Unless you've been really, REALLY androgynous for most of your life, AND are happy with remaining as such after changing your label, correcting your gender or presentation is a surprisingly involved task. Let's step through a typical day in the life of Your Humble Narrator, circa August 2005.
10:00 AM. I wake up alone in bed in my Columbus, OH apartment. My roommate is at work. In my dream, I was still pretending to be male. I sit up and am reminded in several ways that I am already definitely on the bigger side of an A cup and am developing curves. Oh yeah, I'm a girl! Rock. I flip on the computer, take my hormones, check jobs, and head to my shower bath.
In the shower, as usual, I take great pains to shave my face very closely and carefully, as I can't afford electrolysis.
After drying off (and a bit of nude mirror gazing), I take 10 minutes or so to do my makeup. Concealer, foundation, mascara, lipstick. Natural colors. Shadow remains on my upper lip, even beneath my concealer. Shit.
12:00 AM. I head out the door to do a little job hunting and grocery shopping.
I wasn't passing very well yet. Even going grocery shopping seemed intimidating. Anyone who paid me any mind seemed nervous. People stared and took second glances. I just kept smiling gently and acting like a lady. (Though, I did flirt with the odd nervous male clerk. Cruel? Perhaps. But everyone needs comic relief.)
At first, this new attention seems amusing. Empowering, even. But it quickly began to wear on my psyche, and gave me a "unbelonging freak" complex. I never blended well. Familiar feelings, different reasons. At the checkout counter, everything always went wrong. But practice makes perfect. I was new at this.
Once again, we return to Augtember Umpteenth, 2005...
5:00 PM. After coming home and eating my cheap frozen pizza, I call the temp agency I applied at a week ago. I won't name names. One of the owners had given me a weird, nervous interview. They didn't contact me for a week afterward.
"Oh, hi, Milla! Sorry, right after you applied, several of us in the office went on vacation!"
Ahh, I see. Um, you know, evidently they never did come back from vacation.
I'm glad, too.
Other than job discrimination, perhaps the biggest issue the transgendered person faces, especially early on in his/her/hir transition, is confidence. It's a bit of a duality.
You feel so wonderful and free when being yourself in public, and it feels as though the hormones (if they've been started yet) are doing amazing things to one's appearance. Although they are, you probably have a ways to go before passing as your true gender in public, no matter how girly- or manly-looking you may feel.
On the other hand, if you feel like you're being "read"-- in that you're getting funny looks, uncomfortable stares and second glances-- one commonly begins to feel far less confident. As confidence is a huge factor in passing, this can tend to put you in a negative feedback loop. Especially under the scrutiny of the checkout counter.
Dudette's Syndrome is perhaps one of the strangest side-effects of transitioning from male to female in the middle of one's life, which affects non-romantic relationships with males. Even if the relationship isn't much affected directly-- and it often isn't-- the new context changes everything.
You don't have complete "girl" status, but you're not "one of the guys" now either. As per the usual, you're sort of stuck in between with a mixed, incomplete set of gender privileges. Sometimes, especially early on, it's not uncommon to be called "dude" with a hastily (but tardily) added "-ette". At least in my generation.
It's understandable, though. Often, to friends, coworkers, and family, your transition literally feels as though the "old you" is slowly replaced by this new person they hardly know. Going through the entire grief process for the person they thought they knew is, unfortunately, the norm.
On the other hand, it's not always easy for the transwoman to relate to male friends and family as female. I find myself relating to them, again, as sort of a "dudette," not that that's what I really am, but rather because that's how we've related to each other for years and years.
It's not a huge concern, but it really can make things awkward and stilted sometimes.
I bet my FtM brothers experience the same thing in reverse, and that has to be even more difficult. Eek!
Transsexualism, like other intersex conditions, is something that just happens in some sexually reproducing animals. We humans now have a more-or-less effective way of dealing with that.
But the notion of "becoming a woman" or "becoming a man" can, in various ways, lure individuals who are largely comfortable and happy with their assigned genders into transitioning. This usually pans out to be a Bad Thing for all involved.
To help prevent misguided people from doing irreversible damage to their lives and bodies via ill-advised gender transitions, there are now a number of safeguards in place. By far, the most commonly used system for safer transition is the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. The HBSoC protocol provides guidelines for therapists and gender specialists in helping patients cope.
So the network of caretakers in gender therapy have mostly mutually agreed on these guidelines. As such, surgeons and endocrinologists require written recommendation "letters" from therapists and psychologists before they will provide hormones or surgery.
The guideline for beginning hormones is a minimum of three months therapy or full-time living. My therapist also required dressing as my true gender in group, and a couple of outings in public as myself. (Which were quite interesting, hee!) One letter is required.
For surgery, two letters (or signatures) are generally required. One year of living full-time as yourself, a significant, documented amount of volunteering, employment, or schooling, and a legal name change will probably be expected by your therapist. At minimum. This is collectively known as the Real Life Test. [Your Humble Narrator will have completed this by the end of the year. She has already been living full-time for exactly one year.]
The HBSoC is not by any means a legal requirement, but to help prevent fiascoes and lawsuits, the vast majority of the trans caretaker network mutually enforces it. This is very much a Good Thing, because otherwise, there'd be a much larger number of very unhappy, litigious men with neo-vaginas about.
Right. You've come out to everyone, you've got a half-decent wardrobe together, you just started hormones, and you've been out in public as yourself a few times. But still, it feels like you don't belong, people get nervous, and it's clear you're not quite ready for prime-time just yet. The reason is clear, and it's something you've dreaded ever since beginning your transition.
It's VOICE! Dun-dun-dunnnn.
FtMs, you guys are sooo lucky in this regard.
At first, the idea of using my poor testosterone-damaged vocal cords to emit an acceptably female tone was extremely intimidating. But I think I managed pretty well on my own without expensive DVDs or special training, merely by keeping a few pointers in mind and practicing non-stop. Depending on one's "natural" voice, it can be easier or more difficult to accomplish this, but the vast majority of MtF girls are capable of sounding quite convincing with enough practice. (If you can do the Monty Python old lady voice, you can do it.)
As is oft-repeated, the most important aspect of a female voice isn't pitch, or even the "singing" changes in pitch, it's resonance. The male voice sounds deep and rich largely because males are taught to reverberate their voices in their chest cavity, adding lots of harmonics. Barry White, I'm looking at you. (Mmmm-hmm.) So to project a female voice, one must find her "head voice", speaking from the head and not the chest. Talking "through the nose" can also help sometimes. All this helps produce a clearer, more feminine-sounding base tone and is the basis of most MtF voice methods.
Pitch is also important but average male and female voices really only vary about five whole steps in pitch, and getting everything else "right" will forgive a low pitch, except in extreme cases. More importantly, one should change pitch almost as if singing, and use high pitches to emphasize words while keeping a steady volume. Punching the volume of the voice and using a monotone sounds male. It's also helpful here to use the lowest falsetto you can manage.
Vowels. If you listen carefully to female speech, vowels and certain words are often pronounced differently. It's almost like a sub-accent. This has helped me out lots.
Even your choice of words can affect the perceptions of others. Although it's an aspect of society I'm none too fond of, as a lady you're expected to be less commanding, less confident, softer-spoken, gentler, and more refined. Cisgendered women can get away with "mannish" language and behavior better, but it can out a transwoman.
Female HRT won't change the voice very much. The little it does do is a result of changed muscle and skin tone, as well as the new shape of the face, neck, and chest. But it did seem easier and easier to do my new voice through continued disuse of the old one. I don't even have to think about it anymore. Surgery is available to raise the lowest pitch one can make, but problematic and risky (one could lose her voice entirely!) The method I've outlined actually sounds better, so MtF vocal surgery is very much a risky, costly last resort with current techniques.
I'd totally give MP3 examples here of the voice I used to use and the one I'm using now, or even make this a spoken-word entry, but I don't have my microphone with me here in Wisconsin. Ah well, maybe someday.
Appy polly logies for the lack of updates recently. If it's any consolation, I do have a large non-personal entry coming up soon. It rocks, honest!
One of the reasons for the serious lag in updates lately is that I'm simply running out of transition-related topics. Feel free to suggest them via comments or email if there's anything you're curious about. It's Ask a Tranny!
But mainly, I've had some rough emotional spots and general foot-dragging to deal with. After all, those are the perks of being a fucked-up bipolar chick who gets her sex hormones via air mail.
Speaking of which, I look pretty tonight. (Please bear with me.) I was about to brush my teeth, and my reflection in our large bathroom mirror struck me. I'm not drop-dead gorgeous, but through all the personal hubbub, sometimes I fail to even notice all the wonderful progress I make. Yes, for a girl who grew up with testes, and has only been on female HRT for a little over a year, starting at 30, I actually look pretty okay!
This sort of downtime is exactly when I lose sight of why I'm going through all this soul-rending crapola to begin with. When I'm down, frustrated, or otherwise unhappy, often I get a feeling I've come to call The Doubt.
Occasional cases of The Doubt are not at all uncommon among transfolks. One of my trans friends has reported experiencing this post-op, even. It's the strong, distressing feeling that you really belong to your assigned gender after all, that transition is futile and crazy, that one still looks very male or female.
I'll admit it: The Doubt has almost caused me to give up on transitioning a couple of times. It's such a powerful feeling that it has surely, sadly changed the minds of some otherwise newly happy, comfortable people.
Thankfully, there's also the flip-side of the coin: Certainty. I've had moments of such blaring certainty, I can end some Doubt spells just by remembering that feeling, along with my 2-year-old driver's license photo:
Patita Pirata asks: "Is there anything you miss about living as a man? On the flip side, what's your favorite thing about living as a woman?"
Good questions, Patita!
I don't miss much about living in the male role, but a few things were easier to deal with.
I think the thing I miss the most, and I hope it's not disappointing, was passing so flawlessly. I was ma'amed 7-8 times in my 29-year lifespan before I transitioned. That wouldn't be a great passing rate for a non-trans person, but much better than I am likely to get now, even if I "went back."
I also miss some aspects of male privilege. Yes, guys, it's very real. I had more license to act and present myself in certain ways because, after all, boys will be boys. Well... usually. I was allowed to act smarter and more confident, and customer service/tech support guys seemed more eager to please me, and more confident in the information I provided. 'Cause girls don't know nothing about boy stuff.
And then of course, being a girl is a huge pain sometimes because we're expected to put a lot more effort into our day-to-day appearances. Which leads neatly to your next question; It's actually my favorite thing at the same time!
I have to admit that my favorite thing about femalehood is appearance: body shape, clothes, jewelry, makeup. It feels a lot more natural, and it can be a lot of fun to get dolled up and go out without fear of ridicule. The clothes are far more interesting and varied, and much more comfortable usually.
Being allowed to have and show feelings is a definite plus. I'm not ridiculed when I cry. We're allowed to touch each other.
Except the occasional cattiness, women have a sort of empathy for each other I really appreciate. When I'm with other women, I don't feel like an outsider like I do with men, and I'm not automatically assumed to meet male stereotypes, especially negative ones. I can look at other girls and their clothes without them assuming I'm gawking at their figures. I feel like I belong. I can bash men. (But only in fun, guys!)
It's way easier for me to get dates, especially with boys, now.
Brights, pastels, and especially pinks are no longer a mortal sin. And there are more than 8 colors at all.
I could go on for hours about why I'm glad I'm female in umpteen-hundred ways, but those are my favorite!
But actually, the common notion that MtF transitioning takes balls is misguided, and I'd like to expound. That's a pun that isn't, and while I've always felt very free to be different, I was very timid about transition in the beginning.
For most transsexual people, there just comes a time where you know it has to be done. Period. The self-imposed ultimatum of transition or suicide (which I dealt with personally!) happens too often. Having wanted this my whole life, I bawled for six hours straight, out of terror, when I decided to give in and "become" the real me. So it's not often a real choice per se, by most definitions. It's more a cross to bear.
Thankfully, people are usually much more accepting (or just plain quiet) about it than one might assume, especially when going out dressed as yourself for the first time. But it does really help to be stubborn! Most people who begin therapy, and maybe even have a brief stint on hormones, quickly learn that they don't want to transition that badly. Whether this is due more to personal error or societal pressure is hard to say.
So, yeah. I'm not brave, I'm just female enough to have to go through with it. And lucky enough to pass!
Thanks so much for your support of the transgendered. Everyone who offers it. We need all we can get!
Things weren't all that bad in reality, but it sure did feel like it. I couldn't really place just why.
Part of the problem was, I got depressed again. No, wait, that was the whole problem. Transgurl had run out of steam. I was still dealing with legal problems from July '05. I could have been sent back to jail for two and a half months at the drop of a hat. I was Doubt-y. And I only saw Connie a couple hours on weekdays; I was working at Goodwill for free every night because I had-ta. That last bit was the kicker.
Connie and I once volunteered a couple of Wednesdays at a different thrift store. A few of our co-volunteers made the experience less fun for us than it could have been, so we stopped going. But otherwise it helped me get out of the house, and we both love helping out folks who are even poorer than we are.
But at Goodwill, I felt like Little Miss Criminal in the Blue Criminal's Apron for Criminals or something the whole time. It might have been only my own insecurity toying with me, but only a few red-aprons interacted with me regarding anything beyond business. (And they were great folks, those non-judgmental red-aprons.)
So yeah, anyway, that's done. No more fine; I paid the community back for my crime by instead hanging up used clothes! Ah well. My probation should end very soon now, and that will make it much easier to become employed at all. Employment is good. A necessary evil at worst. It pays for hair removal. Internet. And miscellanea like rent and food.
Today's questions come from reader Katie. She writes:
I'm a 35yo, MTF, who hasn't started hormones yet. Your photos look very dramatic, so I'm wondering what type of regimen you're on. [...] Also, I'd like to get your opinion on something. I work in a very, very, (did I say very?), conservative office environment. So, I'm wondering, how long do you think (in your opinion) I could start taking hormones without people noticing?
Thanks for the questions, Katie!
I'm on 2mg of estradiol valerate (Estrace) twice daily, 100 mg spironolactone (Aldactone) twice daily, and 5mg Provera in the evening. I've been on that regimen for most of my transition.
On a regimen like mine, you can probably go six to eight months before you'd have to start wearing a tight sports bra. After about a year or so, I'd reckon that people might start to wonder anyway, depending on your weight/build, style of dress, and how observant your coworkers are. I've read over and over that one can hide the effects of HRT indefinitely, but my own experience would suggest otherwise.
These are of course only guesses, as I went full-time at around 4 months on HRT. I was fairly thin then, for me (a size 14), and nobody at the musician's store I worked at suspected anything. If getting "caught" will be a problem at work, there is the option of slowing the changes by omitting meds or reducing doses. This, I'm told, won't harm the final result.
Hormones change you psychologically as well, and Provera especially can make you really PMS-y or otherwise moody and irritable, so be careful to take them exactly on time!
----
Y'know, I kind of dig being sort of a tranny agony aunt. So, whether you're just a curious bystander, thinking about MtF transition, or still in the trenches (like yours truly), don't be afraid to email me questions, or just post them as comments!
Also, I'm working hard on categories. I just kind of added them over time. But never went back and assigned them to older entries. So now I'm doing just that! Woo!
Yep, mm-hmm. Cisphobia. n. The irrational fear, loathing, or distrust of a cisgendered person or group of people.
It sounds like the latest vocabulary word over at Freeperville, but it's not. Let me explain.
Just the other night, Connie and I were doing some shopping. I paid the cashier this time. Usually, it's no more problem for me than anybody else anymore, but this time, I grew a bit nervous approaching the checkout.
Just like old times. We've been shopping at that exact Copps store on occasion since I first visited my brother here in Appleton. I didn't pass back then, and we've gone there often enough since that some employees probably know me. It was getting near closing. Three cashier/bagger ladies were sparsely congregated at the two lanes nearest the main exit, looking as if they'd been talking.
My mind begins to click and whir as I approach. This is unusual now that I pass well. Why? They must be gossiping. About what? Me, of course: I'm trans. And they know it from back then. They must have been gossiping about me. Their demeanor seemed "off" to me, especially when the other cashier picked up a can of tuna I dropped.
I talked about it with Connie out in the parking lot, mildly upset, but she'd noticed nothing strange at all.
There's a chance I was right, but that's beside the point. I jumped on these assumptions with little more solid evidence than me being transgendered.
I've noticed that I'm far from the only transperson to have this persecution complex on occasion. For example, an older trans friend of mine, who shops at the musicians' store I used to work at, was totally convinced they talked about her when she left. Once, I carefully "spied" on them for her after she left the store one time. (I wasn't out at work yet.) Not so much as a look or a peep out of anyone. I let her know it was cool, and she was visibly relieved.
Cisphobia is understandable when you consider the social climate for transpeople, even today. It's improving in most areas, but still far from friendly. Assuming everyone is trans-friendly can even be hazardous to your physical safety. But the other extreme, cisphobia, can be a trap, leading one to have feelings and suspicions that closely resemble acute paranoia.
My fellow transfolks, it's possible to be too careful, and it can damage the individual happiness and social health we've worked so hard for.
Unlike my previous attempt at earning a living, my employment with the thrift store is going swimmingly!
Workday seven ended at three, and I felt really good. There is considerable pressure for fast work, even for new recruits, and surprisingly, the job is so physical that I'm still feeling sore and worn. But what makes it totally worth it is the sense of accomplishment every day. (Also the cash.)
I pass well enough now that nobody on the staff, except the manager, suspects I grew up any differently. The whole gender thing has never been less of an issue! The manager doesn't pay it any mind at all, and she respects my preferred name fully, even adding it to my legal name on the time cards.
When filling out the paperwork my first day, I made sure she understood that I preferred that nobody know I'm trans, and she said she doesn't like firing people, but if anyone gives me any shit about that, they will be let go. (Just not in so many words.) Yay!
So as far as being a tranny at work goes, the situation is practically ideal. I have a very respectful, sympathetic manager, and my co-workers are unawares and as pleasant with me as anyone else. The only employee restroom is even non-gendered, despite having two stalls. Rawk.
(Besides all that, I can wear big hoop earrings, skirts/dresses, and spandex tops. And my nail polish can be as obnoxious as I want. Hee!)
This means that getting a signed note or whatever from the boss documenting that I worked a "significant" time presenting as myself (RLT requirement #2) shouldn't be difficult or awkward, and I'm concentrating on saving up for a legal name change (RLT requirement #3) as quickly as possible, so that even if this job doesn't work out, it will be far, far easier to get (and, ahem, KEEP) work in the future.
So maybe the proverbial Thai "vacation" isn't such a tiny, distant glimmer anymore. It's getting closer and closer. I can almost reach out and touch it.
I'd just lugged a hamper full of clean, dry clothes up two stories of snow-covered wooden steps at the back of the building, from the pay machines in the basement. While I struggled with keeping my increasingly baggy laundry-day jeans pulled up beneath my wool coat, a boy with long black hair looked out from just inside the apartment below us. I trudged upward, hoping my pants would not end up around my ankles right then and there, as they were trying very hard to do.
The girl stared at me, as surprised as I was. She looked me up and down. Her eyes widened slightly and she smiled.
I hadn't expected to see Milla standing there. I had just put my coat back in the closet and closed the door (which had been generally left open before I arrived) to help keep the cold out. And suddenly, there she was, staring myself in the face from out of a full-length mirror on the closet door.
And there I saw me, for the first time ever, in the flesh. No cheesy graphic manipulation, no breathy sighs regarding continued hormones and weight loss, no agonizing over upper body mass, no obsessing over which gory facial surgeries would make me self-acceptable, no disgust or bitter upset. My hair could use a little work, but y'know, it's not bad.
This time, though there weren't many of them, the tears were happy ones.
(Warning: New Doctor Who season one and two spoilers follow. No, really!)
Mike and Melissa like to get me hooked on some pretty terrific TV. Most of it's British (or animated), which is no coincidence.
The new Doctor Who series is what we're mostly watching lately. I used to watch the old series with my dad when I was but a wee tranny tot, but I was too young to understand much of it, so it never clicked, and I never started watching it again until starting the new series from episode one a few weeks ago.
In one of the earlier episodes, the doctor and his companion, Rose, meet the apparent "last pure human" some 3000 years from now. She's a transwoman (made clear by lines like "when I was a boy") who's had 700-some surgeries by now, and consists of a face and skin stretched out like a trampoline, occasionally misted with moisturizers by her assistants to keep her alive.
I had a lot of reservations about this villain-ish character, but they were misplaced.
She reappears in another episode, and after some well-written science fiction-y action and drama, the Doctor and Rose take her (now in the body of her new, dying assistant) back through time and space to a time somewhere around now, when she still appeared human (and gorgeous at that), socializing in a ritzy, upper-class nightclub.
Okay, looong setup. Anyhoo. Just after finally admitting it's time for her to pass on, and traveling to this place and time, she addresses her younger self and tells her she's beautiful. Her younger self has the same expression I would have in the same situation, with pleasant surprise and slight guilt. And I started to cry.
It was another reminder that I concentrate so much on scrubbing the boy off me (like I'm doing between paragraphs with an epilator) that I overlook the girl, both inside and out, that has already emerged.
Damn. Anyone who read the previous entry knows that that was a real meat-grinder of a week. Most of it, anyhoo.
I've digested the whole assault and evidence situations. Not that I'll ever be "over it" or thrilled about it, but the wound has healed despite the still-aching scar.
In any case, this regained calm and perspective is a lot more conducive to the most wonderful time of the year. And lemme tell ya what's already been said a million times: If there are Powers That Be, they have a brutal sense of humor.
Less than a week after dropping me into an abyss that would make Nietzsche squeal like a 5-year-old girl, and in this lovely economy, they gave Mike another job that pays even more than his previous one. He started this morning after finding out Friday, nearly doubling our income.
This, and the impending lengthy visits with my family (and then Connie) in late January, as well as the prospect of getting my car and bringing it to Chicago, has sent me into what looks very much like an upward spiral.
Suddenly, returning to school in late February and getting the job I'd like doesn't feel quite so far away
Huge thanks to Mike and Melissa, and my friends, family, and readers for supporting me through yet another roller coaster (this one called 2008). Happy holidays. =)
Unless you've been really, REALLY androgynous for most of your life, AND are happy with remaining as such after changing your label, correcting your gender or presentation is a surprisingly involved task. Let's step through a typical day in the life of Your Humble Narrator, circa August 2005.
10:00 AM. I wake up alone in bed in my Columbus, OH apartment. My roommate is at work. In my dream, I was still pretending to be male. I sit up and am reminded in several ways that I am already definitely on the bigger side of an A cup and am developing curves. Oh yeah, I'm a girl! Rock. I flip on the computer, take my hormones, check jobs, and head to my shower bath.
In the shower, as usual, I take great pains to shave my face very closely and carefully, as I can't afford electrolysis.
After drying off (and a bit of nude mirror gazing), I take 10 minutes or so to do my makeup. Concealer, foundation, mascara, lipstick. Natural colors. Shadow remains on my upper lip, even beneath my concealer. Shit.
12:00 AM. I head out the door to do a little job hunting and grocery shopping.
I wasn't passing very well yet. Even going grocery shopping seemed intimidating. Anyone who paid me any mind seemed nervous. People stared and took second glances. I just kept smiling gently and acting like a lady. (Though, I did flirt with the odd nervous male clerk. Cruel? Perhaps. But everyone needs comic relief.)
At first, this new attention seems amusing. Empowering, even. But it quickly began to wear on my psyche, and gave me a "unbelonging freak" complex. I never blended well. Familiar feelings, different reasons. At the checkout counter, everything always went wrong. But practice makes perfect. I was new at this.
To be continued...
Posted in hindsight, transition by Milla | Comments (1)
Once again, we return to Augtember Umpteenth, 2005...
5:00 PM. After coming home and eating my cheap frozen pizza, I call the temp agency I applied at a week ago. I won't name names. One of the owners had given me a weird, nervous interview. They didn't contact me for a week afterward.
"Oh, hi, Milla! Sorry, right after you applied, several of us in the office went on vacation!"
Ahh, I see. Um, you know, evidently they never did come back from vacation.
I'm glad, too.
Other than job discrimination, perhaps the biggest issue the transgendered person faces, especially early on in his/her/hir transition, is confidence. It's a bit of a duality.
You feel so wonderful and free when being yourself in public, and it feels as though the hormones (if they've been started yet) are doing amazing things to one's appearance. Although they are, you probably have a ways to go before passing as your true gender in public, no matter how girly- or manly-looking you may feel.
On the other hand, if you feel like you're being "read"-- in that you're getting funny looks, uncomfortable stares and second glances-- one commonly begins to feel far less confident. As confidence is a huge factor in passing, this can tend to put you in a negative feedback loop. Especially under the scrutiny of the checkout counter.
Posted in hindsight, transition by Milla | Comments (1)
You don't have complete "girl" status, but you're not "one of the guys" now either. As per the usual, you're sort of stuck in between with a mixed, incomplete set of gender privileges. Sometimes, especially early on, it's not uncommon to be called "dude" with a hastily (but tardily) added "-ette". At least in my generation.
It's understandable, though. Often, to friends, coworkers, and family, your transition literally feels as though the "old you" is slowly replaced by this new person they hardly know. Going through the entire grief process for the person they thought they knew is, unfortunately, the norm.
On the other hand, it's not always easy for the transwoman to relate to male friends and family as female. I find myself relating to them, again, as sort of a "dudette," not that that's what I really am, but rather because that's how we've related to each other for years and years.
It's not a huge concern, but it really can make things awkward and stilted sometimes.
I bet my FtM brothers experience the same thing in reverse, and that has to be even more difficult. Eek!
Posted in transition by Milla
Transsexualism, like other intersex conditions, is something that just happens in some sexually reproducing animals. We humans now have a more-or-less effective way of dealing with that.
But the notion of "becoming a woman" or "becoming a man" can, in various ways, lure individuals who are largely comfortable and happy with their assigned genders into transitioning. This usually pans out to be a Bad Thing for all involved.
To help prevent misguided people from doing irreversible damage to their lives and bodies via ill-advised gender transitions, there are now a number of safeguards in place. By far, the most commonly used system for safer transition is the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. The HBSoC protocol provides guidelines for therapists and gender specialists in helping patients cope.
So the network of caretakers in gender therapy have mostly mutually agreed on these guidelines. As such, surgeons and endocrinologists require written recommendation "letters" from therapists and psychologists before they will provide hormones or surgery.
The guideline for beginning hormones is a minimum of three months therapy or full-time living. My therapist also required dressing as my true gender in group, and a couple of outings in public as myself. (Which were quite interesting, hee!) One letter is required.
For surgery, two letters (or signatures) are generally required. One year of living full-time as yourself, a significant, documented amount of volunteering, employment, or schooling, and a legal name change will probably be expected by your therapist. At minimum. This is collectively known as the Real Life Test. [Your Humble Narrator will have completed this by the end of the year. She has already been living full-time for exactly one year.]
The HBSoC is not by any means a legal requirement, but to help prevent fiascoes and lawsuits, the vast majority of the trans caretaker network mutually enforces it. This is very much a Good Thing, because otherwise, there'd be a much larger number of very unhappy, litigious men with neo-vaginas about.
Posted in hormones, surgery, transition by Milla | Post a Comment?
Right. You've come out to everyone, you've got a half-decent wardrobe together, you just started hormones, and you've been out in public as yourself a few times. But still, it feels like you don't belong, people get nervous, and it's clear you're not quite ready for prime-time just yet. The reason is clear, and it's something you've dreaded ever since beginning your transition.
It's VOICE! Dun-dun-dunnnn.
FtMs, you guys are sooo lucky in this regard.
At first, the idea of using my poor testosterone-damaged vocal cords to emit an acceptably female tone was extremely intimidating. But I think I managed pretty well on my own without expensive DVDs or special training, merely by keeping a few pointers in mind and practicing non-stop. Depending on one's "natural" voice, it can be easier or more difficult to accomplish this, but the vast majority of MtF girls are capable of sounding quite convincing with enough practice. (If you can do the Monty Python old lady voice, you can do it.)
As is oft-repeated, the most important aspect of a female voice isn't pitch, or even the "singing" changes in pitch, it's resonance. The male voice sounds deep and rich largely because males are taught to reverberate their voices in their chest cavity, adding lots of harmonics. Barry White, I'm looking at you. (Mmmm-hmm.) So to project a female voice, one must find her "head voice", speaking from the head and not the chest. Talking "through the nose" can also help sometimes. All this helps produce a clearer, more feminine-sounding base tone and is the basis of most MtF voice methods.
Pitch is also important but average male and female voices really only vary about five whole steps in pitch, and getting everything else "right" will forgive a low pitch, except in extreme cases. More importantly, one should change pitch almost as if singing, and use high pitches to emphasize words while keeping a steady volume. Punching the volume of the voice and using a monotone sounds male. It's also helpful here to use the lowest falsetto you can manage.
Vowels. If you listen carefully to female speech, vowels and certain words are often pronounced differently. It's almost like a sub-accent. This has helped me out lots.
Even your choice of words can affect the perceptions of others. Although it's an aspect of society I'm none too fond of, as a lady you're expected to be less commanding, less confident, softer-spoken, gentler, and more refined. Cisgendered women can get away with "mannish" language and behavior better, but it can out a transwoman.
Female HRT won't change the voice very much. The little it does do is a result of changed muscle and skin tone, as well as the new shape of the face, neck, and chest. But it did seem easier and easier to do my new voice through continued disuse of the old one. I don't even have to think about it anymore. Surgery is available to raise the lowest pitch one can make, but problematic and risky (one could lose her voice entirely!) The method I've outlined actually sounds better, so MtF vocal surgery is very much a risky, costly last resort with current techniques.
I'd totally give MP3 examples here of the voice I used to use and the one I'm using now, or even make this a spoken-word entry, but I don't have my microphone with me here in Wisconsin. Ah well, maybe someday.
Posted in transition by Milla | Comments (3)
Appy polly logies for the lack of updates recently. If it's any consolation, I do have a large non-personal entry coming up soon. It rocks, honest!
One of the reasons for the serious lag in updates lately is that I'm simply running out of transition-related topics. Feel free to suggest them via comments or email if there's anything you're curious about. It's Ask a Tranny!
But mainly, I've had some rough emotional spots and general foot-dragging to deal with. After all, those are the perks of being a fucked-up bipolar chick who gets her sex hormones via air mail.
Speaking of which, I look pretty tonight. (Please bear with me.) I was about to brush my teeth, and my reflection in our large bathroom mirror struck me. I'm not drop-dead gorgeous, but through all the personal hubbub, sometimes I fail to even notice all the wonderful progress I make. Yes, for a girl who grew up with testes, and has only been on female HRT for a little over a year, starting at 30, I actually look pretty okay!
This sort of downtime is exactly when I lose sight of why I'm going through all this soul-rending crapola to begin with. When I'm down, frustrated, or otherwise unhappy, often I get a feeling I've come to call The Doubt.
Occasional cases of The Doubt are not at all uncommon among transfolks. One of my trans friends has reported experiencing this post-op, even. It's the strong, distressing feeling that you really belong to your assigned gender after all, that transition is futile and crazy, that one still looks very male or female.
I'll admit it: The Doubt has almost caused me to give up on transitioning a couple of times. It's such a powerful feeling that it has surely, sadly changed the minds of some otherwise newly happy, comfortable people.
Thankfully, there's also the flip-side of the coin: Certainty. I've had moments of such blaring certainty, I can end some Doubt spells just by remembering that feeling, along with my 2-year-old driver's license photo:
Yep. I'm pretty durned sure.
Posted in transition, weblog by Milla | Comments (5)
Patita Pirata asks: "Is there anything you miss about living as a man? On the flip side, what's your favorite thing about living as a woman?"
Good questions, Patita!
I don't miss much about living in the male role, but a few things were easier to deal with.
I think the thing I miss the most, and I hope it's not disappointing, was passing so flawlessly. I was ma'amed 7-8 times in my 29-year lifespan before I transitioned. That wouldn't be a great passing rate for a non-trans person, but much better than I am likely to get now, even if I "went back."
I also miss some aspects of male privilege. Yes, guys, it's very real. I had more license to act and present myself in certain ways because, after all, boys will be boys. Well... usually. I was allowed to act smarter and more confident, and customer service/tech support guys seemed more eager to please me, and more confident in the information I provided. 'Cause girls don't know nothing about boy stuff.
And then of course, being a girl is a huge pain sometimes because we're expected to put a lot more effort into our day-to-day appearances. Which leads neatly to your next question; It's actually my favorite thing at the same time!
I have to admit that my favorite thing about femalehood is appearance: body shape, clothes, jewelry, makeup. It feels a lot more natural, and it can be a lot of fun to get dolled up and go out without fear of ridicule. The clothes are far more interesting and varied, and much more comfortable usually.
Being allowed to have and show feelings is a definite plus. I'm not ridiculed when I cry. We're allowed to touch each other.
Except the occasional cattiness, women have a sort of empathy for each other I really appreciate. When I'm with other women, I don't feel like an outsider like I do with men, and I'm not automatically assumed to meet male stereotypes, especially negative ones. I can look at other girls and their clothes without them assuming I'm gawking at their figures. I feel like I belong. I can bash men. (But only in fun, guys!)
It's way easier for me to get dates, especially with boys, now.
Brights, pastels, and especially pinks are no longer a mortal sin. And there are more than 8 colors at all.
I could go on for hours about why I'm glad I'm female in umpteen-hundred ways, but those are my favorite!
Posted in ask_a_tranny, playing_boy, transition by Milla | Comments (5)
A reader (and Stumbleupon friend) recently posted kind words of support for me and the transgender community at large. Thank you, Nummy!
But actually, the common notion that MtF transitioning takes balls is misguided, and I'd like to expound. That's a pun that isn't, and while I've always felt very free to be different, I was very timid about transition in the beginning.
For most transsexual people, there just comes a time where you know it has to be done. Period. The self-imposed ultimatum of transition or suicide (which I dealt with personally!) happens too often. Having wanted this my whole life, I bawled for six hours straight, out of terror, when I decided to give in and "become" the real me. So it's not often a real choice per se, by most definitions. It's more a cross to bear.
Thankfully, people are usually much more accepting (or just plain quiet) about it than one might assume, especially when going out dressed as yourself for the first time. But it does really help to be stubborn! Most people who begin therapy, and maybe even have a brief stint on hormones, quickly learn that they don't want to transition that badly. Whether this is due more to personal error or societal pressure is hard to say.
So, yeah. I'm not brave, I'm just female enough to have to go through with it. And lucky enough to pass!
Thanks so much for your support of the transgendered. Everyone who offers it. We need all we can get!
Posted in transition by Milla | Comments (9)
Things weren't all that bad in reality, but it sure did feel like it. I couldn't really place just why.
Part of the problem was, I got depressed again. No, wait, that was the whole problem. Transgurl had run out of steam. I was still dealing with legal problems from July '05. I could have been sent back to jail for two and a half months at the drop of a hat. I was Doubt-y. And I only saw Connie a couple hours on weekdays; I was working at Goodwill for free every night because I had-ta. That last bit was the kicker.
Connie and I once volunteered a couple of Wednesdays at a different thrift store. A few of our co-volunteers made the experience less fun for us than it could have been, so we stopped going. But otherwise it helped me get out of the house, and we both love helping out folks who are even poorer than we are.
But at Goodwill, I felt like Little Miss Criminal in the Blue Criminal's Apron for Criminals or something the whole time. It might have been only my own insecurity toying with me, but only a few red-aprons interacted with me regarding anything beyond business. (And they were great folks, those non-judgmental red-aprons.)
So yeah, anyway, that's done. No more fine; I paid the community back for my crime by instead hanging up used clothes! Ah well. My probation should end very soon now, and that will make it much easier to become employed at all. Employment is good. A necessary evil at worst. It pays for hair removal. Internet. And miscellanea like rent and food.
Posted in misc, transition, weblog by Milla | Comments (3)
Today's questions come from reader Katie. She writes:
Thanks for the questions, Katie!
I'm on 2mg of estradiol valerate (Estrace) twice daily, 100 mg spironolactone (Aldactone) twice daily, and 5mg Provera in the evening. I've been on that regimen for most of my transition.
On a regimen like mine, you can probably go six to eight months before you'd have to start wearing a tight sports bra. After about a year or so, I'd reckon that people might start to wonder anyway, depending on your weight/build, style of dress, and how observant your coworkers are. I've read over and over that one can hide the effects of HRT indefinitely, but my own experience would suggest otherwise.
These are of course only guesses, as I went full-time at around 4 months on HRT. I was fairly thin then, for me (a size 14), and nobody at the musician's store I worked at suspected anything. If getting "caught" will be a problem at work, there is the option of slowing the changes by omitting meds or reducing doses. This, I'm told, won't harm the final result.
Hormones change you psychologically as well, and Provera especially can make you really PMS-y or otherwise moody and irritable, so be careful to take them exactly on time!
----
Y'know, I kind of dig being sort of a tranny agony aunt. So, whether you're just a curious bystander, thinking about MtF transition, or still in the trenches (like yours truly), don't be afraid to email me questions, or just post them as comments!
Also, I'm working hard on categories. I just kind of added them over time. But never went back and assigned them to older entries. So now I'm doing just that! Woo!
Posted in ask_a_tranny, hormones, transition by Milla
Yep, mm-hmm. Cisphobia. n. The irrational fear, loathing, or distrust of a cisgendered person or group of people.
It sounds like the latest vocabulary word over at Freeperville, but it's not. Let me explain.
Just the other night, Connie and I were doing some shopping. I paid the cashier this time. Usually, it's no more problem for me than anybody else anymore, but this time, I grew a bit nervous approaching the checkout.
Just like old times. We've been shopping at that exact Copps store on occasion since I first visited my brother here in Appleton. I didn't pass back then, and we've gone there often enough since that some employees probably know me. It was getting near closing. Three cashier/bagger ladies were sparsely congregated at the two lanes nearest the main exit, looking as if they'd been talking.
My mind begins to click and whir as I approach. This is unusual now that I pass well. Why? They must be gossiping. About what? Me, of course: I'm trans. And they know it from back then. They must have been gossiping about me. Their demeanor seemed "off" to me, especially when the other cashier picked up a can of tuna I dropped.
I talked about it with Connie out in the parking lot, mildly upset, but she'd noticed nothing strange at all.
There's a chance I was right, but that's beside the point. I jumped on these assumptions with little more solid evidence than me being transgendered.
I've noticed that I'm far from the only transperson to have this persecution complex on occasion. For example, an older trans friend of mine, who shops at the musicians' store I used to work at, was totally convinced they talked about her when she left. Once, I carefully "spied" on them for her after she left the store one time. (I wasn't out at work yet.) Not so much as a look or a peep out of anyone. I let her know it was cool, and she was visibly relieved.
Cisphobia is understandable when you consider the social climate for transpeople, even today. It's improving in most areas, but still far from friendly. Assuming everyone is trans-friendly can even be hazardous to your physical safety. But the other extreme, cisphobia, can be a trap, leading one to have feelings and suspicions that closely resemble acute paranoia.
My fellow transfolks, it's possible to be too careful, and it can damage the individual happiness and social health we've worked so hard for.
If we're not careful.
Posted in transition by Milla | Comments (3)
Unlike my previous attempt at earning a living, my employment with the thrift store is going swimmingly!
Workday seven ended at three, and I felt really good. There is considerable pressure for fast work, even for new recruits, and surprisingly, the job is so physical that I'm still feeling sore and worn. But what makes it totally worth it is the sense of accomplishment every day. (Also the cash.)
I pass well enough now that nobody on the staff, except the manager, suspects I grew up any differently. The whole gender thing has never been less of an issue! The manager doesn't pay it any mind at all, and she respects my preferred name fully, even adding it to my legal name on the time cards.
When filling out the paperwork my first day, I made sure she understood that I preferred that nobody know I'm trans, and she said she doesn't like firing people, but if anyone gives me any shit about that, they will be let go. (Just not in so many words.) Yay!
So as far as being a tranny at work goes, the situation is practically ideal. I have a very respectful, sympathetic manager, and my co-workers are unawares and as pleasant with me as anyone else. The only employee restroom is even non-gendered, despite having two stalls. Rawk.
(Besides all that, I can wear big hoop earrings, skirts/dresses, and spandex tops. And my nail polish can be as obnoxious as I want. Hee!)
This means that getting a signed note or whatever from the boss documenting that I worked a "significant" time presenting as myself (RLT requirement #2) shouldn't be difficult or awkward, and I'm concentrating on saving up for a legal name change (RLT requirement #3) as quickly as possible, so that even if this job doesn't work out, it will be far, far easier to get (and, ahem, KEEP) work in the future.
So maybe the proverbial Thai "vacation" isn't such a tiny, distant glimmer anymore. It's getting closer and closer. I can almost reach out and touch it.
Yeek, sorry for the triple pun in the title.
Posted in employment, transition by Milla | Comments (3)
The girl took me by surprise.
I'd just lugged a hamper full of clean, dry clothes up two stories of snow-covered wooden steps at the back of the building, from the pay machines in the basement. While I struggled with keeping my increasingly baggy laundry-day jeans pulled up beneath my wool coat, a boy with long black hair looked out from just inside the apartment below us. I trudged upward, hoping my pants would not end up around my ankles right then and there, as they were trying very hard to do.
The girl stared at me, as surprised as I was. She looked me up and down. Her eyes widened slightly and she smiled.
I hadn't expected to see Milla standing there. I had just put my coat back in the closet and closed the door (which had been generally left open before I arrived) to help keep the cold out. And suddenly, there she was, staring myself in the face from out of a full-length mirror on the closet door.
And there I saw me, for the first time ever, in the flesh. No cheesy graphic manipulation, no breathy sighs regarding continued hormones and weight loss, no agonizing over upper body mass, no obsessing over which gory facial surgeries would make me self-acceptable, no disgust or bitter upset. My hair could use a little work, but y'know, it's not bad.
This time, though there weren't many of them, the tears were happy ones.
Posted in misc, presentation, transition by Milla | Comments (4)
(Warning: New Doctor Who season one and two spoilers follow. No, really!)
Mike and Melissa like to get me hooked on some pretty terrific TV. Most of it's British (or animated), which is no coincidence.
The new Doctor Who series is what we're mostly watching lately. I used to watch the old series with my dad when I was but a wee tranny tot, but I was too young to understand much of it, so it never clicked, and I never started watching it again until starting the new series from episode one a few weeks ago.
In one of the earlier episodes, the doctor and his companion, Rose, meet the apparent "last pure human" some 3000 years from now. She's a transwoman (made clear by lines like "when I was a boy") who's had 700-some surgeries by now, and consists of a face and skin stretched out like a trampoline, occasionally misted with moisturizers by her assistants to keep her alive.
I had a lot of reservations about this villain-ish character, but they were misplaced.
She reappears in another episode, and after some well-written science fiction-y action and drama, the Doctor and Rose take her (now in the body of her new, dying assistant) back through time and space to a time somewhere around now, when she still appeared human (and gorgeous at that), socializing in a ritzy, upper-class nightclub.
Okay, looong setup. Anyhoo. Just after finally admitting it's time for her to pass on, and traveling to this place and time, she addresses her younger self and tells her she's beautiful. Her younger self has the same expression I would have in the same situation, with pleasant surprise and slight guilt. And I started to cry.
It was another reminder that I concentrate so much on scrubbing the boy off me (like I'm doing between paragraphs with an epilator) that I overlook the girl, both inside and out, that has already emerged.
She's beautiful, both inside and out.
And I'm still scrubbing.
Posted in epilation, hindsight, transition by Milla | Comments (1)
Damn. Anyone who read the previous entry knows that that was a real meat-grinder of a week. Most of it, anyhoo.
I've digested the whole assault and evidence situations. Not that I'll ever be "over it" or thrilled about it, but the wound has healed despite the still-aching scar.
In any case, this regained calm and perspective is a lot more conducive to the most wonderful time of the year. And lemme tell ya what's already been said a million times: If there are Powers That Be, they have a brutal sense of humor.
Less than a week after dropping me into an abyss that would make Nietzsche squeal like a 5-year-old girl, and in this lovely economy, they gave Mike another job that pays even more than his previous one. He started this morning after finding out Friday, nearly doubling our income.
This, and the impending lengthy visits with my family (and then Connie) in late January, as well as the prospect of getting my car and bringing it to Chicago, has sent me into what looks very much like an upward spiral.
Suddenly, returning to school in late February and getting the job I'd like doesn't feel quite so far away
Huge thanks to Mike and Melissa, and my friends, family, and readers for supporting me through yet another roller coaster (this one called 2008). Happy holidays. =)
Posted in GODDAMMIT, mental, misc, relationships, transition by Milla | Comments (3)