One of the joys of working for a very large organisation is this, sometimes people within the chain of management aren't based in the same country as you. Even though I work at my employer's head office, my boss's boss's boss works in our New York office. And he's in town next week and wants to meet his latest employee. Mainly I think because I'm the first person they've hired to do the job I do so there's some interest in what I'm getting up to. No problem, I can talk to anyone.
My boss arranged the time and place, so that as she put it: "He can meet the real you".
I looked at her for a moment, one eyebrow raised. She laughed nervously.
Thursday, 7 October 2010
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Dah-di-dah-dit dah-dah-di-dah
If you get a group of t-girls together, in the UK at least, you won't have to wait long before the subject of militaria crops up. It's part of the stereotype.
Mrs. J and I spent Sunday lunchtime in a very nice pub in Wiltshire with a group of t-girls, four of us and two partners. I think I may have stumbled on another stereotypical facet of the Average British T-girl, amateur radio. Around the table we had a G7, a G1 and a G0. I have to admit to letting my licence lapse a few years ago so I was unable to contribute much.
It's getting more and more as though I should be looking at my acquaintances and asking "Would the non-trans ones please stand up"?
Mrs. J and I spent Sunday lunchtime in a very nice pub in Wiltshire with a group of t-girls, four of us and two partners. I think I may have stumbled on another stereotypical facet of the Average British T-girl, amateur radio. Around the table we had a G7, a G1 and a G0. I have to admit to letting my licence lapse a few years ago so I was unable to contribute much.
It's getting more and more as though I should be looking at my acquaintances and asking "Would the non-trans ones please stand up"?
Monday, 4 October 2010
Do trans men struggle to be arseholes, and other musings on gender identity
A couple of things have set me thinking in the blogosphere of late. Melissa posted a self-described rant about her personal statement of gender identity the other day and I had a "frank exchange of views" with Anne on the same subject in a comment stream over on Halle's blog.
I can legitimately describe myself here in the virtual world as female because my brain has an unfortunate habit of asserting a female gender identity. But looking in the mirror on an average day, I'm a bloke. Let's get that straight right at the start. Beard stubble? Check. Bits? Check. Brow ridges? Check. Not ecstatic about it and never really have been, but that's the way the cookie crumbles for the gender dysphoric.
I could fix that if I had the right conversations with the right doctors and embarked on the rocky road of transition, then I could describe myself as a woman. But even with all the chemistry and anatomy fixed I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I'd never be quite the same as a female at birth woman. No, this isn't about chromosomes, prostates and ovaries, it's about upbringing. The one thing that unites all of us who are or have been blokes with brains from the girl parts bin is this: no matter how long ago we transitioned if we have, how well we pass, whether we choose to sleep with blokes, women, both or nobody, we all of us never had the chance to grow up as girls or young women. We're graduates of bloke school while they have degrees from girl academy. If you've ever met a girl who's XY androgen insensitive you'll understand what I'm trying to say, she's got similar internal anatomy and girl brain, same chromosomes as an MtF TS, but because she had the girl upbringing she doesn't have any of the baggage. From the very few I've met (completely outside this sphere), the chances are she's someone I can look in the eye too. Sigh.
Bloke school teaches you that you can be an arsehole if you want to. It's quite socially acceptable to be a violent aggressive rude philandering misogynist bastard if you want to when you're a bloke. If you do it with aplomb, you're even respected for it, admired as some kind of Jack-the-lad. I'll never know at first hand what girl academy teaches you but its bloke equivalent is the school of which I am a summa cum laude graduate. I hope I've not committed any of my list of socially acceptable bloke sins that it equipped me for, but six years at an all-boys school means I sure am going equipped. I hated that school!
We can't lose that bloke upbringing, however hard we might like to. It shapes who we are, and it's why so many of us get it slightly wrong so easily when we first stray into attempted womanhood. And in our character we've all got that bastard training sitting there too. Some of us never use it, some of us let it slip out occasionally and others never put it away. Tell me you've never met a trans woman in the real world with just that little too much of the bloke in her character, I know I have.
I've often wondered whether trans men have the opposite problem, whether as they assume the male role they have problems learning to be the arsehole that blokes are sometimes expected to be. Their support networks rarely seem to intersect with ours so I've met so few trans blokes face-to-face I've never had the chance to ask. I know with a brain like mine I'm hardly placed to be an arbiter of masculinity, but from where I'm sitting if they don't manage to master that facet then they'll be all the better blokes for it.
What am I trying to say? Really assuming a gender is not as simple as proclaiming yourself as such. I sure as hell wouldn't deny anyone the right to do so but anyone who does so has to be able to back it up with more than just the assertion, whether they've seen the doctor or not.
I can legitimately describe myself here in the virtual world as female because my brain has an unfortunate habit of asserting a female gender identity. But looking in the mirror on an average day, I'm a bloke. Let's get that straight right at the start. Beard stubble? Check. Bits? Check. Brow ridges? Check. Not ecstatic about it and never really have been, but that's the way the cookie crumbles for the gender dysphoric.
I could fix that if I had the right conversations with the right doctors and embarked on the rocky road of transition, then I could describe myself as a woman. But even with all the chemistry and anatomy fixed I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I'd never be quite the same as a female at birth woman. No, this isn't about chromosomes, prostates and ovaries, it's about upbringing. The one thing that unites all of us who are or have been blokes with brains from the girl parts bin is this: no matter how long ago we transitioned if we have, how well we pass, whether we choose to sleep with blokes, women, both or nobody, we all of us never had the chance to grow up as girls or young women. We're graduates of bloke school while they have degrees from girl academy. If you've ever met a girl who's XY androgen insensitive you'll understand what I'm trying to say, she's got similar internal anatomy and girl brain, same chromosomes as an MtF TS, but because she had the girl upbringing she doesn't have any of the baggage. From the very few I've met (completely outside this sphere), the chances are she's someone I can look in the eye too. Sigh.
Bloke school teaches you that you can be an arsehole if you want to. It's quite socially acceptable to be a violent aggressive rude philandering misogynist bastard if you want to when you're a bloke. If you do it with aplomb, you're even respected for it, admired as some kind of Jack-the-lad. I'll never know at first hand what girl academy teaches you but its bloke equivalent is the school of which I am a summa cum laude graduate. I hope I've not committed any of my list of socially acceptable bloke sins that it equipped me for, but six years at an all-boys school means I sure am going equipped. I hated that school!
We can't lose that bloke upbringing, however hard we might like to. It shapes who we are, and it's why so many of us get it slightly wrong so easily when we first stray into attempted womanhood. And in our character we've all got that bastard training sitting there too. Some of us never use it, some of us let it slip out occasionally and others never put it away. Tell me you've never met a trans woman in the real world with just that little too much of the bloke in her character, I know I have.
I've often wondered whether trans men have the opposite problem, whether as they assume the male role they have problems learning to be the arsehole that blokes are sometimes expected to be. Their support networks rarely seem to intersect with ours so I've met so few trans blokes face-to-face I've never had the chance to ask. I know with a brain like mine I'm hardly placed to be an arbiter of masculinity, but from where I'm sitting if they don't manage to master that facet then they'll be all the better blokes for it.
What am I trying to say? Really assuming a gender is not as simple as proclaiming yourself as such. I sure as hell wouldn't deny anyone the right to do so but anyone who does so has to be able to back it up with more than just the assertion, whether they've seen the doctor or not.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Not enough about them
I read a lot of tales of partners in this game. Wives and girlfriends, for mostly these stories come from heterosexual MtF people like me.
Something concerns me in the reactions, they are sometimes very one-sided. The trans person is a saint, the partner is a bitch. Whereas the reality is not one of saints and sinners, nor winners and losers, only losers. Nobody wins here.
It occurs to me that our paths might be smoother in these matters were we as a community to try harder to understand the turmoil associated with being the partner.
Because sometimes a bit of that might be all that's needed to ensure a happier ending.
Just a thought for a Sunday morning.
Something concerns me in the reactions, they are sometimes very one-sided. The trans person is a saint, the partner is a bitch. Whereas the reality is not one of saints and sinners, nor winners and losers, only losers. Nobody wins here.
It occurs to me that our paths might be smoother in these matters were we as a community to try harder to understand the turmoil associated with being the partner.
Because sometimes a bit of that might be all that's needed to ensure a happier ending.
Just a thought for a Sunday morning.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Busy month
So it's the end of another month, about as busy a one as I've ever had. Not enough time to sit down and use a web browser so there have been a lot of blog comments I never got round to making and one or two posts that never made it here. Aren't you all lucky!
Reflections on a new job, one month in. I knew the work would be more interesting and I knew the environment would be less stressful. I didn't expect that along with that would come such an upsurge from the girl. I'm working in a mixed environment and I guess some girl envy must be creeping in, I'm surrounded by very intelligent, attractive and successful women and while I'm loving it because I've completely left the bloke act from my previous employer behind it would be too much to expect for some of the scruffy feeling not to get to me.
But there is plenty for me to do and I have a new experience, that of being respected as someone with my particular speciality. I've experienced so many awful management cultures it's a shock to find an organisation that's at pains to get it right.
Now I have my feet under my desk (specially raised, with extra-large office chair and monitor riser) I can look forward. The job shift has been a success and I don't want the girl to get in the way. Time to start planning another outing to keep her occupied I think. It might seem surprising in this environment, but I've only had a couple of chances to be out of safe spaces presenting female since my debut in May, the opportunities just haven't presented themselves.
There's something to look forward to!
Reflections on a new job, one month in. I knew the work would be more interesting and I knew the environment would be less stressful. I didn't expect that along with that would come such an upsurge from the girl. I'm working in a mixed environment and I guess some girl envy must be creeping in, I'm surrounded by very intelligent, attractive and successful women and while I'm loving it because I've completely left the bloke act from my previous employer behind it would be too much to expect for some of the scruffy feeling not to get to me.
But there is plenty for me to do and I have a new experience, that of being respected as someone with my particular speciality. I've experienced so many awful management cultures it's a shock to find an organisation that's at pains to get it right.
Now I have my feet under my desk (specially raised, with extra-large office chair and monitor riser) I can look forward. The job shift has been a success and I don't want the girl to get in the way. Time to start planning another outing to keep her occupied I think. It might seem surprising in this environment, but I've only had a couple of chances to be out of safe spaces presenting female since my debut in May, the opportunities just haven't presented themselves.
There's something to look forward to!
Mrs. J in the community
Regular readers of this blog will know that my wife and I are happily married and determined to stay that way through all this mess. She has her ups and downs with respect to my gender issues just as I have my ups and downs of the effects of GD, but we work through them and move on.
Our interactions with our local community of transgendered people have been of great help and support. We have both made some good friendships that extend beyond the theatre of safe spaces and support groups into the real world. If any of you read this blog, you know who you are, and thank you.
This week saw my wife take a new step. I am a member of a well-known UK forum for trans people, mainly because events in my town seem mostly to be organised through it. I wouldn't call myself an extremely active participant, but it's useful to stay in touch and it's where some of our friends can be found. This week my wife joined the same forum because they're her friends too. I hope she enjoys herself there.
I have had people comment in the past about my accepting wife. I correct them and say that I do feel incredibly lucky to be married to someone like her, but "accepting" is a simplification. This isn't in the manual for Being A Wife, and as we've both learned the new manual we've started to come to an understanding of it all rather than a mythical acceptance. Of great help in this has been her accompanying me in my explorations of the trans community and I'd advise any other couple in our position to do the same together.
Our interactions with our local community of transgendered people have been of great help and support. We have both made some good friendships that extend beyond the theatre of safe spaces and support groups into the real world. If any of you read this blog, you know who you are, and thank you.
This week saw my wife take a new step. I am a member of a well-known UK forum for trans people, mainly because events in my town seem mostly to be organised through it. I wouldn't call myself an extremely active participant, but it's useful to stay in touch and it's where some of our friends can be found. This week my wife joined the same forum because they're her friends too. I hope she enjoys herself there.
I have had people comment in the past about my accepting wife. I correct them and say that I do feel incredibly lucky to be married to someone like her, but "accepting" is a simplification. This isn't in the manual for Being A Wife, and as we've both learned the new manual we've started to come to an understanding of it all rather than a mythical acceptance. Of great help in this has been her accompanying me in my explorations of the trans community and I'd advise any other couple in our position to do the same together.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Unemployed? Sod off!
I posted a couple of days ago about my appointment with the psychiatrist on Friday, and my referral to the GIC. What happened not long afterwards has troubled me slightly over the weekend and I think I'd better write about it here.
On Friday evening I happened to meet a friend from another town in passing. She's like me, bloke on the outside at the moment, at the start of the NHS system. She's in a more perilous state than me though and unlike me she's wanting to go the whole way, hormones and GRS where I'm seeking a way to avoid them without going insane. She is also unemployed at the moment, as I understand it on medical grounds.
I've been referred to the GIC. She hasn't. She's had her first appointment with the gatekeeper psychiatrist in her area, but unlike me she has been unable to secure a second appointment. The reason? She's unemployed and I'm not.
Now I understand all about Real Life Experience. How in the NHS interpretation of the Standards of Care you have to prove you are able to live in your target gender role in the real world before being prescribed any hormones. And how that has to include employment, voluntary work or education. I have seen many different views on RLE, but they have a reason for it and that's the way they do it.
I do not however understand how the employment requirement for RLE can be applied to an appointment with the gatekeeper. At the gatekeeper level you are several steps and a lot of time away from even thinking about RLE and there should be no employment requirement for psychiatric counseling alone.
I am unaware of any other condition covered by the NHS for which there is a requirement to be employed before they'll even see you. Forget about the RLE requirement for a minute, that's about one treatment choice not the diagnosis. Maybe I'm missing something, but wasn't the NHS supposed to be about equal access to treatment for all regardless of their means? Or indeed what they are suffering from. I understand this may be a local policy from my friend's area rather than national NHS policy, but someone needs reminding of what it says on the NHS charter.
On Friday evening I happened to meet a friend from another town in passing. She's like me, bloke on the outside at the moment, at the start of the NHS system. She's in a more perilous state than me though and unlike me she's wanting to go the whole way, hormones and GRS where I'm seeking a way to avoid them without going insane. She is also unemployed at the moment, as I understand it on medical grounds.
I've been referred to the GIC. She hasn't. She's had her first appointment with the gatekeeper psychiatrist in her area, but unlike me she has been unable to secure a second appointment. The reason? She's unemployed and I'm not.
Now I understand all about Real Life Experience. How in the NHS interpretation of the Standards of Care you have to prove you are able to live in your target gender role in the real world before being prescribed any hormones. And how that has to include employment, voluntary work or education. I have seen many different views on RLE, but they have a reason for it and that's the way they do it.
I do not however understand how the employment requirement for RLE can be applied to an appointment with the gatekeeper. At the gatekeeper level you are several steps and a lot of time away from even thinking about RLE and there should be no employment requirement for psychiatric counseling alone.
I am unaware of any other condition covered by the NHS for which there is a requirement to be employed before they'll even see you. Forget about the RLE requirement for a minute, that's about one treatment choice not the diagnosis. Maybe I'm missing something, but wasn't the NHS supposed to be about equal access to treatment for all regardless of their means? Or indeed what they are suffering from. I understand this may be a local policy from my friend's area rather than national NHS policy, but someone needs reminding of what it says on the NHS charter.
What's brown, and comes out of Cowes?
Ah, the sights, sounds and smells of the British countryside, marvelous! My dad has spent a short time in hospital for a minor procedure, something we expected around Christmas but that happened now due to the whims of NHS waiting list planning.
So I've found myself going back to nature for a couple of days, over at my parents place keeping an eye on our small herd of cattle. Not an onerous task, but I guess mucking out isn't to everyone's taste. I couldn't escape the stuff, yesterday afternoon when I went out in search of blackberries I managed to tread in a cowpat, thanks ladies! Maybe wellies would have been a better choice than trainers to cross the field, I've been gone too long.
There was a time many years ago when I saw myself one day taking on this herd when it became too much for my dad. How much has changed since a younger me thought anything was possible. It's not just the effort required or the meagre financial return associated with small-scale farming but the less pleasant side of it. Cattle are not objects, mindless automata dedicated to taking in fodder and producing milk, beef and manure. Instead they are complex and gentle creatures, to get the best out of them you have to get to know them and understand their ways. They are all different, just like us.
I don't know our current animals as well as I knew the generation before them. They know me and accept me grudgingly because they've seen me with my dad, but I don't think any of them would let me near a calf. I was rather glad of this unfamiliarity yesterday as I was mucking out, some of the animals were steers destined for market within the next few weeks.
I am probably too sentimental about all this but I guess it's the way I'm built. I should be a vegetarian, but don't have the guts.
Elsewhere this morning I harvested some of the apples that will make this year's cider. It's going to be a good pressing.
So I've found myself going back to nature for a couple of days, over at my parents place keeping an eye on our small herd of cattle. Not an onerous task, but I guess mucking out isn't to everyone's taste. I couldn't escape the stuff, yesterday afternoon when I went out in search of blackberries I managed to tread in a cowpat, thanks ladies! Maybe wellies would have been a better choice than trainers to cross the field, I've been gone too long.
There was a time many years ago when I saw myself one day taking on this herd when it became too much for my dad. How much has changed since a younger me thought anything was possible. It's not just the effort required or the meagre financial return associated with small-scale farming but the less pleasant side of it. Cattle are not objects, mindless automata dedicated to taking in fodder and producing milk, beef and manure. Instead they are complex and gentle creatures, to get the best out of them you have to get to know them and understand their ways. They are all different, just like us.
I don't know our current animals as well as I knew the generation before them. They know me and accept me grudgingly because they've seen me with my dad, but I don't think any of them would let me near a calf. I was rather glad of this unfamiliarity yesterday as I was mucking out, some of the animals were steers destined for market within the next few weeks.
I am probably too sentimental about all this but I guess it's the way I'm built. I should be a vegetarian, but don't have the guts.
Elsewhere this morning I harvested some of the apples that will make this year's cider. It's going to be a good pressing.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Stuck transsexual
I had an appointment with my local gender specialist psychiatrist yesterday. Nothing special and it went very well, just talking about my referral to the GIC.
He had a colleague with him who he was training. I had no objection to her presence, so the first ten minutes or so of the appointment was dedicated to his filling her in on my background and situation. His summation of my position for her amused me, it seems I am a "Stuck transsexual".
It must be a medical term and all, but for some reason I can't help thinking of pigs.
He had a colleague with him who he was training. I had no objection to her presence, so the first ten minutes or so of the appointment was dedicated to his filling her in on my background and situation. His summation of my position for her amused me, it seems I am a "Stuck transsexual".
It must be a medical term and all, but for some reason I can't help thinking of pigs.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Meeting Jenny
So, a couple of weeks into the new job, and it's all a little different. One part of working for a large organisation that's new, is meetings. Most things that happen at my employer require them, what with there being so many departments that all need to talk about stuff and all.
But they aren't so bad really. No doughnuts, but the coffee's good. And most of my colleagues are female, so I never need to worry about putting up a front in them. I just sit there mentally in girl mode, at peace with the world.
One brought a bit of a shock yesterday though. A bloke from sales, or marketing or something. All shiny suit and brightly coloured tie. With a big knot. I could never master those. Hand shake, blimey, his dad must have told him that a strong handshake was a sign of virility or something, there's no need to crush! I'm not going to play that game, when you look like me you can hand-crush for England but it it really necessary? This might seem odd, but I've found people still think I'm a bloke without all that. More's the pity.
Anyway, he's straight into the slightly domineering bloke routine. I get the impression he's not annoying personally, in fact I'd probably get on quite well with him down the pub, but he just seems so over the top in this setting. Do genetic girls feel the same way when they encounter someone like this or do they just not notice it, just part of the scenery?
I feel as if I've crossed a line somewhere.
But they aren't so bad really. No doughnuts, but the coffee's good. And most of my colleagues are female, so I never need to worry about putting up a front in them. I just sit there mentally in girl mode, at peace with the world.
One brought a bit of a shock yesterday though. A bloke from sales, or marketing or something. All shiny suit and brightly coloured tie. With a big knot. I could never master those. Hand shake, blimey, his dad must have told him that a strong handshake was a sign of virility or something, there's no need to crush! I'm not going to play that game, when you look like me you can hand-crush for England but it it really necessary? This might seem odd, but I've found people still think I'm a bloke without all that. More's the pity.
Anyway, he's straight into the slightly domineering bloke routine. I get the impression he's not annoying personally, in fact I'd probably get on quite well with him down the pub, but he just seems so over the top in this setting. Do genetic girls feel the same way when they encounter someone like this or do they just not notice it, just part of the scenery?
I feel as if I've crossed a line somewhere.
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