Author Archives: rumibean

about Japan

Women shave what in Tokyo?

Let's get it straight

Their faces.  Their arms.  On the regular.

It’s true.  It’s culturally unattractive to have hairy arms (meaning any hair) and anything less than smooth-as-whipped-butter faces (read: shaved, exfoliated and perfectly moisturized).  I’ve shaved my face before (what?  I was curious, I try shit out and there are special teeny, tiny razors specifically for this purpose, in an array of pretty pastel colors) but I haven’t done it since moving here because I’m lazy.  

Actually I’m not lazy but Tokyoites will absofuckinglutely deem you lazy if you don’t wear makeup.  Believe.  Like, don’t subject the general public to your unmade-up face.  You’re not even going to make the effort to look like you put forth an effort?  How rude.  My American mindset thinks, jeez, judgmental much?  But here, it’s viewed as having consideration for others; make like you give a shit, don’t make it hurtful for others to look at you because they have to look at you.  Thirteen million or so of you.  Everyday.  So, shaving your face and arms is part of the cultural ideal for a Japanese woman.

GF told me I should try shaving my arms (of course she would and thus keeps proving how much more with it she is at being a woman than my bio-femme ass).
Her: It’s not going to grow back hairier.
Me: I don’t know…
Her: Trust me, you’ll like how it feels.
Me: But it seems like more maintenance that I’m not sure I want to commit to.
Her: By the way, women here are not as hairless as you think they are.
Me: What are you talking about?  They so are.
Her: No. They’re not.  I saw a woman on the train today who had leg hair matted down by nude hose.  In fact that’s why so many woman wear nude hose (with sandals, by the way, which is a pet peeve of mine), to hide their hairy legs.
Me: Seriously?  I thought it was because it’s considered a tad indecent to bare your legs.

Oh Japan, yet another cultural aspect that I don’t understand…hose in the hot-and-humid-as-fuck summer to cover beast legs coupled with meticulously shaved faces and arms, arms that are covered with anti-UV ray arm warmers, by the way.

Oh, and the perfectly made-up faces?  The makeup itself might be questionable but the skin?  Fucking astoudingly beautimous.  Like the stereotype.  Like porcelain.

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trans talk

Hormonal hesitation

hormonal hesitation

is on my mind.

I often worry about the effects of the hormones GF’s taking.  We both think about her mones a lot but in different ways.

Her: I think my breasts stopped growing.  I’m definitely going to need surgery.
Me: I thought you said they weren’t finished?  And I thought I was impatient.
Her: They’re not growing as much these days.
Me: Didn’t you up your hormones?
Her: Yeah.
Me: Wait, did you up them again?  I have learned that when GF is down about the rate of her physical transition it’s because she’s increased her dosage and she’s not seeing results on the immediate enough.
Her: Yeah…a couple weeks ago.  Don’t worry, remember they started me on such a low dose that I can take a much higher dose and be okay, especially compared to the amounts my friends have been taking for years.
Me: …okaaay.  Of course I’m worried; hormones are fucking powerful and worrisome.  

a few hours later…
**CRASH**
What the hell was that?!  Except I’m on a damn Skype work call so I can’t check to see what broken mess awaits me in the bedroom.

A couple hours later, post-Skype sesh, GF asks if I heard the crash?
Me: Uh, yeah, kinda hard to miss; what was that?
Her: Oh, I passed out and fell into the mannequin which crashed into the clothes rack against the window.
Me: Jesus Christ, are you okay?!  How are you always so casual about these things?
Her: I’m okay but I wondered why you didn’t come in here when I fell.
Me: I was on stupid Skype for work.  Is it because you upped your hormones?  I’m not scapegoating her hormones but surely it’s no coincidence that she started feeling faint when she had been on them for a couple months…and passing out has become more constant as she has increased her dose.
Her: I don’t know why I did, you know it’s been happening for a while now.  It could be any number of things.
Me: Maybe cut down on the cigarettes?  I don’t think they help.  Quitting hormones is out of the question and she will never attribute her passing out to them but I do want her to quit smoking.  She knows this.  I believe there’s a link between the cigarettes, hormones and passing out**.

Oh hormones, such necessary but troublesome little fuckers.

**My dumb ass didn’t realize that a BIG part of why she passed out was because she was fasting.  Yeah, fasting for days on end and passing out = correlation?  Duh.

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about Japan

The H in HMU

the H in HMU

is crucial.

I maintain that awesome hair is the best accessory and girlfriend can back me on this.  I had some serious anxiety about finding a stylist in Tokyo; we both fretted over finding stylists for two very different and valid reasons.

Me: I had a superstylist in the States, someone who instinctively knew what avant-garde-ish cut I wanted before I did, got what looked best on me and steered me clear of potential regrets.  Asymmetry? Duh.  Supershort bangs? Um, no.  Really? They look so damn cute on everyone!  Yeah…I’m not doing that on you.  Ducktail mullet? Yea!  Fauxhawk? NO. Seriously, NO.

Her: Having naturally curly hair looks awesome but can be devastatingly difficult to maintain, especially when you’re transitioning and you’re getting your first proper lady cut in a city where 98% of the population has thick, stick-straight, coarse hair and we’re about to enter the rainy (Most. Humid. Climate. Ever.) season.

Well, this isn’t one of the most stylish cities in the world for no reason.
Thank god.
I asked a very cool chick with a damn fine cut where she suggest I go…and that’s how I found my Perfect-san.  I thought I went wrong at the first salon because I didn’t have images to show the stylist so I loaded my iDevice, only to have superpro guru say, “Why don’t you leave it up to me?”  Hell. Yes.  Thank you, immense relief and yes please.  I now feel very spoiled because I don’t have to do any pre-salon thinking and I walk out every time feeling like a badass beauty because he guarantees “you’re going to look fucking rad today” (except it’s in Japanese, which sounds even cooler) and his word is GOOD.

For GF, we investigated salons that specialize in curly hair (because they have those here) and she chose one that gave her good vibrations.  Her person turned out such beautiful results, not only were GF’s curls perfectly loosely ringlet-ed and cool bob perfect for her face, her new ‘do really upped her transition process a lot, like multiple magic mushroom level-ups.

So, Tokyo salons?  They fucking rock.  Do they cost more?  Of course but holy shit, it’s so full service that I get antsy, like: Can this be over yet?  How much longer are they going to massage me?  Do they really need to shampoo me again?…Because I’m that kind of grateful.

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trans talk

Let’s talk HMU

Let's talk HMU

Hair and makeup, oh my.
I thought I was into hair and makeup.
Until my girlfriend. She fucking loves makeup.
I realize now that I like what I like, namely highly pigmented lip pencils (thank you, NARS) and colorful eyeliners (M.A.C.=awesome) but for my newbie transsexual, it’s a glorious candyland of glittery, shimmery, matte, scented, deeply pigmented F-U-N.  And though it’s always a good time to look through the aisles at Sephora, I’m experiencing it through the eyes of a teenager who has been let loose in the most fun candy store yet, meaning it’s completely endearing but a tad exhausting- literally.  I cannot remember the last time I looked through almost every makeup brand’s products.

I say, get a bunch of different things; you just have to try it out to see what works.
Trial and error, much?  And her skin tone and features are so different from mine that we will not be sharing products.  But not sharing is okay as I like to keep a certain order to my things and she is a veritable tornado.

So as she is getting into her makeup routine, this is how our mornings go:
Me: I think I’m wearing too much eyeliner.
Her: That’s just because you can actually tell that you’re wearing makeup.  You’re just not used to it.
Me: I can feel the weight of the mascara though, like every time I blink.
Her: Look, the thing with mascara is you put on more than you think you need then add two more coats.
Me: Hmm…so it’s like lube (when you think it’s too much, it’s almost enough?).  I don’t think you’re taking into account how different our features are; your eyes can take twenty pounds of mascara and look natural (hmm…I might be a little J about this).
Her: No, it’s that when you wear makeup you can barely tell you have it on.  And you still haven’t answered me; how do I look?  She’s telling me this when she’s only been using the shit for, like, a week?
Me: You look good; wait, close your eyes…maybe smudge your right eye shadow more, but it only looks uneven when your eyes are closed and I’m really close to your face which means no one else will notice.

Welcome to another new chapter in transsexual adjustment.
The vanity is way more crowded but I kinda like it.

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about Japan

Is it legal?

Is it legal

Prostitution, that is.  In Japan.

Well…yes and no.  Such a typically Japanese answer, meaning one that begs clarification, especially for the individuals who have asked this question upon my moving to Tokyo.

Ok, here’s the breakdown:
If you are one of the few houses that were granted a special certificate from the government waaay back when (serious generations ago), then you are legal to offer coitus, which is the one act that is deemed illegal in Japan.  No new certificates have been issued since said way back when and these establishments are serious family businesses.  Even people who have prominent and demanding careers will maintain the family business (oh the ¥ value); for example, the individual conducting obligatory new prostitute interviews at night might very well be an accomplished engineer/researcher/doctor by day.

If you are not fortunate enough to have one of the carte blanche certificates then your employees are legally allowed to provide any service other than coitus…which is a considerable number of acts and scenarios.

How strictly is the law enforced?
Depends on the establishment, who owns it, location, what ties they have to the Yakuza and where those ties fall on the hierarchy.  Suffice it to say many a blind eye is turned.

And the available channels for service is pretty astonishing: soaplands (think waterproof mattresses and lube), fashion health massage parlors, health delivery services (seriously convenient), pinsaros (or pink salons, oral specialists), imekuras (image clubs where costumed fantasies are let loose) and so on…Tokyoites and tourists love their kink.

Speaking of tourists, here’s a recent article from The Tokyo Reporter about some complaints among Tokyo prostitutes.

It’s very interesting stuff, the multitude of articles and media coverage that arise when prostitution is mostly legal.  I certainly appreciate the bit of informative light that gets shone on this facet of Japan…very different attitude and tone from the American news (or non-news, I should say) regarding this subject.

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trans talk

The thing about parents

The thing about parents

is that they are so predictably unpredictable.

Take, for instance, the coming out experience.
My girlfriend, who was only ever referred to as my boyfriend to my parents, was slated to meet them for the first time as we were leaving the country.  L.A. was our hello-goodbye pit-stop before our one-way flight to Tokyo.  Because my girlfriend was newly into her transition and she felt weird about the whole, “Nice to meet you, I’m actually a transsexual, please use my new name with correct pronoun as your daughter and I are moving halfway across the globe in six days” introduction, we decided to skip her coming out to my parents.

Oh parents…I suppose I wanted to keep this pre-move visit simple.  After all, I am that person who came out to them during a rare winter vacation stay, on Christmas Eve, many years ago when I was in a lesbian relationship.  Well, impulsively coming out to one’s not-so-socially-liberal family after holiday dinner probably wasn’t the smartest thing, especially regarding the crossroads of my expectations and their reactions.

My father: That’s abnormal, immediately followed by his leaving the dinner table and heading upstairs.  Case closed, i.e. I am not talking about this, i.e. if I ignore this it will go away?  This non-acknowledgement continued for quite a few years.
My mother: I always suspected something like this was happening (really?!).  Why didn’t you talk about this sooner? (hmm…maybe for the same reason that you couldn’t bring it up as well?).  Well, you really shouldn’t rush into anything (ok, duly noted).

After that long-term relationship ended, my mother had this to say: I always had doubts, felt you were unhappy and knew it wasn’t going to last (awesome, appreciate the honesty after the fact).

Fast forward to October 2012, we’ve been in Tokyo for a couple months and I (with the help of omnipresent Facebook) decide it’s time to have the my BF is a transsexual talk. My mother doesn’t take the news so well; I am informed via email that she needs to stop communicating with me until she has finished processing and please don’t tell your father about this.  Okay…

A few months after that, my mother started emailing me again, noticeably excluding the girlfriend from all conversations and I figure my dad is still none the wiser.

Oh, the parentals.

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relationshipping

No expectations after two years

No expectations after two years

is really fucking weird and hard.

But it’s the free-fall state that I have to be at peace with to give this new relationship a fair shot.
We have to start over.  Not in a hello-nice-to-meet-you-I’m-your-transsexual-girlfriend-and-we-have-no-history kind of way but in a she’s forging her identity anew so I cannot drag expectations I had of him into this new partnership.  It’s really strange to think that just six months ago I was thinking…maybe marriage?!

And now…one day at a time, sometimes it’s one hour at a time, especially when the future feels like the biggest unknown as I’m adjusting to her mannerisms, make-up, clothes, shoes- god the pairs of shoes this woman needs in her life.

I feel very challenged.  And usually I like a challenge but I wonder how successfully I can tough out a relationship where forget the tables being turned, I’m trying to order my entire house post-identity-awakening relationship earthquake.  I tell myself we can do it, nothing’s truly broken, just shaken up and I’m feeling freshly topsy-turvy on the inside because I’m not settled into her yet, i.e. there’s too much of him in my head-space still.  I have to hold strong and believe in an us because she’s not all that changed, other than being free to be herself for the first time in her life (which makes me sincerely and tremendously happy for her) and, right, we’re still doing an international move in less than six months.

Of course I have my moments of doubt: what the hell are we getting ourselves into, will it be too much change- her transitioning, finding a place to live, getting a job, who will prescribe her hormones in Japan, will she be able to find a supportive community, which neighborhood do I want to live in, um…how the fuck do I figure this shit out:
tokyo-subway-map

But I wanted an adventure and I’m sure as heck in the craziest one yet…laughing and crying with gratitude and wonderment for some more of life’s many, many surprises.

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about Japan, trans talk

The thing about Tokyo…

The thing about Tokyo

…most people don’t give a fuck.

It’s been awesome to witness the acceptance and encouragement a transsexual in transition is given in this crazy, crowded megalopolis.  Transition ain’t easy; in fact, it may be the most difficult (and defeating at moments) experience I have observed in this life.
And I am so glad that she is able to do it in Tokyo.

Tokyoites (mostly) not giving a rude fuck about someone in transition isn’t why we chose to move here but it is a decided perk.  It’s a strange and beautiful thing that the inhabitants of this city can be so conformist yet respectful of an individual’s self-expression.  Yes, there is a massive sea of businessmen and office ladies in their requisite suits and skirt-suits with black pumps, respectively, but behind those 9-5 (attached with massive overtime) outfits are characters who let all kinds of freaky flags fly into the wee hours, or not.  Point being that people here recognize and respect that everyone is multidimensional and who are they to judge?  Not only are there all kinds of daily queer sightings, gender-bending has always been a part of popular culture here, from the historic Noh theater to the beloved transsexuals on popular variety shows to the crossdressers in the cosplay neighborhood of the anime capital of the world.  In the states, especially in the South where we were living, there is no way she would have gotten the support she currently receives from her university peers, faculty and administration whilst transitioning. Just the other week, a very concerned teacher called twice, left a voice-mail and texted because she realized she had unintentionally hurt my girlfriend’s feelings and wanted to remedy the hurt and misunderstanding ASAP…that’s the thing about Tokyo.

I’m not saying that people can’t be hurtful with their stares or what might be downright dirty looks, even, but that’s as bad as it has been thus far.  No slurs, no bullying, no discrimination and certainly no acts of violence for crossing genders.

Tokyoites really embrace one of my golden rules:
As long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else, do what you want.

And that’s pretty damn cool.

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relationshipping, trans talk

HOW can you think you will stay the same?

HOW can you think it will stay the same

It goes against all my logic.
I WANT to believe him when he says he’ll be the same on the inside.  I want this to be true because my insides are still blown away by his coming out and I’m actively processing at seemingly every moment, asking questions like: how much are things going to change, what will he look like, what will his transition entail (are there surgeries in the future- how many?), how long will it take for him to be happy, the list goes on.  At this point it’s been a couple months at most since he’s come out to me.  I’m still in love with him and if he’s right- that who he is on the inside will stay the same- then there’s a chance we can stay together…right?

Except:
I don’t know how he can stay the same.
The argument he presents is that he’ll still like the same things, treat me the same, have the same sense of humor etc.
I can see his perspective but- BIG but- what about all the external changes that will inevitably affect his identity and personality…who he is, in essence?
For instance, I don’t see his wanting to do things like picking me up off the ground in a big bear hug, slinging me over his shoulder, and swinging me around as I protest, kicking and screaming.  I’m already missing his manhandling me in the future.  I don’t want his new feminine identity to have to take a backseat because he knows that I want, possibly need, these very masculine acts of ownership in a relationship.
I wonder what will happen to us as our individual needs and wants seem headed toward irreconcilable differences.

And…

What if:
I become unattracted to her because she will, slowly but surely, no longer resemble the man who made my heart skip a beat?  I’m already grieving the future loss of sideburns, chest hair, lean but really strong arms and him in a simple white t-shirt and black hi-tops. This list of desirable traits lost will grow as time passes and whether my attraction takes an undeniable nosedive in relation to it remains to be seen.  Thinking about the future, this uncertainty scares me because sexual attraction doesn’t lie and its absence won’t be ignored.

Yeah…so my future holds potential personality changes and shifts in sexual attraction…all very straightforward and complicated.

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trans talk

Who are you calling a tranny?!

Who are you calling a tranny

Seriously, I can’t refer to a transsexual as a tranny on my blog when you call yourself that?!  And more importantly, we have the kind of relationship that deflates disparaging remarks by using them in good fun.

Rumi, that’s between us.  You know it’s a negative term, right?

Yesss…but I mean it with love and affection, not pejoratively.

Right, but I wouldn’t post that on a blog.  You’re basically enabling ignorant people to use ‘tranny’ without their giving a second thought to its rude and demeaning nature.

So, you really think I shouldn’t use that word in my blog even though:
1) I feel it goes against my personality and the way I naturally express myself and
2) I highly doubt ignorant fools are going to spend their time on my blog

I’m not going to tell you what to do but it’s the one thing I find contentious in your blog; you asked for my opinion.

*Sigh*

I understand her point even though responsible honesty feels like a gross oxymoron to me at the moment.  But my being misunderstood by the general public as a proponent of a degrading and hurtful slur makes me feel sufficiently sick on the inside to quickly abandon the need to express my ‘humorous’ personality in this vein.  So aside from this post, I will happily abandon my crass usage of the word tranny, insisting instead on the much more proper and respectful transsexual.

At least until our society gets with it enough to where I can let my dark humor go uncensored without the endearment behind it getting lost.

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