I loved reading this. Every single word. Thank you for sharing it. I’m not trans, but I lost a lot of my life (and nearly my life itself) growing up gay and closeted in a place that was very...
Exemplary
I loved reading this. Every single word. Thank you for sharing it.
I’m not trans, but I lost a lot of my life (and nearly my life itself) growing up gay and closeted in a place that was very hostile to queer people.
One thing I do now is try to live my life in a way that honors the younger self I never got to be. I can’t ever reverse all the missed opportunities and despair, but I can try to offset them.
I picture my life as a set of scales hanging out of balance, with the plate on the left — my past — weighed down with all sorts of awfulness. I can’t to anything to that plate. It’s done and over.
But the other plate, the one on the right, is something I get to continually add things to, over time. It’s the past that started once my life settled (after I came out and the world eased up on me), but it’s also the present moment, and my future as well. The things I put on that scale are good, and they have a weight to them too — a positive weight. Joy and love and hope all have their own powerful gravities, after all.
While it’s true that I can’t ever undo the burden on the left, it gets proportionally lighter the more I put on the right side. Over time I’ve been able to watch that left plate look lighter and lighter as the balance of my life shifts more and more toward the right.
I hope that one day I’ll see the whole setup fully tip, with the bad plate rising effortlessly up, looking light as a feather, because the good plate is so strong and so saturated — so full of the wonderful things in life — that it becomes the new anchor for my personhood.
When I read your post, I felt like you were looking at your own scales, and feeling almost afraid or unworthy to have something on the good side. I get that feeling. We’re so used to the weight of the bad, in ourselves and the others who share our baggage, that even a slight bit of positivity or joy can feel false or fraudulent.
One of my favorite books is Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m not one for pithy quotes, but there’s a line in it that has always stuck with me:
We accept the love we think we deserve.
It’s a good line on its own, but I think its contrapositive is more resonant for queer people:
If we think we are undeserving of love, then we are unable to accept it.
This brings the message into starker relief for me. I read the book when I was coming out, and it took me a long time to understand the wisdom of that quote, or even apply it to myself in a stand-alone fashion. It’s easy to read it as being about the relationship between people and that sort of “love”, but I think it’s equally (probably even more) powerful when applied internally, as an explanation for our relationships with ourselves.
You are worthy of love, from your own self. The obvious truth is that everyone is worthy of love, of course, because love isn’t transactional and we all should be our own loudest cheerleaders, but what’s “obvious” on paper isn’t always so clear in the lived experiences of many — especially us queer people. We often have to face a blisteringly cold headwind when trying to take a path to warmth, because we are told, in so many ways, that we are unlovable.
So, I’ll say it again, because it’s always worth repeating: you are worthy of love.
That means you can love your hot new self and the way you look. That means you can love your rekindled relationship with your wife. You can love when you fly your beautiful trans flag high and know that it, too, is being seen and loved by others. And you can do all of these things without the need for any hedging or apologies, because you deserve the joy and happiness that they bring.
In doing those things, you are filling up that scale on the right. The one on the left certainly weighs a lot, but it’s done and over.
You have the rest of your life to fill up the right-hand side.
And you deserve every beautiful thing that ends up there.
When I lost 60 pounds in highschool (as a cis woman,) my experience of how people's behavior changed was similar (or rather, the way you write about your experience resonates with me - I don't...
When I lost 60 pounds in highschool (as a cis woman,) my experience of how people's behavior changed was similar (or rather, the way you write about your experience resonates with me - I don't mean to compare our different situations.) It must be a whole lot to process with people perceiving your gender in a new way, thrown on top of a change in attractiveness which is jarring in itself. It's very strange to notice that people are smiling at you or making small talk when they never would have before.
Unfortunately I also experienced more male harassment after becoming "more attractive," along with the positive treatment. Mostly catcalling, being followed home from bus stops, and the like. Once someone told me probably only got a certain job because I was "pretty." People sometimes take you less seriously in the workplace and may assume you didn't get where you are with brains alone. I'm not saying there aren't huge benefits to being attractive, just that it's complicated, especially as a woman when sometimes these things are held against us. I don't feel bad for having complicated feelings about it.
I'm quite disillusioned with the concept of beauty in general at this point, having experienced various points on the spectrum of attractiveness. In the past 7-8 years I prefer dressing more masculine/plain in order to get less attention around how I look. And I don't feel guilty like I'm "wasting" my good looks that another cis woman or trans woman might be glad to have, for not being "grateful" for it, or anything like that. I assume you'd probably support me in feeling that way - and in time I think you'll settle in to this new look and give the same permission to yourself.
You're worthy of looking however you want to look, and feeling whatever type of way you want to feel about it, just like any woman (any person, for that matter.) Excited, relieved, sad, bittersweet, whatever it is.
Thanks for sharing with us. While I'm glad that you feel a passion for helping others, I hope that you can figure out how to appreciate finally feeling like yourself without feeling that sadness....
Thanks for sharing with us. While I'm glad that you feel a passion for helping others, I hope that you can figure out how to appreciate finally feeling like yourself without feeling that sadness. It's true that other people deserve to feel right with who they are, but you do, too. From what I read here, you deserve it as much as anyone.
I don’t have as much to add here, I don’t share many of your lives experiences, but I resonated with your description of how “people have patterns” — I suspect I’m on the ASD spectrum myself...
I don’t have as much to add here, I don’t share many of your lives experiences, but I resonated with your description of how “people have patterns” — I suspect I’m on the ASD spectrum myself (given my diagnosed relatives, and generally how hereditary it can be), so I love seeing insight like this written so well!
You have a way with words, and I loved reading every bit!
I loved reading this. Every single word. Thank you for sharing it.
I’m not trans, but I lost a lot of my life (and nearly my life itself) growing up gay and closeted in a place that was very hostile to queer people.
One thing I do now is try to live my life in a way that honors the younger self I never got to be. I can’t ever reverse all the missed opportunities and despair, but I can try to offset them.
I picture my life as a set of scales hanging out of balance, with the plate on the left — my past — weighed down with all sorts of awfulness. I can’t to anything to that plate. It’s done and over.
But the other plate, the one on the right, is something I get to continually add things to, over time. It’s the past that started once my life settled (after I came out and the world eased up on me), but it’s also the present moment, and my future as well. The things I put on that scale are good, and they have a weight to them too — a positive weight. Joy and love and hope all have their own powerful gravities, after all.
While it’s true that I can’t ever undo the burden on the left, it gets proportionally lighter the more I put on the right side. Over time I’ve been able to watch that left plate look lighter and lighter as the balance of my life shifts more and more toward the right.
I hope that one day I’ll see the whole setup fully tip, with the bad plate rising effortlessly up, looking light as a feather, because the good plate is so strong and so saturated — so full of the wonderful things in life — that it becomes the new anchor for my personhood.
When I read your post, I felt like you were looking at your own scales, and feeling almost afraid or unworthy to have something on the good side. I get that feeling. We’re so used to the weight of the bad, in ourselves and the others who share our baggage, that even a slight bit of positivity or joy can feel false or fraudulent.
One of my favorite books is Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m not one for pithy quotes, but there’s a line in it that has always stuck with me:
It’s a good line on its own, but I think its contrapositive is more resonant for queer people:
This brings the message into starker relief for me. I read the book when I was coming out, and it took me a long time to understand the wisdom of that quote, or even apply it to myself in a stand-alone fashion. It’s easy to read it as being about the relationship between people and that sort of “love”, but I think it’s equally (probably even more) powerful when applied internally, as an explanation for our relationships with ourselves.
You are worthy of love, from your own self. The obvious truth is that everyone is worthy of love, of course, because love isn’t transactional and we all should be our own loudest cheerleaders, but what’s “obvious” on paper isn’t always so clear in the lived experiences of many — especially us queer people. We often have to face a blisteringly cold headwind when trying to take a path to warmth, because we are told, in so many ways, that we are unlovable.
So, I’ll say it again, because it’s always worth repeating: you are worthy of love.
That means you can love your hot new self and the way you look. That means you can love your rekindled relationship with your wife. You can love when you fly your beautiful trans flag high and know that it, too, is being seen and loved by others. And you can do all of these things without the need for any hedging or apologies, because you deserve the joy and happiness that they bring.
In doing those things, you are filling up that scale on the right. The one on the left certainly weighs a lot, but it’s done and over.
You have the rest of your life to fill up the right-hand side.
And you deserve every beautiful thing that ends up there.
Excellent read, thank you for sharing!
It's been suggested that i make clear my bias; I am married to the author and very fond of her already :)
When I lost 60 pounds in highschool (as a cis woman,) my experience of how people's behavior changed was similar (or rather, the way you write about your experience resonates with me - I don't mean to compare our different situations.) It must be a whole lot to process with people perceiving your gender in a new way, thrown on top of a change in attractiveness which is jarring in itself. It's very strange to notice that people are smiling at you or making small talk when they never would have before.
Unfortunately I also experienced more male harassment after becoming "more attractive," along with the positive treatment. Mostly catcalling, being followed home from bus stops, and the like. Once someone told me probably only got a certain job because I was "pretty." People sometimes take you less seriously in the workplace and may assume you didn't get where you are with brains alone. I'm not saying there aren't huge benefits to being attractive, just that it's complicated, especially as a woman when sometimes these things are held against us. I don't feel bad for having complicated feelings about it.
I'm quite disillusioned with the concept of beauty in general at this point, having experienced various points on the spectrum of attractiveness. In the past 7-8 years I prefer dressing more masculine/plain in order to get less attention around how I look. And I don't feel guilty like I'm "wasting" my good looks that another cis woman or trans woman might be glad to have, for not being "grateful" for it, or anything like that. I assume you'd probably support me in feeling that way - and in time I think you'll settle in to this new look and give the same permission to yourself.
You're worthy of looking however you want to look, and feeling whatever type of way you want to feel about it, just like any woman (any person, for that matter.) Excited, relieved, sad, bittersweet, whatever it is.
Thanks for sharing with us. While I'm glad that you feel a passion for helping others, I hope that you can figure out how to appreciate finally feeling like yourself without feeling that sadness. It's true that other people deserve to feel right with who they are, but you do, too. From what I read here, you deserve it as much as anyone.
I don’t have as much to add here, I don’t share many of your lives experiences, but I resonated with your description of how “people have patterns” — I suspect I’m on the ASD spectrum myself (given my diagnosed relatives, and generally how hereditary it can be), so I love seeing insight like this written so well!
You have a way with words, and I loved reading every bit!
I don't have anything to add to the discussion aside from congratulations on finding your hot self! Live your life!!! ❤️❤️
Ask me how I know you're really a woman. 😜
JK, I'm glad you're finally able to be who you are!