visibility, or something
it’s time to post about gender again.
am i going to use uppercase letters at all in this post? no.
god, i hate words
a few days ago on twitter i defined gender as the following:
a set of social expectations and behaviours that are assumed to reflect a binary sex assigned at birth
an area of personal identity that is used to categorise people and to build community
nonsense. utter nonsense
let’s also define gender dysphoria:
a feeling that the way people see you and categorise you based on gender is not the way you are. this can manifest as discomfort or it might not manifest at all; instead someone might experience gender euphoria while experimenting with gender, or they might be uncomfortable with the entire concept of gender, or something else
still nonsense, but very real
for a while i’ve been saying that i don’t experience body dysphoria. that’s because i didn’t really have a framework for what body dysphoria looks like for trans people who don’t want medical transition. i’m starting to piece together a kind of framework for myself, and obviously it differs for everyone else, but like. i do experience body dysphoria. and there’s not a lot that can physically be done about it.
my body dysphoria isn’t entirely gender related, but, i mean, everything in me is interconnected; my gender is partly about my trauma which is partly about my dysphoria which is partly about my depression etc. etc. etc. my body dysphoria is related to my sexuality, or rather my lack of it: my asexuality. i didn’t realise i was ace until january.
so what is my dysphoria? well, i have bottom dysphoria. it’s worst when i’m on my period. i don’t want any genitalia. i don’t want to be sexualised, i don’t want to have the ability to bear children, and the only advantage of a penis is that i’d be able to pee standing up. i just sort of want all the equipment taken out and the hole sewn up and not to have to think about it. if i were to change my mind about wanting to have sex, other ways still exist.
i also have top dysphoria to an extent. i don’t want top surgery; i’ve thought about a breast reduction. i want modular breasts so i can have different sizes on different days depending on my mood. my gender isn’t fluid but i’d like my presentation to be a bit more fluid. i.e. i want to wear a waistcoat without needing boob room and i want my breasts to round out the chests of dresses.
then there’s the social dysphoria. no matter what i look like, no matter how “androgynous” (i.e. white, vaguely masc, thin, minimal curves, short hair) i present, people see a woman. a queer woman — because let’s be real, there is no universe in which my energy is in any way heterosexual — but a woman nonetheless. and if i were to pursue medical/surgical transition, they’d continue to see a woman right up until the moment i transitioned far enough that they’d suddenly see a man.
one of the reasons i’ve denied my dysphoria in the past is, i think, because there isn’t anything i can do about it. the medical industry is so binary and gaslighty that i’d have very little chance of a hysterectomy (even binary trans men have trouble getting them), and the technology for modular tits simply does not exist yet.
so i’ve stopped repressing my dysphoria to the same extent. i don’t know that i would have been able to handle thinking about it before. i don’t know that i can handle thinking about it now. it’s very easy to feel as though life is meaningless. i don’t want my meaning to be in a futile search for the “ideal” body, but i don’t really want to live without any meaning either. living is answering questions with more questions, confusion, making decisions because they have to be made and not because i’m sure about anything. i’m not. perhaps meaning is ineffable.