Category Archives: internal transitions

What kind of man do you want to be: a guide for trans men

Posted on by — 5 Comments ↓

One of the advantages we, as trans men, have is the opportunity to almost completely remake ourselves.  No one is too surprised if we undergo a few personality shifts as we come out and transition and they’re not likely to say much unless those shifts are negative.  It’s a great time to experiment and figure out not only who you are, but who you want to grow into.

I didn’t take advantage of this opportunity.  It’s the kind of thing you have to be in the right mental place to do and not knowing where your next meal is coming from is not conducive to that place.  Lucky for me, this isn’t something that it’s ever too late to think about.  It’s like having sex: the right time is when you’re ready.

How does one go about becoming the man they want to be?  I’m not sure anyone has an answer to that.  I do know what I did (and am still doing, being the person you want to be is a lifelong process), but that may not be the process for you.  Like everything on here from wardrobe to T effects, take it as a jumping off point and customise until you get what works.

  1. What are your values?  In order to know who you want to be you have to know what you value.  I am a major fanboy geek and always have been so for me this was easiest when I thought of it as belonging to a particular Hogwarts House or Faerie Court (yes, I’m that kind of geek).  I like logic and reason and restraint and originality and curiosity and self discipline and compassion and ambition and thoughtful loyalty.  I like people who know what they want and will do almost anything to get it, but I don’t like people who wilfully hurt others for no reason other than that they can.  I like people who can argue for things they disagree with because they understand the reasoning even if they think it’s flawed.  I like people who are curious about the world around them.  I believe morality and ethics are most often grey areas with no clear right or wrong.  I believe there is a time for friendship and a time for competition.  I believe that winning by cheating isn’t winning at all.  I believe that taking advantage of loopholes in rules isn’t cheating, it’s being intelligent.  I believe that some things can only be obtained by hard work while others require natural talent.  All of these things shape who I am and want to be.
  2. Do you live up to your values?  Not everyone does.  Everyone slips up from time to time.  I place a very high value on self-discipline, but I am honestly complete crap at it myself.  I admire hard work, but I get frustrated more easily than most anyone I know.  Make a list of the areas you are managing and those you need to work on.  Then pick one area each month or quarter or year to put a conscious effort into.  At the moment I’m trying to work on my self-discipline.  This is an ongoing project for me.  The ADHD means that it’s harder than it is for the average person and I’ve had to learn to be a bit easier on myself when I screw up.  I know that I can do it though because I was incredibly good at it when I was in a highly structured environment as a teenager.  So I work at it.  And work at it.  And work at it.  And slowly I’m improving.
  3. What image do you want to present to the world?  Anyone who says appearance doesn’t matter is either naive or lying.  Appearance doesn’t matter in terms of your value as a person.  It certainly makes a difference in the way the world treats you.  If you dress like a dudebro people will assume you are a dudebro.  Maybe that’s not fair, but it’s still reality.Who do you want the world to see when they look at you?  Even if you can’t present that way yet, it’s a good thing to know.  Try to picture it in your head so you know what you’re working toward.
  4. Is your desired image realistic?  This is important.  If I had my choice I’d present as a 5’10”, gorgeously toned, effeminate-leaning-dapper man with perfect hair, striking eyes, and a larger than average cock.  I’d be James Bond’s gay cousin.  (Ideally Pierce Brosnan Bond, definitely not Daniel Craig Bond.)  I am 5’0″, have almost no ability to build muscle mass, and hair that has to be forced into submission.  (You can guess how the cock issue is going.)  My ideal image is not going to happen unless someone invents body swapping technology.What I can do is go for the effeminate-leaning-dapper part.  I can cultivate the confidence and grace that I admire.  I can work toward particular qualities rather than physical attributes.  (And I can spend three hours beating my hair into submission every morning.)
  5. What might need to change in order to meet your desired image?  I am going to be 100% honest here: I am not remotely like the moderately effeminate, dapper gentleman I would ideally like to be.  I am klutzy.  I am awkward.  I am constantly putting my foot in my mouth.  I could use some work on the “calm and collected” thing.  These are not things that necessarily need to change.  They don’t hurt me.  I could accept them and move on.  I just don’t want to.  Much like how I don’t feel comfortable with breasts, I don’t feel like certain aspects of myself are me.  Those parts I work on changing.  I take ballet, I consciously correct my posture, I try to think before I speak (that one’s hardest).  Like with the self-discipline, slowly these things are changing.
  6. What parts don’t fit your desired image, but you like them anyway?  This is not about changing who you are.  It’s about learning how to make who you are show through to other people.  It’s about consciously being who you are instead of subconsciously being someone else because of your socialisation and what’s easy.  I am kind of a sarcastic ass.  I’m ok with that.  I will never be the kind of person who is considered “nice”.  I am cynical and often derisive and I don’t have patience for stupidity.  Those things don’t fit with the “dapper gay gentleman” image and I am not remotely willing to change them.  They’re a core part of who I am right along with being attracted to men.  I am willing to learn to suppress those things when necessary to get what I want, but that’s as far as I’ll go.  My friends and family will always have to accept my less than nice side.
  7. How much effort are you willing/able to put in?  Not everyone has the same emotional, physical, or financial resources to do everything they’d like.  Not everyone wants to put in all the resources they can.  If I was rich I’d hire myself a team of tutors and trainers and stylists and wardrobe consultants and tailors and personal assistants so I didn’t have to think of all the details myself.  I am not rich.  Wish I was, but I most definitely am not.  I also have depression and ADHD and a few chronic illnesses that mean I don’t always have the energy to do more than get out of bed and take care of my dogs.  On those days I have to simultaneously try to remember that the phase will pass, avoid beating myself up, and attempt to do at least one thing more than I think I’m capable of.  Managing to wash my hair is a big deal.  You have to decide how much you can put in, sometimes on a daily basis.  Maybe that means learning to stand up straight and look people in the eye, maybe it means buying a brand new wardrobe and taking classes at night for a new degree.  It depends on your resources and desires.
  8. Do you have a way of keeping track of progress?  If you don’t try to keep track there’s a better than even chance that you won’t notice change.  It’s like with T where the changes are small enough and slow enough that you don’t tend to realise how much is different until you see someone after time apart or you look at old pictures.  I keep a journal.  It’s not much, just random things I write down throughout the day, but I can look back and see that a month ago I didn’t mark a single thing off my ‘to do’ list while now I’m getting through at least half.  Part of that is getting better at putting down things that need to get done and avoiding things that I know aren’t likely to happen and part of it is a slow improvement in self discipline.  The actual journal parts show that I’ve become much better at articulating what might have triggered a depressive episode and help provide a few clues as to things I should avoid.  (Watching Criminal Minds alone is a sure way to give me nightmares.)
  9. Is it time to re-evaluate?  Once you’ve started this should be asked periodically.  Maybe once a month, maybe once a year, whatever works for you.  This is particularly true if you’re also early in transition or a teen to young adult.  (Not because you’re flaky or anything, adolescence and young adulthood are just natural times of personal growth and experimentation.  You’re most likely going to be a different person at 40 than you were at 22.)Transition is an awkward time for most people.  If you look around at early transition guys you’ll notice that we seem to revert back to adolescence even if we’re well past it.  It’s not surprising when you think about it, we’re learning to be men as much as a thirteen year old is.  It just means that we tend to do a lot of exploring.  Things we think fit us when we first transition might not six months down the line.  After being read as male regularly for a few years we tend to settle down.  If you’re in a space where you’re testing things out it’s a good idea to check in once and a while and make sure that the testing is working for you.  I know that for me the early months of transition meant a lot of tossing out traditional trans concepts and trying to create my own.  Later on I had to work at removing all of the misogynistic attitudes I’d picked up early in transition (I’m still working on that one).  More recently I realised that trying to be polite and nice all of the time was making me nearly as uncomfortable as being a girl did.  As you try things out you’ll find that some work and some don’t.  Don’t be afraid to toss out the things that don’t work.
  10. Are you done?  I don’t actually think a person can ever really be done with this because no one will ever be perfect, but I needed a tenth point or it was going to drive me mad.  In any event, if you reach a point where you’re happy with who you are and don’t think you need or want to change anything else then stay there.  Check in once and a while to make sure you’re living up to your values and enjoy the person you are.

Guest Post: How I Figured Out I Was Trans, the short version

Posted on by — 22 Comments ↓

When people ask me how I knew I was trans, I often don’t know where to start.  There were all sorts of signs that I was trans throughout my childhood, but being as this was before the internet, I had no idea that transitioning was a possibility.  Like many trans people, it wasn’t one thing that let me know I was trans, it was a thousand tiny things that piled up into a narrative.  Eight years after transitioning, I still have moments when I remember tidbits from my life that confirm my transness.  These tiny moments didn’t make sense at the time, but in hindsight I can see what they meant.

Some trans people talk about being in the wrong body and some talk about not liking their social role.  For me, it was a strange combination that led me to transition.  The biggest thing, the one that trans people don’t like to talk about, is sex.  Yes, sex – I figured out that I was trans through having sex.  It started in the summer of 2000.  I was a junior in college and had just started dating a older man (lol, he was only 26, but it felt like a huge difference at the time).  The sex was great in the beginning, as I had gone a long time without any sexual contact due to my extreme studiousness and shyness.  After a month though, the sex turned bad; I felt locked up, stoic and frigid.

Being the perfectionist that I was, I spent days poring over sex books to figure out what I was doing wrong.  Convinced that I just wasn’t doing it right, I made it my goal to explore sex like I never had before.  I watched porn, bought toys, went to the strip club, read erotica, subscribed to Abercrombie & Fitch’s catalogue (my first softcore gay porn!), but nothing helped consistently.  I started to think it was physical, so I went to the doctor’s – nothing wrong there.  I practiced kegels, read up on kama sutra and tantric sex, tried the positions with my boyfriend, all to no avail.  Slowly sex became a chore that I loathed doing – a fact that is depressing as hell when you’re horny.  The only thing that helped was having sex right after waking up.  Curious, I started a dream journal.

One afternoon, I was waking up from a short nap in which I hazily remember having sex with a man.  Normally, this would have just been considered a good use of daylight hours, but this time I had a penis and I was the one penetrating him.  The dream was so vivid, so electric, that I thought about it for months, totally confused as to why I would have a dream like this.  It didn’t make any sense.  I tried to put it out of my mind, but a big part of me liked it so much, I started to have this dream every night.

After a few months of this, I furiously started researching the internets.  I came across a picture of a masculine presenting female-assigned trans person.  Floored, intrigued, excited and scared, I slowly I came to accept that my dream was telling me something important and that the only way I would figure it out was to break up with my boyfriend and explore my sexuality with other people.  Three months later, I chopped my hair off, graduated from college and somehow became convinced that I should start my experiments with women.

When graduate school started in the fall, I started dating another grad student – a woman.  My goal was to somehow embody my dream, to somehow feel male, so dating a woman seemed like the natural thing to do and I went with it.  At first it was new and exciting, just like my last relationship, but after a month of sex in which I never took off my clothes, I got bored and anxious.   I also felt like a fraud cause she thought I was a lesbian, but making her come did absolutely nothing for me.  After five months of exploring sex (including BDSM lite) with her, I took to the internet once more.

This time, thankfully, I came across a message board full of queer and trans people.  I spent months reading the archives, searching for some truth that mirrored my own.  I stopped having sex again, started to obsessively study myself in the mirror and make myself as masculine-looking as possible.  I lifted weights every day, starved myself, started shopping in the men’s side of the store and, most importantly, I started having the special dreams again, except this time they were more explicit and longer.  Jolting energy spilt through my penis, like I’d imagine a cis guy would feel and it was very unlike the orgasms and feel of vaginal sex.  I had a masculine chest, fur, fuzz on my face and I found myself furiously sucking my imaginary partner’s cock like I never had in real life.

Up until this point, it had never occurred to me that gay trans men existed.  In my dreams, I was a man having sex with a man, but acknowledging this out loud to other people scared the shit out of me.  So I continued on my quest to look more masculine while entertaining the possibility of sex with lesbians who digged people like me.   Convinced that I was disgusting, not worth dating and certainly not sexy, the attention and ego boost were nice.   I had some odd encounters with lesbians, but the spark wasn’t there.  I felt mostly dead down there when it came to having sex with women.

Slowly my dreams became more elaborate and I started wondering what else was possible.  Just going to a gay porn website was enough to make me start shaking and sweating at this point.  It felt forbidden and wrong.  It took me a full year of thinking before I finally downloaded some gay porn.  At first, I was confused.  I mean, I had sex with plenty guys growing up and I’d seen plenty of penises, but seeing gay porn for the first time made me feel completely ignorant of male sexuality.  I watched the twinks giving each other blowjobs, examining their bodies and noticing how skinny and smooth they looked.  Then one of them starting topping the other and my mouth literally gaped open – I thought “that’s exactly what my dream was like!!!”.  A part of me didn’t want to watch anymore (they weren’t my type and they looked rather sickly), but I couldn’t look away – it was calling my name.   Scared to death that I was really a gay man, I told myself that it wasn’t my cup of tea and that perhaps I was into the type of sex that has never existed in real life.

Meanwhile, I took steps to start testosterone therapy for my physical transition and graduated from college.  I moved to a new town and met some gay men for the first time in my life at age 23.  This is when my life started – I’m not exaggerating.  My new role as a man was being accepted rather easily with the help of testosterone-induced masculinization, a very trans-friendly community and top surgery, but making that step into gayhood became some sort of looming monster.  The closer I became with one of my gay friends, the more apparent my sexuality became to others, the more I couldn’t ignore the truth.  I finally came out, which surprised no one (apparently I make a rather fey man).  In less than a week after coming out, I was making my privates hurt from the constant masturbation from just the release of finally accepting myself.  Soon, I went after the real thing and for the first time in my life, my sexuality felt easy, not forced.  I no longer had to get in the perfect position, think of England, or imagine I was somewhere else.  I could be in my body and feel the electricity and most importantly I could share it with someone else, like humans were meant to do.

This isn’t to say that my sex life is easy and that I have no issues.  When I’m with a cis guy, I immediately feel less than a man – how do you come to terms that someone ran off with your penis before you born and not feel inadequate?  A lot of times, men aren’t interested in having sex with me once they know I’m trans.  On the street, if you saw me you’d never know that my package was manufactured at some plant in China.  Naked, well, you’d be really dense not to notice that my penis is quite small, much like an overgrown clit (testosterone makes it grow, a lot) and that I can’t fuck you with it.   Some don’t care that I have a vagina and some really like it.  I try to tell myself that being trans is like being short – it’s much harder to find people that are into you, but it’s not impossible.  Sometimes, my lack of a penis keeps me from cruising for a date.

Those times I’ve had sex with men who didn’t care, who fucked me all night (yes, I’m a bottom), who either didn’t notice or didn’t care that they had the only penis in the room when there were usually two, have given me years of contentment.  I was a gay man with them, just like any other guy and we enjoyed each other’s bodies like gay men tend to do.  I’ll never forget those times when I could forget that I was born female.  Like the dreams that started it all, they are seared into my brain and they make me feel alive even when I’m alone for yet another saturday night.

I may not make sense to you.  That’s alright.  It took me years for me to make sense of myself.  But I do exist – I’m not weird, or disgusting…. I’m just gay and male and trans.  For a few years I lived my life as a straight women, but not since my first gay sexual experience have I felt any longing for my former life or like I could just turn back.

You’ll never know what it’s like to be trans (unless you are actually trans) and that you’ll never know what it’s like to be a gay trans man (unless you are one), but that doesn’t mean you can’t accept it.   This is me.  I am gay and I am a man.  Take my word for it, otherwise I’ll have to bore you with more details of my mostly uninteresting life and then you’ll be really sorry you asked because you couldn’t understand.

Kian currently lives in NH with his two cats. He would be wicked excited if he didn’t have to move to a ginormous city to the south in order to have a fulfulling sex life (he’ll miss the snow and the ice-skating too much.) He can be reached at kian217 at gmail dot com if you’re interested in conversation, an argument or in sending a nicely worded hate letter.

Requisite disclaimer: All opinions expressed in guest posts are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of NotAiden.

Who the fuck cares if T makes you gay?

Posted on by — 6 Comments ↓

If there is one thing I’m sick of it’s straight trans guys flipping out over “ZOMG T’S GONNA TURN ME INTO A FAG!”

First of all, there is absolutely no evidence to prove that increased T levels have anything to do with sexuality.  Anecdata =/= data.

Second, why does it matter?  Woo, you might like dudes, so scary.  Man the fuck up and accept that there is nothing wrong with a healthy love of peen.

The level of homophobia amongst trans men is just bloody ridiculous.  Nothing wrong with being seen as a lesbian and hanging out in lesbian-only spaces, but everything goes to hell if you start liking guys.  Sit and think about that one for a second.  Fucked up, isn’t it?

Men are not the enemy.  You ARE a man, clearly we can’t all be evil.  Gay men are not magically any worse than lesbians.  We’re all queer together.  So get over yourself and accept that you can’t help who you’re attracted to.  It’s frickin’ 2010, we should be over this by now.

Moving past transition

Posted on by — No Comments ↓

Note from N.A: The next few posts are all set to a timed schedule as it’s Prom, graduation, wedding, and Pride season so there’s no guarantee that I’ll have time to sleep until at least July.  Apologies if it takes me a bit to respond to your comments.

Those of us who decide to physically transition tend to get a bit obsessive about it after coming out.  There’s this giant rush of name change, hormones, surgery, holy crap do I pass?  I’ve already talked about not making your entire life about transition (because, in all honesty, it’s annoying even to those of us who’ve been there), but I’ve never really touched on what it’s like to be past that phase.

See, for most of us physical transition eventually ends.  Either you’ve done everything you want to do or what you want isn’t currently available.  You’re a guy.  You’ve been a guy for years and no one questions it anymore.  If you’re on T you see your doctor once or twice a year like anyone else and that’s about it.  If you want a lower surgery result that isn’t currently available you may keep checking out research, but it’s no longer the center of your life.  You’re just a guy.

Problem is, physical transition can take years.  I know guys who spent the whole of their twenties working toward their next transition goal — after all, surgery costs money and in the US isn’t generally covered by insurance.  By the time we’ve met all of our goals we’re almost entirely different people from when we started out.  So what do you do when all of a sudden this huge part of your life is ending?

Really it depends on the person.  I want to finally get braces.  Other people realise they’ve been neglecting their non-trans related physical or mental health.  I’ve noticed a number of the younger guys looking at how to start families.  Many of us put off educational or career goals because our dysphoria was just that bad.  Even more put off travel until we could get our passports straightened out.

One thing you shouldn’t do is start getting bitter about all the things you may have missed out on due to being trans.  I admit, I’m guilty of this myself from time to time.  It doesn’t help anyone though, all that happens is that I get depressed and frustrated.  Instead focus on all the things you still can do.  Maybe you’ve always wanted to go scuba diving or hang gliding.  Maybe you want to give back to the community somehow.  I want to learn how to play bagpipes.  Whatever it is, go for it.  If you’re not saving for some form of surgery any more you have extra cash, may as well put it to use.

Speaking of extra cash, what do you do with all the money you’re saving from no longer having to worry about paying for surgery?  I suggest saving and investing a portion only because so many of us focus on trans-related issues to the point of completely neglecting everything else.  I have absolutely no savings other than my top fund.  I didn’t realise this until I finally hit my goal (in January) and went so crazy spending that an older friend pulled me aside and asked what the hell I thought I was doing.  I’m still pretty young and I come from a family where there isn’t money left at the end of the month so it didn’t even occur to me that I should probably start saving for retirement or a home or any of those other things that middle class Americans dream about.  He was right though, just as there came a point where I’m no longer focused on transition, there’s going to come a point where I’m no longer in my 20s.  If you don’t have savings and you don’t know where to start, find someone who can explain the basics.  It’s not the most intuitive thing in the world, but it’s not impossible either.

There is one thing that quite a few trans guys who transitioned in their late teens and early 20s want to know, but that I know nothing about: kids.  I’m sorry about that, I’m not really the guy who ever made starting a family a priority.  I know I might want one some day, but we’re talking about 10-15 years down the line.  Even then, I’ve always known that if I ever wanted kids I’d adopt.  It’s still such a new idea for trans people to have kids after transition that there’s not really a whole lot of information out there.  The only advice I can give you is to run a few Google searches.  I know different GLBT community centers have seminars on starting a family when you’re trans, if there’s one near you that’s as good a place as any to start.

Guest Post: Sexism Exists!!!! Thoughts and solace from a gay trans man.

Posted on by — 11 Comments ↓

Ever since I was a little trans boy living as a girl, I’ve felt the need to protect the girls and women in my life from those who are abusive.  Perhaps it was my childhood environment that led to this – I grew up in a dirt-poor, “white-trash” household with a distant mother, a sister who was sexually abused, and an estranged father.  I didn’t know love, affection, respect, boundaries, discipline, and feminism.  Life was hard and women were treated the worst.

Lucky for me, I was a very strong “girl” – I could beat any boy in the class at arm wrestling, sprinting or basically anything to do with strength.  I was very rough and tumble and was often referred to as a tomboy because I was so dominant and refused to wear dresses.  I don’t bring this up to brag, in fact, I hated standing out that much, regardless of how much I actually used my talents.  You see, I am a gentle soul – I am very sensitive, highly anxious, and slightly autistic.  I’m also extremely protective of what I hold dear – perhaps a reaction to my childhood – which directs my attention toward people who get treated unfairly, usually women  I’ve never fit in myself, so when I see injustice, I feel the need to stop it.

When I was young, my version of stopping injustice involved beating the perpetrator up.  Sure, I wouldn’t recommend it, but at the time, it seemed appropriate.  If the boys decided it was “Friday Flip Up Day”, in which they hassled the girls who were wearing skirts, I patrolled the area where my friends were hanging out at recess.  This is not an exaggeration.  My first fight involved me punching a boy who tried to kiss my friend on the cheek and then chased her when she refused – this was in 1st grade.  At recess I stood guard always making sure that my friends didn’t have to worry about what they boys were up to.  For my work, I was rewarded with loyal friends and boys who hated me for humiliating them.  To me, it was a fair trade-off and I continued until I could no longer fend the boys off (about sixth grade).  [I would like to point out that I was never officially punished. In fact, many of my teachers thought it was awesome.]

To this day, I abhor sexism and the insidious ways that it keeps women and girls in their place and elevates men who don’t deserve the praise.  I became an official feminist in college, although it never became my field of study (I prefer math and science), but I definitely dabbled and had friends who were also ardent feminists.  They taught me a lot of what they learned in classes and I appreciated the knowledge.  This knowledge led me to all sorts of places and perhaps the most important – accepting my transsexuality.  When I came out to my friends, I was under the erroneous assumption that they would accept it as well, but I was wrong.  They didn’t understand, they refused to talk about feminism anymore, they called me a traitor, they stopped calling.  I felt betrayed, cast away, discarded.    Often I wondered how much is due to the underlying anti-trans sentiments of some feminist arguments or to the ingrained transphobia in our culture.  Most of me, though, no longer cared, as I had lost everything that was dear to me for speaking my truth.  My world felt twisted and upside-down – it didn’t make any sense.  How could something that felt so right for so long, suddenly make me feel like a monster when I had done nothing wrong?

What I can see now that I couldn’t see then is that both sides felt betrayed.  We all lost innocence about feminism that day or at-least were faced with the limitations of feminism.  As someone who was assigned female and was forced to live the life of a straight woman for 20 years, I do have insight into how women are treated.  But I maintain that I will never know what its like to actually *be* a woman.  I never was one.  I just looked like one – an impostor, a fake, a doppelganger.  My friends believed that I was a woman, so when I told them that I really wasn’t one, they thought I was denying my womanhood and implying that manhood was much better.  They thought I was buying into the patriarchy and believed that to be a woman was one of the worst things you could be.  This is very far from the actual truth of why I transitioned and their assumption that my motivation was flawed led to all sorts of recriminations.  I transitioned because my mind says male and my body said female.  I wanted them to match and for that I have been called a traitor, an impostor, a liar, a chauvinist pig, a tool of the patriarchy, etc.  It took me a long time to come to terms with the accusations I faced from my feminist friends.  A part of me agreed with them and felt extreme guilt that my decision to transition could make me just as bad as the boys who harassed my friends as a child.  I didn’t want to be like them.  I didn’t want to be that guy who thinks they are better than women solely because they’ve been trained to think that way.  I was also aware that gaining male privilege can make trans men become sexist jerks.  I vowed to not become that kind of man.

I’ve been living my life as I’d always wished for 8 years now.  I am an effeminate gay trans men who loves the company of women.  It took me a long time, but I have finally come to terms with the limitations of feminism and understand that my former friends did the best they could do with the information they had, as did I.  Neither side won or lost.  I still fight against sexism and believe that women need their spaces away from men.  I’m somewhat of an outsider now, but I like to look in to see how strong and powerful women can be and just happy that slowly things are getting better.  I know that I can’t give them the male privilege that I’ve gained, but I can still watch out for their safety.  I can still stand up for them when they need it.  I can still be their friend and listen when they need an ear.  I still care and no matter how hard they push me away, I will always be there.

In closing, If you’re a trans man reading this, please take this to heart.  Let your former life guide you, but know that you are not betraying anyone by transitioning and living your life to the fullest.  By the power vested in me you are now absolved of all guilt you are feeling.  Just one thing before you to take the plunge — don’t forget about the sisters you left behind.

Kian has been living as a gay transman for most of his 20s.  Nerdy, quirky and fey, he often spends his time thinking and writing about gay and trans politics.  He loves to learn and cook and looks for hairy men who do the same.

Requisite disclaimer: All opinions expressed in guest posts are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of NotAiden.

Guest Post: Internalized Transphobia and What It Means to You

Posted on by — 23 Comments ↓

Often when trans people look for advice on dealing with internalized transphobia, we find a definition and are told to find a therapist.  Not finding this helpful for most trans people, I would like to offer an alternative.  Rather than focus on the definition of transphobia, I would like to concentrate on the individual beliefs, or myths, that comprise transphobia, particularly for gay FTMs.  Myths shape our thought processes because they are usually firmly held,  taught to us at a young age and are repeatedly reinforced by the culture we live in.   While you may have come to terms with being trans and have started transitioning, you may still have these myths in place that serve to diminish your self-esteem and self-worth.

The following is a cognitive-based approach that I learned in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and has proven useful for me in combating inner myths that mirrored transphobic cultural ideas.  Myths are not universal.  Some of the myths that resonate with me will resonate strongly with you, some will not at all.  Disregard the ones that don’t apply to you and address the ones that strike a chord, as these myths are the probably the root of your self-hate.  My list of myths about being an effeminate gay trans man is very personal, as these are the ideas that shaped how I saw and judged myself during the first few years of transition.   I’m sure that you can think of myths that didn’t occur to me or don’t apply to me, so I encourage you to do this in addition to the following exercise.

The next step involves rewriting your personal myths so that you can start to pick them apart and eventually make your personal belief system more positive.  When you rewrite a myth, it can be anything from subtle change of one word to a complete reorganization of the idea.  A rewrite should challenge the original myth and be personal.  I cannot rewrite myths for you, although I will provide examples of rewrites that resonate with me.   Why?  This is about you and how you see yourself.  Only you can change this and hopefully you can start here.

Myth #1
My lack of a penis means I’m not really a man.

My rewrites:
My lack of a penis means that I’m not a typical man.
My lack of a penis has no bearing on my manhood.
My lack of a penis is not my fault.

Myth #2:
I’m only pretending to be a boy.

My rewrites:
I’m not pretending to be anything.
I’m being true to myself.

Myth #3
I’m not a real FTM transsexual because I’m too feminine.

My rewrites:
FTM transsexuals come in many varieties and I happen to come in the fey, gay and fabulous variety.
My inner sense of being male has no relation to my feminine gender expression.

Myth #4
My attraction to men means I’m not a real FTM.

My rewrites:
My attraction to men has nothing to do my gender.
FTMs can be attracted to anyone.

I encourage you to start with these three and see if you can come up with rewrites that resonate with you.  Below you will find more myths that I compiled in a list for you to start tackling.  Remember these are personal myths, so there there are no right or wrong ways to rewrite a myth.

•    I’m not a real gay man because I was born female.
•    I’m just really confused and other people probably know better.
•    I must not be a real FTM because I used to wear dresses.
•    I like to have sex with my front hole so I must not be a real FTM.
•    I’m a freak and don’t deserved to be loved.
•    If I could just try harder I would be happier with my assigned sex.
•    I must be defective.
•    I’m too pretty to be an FTM.
•    I’m a fag hag, not a fag.
•    When people call me “she” it means they know the real truth.
•    Being trans is a choice and my decision to take hormones and have surgery means I’m weak.
•    I’m reinforcing the gender binary by transitioning.
•    Transitioning is radical and must be done only as a last resort.
•    No one will want to date me.
•    I’m betraying women by transitioning.
•    I’m disgusting.
•    I’m buying into the patriarchy by transitioning.
•    I’m short and nobody likes short men.
•    I have to butch up in order to be a proper FTM.
•    I’ll never truly know what it’s like to be a man.
•    I’m FTM so I must like girls.
•    I’m not a real FTM transsexual if I don’t get bottom surgery.
•    My personality will change on hormones and I will become a different person.
•    All of my problems stem from my transsexuality.
•    I will never be happy.
•    I will always be considered a freak.
•    I’m never mistaken for a boy, so I must not be a real transsexual.
•    To be a successful FTM transsexual, I must pass at all times.

Now the rest is up to you.  Rewrite as many or as few as you need to.

Please note: I am not a psychologist, a therapist or a mental health counselor.  My only qualifications include 10 years of therapy, 6 years of transition, an obsession with psychology and a sincere desire to help my fellow trans sisters and brothers come to terms with their genders.  If this is not helpful, please let me know.  If it is very helpful, please let me know.  I am open to all suggestions, comments and concerns, as this is the first time I have attempted this.

Kian has been living as a gay transman for most of his 20s.  Nerdy, quirky and fey, he often spends his time thinking and writing about gay and trans politics.  He loves to learn and cook and looks for hairy men who do the same.