For many transgirls, there is one singular goal in mind… SRS. While getting surgery has always been part of my agenda, it has not been THE goal. My goal has always been to integrate successfully into society as a woman and be able to live my life fully and more richly than I was able to in the past. So far, I’ve done just that.

I also know that suicide rates are higher amongst post-op trangirls than pre-op. The reason for this being that so many girl attach a sense of identity to SRS, like having a vagina will suddenly make them female. But what they discover is that their life hasn’t really changed all that much and everyone still views them exactly as they did before. So suddenly they are stuck without anymore goals to achieve and their life hasn’t really improved any, and it’s depressing.

I was determined not to fall into this trap, and so my goal was always about getting my life on track as Ashley. At this point and time, I can honestly say that I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I’m proud of the woman I’ve become and I’m very excited about the direction my life is taking. So really at this point there feels like only one last obstacle keeping me from living my life fully and completely, and that is the surgery.  This is not about me completing my transition… I feel like I’ve transitioned already.  This is about me getting a very large obstacle out of the way so I can move on with my adult life.

As I mentioned in my last entry, I went in for a psych assessment to be recommended for surgery readiness. For those are aren’t familiar with the Canadian system, I’ll summarize: we have universal healthcare in Canada, and in the province of British Columbia, that includes SRS. The requirements to get province funded SRS are that you have lived at least one year of RLE (real life experience) and you are recommended by province approved psychiatrists. It can be a lot of red tape to work through, but if you dot your i’s , you can make it through.

The assessment went well. The psychiatrists seemed generally happy with where I was in my life and my outlook, and said that they were recommending me for surgery. Very good news. This would mean I would be on target to having my surgery in April.

But…

As part of the RLE, you need to provide letters from landlords, employers, etc… saying that they’ve know you as a female for at least one year. I worried about this part because I had moved around and hadn’t really worked except for the volunteer efforts for the greater part of 6 months. So I provided a letter from my therapist attesting I had been fulltime for a year, from my bank, and from the volunteer organization I do trans peer support for. I also provided a landlord letter from the time I stayed in the US and a letter from my current employment. I even provided the address to this blog that contains dated documents from the entire year so they can actually look up the exact day I went fulltime, complete with a continuous progression of photos. The only potential gap was the 3 months I stayed with my parents in Saskatchewan, but I figured that would be more than covered by the 3 letters I had attesting I was full time for the entire year. Or so I thought. The shrinks were less than positive about that, and were also unsure about the fact that some of the time was spent in the US and not in Canada. Apparently you’re not living fulltime if you leave the country. I forgot to mention that to everyone I met in Washington, DC when I introduced myself as Ashley. Or the fact that there would be an assumption that because I cannot prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was fulltime in the 3 months I stayed with my parents, that I had gone fulltime for 4 months, put it in the closet for 3 and came back out for another 5 months. I’m sorry, but that’s beyond ridiculous. Actually it’s more than ridiculous… it’s a bit insulting too.

Now I should point out as well that it’s not the assessors that make this decision. It’s MSP (Medical Service Plan) that is making the decision of whether or not to finance my surgery. The assessors are merely the psychiatric gate to give a green light to if they feel I should have surgery. Then I need to pass the MSP red tape of proving I’ve been fulltime for a year and they should approve it if they agree that I’m ready.

Now all is not lost, the assessors left me with the impression that I had a 50/50 chance of getting the surgery now or having to wait. They said MSP may come back and say I need to do another 6 months of RLE to be sure. Not the end of the world of course, but because of work constraints, this would mean I would need to wait until 2010 to get my surgery. I really don’t want to have to wait that long.

The other extremely disappointing aspect of this is, while surgery has not been an obsessive aspect of my transition by any means, I was suddenly put in a position where it felt in grasp. I got excited about it becoming real. I found myself laying there imagining what I would look like naked after. I have been feeling how wonderful it will be to not have to worry about if people can see a bulge in my pants or in front of my skirt. I could feel the incredible relief of finally having all this bullshit put behind me so I can just concentrate on my life. It was at my fingertips. And to suddenly have it pushed back away from me… I don’t want to say it feels devastating, but not far from it.

So now I wait for the decision. I was told it would be towards the end of October until I heard a result. Since then my mood has been anywhere from edgy and bitch to downright depressive. I don’t suspect that will change any until I finally hear. I’m a big believer in the power of positive thinking and I want to believe it will come back in my favour. I want to will it happen. But at the same time, I know I need to emotionally prepare myself for the fact that it isn’t going to happen.

I’m very, very frustrated.

And I hope they read this blog.

Ashley (since Sept. 2007 dammit)

I know it’s been awhile since my last entry.  Let me just say that selling a business is a lot of work and I kind of had to dedicate myself to that.  Let me also say that having the deal fall through the business not sell makes Ashley very depressed and not feel like doing anything constructive.  It’s strange, for the first time in my career as a business owner, I find myself sitting there during the day with nothing to do.  Everything is packed and moved out that needs to be.  Everything is all ready for another purchaser.  I could be ready to hand over the keys in 10 minutes now.  So where are they?  But this entry is not about my business.  It is about my ex.

I found myself coming to a bit of a realization recently regarding my ex-wife.  I’ve known for some time that she is not a good person.  I also believe that she may have mental health issues.  She recently told me that she used her money to buy part of a house in the area from some friends who were struggling to make ends meet.  They are intending to sell the house in 2009 before the world economy collapses.  This information is not based on any business acumen, study or logic.  It is based on the Mayan calendar that says the world as we know it is coming to an end.  Anyway, so while I am happy that my daughter actually has a physical roof over her head, I am upset that I am going to have to come back to this community as a woman to see my daughter.  But the major realization I came to occurred when she asked what my plans were for after I sold the store.  I told her I would be going away for a couple months and staying with my parents to take a vacation.  She then proceeded to guilt me by saying that she wouldn’t be able to bring my daughter all the way out there.  I wasn’t expecting her to and she knows that.  It’s a manipulation tactic to tell me that by leaving for any length of time, I am abandoning my daughter.  Even more important is the fact that I KNOW damn well that I’m going away for longer than 2 months.  I’m planning for more like 6 months.  But I just couldn’t get the words out.  I am still afraid of my ex wife!

Why am I still afraid of this woman?  What hold does she still have over me?  Why am I ashamed to assert what I am doing with my life when the only thing we share now is a connection through our daughter.  What’s more, I’ve worked hard to keep a happy environment for everyone.  Nice and calm and stable so everyone can get along.  I think that’s important and ultimately, I would like it if she could be my friend.  What hurts (and this is consistant) is that she never gives me an inch.  Trying to get her to talk to me in any way that doesn’t scream with the tone “what aren’t you dead yet?” is all but impossible.  She makes absolutely no effort to try and accommodate for me.  Actually I’m pretty sure that she feels that by allowing me to have any time with my daughter at all, she is accommodating me big time.

To give you some insight into my ex, she is a bully.  She spent a large part of our relationship doing a combination of lifting me up only to knock me down.  It’s a very cruel form of manipulation that keeps me looking to her for validation but destroying much hope in receiving it when it counts.  Then as I got deep into my transgender issues and she became more and more manipulative, I stood up to her bullying.  Let me just say that when you stand up to a bully, then they get really mean.  They try to push you down with force when they’re stood up to.  It was brutal, but I managed to hang onto my self-respect and get out of the relationship.  Now that she has no power over me, with the exception of my daughter, she only views me with a great deal of hostility.

I’ve decided that I can no longer allow myself to give anything of myself to this woman.  She is exceptionally good at goading me into arguments.  Arguments that cannot be won with her twisted sense of logic.  Just recently she cornered me and infuriated me to the point where I wanted to hit her.  It’s as if now the kid gloves are off because there’s no reason to be nice and all her powers of manipulation are at work.  There was a time I was able to get my game face on and let her spin her wheels without it being able to affect me.  But after awhile my guard comes down, and once it’s down I don’t like putting it back up.  Must I live being constantly on guard from this woman?  That would seem to be the case.  At least until she grows up.

Ashley

The final chapter of my old life is coming to a close, so I think I need to bay homage. Yesterday I received a mostly satisfying offer on my business. And I took it.

I started my video store in April 2003. It was born of my own personal determination, an extremely (almost unmentionable) amount of money, and good thinking. It’s not hard to walk into a small rural market and look at the local video store and say “I can do better.” And I knew I could do a lot better. Having a video store was always one of my dreams. Anyone who knows me, knows that I live and breathe movies. They are my passion.

My first store was a modified garage bay out in the middle of nowhere. Some funky paint, good design and marketing, 300 of my own personal DVDs, and my computer repair know how. All the shelving and counters were hand built, every detail lovingly applied. And to my surprise, it did eventually all come together and I was open for business. The rent was low, but the business even lower. There were a few depressing days where I would only see 1 or 2 customers. But I made the bills and continued to grow the business and built a solid reputation in the harbor.

Then I had my accident. On July 5^th of 2003 I was caught in a head-on collision with a drunk driver while coming home from work. It’s probably important to note that my wife was planning to go into the city that night so I was preparing to go home and put on a corset. J The accident did severe damage to my right ankle, among other things, and I spent 22 days in a hospital bed. I would be unable to put weight on my foot for 3 months and would continue to walk with a cane for a long time after that. Everyone around me told me I needed to close the store. That it would be impossible for it to continue on. But it did. The store was lovingly attended during my hospital stay by a couple customers who volunteered to help out. Once I was back, I continued to go into work every day either in wheelchair or on crutches. For anyone who has worked in a video store, you spend a lot of time putting cases back on the shelves. In my case, that translated to hopping around on one foot a lot.

Then after a year, we seemed to be doing well enough that we relocated into downtown Madeira Park. The rent was 6x higher, the size 4x bigger and it was on the 2^nd floor. But you couldn’t beat the visibility and it was right in the downtown core. The gamble paid off big time and suddenly business was booming by comparison. Sure the overhead was a lot larger, but we were now turning serious numbers in rentals and computer sales. Life was good.

It’s important to note that while my competitors were still plugging away at VHS, I made the decision to go DVD only. While that may seem like nothing now, this is back in 2003 in a rural market where DVD players were still in less homes. As a result I sold players for $99 and ran special 2-for-1 rental packages that essentially made the player free. It paid off, because when it came down to really expanding our customer base, we were able to maintain a much more impressive DVD only selection than our competitors that were trying to buy big titles in both formats. But I digress…

What I enjoyed most about the business, and perhaps you’ve gleaned this a little already – I’m really good at it. I came up with an in-store Netflix-like subscription program that actually worked and ended up being duplicated by many stores across Canada. I was able to almost perfectly judge the number of copies I needed of a movie every time. I was successful. To give a bit of perspective, in the beginning I had enough budget to bring in 2-3 movies per week with no extra copies. By comparison, when King Kong came out I needed 14 copies as well as all the other titles released that week. While this may not sound like much compared to your local Blockbuster, keep in mind that I’m in a place with 2000 people. There will never be a Blockbuster here because the market is too small. So by any measure, I was a huge success.

The turning point was really when my wife got pregnant with our daughter. I was dealing with her pregnancy difficulties, the purchase of a 2^nd location and renovating our house. I was really too exhausted to continue to make the business grow. During which time, my video competitor was purchased by my only computer service competitor and there suddenly became two video/computer stores in Pender Harbour. One too many. And the couple that bought it are an old fishing couple who have been in the Harbour their whole lives. Believe it or not, that does make a difference, and even though I’ve been here 5 years, people would start favouring them. Then more personal complications. After the baby was born, my wife sank into a huge depression and became physically debilitated. I had to take time away from work to care for them both. And her mental condition started to deteriorate as she became more and more difficult to deal with. All the while sales were continually sinking and I didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. And then the gender issues. Once that started again, it was all over. The only thing that mattered was Ashley.

One thing I realized not too long ago was that I opened my store only 2 years after I had my first gender crisis and subsequently suppressed it. I’ve been living and breathing my store for 5 years now. And I realized that when I suppressed everything, I put it into the store. The store became my identity, my reason for getting up in the morning, my purpose in life. So once Ashley came along, the store no longer seemed to have much purpose. Combine that with all the petty rumor shit that goes on about me around town and having my store suddenly became very bitter. I’ve never wanted out so much in my entire life. And now that everything else I have here is gone, the business is really the last link of the puzzle that is preventing me from moving on with my new life as a woman. Transitioning here is not really an option. So as a result I spend my days presenting as a man, a few scant hours dressing at night and one day a month where I go into the city to see my doctor and do it en femme. I feel like a crossdresser with growing breasts that feels the need to hide their shameful secret. I absolutely hate it and I can’t wait to shed that and go full-time.

And now my competitors, the fishing couple, want to buy so they have a monopoly. At first I didn’t want to sell to them, saying that the people of Pender Harbour deserve a better video store than they can provide. But then I realized – wait, I hate these people and can’t wait to get away. Fuck ‘em. But the store is still my baby. It’s my child and I gave birth to it and nurtured it through will and determination alone. I built a store out of absolutely nothing and dominated my market, and now I’m selling for more than what most businesses get on this coast.

I guess that makes me a success. And now life begins.

Ashley

I hate trans related movies. I find them so difficult to force myself to put on and even more difficult to watch. It’s compelling to me for obvious reasons, and painful I suppose for the same reasons. The other night I made the mistake of finally getting around to watching Normal.

For those who don’t know, I own a video store. This means I have access to a lot of movies. If there’s a movie I don’t see, it’s purely by choice, not opportunity. (please, please remove the experience of watching Date Movie from my memory forever) So whenever the opportunity arises to see a trans movie, I usually find myself procrastinating. My wife told me about Normal, a movie that was in a huge batch of DVDs we took away from our second store. At the time I was still in repressed I’m-not-trans mode. She was well aware of my trans issues, but assumed (like I did) that it was a thing of the past. Never-the-less, there was always this fear to actually sit down and be confronted with a transsexual movie. I was mostly afraid of coming away from it either wanting to kill myself or needing to be transsexual. Around the same time we got the hugely successful TransAmerica in, and once again I was afraid to watch it. I fully supported the movie and even recommended it to people, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it. I never got around to watching Normal.

Finally the other night, I made myself do it. The movie hit a lot of nerves and I ended up spending the rest of the night crying. Most of the morning too.

What bothered me the most was how silly I felt. You see Tom Wilkensen go through transition and he looks awfully ridiculous for much of it. But even worse than that, he doesn’t look any different than many transsexuals I know. So I was upset watching how ridiculous he appeared and then looking down at my own budding breasts and feeling pretty damned ridiculous myself. As well the relationship between Wilkensen and Jessica Lange hit a few sore points too, watching her struggle. I think I’ve always maintained a certain level of guilt about what I did to my family by being myself. None of this really excuses a lot of my wife’s actions and I’m happier being out of the relationship regardless.

I think there’s a sense for many transsexuals that they will reach the end. They will get SRS, or become passable and the journey is over and they can live life as a woman. But it never really ends. The trade off for living a life that I can find respectful is that I no longer have the ability to effortless manipulate through society. That’s a simple fact, and it saddens me. I’m not a shut-in or a trailblazer, I just want to live a comfortable, and yes, even normal life. My great fear is that I will spend my life with Suzanne and we will tuck ourselves away creating a semi-deluded environment where we don’t have to examine how ridiculous we appear. And really who gives a fuck what other people think. At the end of the day, I think I have to raise my hand sheepishly and say “I do.” I think there a sense that it wasn’t watching the movie that upset me near as much as it felt like I was being forced to really see myself rather than living inside myself. I’m not entirely sure I liked what I saw.

At the end of the day though, no matter how depressive this may sound, I know it’s just that I’m down and I’ll get over it. Really, it has to be expected that when travelling a journey as unpredictable as this, that the road will be bumpy.

Ashley

It’s the little things that matter the most in this critical time.  I’m definitely very awkward right now.  My hair is long.  My skin is softer.  I have to wear a sports tank under my shirt to keep my budding breasts from poking out.  I flailing around with clothes trying to find a style and a look appropriate for me.  I’m playing with my voice.  I continue to walk in both worlds out of necessity, succeeding absolutely in neither.

And still, of all the brave accomplishments I’ve achieved here, it remains to be the little things of external validation that give me the greatest joy.  Yesterday I had an Instant Message conversation with my mother, which is a massive achievement on her part being technologically challenged.  But when she greeted me, she said “Hi Ashley.”  Something I hear 50 times a day from people online.  But none of those 50 people are my mother.  It may seem like such a tiny, insignificant thing, but it meant the world to me.  More than she’ll probably ever understand.  I hear tales of girls who are post-op for years and still can’t get their family to use female pronouns, must less their new name.  Not only is that a massive affront and insulting, it is hurtful in ways that they will never understand.  To the opposite end, having my mother right out of the gate willingly use my new name just kept me floating in clouds all day.  We continued to have a conversation about the changes my body is going through and talked about our breasts for awhile.  It occurred to me after that this was perhaps our first mother/daughter conversation.  And I couldn’t be happier.

Last week I left a long comment on an old friend’s blog, whom I am already out to.  I post on his blog as Ashley Lynch.  I always knew he would be respectful of my decisions, but I think he had some difficulties understanding in the beginning.  He probably still doesn’t understand.  But I think there were some aspects about it that felt very “off” to him.  But when he responded to my comment, he started off by saying “that’s right folks, everything she says is true.”  Once again, an incredibly simply, possibly even token gesture, but it meant so much.  One simple voluntary and non-prompted use of a 3 letter pronoun and it’s like being completely validated by someone you care about.

So I will continue to cherish those little moments when my daughter calls me Ashley or someone says “Miss?” in public.  These are the moments that make me feel like I am really accepted in the world.

Ashley

There sits a portal that consists of a single free standing frame. Lining the frame is a thick, stretchy membrane. The only way through the portal is to stand head on and push at the membrane with all your might. Pushing inward, inward into the next world. Stretching that thick membrane as you fight it to gain ground. Pushing so hard until it starts to stretch thin. And eventually with enough force and sheer determination, the membrane starts to tear. Your hand reaches through to the world on the other side. You can feel it. It feels so beautiful, more than you ever imagined. You want to pull back and look at it, but that would only cause you to lose your footing and be pushed back. No, that cannot happen now. So close. You can taste it. Can’t stop now.

That approximates how I’m feeling right now.

There’s one thing I’ve discovered in my journey that is wondrous beyond all else. Self-esteem is something that has eluded me most of my life. I grew up as a precocious, outspoken young boy, I liked to think of myself as a young Lenny Bruce – making people laugh and pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable. Then high school happened. There can be any number of explanations: the insecurities of puberty, growing into an awakening male body that was not my own, being small and intimidated amongst a large group of hormonally aggressive boys. No matter what the cause, I retreated into myself and became very depressive and incapable. This insecurity and social anxiety was something I was never able to break free of, no matter what I did. I tried self help courses and books, I made lifestyle changes, tried creating a new “me” in a new city… nothing worked. Life always seemed to be mostly about “someday” and I remained meek. And as time marched on, I grew to be even more cynical and jaded, especially concerning other people. I hated everyone. Everyone seemed like a joke to the universe is what I expressed, but on the inside I knew it was I who was the joke.

Another thing that always bugged me is how my skin fit. That may or may not sound like a goofy notion, but the term “sagging skin suit” always seemed appropriate to me. It wasn’t that I was out of shape or anything, but there was always a definite feel of wearing my body like getting lost in a baggy sweater that’s just too large to be comfortable or practical. This vague discomfort in my body is the closest I ever got to “hating it.” Part of me just knew it wasn’t right.

And now… now I am a woman. I can feel my budding breasts pressing against my shirt. I continue to remove much of the annoying hair that grows on my body. My skin is becoming soft and supple. But strangely enough… my skin feels tighter.

Getting back to what I was saying earlier… I always worried greatly about my self-esteem. Even more so as I anticipated transitioning. I feared becoming one of those bitter transsexuals that hates themselves and the world and continues to do so until they finally kill themselves. My ex used to tell me continually as well that she was sure transitioning would only make me more miserable, not happy. And so I entered transition. And along the way found a sense of self-esteem I never imagined possible. I have now accepted myself, love myself, and am confident in my ability to be who I am and do what I want. It’s really an amazing feeling. Mostly it just makes me want to reach back in time and shake myself silly until I get it. But it’s okay. I’m here now. To be honest, there’s very much a sense of the universe unfolding for me.

And I can’t wait fully push through that portal.

Ashley

Just to make it clear from my last post, I have not left my daughter. The letter has not and never will be delivered to anyone and I will continue to stay in my daughter’s life. She deserves it. I deserve it too. I love her to death and we’re having a great time together on the days that we are able to spend together. Here’s some video of her taken just today.

If you’re reading this letter then it means that I’m not really a part of your life right now.

It truly breaks my heart that I had to do this to you, I wanted to be able to do so much better for you and I hope that one day you can forgive me and understand just how difficult it was. For now, I’ll just give an explanation. You should be old enough to know this by now.

When you were first born, I remember holding you in my arms, your mother still off in recovery. It was just the two of us in a darkened hospital room at 4:00am and as I cradled you lovingly in my arms, I made a promise that I would always be there for you and I would do right by you. Such promises are easy to make to a sleeping newborn baby, but difficult to keep in the confusion of life. It was also that night that I vowed to put all this “being a girl” stuff behind me once and for all. After all, I was a father now, and you were (and are) so very important to me.

I’m sure your mother has told you the details by now, or at least I hope she has. Just so you can hear it directly from me, I’ll tell you that I am a transsexual. This means that I was born as a boy on the outside and as girl on the inside. I’m sure you can imagine how difficult and confusing that may be if you felt like you were a boy on the inside, but everything in the world told you that you were a girl. I fought it for as long as I could, but eventually it simply became too difficult to live. At one point, I think I even thought that I could live as a girl vicariously though you, but that doesn’t work. Now I’ve gotten help from doctors who are helping make the outside match the inside. This is why you have two mommies and no daddy.

But this is not the reason I had to leave.

Because of who I am, your mother pressured me into giving her sole custody of you. This is a decision I later regretted, but it was one that was made under incredibly emotionally circumstances. So now I had to just sit back as your mother decided to trot wherever she wanted with you on a whim. Eventually she did come back and I was able to spend some time with you. I tried to spend as much time as possible, but it was so difficult for a huge number of reasons. Firstmost I was working 10 hours a day every day with no breaks. I didn’t have much choice, because when your mother and I split, she selfishly took half of everything and left me with $90,000 of debt and bills to deal with. It took me a long time to climb out from under that debt and I lost almost everything I had.

When your mother did come back with you, things were very difficult. We had a lot of arguments and she was very combative on the good days, and downright mean on the bad days. It made me feel a great deal of anxiety about visiting you, and I’m sure it was difficult on her too. But still I could see that look in your eyes when I would come, and it made it worthwhile. Actually, the first time your mother brought you back, you almost didn’t seem to recognize me anymore. You were only 18 months old at the time, but I understand how strange it must have been for you, to have me disappear from your life and then suddenly reappear at such a young age.

Eventually we got to a point where I would take you for periods at a time and we could spend some real time together having fun. And sometimes we did have fun. I’ll never forget those visits and every time I saw you smile and heard you laugh. Sometimes it was difficult though. There were times where you would instantly miss your mother and start asking for her the whole time. And it was a very confusing period for you. You had picked up from somewhere that I was “daddy”, even though neither your mother nor I ever used that term. I didn’t really mind, but it bothered your mother a lot. So the whole time she’s training you to say Sean instead and I’m preparing you to say Ashley. No wonder you were confused. So often you would call me “daddy” and I would correct you. At which point I could see the confusion on your face and you would decide you didn’t really want to be with me anymore.

Then there’s the fact that I don’t feel like a very competent parent. It’s not that I’m a bad parent, I just don’t have much experience. Your mother has always been with you, and sometimes I really didn’t know what to do with you.

So here I was, overworked, stressed, degraded by your mother, feeling like I was only confusing you and making your life difficult, and then there was an opportunity to escape it all. The last thing I ever wanted to escape was you, I always wanted you to be in my life, but trying to look at the big picture I felt I would be able to do better by you by not being in your life for awhile. As much as the decision killed me, it seemed like the best answer for everyone.

So I left. I went far away and tried to get my life together. If it means anything to you, I’m very happy now and living my life as a woman with someone who cares for me very much. When your mother and I were still together, I almost wrote you a completely different kind of letter explaining why I was no longer in your life for very permanent reasons.

I hope one day we can develop a real relationship now that you are older. I cry nightly about how I missed seeing you grow up and wished I could have been there for you. Mostly I’m upset that I made you a promise that I could not keep, that every parent should be able to keep. I didn’t feel like I completely abandoned you, because I knew you were in good hands with your mother. But now you’re old enough to make your own decisions and form your opinions. If you want to move forward I would love to have the chance to make good on my promise to you. Mostly I would like to be your friend, your mother, and just be in your life.

Your loving other mom,

A ficticious post dated letter to my daughter that will never be mailed.

I’ve received some interesting and heartfelt comments regarding my last post. I guess I knew I was treading on thin ice a bit with such a topic, but I love provoking people too. One thing I do know is that I actually posted my last blog in a bit of a rush one morning, so I don’t think I had the opportunity to address the topic as thoroughly as I wanted. Instead I wanted to share some comments and respond to them, not as any sort of self-proclaimed expert, but just a woman with an opinion.

Robyn on Yahoo wrote:

I have had times where I have felt weaker. I may be somewhat, but I am still pretty strong. It may be because I have worked manual labor jobs. I had a Russian girlfriend in beauty schoo. who is a massage therapist. Her grip was very strong. She is a thin gal too. A woman can also control her own ship quite well. It is quite amusing watching a bunch of testosterone flying around and thinking if they just calmed down they could have done such and such much easier. My wife truly couldn’t open the jar.

Thanks for the great comment Robyn!

I want to make it clear that I’m not saying that women are weak or incapable in any sense. In fact I find such assertions quite insulting when other people make them. I guess I’m finding myself fascinated about the base differences between men and women, especially on an anthropological level and how it relates to us as modern women and men. When it comes to equality, I’m all for equality of treatment and social standing, but I don’t support kind of blindness that says the only difference between men and women is what’s between our legs. If that were true, my journey wouldn’t be near as important to me and worth this incredible upheaval. We know there’s innate differences: women are better at multi-tasking and communication, men are better at focusing and risk fulfillment. This is all scientifically proven fact. As transsexuals we get the benefit of dancing in both worlds and at times taking part in none. Having been born men, our brains have already been hardwired. So while we may never achieve (on average) the multitasking skills of the average woman, we will be capable of parallel parking better than the average woman… providing we can finally figure out how to make a hard turn without nailing our boobs in the process.

I understand that women and men come in all shapes and sizes and that gender is not a preordained destiny. There are many physically strong women and emotionally connected men. Perhaps the world is truly gender grey and those that are absolute male or female are really flukes of nature or products of socialization. But we do live in a socialized world with distinct gender roles, and while they certainly change over time, they are not going to go away.

I think the trick is to find how to work within those societal roles without violating your sense of self. For the first time in my life I feel like I’m getting close to that. And if anyone wants to go completely against the societal roles and attempt to shift them to create a wider birth for all man and womankind, you will have my utmost respect and admiration. I just don’t think I can be that woman.

Dana wrote:

On the notion of transwomen becoming physically weaker due to hrt, I have to say that was true in my case. Less testosterone and more estrogen = weakened ability to create muscle mass. However, this is also amplified in that it’s my guess that most of us have a desire to deemphasize our more masculine upper-body structure and so don’t do upper body workouts, etc., thus allowing the effects of hrt to take stronger hold.

But the overall idea of weakness is one of perspective. Cerrainly, in average physical strength, men have a hormonal advantage. But, as you point out, as far as strength of will, strenth of convictions, strength of emotions and just about any other category where strength is measured in some way or another, women are the equal of men and often surpass them…

I must also comment on your thoughts on how men and women “operate.” I think your generalizations do a disservice to modern women (and may even perpetuate stereotypes – i.e., that women can’t be decisive or are manipulative – that are at least partially responsible for the continuing “glass celing” as far as women’s pay, etc.). In today’s society many men are in contact with their emotions and don’t feel the pressure to “be in control” or rule the family unit like in days past. And certainly many, many, many women are just as decisive and take charge when it comes to things that matter, as men.

Of course, that’s just my 2 cents, I could be wrong…

I think you’re more right than you know Dana. I totally agree that many MtF (especially myself) play up the feminizing effects of the hormones as a counterbalance to the masculinizing effects we’ve hated our whole lives but been subjected to. I’m lucky in the sense that I was never a large guy. Never muscular or strong to begin with, so I find passing is not very difficult… until I open my mouth. But that doesn’t stop from from wanting to take advantage of every feminizing effect I can achieve. I want that body hair GONE! I want to train my waist down a couple inches to give the illusion of hips. I’m growing my hair as long as possible. Ultimately I don’t want to be Paris Hilton femme, and I suspect most don’t either, I would just like to end up some place in the middle…. an average girl. I do suspect I’ll swing towards the heavy femme first before I find my comfortable zone. But that seems natural to me, having been denied my whole life.

One thing I’ll say again is that I find idea that men are better than women in any way, or vice versa, to be bullshit. Men and women are just different. As people we share many inherrant similarities. But as separate genders, there are many, many differences other than just interlocking parts. I know I have a tendency to make absolute generalizations… lumping a large majority of people into one group. Unfortunately that’s just my way of doing things. I understand there’s a danger in doing that because it fails to account for the individual, but I believe the things I say, statistically over a large number of people have a tendency to be more true than not. However, at the end of the day, it’s still just my opinion and perspective.

The other thing to keep in mind, is while I agree with your statements, I’m also in a gender role obsessed state as a newly transitioning transsexual and amateur sociologist. So at this point I seem to be much more interested in the differences between men and women than anything else. Like many things about myself, I suspect that will level out over time. I guess you could say I’m not bi-partisan.

Thanks for the great comments girls and keep them coming!

Ashley

I’m starting to change now. I can feel the effects. I am the anti-Hulk. I am undergoing a slow-motion metamorphosis. I am becoming a woman.

The first thing I’ve noticed is that my skin is getting softer… creamier. I feel it mostly on my arms, but it definitely does feel more delicate. As well I noticed when I shave I’m now more apt to cutting myself or getting razor rash. My breasts haven’t really grown much more though. I know it’s early, I haven’t even been on estrogen for 3 months yet, but I’m all paranoid they’re not going to grow anymore. I’m just going to be stuck with these AAA budding pectorals. How lame would that be. I even started researching progesterone and am going to talk about it with my doctor. I know it increases the chance of breast cancer, but I’m willing to take that risk if I pass a cancer screening.

There’s something else I’ve noticed that is quite significant. I’m getting weaker. Over the weekend I was just assaulted with computer repair work. The only thing that baffles me is I saw almost none during the last 8 months and was convinced that I had developed a poor reputation for computer work. But now I’m received and average of about 3 systems a day. As I was trying to lift the computers the computers at work, I found myself having a certain degree of difficulty. They felt twice as heavy as they should have. I’ve always been little, but even after my accident, I remember holding a computer under one arm and hopping on one foot across the store to transport. No way in hell I could do that now. All this coincides with feelings of fatigue I was feeling. It was bothering me why I was feeling so listless and down physically, and then it hit me. I’m becoming a girl physically. Essentially my muscles are going into atrophy and shrinking.

And the only thing I can think of is: wheeeeeeeee!

Which brings up the concept of are girls weaker? Because when I would tell some people I was getting weaker, their cockles would stand up and they would assert that I was not getting weaker just because I’m a woman. I’m certainly not getting stronger… physically. Women as week has been purported all throughout history, and continually, brave women stand up to these stereotypes and prove them wrong. In many circles we are still known as the fairer sex, and in many countries women are still regarded as 2^nd class citizens. But there are differences between men and women. If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing this. One of those differences is that men are physically stronger, on average, than women. It is the male prerogative to pick up heavy objects and put them down again, grunting the whole time. It is my female prerogative to whine as I pick up those computers and bitch about how I just nailed by boob. But none of this makes me weaker as a person, just different. There was something said as a comment on another girl’s blog that I have saved because it really affected me. It said: “There is no contradiction in my mind between being feminine and being strong.” I agree heartily. Some of the strongest people I know are women. It’s just not because they can lift the tail end of a car off the ground or open stuck jars.

I’ve also figured out a little about the differences in how men and women operate. As a man, you’re controlling the ship and it’s your job to make sure it gets where you want to go. Straight line, very effectient. As a woman, I’ve found that no longer works. Remember when I was talking about being hijacked by my emotions and forced to go where they want me to go? The more I try and steer the ship, the more frustrating it becomes, because I’m no longer in control that way. That’s a man’s way of doing things. Instead, the woman will manipulate the waters around the boat, so that when it gets to the end of it’s journey, wherever it is going, she will have ended up in the place she wanted the boat to be. You definitely see that attitude in relationships where men think they are in control and women let men think they have control, all the while adjusting the world around the man so that the man will take them exactly where they wanted to be. And while it can be frustrating and fruitless to a woman to attempt to control things in a straight line mentality, do not underestimate her ability to apply the brakes.

And the reason why women get men to open those jars is not because they can’t, but that it makes the man feel good about himself when he does.

Ashley