True Friendship

In my previous post I complained about friends who don't act like friends. This time I want to say thank yous.

I met her when I was 8 or 9 years old, I think. She was a tomboy and grew up to be a rather guy'ish woman. We became very good friends, and are that still. When I met her this summer she told me that a much bigger shock than whatever my identity is, was me telling her that I am planning to go to L.A. She said that she has seen over the years that there is something wrong with me, some inner turmoil I hadn't been able to talk about, and that she now sees how happy and content I am. She is very happy for me, and she accepts me as I am. Thank you!

Another old friend of mine I met when I was 10 or 11 years old. She has been a good and true friend who doesn't care what others might think of me, and subsequently of her in my company. You know how cruel kids can sometimes be. When I wasn't ready to talk about difficult things she waited patiently for a year for me to come around, and when I did talk to her she accepted me as I am, without a question or an attempt to change me. Thank you!

The only problem with these two friends is that they both live relatively far away so we don't see each other so often. But that doesn't seem to be a problem when we meet -- we simply take up as if there hasn't been more than a couple of days or a week since the previous meeting, even if it really has been a year or more.

The third person I want to mention is my best friend, my mate, my love, my girlfriend, my wife to be, my greatest and most wonderful treasure in the whole wide world. She listens to me when I need to talk and understands me often better than I do myself. Her ideals and interests are very similar to mine, and we have wonderful conversations. She enjoys the silly playful moods that seize us once in a while as much as I do. She seeks my help and support when she needs it. She is perfect for me. My soul mate, my princess. Thank you thank you thank you! I love you!

Friendship?

A friend of mine told me, when we were talking about me being a transsexual man, that he will always see me as a girl because that is what he got to know me as, no matter what I say or know I am. He told that straight to my face, and obviously expects me to understand and respect his views. It is an interesting statement. He chooses to see me as a girl even though I have told him that I am not, and ignores what I try to tell him. He has placed himself on a position where he sees fit to decide who and what I am regardless of who and what I really am. So nice to know that I have such a helpful and supportive friend, huh.

The very same friend seems to be deadly jealous of the book I am writing, wishing that it was his book. He tries to convince me that the book is not good and I am doing a bad job with it. Fortunately, I have other people giving me feedback on my book too, so that gives me some perspective to his comments. He seems convinced that, after having played the kind of online role playing games where each player in turn writes a bit of what their character does, he must be a much better writer than I am, I, who only have written like, hmmm, hundreds of pages of pretty good text even though I say so myself. A big case of jealousy and envy. How does friendship fare ladden with such -- usually -- negative feelings? Not well, I have to say. I have managed to be civil so far, but I do not know how long that will last.

Another friend of mine decided what she wants me to be, which is a feminine girl, and has worked hard over the years to make me that. That includes some pretty mean incidents with which I am not best pleased, though grateful in a certain way, because they have given me more insight into her character and the ways friendship between girls sometimes works. I have never really understood girls, even back when I thought I was one myself, and only now I am beginning to figure out some things that have been utter mysteries to me before. This friend I am talking about, having now obviously concluded that her efforts have been in vain, is bitching me about my new guyish looks and the change that has taken place in me, especially if there is someone else present so she can make mean remarks disguised as jokes to them in my presence. Thanks to my girlfriend who has helped me to understand the girl ways, I have learnt that that is girl talk, but I have trouble seeing it as friendship. Yes, she claims to be happy for me for she can't fail to see how much better I am doing now compared to those times when I desperately tried to be a girl, but she is not pleased. Why? Because she has lost her power over me. She is not in control of who and what I am any longer. She didn't manage to make me her toy. Why must friendship be a game of power and control? Of winning and losing? I cannot see that as friendship.

Yet another friend of mine, in this case a former friend, takes friendship as an excuse to continually complain about whatever is wrong with her life, whether it's the family (the child who ruined her body by being born) or the terrible monster of a mother in law she has or her own fragile health (she has complained about aching toes, and once she actually called her boyfriend to come get her because her nose twitched and she was afraid that she'd faint because of that) or whatever, and expects her friends to listen, listen and listen. Now, don't get me wrong, friends are there to support you and help you when you are going through something difficult or just need someone to talk to. I certainly don't mind listening if someone wants to talk, especially when I know that they will be there for me when I need them. But this girl took complaining to an extreme, as if the only things she was able to say were bad things, and she would never really listen to someone else if they wanted to talk. So it was a one way thing made heavy by her pessimistic and selfish views. She, the self-appointed centre of the world, wanted to complain and complain and take and take and never give. I suppose it is no wonder that she is a former friend now? Taking advantage of your friends and using them is not a very good way to keep them around. I wonder if the girl is still complaining about not having many friends? She used to, certainly.

How about my gay friends? Despite their kind words they pretty much abandoned me after I came out as a transman. Most of them are nice and polite when I see them, asking how I am doing and being friendly. Some of them simply ignore me and won't even greet me when we meet. Some of them, especially some of the lesbians who I used to be friendly with, seem very uncomfortable around me even when they try to be nice. So I count them out as friends. As simple as that.

Am I asking too much of friendship? Is it too much to ask for to hope for a friendship which is not based on games of power, or on controlling who and what your friends may be, or using them, or hating them for doing something better than you do? What happened to acceptance, mutual help and support, fun times together? What happened to trust and caring and kindness? Giving and taking in turn instead of only taking?

Wouldn't it be easier to accept your friends as they are instead of trying to change them to be what you want them to be? The problem is that no one likes to be wrong, and sometimes acceptance can feel like admitting to being wrong. So to avoid that many people are willing to go to unbelievable lengths to make sure they are right. Trying to force friends, family members and loved ones to be what they are "supposed" to be just to prove to the world and to themselves that they were right all along. Are we really that weak and selfish, us humans? Is admitting being wrong so difficult that we rather torment those close to us in order to make sure that we were right in whatever we decided to think of them?

A Rant In Between and Outside

I find myself in between. Nothing out of the ordinary for a trans person, but worth some thought, I think. The heteronormative society sees and treats me as lesbian because I look like one and like girls. They only see a female body that acts like a guy so she must be gay then, right? So, do I belong to the queer scene, then? Nope.

Now that I am out to my gay friends I find that I do not belong with them any more. They say that nothing has changed and that I belong with them as much as before, that I have as much right to be with them as before. But you know what. Spoken words are less than 10% of the message delivered. Meaning that the rest, more than 90%, is gestures, attitude, facial expressions, behaviour, unspoken things, even the way you speak the words. And I very clearly do not feel welcome. I, a straight guy, do not belong with them, my so-called gay friends. What an awful creature a straight guy is, and not just any straight guy but a straight white guy!

They might as well remove the T from their LGBTIQ, as far as I am concerned. No, I do not have the energy or any interest really to actively remind them of trans issues to make things happen. So partly my fault too. But unless I remind them, all they see is GAY. Not really even bi. But no, it's not my fight. My road leads me elsewhere, so other trans people can fight for acceptance within the queer community if they are interested in it. I am just ranting here.

So I find myself in state where I don't really belong to the straight society even though I am straight, but I get the negative side effects for being a straight guy. And I don't belong to the gay society but I get the negative side effects for appearing to be gay, a butch lesbian. So where are the positive sides of the deal? Beats me.

Ooh yeah, I'm so enjoying myself. Welcome to the marvellous trans world, huh. I'm not just in between. I'm outside. All alone in the f***ing rain. Well, not quite all alone. I have my sweet girlfriend. Love you Ashes!

Jealousy Vs. Envy

Many people use the expressions jealousy and envy interchangeably, although they are not synonymous. This doesn't happen only in English, but also in Finnish, possibly some other languages too. People don't seem to be quite clear about the difference. Here are some quick definitions. I am sure there are far better and more precise ones to be had, but these are enough for my purposes. When you are envious, you desire something someone else has, while jealousy makes you (possibly hostilely) possessive over something you consider yours. Neither of these is a very good thing, though one is less heinous than the other, and both have their uses.

Jealousy is generally viewed as a bad thing, and envy, while it is not exactly recommendable, is at least more understandable. But jealousy does have it uses too, as my girlfriend has pointed out to me. It simply must not get out of hand.

My girlfriend made an interesting discovery the other day. I've admitted earlier that I have issues with jealousy. But now Ashes realised that a great part of what I personally have taken as jealousy (a baaad baaad thing) is in fact envy. I am envious of other people spending time with my girl when I cannot be with her, or I have to share her company with someone else.

Yes, there is real jealousy there too, I feel the green eyed monster lurking over my shoulder all too often. But it was a relief to realise that I am not quite as bad as I thought. And it is also a wonderful thing that my girlfriend is so understanding. I never want to cage her, but yes, sometimes the green eyed monster makes me want to keep her all to myself and not to share her with even her friends. But only sometimes, and I am able to work on it and not let the jealousy rule me.

Hope, Trust, and Love

"Expect the worst and less than you want." That used to be my survival strategy for years. It made life easier, although not necessarily better. When you cut the wings of hope and don't let yourself dream, you won't be disapointed. That is how I survived for a long time, always preparing for the worst that could happen. Sure, it meant that I got some pleasant surprises when things worked out better than I expected. That happened quite often, in fact. But it also meant that too often I didn't get more than the "less" since I did not reach out to get more. I didn't dare to hope and risk being hurt.

I needed a survival strategy like that. I suppose you could argue that I had more than enough on my plate as it was, I couldn't deal with big disapointments. Whatever the case, it made my life if not better at least more bearable. But now it crushes me, breaks me down. Plunges me into the dark abyss of desperation. Expecting the worst to happen, expecting to get less than I want. For what is love about if not dreaming, hoping, wishing, wanting, needing, looking to the future? My old survival strategy has become a source of pain and desperation to me.

Or so it was until I talked to my girlfriend about it and she helped me through it. She taught me a new survival strategy, more fragile and vulnerable than the previous one, but infinitely more suitable to this situation: "Hope, Trust, and Love." Not as easy as expecting the worse, but it certainly makes me feel much better. Those are the words that I think about when the old desperation tries to take over me. Hope instead of pessimism, trust instead of distancing myself, love instead of wilful loneliness.

I never much dreamt, or day dreamt, or even hoped before. It was too painful for me, my wounds were too raw for me to dare venture into hoping and dreaming. That is something I am learning to do now, too. I'm looking to the future and I dare dream and hope. I'm even doing some day dreaming, though not much yet, I don't really have the time, tell you the truth. But I am working on it all, and it is wonderful. It is healthy. No more "worst" and "less" for me, I dare hope now, I dare trust, and most importantly, I dare love.

Goddess Beware!

Let's take the rant to the next level: Deities, nothing less.

The Sami are the indigenous people of Finland, Sweden, Norway and North-West Russia. Not so long ago they still led a nomadic life herding semi-domesticated reindeers. They also fished, hunted, traded their goods and later also farmed. How is this relevant here? I come from an old Sami family, so this is my heritage we are talking about. I could tell you tons of things, but actually I had one particular topic in mind: Mythology.

Among other deities and spirits the Sami have four important female deities, the Akka goddesses. Madderakka is a very ancient and highly respected goddess, the mother of mankind, and she has three daughters, the other Akka goddesses -- Sarakka, Juksakka and Uksakka. One of the most important roles of the Akka goddesses is to take care of the birthings of men and animals. Madderakka receives a soul from a supreme god, which according to some would be Radien who I personally interpret as a later form of the original thunder god, a very major deity for especially the Sami in the area of Finland. Madderakka hands the soul over to her daughters. Sarakka grows flesh around the soul in its mother's womb and makes sure the birthing goes well. Juksakka changes girlbabies into boys in the womb. (Yes, we perhaps see where this is leading...) Finally, after the baby is born, Uksakka looks after it and makes sure it doesn't hurt itself while playing or doing chores.

So. What can I say? Damn Juksakka, you missed me!!! You know, if you only have one single duty in the world and you are a goddess for crying out loud -- how difficult can it be to pay a little attention? Gaah. And here I am, stuck in a body I cannot stand. Thanks a lot. As I said earlier, this is my heritage. I'm Sami and damn it, I believe in the Mother Goddess. And her daughter does this to me?

One day I'm going to tell you about bears.

Just Another Guy

As an update to my process of becoming who I really am, I have noticed that some of my friends are changing the way they are acting towards me. These are some of my queer friends, and I am talking about my gender issues now. People are treating me like just another guy, and I love it. I love it so much. And these are people who don't even all know that I am trans, all they know is that I am a "girl" (although admittedly very butch-like one) and still they treat me like a guy, as one of the guys to be exact. So yeah, it seems they have guessed already. Cool.

I think I'll do the big coming out one of these days -- let the cat out of the bag so to speak, so we can talk about things more openly. The only reason I'm not out to everybody yet is that I don't really have a need to talk about it. I'm dealing with it myself, and I'm talking to my girlfriend and some other wonderful people online. In general, I simply don't like talking about my personal stuff, and especially I hate whining. Yeah, your typical guy, I know. Talking is a problem for me. That's how I've always been -- I deal with the issue first, then (maybe) I can talk about it. It can be very hard if it is a painful and difficult matter, and I've had more than enough of those in my life. Depression, hating myself, self harm, suicidical thoughts, to mention some of the issues I've dealt with. Talking is difficult, but I've learnt to talk to one very special person, so I'm much better off now. Yes, that person is my girlfriend. Not very surprising, huh. Well, she's sweet.

It seems that some people are starting to gender me correctly, not everyone yet, but some are. So I think it's about time to talk about it and that way give others permission to talk about it as well. Yes, about time.

Feminine Wisdom

It is a truly surprising and unexpected grace and pleasure to find someone who understands you so very well. Often my girlfriend understands me better than I do myself; but then, that is not a very surprising thing since she is a caring and sweet girl and I'm just a damn stubborn guy. She understands me and knows what I mean even before I say it aloud (or write it down).

Yesterday I took a big step -- a big step for me. I told her the biggest mistake I have ever made, and it is a subject I am not comfortable talking about in public so you'll just have to excuse me. A part of me felt somehow soiled by things that happened a long time ago, choices that I made years ago. But she not only accepted them but even found goodness in them. I have no more big secrets to reveal to her, that was it. And she understands and loves me.

There is great wisdom in this girl. Feminine wisdom, caring and gentle. She sees very deep, and she cares so much for everybody. That is both a blessing and a curse. Wisdom like that is not necessarily easy to live with -- ignorance and shallowness certainly make for an easier life. Yet the world would be a much colder and harsher place without the feminine wisdom that my girlfriend has and so willingly uses. I admit to being a compassionate and caring person, but I'm just a guy. What I have to offer is merely a guy approach. She graces the world with her gentle feminine wisdom.

Our Journey

We have a new project, me and my girlfriend. After reading my previous post about jealousy and seeing what some other people have done with their blogs, she came up with this beautiful, brilliant idea -- we should blog and document our journey as lovers for other couples. She is so sweet, isn't she? Guess why I love her so much.

So, this is our journey. You are welcome to share it with us. The journey will be documented on two blogs, this one and my girlfriend's blog State Of My Heart at http://ashleyragnar.blogspot.com/ if you would rather copy and paste the link. For the record I can say that I will still be writing about other things here, as well. Please join us, and stay tuned for juicy details!

If You Love Sombody Set Them Free

A freaking hard thing to do, that. Setting someone free, someone you love. I made a promise earlier, to myself as much as to her, that I would not chain her down. We were talking about jealousy, and I promised to myself that I would control my jealousy over her. I'm a big one on keeping promises, also the ones I've made silently to myself and to no one else. Already when I was making that promise, though, I knew it was going to be difficult. I love her so much, I want to have her all for myself. Not good, I know. I know that I have a possessive streak in me, and I have worked a lot on it. But this time I was caught by surprise.

Yesterday she asked for the freedom I had promised her, and since I had so willingly promised it to her in our earlier conversation she had no reason to think I might not be ok with her request now. She told me later on that she had suspected that I might have problems with it; but this I did not know yet then. So, was I ok with it? Damn... I've never been so jealous before in my life. I walked around the apartment, sat down, jumped up, walked, walked, fire burning inside of me, eating me alive, suffocating me. Tears of pain, jealousy and even anger stang in my eyes.

The words I typed in answer to her, "it's ok", were honestly the hardest words I've ever written. They are such small, short words, yet I had to try several times to manage to type them, and the pain they caused inside me... it felt like I was ripping something open inside of me, tearing living, throbbing flesh -- my heart? And again I jumped up, walked around, tears rolling down my cheeks. She must have sensed my distress, the sweet creature she is. I was in a very bad place there, a dark and painful place, but she reached out to me and gave me a way out. I still feel that I did the wrong thing, finally telling her that I couldn't deal with it, asking her not to do it. But she did not blame me for it, on the contrary she was so sweet and understanding it aches my heart to think about it. What have I done to deserve someone like her?

I realised yesteday that I could have done it. I could have let go of her and given her her freedom. That would have killed something very beautiful inside of me, something that is merely awakening, but I could have done it. Yet I am infinitely grateful to her that she didn't ask for it. I would be able to let go of her, but I'm not sure I would survive the process myself.

Yes, she is more important to me than my own well being. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. We stayed up late -- late for me -- and talked about it. She said some very sweet things that I am not going to put here, but treasure in my heart instead. It is a magnificent feeling to have someone who really undestands you and accepts you.

What does the title mean, truly? If you love somebody set them free. Is it about loving them gently, holding loosely? Or simply not being overjealous? Or is it the hardest thing, letting go of them if they ask for it? How much freedom is enough in a relationship and what is too much? And who should decide that? I seem to have a lot of questions today, but few answers. Maybe I can come up with some answers over time. I hope so.

Why Guys Make Wonderful Pets

I had a little fun on a forum and posted seven reasons why we guys make excellent pets. Since the text is mine and doesn't mention anyone else, I suppose it is ok for me to save it here so it's quick and easy for me to find it, should I need it one day. And no, I don't mind if someone has a laugh reading it -- laughing is good for ya! Anyway, I'm hoping to come up with more of these so I hope I'll be updating this list.

Why Guys Make Wonderful Pets

1) We don't ask much: Food, beer, TV, s** ...ahem, yes...

2) We are excellent at making puppy eyes and offering teddy bear hugs to get our way

3) We need constant care, we must be fed regularly, and our lairs need to be cleaned so that the stench won't stick

4) We are such excellent company on visits to your family and relatives -- we sit quietly and obediently on the couch and stare down at our feet. We got real interesting feet, you know

5) We are good at fixing everything that's broke until you grow bored and call a professional to save money

6) We are such excellent listeners when you need to talk. We have learnt when to nod or smile sympathetically so we don't have to listen, we can stare at you and think about s** ...uhm...

7) We are such excellent listeners when you need to talk. We don't understand a word in girltongue, but we stay put and look at you adoringly in case you might want to have some s**

Flying High

Funny how things can change. Yesterday I was so down, and yet one person was able to lift my spirits so high that I'm afraid that they might be blown away with the wind. I'm in love. And it's so beautiful. I have been afraid to show my feelings -- afraid that I'd be hurt again, although I was never afraid of her. Just an irrational fear, I suppose, brought on by certain recent events. Matters of the heart are not always easy.

I want to take this opportunity to publicly thank Tim Berners-Lee for inventing the Internet. I'm sure there is a whole bunch of reasons of why it is such an important invention, but right now I'm only interested in one: Without the Internet I would never have met my sweetheart and I could not keep in contact with her. The most important reason in the world.

So. No rants today. No deep thoughts. My mind is full, and so is my heart. I'll write something clever later on.

P.S. Got a Live Journal today, there isn't much of anything there yet, but I'll be updating it and you are welcome to check it if you wish: DeimosW

Rant of the Day, Pt. 2

Just continuing the rant a little: FYI, it's my freakin' bloody hell of a week (my period), starting today, and I HATE it so much there are no words to describe it! I HATE it! It was late this month, and I suppose deep down somewhere I was hoping that it would stay gone, too. Damned thing. Sorry. I just need to vent, I'm feeling so wretched right now. I actually baked some bread today to improve my mood a little (...since there's no one else to bake for me, *whine* *whine* *whine*...) I'm not a great housekeeper, but hell yeah, I can bake and cook if I want to. I just usually don't bother. Well, we'll see whether freshly baked bread manages to make my life a bit more bearable at the moment, it's in the oven now, and I can smell the olive oil I used in it. I hope it'll be yummy. Some cheese with the bread would absolutely make my day, but I don't have any and I'm a bit broke at the moment so I can't buy anything (...*whine* *whine* *whine*...).

I feel like going out and screaming my lungs out to get this frustration and anxiety and anger and all these strange emotions I can't even name out of my system.

Dreams

I've been thinking about dreams for the past couple of days. It started Friday night when I had an amazing dream. In the dream doctors had developed new techniques for FtM SRS (sex reassignment surgery) so that they were able to construct an actually working, ahem, certain male body part, yeah you know what I'm talking about, and I volunteered to be one of the first FtMs to have the new operation, and, well, what can I say, it was awesome. The dream was incredibly real and detailed, more life like than my dreams usually are. Or then I simply had more reason to remember this particular dream than my usual, angsty dreams. I wish that it was a premonition or something -- well, my Grandpa was a shaman of sorts, or so I've been led to believe although I was too young to have understood anything when he died, so I admit I'm inclined towards certain unexplainable possibilities. A family business. Paganism runs in the family. Well, anyway, I'm hoping that one day reality catches up with my dream and us FtMs could have exactly what I had in the dream. Having experienced that dream, I won't settle with anything less. I cannot. Not now that I know what I could have.

Having that dream made me think about my usual dreams, and only now I have understood why they bother me so much. They are filled with gender dysphoria, and they make me feel so freaking anxious I can't describe it. That's the way they have always been -- these are my normal dreams. No wonder I don't have much nightmares, I mean, what's the point of nightmares when night after night after night I struggle with my inner demons in otherwise normal dreams? In the dreams I am me, and I am treated as female, and it's freaking me out. Like in real life, too. And if I should call these dreams nightmares, then my real life is one continuous nightmare too, and I'd like to try and keep my head together by not thinking about that more than I'm thinking already. So I'm talking about dreams, not nightmares.

It took me 30+ years to finally admit that I have gender issues (I can be damn stubborn, I tell ya) and all these years I've been plagued by my dreams without understanding why they make me feel so anxious. Human mind is an interesting place. Considering all the obvious clues that there were and the little, ugly demons living inside me waving hands and calling, "Woohoo, hey ya, gender issues here!", I call it a some kind of an achievement that I actually managed to deny my true gender identity for so long. Let me make a list, I feel like ranting right now:

1) I feel like a guy. Okay, this is probably not the best possible way to put it, but that's what I feel inside: masculine, not feminine.

2) I think like a guy, I don't really understand how women think. They really baffle me sometimes. :)

3) I have always hated my female body beyond description. And yes, I have a past (and partly present, too, it seems) of self harm and suicidical thoughts.

4) Even though I like women (and well, yes, men too) I could never identify myself as lesbian. That's just not me. And it has nothing to do with me not wanting to be gay, damn I'm proud to be queer. But if I could trade my gender issues for merely being gay -- well, that would at least be an easier road. But right now, thinking about it, I'm not so sure I would make the trade. I'm beginning to develop self esteem in being a transman, and I don't think I'd like to give that up even for an easier life. It's nice to be able to feel good about something in myself, even though a lot of things suck.

On a side note, I hate the term bisexual because by definition it assumes that there are only two genders. So, I am attracted to individuals without so much emphasis on the gender (physical, social or preferred), well, yeah, sure I like the physical body, but I mean that if I like a person, their gender isn't an issue. But don't call me bi. I'll bite you if you do. :D

5) I passionately hate being gendered female and treated as one in social situations. I have hated it all my life, as long as I can remember, but I never allowed myself to understand why. Or what I would like to be instead, if I hated being female so much.

It developed into a deep hatred for myself, like I was the one to blame, like it was somehow my fault that I felt like I did. That I was born wrong. Breaking the thick walls I had built around myself to keep me from seeing the true cause for my problems and finally understanding and accepting myself has already been such a great relief for me, although there is still a long way for me to go to be able to look into a mirror without flinching or feeling bad about what I see. But I'm on the way. And Saturday night, at a Valentine's Day party at a gay club I actually got gendered male by a guy who knows me as female. Yes, I'm on the way. Towards my dream. I only hope I'll get there some day.

Brandon Teena and Violence Against LGBTIQ People

Yesterday I found myself on a website which stated that Brandon Teena was a transvestite woman. The site lists "men who were really women" (no, I'm not going to provide a link. I don't want to increase the number of hits on the page) and while the text was written more in good-natured ignorance than in an actual attempt to offend, I found it offensive beyond description. I fumed over the matter last night -- I tell you it's hard to make me angry, I'm a pretty patient person, but this one made me furious. I was feeling physically sick, and I needed to get out of the house for a moment, to go for a walk with my dog and think of other things for a moment.

Who Brandon Teena? Okay. He's the guy on whose life the movie Boys Don't Cry was based. Putting it shortly, he was born a girl, sexually assaulted by a male relative, lived as a man in another town, dated a girl who didn't know he wasn't a natal guy, got arrested, his girlfriend found out that he was physically female, his two buddies found out, too, and raped him and beated him up (yeah, some buddies, huh), he filed a police report but due "administrative errors" the buddies were not even arrested, later on those two "buddies" of his came after him and shot him and two other people. There. Search the net if you want to know more details. A horrible story. And no, he was not just a lesbian, he was a transman planning to have sex reassignment surgery. The problem for many of us (especially those who live in the U.S.) is that the operation is so expensive. Not all of us can afford it even if we wanted it, so don't blame us for not having the operation right away. Things are financially much easier here in Finland, but that's not really relevant in this context since Teena was American.

Why am I so agitated over this? It's not that I idolise Brandon Teena in any way. I disagree with some of his choices, I would have made different decisions if I was in the same situation, but that's not the point. Everyone can make mistakes. We are human, not some supermen, even we trans people. So I am not exactly looking up at Brandon Teena. I see him as "one of us", not so very different from me. I'm pre-op as well. When I read about him, I cannot help but picture myself in his stead. And it sickens me to think that a fellow human being can be treated so badly by other human beings. That's all we are, all of us, you, me, the guy next door, the girl you see in the super market buying apples, the old lady walking slowly in the park. Just human beings -- all of us incredibly beautiful in our imperfections and failings, all of us immeasurably valuable as individuals. That's what we are -- neither better, nor worse, just unique. Each and every one of us.

Violence against any person or animal is wrong and condemnable. It should never be tolerated. Especially difficult is violence and hatred towards minorities. It's so easy to hate things you don't know or understand, yet it must not be tolerated. Declaring Brandon Teena as a transvestite woman is undermining all the work done to improve the situation of trans people. It is direct belittling and dismissing of what Teena personally went through. Step by step we are working our way towards a better society where no one, not even trans people or other minorities, need to be afraid of violent outbursts of hatred. Or that's the dream, at least. Personally, I'm cynical -- I don't think we ever get quite there. But any improvements are welcome. This particular incident regarding Brandon Teena was a step backwards, and that's obviously the wrong direction. It should not be shrugged off as ignorance or "they didn't mean anything bad, it didn't sound all that bad really". Sometimes you need to get pissed off in order to accomplish something.

Days of Dust

Some days you can just taste it in your mouth. The dust. When everything goes to hell and nothing seems to feel ok. Desperation and anxiety lurking over your shoulder, you would just want to curl up in your bed and try to sleep. Just let the world happen on its own. Why does it need your daily input in any case? One of those days. Yes.

Let me introduce myself. I am DeimosW, a transman, an FtM, whatever. I'm still pre-everything, and that fact is eating me inside out. I once promised myself that I would never have a blog, but... Well. The thing is, that this road is so hard and depressing that I need a place where I can vent my feelings a little. So I'm trying a blog. Maybe it'll help. And who knows, maybe it can even help some other transpeople in the world.

I'm having one of my days of dust. The past few days I've been on a roller coaster of emotions, going from happy to depressed, from content to feeling like I'm a failure, from compassionate to so anxious that I can hardly breathe. And yet the day hasn't been so bad, really. A more or less normal day -- some screw ups, some successes, you know how it is. A normal day. And still I'm moping around like an angsty teenager (ahem, I'm like 30+). The underlying problem behind all of this are of course my gender issues.

Ever wondered what it feels like when you've born in the wrong body? What it feels like being an outsider? What it feels like when you hate yourself and your body so much that it makes normal social life difficult? No, being trans really isn't a pleasure trip. Neither is it an exotic and interesting way of life. Don't envy me. But don't pity me, either. I don't need your sympathy. What do I want, then? Acceptance, understanding maybe. Someone to listen to my rants when I need to vent. Nothing much, really.