E.M.

I often fear I have no great insight about the transgender experience. I don’t care nearly as much about my transness as I did ten years ago. It used to be so precious to me. Today I feel much more casual about it. I still don’t love being misgendered, but now I no longer feel personally attacked by simple misunderstandings. Even those who refuse to acknowledge the understanding I have of myself are now merely annoying, rather than wounding and destructive. I am solid. I am confident. I am whatever I am, regardless of others’ approval. I am no longer hopeful that certain others will come around- whatever that means. Hope is just peace on loan. And what is a loan if not a bet on future success? I am not a gambling man. I much prefer my peace bought wholesale- no strings attached. Unfortunately, the society I’ve found myself in has decided that war is more lucrative than peace and therefore buying it outright, even in small quantities, is nearly impossible. So as much as I distrust the idea of hope and optimism, I recognize its usefulness in a world as starving as ours. Still, I am very intentional about where I place something as scarce and valuable as hope. I was so hopeful about transitioning. I was convinced that it would solve all my problems. Instead, it cleared the mental fog that allowed me to see the problems I’d been ignoring. In many ways these newly revealed problems were worse. Several were scarier and a few were harder. My transness is now far down on the list of immediately relevant life circumstances. I don’t love talking about my transness- it’s not the most interesting thing about me anymore. It’s one reason that I’m not as interested in the trans community as I used to be. Another reason: I’ve found the trans community to be, at times, just as suffocating as the religion I was raised in. The difference now is that I can’t leave. I am part of this community whether I’m welcomed or not. That’s not to say I haven’t been welcomed. I feel extremely welcomed… until I disagree with someone. This experience parallels church in a way that sits in my chest and squeezes at my insides until I feel about three inches tall. It’s always been about expression. At first, I thought transitioning would be enough, but I soon found that I have a seemingly endless need for it. To create, expand, touch, and explore as far as possible beyond myself. This need is in direct contrast to the messages society has carved into the neural pathways of my brain- fit in, and don’t upset the cultural norms. This is a message that exists even within subcultures that upset the broadest norms. While I do agree with most of my trans peer’s political positions, I have found that many seem threatened by disagreement- I’m not. I’m threatened by suppression. I want more trans friends. I’d love to feel more connected to my community, but I have felt freer outside of it. If I express myself incorrectly, I can’t fully leave anymore. This was a terrifying realization, and according to my church-induced neural pathways, it was also inevitable that I would fuck it up. I found the answer by leaving mentally and socially instead. I didn’t fully disappear, but I didn’t connect either. When I was lonely and needed comfort, I didn’t find it where I thought I would. That broke something in my mind. This is a beautiful community; I love it dearly. And yet, fear has kept me from feeling fully a part of it. Still, my transness is as important to me as the color of my eyes. It is very much a part of me, though it’s not nearly as important as a vocal minority of assholes would have us believe. As I work to repair some of my brokenness, I dare say I have hope. I hope that I will find trans peers who similarly dislike the immediate defense and calling of the guards as soon as a disagreement arises. Of all the existing methods of conflict resolution, we as a group have chosen a very painful one; I refuse to believe that I’m the only one who recoils from it. I want something better for us. If we can’t be free to express ourselves in front of our own community, it gives strength to the groups working against us. It took many years to understand my need for expression as a spiritual trait inherent to the essence of me. In my growing awareness, peace has become easier to borrow, and the fear that once consumed me is blown back by breaths of expression. I have hope that as I continue to replace fear with expression, it will be the key to finding others who are doing the same thing.