C.L. Writes: Poetry

gray, trans man's ramblings | 26 | he/his/him

[cl-writes-poetry]

Journal entry #1

I am a year and a half on testosterone.

~

I've got silly little groups of hair smattering my chin. I still smell like a teenage boy regardless of the showers, soap, deodorant, and overall, good hygiene. Acne continues to take up space on both my face and back. My voice still cracks from time to time and though I'm in my mid-20s I still get called "boy."

~

But I'm being called "boy" and respected as a peer in a male-dominated workplace (that's another journal entry for another day, being a woman (trans or cis), being an openly trans man, and being anything other than a white, cisgender, heterosexual man in STEM in the US....). The woman that took my ID last week stopped and laughed nervously at seeing a feminine name and a female gender marker. I confidently laughed, joking that a wig was all I needed to assume a new identity. Inside I prayed, I could make it a few more months until I could legal change my ID to match what people assumed.

~

Being trans and making a visible transition...it's a joy and a privilege I never knew could be mine. But while I no longer struggle with the pains of being 'in the closet,' a new set of pain, trials, and roadblocks fill my future.

~

I can only hope that one day I'll get to live as my ideal version of myself. Being able to be open and honest about my trans label without being afraid of...something else.

[cl-writes-poetry]

Sometimes...

I wish that I could be you,

Running around without a shirt,

Rolling through the grim, mud, and dirt.

~

Sometimes...

I wish I could just be new.

Not held to the standard of some god-

I'm a long-haired, fair-skinned, gentle-hearted facade.

~

Sometimes...

If I had the choice,

I'd be my brother and not my sister,

Not a pock to be hidden, not a family blister.

~

Sometimes...

When I find my voice,

I wish I had be born a boy

So the world was mine to enjoy.

[cl-writes-poetry]

~Becoming Me~

When I hear that name,

the one that was gifted to me,

I can't help but see...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The little girl,

but not quite.

The obedient daughter,

but that's not right.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The core of a boy

wrapped in something womanish--

Something vaguely promised.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

My voice is changed.

My skin is acne marked.

My chest is compressed.

My masculinity is sparked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Yes, when I hear that name,

I think of who I used be

that allowed myself to become me.

[cl-writes-poetry]

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 4]

And finally we've made it to the point where I have pulled my head out of my ass.

Shortly after my last child was born, I was lost. The body that carried and nourished my children was the source of pain and loss for me. While I appreciated having a body that allowed me to carry my own children, I wanted to crawl out of my skin. All the things I hated were accentuated and changed. People touched me, people cooed over what a wonderful mother I would be and am, doctors dismissed concerns with a condescending little speech about expectant mothers worrying over every little twinge. I didn't have bodily autonomy which exaserbated my sense of separation from the body I saw in the mirror.

And so I researched and self-reflected and researched more and reflected deeper once again. I'll spare you the details of pretending I was a man online and asking trusted friends to call me "Bro" and "handsome" and "he/him." But at the end of 4 long weeks, I couldn't deny it and I finally saw myself. I looked in the mirror and said, "CL, that's us, that's me. I'm a man." I COULD SEE ME. I was looking at someone I didn't recognize, I didn't focus in on different features rather than looking at myself as a whole. And most of all, I stopped stressing about labels and gender identity and was finally content.

Until I needed to break the news and I was back to being ruled by fear and shame and guilt. I've been with my husband now almost a decade. How could I break the heart of my cisgender, heterosexual husband who is my best friend, my hero, my partner? How do I explain it to my young children? I can talk about these conversations if anyone is interested, but the outcome was overwhelmingly positive.

My husband and I know that we may not stay married forever, but we enjoy each other's company. We still love each other. He's been my biggest ally and warrior. He believed me when I said I was a man and pushed me to pursue the gender affirming care that I need. We will communicate as things come up and know that he may always love me, but it doesn't guarantee the attraction will always be there. Because I may be a gay, trans man, but he is still a cishet man.

So here's to me and 1 year of claiming my label and finally being content.

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 1] As someone who was raised in a conservat

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 2] About three years into unlearning the bi

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 3] And so, I lived on. I changed my pronoun

[cl-writes-poetry]

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 2]

About three years into unlearning the bigotry I was raised with, something within me broke. I had long since learned the nuances of gender, gender identity, sex, and sexual orientation.

But I continued to find support with in the bi/pan community. In an post that was very vulnerable and VERY uncomfortable for me, I broke down. I still didn't feel like myself. The physical changes (cutting my hair into a masc cut, purging my closet to fill with more masculine and gender neutral options, etc.) still didn't make me feel whole. Claiming the bisexual label still didn't make me feel whole. I was lost and spiraling.

The comments and love I received--it's was an undescribable feeling of support. People saying that maybe I was only attracted to women and I was clutching the bi label with all my might because I was married to a man and I didn't want to hurt him. People recommending therapy and things that helped them understand themselves. But one person asked if I'd ever thought about my gender identity. I remember laughing to myself, saying, "Nah, I couldn't be a man. I think I would have notice by now." Spoiler alert: I indeed was a man and had not noticed it yet.

But maybe they were onto something. So I researched and I self-reflected and I researched and I self-reflected some more. Until I finally found another label that again mostly fit my lived experiences, my feelings, my discomforts, my needs.

That's it! I was non-binary, but not trans. I can't tell you what my logic was for shying away from the trans label, but I can tell you want my claim was rooted in.

Fear. Internalized transphobia. Guilt. Anger.

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 1] As someone who was raised in a conservat

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 3] And so, I lived on. I changed my pronoun

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 4] And finally we've made it to the point w

[cl-writes-poetry]

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 1]

As someone who was raised in a conservative, Southern Baptist house, I didn't know that being trans was a thing that existed. I didn't know that there were words to describe my lived experience.

I just thought I was a little (okay, very, very, very) weird.

I just thought that every teenage girl going through puberty hated their bodies to the point of adopting unhealthy habits and praying for a reason to have a chest reduction.

I didn't know that other girls weren't attached to their newfound body hair. I didn't know other girls didn't cry when they were told to shave their legs, armpits, and beyond.

But most of all, I didn't know that I wasn't unique--some outlier God messed up.

So I grew up, married my high school sweetheart and started a family. Because that's what my role in life was as modeled to me through a dysfunctional egg donor.

But the feelings of discomfort and self-hate and shame and guilt couldn't stay locked away.

When I looked in the mirror, I didn't know who or what I was looking at. I COULDN'T SEE my reflection as a whole human being. Like my eyes wouldn't focus on the creature staring right back at me.

And so I finally began to unlearn the habits and guilt and beliefs that I carried with me even though I left the church at 16. Through that I discovered the LGBTQIA+ community. I already knew their were gay people and lesbians and people with other 'alternative' lifestyles, and I thought, "Aha, I must be bisexual because I feel split." I know, I know, I was very wrong, but my mind wasn't ready to explore the T in LGBT. My mind took what I felt and grabbed the first label that sorta fit all the feelings and experiences I had. The one that would give me a community because while I didn't fully understand, I knew that there was something there for me.

Nevertheless, I set out to be the best ally I could be to the trans community. The statistics I read broke my heart and I wanted to do what I could to protect my trans and gender nonconforming siblings.

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 2] About three years into unlearning the bi

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 3] And so, I lived on. I changed my pronoun

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 4] And finally we've made it to the point w

[cl-writes-poetry]

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 3]

And so, I lived on. I changed my pronouns, started going by a nickname, bought a binder, reassured my husband that this didn't change anything besides some language and my looks. I didn't want to transition, I was still okay with being 'mom' to our kids.

I still wasn't whole.

You see, being non-binary, gender nonconforming, or anything outside of a binary gender is valid and beautiful and so empowering. But it wasn't me.

I didn't let myself think I could be a binary trans man. I put up an unconscious mental block to prevent myself from even considering the fact that I was more.

My reasons?

Fear: I told myself being anything more than nonbinary would radically impact my family. I could lose the love of my life, the man who has stuck with me though everything. The man who helped me grow and unlearn my bigotry and hate. The man who took me in when I was kicked out of my home at 17. The man who stepped up to the plate when the burdern of life was too much for me. The man who loves our babies with such intention and support and care. I would break my home.

Internalized transphobia: I will use transphobia as a blanket term here for both transgender and gender nonconforming bigotry. Because of my fear, I thought it was just enough to accept that I had a mismatch between the way I was raised and who I was. I treated being gender nonconforming as the easy option, as "woman-lite." While I never put words to those thoughts, I allowed them reshape my view of nonbinary/GNC people and I will be forever sorry for my harmful views.

Shame, Guilt, and Anger: I was ashamed of misleading my husband, guilt-ridden about needing to be me, and angry that I didn't know. Anger that my exposure to the real world which includes trans and GNC people. These feelings play off of each other and build until they bubble over into everything that I do.

For a year and a half, I lived as a nonbinary person and while I was closer to the label I needed to describe myself and make sense of my life, I still wasn't happy and whole.

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 1] As someone who was raised in a conservat

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 2] About three years into unlearning the bi

Coming to terms with your trans-ness isn't linear, and it doesn't make you any less valid. [Part 4] And finally we've made it to the point w

[cl-writes-poetry]

Knowing who I am

and being that person

are two completely disjointed,

Indescribable acts.

Being who I am

requires a new dawn

Where I wake up feeling

I'm everything that lacks.

Knowing is just contraband

That I don't want to get caught with.

Knowing is scary and

heartbreak and discomfort.

And as I become me,

the acts become less stiff.

I become somebody who

nobody can...judge or hurt.

When the acts start to reconcile,

converge and simplify.

I find contentment in

Knowing I am exactly who I am supposed to be.

[cl-writes-poetry]

I started T 6 months ago

Driving to my appointment today, my dad called me.

I wanted to tell him that it's my 1/2 year anniversary of becoming me and I wanted him to be happy for me. I wanted to tell him that I found a surgeon and that my mustache is coming in.

I wanted to laugh with him about my late puberty and pimple spotted face. I wanted to gripe about the poor quality of my new binder and how trans tape doesn't do anything for dense tissue.

You know, if anyone else treated me like he treats me, I would have dropkicked them out of my life faster than they could blink. Is it so wrong that I want the person who was my best friend, hero, and biggest motivator growing up to accept me?

But I sat there, trying to talk about anything else. He could hear that I was avoiding something as I hid 2000 miles away behind a phone screen. He asked if I was feeling okay and if anything was draining me.

It makes me feel better to let him worry about me than to make him mad at me. Maybe it makes me a dick and maybe it's kinder to both of us if I just stop trying to keep a relationship going, but christ, I just want my dad to accept me.

[cl-writes-poetry]

Top Surgery: A Haiku

I need you to cut

my chest deep and make me free

lest I lose myself

[auvtre]

david, commission. 2019

i am aware that this piece of mine has been re-posted a thousand times, but now you can re-blog it from the original artist! :~D

edit: since people asked you can now get a print of this here!