As a kid, I was a tomboy. I grew up in an extremely religious household with very rigid gender lines. Ever see the documentary Jesus Camp? My life was like that. We had ceremonies where fathers "married" their daughters. If you don't know what I'm talking about, Google it.
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Pedophilia was rampant in my church and I initiated the first police investigation into my father and other pastors when I was 12. Needless to say, I'd been sexualized at a very young age. By puberty, I began to realize I had crushes on girls. This was unacceptable.
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I dated my first boy when I was 14. He was 19. He raped me. Then, he told me no one would believe me because we were dating. I told my friends, but he'd been right. I began to feel even more separated from my body. I began having sex with just about any man that wanted it.
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The only relationship I had in my teens was with a young woman. We dated on and off until, when I was 17, my father found out and kicked me out. He told the rest of my family I was gay and addicted to drugs (I wasn't) and the dropped me like a sack of potatoes.
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At 19, the man I was dating and living with raped me and attacked me with a knife when I tried to leave him. I managed to escape, but haven't yet managed to get a solid restraining order. He stalked me for the next 4 years.
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At 22, I was only dating women. I was trying to get my life back and desperately trying to accept my own sexuality. Then, I went on a date with what turned out to be a transwoman. I wasn't attracted to her, but she seemed nice enough. After a few dates, she told she was upset.
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She was hurt that I didn't want to be physical with her. I told her that I was only interested in women (in my mind and at that time, it meant I was only attracted to biological females). I explained to her how I felt when I was with men. I felt used and distant from my body.
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She then told me that I should research more about trans identity and gave me links. Some time went by and I called her. I told her again about how my body felt like something I had no control over and she said that that was because I was trans. I felt awash with relief.
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I wanted so badly to feel like my body was my own and not subject to the whims of others. The more I read and watched, the more it seemed like these trans men had the same history of assault and abuse as I did. It gave me hope, seeing them seemingly at peace with themselves.
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Then, I proceeded to know ALL THE THINGS. I saw a gender therapist, whom I was referred to by the previous transwoman, who saw me very quickly because I was IN CRISIS (I wasn't). She was a lesbian woman, in her late 30s, and had specialized in gender therapy for teens and
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young adults for about 7 years. When I came in I told her right away that I wanted HRT. She explained that the usual process meant I'd have to see her for 6 months, live "as a man" during that time, and get a written letter to show my Dr. She had a close relationship with a
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prescribing clinician. All together, it was just over 2 months and I was on HRT. The whole time, I told her about my relationship to sex and how having my body touched by a man made me recoil. She (AN ACTUAL LESBIAN) suggested that was gender dysphoria. I even told her that
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I wasn't totally sure that I wasn't so uncomfortable with my body simply because of my history. She said it was unlikely. She prodded me often, asking if I was feeling safer living as a man. I did, even though it was purely my own delusion. I say that because I could only ever
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be seen as a boy. I'm 5'3" and had very feminine features, even on T. The confidence of safety was all in my own mind and I will always regret not having learned that lesson an easier way.
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After a few months, I began to feel extremely suicidal. I didn't recognize my voice, my hairline was changing, my mood spiked and dove, depending on who'd "misgendered" me that day. I was already having doubts. I asked my therapist if this meant I should stop and think more.
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My therapist, who had initially advertised HRT as something one can stop any time, now said I'd need to wean off and it'd take a long time to get back on T if I ended up wanting to continue. She said that doubting was normal. Suicidal thoughts were normal. It's a hard world.
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I stayed on HRT. I would only find out when I changed doctors, but the original doctor I saw had put me on 3 times the dose suggested for Ftms nowadays. I continued to have regret, severe depression, suicidal attempts. All were explained to me by the Community™ were because of
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transphobia. But, really, I'd made a huge mistake. By this point, I was leading a counseling group for trans teens and I realized I'd have to eat a lot of humble pie in order to admit to them that this may not be a good choice for all of us. I was too cowardly to do that.
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So, I got more and more into trans activism, shaking all the right hands, being quiet so all of the MtFs would be heard. I started voicing my thoughts with close friends, about how I felt we weren't getting proper treatment a d that HRT wasn't that helpful for all of us.
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The people I shared this with showed me very quickly that this was transphobic, medical transition was necessary for ALL. It seemed I was the only one with any doubt. I went back into being the best trans I could be. In fact, I wasn't even a transman anymore! No, I was NB.
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Then, a series of embarrassing takes wherein I'm waving my SJW flag as high as I can, ttying to get those points. I wanted to date women, but everyone said that meant I was heterosexual, which was a bad word in this portion of the Community™. Everyone is fluid, after all.
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So, I dated transwomen. They were people- not "good" or "bad." But then I dated a transwoman who started as a "NB man." They decided to go on HRT in the same month that they got them. They talked often about how pretty I was and how they wanted to be pretty and look fashionable.
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I absolutely find this person to be an exception. I'd known transwomen who got off on getting into women's bathrooms and "looking like a woman," but it was few and far between. When this person began lecturing me about not knowing what it was like to be a woman,
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I really came into my doubts. I DID know what it was like to be a woman. Part of that was to feel true fear, more than being misgendered or being looked at strange for shopping in the ladies' lingerie aisle. I knew violence acted on me because of my sex. But I'd also survived it
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My body felt wrong because it felt wrong for it to be treated so badly. I own that I went down this path, but I wish so badly someone had been in my life to remind me that womanhood doesn't have to be synonymous only with victimhood. I wish I'd known that my boundaries matter.
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There is a lot that's problematic with my story. Feel free to ask me questions or even remind me that I "should've known better." Yes, I should have! I should have had access to more critical dialogue around transition! We all should have that.
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