumulate and make me realise I am at least no longer male, something has profoundly changed.  Having gender dysphoria has simultaneously been the hardest and best part of my life.  And now that I can finally embrace it, the joy I feel and receive from so many others, is absolutely life transforming.

Being a trans woman is the best thing that ever happened to me.  I used to wonder about why I am here, what my purpose is, why I was “cursed” by being given a male body but the desire to be female.  Now I know.  My purpose is to just be, and to step into presence and being with everything I’ve got.