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I'm trying to see if it is doable to post from a phone. On personhead Andrew Ducker's* advice I switched from my pretty old theme to "neutral good" & that made reading possible (otherwise the reading page is fatally tiny). It's kinda maybe sorta doable to write in the post an entry box but it's pretty awkward still, and I've yet to find a better way to navigate to dreamwidth than to do a google search. That can't be right, can it?
Anyway, what I wanted to do was to mutter about gender identity as a child of the 50s-60s. I've been really hesitant because my story is quite different from the trans and nonbinary narratives I've seen. Not that I have never said anything about it before, being hesitant only seems to shut me up relatively, not absolutely.
I have a feeling that if I were half the age I am I might- might, not definitely would- identify as nonbinary or even trans. But I am also quite sure that neither describes my life now, not adequately. And that's okay! But it's mysterious to me, because it's such a big thing and because ideologically my trajectory is supposed to be nonexistent, or impossible except for severe transphobic oppression. Which, I recognize, is part of the background of my life, notwithstanding my odd little experience.
From earliest childhood that I can remember, and I remember to 18 months according to a conversation with my mother, till sometine in my late teens/early 20s, I was really bitter about being a girl. I never did get good at femininity (except in the eyes of my dear old late sweetie, whose ideas about femininity were his very own, thankfully). But during those early years, if I hadn't been an atheist child in an atheist family, I'd have prayed to be a boy.
I sat in front of a mirror on multiple occasions squishing down my budding breasts (which came ridiculously early) thinking "it's not too late, maybe they'll stop right here & I can pretend they aren't there." I didn't actually care much about having a penis but my vulva didn't seem like it fitted on me. When we played soap opera games in the neighborhood I was always a male. Adventure games don't count because everybody wanted to be a man in those, because who wants to be the actor that just sees the Creature (whatever it is at the moment) & just screams? You've got to at least be the guy who dies dramatically, or the goofball comic relief, if you're not one of the outright heroes or the villain (or the villain's complicated snivelly sidekick, my favorite role). One girl's mother told her to tell me to knock it off when we had too many bittersweet reunion/separation/makeup kisses.
But I didn't, like my friend Louisy, grow up to be a lesbian. I didn't grow up to be trans, even though my sexual fantasies from preschool on all involved me being a boy with another boy. I am not exaggerating. The earliest sex dreams I can remember are two: being a boy lifted down from the bed of a pickup truck by Maverick, and being a boy gladiator under the protection of an older gladiator (I must have seen ads for Spartacus, because it was too soon to have seen it on tv & I can't imagine we went to see it in a theater. In theaters we mostly watched silent comedies, art movies, Peter Sellers, & foreign movies, bonus if they were like Soviet or Indian or Korean, which in those days were jaunty depictions of young women escaping South Korean exploitation to end up working joyfully on North Korean heavy industry).
Something happened when I was about 18. It didn't happen when I was 15, 16, or 17, when I first tried having boyfriends. Those were frustrating to everyone involved: in theory, I was as sex positive as we all were in 1968-70, but in reality, exposing my flesh to sex felt, well, exposed, threatening but not because of a boy or any morals but because-something I couldn't name (& still can't). But suddenly sex became possible & exciting to me, & I liked boys, & I didn't mind being a girl.
My storytelling persona remained, usually, a gay man. The first gay romance I wrote at about 13, involving a vampire (the vampire is straight, his friend who tries to make voluntary blood donations work is gay). I have always been concerned that there's something at least potentially wrong with this, so I do a lot if careful reading of my work to make sure it doesn't fetishize gay men, & that it is inclusive across all issues.
I was 18 when I fell in love with my fellow. When I told him I wasn't rock solid about my gender identity he said he was the same (though honestly he didn't do much to outwardly indicate he was anything but a regular old cis man). I don't know what happened. But at some point having my fellow was enough: I didn't need to be a fellow. Though the character in my sex fantasies & my stories remained, usually, a gay man. I just wasn't bitter about being a woman. I've never gotten completely comfortable with having a woman's body and sexuality, but it doesn't make me miserable either. I did get more comfortable about the very existence of female parts, but mostly only after taking care of girl babies. I couldn't remain squeamish while also being positive and careful around them.
I don't wish I grew up now instead of then. I am not sure the ultimate gender/sex outcome would have been really different in terms of whether I would have taken a woman's or a man's identity.
But. Some years ago a friend (or acquaintance, maybe, since we've fallen out of touch) said that she was preparing herself to give her possibly-trans child puberty blockers if it looked appropriate down the line. What I had read at the time made me think that was physically very harsh, & I said so, & she said the physical side effects were less of a worry for her than the statistics about trans kids and suicide. My immediate thought was that her child would be protected by having her as a mother but I was actually convinced after very little thought that she was right, especially after thinking about all the kids who get the same treatment for short stature & do okay.
Lately I've been thinking what a relief it would have been to get those treatments from the age of nine or ten, just to not have to be in the world of Maturing Adolescent Girl for a few more years. If you ask me what choice I would have made if I had had the choice safeguarded for me in that way, I have to admit I don't know at all. But. I would have liked being breastless & periodless for some more years.
I've been a widow for more than 13 years, and on an estrogen blocker for five years (to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer) I have no libido at all now, so no sex fantasies to speak of. I mean I skip past sexy bits in books & movies now because consuming them is like eating food when your sense of taste isn't working (I know this first hand). I can hardly write, and when I do the POV is likely to be an old woman. I have no idea what my trajectory illustrates.
I do know that it's not a contradiction to trans rights though! Just because my life isn't easily explained by our current attempts to understand trans development-you can't draw conclusions negating the lived experiences of trans people. The fact that, after having described an unusual gender & sexuality development path, I have to go out of my way to emphasize this, is a reflection of the stupidhead times we live in.
edit: *"personhead" was supposed to be a placeholder till I remembered/rediscovered how to make the proper link appearance happen, but I have failed, sorry Andrew.
Anyway, what I wanted to do was to mutter about gender identity as a child of the 50s-60s. I've been really hesitant because my story is quite different from the trans and nonbinary narratives I've seen. Not that I have never said anything about it before, being hesitant only seems to shut me up relatively, not absolutely.
I have a feeling that if I were half the age I am I might- might, not definitely would- identify as nonbinary or even trans. But I am also quite sure that neither describes my life now, not adequately. And that's okay! But it's mysterious to me, because it's such a big thing and because ideologically my trajectory is supposed to be nonexistent, or impossible except for severe transphobic oppression. Which, I recognize, is part of the background of my life, notwithstanding my odd little experience.
From earliest childhood that I can remember, and I remember to 18 months according to a conversation with my mother, till sometine in my late teens/early 20s, I was really bitter about being a girl. I never did get good at femininity (except in the eyes of my dear old late sweetie, whose ideas about femininity were his very own, thankfully). But during those early years, if I hadn't been an atheist child in an atheist family, I'd have prayed to be a boy.
I sat in front of a mirror on multiple occasions squishing down my budding breasts (which came ridiculously early) thinking "it's not too late, maybe they'll stop right here & I can pretend they aren't there." I didn't actually care much about having a penis but my vulva didn't seem like it fitted on me. When we played soap opera games in the neighborhood I was always a male. Adventure games don't count because everybody wanted to be a man in those, because who wants to be the actor that just sees the Creature (whatever it is at the moment) & just screams? You've got to at least be the guy who dies dramatically, or the goofball comic relief, if you're not one of the outright heroes or the villain (or the villain's complicated snivelly sidekick, my favorite role). One girl's mother told her to tell me to knock it off when we had too many bittersweet reunion/separation/makeup kisses.
But I didn't, like my friend Louisy, grow up to be a lesbian. I didn't grow up to be trans, even though my sexual fantasies from preschool on all involved me being a boy with another boy. I am not exaggerating. The earliest sex dreams I can remember are two: being a boy lifted down from the bed of a pickup truck by Maverick, and being a boy gladiator under the protection of an older gladiator (I must have seen ads for Spartacus, because it was too soon to have seen it on tv & I can't imagine we went to see it in a theater. In theaters we mostly watched silent comedies, art movies, Peter Sellers, & foreign movies, bonus if they were like Soviet or Indian or Korean, which in those days were jaunty depictions of young women escaping South Korean exploitation to end up working joyfully on North Korean heavy industry).
Something happened when I was about 18. It didn't happen when I was 15, 16, or 17, when I first tried having boyfriends. Those were frustrating to everyone involved: in theory, I was as sex positive as we all were in 1968-70, but in reality, exposing my flesh to sex felt, well, exposed, threatening but not because of a boy or any morals but because-something I couldn't name (& still can't). But suddenly sex became possible & exciting to me, & I liked boys, & I didn't mind being a girl.
My storytelling persona remained, usually, a gay man. The first gay romance I wrote at about 13, involving a vampire (the vampire is straight, his friend who tries to make voluntary blood donations work is gay). I have always been concerned that there's something at least potentially wrong with this, so I do a lot if careful reading of my work to make sure it doesn't fetishize gay men, & that it is inclusive across all issues.
I was 18 when I fell in love with my fellow. When I told him I wasn't rock solid about my gender identity he said he was the same (though honestly he didn't do much to outwardly indicate he was anything but a regular old cis man). I don't know what happened. But at some point having my fellow was enough: I didn't need to be a fellow. Though the character in my sex fantasies & my stories remained, usually, a gay man. I just wasn't bitter about being a woman. I've never gotten completely comfortable with having a woman's body and sexuality, but it doesn't make me miserable either. I did get more comfortable about the very existence of female parts, but mostly only after taking care of girl babies. I couldn't remain squeamish while also being positive and careful around them.
I don't wish I grew up now instead of then. I am not sure the ultimate gender/sex outcome would have been really different in terms of whether I would have taken a woman's or a man's identity.
But. Some years ago a friend (or acquaintance, maybe, since we've fallen out of touch) said that she was preparing herself to give her possibly-trans child puberty blockers if it looked appropriate down the line. What I had read at the time made me think that was physically very harsh, & I said so, & she said the physical side effects were less of a worry for her than the statistics about trans kids and suicide. My immediate thought was that her child would be protected by having her as a mother but I was actually convinced after very little thought that she was right, especially after thinking about all the kids who get the same treatment for short stature & do okay.
Lately I've been thinking what a relief it would have been to get those treatments from the age of nine or ten, just to not have to be in the world of Maturing Adolescent Girl for a few more years. If you ask me what choice I would have made if I had had the choice safeguarded for me in that way, I have to admit I don't know at all. But. I would have liked being breastless & periodless for some more years.
I've been a widow for more than 13 years, and on an estrogen blocker for five years (to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer) I have no libido at all now, so no sex fantasies to speak of. I mean I skip past sexy bits in books & movies now because consuming them is like eating food when your sense of taste isn't working (I know this first hand). I can hardly write, and when I do the POV is likely to be an old woman. I have no idea what my trajectory illustrates.
I do know that it's not a contradiction to trans rights though! Just because my life isn't easily explained by our current attempts to understand trans development-you can't draw conclusions negating the lived experiences of trans people. The fact that, after having described an unusual gender & sexuality development path, I have to go out of my way to emphasize this, is a reflection of the stupidhead times we live in.
edit: *"personhead" was supposed to be a placeholder till I remembered/rediscovered how to make the proper link appearance happen, but I have failed, sorry Andrew.