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

So, the other day I came across some new research that I’m still thinking about... I’d say “wrestling with,” except that it’s not really that active a disturbance. It would have been, though, if I’d seen it before making my decision to transition... so maybe it’s best that I didn’t! You see, one aspect of gender transition that doesn’t get discussed very much (in part because we still don’t know very much about it) is that, just as puberty causes changes not only in the body, but also in the brain, so the “second puberty” of transition-related hormone therapy can do the same. It’s a weird thought... especially when you’re the one choosing to undergo the process. Kind of like one of those creepy old mad scientist movies in which the insane innovator, lacking another subject, decides to test the experimental serum on himself. Should I be wondering what I might turn into? Scary! Of course, it’s not really that scary, or I’d be doing more than just writing about it. And of course I ...

Warning: this installment may be a little... personal. No, it’s not about sex. It’s about my relationship with my body, and the changes it’s going through. I’ve actually been trying to write this one for nearly two weeks, in various different (and unsuccessful) shapes. Finally I realized that I was trying too hard to be objective, or at least what might pass for objective... to be politely, even amusingly, distanced from my subject. Which is, of course, exactly what I’ve been doing with my body for half a lifetime... no surprises there, I guess. So - we’ll try this another way... and I’ll tell you my own, very personal tale. This may take a while. ;) NOTE: Please be forewarned that this post contains some pretty plain language about male and female bodies, and about transitional bodies! So anyway... When I chose to ask my doctor to approve hormone therapy for gender transition, it was with the recognition that this would not be a fully controllable process. We could decide ...

So, after a long (though unintentional) break in posting this summer, it definitely feels like time to get writing again. And while there’s a lot to share about these past few months, their challenges, and the thoughts and questions they’ve raised, I’m going to start with a symbolic act that feels significant to me: attaching my real name to this journal and its contents. Last year, when I first came out to my little community of friends and coworkers, and started this journaling project, there were a number of important questions that I intentionally put on a back burner, with the understanding that sometimes things just need to simmer for a while. One of those questions concerned the wisdom of being too public about being Transgender. (Remember, these were the days before Caitlyn Jenner, LOL - yeah, baby, I was Trans before Trans was cool. :::grin:::) In particular, the wisdom of putting my real, legal name on this journal. Now, that might seem like an odd thing to worry about, ...

So let’s look at this word “normal.” It’s a pretty interesting word! We use it in SO many ways, with multiple layers of connotations that have nothing to do with its original meaning. We use it to mean “healthy,” as in, “Your blood tests came out normal.” We use it to mean “common” or “expected,” as in “It’s normal to feel weak and tired after a long bout with the flu.” We use it to mean “socially acceptable,” or at least “socially predictable,” as in “Why can’t you just listen to pop music like a normal teenager?” (Which was my mom’s response to the constant strains of Mozart and Duke Ellington emerging loudly from my room during my 80‘s teenhood. Heh.) So what is the original meaning of the word, the one from which all of those others somehow evolved and diverged? I could half-jokingly say that the answer is written in the stars. Fellow astronomy buffs and lovers of Latin will know what I’m talking about: there’s a small constellation up there that everyone ignores, becaus...

So here I am again at the far edge of a several-weeks' break in posting... I hate it when that happens, but occasionally life just gets very, very full of Other Things! I haven't finished my ongoing topic from late April yet, but today's post will be a short side-trip, because I want to talk about something that feels very current and present to me right now. Today I am thinking a lot about an old friend I lost touch with some years back. I'll call her Sue... and if she ever reads this, she'll know why. Our losing touch wasn't accidental. I stepped back from the friendship intentionally, in order to let her go her chosen way unimpeded. I tentatively and temporarily got back in touch with her several years ago just to see how she was doing, and it seemed that she had succeeded in her goal. But I can't help wondering if she's really happy. I say "she" out of respect to the inner self she hesitantly chose to let me see, which did not match...

So, while still pondering the many faces of “normal” this past weekend, I was graciously offered some field experience by the Universe: a chance to go hang out for a few hours with a broad cross-section of other NH transfolk - young and old, tall and short, fat and thin, pre-transition and post-transition and in-transition and non-transitioning, along with those who identify as genderqueer, gender-fluid, or gender-nonconforming... and, of course, Allies. This cool little get-together was a “wellness event” run by an organzation called Transgender New Hampshire (TGNH) and held at a local UU church. It was attended by around 70 people, more than enough to make the downstairs Fellowship Hall feel nice and full. Let me tell you, “normal” was strained to the hilt in that room - to which I can only say, WAY COOL!!! It was an all-day event of which I missed the first half, alas, due to my work schedule. (Not too much “alas,” as I was working with my very fun little group of madrigal singe...

So, as promised, this begins what I suspect will be a multiple-post exploration of the concept of “normal.” My initial temptation was to launch right into etymology and mathematics - but instead, in keeping with this blog’s title and theme, I’ll start by telling you a story. I've mentioned puberty once or twice before, I think. Now, I'm aware that puberty pretty much sucks for everyone. And in fact, today I'm barely even going to mention those aspects of puberty that particularly suck for Transfolk. No, today I'm going to tell you about a moment that actually would have sucked much worse for me if I hadn't  been a Transgendered person. Yes, really. So... puberty. That time when (A.) you’re hugely self-conscious and anything that makes you socially uncomfortable feels like the end of the world, and (B.) your secondary sex characteristics start to develop. Thus proving that (C.) Mother Nature really does have a sadistic streak! For female-bodied persons, of c...

Okay, so... twice in the past couple of days, while casually listening to a female acquaintance of mine talking (two different acquaintances, not the same one twice), I suddenly noticed that my eyes had strayed to her... um, yeah... that. I mean those. I mean... you know. And I thought... Really? I wasn't ogling, or leering, or anything. There wasn't anything particularly sexual going on in my mind. In fact, I don't think there was anything going on in my mind at all. (Okay, let me just pause here while half the women I know exchange knowing looks and say, "Yup, that sounds about right..." *sigh*) I wasn't upset, merely mildly surprised, at finding my attention thus engaged. And I don't think either of the women involved even noticed it. Really, it was pretty innocent, as such incidents go. And geesh, it's not like I haven't looked at women before. On the contrary. Having identified as lesbian for most of my adult life, I have b...

So it’s April Fool’s Day, and I was a little wary of posting anything today, lest I not be (*cough*) taken seriously... But as it happens, today I’m having flashbacks to a lay sermon I wrote and delivered several years ago, when April 1st fell on a Sunday and our church celebrated Loof Lirpa (spell it backwards and you’ll get it). And it seems to be begging for some further exploration. I admit, I enjoy the odd service-frameworks that our fun-loving Worship & Music Committeefolk sometimes come up with. (My favorite will always be the Oct. 31st Rocky Horror extravaganza... I figure any church service in which I get to perform “Sweet Transvestite” from the pulpit is automatically a winner!) But at the same time, it’s also important to me that they have a deeper meaning, that they make people both think and feel. And often I will aim to push uncomfortable buttons. (My Rocky Horror sermon was about owning your own dark side -  not merely distinguishing darkness from actual evil...

The other day I accidentally admitted, in the presence of both our minister and our RE committee chair, that persistent nagging is a technique that has sometimes worked if you want something from me. Oops! Of course they both immediately made “Hmmmm!” noises and pronounced this a VERY INTERESTING revelation... which presumably they intend to make good use of at some future time. I laughingly protested that they shouldn’t assume it’ll continue to work... after all, I’m a rapidly changing personality right now! Our minister just grinned and reminded me that he has been through this before (a close friend of his having transitioned some years back) and knows better... He’s right, of course. Transition changes many things, but not the basic essence of who you are. No matter how much I change, the person who comes out the other end will still be ME, with all of my strengths and weaknesses, gifts and faults and personality quirks. He’ll be long-winded, extroverted, and introspective, j...

Sorry, couldn’t resist. Well, okay, yeah, I  could have resisted, but it’s just not in my personality to deny a good Star Trek reference. In a previous entry (titled Clarity, back in, um, December, I think) I talked a little about gendered social spaces. One friend requested that I say a bit more about that. Now, I’m not talking about formally gendered spaces, such as bathrooms and locker rooms, mens’ clubs or womens’ colleges. (Though of course there’s lot to be said, discussed, and argued about those!) No, I mean the subtler kind of spaces, the ones that aren’t officially defined in any way, but exist nonetheless. For instance: you’re at a family gathering, and after a while, you suddenly realize that all of the women have congregated in one room (maybe the kitchen, or a craft room) and all of the men are hanging out in another room (probably the workshop or garage). It didn’t happen on purpose... no one consciously said, hey, for God’s sake, let’s slip away from the menfo...