Two people today have in a subtle way probed me about being trans without saying the word, all I can say is I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know and that’s the truth because I don’t know. And I won’t know tomorrow.
I want to present as male, I want people who look at me to think I’m male. This is very at odds with the fact this is not how I look.
My colleague today, who is, I would say, a real friend too asked me, pretty matter of factly (we were talking about clothes) if I strap my breasts down. I’m not sure where it came from. Actually, I don’t, but I have stopped wearing a padded bra, or any bra at all, and I do wish they weren’t there. And I have been buying and wearing clothes that make my chest look more male. That’s what I look for when shopping.
Driving home from work, at the traffic lights, window down, sunglasses on, music playing… a guy with a Jamaican accent comes and leans against the window “Hey beautiful lady, you are so gorgeous”. I imagine that’s probably enough to upset anyone, not to mention because, threatening. But it actually makes me cry, and what is making me cry is the being recognised as female with no hesitation.
I went to my sister’s for dinner. I can’t remember specific words, but the gist is, you’re trying to make yourself look like a boy, this I don’t deny. Will you ever grow your hair again, no she ponders because you can’t look male with long hair. Unless I grow a beard first, I say. It is all so much in the forefront of my mind, it comes out so quickly. Same with when I talk about my parents and calling me by a male name. It is pretty damn obvious that this is something I’ve given thought to.
But thinking about something doesn’t make it real.
All I know is I cry when I think about it, and I cry because I’m scared it is something I want, and I’m scared to do something about it. I’m scared of being wrong.
I’m not scared of being wrong enough to be scared that if there was a syringe of testosterone and I lived alone and nobody knew me, or I was in a new place, that I would try it. I’m not scared of going halfway and changing my mind. I’m scared because I know (what feels like) everyone would be against it, and I am not certain enough or strong enough to correct them.
Being gay was easy because there was no doubt at the time, it was the only way I could be. If it wasn’t popular, I had my very strong attraction to women to say, look, this is real, this is it.
I feel like I am too easily swayed. I feel unsure. It would be easier if I was sure.
And I don’t know if I will feel this way in five years time.
When I came out as a lesbian, yes, I felt I knew I’d be like that in five years time.
I also feel like a fraud because of having enjoyed aspects of being female, when younger. I just don’t know where they are anymore.
Now I have this aversion to the word ‘she’. I had to write a bio today for a poetry anthology. And I said ‘she’ because I can’t say ‘he’.
I just feel hopeless because I don’t know, and I’m the only one that can know.
And I kind of wish I could forget about it and just go back to being how I was. But this nagging, and this crying, and this upset. It’s not right.
To be continued…
And my gran’s words ringing in my ears ‘as long as you are happy, that is all that matters’.
And no, I’m not happy. I’m not happy, gran.