not sure...but

I want to take some time and write about my observations and thoughts on my experiences of the past several weeks specifically and also some general stuff. I’m glad I feel like writing again, for a time there I had no ambition to do anything. Then I turned all my ambition toward sewing, and thankfully so.

Right now I am experiencing a particularly bothersome skin problem. I’m not sure what causes it. I have had similar breakouts before, but never knowing for sure of the cause. I have patches of what would seem to be eczema all over my thighs, torso, neck, ear, scalp, and the corner of my jaw. I was worried at first it might be shingles, but that usually only affects one major nerve bundle, and therefore only one side of the body. I have patches on both sides. The weather has been quite humid, and sweating can be painful. Uncle J used to get something similar when he came in contact with petroleum, which was a show stopper for him because he was an engineer on tanker ships. I have never had it as bad as him, if that is what I am experiencing. I have been wondering if it could be a reaction from the fabric dyes or sizing, as I have been sewing a lot. I considered obtaining a pair of cotton gloves for sewing, because my fingers break out when I work with a lot of indigo dyed fabrics. I also wonder if it could be from the sizing on the viscose jerseys, because some of the tops I made I didn’t have time to wash before wearing the first time. My skin doc gave me a salve that is like Vaseline which seems to help, and I think that steroids would be a last resort. I am tempted to put some cortisone on it, but again the steroid factor scares me. I hope it goes away soon.

On to more interesting things other than my skin rebellion. My own skin doesn’t want me, blah.

Through my latest experiences in the GLBTIQ community (yes it has all those letters now), I have gathered more observances from the transman side of things, to sort of balance out my experiences within the trans community as a whole. This observation may seem a bit mundane, but it has a deeper affect on my situation that I am just beginning to realize. I could be dead wrong on this, but I am open to discussion. I should probably get some statistics but here goes; the majority of the transwomen I know of were more heterosexually oriented before transition, and from what most of I have read and seen of the transmen, they came from more lesbian backgrounds. I realize these are gross over simplifications, I also think it could depend on the types of live experiences I have been exposed to. Again these are just assumptions based on personal experience and by no means an attempt to put everyone in neat little boxes.

I am partly jealous of the transmen because they are well accepted and allied within the lesbian community, and I as a transqueerchick am not. I realize it has to do with my past and present male-ness, and lesbians by definition prefer women exclusively. I also realize that my acceptance wouldn’t be any better even after surgery, because after all no one can tell either way if I have been fixed when I am clothed, and I never leave the house unclothed. I think the limitation of tolerance only as rule is probably due to political correct-ness, and nothing more than a token. Or it could be that I really am the only transqueerchick ballsy enough to go to such events and it catches them off guard, like the times in the past when I was the only white face in the crowd. There have been many times in my life where I have been the only exception. I’m not sure what this means, other than indicating a lonely existence. I guess I have a bad habit or the bad luck of always trying to fit in where I don’t usually belong.

I don’t feel and never have, a connection to the gay male community. Most of the gay men I have been exposed to were ones that like shemales and were not in any way out. I can’t ever really remember being attracted to a man, other than maybe Johnny Depp, if I make it with a man it has to be him. My ex used to fear that I was gay, or would eventually decide I was gay and leave her. The irony is that in the context of my life today, I am gay, just not in the way she feared. But either way it means rejection for one of us; one way I would leave her for a man, the other way I would still want her but she wouldn’t be interested in me anymore. Even though I had some homosexual experiences as a male, I never felt anything other than sexual gratification from it. It also made me feel guilty and dirty afterwards. I had felt that I betrayed myself and let myself be used by a creepy guy.

I am glad that I have persevered and pushed myself to go to lesbian events to get some cultural experience. I guess I could look at it this way, the events that would have more value would be ones that don’t involve any dancing, but rather purely cultural, like the reading that I went to the other night called “Damen in Doppelpack” (double pack of women). The focus there was on the reading, and it didn’t matter if I was there or not. One of the authors thought it did matter that I was there, and that is what she penned with her signing my copy of mein lesbisches auge 4 (my lesbian eye #4). Sometimes I feel as though I am going out of bounds, but what I am I supposed to do? Thankfully I haven’t had any run-ins with hardcore second wavers, and if anyone has had a problem with me has kept it to themselves. I am also aware of the intolerance some lesbians have toward trans people in general of either gender identity.

Both Feminism and Patriarchy reinforce the binary gender dichotomy. It is clear that trans people are eating away at the foundations of both philosophies. The feminist literature that I have read offers a fairly accurate analysis of patriarchal exploits of women and children. The solutions offered are mostly going in the right direction, but with major flaws as they apply to today’s society. I also realize the texts were being written as I was just coming into this world.

I find that if people take the time to talk to me they for the most part tend to like me. Kinda like “oh, it is even able to speak too?” I like being nice to other people, and it makes me feel especially good if I am able to make them smile. Everyone has to do what they have to do, so why not try to help each other out once in a while? Little things that take little effort, but can really cheer someone up for a few seconds at least.

Since I have switched gender roles I have been exposed to, for lack of a better term, the sisterhood of women. It’s hard to describe exactly what it feels like, but it is very comforting. My experience reminds me of the SNL skit where Eddie Murphy turns himself into a white man and gets everything he wants for free because he is white, exposing him to a world he could never know because he was really a black man. That skit is the best. I draw the parallel that me being born a male was like Eddie Murphy being born black, whereas the white world to him is the female world to me. What I am trying to describe is that the basic connection between women is so much more pronounced than it is with men. If connection between men even exists. I guess it would stand to reason that women don’t have the inhibitions that men have about showing emotion as being a symptom of homosexuality.

My experiences that lead me to this epiphany were very comforting. Small talk and conversation with other women completely changed. The conversations became much more personal and had an air of comradery. It helped me feel accepted and included. Touching each other is not a big deal either. Like in a crowded Saarein, everybody’s arms, legs, backs, etc. were touching and no one cared. It makes me feel good inside. Or like my sisters sitting with me really close or laying down with their legs over my lap. It’s nice to be able to show affection to those you care about without it being confused with homosexuality. The company of men stands in stark contrast to the company of women, and I have come to like the differences very much. So much that I will never give up on my path. I also realize it is not all as perfect as I make it out to be, but I try to see everything through my rose colored glasses ya know.

Even women strangers have shown the “we have to stick together” attitude. A specific example was when the woman on the train on the return from a’dam offered me help getting my suitcase down from the top rack. She didn’t really offer, she just kinda did it without questioning. Maybe she assumed that I didn’t get it up there myself, which I had to struggle to do. It’s like we give each other preferential treatment over men. Most of the time it is really subtle, and therefore it goes mostly unnoticed by the oblivious men, present party included, and in the past of course. I hope I am not letting the cat out of the bag with this, but no one has told me to keep it to myself so I am going to talk about it. Coming to feel sisterly love is the best and most unexpected outcome of my transition. It gives me a strong sense of basic belonging, one that I never knew living as a male.

If women were to stage a rebellion to take the world back from the hands of men, we could succeed. I think that the fact that there is such a seemingly inherent natural bond between women could be the deciding factor. Like the adhesive that keeps us together to help us succeed. Men would surely end up fighting amongst themselves, opening them up for defeat. It stands to reason that women aren’t exempt from backstabbing either, but I think that banding together would be simpler than between men. If victory were dependent on the strength or even existence of a basic bond, then women would prevail. I am not sure where I am going with all this bullshit, I just hope I can understand it someday. I contend that if the world were in the hands of women it would be a much cleaner, more compassionate place to be in. If and when the revolution comes, I am ready.

I am reminded of the night in Saarein back in January. I was sitting at the bar talking to T as the bar became steadily full. T introduced me to many people as they came to get drinks. She was funny, She told me bluntly that some of the seemingly bi women would “want you to fuck them.” I knew what she meant, and I told her I don’t do that anymore. That was a wild night.

Is it ok to have an infatuation with rocka/psycho/hellbillies, without actually being one? My ex introduced me to the latter’s music. It can get pretty violent, in sort of a bdsm sort of way. The lyric “shut me up with a leather mask” from bondage a go-go comes to mind. That shit scares me. I know it is all about letting go and trusting, but I fear the really shady stuff that could happen when one finds themselves in a compromising position. I suppose that is probably part of the thrill. I remember a three or four floored gay club in Boston, don’t recall the name, but in the cellar they had what they called the dungeon. It was decorated in chrome and black leather with lots of restraint devices neatly arranged for your very own dose of personal anguish. Bondage just isn’t my bag.

When it all comes down to it, there is no substitute for punk rock. KPo is punk rock. Mari is punk rock. Hank is punk rock. I am punk rock in the disguise of a tart. Slamming, or whatever it’s called today, is so invigorating. I had the chance to do it with Hank at the party in a’dam for a couple of songs. The chaos that erupts is great. It is in some ways a release of aggression that everyone needs every once in a while. It’s fun to watch too, if you’re not into contact sports. I am listening to DK Police Truck right now, so you know where my mind is at. I just got all crazy to too drunk to fuck. That felt nice, who says I don’t exercise?

I am glad that I am placing more importance on my private life instead of my work. I have become so unmotivated partly because of the situation with brand A. I think this summer will be quite a wild ride, at least I hope so.