The Prologue
The Prologue
Journal entries leading up to my starting cross-sex hormones
The following are excerpts from my LiveJournal between spring of 2009 to fall of 2010 when I was the ages of 21 and 22. I’ve had this compiled for a while, thinking I might use it in my book, but I don’t think it quite fits anywhere anymore. I do think it packs a bit of a punch, though.
17 Months Before Hormones
On Saturday, I went to the mall. We passed Randy River, and I went, "Ooh, I need a new hoodie." The camouflage one lost its zipper, and I wanted to replace it. R2 is guys’ clothing, and everything in there is on sale because the store is closing, so I bought myself a hoodie.
I like it.
I looked in the mirror yesterday while I was wearing it and turned to my mom and said, "I look like a boy in this hoodie," to which she disagreed, but I said "No, I do. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying."
And so now I've remembered the joy of boys' (I guess men's now) clothing.
I've been in stores many a time, where I go to the men's section, and I stare longingly at the clothes, and I say to myself, "I want those pants... but I can't buy them because I'm a girl" and I wander away feeling a little sad.
Anyway, I don't think I should deny myself clothing I like anymore. I think I should just buy what I want to wear and not worry about what section it's in.
It's alright to defy how you're supposed to act within your gender, isn't it?
Is it a little off that I like to look like a guy, but I don't want to be one?
16 Months Before Hormones
Sometimes I wonder if I'm totally making all of this up in my head, because it seems so random to only notice it now.
I think starting to categorize my thoughts as male and female was probably a terrible idea, because now I've formed separate and distinct personalities of myself.
I almost feel like I have dissociative identity disorder, except not; but I do feel like I have two completely and entirely different selves, and now I'm referring to these two selves by name, and it feels weird, but not weird, at the same time, you know?
I'm certain I brought this upon myself. Perhaps I'm a little bit delusional. Not sure what this is a side effect of.
Either way, I think I've created (a) monster(s).
12 Months Before Hormones
I know I've gone on about the gender identity thing before. I don't remember if I ever really talked about how it culminated. Basically, I'm just saying screw it all together. I don't have a strong tie to being either male or female. I don't experience bodily dysphoria for the most part, either. I'm okay with my body being female. I just don't identify as female. But I don't really identify as male either? Or, at least, I don't think I do?
What I decided, and it's been working for now, is that I identify as genderless... Just fuck the labels all together because I don't fit into any of them. That way, I don't really have to feel like I need to feel a certain way about how male or how female I am. I'm just neither. The concept of gender just doesn't work for me.
11 Months Before Hormones
So I'm lying in bed thinking to myself, and there was a moment for a minute there where everything sort of settled into place.
I'm pretty sure I'm FTM... about 99% certain. I'm still certain my core identity is genderless because gender is so frigging ridiculous. However, I do know I want society to see me as male.
I... I don't know where to go with that from here. I mean, I know what I want to happen. But holy hell, is it going to be a difficult battle from this point forward.
10 Months Before Hormones
My brain and I have been having an argument about my identity. My brain seems to think that I should just try to fit into the female gender role; that trying to pass as male is going to be too difficult and emotional for everyone involved and that maybe I'm just making up these feelings to be more interesting. (But, really? Would I honestly want to put myself through that much trouble if I could just be happy living in a female body?)
So, although my thoughts are still very preoccupied with my gender presentation and that changes are coming, I still need to convince myself that I'm not about to put myself through hell for nothing.
I feel scared about taking steps forward even though I want to take them. The idea of turning back (detransitioning) is scary. It's something I don't want to have to do... which, I guess, is strange to worry about, because if I don't want to do it, why would I? My therapist seems to think it's interesting that I keep stressing that "I'm not always sure if I'm male, but I am certain that I'm not female."
I like routine. I'm change-averse. That's why this is hard. It's something that I need to do to make myself happier, though.
7 Months Before Hormones
I had two separate dreams about having babies last night. In the first dream, I was pregnant, water broke, and then I had a huge blackout from everything until past the baby being born. And then I was concerned about how I was going to breastfeed without breasts.
I woke up in between. Had another dream after that where I was talking to someone about the first dream and explaining it. And they were telling me that the blacking out part makes sense because I don't like anything to do with my vagina because... I don't think it should be there. And then the rest makes sense because I don't want breasts either. (Is it weird to have a dream elaborate on another dream?)
And then my third dream was random and messed up, but the part at the end was me somehow acquiring a baby. And it wasn't mine, I guess, because I was sitting there trying to stimulate my nipples into producing milk. Yeah. Weirdness.
Iiii dunno. It fucks me up a bit. I've always wanted to become pregnant and have children. It's pretty much the only thing that I like about having a female body... that I can bear children. I feel bad about it sometimes, because in FTM communities, they sort of look down (not everyone, but many) on other trans men who purposely get pregnant.
Basically, it makes me wonder if I should transition or if I should wait... but I don't want to wait. I have hopes of being on testosterone by the end of the year. However, while I identify with trans men, I identify more strongly with genderqueer FTMs. A lot of them embrace both sides of the binary and everything in between, and many of them go off testosterone for a while.
I may just go on for a bit, and then off, if I feel like it. I may not go off. Maybe it's the estrogen running through me that wants me to have biological children. Maybe, when the testosterone is stronger, I won't want to anymore (though I'm sure I'll still want children). But hormone replacement therapy also might make you infertile... so it's a hard choice.
4 Months Before Hormones
There are people who knew and loved me — as a girl. I know that. I am not one of those people. I’ve been battling depression since I was eight or nine years old, ever since my peers started to realise I was ‘different.’ I know I didn’t fit the mold of what an eight-year-old girl was supposed to be. I didn’t fit the mold of an eight-year-old boy, either. I was a loud, opinionated, weird little kid. I’ve just never fit the stereotype. I’ve always been outside of the box. The bullying put me in my place. For the rest of my life, I was quiet, reserved, and still weird.
I hated myself. I hated myself for so long. I don’t actually remember hating myself when I was younger, though I do remember coming home crying a lot of the time, but it was so apparent when I became a teenager. I knew I wasn’t attractive. I had terrible self-esteem. I had a period of time where I tried to be pretty. I was depressed when I realised that I had to try to be attractive and still wasn’t good enough. I had one short-term boyfriend with whom I was terrified to show what I looked like when I didn’t straighten my hair and put on makeup. For the most part, I wanted nothing to do with girls. But I hated men, too, because I was still an in-betweener, and they certainly didn’t accept me. I was definitely very fortunate to have a group of amazing, accepting friends when I was in high school. I have no idea how I would have made it out of that hellhole otherwise.
You have no idea how happy I was after accepting myself as trans. I mean, I’m still a weirdo, and finally loving it, but so many things have fallen into place and make sense. While everyone else is mourning this girl they think they’ve lost, I’m just happy to move on into someone better.
There are still hints of the girl that I was trying to be for 21 years. I’d be lying if I said I suddenly hate chick flicks and rom coms. I still like boy bands, musicals, and Lady GaGa. I still don’t like sports, and I still hate beer. I wouldn’t say that I’ll never wear a skirt again because I probably will. Stereotypes aren’t going to hold me back. I might be choosing to live as male, but I’m certainly not moving from one box to the other. I’m making myself free to move in between masculinity and femininity. I guess that might confuse some people, because I still intend to change my body. That’s because I’m uncomfortable in it. I don’t want you to see me as female because that’s not who I am.
1 Month Before Hormones
Dear M———,
It’s hard to believe that I used to be you.
I see pictures of you around my room. You are with my friends or with my family. You try to look happy. I know you weren’t. I know everything about you. I know your entire life story. I experienced everything that you did. We lived our entire life everything together.
I mean, I know all of this, but I can’t help that whenever I look at you, it doesn’t properly process that we are the same person. Were. Whatever. The year that I started to realise who I actually was, you started slipping away bit by bit. You moved out of our parents’ house and lived on your own. You started to come out to yourself. You started to form your identity, but your identity didn’t involve you. It was someone else entirely. It was me.
I don’t think at the time you realised that you would be destroying yourself in the process of coming out as a transgender person. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I know there are bits of you still around. The little ponies on my top shelf are proof enough of that. The pictures in my room are flashbacks to the time that you were still inside of this body. To be perfectly honest, I’ve been here the entire time, just never at the forefront. I know I was in those pictures, too, struggling to be seen, to get out. It’s hard to see me, though. I only see you.
There are certain moments when I look at pictures of you, and I feel haunted. Like I’m going to regret ever leaving you behind. I’m going to start hormones soon, so I won’t even look like you anymore (I hope). I’m afraid you’ll come back with a vengeance, and our life will be destroyed yet again. I don’t think it will happen, though. I want to tell you that you were weak and flawed, but considering you made it as far as you did, I shouldn’t underestimate you. We had some rough times, and I know it’s probably because of me. It’s almost as if the kids knew I was here… they knew something was different about you. About us. We weren’t normal. (And I don’t think I ever will be, but I’m finally okay with that. Normal is boring.)
This past year has been so hard. And so interesting. I don’t think I came all the way out until recently. I’m so comfortable with who I am now… I just wear what I want… I don’t bind as often… I don’t care what other people see when they look at me (most of the time)… I know who I am and while it often hurts that who I am isn’t more obvious… it doesn’t matter as much to strangers. The people who matter will always treat me the way I need it, otherwise they don’t need to be in my life anymore.
You spent a lot of time in different personas. I know you tried me on a couple of times before admitting I was meant to be. I know you were obsessed with me, but unable to explain why. Who was that guy in the mirror? You wanted to know me better. So, here I am.
I wish I could go back a few years and show you me. And then ask you … am I who you want to be? I can’t do that, though, so I have to settle. I like who I am, M——-. I know it was difficult to accept me, but I wish you’d let me out earlier. We could have started having fun so much earlier in life.
Soon I won’t see you anymore. My name is already on all of the things that used to belong to you. I’ll replace the pictures of you in my room with ones of me. I’ll take ownership of all of the parts of your life that you still have a hold on. It’s almost complete. Everyone knows who I am now, and they know I want you to go away for good.
I’ll leave your ponies on the shelf, though. I like them.
Some final thoughts:
“I like to look like a guy, but I don't want to be one” to “I’m going to start hormones soon” in 17 months.
I had a ‘calmversation’ with Benjamin Boyce recently, and one of the things I brought up was the feeling that I became a different person while I was transitioned and that the person I used to be awakened when I detransitioned.
He asked “Was that person ticked off?” and let me say, I’m probably the most ticked off when I read this stuff, especially the letter to myself. I was such a smug little shit.
I’m angriest about about how certain I became, so quickly, especially when there were so many red flags.
SO MANY RED FLAGS.
The biggest red flag is how little I related to being “male” and was entirely focused around appearance and kept talking about how gender makes no sense. I started to more strongly identify as a “man” after I was on hormones, but that only lasted a few years before I was apathetic again.
If I were reading this as a critic, I would think some of the language that I used doesn’t sound authentic. So if you feel that way, I want to point out that it’s because you’re judging from modern culture in 2022 and not the perception of an ignorant 21-year-old trying to figure it out herself in 2009, mostly with the help of Tumblr.
The same ponies are still on my shelf today.