The puzzle of women becomes more and more complex the more I become one

One of my trans sisters, ahead of me by ten years remarked, “every day I learn something new about being a woman, something more.  What they teach me is that I know less and less.”  She is so right.  Even as a man who was a non-man, understanding man, this man, this once-was-a-man was not difficult.  Now, I barely know my own mind, my own feelings, and certainly not those of others.

I described to a friend that female brain v. male brain was most clear in terms of range of expression and its converse, range of feeling.  I described it as having extra octaves on either end of the piano keyboard—extra octaves and more notes in between, thirds, for example.  But I realise now that this is a massive understatement.

Instead, what I feel is that the keyboard is multi-dimensional, twisting and turning through the universe, connected to everything, time past and present, to the spirit world, to Heaven and Hell and to every human being.  This essence of being, what we really are, in women is made of something completely different.  We do not have language as we know it.  Women’s language is one of instinct, one of feeling, one of the body, not one of the mind.

I do not have a feeling of hopelessness when I contemplate what lies before me.  Knowing that I will never know, never understand, perhaps only improve at expressing and feeling.

The nature of woman is to howl, to sing, to rage, to love, to envelop.

I went to a lesbian and femme-identifying meet and greet.  I met some wonderful people.  It didn’t occur to me that they were all kink-friendly too.  I should have known as I found of the event from a kink platform.  But I’ve never been too clever with that sort of thing.  The first question out of one the hostesses mouth to me was about my experience in kink.  I may have been too open.

After that I met a really groovy women wearing flowing silk harem pants who could talk rust off of a car, but I loved everything she was saying.  She was a whirlwind of hilarity.  She told me a story about a work of art that she had bought recently, getting a great deal.  She described it.  It sounded so incredibly elaborate.

“But I can’t find any place to put it.  It just doesn’t go in my house,” she lamented.

“You could always remodel.”

“It would go in the bedroom, but I’d have to change all the colours.  I am going through a redecorating phase.”

“I am never not in a redecorating phase.”

“What I think I am going to do is to put it in a room at my friend’s house.  I stay there so much that it’s my room anyway.  This way it will really be my room.”

“Yes, you can say, ‘when I can come over and visit my painting’?”  She smiled at that.

“I like that idea.”

I mingled freely.  I was one of three trans women there.  I got to speak at length to both.  Everyone was super well-educated.  The first trans gal was a very impressive scientist.  She was well ahead of me on her operative journey and was just beautiful.  Even her voice had benefited from therapy.  Speaking to her, a young thing with so much going for her, and there with her girlfriend, I felt so optimistic about the future.

I cannot describe the other trans woman as her look was so unique that anyone reading this who might know her, would know her immediately.  She was striking in a very particular way.  She too had a female partner.  Again, I was struck by her optimism and life force.  She and her girlfriend were making active preparations to leave the United States for Europe, and will do so should the Republicans win in November.

The Constitutional lawyer in my family said that they were convinced that this coming election would represent the end of Constitutional Democracy in the United States.  They did not see any outcome other than Republican victory—as they are prepared to win by any means.  The only positive that could eventually come from that is the dissolution of the United States as a Federation.  It seems hard to imagine, and yet, with both Texas and California, despite being on opposite sides of the political spectrum, having nascent independence movements, the Feds might have a hard time when two ideological opponents banded together for common cause.  It could get interesting.

Most of you will have no idea about what is already happening in the US for trans people.  Changes in laws at state level, namely Ohio right now, Florida before, is causing an exodus of trans people.  Abortion law is affecting where women choose to live.  Trans women living in Ohio that are not in a position to move are cutting their pills in half so that they can string out their hormones for as long as possible.  Finding ways to carpool across borders to be able to access hormones.  The complaints against the two largest pharmacy chains are growing, as evidence of interference with transgender prescription-filling by both CVS and Walgreens goes beyond mere anecdote.

This is a political reality for us.  It is terrifying.  Since President Obama made changes to the law regarding whether gender dysphoria could be disregarded as a pre-existing condition justifying exclusion from insurance, making gender surgery and therapy suddenly available to anyone with insurance, the US has gone from being an also-ran in the world of trans surgery to being the leading light.  There is more innovation going on in the US, more competent world-beating surgeons, than anywhere else—even than Thailand, long-standing global leader in trans surgery.

Where there is money, there is research, talent, and innovation.  Along with this has come a generation of young surgeons who are absolute stars.  But along with this has also come incredible wait lists.  My favourite surgeon has a four-year wait list.  I’d love to have my surgery with her more than anything.  But I can’t wait that long.  The Republicans have published an election manifesto.  Trans people, trans rights, trans healthcare are right in the cross-hairs.

My friends say, “surely it won’t change overnight.”  But the grim reality is that should we have a second coming of President Trump, you can bet that on day one, just as last time, there will be a stack of executive orders awaiting his signature that include shutting down access to trans healthcare.  For this reason alone, I will be focussing on not just changing my birth certificate but changing my entire past history as a male.  He is dead.  He will be dead.  It is time for me to say goodbye, and for me to inhabit all of my new me.

I yearn for Italy even as I find such a beautiful tribe in my wanderings in America.  It has become clear to me the truth of children’s statement, “the best revenge papa, is to make lot’s of money, to be successful.”  Their words ring in my ears.  I have the privilege of facing the crippling cost of higher education, the highest of all, with them falling in Daddy’s footsteps through the halls of higher learning.  My wife has told them all that she would not be supporting them.  In Italy, a parent is legally obliged to take care of a child until they have the means to be independent.  That’s why so many live at home.  Not sure which model is best, but a compromise perhaps.

I only mention this because faced with institutional and social discrimination, resistance, I am not overwhelmed or disheartened.  I take it on board as part of the female experience.  Admittedly, there is a particular strain of nastiness reserved for the trans community.  A community which is even rejected by elements of the LGB crowd.  Gender dysphoria scares everyone.

I know that my gender dysphoria has nearly killed me.  This is a truth for many of us trans people.  It is agony to have to question this most fundamental aspect of identity—what are we, male or female?  Every damn day.  But words of affirmation, a little smile, acceptance—this is more than just a salve.  It is the oxygen upon which all trans people survive.

Please, if you see us in the wild, go out of your way to just be affirming.  I know that many of my brothers and sisters hate being noticed, being ‘clocked’, but there are ways to show support without conveying the sense of being clocked…”you have great taste”, “I love your style”, “those shoes are incredible”, even just soft eyes as you see us.  Asking about pronouns, rallying to our defence.  Please don’t be silent.

While for me, the deep emotional embrace of a tolerant woman is the ultimate salve, men are providing more and more of a bedrock of support.  It isn’t enough to say, ‘live and let live’, or to advocate that people just let us be.  Support must be active.  You can’t ignore.  To all the women and men who walked past me when two thugs three food at me over and over and then stood in my face as we had words, to the crowd that was all around when a man grabbed me and spun me around on a busy London street and shouted to his friend, “see, he’s a man!” you can’t just watch.  You have to speak up.  We are not able to defend ourselves on our own.  We represent somewhere between 0.6% and 1% of humanity.  There is no place for us to hide.  Standing out is exactly what we are.  When the time comes to round us up, they will find us all in a jiffy.

I don’t exaggerate.  As a friend of mine told me of a beautiful she took to a Middle Eastern country, one with incredible beauty and culture, I realised that it is no longer a place I can visit.  I have heard stories of trans people being stripped naked at the airport to confirm their genitals match the sex on their passports, or just being detained endlessly before being sent home.  I do not wish to be killed, jailed, or tortured for what I have become.  But this is the risk in so much of the world for me, for us.

So when we contemplate the end of Constitutional Democracy in one of the bastions of Western Enlightenment, it is no wonder that the trans community is running scared.

I don’t know why this post just got so dark, but such is the joy of blogging and stream-of-consciousness.

The starting point?  Connecting with women as a trans woman.  What I found on my evening out with the lesbian meet and greet, was that none of them gave off the curiosity energy, the flirtatious energy, the ‘let’s have fun’ vibe that I pick up from straight women.  And I am puzzled by this.

All morning long I have been flirting via WhatsApp with a gorgeous woman who likes to tell me about the man she loves.  She is coming to stay with me.  She is bringing a book with her about how to be a woman.  She wants to read it to me.  It is hard for me to describe how insanely erotic I find that.  And she knows.  She knows how insanely erotic I find her.

We went out together in London one night.  She is an avid dancer.  I love to dance too, but I cannot dance the dance she does.  She is also a dance teacher, and so is doubly intimidating.  But that wasn’t the point.  She danced with men all night, and had me help choose her dance partners and then came back and talked about what it was like to dance with each ofr them.  I think it was a test.  And a tease.

I feel a little under her thumb.  And she has begun to ask me to do things for her.  And when she does I become so utterly aroused it blows my mind.  And when that happens my behaviour changes…I become very submissive.

My dearest friend is going to stay with me in the hospital while I have surgery and recover.  There is nobody on earth that I would feel safer with as my advocate.  I love her heart and soul.  I also know that we could never be together.  We so don’t match.  That knowledge protects us both and allows for the most beautiful friendship to grow.  She likes men.  She likes a certain kind of man.  These men are not me, or anything like me when I was a man.  And she is a man-eater.  I don’t thrive in that kind of dynamic.  I thrive when the woman I love protects me and provides firm but gentle guidance.

This is what is happening between us, and we are learning to nourish and feed one another through friendship.  She knows that I am a slave.  That I love to serve.  I am going to stay with her in a few days.  She has already told me that she would like to cook for her and some guests, and what she wants and when she wants it.  At first, a few years ago, when she asked, she was very hesitant as she explored the reaction I might have.  But as she has come to know me, she has discovered that to serve her in this way is a way for me to serve myself, to thank her, to celebrate her.  And so, she has stepped into a place where my slavery is a healthy part of how we are together.

And I wonder if this is the truth that is emerging with the dance teacher.  Or with one or two other women in my life.  They do not want a “relationship” with me in the man-woman sense, but the relationship they do wish to have with me goes far beyond the scope of any friendship I have ever experienced before.  

I think I like it, but I also wonder if we are settling into a pattern of unequal equity.  Part of me feels like some people are vigilant and caring about equity in a friendship.  Others take advantage.  I tend to have a good sense of who is trending in which way, but I often don’t do anything about it.  Star Child gave nothing.  I could have said something much sooner.  I think the Dancer might be the same.  Time will tell.  I find myself just sort of watching them, detached almost from myself, wondering if they will give, what they will give, or if they will take.  And it may just be that what they give is not of value, not noticed, or not needed by me…and that could be true of life, for anyone.  We gravitate towards a collection of friends and lovers who tend to put out what we need, and who need what we put out.