Got Some New Transgender T-Shirts

I got some new transgender t-shirts today so I can start wearing them to pickle ball and other places I go to let people know, ahead of time, that I’ll be having chest masculinizing surgery sometime within the next several months.

 

I don’t want any of the people I interact with professionally or casually to suddenly see me flat-chested and think, “Oh  no! She must have received a devastating breast cancer diagnosis!!!” That would be cruel, not to mention completely unwarranted. but unless they’re bold enough to ask, that’s probably what they’d assume.

 

I want people to be happy for me, not  thrown for a loop or into sorrow when it happens.

 

 

 

 

It’s going to be a wonderful, exciting, liberating thing for me!!!

I will be CELEBRATING!!! 

 

I’ve been wearing less “in your face” TG t-shirts for quite a while– with blue, pink and white (TG colors) unicorns, ties, and moons, but I’ll start wearing the more pointed ones (asking people to respect my pronouns, “I’m the Scary Transgender Person the Media Warned You About”, “The Only Choice I Ever Made Was to be Myself” etc.) this month…

 

     

 

The boy in me is wanting OUT!!!

 

I can’t express how overwhelmed I get emotionally (to the point of tears welling up with gratitude!) when people refer to me (even pre-transition) as “he, him, his” because I know it has to feel awkward to introduce me or refer to me in those ways while I have these large pendulous appendages taking up so much real estate on my chest. I just hope it will be easier later, so more  people feel comfortable doing it.

 

The funny thing is, I don’t really like (most) men all that much. I don’t like the way most of them were raised; I don’t like their presumed “privilege”–thinking they’re better than women are; I don’t like their macho or the way they ogle or talk about women (sometimes even when women are within hearing distance–so I can  only imagine what they say when women aren’t!!!).

 

The men I’ve admired weren’t macho Neanderthals; they were people like DeForest Kelley and Robert F. Kennedy who had wives they stayed married to their entire lives. (But I have zero doubt that probably every cisgender heterosexual male, married or not, gets a boner looking at gorgeous young women. I can hardly hold that against them; it’s not like they have complete control of that particular aspect of their anatomy!)

 

I just know I’m a male. Just not one conditioned to think I’m God’s gift to women and that women should all be happy as clams treating me as their lord and considering themselves my personal property. Puh-leeze! 

 

The good news is that I wasn’t raised that way. I don’t consider women lesser beings, or sex objects, or property, or any of the other things that male supremacists think of them. Maybe I would have believed that bunk if I’d been raised as a guy from day one (I doubt it, since Dad wasn’t a male chauvinist), but fortunately, I wasn’t, and most of my nuclear family (except for Dad) is cisgender female so I’m well aware of how well women measure up to male counterparts. In many cases, women exceed them. Women are hardier, usually work harder and longer (as workers and wives and mothers) and they’re usually (usually!) far less warlike and peaceable, something I admire immensely. I hate war. It’s a stupid way to treat people we disagree with, and it only causes more animosity, not less.

 

So I’m living in the best of both worlds. Raised female, my brain is male. Some Native American tribes call this Two Spirit. I wouldn’t be two spirit if I hadn’t been raised as a female. I would be a guy, period. But I’m grateful for the upbringing I had because it wasn’t sexist. I only had to conform to meet school rules. I wasn’t forced to wear girls’ clothes at home. My parents respected my individuality. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for that…