Tranny Queer, Dysphoric as Fudge
I have never been gender dysphoric like other people have been gender dysphoric. I’ve suffered my own addictions and definitely have always had serious body image dysphoria. That dysphoria over my body had much more to do with the waistline instead of the genitals. I never thought I was skinny enough, even when I had no more to lose. I look back at photos of my most thin times and am awash with embarrassment. Not really because of how I looked, but more so because I was 130 lbs, 6 ft. tall, with no body fat and thought I was obese. What an idiot.
The closest I’ve come to gender dysphoria was during my late teens. It stemmed from great frustrations when no one accepted me as I felt I was. I was angry that I couldn’t be seen as an androgynous tranny queer who was more a girl than a boy. My friends and family did not get it. It made me so angry that I wanted to have gender reassignment surgery just to spite them all. But alas it was more from anger than actual desire. I’ve always been very happy with myself, it’s other people I had a problem with.
In my mind I was always a tranny queer, a gender outlaw. It never really bothered me what gender I presented as or what was between my legs. I was fine with who I was — who I am. It’s other people who have had the problem! Society is always so excited for us to pick a side. Get with one political party and don’t cross the lines. Go to one denomination of church, but do not mix your affiliations. Choose one moral code and do not stray from the golden brick road. One gender, make up your mind, and alter your bits to accommodate your choices. What a boring endeavor it all is!
Somewhere along the line in my upbringing I was told to love myself as I was and I believed them. I took it quite seriously. I decided that I was born just right and aside from cosmetic alterations I can leave the groundwork alone. I always accepted me when I was alone with me.
In a lot of ways I didn’t understand gender dysphoria as being a horrible thing. I never really “got it” when friends would talk about how overwhelming it was. After all they were just saying what a terrible journey it all was. I never got to experience it with them. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe them, but I simply had no connection to relate it all to. (Sidebar, that doesn’t mean they’re bluffing. Just like all the other things we do not understand or cannot relate with. When someone has a problem you can safely trust that it is definitely a problem.)
I didn’t “get it” until I got real close to the persons with this problem. To love someone with gender dysphoria and to live life along side of them is an eye opening experience. To see struggle through someone else’s eyes is very eye opening.
To be nagged by one’s own gender has to rate pretty high on the list of truly heartbreaking situations. It’s real and it’s really serious. It makes me thankful that I’ve always felt like a gender outlaw and never a stranger to my own skin. And until you see someone truly held back by their own skin, you just don’t know the powerful sadness that accompanies it.
Dysphoria is real. Much like how I will never be skinny even when the bones are shining through, some people will never be able to live with their gender until they strip it away and make some drastic changes. To see someone you love and trust absolutely down and out on a daily basis, dysfunctional and “out of order,” gets the point straight across that this is a problem that should be easier to fix than society has made it.
All of that makes me believe what I’ve always believed, but more so than ever. Why should society stop someone from being something else or several something elses? The person said they are not happy with themselves and wish to make some renovations. There’s no reason to hold your nose in the air and deny them of the request. It’s not hurting you. It’s hurting them. And you’re killing them just for the sake of your personal unimportant ethics and most certainly your personal ego.
Category: Transgender Body & Soul