Man up! Movember versus Decembeaver.

I always have a bunch of tabs open in my browser. I keep some tabs because they are articles I still want to read or a video I want to watch, or because I want to write something on that topic, like the next two video links:

I have had them open for almost 2 weeks now and I have been thinking about what it was really that bothered me so much about decembeaver. Even if it is a joke to raise awareness for Movember I know there will be a lot of people who will take it seriously. I mean, there are people who thought they had really found mermaids.

And then I found this link:

And that's when it hit me. I realized what this was about: male emancipation. There is such a thing? Well, there should be. We're working on it, but it's a very slow process. The reason being that most people think we don't need it. People think that men have always been the dominant, and therefor privileged, gender. We are supposed to be the stronger sex. But are we? Do we not bleed if you cut us? Why yes, we actually do. We do have feeling and we do get hurt but we are not allowed to express that. Showing sign of weakness means you are not a real man. The pressure is huge and depression among men is much more common then people think. Men are not likely to get help because this means admitting you are weak. Even admitting this to yourself is a huge challenge for most.

The ironic thing about humans is that they invented the word inhumane. It applies to humans only. Animals are not inhumane. They are simply animals. But humans are capable of cruelty beyond compare. In the meantime there is a quality that is widely spread in the animal kingdom. It's called compassion. It's quite an amazing thing. What you do is you protect and support an individual that is weaker then you are. I'm pretty sure people are capable of it too. They call it acting humane then. It's pretty much the opposite of bullying. Pretty cool huh? But what do men get when they show weakness? They are told to Man Up! And with that they are denied compassion, something I believe to be a primal need for a social species like ours.

The reason why I like the Movember movement so much is that it shows men that it is okay to talk about their health in a way that wasn't possible before. Admitting there are serious health risks in men's lives is admitting that men are not untouchable. That they do have weakness and they do need to be cared for, by themselves and by others. This is a huge step. Even the way Movember came into existence is a clear example of how difficult it is for men to talk about these kind of things. Prostate cancer kills about just as many men as breast cancer kills women and not a single man has had (excuse the pun) the balls to stand up and battle this publicly, raising awareness and creating support. Because men's illness is something you don't talk about. But now we finally do. About bloody time.

And then what happens? Ladies, don't get me wrong. I'm totally okay with you not shaving what ever part of your body you want to. I really don't care. But this counter move pisses me off. Men finally have something that helps them talk about serious life and death issues and it is trivialized by making it about growing hair in a place you don't like. The mustache is becoming a symbol for men's health. We are finally able to talk about these things and you are making us feel stupid by saying: oh we can grow hair too if we want. Let us have this! We need this. And you can say men already run the world and we owe you but this is serious. We are talking about human lives here that are at risk. Show some respect, please. If you want to grow hair somewhere, by all means, go ahead. It's your body and you can do with it what ever you want. Just let us have Movember.

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So how is the transition coming along then?

Well, there is good news and there is bad news. The good news is that, according to my therapist, I should be able to get surgery in spring 2014. The bad news is that my insurance company claims they won't cover it unless I get it done at the VUmc. This would mean an extra year on the waiting list. And that is not an option. Why? Because it just isn't. I'm going mental as it is. Waiting 5 or 6 months seems like an eternity already. Waiting an extra year feels like a life time. What am I supposed to do all that time? Sit at home and twiddle my thumbs? Once I have had the surgery I can start building my life again. I can move on. As long as I haven't had it my whole life is about my gender. And it sucks. I know a lot of people think this is a very exciting time but it's not. Mostly it just sucks.

There are good days when I look in the mirror and think I am starting to look like me. There are bad days when I feel like throwing up while I'm not even looking. The more I am getting to terms with being a guy, the less I like my body. I used to really hate my body and had anorexia for years but that was just a general 'I hate myself and wish I didn't exist' kind of thing. Now it is much more focused. I know very well what it is about my body that is wrong. Before I had been able to pinpoint the problem the hatred was more defused and aimed at my body and myself in broader terms. I wasn't sure what was wrong so I figured if I make everything go away I must be hitting the right spot at some point. But now I do know what is wrong and I know how to fix it. But they won't let me. I spent most of my twenties as a mental patient trying to figure this out and now I finally have the answer they tell me I have to wait. I really can't.

Some people say: but it's the inside that matters, right? It's not about how you look, it's about how you feel. That's nice. That's really nice. But it's also completely useless when it comes to this. We all know that the way you look influences the way you feel. Much more then we would like to admit. And every time I am confronted with my body (read my boobs) I feel horrible. This doesn't just happen in the shower. It is constantly there. Binders are uncomfortable to say the least. They restrain you in your movement, your breathing, and are a constant reminder of the fact that you are hiding a part of you that is not supposed to be there. I hate wearing binders and at home I sometimes don't because feeling the binder can sometimes be worse then wearing a tight shirt to keep things in place with a wide vest over it so I don't have to see the shape. Having them there just feels wrong. I have this voice in the back of my head telling me that I'm not really a man, just look at my chest. That's just wrong. No way I could ever expect to be a real man looking like that. What on earth am I thinking? I want to be a boy? Really? What an absurd idea. I must be insane. It simply can not be done. I have carried this voice with me for about 30 years now. And I need it to shut up. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to vomit. It makes me want to shred myself to pieces. I can't wait an extra year for surgery. I need to get out of this cage and set myself free.

I will find a way to get my insurance to cover for the surgery and if they really won't I can switch in January. If no insurance company  will take me because of this I'll find another way to get it done. I only need about 40,000 euro's or so. Anybody want to buy a painting?

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Can I keep donating blood?

A few days ago I came across this video:

This morning I went to the blood bank to donate plasma. Every time you donate you have to fill out a form, checking yes or no for a bunch of questions. Among those questions are: for men: have you ever had sex with another man? And for women: in the past 12 months, have you had sex with a man who has ever had sex with another man? As you can see the idea that "gay blood" still has a higher risk of being contaminated still lingers in The Netherlands as well. The Dutch LGBT rights organization, the COC, asked questions about this to our government and they are currently debating the issue. They have been for about 7 years now. When asked for an update on this we get  a general reply of: we're working on it, it takes time. Latest news I could find was from november 2012.

Personally, I don't think this should be much of an issue. The risks of gay or bisexual men are close to the same here as for straight people. And even if you are taking risks, the screening fro the blood is very good these days and if there is something wrong the chances that they will notice are close to 100% now. About 8% of the population is gay. I know a lot of gay men who are willing to donate blood. And there is always a shortage. Why not allow them to donate? Do you really care who's blood it is when you are dying? Would you rather die then get a gay man's blood?

As a female to male transgender, I seem to have a bit of a problem though. Which box do I tick? Right now I am still officially registered as female at the blood bank but at some point that will change. What do I do then? If they still ask those questions by then, and they probably will, I will suddenly no longer be allowed to donate. Nothing has changed. At least, my official gender will have changed. But none of my actions will have changed. I am not at a greater risk of getting AIDS. Actually I'm not dating anyone right now but I have had sex with men in the past. And the form says: have you EVER had sex with a man. And yes, I have. So officially, I'm not allowed to donate. This makes me rather angry. I'm trying to help. I'm trying to save peoples lives. And because I am being myself I am suddenly no longer allowed to do that. It's a very strange world we live in. However, I will continue to donate for as long as I can and I encourage others to do the same. You never know when you or a loved one will be on the receiving end.

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How to look like me?

I have been reading a book a friend of mine gave me for my birthday. It's a book by a fashion photographer. The book contains photo's of people he met on the street that fascinated him because they had style. I started reading it because I thought maybe I could find something in there that I would like and could adopt. Going through a transition like I do, going from girl to boy, is a bit of a rude awakening. You get stripped down to the core and then you're left standing there and you have to figure everything out all over again. Who am I? Who is that person looking back at me in the mirror? I had hoped this book would give me some ground rules as to what a guy is supposed to look like.

Just to be clear, 99% of the book consists of photographs. I still call it reading though. It's a much more universal language. And what those photo's were telling me was: there are no rules. You can wear anything you like as long as you own it, as long as it's you. Initially that really pissed me off. I had hoped to find some sort of starting point, a clue as for what to do, where to start or something to aim for. Later I realized I was looking for someone who looked like me. I looked at every picture thinking: is this me? And every time the answer was the same: no. Why? because there is only one person that looks like me and that is me. Or at least, there should be one person who looks like me. And that's the problem. Because when I look in the mirror I don't see me. Not yet anyway. I had been looking for a shortcut. But in life there are no shortcuts. Everything worth doing is worth doing right and the only way to do this right is by taking the long road, the road I haven't traveled yet.

There is a rule though. Just one. It's very simple, very basic and it's the trick all those people in those pictures probably used. You can wear anything as long as it's you. So that means you should only have items of clothing in your closet that you really like, that are really you. Then you can walk in there blindfolded and come out looking fantastic because what ever you pull on is you. I recently dumped two garbage bags of clothing but my closet isn't empty by far. But when I take a good look at it, if I would have to pick out the items I really like, that I really feel comfortable in, that make me feel good about myself, I come up with one shirt and a pair of jeans. That's all. Okay, maybe a handful of sleeveless shirts but that's it. So what do I do? The fact that I still have boobs (or moobs really) doesn't help with the way I feel about how I look. I'm hoping things will get better once I have had my surgery but that doesn't change the fact that I still don't look like me in most of the clothes I own. I mentioned to a friend last night that I'd rather own 5 shirts that I feel comfortable in then 20 that I don't like. So maybe I should stick to my word and actually just wear the few clothes that I do like or at least throw out the stuff that makes me feel silly when I wear it. I wonder how many people actually do that. Just wear what they really like instead of just wearing what they are used to for what ever reason. Clothing is such a huge part of your identity. So much more then most people realize. I'm really curious about how I will look a year from now, after the surgery and once I have found some money to buy some new clothes. I can't wait.

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This is harder then I thought.

This is harder then I thought. I figured I'm fit and healthy and have everything pretty much sorted out. This whole transition thing should be a walk in the park. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Physically things really are a lot harder then I had expected. The fluctuations in my hormones the last 5 months have taken their toll and my reserves are pretty much gone. At some point, something has got to give. I have been dog tired for about a month now and I can't wait to make it through a day without falling asleep on the sofa. My strength, recovery speed and energy are all at an amazing low. My body constantly aches and I feel ill. Sure, I'm getting hairy, but that's about it right now. I do yoga every day which helps a bit. And I try to go to a BodyPump class 3 times a week but it's frustrating as hell. I have cut most of my weights in half and I still barely make it through the hour. By the time we get to track 8 I feel like throwing up. Doing nothing would drive me insane though. Hopefully things will slowly get better every time. Patience is a virtue.

I know I had already decided to quit teaching at the gym before my body flipped me the bird but being forced like this is very frustrating. It means I didn't get the change to say goodbye and close the chapter properly. Now it's still lingering in the back of my head. I'm finding it harder to let this go then I had expected. But maybe it's because right now I have to let go of a lot of things. Last weekend the Trans*-café had organized a clothing exchange. A lot of trans people find the need to change a huge chunk of their wardrobe all at once at some point so we figured this might help. I took 2 garbage bags full and came home with 2 shirts. I think that's a pretty good trade as I'm not 100% sure how I want to dress anyway. I just know how I don't want to dress; in a dress. As I was dragging those bags to the bar this feeling of emptiness came over me. I was closing a chapter, letting go, saying goodbye to a part of me that I wouldn't be getting back. And sure, I don't want it back. It was part of a mask that I wore for a long time. But it was also part of me. That's what happens when you wear a mask for so long. You get used to it and it becomes part of your identity. And now I'm having to let that part go. I'm not sure what I am getting in return. I thought I had figured myself out but I hadn't. I just figured out what I didn't want. Now I have to figure out what I do want. Saying I want to paint is great but that's not every day life. That's not what stares back at me in the mirror every day. That's not what fixes lunch, or walks through town, or talks to my friends. It's much more basic. It's the little things, and the little things are a lot harder then the big things.

Right now I'm not sure how to figure out those little things. It's not like you can sit down and think about it until you have found an answer. These things happen gradually. So I am trying to make space for them to happen. I'm doing this by quiting teaching at the gym and taking a brake at the COC but also by cleaning out my house. I'm not much of a materialistic person to begin with but I'm still going through my closets and bookshelves to see what I want to keep and what can go. I feel your house should reflex who you are so I am stripping away those bits that don't fit me. Slowly, but surely. Then I'll just wait and see what happens, what fills the gaps. I wish I could move to a different place so I can start over but that's not an option right now. I'll just have to make due with what I have, just like with my body. The most important changes happen inside my head anyway.

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