U-Turn: a UU transman ponders sex, spirituality, and the power of stories

I once attended an odd little theatrical poetry-reading affair - the brainchild of an advanced English class - in which one of the performers, a tall, bearded youth, ascended the stage to nobly declaim a piece about Being A Man. In sweeping, over-the-top, glib hack-poetic phrases, he expounded the many virtues of Masculinity... until, with a cat-that-ate-the-canary-grin, he delivered the ending line (“For society has given me permission/ To have hairy pits!”) while proudly baring a well-furred underarm to the audience, then madly dashed offstage to thunderous applause. It was terrific. (As a side note: I’d really like to find that poem, so if anyone can identify it, please pass it on!) That memory floats by as I ponder what it will be like to really own the word man. You see, I don’t really consider myself a man - not yet. Male, certainly, yes, but not a man. And that has nothing to do with my body, appearance, or abilities... with anything I have or don’t have. It’s just that ...

Well, now that I’ve gotten the deep thinking out of the way (only temporarily - trust me!), I’m going to actually toss up this second post (two in one week, is that even legal?) just to catch up anyone who’s curious on what’s been happening in my transition process (rather than just in my head) during this unexpected break in communications. Because my big news, transition-wise, is that in mid-January I finally, finally, FINALLY started on testosterone. (!!!!!!!!) When the moment actually came, after SO many setbacks and false starts, I found that I was suddenly reluctant to immediately share that information with too many people. To be honest, I was still sure that SOMETHING would find a way to go wrong. I’d end up being horribly allergic to the preparation that had been prescribed, or I’d have some dreadful side effect - or, heavens forfend, cardiac symptom - that would force a re-evaluation, and start the whole roller-coaster all over again... But no. I have never been so grat...

As a lover of words, I’m quite fond of the phrase, from a Robert Burns poem: “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men aft gang agley.” There’s just something about its compactness of metaphor, succinctly implying the highs and lows of ambition, as well as its old, foreign wording... “oft go askew” just wouldn’t feel the same. At the moment, I’m wondering how I let things go so far agley - er, I mean askew - that I haven’t posted to this blog in... ye gods, has it been THAT many weeks?? Of course, it’s easily blamed on the many unexpected challenges Life has recently gifted me - from a highly persistent respiratory infection that’s had me more or less laid up for nearly a month, to this insane run of quasi-crippling Antarctic East-Coast weather and an ever-so-slightly problematic home internet connection... but hey, if you don’t like any of those excuses, I’m sure I can come up with a few more! But in the meantime, I’m busy recalling some of the other paths and promises of my life, th...