UPDATE: There’s now an edited version of this post online at the Huffington Post, which you can find here. This is the original unedited version, but they’re essentially the same article.
It took years to believe I was “trans enough” to call myself transgender. That’s not even an unusual story when it comes to the trans community, I know plenty of people who struggled in the same way.
Today I feel comfortable and confident saying I am a trans woman, but that wasn’t a conclusion I could reach on my own. It’s intimidating to walk into a clubhouse unless someone invites you in first.
I’ve been thinking about this all day because a story came out this morning that a trans woman is trying to police someone else’s gender, accusing them of not being “trans enough” to be transgender. I’m not going to bother linking to the story because they don’t deserve more attention. But I also want to distance what I’m saying as being just a response to that specific instance, because what I want to say now is about the sentiment behind what she said, something that affected me for years and certainly continues to affect people today.
If you’re asking yourself ‘Am I transgender?’ then this next part is for you:
Yeah, I have HRT now. That’s a thing.
Nope, I’ve still not been seen by the GIC once. If anyone is worried I’m self-medding then I’m happy to confirm I’m not. I went private, meaning it wasn’t cheap but it wasn’t anywhere near as pricey as I had worried it would be either. But I have a doctor watching my back, which is worth the cost.
I won’t bore you with the details of what the appointments entailed and what I did to get here, but if any fellow UK trans folk are wanting to know about the route I took, then feel free to send me a message on Twitter and I’ll elaborate for you.
I feel like I should have had some bombastic celebration or dramatic speech ready about what it feels like to finally have HRT, but in reality it was a bit of a non-event. I chose patches and pills, rather than two sets of pills, and so far life is continuing as normal. I change the patches every 3-4 days, I pop a pill every morning, otherwise I’ve not thought about it too much… Read More
So I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about employment again. I say “thinking” when what I really mean is “fretting”, or perhaps “stressing”.
I am perhaps the most indecisive person on the entire planet and so far that’s made transition extra complicated, as almost every step has been met with me analysing the crap out of the situation. So now that I’m having to think about employment opportunities again, I’m back to going back and forth over what to do.
This last year I’ve worked from home, which has worked out okay. I say ‘okay’ because some months have given plenty to do while others have left me very light on work, and therefore light on cash. Although I did apply for the odd job here and there I was mostly content to stick to what I was doing, as it also meant I could take care of my partner better, who especially needed me around last year.
It’s reached the point now where I have two choices on how to pursue employment, and both are tightly intertwined with transition. Read More