#trans discovery

[thatonedepressedtypo]

So, uh, I'm a boy.

That feeling I had towards Hunter from TOH was gender envy. That time I was mistaken for a boy and it felt amazing was euphoria. I felt guilty about the idea of being a boy because of what men are known for so I called myself non-binary in my head and I thought that would be enough. But it wasn't and it never will be.

Anyway I bring you this news listening to Ego Renegade Boy on loop in the middle of the night. Possibly the most trans thing I've ever done. Seeya.

[thedistantstarsawaiting]

Y'all wanna hear a little drabble from one of my OCs backstories?

Of course you do. *Hands it to you on a silver platter*

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf

The little kid buried their face in their tail. “They say I'm Emma...but I'm not Emma...Emma isn't right...I'm not a girl.” They looked up at Soap and Price. “I don't understand...” they whimpered, their ears flattening.

Soap hummed softly, kneeling in front of the small child. “Well, people feel like that sometimes.” He gently reached out and tilted their chin up. “What are you then, if not a girl?”

The kid made a sound like a curious wolf. “Um...boy. I'm a boy.” He said, nodding confidently.

Price smiled. “Alright then, little man. If you say you're a boy, you're a boy.” he said.

The boy nodded. “I wanna be like that really cool guy I see in one of the handlers offices, on the wall picture! He holds a lightning bolt and he looks super cool!” The boy sighed, almost wistfully. “I bet he wouldn't let these mean people hurt him...”

Ghost spoke up from where he was sitting in the corner of the helo. “Does he happen to be a god?” He asked, his voice light and soft.

The little boy looked up. “Uhhh...yeah! I asked the handler about him once! She said he was a Greek god, but wouldn't tell me more than that...” He whined sadly.

Ghost chuckled. “That sounds like Zeus, King of the Gods, God of the Sky, and Ruler of Mount Olympos.” He said, and watched the boy's face light up.

“Wait, that's so cool!” The boy said, his tail beginning to wag. “Is he super strong?”

“The strongest.” Ghost confirmed, glad to have brought a genuine smile to this boy's face.

Then, the boy tilted his head. “Can I use that?” He asked.

“Use what?” Ghost asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“The name.” The boy stated. “Zeus...feels right, if that makes sense. Do you think Zeus will be mad if I use his name?”

Soap chuckled. “I think he'd be flattered. Besides, if the name feels right, no one can tell you not to name yourself that.”

The boy's eyes lit up and his face morphed into the biggest grin they'd seen on him yet. “Then hi! I'm Zeus!”

[cylindersaint]

LONG POST

This rant is gonna be a huge jumbled mess, just bare with me here.

I’ve ALWAYS been dysphoric and never had the language or the understanding to express it. I would look at my body and get the same feeling as looking at someone else. It wasn’t right and I didn’t have the perspective to realize that having those dislocated feelings weren’t normal. Sometimes it would spike into full-blown panic and depression, but usually it was just, “This isn’t mine,” along with a feeling of dissociation.

The only lense I had to see this through was the one I was given and forced to adhere to- feminine. I was told, “you’re body is beautiful” and, “you should be proud of those hips!” And, “ don’t worry you aren’t flat!” So many times by female relatives and even some friends that I miss placed those dysphoric feelings into dysMORPHIC feelings. And those are two totally different things!

I was welcomed into the cult of self-critiquing like it was a right of passage. I was taught (and forced myself to learn) this strange code-switching for feminine body language.

The most extreme moment was when a whole group of girls flocked to me to coo pitifully when they realized I didn’t know how to dance with my hips.

It’s fucking humiliating when the only group that will take you treats you like a baby learning to walk for the first time. Even more-so than just being rejected altogether (at least for me)

So when I finally discovered transgender identities, and found myself questioning, it wasn’t a relief or even an “aha!” moment. I had all of these feminine qualities I had learned, all of these ways with dealing with the world vs how I acted alone, and still felt like I wasn’t right for any community.

It was a very scary feeling. I didn’t think I could talk to anyone about it- not even my trans friends. I thought I was being stupid for being so confused. I remember feeling this huge difference between how I felt inside and how I acted/dressed/spoke. And I thought that disparity was because I was inherently wrong.

Then I discovered all of the self-identifiers here on tumblr, and tried to solve my problem with those. I started categorizing my BEHAVIOR as my gender, and not how I really felt beneath it all. I completely looked over my dysphoria because I had already “normalized” that through a feminized perpective.

I didn’t realize how much it was hurting me. I also didn’t realize how much I needed this exploration.

My coming out here is actually my second time to do so. The first time I tried to come out as trans (I was 15 I believe) was labeled as “trauma induced” and so I quickly hid back in my closet, absolutely ashamed.

In the present, I’m finally learning to accept who I am, and I finally felt the surprise of seeing MYSELF in the mirror for the first time.

I guess the TLDR of this would be, “language around gender fucking matters and it took me 23 years to figure that out”

[keeperofwhisperingmoons]

Becoming, Part 1.

I don’t think I grew up feeling like “a girl.”

But I also didn’t grow up thinking deeply about gender at all.

I was just… me.

As a kid, I existed pretty comfortably in that space until other people started trying to define me more loudly than I defined myself. And I think public school was where I first really became aware of that divide.

Suddenly there were rules.

Expectations.

Categories that apparently mattered very much to everyone else.

And I remember being strangely happy anytime someone couldn’t immediately tell whether I was a boy or a girl.

Not offended.

Not embarrassed.

Just quietly happy.

Though even then, part of me wondered:

why did it matter so much anyway?

Looking back now, there were probably a lot of signs.

I always wanted facial hair someday.

I dreaded growing a chest.

And every month, my body felt less like something I lived in and more like something happening to me.

But at the time, I didn’t have language for any of it.

I just knew I felt disconnected in ways I couldn’t explain yet.

I think a lot of becoming happens like that.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

Just small realizations piling up quietly over time until eventually you look back and realize they were pointing somewhere all along.

[seanstartrunning]

a survey?

I knew her as a dude by the name of Jay at the time.

She came up to me one morning asking if I wanted to take a survey. She showed me pictures of these girls. I was supposed to answer "trans" or "cis" upon looking at them. There were ten pictures. I wasn't so sure about any of them, so I just answered randomly. They all passed very well. It ended up that all of them were trans. My mind was blown. There was no way, I thought.

And from there, Jay and I got to talking to each other.

The November pep rally, I remember giving her my old saxophone mouth piece. I wasn't going to use it again. She had asked me if she could play my saxophone while we were waiting for our turn to perform. She was one of the kids who just hung out in the bandroom, refusing to go into the crowded gym. I told her, "I'm not sure.. I don't really let people play my instrument anymore..." She kept begging please. I asked her, "Are you sick?"

"No."

"You don't have any diseases?"

"No. No STDs. Not even herpes."

"You sure?" I was all business.

"Yes."

"You're positive?"

"Yes! I got tested!"

I just about laughed my ass off, then I realized I had my old mouthpiece, so I let her use that. And right around the time it was the marching band's turn, I asked for my sax back, and told her to just keep the mouthpiece.

"But, I don't have a sax," she said.

"I don't want it anymore," I replied. "Maybe you'll find a sax somewhere, then you'll be able to play since you got a mouthpiece."

"What, on the streets?"

"Yup, you're gonna find a sax laying on the streets."