Be My Trans Queer Lesbian Valentine

Conversation with doctor:
“So, is your partner bisexual?”
“No, she’s a lesbian”
“Oh, not even a little bit attracted to men?”
“No, definitely not”
*long pause*
“That’s going to present big problems for your relationship as you transition.”

Well, that doctor wasn’t the first to suggest that me transitioning would signal the end of my loving relationship of (at that point) six years, and certainly won’t be the last. I’m not so naive that I don’t realise that historically not that many relationships make it after one half of the couple goes through transition. I do realise that as we change emotionally and physically, our relationships change too, sometimes just moving too much away from the core that held the couple together in the first place for the relationship to stay viable.

I know this. But as it’s nearly Valentine’s Day, I want to make a plea…don’t write us off. Don’t assume the worst. Don’t sit by the phone waiting for the bad news. Because it doesn’t happen to everybody.

I’m not going to go into the ins and outs (fnar) of my sexuality, and that of my partner. I think we covered that in my earlier post So, does that make you both straight now? Suffice it to say that I identify as queer, and my partner identifies as a queer lesbian. For a definition of what the word ‘queer’ means to us (and won’t necessarily for everybody), please see the Glossary I posted a while back. Sexually, yes, we’ve had a steep hill to climb in terms of my physical changes, and also the changes in the way I relate to my own body. But that hill hasn’t necessarily been a bad one to climb, and we’ve quite enjoyed some of the views to be had along the way, if I can stretch that metaphor a little further!

Emotionally, I have changed, and that has led to a lot of renegotiating (and me being b*tchslapped by Willemina pretty regularly). But all in all, I am still the same person I have always been, only happier, more relaxed, more comfortable, more confident than ever. I am finally feeling like the person I always wanted to be, and that’s actually done our relationship a whole lot of good. Let’s face it, would you rather your partner was uptight, depressed, stressed and uncomfortable, or the opposite? Some of the changes we have faced really have been a good thing for both of us.

We’re an odd couple, I know, a transman and a lesbian. But for us, it works. We don’t do anything special, we’re just very, very lucky. Relationships either work or they don’t. Some do break down because of transition, some because of other stuff. If you have friends in a relationship, and one is just starting out on their transition journey, please don’t assume the relationship will crash and burn. Of course, it might, but my point is that it’s horrible to assume, and unfair to say to anyone that’s embarking on their transition that what they are doing will lose them their partner. Just support them if that does happen, and please, avoid “I told you so’s”, because these things are NOT inevitable.

It’s been about 7 years since Willemina and I first met, nearly 18 months since we had our Civil Partnership ceremony (more of that, and the legal issues around it, at a later date. Not now – I’m feeling romantic). We are still together, and strongly so. I can’t guarantee we’ll be together, forever, until the end of our days. Who can? But we have pledged to be together until the point where we stop being happy with one another.

So Willemina Velvetina Pelicina, I love you with all my heart. You are my strength and the arms that hold me when I worry. You are warmth and giggles and craziness. Your smile makes my brain explode, and your farts are the stuff of legend. I’m yours.
***stop press***
New video up on YouTube – interview, romance, and me failing the latest manliness test in spectacular fashion! Just click on MrHerbertTurtle up on the right hand side of this post.

5 Ways To Keep Your Trans Loved One Happy

Do you remember those books that were popular in the 70s and 80s – with titles like “The Vegetable and Herb Expert”? They taught us how to nurture our plants and help them grow into strong, beautiful things. I wanted to make this something similar, but thought “The Trans Expert” might be overreaching myself a little. Besides, I’m no expert.

There’s a million and one issues involved in living with another person – be they your partner, child, parent, sibling, house-mate, etc., let alone when that person identifies very differently to you. Personally, I find other people quite ‘tricky’, and frankly, it’s a miracle that my partner has put up with me as long as she has. But she has, which is all that counts.

There’s an assumption, when someone comes out as being trans, that suddenly there will be a lot of drama, upheaval and heartache. I’m going to be looking at the impact of this on personal relationships sometime around Valentines Day, so won’t go into that side of things too heavily now. However, it needn’t all be about drama. Here are a few things to help you look after the trans person in your life:

1) Don’t assume ANYthing. Sure, read about trans people, watch the documentaries, check out Chaz Bono’s book/TV programme/etc. if that does it for you, but please don’t assume that YOUR trans loved one will necessarily conform to all, or any, of the things you read/see/expect. We are all individuals, and just as (say) every person with blonde hair is different, so is every trans person. Despite the jokes made about both groups of people.

2) Don’t call us ‘brave’. I’ve talked about this before, but really, I’m just me and I can’t say I’m particularly brave. Going to the dentist last week practically made me wee myself, and I’ve never rescued a small child from a burning building, so no, no bravery here. Feel free to focus on your loved one’s specific acts of bravery (eg: coming out to a family member who has traditionally had an issue with LGBT people, for instance) but please don’t call us brave just for being who we are. And on a related note…

3) Don’t call us ‘inspiring’. I’d love to think I’m inspiring, perhaps through my writing, or my YouTube videos, or because someone I know has found me helpful at some point. But please don’t call me ‘inspiring’ just because I’m trans. Focus on someone’s actions, specifically what they have done or said that you admire, not just the fact of their existence. Trans people just exist.

4) Appreciate that if we are taking testosterone we are going through a lot of changes, but that we are still basically the same old people. Don’t let people get away with sh*t because they’re transitioning, but at the same time, be prepared to accept that life can be a bit roller-coastery for us at times. And remember that, like anyone, sometimes we need a big hug, and sometimes we need space. Talk to us if you want to know which.

5) As much as you want to be involved in helping us match up our outsides with our insides, be very wary of giving us advice on “how to be more like” the gender with which we identify. Just because I ask you whether my new shirt makes me look manly or not doesn’t mean I’m giving you free rein to say “well, whilst I’m at it, you look really girly when you stand like that”. Sometimes I do ask my partner for pointers, but this is negotiated, and you won’t make your trans loved one happy by pointing out to them on a regular basis how UNlike the gender with which they identify they currently look/act.

Most of all, though, please do what Elisha Lim and Rae Spoon sing in this video. And yes, the first few seconds are minus sound…don’t adjust your sets.

So how ARE you? IN YOURSELF?

Do we look unhappy?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those of you who know Peter Kay (the best thing to come out of Bolton since Reebok shoes and spun cotton) may remember his sketch, that goes something like this:

Concerned person: How ARE you?

Other person: I’m fine.

Concerned person: (Looking meaningful) Yes, but how are you IN YOURSELF?

This sketch continues when talking about someone else:

Mr Curious: So how’s your son? IN HIMSELF?

With the latter part of that query accompanied by a screwed-up face showing concern, tenderness, and not a little meddling nosiness.

“In yourself” (or “him/her/themself”) implies ‘inside’, ‘emotionally’, and generally on a level not adequately covered by the answer “fine”. It is a way of implying that there are Deeper Things to be uncovered and discussed, whether or not the person being asked really wants to spill their guts. I find it’s also often a way for people to be dead nosey, hidden under a veneer of concern. But then, I’ve always been a bit cynical, and transitioning hasn’t made me any less so.

My partner and I get this kind of thing quite a lot. People no doubt have the best of intentions, asking me, perhaps, how my transition is going, or how my partner is dealing with my changes, but if they’re told “fine”, or a longer equivalent, things sometimes get a little too personal.

With me, it sometimes doesn’t seem to be enough for things to be going ok. Which they pretty much are. 46 blog posts later, I don’t think I can be accused of holding back on how I feel, but, you know, sometimes things really are just fine. Sometimes they’re not, but can anybody honestly say that they don’t have their downs as well as their ups? You may just catch me on a day when I don’t feel like explaining something that’s troubling me in detail, particularly when 9 times out of 10 people assume that anything that’s wrong must be because of My Big Decision.

(Quick note to any other trans people reading this – how often do you hear “Wow, that must have been a Really Big Decision”. No sh*t!!)

As for Willemina, people assume that she must be going through emotional hell and is just hiding it because she is brave, and doesn’t want to upset me. Now, she has assured me that’s not the case, and we have sufficient love and mutual respect going on that there’s enough honesty between us for me to believe her. But other people sometimes seem to find it hard to do the same. We’re not Super Couple, but we’re plodding along through life just the same as we always did, and whilst it’d be stupid to assume there’s been no impact by my transition on our relationship, it’s a shame to assume that either Willemina or our life together are about to fall apart. You know what? We’re fine.

Which brings me to another, more personal area. When was the last time you enquired about the sex-life of a couple you know? If a couple you are friends with have had a lot of things going on in their life, did you ask them if they are still sleeping together? If that couple went through life changes of whatever sort, did you ask one of them if their sex-life was still satisfying?

There can be an assumption that because my transition is based around gender, that somehow it is also connected to sexuality (via genitalia, I’m guessing?). This leads to the further assumption that because I have chosen to transition very openly, sharing areas of my life that you don’t often learn about, that I don’t have boundaries. Of course I am open about my gender identity, but that really does not make it “fine” to ask us about sex, or our relationship, or to assume that these might be under attack by my transition. Or that if we say things are “fine” we must be hiding something. Just as I have maintained in the past, and still maintain, what is in my pants is my business. In the same way, what my partner and I do in each others’ pants is not up for discussion.

To quote Hillary Clinton, hopelessly out of context:
“I believe in a zone of privacy”.

 

Love Is A Weird Thing

A year ago today I entered into a Civil Partnership with Willemina, who agreed to sign the dotted line with me despite my being what I optimistically term “an interesting person”. Or as an ex put it, “you’ve got so much baggage you need a Pickford’s van”. For those of you not living in sunny Britshire, a Civil Partnership is a legally recognised union between two people of the same sex. It affords same-sex couples the same legal rights as a heterosexual marriage. Weirdly, nobody’s thought up a good verb to describe this act. There’s no equivalent to “I married Willemina a year ago”. After all “I partnered Willemina a year ago” sounds a bit silly, and just a touch smutty.

Amyway, semantics aside, that’s what we did. A terrific day was had by all, with skulls and roses, vegan deliciousness, balloon twisting, a bit of crying (me) and 5 inch stillettoes (Willemina and my daughter). After entering the ceremony room to the tune of “I Am The One And Only”, we solemnly promised to love each other whatever life might throw at us.

And boy, has life done some throwing. I knew in my heart that I was transgender long before this ceremony, and Willemina and I both knew, when we promised to love each other, that I would soon start to formally transition. It actually didn’t occur to us once to call things off, because we saw what we were doing as our way to tell the world how we felt about one another. And if I’m honest, we just wanted to be that little bit closer to one another, by sealing it in ink, swapping rings, combining our names, and having a damn good party.

When we felt the time had come to tell family and friends about the changes I was planning to make, we sent out lots of letters, emails and messages. We wanted people to hear from us, not through the grapevine. We were very, very shocked when an old friend wrote back to us and said the following:

“I think you are making a mockery of the fight for equal marriage rights by having a Civil Partnership, then deciding to go ahead and have a sex change [sic] anyway”.

My initial reaction to this was write a two page missive making it perfectly clear what I thought of this person and her ideas. Fortunately, my second reaction was to save that missive, and leave it for a few days. We actually never replied to her. There were just so many things to be said that ultimately silence was the safest response.

For a start, this misguided notion that I might “decide to go ahead with a sex change” is kind of laughable, until it hits home that a lot of people really do think that’s how it works. Maybe life over the last few years would have been easier, if it were simply a case of waking up one morning and deciding “Today, I am going to be a man”. Ha! I am a big fan of Family Guy, but was shocked speechless by the programme’s portrayal of a man walking into the operating theatre, and coming out a statuesque blonde. Who then goes on to revolt all in her acquaintance. All in the one day. As you do. The issue of how long, both emotionally and physically it takes to transition, and the naivete of the idea that identifying as trans is simply a one way street with ‘woman’ at one end, and ‘man’ at the other, deserve more space on this blog than I feel I can give today, but please, if you ever hear anyone referring to someone “deciding to have a sex change”, do me a favour, and do a little educating. Or punch them.

But on to whether we made a mockery of the fight for equal marriage. Willemina and I are both legally female. At some point in the dim and distant future, I may (or may not) choose to apply for a Gender Recognition Certificate. This, amongst other things, would make me legally male, and therefore able to marry Willemina in a heterosexual marriage. This all assumes a lot of things. It assumes I will ever decide I wish to apply for a GRC. It assumes that Willemina and I actually want to be seen as a heterosexual couple. It’s a really complicated issue, and not one that is likely to be resolved in the near future.

We entered into a Civil Partnership because that’s the only option available to make our partnership legally recognised. We also did so because we wished to validate same-sex unions, and make our friends and family aware of the commitment equal to marriage such a partnership brings. Being trans doesn’t suddenly make me immune to feeling passionate about the rights of same-sex couples, and whilst I acknowledge that I did not actually identify as female when we became Civil Partners, we made the most of what we had, and tried to fly the flag for what is still a fairly new institution. Is that us making a mockery? I hope not.

A year on, our passion for each other burns strong. Our tolerance for each other’s farts, bad jokes and general stubbornness is just as strong as it ever was. Our Civil Partnership has made a definite, but hard to quantify, difference. Our year since the ceremony has been peppered with change, some hardship and having to deal with the prejudices of others. We’re not perfect, but I can say with hand on heart that without Willemina, this year would have been impossible.

One year on, we are being truer to ourselves than ever, and if a loving, ever-blossoming relationship between a staunch lesbian and a queer transman is really making a mockery of anything, it’s making a mockery of other people’s perceptions of how relationships should be. And in many cases those perceptions deserve all the mockery they get.

 

If Ever I Stray

Forgive me someone, for I have sinned
And I know not where I should begin
And some days it feels like you just can’t win
No matter what you do or say.

Things didn’t kill me but I don’t feel stronger
Life is short but it feels much longer
When you’ve lost the fight, yeah you’ve lost that hunger
To pull yourself through the day.

But if ever I stray from the path I follow
Take me down to the English Channel
Throw me in where the water is shallow
And then drag me on back to shore!

‘Cos love is free and life is cheap
And as long as I’ve got me a place to sleep
Some clothes on my back and some food to eat
Then I can’t ask for anything more

So come on everybody sing it 1, 2, 3, 4

So we all have secrets that we hold inside
They’re the worst little things that you never confide
And the worst one of all that you just can’t hide
Is that you’re never quite as strong as you sound
So I’m sorry baby, for the times I’ve hurt you
Sorry friends, for the times I desert you
Most days it feels like I don’t deserve you
And I wonder that you’re all still around

So if ever I stray from the path I follow
Take me down to the English Channel
Throw me in where the water is shallow
And then drag me on back to shore!

‘Cos love is free and life is cheap
And as long as I’ve got me a place to sleep
Some clothes on my back and some food to eat
Then I can’t ask for anything more

So come on everybody sing it 1, 2, 3, 4

Come on and join me in the water
And we’ll swim for home
Sometimes it’s hard to remember
I couldn’t do this on my own

So if ever I stray from the path I follow
Take me down to the English Channel
Throw me in where the water is shallow
And then drag me on back to shore!

‘Cos love is free and life is cheap
And as long as I’ve got me a place to sleep
Clothes on my back and some food to eat
Then I can’t ask for anything more

I won’t ask for anything more

The path I chose isn’t straight and narrow
It wanders around like a drunken fellow
Some days it’s hard for me to follow
But if you’ve got my back I’ll go on.
If you’ve got my back I’ll go on.

If Ever I Stray by Frank Turner

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I’m so vain…..

You know, there’s nothing quite like looking back through the photo album to help you realise how far you’ve come. This photo was taken in January 2008, back when I was still trying to be girly, was considerably heavier than I am now, and had the self-image and self-confidence of a fava bean.

I have tried to recreate the pose, Heat magazine style, to allow comparisons. Please note I am wearing the same hoodie three years on. An old friend did once accuse me of hoarding crappy old clothes. Well, they feel nice.

Without sounding too self-pitying, I have never, ever felt attractive. I have not, for most of my life, caught glimpses of myself in the mirror and given myself a mental thumbs-up. I did not, until very recently, feel sexually attractive. If ever I have been paid any sort of attention, it’s always caught me completely by surprise. To this day I have absolutely no idea how my partner can be attracted to me physically. And that’s not false modesty, or fishing for compliments. When you have an appallingly low body image, it doesn’t matter how many times you’re told you’re sexy or attractive, it doesn’t get past your self-imposed filters. On the funny side, I am completely oblivious to flirting, which has caused some confusion in the past. I don’t spot flirts, however outrageous they’re being, because I can’t imagine that anyone would ever want to flirt with me. I just think they’re being nice. Hmmm.

None of this is helped by the simple fact that out of the *coughety-cough* people with whom I have shared intimate pleasures, only two actually initiated the relationship. I have always been the one to ask people out, and certainly never believed they took me up on the offer because of my body or looks. I’m pretty good at laughing people into bed – isn’t that often the case with people who don’t relate well to their own bodies? I’m also pretty nifty at cooking people into bed – I can cook up a storm, and who can resist after being softened up with a three course meal and a bottle of wine? Alcohol is a great leveller, and one of the reasons I don’t drink very much these days is the memory of self-hatred that often comes along with getting physical when neither of you was as in control as you should have been. Not good for the pride.

Now, don’t get me wrong – even in my most self-loathing moments, I know that I have bits that’re ok. I like my eyes, for instance. My mouth I used to hate, even as a child, with its soft, pouty, fleshy femininity. However, I’ve been told it’s one of my good bits, so I’m learning to like it. Whether it quite goes with my increasingly masculine appearance, only time will tell.

Recently I went to London, and was genuinely shocked at how many women gave me the hard eye. I don’t know about the men – my radar hasn’t re-attuned to them yet. Now I do get stared at a fair bit when out and about, because my transition is at the stage where people are trying to figure out whether I’m a girl or a boy. So all these women in London could have either been thinking “Wow, who is THAT gorgeous creature”, or “What the hell is THAT?”. I prefer to think the former. I was shocked that they were looking at me because I have only recently entertained the thought that I am attractive enough for people to want to look at. It made me feel pretty good, though a little scared.

Things are improving, slowly. Transition is necessarily a business that makes you think very hard about yourself. I’ve had to dig deeper into my own psyche than I’d really like, but overall my transition does mean that I am able to start seeing my body in a much more positive light. I still have a lot of my old issues, but as the testosterone changes my body, as I have changed the way I present myself to the world, and most important of all, since I started liking myself , it is as if I have given myself permission to be a confident, physical, sexual, attractive being.

Alongside my new found attractiveness, I still retain my ability to make others laugh, and my cooking skills are undiminished. So if ever I crack a joke and offer to cook you Chocolate Upside Down Pudding Cake, watch out….!

So, does that make you both straight now?

This is a question that my partner and I have been asked quite a few times now. Most people have asked with a degree of respect, others haven’t. One notably ex-friend asked my partner this in a message after she was told I was trans. It was the first thing she asked. Not ‘how are you both?’ or ‘is there anything I can do to support you?’, just ‘so, does that make you both straight now?’

Telling people I am transgender does seem to make them think that suddenly my sexuality is up for discussion. A lot of assumptions are made, based often on very old-fashioned ways of recognising and categorising gender and sexuality. Let’s face it, cisgender people can be gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer, or none of the above. So can transgender people. In the same way that this world really needs to come to terms with the fact that gender is not a binary, there has to be recognition that sexuality itself is not a neat package that can be easily labelled, and never changes.

Let’s rewind a little to look at my life. I grew up assuming I was heterosexual. I had no reason to think otherwise, and if I’m honest, I did not see myself in any sort of sexual context, so I went with the flow. I briefly came out as a lesbian in my late teens, after a couple of crushes on girls, then popped myself back in the closet because I was so afraid of being different that that seemed the best option. I slept with men, and married a man, but identified as bisexual, as that was the easiest way for me to acknowledge my continued feelings for women as well as being married. At 30, newly single, I came out as a lesbian (again!). I eschewed all ideas of men being attractive, and enjoyed living as a lover of women. I met my beautiful partner, fell hopelessly in love, and there I remain.

So that all rather begs the question, am I a straight man? Absolutely not. Yes, I am emotionally and sexually attracted to women, and am in a long-term relationship with a woman, but I refuse to identify as straight. I am transitioning because I feel far more masculine than feminine. I love and embrace the changes that testosterone, and identifying as a male have brought. I am the happiest I have ever been, but I cannot and will not be shoehorned into a category that does not fit. Straight-identified men, by my definition, are predominantly only attracted to women.

Long before I started taking male hormones, I realised that my previous understanding of both gender and sexuality had been blown out of the water. In order to identify as ‘straight’, I would have to accept very narrow definitions of gender. As someone who has come to realise that gender is fluid, the idea of being ‘straight’ becomes rather ridiculous. Because I cannot base my emotional and sexual attachments on Society’s definition of ‘man’ or woman’. It’s a real cliche these days to say ‘oh, I’m attracted to the person, not the gender’, but surely that should be the case for all of us? I find many women sexy and beautiful, I find many men sexy and beautiful, I find many transmen and transwomen sexy and beautiful. I find many people who don’t identify in any particular gender category sexy and beautiful. And that’s not the making-me-terribly-horny testosterone speaking – this has been my feeling for a long time, but as usual, I felt I had to conform to the ‘best fit’ I could find in my situation.

So how DO I identify sexually? I identify as queer. This is a word previously used pejoratively towards LGBT people, but now many of us use it as an umbrella term for those accepting of fluidity in both gender and sexuality. Which suits me very well, thank you!

What about my lesbian partner? I’ve asked her to contribute to this post, as it wouldn’t be fair to try and speak on her behalf. From a personal point of view, I know that she identifies very strongly as lesbian, so for me to make a song and dance about being ‘The Man’ in our relationship, forcing us both into new stereotypical roles would kill our love in a very short time. Over to Willemina:

1              How and when did you first identify as lesbian?

I didn’t know the word lesbian or that I was a lesbian, but I can remember from about the age of 8 or 9 having feelings which were different. Looking back on experiences and feelings I can remember clearly, it was obvious but I didn’t know then. When I was 12, I had my first crush (that I can remember) but I didn’t tell anybody. I tried to be a ‘normal’ teenager and I never told anybody, not even my close friends, about my feelings and thoughts. I ‘came out’ in dribs and drabs. To some friends when I was 19, and then to my parents. It felt good to come out. Finally everything made sense. I know that Mark gets exasperated with me because I forever have the worry that I am not a proper lesbian, or that I am not lesbian enough. This is how I feel but I know in my heart of hearts it isn’t true.

2          What do you think of the popular question “How do you know you’re a lesbian if you’ve never been with a man?”

I find this type of question offensive and intrusive. Nobody has to take a test. Nobody has the right to ask me this question. I can’t remember ever asking anybody how do they know if they are straight. I just know I am a lesbian. Why do I need to have sex with a biological man? I don’t worry about who knows better than me because only I know me best. I don’t have to have sex to know what my sexuality is because it’s how I feel about people, not a list of people I’ve had sex with.

3              Is being lesbian more than just sexual preference to you?

Yes. I don’t know what it is, but my whole experience and feelings and emotions are lesbian. It’s not just about sexual preference, although that is at the core, but along with that come other aspects. I love being out and proud and feeling a part of a large community who share something. Lesbians approach life at a different angle. Yes, that’s a sweeping generalization but I feel it is 99% true, in my experience.

4          Are you concerned that people will see you as straight as Mark transitions?

Honestly – yes. I can’t understand why people would suddenly assume I am straight. Society is still in a place where that is seen as the ‘norm’. And most of the time, it isn’t. We are still a willingly blind society/culture. Open your eyes and see that everybody is different and live their lives different and nothing is ever what it may seem. I am not, and have never been and never will be, straight. That is not me. It will make me angry, upset and feel like shit if people see me as straight but this is due to a number of insecurities I have about myself. I know that I place a large importance on how people see me and how I come across at any time. I am a highly insecure person, and unfortunately this is an aspect which I am finding difficult to come to terms with. This is something I will definitely be working through with my therapist ;p

5              Have your feelings towards Mark changed due to his transition?

I honestly and truly don’t know. I feel our relationship has shifted in a good way as Mark emotionally and physically transitions. With more than 6 years together, we are constantly evolving and changing. Together. Neither he nor I are the same people from when we first met. And that applies to everybody in the world. People are not stagnant beings. I love him more every day, and I love the way he is changing. It’s like watching a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. At first, I was confused and scared and had absolutely no idea how I was going to be with him and cope with the transition. It has initiated many discussions and thoughts I haven’t had before and, at first, didn’t know how to deal with. We just keep talking and talking and I am now embracing my new feelings and ideas, and I am actually happy with that. When it is just me and Mark, I feel safe and happy. When we are with people who we know and who understand, I feel safe and happy. When we have to deal with the larger world, I feel insecure and sad and confused. However, I have never had those feelings when I think of Mark, or when I am with Mark. With him, I am truly, truly happy. But when his transitioning started, this happiness did not happen overnight. Like I said, I had to work and am still working through things.

6          How are you coping as Mark’s body becomes more masculine?

He looks better. He knows this and I freely tell him this. He just looks, and moves, right. And he definitely still does it for me. His body is becoming more masculine, but differently. I can’t put my finger on it. I guess I do have a thing for sporty, muscular types, and I’m getting that from Mark. It’s odd seeing his body developing muscle and becoming streamlined without making daily trips to the gym! Although I’m not into biological men, I am actually enjoying the changes to Mark’s body. He is now exuding confidence in his body and I find that sexy.

7          Do you ever see yourself becoming the wife to his husband?

No, because I don’t wish to conform to stereotypes or what society expects of me. I became Mark’s civil partner because I wanted to declare my undying love for him in front of the most important people in my life. I wanted them to share a tiny fraction of the joy I feel inside by being with Mark. I wanted to make a very public statement, because I have felt sidelined for a lot of my life. I think because of how I present myself due to my insecurities, I rarely get taken seriously. I tend to make light of things. I therefore felt that having the civil partnership would solidify our relationship in other people’s eyes.

8          Does Mark’s transition make you straight?

Here are the facts: Yes, I am in love with him. Yes, I am in a relationship with him. But no, that doesn’t make me a straight woman. I am a lesbian and that doesn’t change.

I found this website which might be helpful… http://www.forge-forward.org/handouts/Transpositioned.html

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We are who we are – she a lesbian, me a queer transman, and for us, that works. We have to work hard, and talk harder, and re-learn each other’s bodies and responses, but ultimately I believe that when you can be honest with someone, and your tummy still goes funny when you see them, all is good.

A Mother called Mark

It’s Mother’s Day! Cue a long sweaty afternoon muscling through crowds of shoppers, trying to find a card amongst all the overpriced pink saccharin that isn’t a) vomit-inducing, b) disrespectful and demeaning or c) just plain rude. The flower stall on the market was transformed into a rugby scrum – no bunch too pricey! At least three shop assistants tried to sell me seashell-shaped confectionery at the till: what is it with the current trend for till-side selling, when all I want to do is pay and get the hell out, not ponder over cut-priced novelty chocolates?

Sorry. I really don’t like shopping, let alone at such an emotionally charged time of the year. We all know that Mother’s Day is just another opportunity for the retail machine to grind into action and make more money, but my little heart still goes a-flutter at the thought of a special day celebrating my role as a mother. I still have the cards my daughter made for me at nursery school, and even though she was trawling round the shops with me today looking most un-childlike in her mini-skirt, swinging a designer tote, I still like that she is buying me something special.

Some time ago, she asked me “Do you still want something on Mother’s Day? Or should I do Father’s Day stuff for you instead?” Though I laughed and told her to stick to Mother’s Day, I was mortified. The sensible part of me may know that I will never lose the specialness of being a mother, but the terribly scared part worries that as I transition, the core meaning of being a mother will be lost behind the perceived ridiculousness of a man being called Mum. The way the outside world sees me and perceives me is changing, and it is very hard to cement my role as a mother whilst also trying to define myself as a man.

My daughter has already given me my card – I haven’t opened it yet as Mother’s Day doesn’t start for another hour. The envelope is addressed to Mark. Both of us are clearly working hard to make the most of our redefined relationship. I hope that whatever craziness is yet to come in our lives, we will hold on to the silver thread that connects mother and daughter.

Glass half empty? Me?

In a few days I will hopefully be escaping finally from the clutches of Madame Oestrogen.

I have an appointment with my GP on Monday. In theory, all I need to do is take him the letter I have from my gender specialist, recommending testosterone, and the lovely doc will give me a prescription. In my fevered imagination, this process has taken on epic proportions, not least because I know that some FTMs in other parts of the country have had trouble persuading their doc to prescribe. So that’s fear number one.

There are so many positive things that I am looking forward to about starting hormone therapy. However, in my current limbo, I almost don’t want to talk about them in case I jinx the whole process. And this from someone who laughs at people who won’t stand on the cracks in the pavement. So today I am going to explore the dark side…

First fear, as I said, is not getting the hormones in the first place. Probably unfounded, but definitely the stuff of nightmares.

Second, I am scared that I may have a bad reaction to testosterone. It does happen, and some FTMs find themselves in the position of not being able to take the stuff they need the most. What do I do if my magic potion turns out to be toxic? There are many transmen out there who are “No Ho” (no hormone) for varying reasons. I take my hat off to them – I’m not sure I am that strong. It’s hard trying to live as a man without the effects of T to help sharpen and masculinise. After a relatively short period of ‘Real Life Experience’, I am thoroughly fed up with the searching looks and slip-ups. I’ll admit it, I simply want to pass as a bloke, and as Mother Nature hasn’t blessed me with a chiseled jaw and Brian Blessed voice, I need help.

Thirdly, but the most important, I am terrified of what transitioning will do to my relationship. I have a fine partner, who has supported me to the hilt, against all common sense, surely. We have talked and talked into the wee small hours about the what-ifs and maybes, but neither of us can even guess at how my physical and emotional changes will impact on our beautiful relationship. We embarked on our lives together as lesbians, and as tolerant and understanding as my honey is, I just don’t know how she will react to a small-ish, hairy-ish, testosteroney guy clambering into bed with her.

These are my main fears – they are sufficient to keep me awake at night, and only time will tell which are founded. I am the eternal worrywart, and a terrible pessimist. Next time I will try to look at the good stuff!