Body Image

First of all, I would like to publically (at least “publically” within the limited scope of this readership) acknowledge that I am following the blogs of some very incredible, courageous, and insightful women. Most of these blogs chronicle their journeys of living in the male role to transitioning to living as the women they have always felt they were. Gender Identity Disorder (GID) is a complex and multi-layered entity, and I won’t even attempt to discuss any of its facets with my limited background and education in the matter. I just know that these are people who have been given a complicated set of circumstances to deal with to the best of their abilities. I have appreciated the depth of these challenges and the painful decisions that have often been required for these individuals to move forward with their lives and nurture their sense of selves.

In reading some entries in these chapters of life, I have compared and contrasted some of my own experiences with my physical development as a woman and my psychological and emotional composition as a woman. My mind wandered down an interesting path the other evening as I read about one trans woman experiencing the changes in her body after she had begun estrogen therapy: the breast development, the redistribution of body fat, the softening of the skin, and the diminishing of body hair. I found myself envying that last change brought about by estrogen’s magic!

You see, I am a genetic woman, a cis woman, a person with XX chromosomes. I saw an endocrinologist when I was 14-years-old to evaluate my uneven breast development. I certainly didn’t need an endocrinologist to evaluate the problem of one young boob being bigger than the other. The fact that they started developing when I was 10-years-old and I got my first period a year later was evidence enough that my basic female hormones were present and doing what they were suppose to do. What this endocrinologist did note when examining me was the male distribution of hair on my lower abdomen. He seemed to think that that indicated a need to evaluate some hormone levels, including adrenal function. All that came back normal, and I never visited an endocrinologist again.

My attention at that point in my life was drawn to my excess of body hair, however. There was no question about it. I was a very hairy woman! I had all that dark, coarse hair on my lower abdomen where most women were smooth and hairless with perhaps just a bit of pale “peach fuzz” at best. The bush that grew beneath this “male hair distribution pattern” was also thick and unruly. My arms were hairy. My legs had a covering of dark, coarse hair from my thighs to my ankles. If allowed to grow, I had as much armpit hair as my boyfriend. Another fact that only I and those most intimate with me have ever known is that my clitoris is also on the “well hung” side, not this tiny nubbin that most women have. I mean, you positively can’t miss mine! In my early 20s, I had some hormone levels drawn to evaluate some menstrual irregularities and I really wasn’t at all surprised to find out that my testosterone level was right there at the top of the normal range for an adult woman. 80 was the cut-off. I was at 78. Still, everything else checked out satisfactorily and I was never diagnosed with any metabolic or hormone problems.

I’m a genetic woman but I don’t feel like a soft, smooth woman, either physically or psychologically. My preparations for becoming “soft and smooth” take me quite a bit of time. I pluck a lot of coarse hairs out of my chin, jawline, and upper lip every two or three days. My tweezers and I are intimate friends. I’m still shying away from facial electrolysis because I’m a sissy at heart. (I’d do it in a heartbeat if it didn’t hurt!) I shave the area around each areola because that area, too, sprouts a lot of dark hair. (Fortunately, I only have a couple of wispy stray hairs on my chest that don’t pose a problem.) I shave my lower arms. I don’t think my pits have ever really appeared silky and bare because I have such a heavy growth of dark hair that I have 5:00 shadow just some hours out of the shower. I shave my abdomen. I shave my legs from groin to ankle, a smooth condition that lasts me only until the next day when I’d have to do it all over again if my propensity to folliculitis didn’t discourage shaving that frequently.

I would give anything to have my own female hormones make me smooth, soft, and hairless but that has never happened for me. In my late teens and early 20s, my gynecologist prescribed a high estrogen birth control pill for me in hopes of “toning down” the body hair, but it didn’t really do all that much towards that objective. And then those pills were taken off the market due to health risks. Higher levels of estrogen cause a woman’s blood to clot more easily, putting her at higher risk for heart attacks, strokes, and deep vein thrombosis. Due to that risk and the increased risk of breast cancer, I can barely get a doctor to write out a prescription for estrogen to control my menopausal symptoms now. I’m taking a measley 0.3 mg every other day which is enough to control my hot flashes, and my doctor would like to see me off of that soon.

So, women come in all flavors, don’t they? We’re not all soft, smooth, and silky! There have been a lot of times when I have felt like a hybrid, an androgenous blend of male and female, outwardly female but aware of my coarser edges. It was the way I was made by whatever mix of genes controls these things.

Queer Friendly Spaces

In May, I wrote the post Dildo Bingo following my very positive experience with this event at the Twin Cities’ most popular lesbian bar, Pi.   The truth is that Pi is much more than a “lesbian bar.”  I’d like to quote Joni Thome, a good friend of Pi Bar’s owner and definitely Pi family. She’s a mom, a lawyer, and a long time activist. This letter was recently published online in the Yahoo Group “Bisexual Organizing Project,” the Twin Cities most prominent social and support network for bisexual folks:

This is the only place I have ever been where the sign “everyone welcome” speaks the truth about the establishment. Many in our communities have worked long and hard to bring different communities of color, culture, age, class, sexual orientation and gender identity together in one place.  In 30 years in this community I have only witnessed two venues achieve that goal, Twin Cities Pride and Pi. And, Pi has done it in under two years!

 This is more than a bar, it’s a place that is rich in potential and one that is destined to become a community landmark. Last night I watched and celebrated the election results with my Seward and Longfellow neighbors, several punks, a group of children, postal workers, teachers, stay at home parents, students, lawyers, bankers, city and county workers, people who just lost their jobs and houses and so on.  I was at Pi and the true community spirit could not have been more intense. Then again, this night was not all that different from other evenings at Pi – whether for Dildo Dingo, a Kid Dance Party, a neighborhood wine tasting or for a fundraiser, the community spirit is present at this place. We cannot let this unique and necessary space get away.

You see, Pi may close its doors this weekend after less than two years in business.  Tara Yule, the owner of Pi, took some chances with “creative financing” when she negotiated to buy the concrete, single story building that Pi is in (a former VFW post in an inner city industrial area of South Minneapolis.)  The balloon payment has come due, and she can’t afford to meet the terms of what she now owes to fulfill the contract for deed.   She gambled that she would come up with enough money after over a year-and-a-half in business, but as we all know, the economy has been bad.

Dildo Bingo this past Thursday evening was a special event, the proceeds going towards Pi instead of to GLBT charities as usual.  The funds were to help Tara pay her staff before Pi closed its doors on Sunday.  However, the energy in Pi Thursday night was high, the joint was packed, and people are guardedly optimistic that Pi may just pull out of this financial plight.  Since it was announced during the last week in October that Pi was going to have to close, the community has come together with donations both large and small.  The last I figure I heard for sure was that $150,000 has been raised.  I know it is more now.  Dildo Bingo raised approximately $3500 Thursday night — a new record for the Dildo Bingo monthly event — and private donations are continuing to come in.  I myself wrote out a check for $100 Thursday evening and gave it to Tara, in addition to staying for all ten rounds of bingo.  (That’s why I planned in advance to take Friday as a vacation day.  I knew I wouldn’t be home before midnight, and I was right!)  It’s not much in the scheme of things, but every little bit helps.

I care about this space remaining available to the LGBT community and their friends and families, too.  This past Thursday evening was only my second time being in Pi, but I’ve enjoyed it very much both times.  I, too, have been around for awhile, my coming out occurring here in the Twin Cities in 1976 at a weekly social event called “A Woman’s Coffeehouse.”  I had gotten information about this gathering from the Lesbian Resource Center, a group I contacted within weeks after moving here.  It was held every Friday and Saturday evenings in the basement of a Minneapolis church not far from downtown.  These were quiet gatherings consisting of tea and cookies and Rice Krispie bars.  Entertainment was a musician or singer from the community.  There may have been some dancing later in the evening to recorded music.  Women would sit around and talk, eye each other up.  It was all very low-key, but this was about all there was for lesbian-oriented social activities.

I’ve seen a number of lesbian bars come and go during my time here, although I never enjoyed the bar atmosphere back when smoking was permitted indoors.  The bar crowd also seemed quite clique-ish, catering to the stereotypical dyke segment of the population.  As a bisexual woman, I didn’t fit in there.

But Pi has been different.  Or maybe the times are different and Pi has captured that.  I have felt very comfortable at Pi with its range of patrons.  I sat at a table with my trans friend, Randi Sue, Thursday evening and two trans men.  The trans community is at Pi in significant numbers.  There are young women there and middle-aged women there.  There are hippies from the 70s and Goth chicks at Pi.  There are college students, college professors, mechanics, artists, sales clerks, and actors at Pi at any given event.  I’m sure that orientation and gender run the spectrum of possibilities, and it’s all okay.  Everyone is having a good time.

Having come out during an era where a queer-friendly place like Pi was not in existence, I understand how important this establishment is.  I understand what it stands for and the values it embraces.  I know how good it feels to be there! 

I want it to stay as part of our community for all those (including myself) who need a comfortable, fun queer-friendly place to be, where everyone is accepted for who they are (valid ID required, of course!) when they walk through the door.

I’m waiting with bated breath to see what comes of the fund-raising efforts.  I hope it’s enough to keep Pi alive.

Xtreme Reaction

I was spending some time on Ye Olde Dating Site this afternoon and came across a journal entry from a 31 year old presurgical trans woman. Someone commented on how brave she is in dealing with her issues, and she responded, “There’s nothing brave about me. I’m a big huge coward and I’m taking years longer than I should be to get through this process because of my immense cowardice. I’m being open about who I am online because I’m too much of a coward and too non-confrontational to leave it as the non-issue it really ought to be… “

I commented that I’ve dated trans women in their 40s and 50s who were just then dealing with some of the issues she is dealing with. (She delete my comment so I can’t quote myself directly!) I went on to say that everyone follows their own timetable for these things, including SRS, and she shouldn’t feel pressured to be at a certain place with some things because she thinks she should be or she perceives that others think she should be in a certain place with it. I wished her the best of luck on her journey.

Moments later, I get this IM from her through the website’s Instant Messaging function:

5:12:52 pm)Kate:Very presumtuous of you.

(5:13:05 pm)Kate:I think I’m going to go ahead and cancel your comment rather than post a reply to it.

(5:13:33 pm)Kate:I just don’t have the energy to correct peoples’ misconceptions right now.

(5:13:52 pm)Kate:Thank you for making me feel more misunderstood, isolated and alone, though.

(5:15:35 pm)Kinsey:I’m not sure what I was presumptuous about. I mentioned SRS. If it’s not a consideration, it’s not a consideration. It isn’t for everyone.

(5:16:21 pm)Kate:What’s presumptuous of you is assuming that the reason I feel I’m taking too long has anything to do with anyone’s else’s opinion of how long it should take.

(5:16:47 pm)Kate:Not everyone is capable of living in the wrong body for 40 to 50 years and still remaining reasonably functional.

(5:17:13 pm)Kate:If I take much longer, I’m going to end up on disability and will never ever be able to afford to complete the process.

(5:17:21 pm)Kate:And at that point I might as well fucking kill myself.

(5:17:36 pm)Kate:Also, yes, I find the notion of equating “woman” with “person who has a vagina” to be somewhat offensive.

(5:17:56 pm)Kate:As would many other feminists.

Wow. All of this in response to what seems to be a couple of pretty innocent sentences and my best wishes for her happiness! I felt very attacked!

Did I block her? I’m afraid I did. :=(

Acceptance

My husband and I have had quite a few open discussions about transgenderism (is that a word?) lately due to my recent relationships with two more trans individuals.  I’ve been thinking about why I have such a laid-back whatever attitude towards it when others struggle with this situation.

My first experience with a trans individual was with a woman who was in her late 30s at the time I met her, and I must have been about 22.  I didn’t know that she was a trans individual at the time I met her.  Perhaps she didn’t, either.  It wasn’t discussed.  I just knew that she was a “dyke,” a very nonfeminine lesbian, and she was very interested in having me as her lover.  I succumbed to her pursuits and had sex with her a couple of times.  On the second occasion, I actually got some of her clothes off and discovered that she was wearing men’s briefs underneath her jeans.  I didn’t comment on it.  In an intuitive way, I sort of understood what it was about and didn’t feel the need to mention it.

I drifted away from the church congregation that we were both members of, and I went for maybe a year without seeing her.  I coincidentally showed up at church again after a long absence on the day of her commitment ceremony to Kate which followed the regular service.  I knew nothing about this, nor did I realize all the changes that had taken place during that time I had been gone.  During the commitment ceremony, Tara was called “David.”  (No, I don’t use people’s real names in these posts.)  At the reception in the church basement, I offered my congratulations to the couple, and Tara told me that her name was now legally “David.”  S/he was on testosterone therapy and making the transition to living as a man.  I was glad for her/him (okay, the pronouns are hard when you’ve known a person as one sex and then he/she switches it on you at some point!) and said so.  It seemed like the way that “David” would be happiest, and I knew that.

It was during my relationship with Tara that I met Max.  I was sitting next to Tara during a church service and the minister asked for prayers for Max who was in the hospital.  I leaned over and asked Tara what Max was in the hospital for.  “A hysterectomy,” she said.

“Oh,” I said.  And nothing more needed to be said.  That one surprised me because I had only known Max as Max and never even had an inkling that Max had female sex organs.  He had already had his mastectomy before I met him.  I became good friends with Max and visited him in the hospital when he underwent his first surgical procedure to construct a semblance of a penis and saw firsthand what cosmetic procedures were being attempted.  I was a friend, and I was interested, and I accepted it for what it was.

There was a man named Kenny in our church congregation at this time as well.  On the first Sunday after New Year’s, Kenny showed up to direct the choir as Victoria.  He/she had made the public transition to start the new year.  Again, I took this all in and quietly acknowledged the situation, having to say that Victoria looked a hell of a lot more attractive as Victoria than she did as Kenny!

A lot of years went by — 17 to be exact — while I was abstinent from sexual relationships with women and absent from publically hanging out with the GLBT community in any organized way.  Then I started dating again.  I had a three-year relationship with Maura.  After we stopped seeing each other, the next person I dated was a MTF trans woman.  She said she felt very comfortable with me.  I learned a lot about “transition” from her: emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

I’ve known several other MTF trans women since then.  They said as well that they felt comfortable with me.  I was easy to talk to, easy to be with.

It’s just me being me.  I have had a natural, easygoing attitude about sex since I started to learn about it as a pubescent child.  I had a keen interest in sexual matters, not just from the usual childhood curiosity standpoint but from the medical and scientific standpoint as well.  I was born too late to be one of Dr. Alfred Kinsey’s associates, but I well could have been if I had been a peer in his era!  From finding the library copy of Dr. Kinsey’s Sexual Response in the Human Female in my room as a high school freshman to Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid to Ask) on my nightstand as a sophomore and The Sensuous Man in my collection as a junior, I drove my parents nuts with my unabashed interest in human sexuality.  My somewhat explicit journaling while still in high school turned my mother completely gray-haired and ashen-faced!

Nothing much shocks me.  Nothing much surprises me in the realm of human sexuality.  I’ve always believed that we in Western society have done ourselves more harm than good by the puritanical attitudes we’ve maintained over the centuries about our own sexuality.  Yes, I believe in sexual ethics.  I believe that sexual behavior should be shared in a loving manner,  mindful of and responsible for the potential consequences of that behavior.  However, those ethics don’t develop in a healthy way in the midst of inhibited attitudes and shame.

As a teenager, I became acquainted with and embraced my bisexuality, learning early in my life that there are more shades of gray in our sexuality than clear lines of demarcation.  I know that I have many fluid, androgynous qualities.  I move comfortably between my male traits and my female traits, embracing them all as a part of me.  I don’t feel any discomfort about loving men and loving women.  Even my male alter ego can love a man as well as a woman!  It’s all just part of me and the full spectrum of feelings and desires that I’m able to experience.

Do I understand gender dysphoria, the feeling of being the other gender while carrying the chromosomes and primary sexual characteristics of the genetic sex?  No, I don’t.  I’ve never stood in those shoes.  I’ve got XX chromosomes and sex organs and have always felt comfortable with my identity as a woman.  I don’t know what causes gender dysphoria in some individuals.  I’d like to know more about it, but I’m not sure that science has the answer to that situation so I haven’t done any review of the literature on it.  I may at some point just to see what I can glean from it, but I’m anticipating that it’ll be a hodge-podge and mishmash of stuff, perhaps much of it contradictory and all of it inconclusive.

What I’ve done is accept.   I don’t understand and comprehend gender dysphoria in a personal sense.  I don’t think I really can from my perspective.  I accept that it exists.  I accept that gender reassignment is the solution for some people in this situation.  I accept that their basic needs are the same as everyone else’s. 

That’s what I understand.

 

 

 

Community

I’m trying to develop a social network within the bisexual community here in the Twin Cities.  I’m trying to do my part towards supporting a sense of community for the bisexual population  within the GLBT community.  I believe in this cause.  It’s been sorely lacking in my own life, and I would imagine that many people who identify as bisexual feel the same sense of aloneness and isolation in their lives.

The only group I’ve connected with so far here in the Twin Cities that seems to have any merit in this regard is the Bisexual Organizing Project, and they have a grand total of 240 members, a handful of which participate in any social events!  That seems like a very low number considering the rather substantial bisexual population that must surely exist here in a large, liberal metropolitan area.  However, it is what it is.  (Organizing bisexuals is a lot like herding cats, a whole line of thinking reserved for another post!)

The monthly “bi brunch” is being held this Sunday at a member’s home northwest of Minneapolis, followed by the every-other-month board meeting.  I’ve vaciliated about attending.  I’ve been tending more towards going rather than not going since finding out through the Yahoo Group postings that Millie is otherwise occupied on Mother’s Day! 

I extended an offer to Anne to ride with me to the brunch and meeting on Sunday, aware that she currently does not have a car and relies mostly on public transit.  I’m not going to let that relationship of two “dates” duration deter me from getting involved with the group.  I have absolutely no ill feelings towards Anne.  I wanted to be her friend.

My husband has no ill feelings towards me being friends with Anne.  He stated that he had some trouble wrapping his head around my potential sexual involvement with trans women, and he further went on to later refine this discomfort to say that he has trouble with the concept of me getting sexually involved with pre-surgical trans women.  I understand this feeling, even though I don’t share his same level of discomfort.  I respect his feelings, especially since they were stated in a very appropriate personal ownership of these feelings without any demands, ultimatums, slams or insults in any way associated with his sharing of these feelings.

We’ve talked quite a lot about this whole situation in recent days, and I’m impressed with the level of honesty, open communication, and non-defensive sharing that has gone on.  I’ve acknowledged his feelings.  He’s acknowledged mine, and we’re learning from each other.  Saturday night, I did draw my line in the sand, which was this: “I understand your feelings about my potential sexual relationships with trans women, particularly pre-surgical trans women, but I expect that they’ll always be welcomed warmly as friends in our home and treated no differently than anyone else in that regard.” 

He was firm in his agreement of that position.  “Absolutely!” he stated.  “Of course!” 

Of course, I never expected that there would be any problem with that aspect of my relationships.  He’s a good man, not a bigot, not a “red neck,” not narrow-minded and rigid in his beliefs.  He’s trying to wrap his head around a complex set of issues, a set of issues that his own personal experiences have not covered in his life, and I respect him for the effort he puts into expanding his insights.

Anne, however, appeared to reject my offer of friendship.  The feeling I got was that if she can’t have me as a lover, then she doesn’t want my company.

So be it.  You can’t have everyone as your lover.  Some people are platonic friends, and that is well and good.

The Bisexual Organizing Project with its 240 members appears to be its own little ”Peyton Place,” with members having romantic and sexual partnerships with each other.  That seems to be a complicating factor in its dynamics.  Probably even interferes with its smooth operation at times, depending on who is sleeping with whom and who isn’t anymore, etc.!  I really would like to keep those complications to a minimum if I’m going to get more involved with this group!

Anne turned me down for the ride to the Brunch and Board Meeting on Sunday.  I told her to let me know if she changes her mind, that her contribution and input to the group is welcomed and appreciated.

I want to support this community, not do things to cause conflict and ill will.  Let’s pray I succeed.