A little bio to start with by Stephanie Alyson Gravel

A little bio to start with

Well this is a first for me! I've never intentionnaly compose an article in english without thinking it in french first. I hope you'll forgive me if some sentences don't make much sense.

This article is to indroduce myself. I'm a 42 years old french canadian parent (biological father) of three absolutely marvellous children. Of course, I'm transgender! I made my coming out in the beginning of 2015. I know that I'm trans since my oldest memories. Being raise as a catholic, all of my life I denied my rights to be myself. I was too afraid of rejection or even worst; persecution. But none of theses happened in my case, of course I've lost 1 or 2 friends, but in a way they weren't worthy of me; they didn't like me in any other ways than being male. So, I guess, it was logical to loose them anyway.

As for my family...
Here in eastern Canada and particularly in Quebec, we stay together for years without thinking a single time of wedding. In fact, weddings are rapidly decreasing around here and I'd say that thoses who wed, are almost the exception now around here. It is so much simpler to seperate if you aren't married. In my case, I've been with my ex-girlfriend for almost 14 years. Our separation went very well, since we always were more friends than lovers. And, as you may have guessed, my gender dysphoria was a great part of it even if I tried very hard to suppress it. I was physically a very male man (almost a "bear type"). But my personnality, althought sometime impulsive and subject to depression (because I was denying my true self to exist), was in a way very female alike. When I say "female alike", I don't mean my talkings and mannerisms, I mean the way my brain is thinking. I was not as focus (A to B) like a "real" man (I know, I know there's always exceptions), I was gentle and always caring more about others than myself in a very mother alike way, except with a very male body.
How I was living
I raised my children myself by staying at home, like a traditionnal family woman does. Of course, there was some logical reasons to take this arrangement with my girlfriend at the time. We were in heavy and I mean very heavy home improvements and my father was slowly dying because of a very rare condition related with Alzheimer's disease which was called Benson's syndrom and I was his caregiver. So, my days where filled with manual work, childcare and with taking care of my father papers and other diverse duties. My father died in 2012 and it as been a huge relief; he wasn't suffering anymore and me neither by whatching him degrading is everyway. By september 2013, me and my girlfriend were separated, she kept the house I almost enterely rebuild and gave me my fare share of it. She's now with a great (very male type) guy. I'm also happy about it, because my children were very attached to this house builded by their father. We fairly negociated our seperation without any emotionnal vendetta. We've splitted everything 50/50 including our children's time share (They switch home every week, which is not very hard: we live about 5 mins walk from each other). It couldn't have been better and in that way I'm a very lucky woman!

My coming out
I'm a very sensitive person. So, I took little steps progessively before my coming out. But I did my coming like a lumberjack yells "timber" five seconds before the tree fall down. I did it on facebook! Yeah, I know... But most of my extended family were "friend" with me on fb and some lived very far from me. As expected, some were stunned: the guy went from a bear to a lady! Most of them were very accepting. Since both my parents are dead now, I feel like I have no obligation to maintain links with my extended family. So I got rid of most of my father's side of my family; they were to much traditional anyway and I kept most of my mother's family side.

My children
My children were raised by me. So, I'm a very open thinking person and of course I've raised them to be the same. Although, very traditional and in a way conservative, their mother's also very open minded. But, even with those favorables conditions, I was very anxious to do my coming out to my children. So, I preserved them as long as I could from my truth... That was just a waste of time! When I came out to them, there was no big deal. They just wanted for me to be happy and to be loved by me whatever I look like. It was such a relief and it's because of their acceptance that I'm here today!

What I do for a living?
I don't "earn" any money, which doesn't mean that I'm not working. This is the hardest part of my coming out/transition. Since I don't have any "usable" diploma combined with the way I look (Now, I'm somewhere in between...) I'm out of work. I'm living on my own bank money without any support from the governement other than a small childcare support which is split 50/50 with my children's mother. This is THE PART of my life which is causing me to be anxious about money and about my futur. While at home, I'm not loosing my time; I'm writing a lot. Most of my work is in french. I'm maintening two blogs (which can easily be translated in any language by the google translation) and I also write novels and fictional stories.
Well I'll stop here for now. I just wanted to introduce myself and share with you how I'm living my transition until now. I'll probably send more texts in a very near future.

~Stephanie Alyson Gravel

The Disturbed by Thomas A. Price

The Disturbed

By. Thomas A. Price

I was born on April 28th 1999 in Evansville IN i was a emergency c section i was born 3 months early i was due.

July 28th 1999 but that didn't happen i was a miracle child but when i was growing up i felt different like i was trapped i hated girly things and Barbie's my days inquired torturing them i realized not only was i in the the wrong body i was becoming a psychopath because of it.

By the time I started middle school i was being bullied being called trashy white girl the end of my sixth grade year i got punched beaten up by severally people during the last ten days of school.

At first i thought i was gay then in February of 2015 i cut my hair short and told my mom i was gay but during the summer i realized i was transgender i found several coping skills and i grew to love the saw movies this is only the beginning of my story.

Sincerely Thomas A. Price

I was born in Southern California in the dead of winter of 1978

Written by Rose Kincade
Age: 37
Bloomington, Indiana
MtF Transwoman.

I was born in Southern California in the dead of winter of 1978 and given the mane John after my father’s older brother that he looked up to. As I grew up I wanted to play with toys that were meant for girls and in kindergarten I made friends with girls rather than boys, but my dad always insisted I be a boy, make friends with boys and learn to enjoy boy toys, so I tried to do just that.

I have heard that if you hear something enough, even tell yourself enough times that you begin to believe it yourself. Growing up my dad reinforced his ideas of me being a boy by taking me to his work (being a deiseal mechanic) to try and get me to like it. My sister who wanted to go always felt left out while I felt as though I was being tortured. I did not like getting dirty and hated my time working on trucks.

When I was 11 or 12 I started keeping a dream diary because I thought my dreams would answer questions I had. I noticed that I was female in many of my dreams and wondered why. It was also about this time that I knew that I wanted to one day give birth to my children but my body was changing in the wrong direction. I can remember sitting on my bed for hours at a time meditating, trying to force my body to be female. I would pray every night to wake up with a female body. I would even try hard to see my body physically change in my mind’s eye but nothing I did ever did anything, at least nothing I could see in the mirror.

I remember my parents bring home a movie called ‘Switch’ to watch with us. At the end of the movie I can remember how my dad talked about gays and lesbians being products of Satan and how they were all going to be going to hell when they died. I wanted to know about guys becoming women but did not know how to ask, but I saved the embarrassment of asking by my youngest sister. I still remember the words that flowed out of my dad’s mouth very clearly, “Those people are worse than gays, when they die their souls will be destroyed for destroying their bodies.”

For the next several years I forced myself to be male in every way possible, I suppressed any and all emotions, I went shooting with male friends, I road bikes in sporting events, and I even got mad that I was not growing facial hair. All of this in an attempt to force myself to be a man. But in 2001 all of these wants and desires came back in full force. I wanted children, I wanted to give birth to them and I could not see any way in making it happen.

I had been kicked out of our church because I was not what they wanted me to be, so I had been looking into other religions and none of them felt right, none of them had the answers I was looking for. At least until I came across a Wicca group that said they could help me. I had gone to several meetings and was very happy with what I was seeing. They practiced spells and showed me a few books and I felt confident that they could help be a woman, so I asked them for their help in that.

I was told it was not an issue and that they had just the spell for it but it was going to take some time for the preparations. As the night grew closer I was very excited that I would soon be a woman, at least until I got a phone call from someone I had made friends with in the group. He told me that the group was planning on killing me. He walked me through the plan of them leading me into the alter room and having me dress in women’s clothing, how they would lay me on the alter and do so chanting and then stab me through the heart.

I decided not to tell anyone again and decided it would be best to try and be the man everyone wanted me to be. I built and raced cars, went hunting with my brother-in-law and went fishing on a regular basis, none of which I really enjoyed. I continued like this for many years until my youngest sister suddenly died just ten days after giving birth to her third child.

I remember the day very clearly. I had gotten up that morning and was getting ready to go to work. My grandfather came walking up the hallway and told me that my mom had just called and told him someone had died. I asked him how had died and he told me she only said “She is died.” And that is all she could get out. I asked if I could go with him to see what was going on and was told to come on. We got to my little sisters house and found cops had blocked the street off and there was an ambulance in front of the house. We were allowed to drive up there and found it that the one had died was my baby sister.

I asked if anyone had told her husband and was told no one had been able to get through to him. I called the numbers I had and was getting the same thing and decided to call the company directly. When they answered the phone I asked if James was there and was told he was on delivery. I told them there was an emergency at his house and he needed to be get there ASAP to help out. I then called the place my mom and I both worked and told them neither of us going to be coming in do to my little sister having just been found dead in her home. The manager I was talking to asked me “are you sure neither of you can come in to work today?” This upset me and I snapped back “my little sister was just f*** found dead in her bed, no there is no f*** way either of us are coming in the next few days at least.”

A bunch more things happened over the next several hours and I pretended that I did not need to cry. I knew I was coming close to just fully braking down and walked away from finding a secluded place. I let myself breakdown for several minutes before forcing myself to pick myself up again and go back for the support of the rest of them. For the next few weeks everything was about my brother-in-law until I went back to work. It was at this time I met the mother of my baby girl who decided to abandon us just three months after she was born.

I spent the next six years focusing on this special little girl making sure she had everything she needed doing everything I could for her. I even moved to another city to get a job that provided housing for families and their family. It was here in the early part of 2012 that I had sudden depression leading to suicidal thoughts. I was directed to a therapist who talked with me for several months to try and find out what might have happened to cause this. We found out that I had feelings of never being accepted by my dad, and that I had issues for being so old when I finally had my daughter. But the real breakthrough came when I told him how I have always dreamed of being a woman, being a mother, and giving birth to my children.

From there he told me he knew that I had some choices to make, to either keep living as a guy suppressing my feelings or to accept them and work with them. He told me that people like had a name, transgender, and that there were many different levels or degrees to being transgender. I thought about all of this for several weeks and did lots of research on the subject discovering many things. I found websites dedicated to transwomen, stories that depicted men and women changing, forcibly and voluntarily, into the opposite gender. I learned the differences between what sex is and what gender is, and what most of the medical field seems to feel about trans people.

Now knowing that most of what I really wanted was not available to transwomen but I could make myself at least feel more comfortable being myself I decided to transition. I was sent to a doctor who had to do a bunch of blood work as well as a full physical. I was told that before I would be allowed to start HRT I had to tell my friends and family and explain what I was about to do and he was giving me until the end of the year or he would not sign off on me getting my HRT.

I told everyone else before I went to my parents. My mom told me that she had thought I was gay but had never once guessed I was transgender. The hardest one to tell was my father, mostly from the fear from all the stories I read about others fathers disowning them, beating them or worse. We were on the city to city transit bus when I decided to tell him. I explained how the feelings had been around for a long time and how this would help me feel more comfortable as a person. After I finished talking to him and he was able to think about what I had told him he did something that totally shocked me, he told me that if he had the money he would pay for my transition.

That December I was given my letter to be able to start HRT and by that spring I was one hundred percent full time. Most of the people around me accepted me with no problems including some that had started out hating me when I first moved to the town. However some tried very hard to cause problems. There was a guy a few miles away who called Child Protective Services, or CPS, on me and filled complaints against me. A case worker came to my house and sat with me to find out what was going on. He explained to me what was reported and why he was there and I explained who reported it and why. Because I was able to not only identify my accuser and his motive behind it, and because there was nothing wrong in my house, the law required the case to be closed as malicious and unsubstantiated.

The incident that caused me the most issue was a few months later when a guy came in to the store I was working at to buy beer after the 2am cutoff for the state. This was not unusual in any means by the fact that many people try this on a regular basis. What made this night so much worse was this was a guy I had never seen before but he knew not only about me but my parents who lived a few miles away and my daughter who happened to be at work with me that night and was hiding in the office as part of the request of my manager for her being allowed to be there that night. After I refused to sell him any beer he tried to beat me and told me he was going to go after my daughter and parents next. I called the police and my parents and told them what had just happened and within 20 minutes both were there and I knew I had to find a safer place to go.

Not knowing what I was going to find I asked my parents to take care of my baby while I went to find a safer place and soon found myself across the country in a city in Indiana. My hair was now long enough that I did not need the wigs to have long hair and soon I had a job and a place to live as a woman. Very few people knew my birth name and the only reason they did know was because of legal reasons. I was fighting to get enough income to be able to buy a house for my daughter and I when the company I was working closed. All the work I had put into making a life here was practically gone. With the exception to my name change I was back to square one, the same place I was when I first moved so far from my family. I was soon able to find a new job who does not know my other than a select few I know well enough and trust.

My endocrinologist signed the papers I needed to get my gender markers changed on my driver’s license and birth certificate just a few weeks ago now. I still want to have Gender Conforming Surgery as well as Facial Feminization Surgery and Vocal Feminization Surgery. I have decided on doctors for each based on quality, price and experience with the exception for FFS.

For GCS I have chosen a doctor in Thailand, Dr. Suporn, who has a one-step operation that gives one all the outward parts of a woman over the traditional two-step operation used by most. I am told by many of his past patients that he is able to leave one with a lot of sensation and some even have said they can still ejaculate. I know to some this sounds just wrong but for me many cis-women who have orgasmed with and without ejaculation said it feels better when they ejaculate.

For my VFS I have chosen Dr. Spiegel here in the US. He has developed a technique that seems to be able to work all the around the spectrum, and tends to leave no visible scars. I have talked with one of his patients and she sounds great, beyond that I am still waiting to hear back if anyone else is willing to talk to me.

Finding a doctor for FFS is proving to be hard. There are so many doctors out there with their own techniques, with their own successes and failures that it is proving hard to find one I really like. Dr. Spiegel has a technique I want for my forehead and eyes while Dr. Suporn has one I like for the lower jaw. However I have yet to find one that has one I like for the nose. I want my nose to be shaved so it is not as long and tall. I know what I want and I can see it in my mind’s eye but every time I try to draw it on my computer or on paper it comes out wrong.

Anyway, this is where I am today. I am 1700 miles away from my daughter and have not seen her since her birthday last year. I can’t afford to bring her home and I can’t afford to have the surgeries I want and need for myself. I am fighting very hard to fix my life, I have returned to school to go after my PhD to find a way to make it possible for trans men and women to be able to have a surgery to be able to have children as their real gender rather than as the one they were assigned at birth.

Thank you for reading and please note that this is an abridged version of my autobiography. There is a lot of information omitted here to try and keep this short. Again thank you for reading.
~Rose Kincade

VOLCANIC FEATHERS

VOLCANIC FEATHERS
Written By Kaye Iris Rinehart, Nov. 2015
Age: 69
California, USA
MtF

(This poem is dedicated to everyone who grew up with gender dysphoria: not just my friends but all of you)

{This poem uses a language device to show the prevalence of being transgender in all cultures. I use many words that are borrowed from Sanskrit, Japanese, Navajo, Cherokee, and others for the word Spirit/Soul. By Spirit/Soul I mean that part of humanity that has cognitive consciousness. If you see or hear a word that is unfamiliar it’s meaning is probably Soul/Spirit.)

The child was about to be born.
Jeeva in that Quantum Field of separate interconnectedness;
a Quantum feminine point instantly enters
this baby with that very first breath,
drifting in as soft as Forrest’s feather.
The Doctor say’s, “It’s a boy”
The Hwii’siziinii screams NOOOOOOOOOO! I’m female,
as it’s consciousness melds, blends with this child
as the two become one and
a new life begins,
as separateness becomes an integrated knot of potentiality,
with peacock colors.

The child starts to embrace its separateness
it’s uniqueness from those around it.
Recognition of mother, father, sister have brought
kaleidoscope patterns of thought,
whirling around the loci of individual reality.
She sees her baby sister
something is different,
an uneasiness stalks her on barbed crows feet.
My sister is different between her legs. Why?
She realizes that they call her sister a little girl but
they call her a little boy.
Mom says I will look just like dear old dad, but wait,
I don’t like those rough clothes he wears.

I like to watch Mom get dressed.
Watch as she
puts on her makeup. I mimic her and
pretend I’m doing it as well.
Atma is uneasy as the cawing talon makes
a small wound in expanding consciousness.

Mom and Dad talk about God. I don’t really understand God
they talk about praying,
to God, and
God will answer.
I close my eyes and deep within me I ask,
“God will you make me a little girl like my sister?
You know that is what I am. Please
give me a girls body”.

Like so many other little girls my communications skills
arrive very quickly. I have a fluid vocabulary,
I have started to read. I love talking and listening
to my mother and her friends.
My mom often hurts me as she tells me
“This is girl talk
go play with the other little boys.”

I asked for a doll like they gave my sister but
they gave me a ball and glove.
I have a teddy bear. I rock my bear.
I comfort my bear.
My bear is my little baby but the
Adonvdo whispers with a cold icy realization,
“You will never have a baby”.
Warm salty tears freeze against the cruel icy knowledge.
I am a boy. I can’t give birth.
I have no idea what that means
– to give birth -
but my eyes, my runny nose, my shivering,
remind me “You never will”.

For days I was confined to my bed.
They called it flu.
I knew without the proper words that the Ruh
deep within in me
had contacted a psychic fever.
That something had to give or my Linghun would splinter
like the vision within a vision
within that infinity of mirrors shattered by
the evil queen with her apple
thrown with such hatred and force,
shattering all those mirrors. I
have no chance to be the fairest of them all.

I decided I had to play a game. I watched
other boys to see how they acted,
acting,
playing a part,
became my pastime.
I learned to swagger and talk about the silly girls.
When the other guys said,
“I hate girls”. I would nod in agreement.
I became a great actor. My parents no longer
thought that I was a little sissyish.
But there were times,
cherished times of finding lost treasure with Long John Silver.
The family was gone and I was home alone.
The treasure was right there
I could handle it. I could feel it.
I could put on my sisters clothes.
For a short while the golden intensity of feeling
the clutching reality of Ame,
was balanced with the fear that the Admiralty would find me.
I would have to walk the plank.
Or dangle by my neck from the yardarm.

I grew into a young man. Went to college.
Dated and had sex with women.
I had many male friends but
my best friends were always women.
They talked about how easy it was to talk to me,
I wasn’t like other men.
They would ask for
fashion advice.
I just always knew what look they were going for,
I could help them be more Goth,
more punk, more glamorous,
more attractive to men.
I helped them find what they knew about themselves
that center that was truly them. I
just had a way of letting them make the decision but
they always said I was a genius.

I had dreams about some of my male friends.
I was a woman and they wanted me
their powerful desire was for my round, curvy body. I
felt them take me in their arms, I
felt myself getting wet wanting them so deeply, I
could feel them enter me…..
alas the dream would end. I
was still me. A boy.

I had gay friends and I cared for them deeply but
I was not interested in sex with them. I knew
I was really a woman and
I only wanted to be loved as a woman,
real satisfaction could only come in dreams.

I was in my forties. I had
a wife and a child. I was content. I
had all I had ever wanted, but
one day I was sitting on a ledge 7 stories up. The
volcano of my hidden Tamashi
erupted pouring hot lava over my happiness,
my wellbeing.
My very self exploded into volcanic ash and
I felt myself floating off into space,
knowing that this hot ash would dissipate and fall
becoming chilling rain and
the person I was would flow into the ocean
to freeze and solidify,
an iceberg,
losing all humanity.

My heart, my Alma,
my emotions were turning to stone.
I knew the clarity of approaching death and
I had only two choices
jump or
join that hookah-smoking caterpillar,
moving into a chrysalis stage
with hormone therapy,
with changes that
would destroy some relationships,
would change others,
and allow some new ones to form,
as I slowly transformed into a butterfly.

It was die or spread my wings.
I cried from frustration,
fear, and
the deep sharp overwhelming obsidian cruelty.

Then I jumped
spreading my wings,
blessing and thanking everyone who helped me soar.

To the Once and Sometimes Boy

To the Once and Sometimes Boy,

You have been my loyal protector for 23 years. You have uncomplainingly been the visage that the world expects to see of me and you've been my strongest supporter. Do you remember when I first crafted you? I do. Kindergarten. Do you remember Travis? *Sigh* Go ahead, cringe. I do; every time. I don’t remember what day it was, or even the month. I remember it was bitterly cold, though. Even in South Georgia. My hands were cold. I've always had terrible circulation in my hands and feet. I held Travis’ hand. I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to get my hand warm and he was my friend. I remember, even in Kindergarten how they called me gay and teased me mercilessly. Excluded me from everything. Beat me. And the teacher basically let it happen.

I want to tell you about what I remember from before I needed you. Before I fashioned you to be my guardian. I won’t lie and say that it was an easy time for me, because it wasn't. I didn't want to be a loner. No one wanted to be around me and so I contented myself with being alone. I read a lot. I remember I liked being with girls. Just in their presence was nice enough. I liked playing with them. I wish I had continued. You remember, I’m sure, when we tried to continue hanging out with the girls. We still have those scars. Behind the left ear? Long blonde hair and bizarre, unjustified anger. Glasses, maybe. It was a blur. But you protected me as best you could. There were six or eight of them, after all.

I’ve never said it before, but thank you.

I let you take control from day to day because it was very clear that I was not welcome in the world. And eventually, inexorably, you became me. It was you that got us in the gym every chance we could so we could get ripped and people would quit picking on us. It was you that turned us into a half-ass bodybuilder at the tender age of ten. It was you that broke that kid’s nose with an apple in a lunch bag (good shot, BTW). I always took you off, though, before I went to bed and at night, and I, an unnamed empress of nothing, danced alone in an empty ballroom until daylight. Is it any wonder that I cherish my sleep?

You were the version of me that my parents saw. They only ever knew you. They don’t think they know me and I don’t know if they could ever love me the way they love you. After all, you are their child far more than I ever was. You know what dad says, “Actions speak louder than words.” All they ever talk about with me is you. They are terrified of losing you. They think that you are me. Or rather, that this body we share belongs to you and that I am the mask. I have always been jealous of your relationship with them. Understand, though, this isn't about you, mom, and dad. This is about you and I.

We had some scary times in the Navy, didn't we? You, being without fear, lead us through it all. I couldn't have done it without you. Through the dark times, through the dangerous times, through the exciting times, you led us. Did you know that I spent my nights weeping? It’s not fair of me to say that I surrendered years of my life to you, but that society demanded you for years of my life. And I, an exiled nameless empress of nothing danced by starlight, with no one.

We grew old, it felt. You by day and nameless me by night. I spoke to God for us, since I am the real “us” and you are a mask I made to protect me. I spent so many nights begging for the pain to go away. One night still I hold dearly in my memory. It was the worst of times. There was no “best of times” to it. It was just awful. You listened to your obnoxious music (I got my revenge, though, didn't I?), spoke with that obnoxious swagger that was basically required to avoid getting gunwale-stomped, and Charissa… She had just broken up with us (she thought she was going out with you, which led to a conversation which offended me WAY more than she thinks it did. What can I say, I've always had a soft spot for her and the trouble with opening up is that people can hurt you). I just wanted to fade away. It all meant nothing. That night, God cradled me in His hand and comforted me. I've never felt so close to Him. I wept so much. I don’t think there were words, but definitely a feeling. “Don’t give up, child.” “Child.” There was no name. I don’t know if that was significant, but it felt like it to me.

I do have to credit you this: you got us Samantha. Bravo. Also, I'll never forgive you for that. But, as miserable as she made us, I have to say that there were some wonderful times as well. And I wouldn't trade them for anything. There is almost nothing I wouldn't give to get back the times we had in Miami. That’s where I first really, genuinely began to refine myself into an actual identity. I, the unnamed empress of nothing began to tire of her starlight exile. It took 20 years, but I finally accepted what I had known all along: I am not you. I am not a man.

But I let you have it for a long time following that. After all, you got us Samantha. She was interested in you. Oh, the irony there… If I had known that she would have been just as interested in me… But speculating on an alternate past is silly. What’s done is done. But it was your persona that pushed us into the Coast Guard. If you’ll recall, I opposed the idea of going back in. Strongly. But jobs were scarce and this is the only one we could find, so… It really suited you, being a coast guardsman. Remember the Guardian Ethos?

I am America’s Maritime Guardian

I serve the citizens of the United States

I will protect them

I will defend them

I will save them

I am their shield

For them I am Semper Paratus

And so on…

It’s SO you. It always has been. That is your raison d’etre. You were made to protect me. To defend me. To save me. It comes naturally to you. And, having been a part of me for so long, it comes naturally to me as well, the compulsion to protect. Well… The Guard had other plans. We never fit in there. We were too used to being on the Navy’s war footing. Then we were no longer war fighters. We didn't like the Coast Guard’s way of doing things, so we tried to streamline the processes. And in doing so, we pissed a lot of people off. But we didn't deserve what happened next.

The world ended in fire and ruin all around us and all we could do was watch. I made your job very hard in this time. I sobbed uncontrollably, sometimes at work. We lost everything. We didn't just hit bottom, we punched a 65-foot deep crater in the bottom.

If you know nothing else about that time, know this: YOU DID NOT FAIL ME. You've never failed me. But the world that we had worked so hard to build was now smoldering rubble at our feet. There was nothing left here for us. There was nowhere to go but up. So I decided that the nameless empress shall be nameless no more. That I should retake the domain which is my birthright, my own life. And I would be faceless no more. I had less and less need of you and so I took some of my life back. And I realized that I had been silent and nameless and faceless for too long.

It’s not that I don’t need you. The world is a dangerous place for people like me. And it’s not that you've out served your purpose. I’m sure I’ll have to call on your strength once or twice yet in my life. It’s not even that I don’t want you. God, life would be so much easier if I could just be you all the time.

It’s that I can’t let you stay. This is my life and you, a fiction created to protect me from the world, have been living it for me. I can’t let that continue. I missed my own childhood. I gave you my parents. I let you live my best years for me. I have no past but the night, and I can’t let my life pass by in this way: in the stewardship of a fiction.

I got the idea to write this from a video I saw on the internet the other day. The man was reciting a poem he wrote, a letter to the girl he used to be. He ended it with a poignant line that brought tears to my eyes:

“P.S. I never hated you.”

That's a wonderful sentiment. I want to say that to you, but I fear that it’s not true. Like dad says, “Actions speak louder than words.” All the agonized time spent staring in the mirror, looking at you looking back at me, trying to see myself through your ridiculous jawline, your awful chin, your powerful neck… Failing to look past the hair growing on our face like a Lovecraftian blight and despairing, all the hours spent and the pain I’ve put us through trying to shape you into something that resembles me… I could say “I never hated you” until I’m blue in the face, but the words don’t really match the evidence, do they?

I never actively hated you, but I tried to change you into something I didn't hate, and isn't that the same thing? So here is my gratitude and my apology: I’ll put you in a box and keep a special place for you in my heart. I’ll never forget you and I’ll always be strong because of you. Go to your well-deserved rest, now your watch has ended.

Love,
Sophia

P.S. For what it's worth, I never meant to hate you.

Written by
Sophia-Helene Mees de Tricht

My bio. I'm 31, a student after ten years in the military, and a rocket scientist. I live in Florida (oh, so temporarily), and I'm a transgender woman. I don't really like the whole MTF/FTM scheme because at the end of the day, that's about genitals and I don't let them define me in any sense. I wrote TTOASB in March of 2014, I think.

I wake up in the morning.

I wake up in the morning.
Things are going well until I sit up, that's when I feel the weight on my chest come back again.

literally.

I put on my binders first, but I still know THEY are still there.
Then I go to school.
Getting misgendered all day.

"She, she, she, she" its enough to drive someone to tears. Why call me my preferred name then call me 'she'?

Don't humor me if you aren't going to be sincere.

Finally, I come home. If my dads in a bad mood its condescending comments and remarks that hurt, such favorites as:
-"You. Are. A. Girl"
-"I want to call you (dead name), don't ask stupid questions if you don't want honest answers"
-"Why are you dressed like that?"
-(In a store) "why don't we go to the girls section for your clothes?" *stares at him, hurt and confused, mutters to him 'why are you doing this to me?'*

I spend so much time on the internet because that's the only place where people truly get me. I can escape the aggressive comments and hurtful remarks. I can truly be me.

But who am I to say who I am anyway?
Thank god you are around to tell me how to live my life.
Thank you for being sure that a student almost in college, feels doubt about making his own life decisions.
Perfect.

~Zach, FTM

When I came out as transgender in the cold days of early December

When I came out as transgender in the cold days of early December of 2014, I was afraid. I was always afraid, yet, I still was able to muster up a bit of courage to randomly blurt out to my mom that I was transgender, and, that I wanted to start hormones. Let me rewind a bit, back to my youth. I always felt something was off about me, something, that set me apart from the other kids. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but, I always felt more at ease playing with the girls back in pre-school and elementary schools, rather than the boys. I was never too interested into playing tag and everything else little boys did roughly back then when messing around, but, instead, I just drew, or, played Pokémon on my Game Boy Color. Even back then, I always insisted that I was a girl whenever I would meet new kids on the playground, and they just went with it; the name I used back then was always Sarah. That was all fine and dandy until my family had to move for the 5th time, and, with this new school they didn’t tolerate me presenting as female, but, instead, gave me a week detention for “disruption of class” when introducing myself as Sarah to the new class of students, and, persisting it for the first few days I was there. A week detention for an elementary school kid just for being themselves. That’s what drove me back, drove me into depression, even at such a young age.

You see, for little me, that was a crippling experience, one that shattered my entire reality. I was devastated, and, just built up a façade, pushing myself deeper and deeper into the recesses of my own mind, never truly smiling, never truly doing anything I wanted to ever do, or, behave the way I wanted. I hated myself for not being able to wear the cute dresses that all the other girls in my class wore. I hated myself for not being able to play with the girls during gym. I always felt out of place, out of touch, wherever they put me that wasn’t with the other girls. For years, till I became fifteen, I didn’t know who I was, what I was, if I was sane or not. It shouldn’t be normal for someone to wonder if they are crazy as a kid and into their preteen years, but, I did, until that one fateful day, I was doing some research for an essay I was writing for Freshman year of high school, when, somehow, someway, I found an article about transgender issues. I was intrigued, curious, so, I did more research into what being transgender was, and, after a good hour of the gears ticking in my mind, I had my eureka moment. I wasn’t alone, I wasn’t crazy, I was transgender, and, most importantly, I was right. I was a young woman, even though the world tried to tell me I was wrong, and, practically forced me into my own inner isolation cell within my mind. Of course, this whole new sense of clarity came with even more concerns, even more pain than I could deal with.

Now that I knew myself, I still couldn’t show it. For a fifteen year old who was deluded into thinking being yourself was wrong, I became afraid of how society would treat me, that I’d become homeless, abused, bullied even worse than I already was. I was afraid of being called a freak, the t-word, and almost anything else imaginable. Worse than that, the pain of keeping the façade up, despite knowing it was there now, was even worse than building it without realizing it. So, I made three attempts on my life, three attempts that, luckily now, failed. After that point, I turned to the still growing internet support groups and roleplay groups so that I could express myself, and learn more about myself so that whenever the day finally came that I could be me, I was ready. I got even more addicted to gaming than I already was, and, even let my grades suffer a bit for a year. Seeing as I didn’t want anybody to explore my browser history at home, I did most of all the support grouping at school, during lunch, or, even after school whilst doing homework in the library. I had a thing going on, a flow, and, was starting to feel even the slightest sense of normality whilst online, well, until third semester of junior year.

While doing an essay for something in history, and switching back and forth between tabs on the computer, an upperclassman, and, jock on the football team happened to catch his eyes on my support group, and, probably put two and two together with my awkward “male” personality, and, that I was transgender together somehow. Like, I mean that even though I had the wall of my old name, I was still never quite masculine, but, at the same time, I still dated exclusively other girls. I didn’t know he targeted me until it was time to wait outside for the late bus that took the kids that stayed after school home. He approached me, asked me to follow him to the nearby woods, so that no camera could see what went down next. He made an ultimatum to me, either I’d be his “bitch” for a school week, same time, after school, or, else he’d out me to the entire school. I was afraid, I didn’t want this, but, at the same time, the fear of being outed when I wasn’t ready was much worse at the time. He had me in a catch 22 with myself as well, if I didn’t do it, I would be outed, and, if I complied and filed for rape, I would’ve outed myself. Those five days became complete Hell for me, and even damaged both my psyche and my internal organs permanently. I went back into my shell, deeper this time.

I stayed in that shell till I turned twenty, when I found out a different upperclassman, two years my senior, came out, and started her transition. At that time, we weren’t really friends in high school at all, even though I did know her through band, but, none-the-less, I supported her, and, offered friendship through the difficult times of first starting her transistion. Little did I know, this would be the falling brick that made the wall crumble. We made a date to hang out, and reflect upon the past a bit, and giggle about how silly it was that she didn’t like me back then due to me being an awkward sophomore while she was a senior. She found it funny that despite some of the things she said to be back then didn’t affect that I was willing to have a friendship now. With her help, I rediscovered myself, Sarah, for the third, and final time, and, was on a path that couldn’t be stopped. I was on the road to becoming myself. So, I came out originally in early February of 2014, having a small setback, seeing as my mom was confused, and that I only came out to her and one cousin, with a tiny bit of confusion and dismay. I went back into the closet halfway till I let them figure things out, and was only going to stay that way for a month, and whether they approved or not, I was starting. Until twenty days later I got hit by a truck, nearly died, and, had to do physical therapy for nine grueling months that I couldn’t take my hormones, but, a week after the last appointment, I found the courage to come out for the final time. I just blurted these words, “Remember what I told you earlier this year? Well, I’m doing it, whether you accept me as your daughter or not.” I braced myself for the worst, on the edge of tears, until, my mom simply asked, “So, when are you gonna make your appointment?” I was flabbergasted, but, happy. A month later, on the 16th of January, 2015, I took my first dose of estrogen in the form of estradiol, and never looked back.

~Sarah Anne Orsini