Tag Archives: transsexual

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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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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trans talk

I don’t want you to be a transsexual, dammit.

I don't want you to be a transsexual, dammit

Why can’t you just be a crossdresser?

I notice that soon after coming out as a crossdresser, my boyfriend is reading everything he can by and about transsexuals.  Did I bring that on by asking if his transgendered self stopped at crossdressing?  I’m not ready to deal with the huge adjustment that his being a transsexual would require.  And then there’s my gut, my ever-reliant intuition telling me that his coming out isn’t over.  Waiting to hear what seems to be the inevitable is HARD.  Also, I’m incredibly impatient.  If it’s news that will greatly impact me and change our relationship forever, I wanted to know yesterday, damn it.  So I push the question; I ask him with increasing frequency if he’s sure he’s not a transsexual even though my wiser self knows that I’m not ready to truly deal with his answer.

My brain is so mad at me:
Why can’t you just enjoy what might be the last moments of your hetero relationship as you know it?

Because knowing it could be the last makes it impossible for me to enjoy.
And I’d rather know now so I can start dealing.
And it’s already different…just anticipating how different it will be.

How about giving him the time he needs because it’s not all about you?

Fine, yes, I get that.  But this waiting is TORTURE.

And I am so. fucking. torn.  I  waver between being his supportive best friend and the girlfriend desperately trying to be okay with her boyfriend’s probable true coming out. Aside from the bottom dropping out of any future expectations of our relationship, the countdown is seriously upon us before Tokyo take-off.  My brain is quickly, quickly, not quickly enough trying to sort it out.  We have to sell off and pack up our American lives in less than six months, my boyfriend is talking all sorts of transgender, cisgender (which I apparently am 100%), agender, bigender, genderqueer, crossdresser vs. transvestite vs. transsexual and I’m…waiting, still waiting.

And then one day…
Rumi, I think I want to take hormones.
I’m a transsexual.

Of course you are, love.
And then I start to cry.

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relationshipping, trans talk

I thought my lesbian period was over.

I thought my lesbian period was over

Then my boyfriend came out of his transsexual closet, showcasing so many pairs of stilettos, giving my heels-wearing self a run for my money.  Hmm…so you want to be a woman.  And you want to stay with me.  AND we’re moving to fucking Tokyo in like, five months.

Okay…actually, NOT okay.

He came out as a transsexual around March 2012 and we were set to move that August. We’d been planning the move for a year, by the way.

I’m intellectually supportive, emotionally wrecked.  My former lesbian self, chock full of rainbow pride and many collegiate LGBTQ/marginalized peoples classes is incredibly proud of his courage to come out, to be who he needs to be.  My current self- his girlfriend- is shocked.  I’m already in shifted identity crisis: my stomach is in free-fall and my heart is cracking, bleeding, crying.  This might sound melodramatic but the thing is, I’m a supreme realist.  I didn’t know exactly what would happen but I knew his coming out would involve a future of constant change and adjustment.  And as much as I love a grand adventure, I prefer my romantic relationships on the un-rocky side; we all know that life deals enough challenges, no?

So I grieved the end of our two-year relationship as I knew it.  DAMN.  That really sucked as it was an awesome two years.

And here we are, in Tokyo, girlfriend and girlfriend.

After some reflection, recording the constant and hilarious assortment of cultural, relationship and sexual identity changes and hijinks seems the path of least regret.  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a run-on story about a transsexual in transition and her moody girlfriend moving across the globe whilst learning Japanese, finding employment, eating the crap out of Japanese food etc. etc.?

We sure as hell jumped and she was right…the net appeared.

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