The act of denying someone’s identity is violence to the soul—even if nothing else is done, years of that is painful beyond measure.
People hate me to be “transsexual.” Doctors, nurses, university staff, neighbors, family, businesses, legislators…insist it’s offensive to need to be the other SEX, even harassment of transgenders to bring up an issue they try to hide.
But they demand I un-be, disregard my neurological need to be female, which is just as impossible as demanding someone gay un-be themselves, or “You can be gay if you want to—but don’t say so and don’t act like it as it offends people.”
That’s what I live with every day.
It’s been going on for 20 years, and I’ve put my foot down. I will not be regarded as “transgender” any more. I insist what I am—”transsexual,” the need to be the other SEX—is not the same phenomenon but is just as valued, just as socially okay, just as worthy of respect, and I will not be demeaned by saying it’s not, or, “It is, but we just don’t want to say so outright.”
If I complain, I’m identified as either crazy or a troublemaker. If I persist, I may be accused of saying or doing something I did not say or do—to hurt me, get me to stop, and/or get me to go away.
If I am in a group, if I sense they are responding to me falsely per the transgender paradigm, and if I try to say what I really am, I’m usually told “No,” that I cannot bring it up—as if the message is, based on how they misunderstand me, “We will tolerate you being here, but have the grace to pretend you’re not you.”
Being transsexual is not a slam to transgenders. I’m pleased with them being themselves, but it’s not what I am. The point of transsexualism is that we are sexually of the opposite SEX. The searing rift felt when the mind requires being the other SEX and the body just isn’t, is not known by other humans—not by people at large and not by transgenders, either. People only see us from the outside and so think I’m just another form of “medicalized” “transgender,” maybe elitist, maybe trouble, a troll.
When I say, “I could never be transgender,” I’m saying something I know they don’t want me to say, but that I must say because they insist I AM transgender: I could never live sexually male. I could never survive transgender for a reason they insist I not say, but which is still the truth.
They demand I hide my sexuality because they hide theirs.
They demand I be like my oppressors.
I respond with “Live and let live.” We don’t all have to be part of the same social movement. We can be of conflicting religions, as it were, and coexist.
Having my soul demeaned this way is deeply painful and leaves me less willing to socialize with such people or groups (most of them). This promotes social alienation, makes integration—or even feeling good about myself—difficult or impossible as I cannot really do so unless I’m valued as myself.
The daily, relentless pounding from all levels of society, even LGBTQ+, is cumulative, with basically no social support.
The process leaves me here, among other people, yet disconnected—a ghost in a crowd—which also weighs.
If I were not of strong character—stubbornly insisting I must be myself and that what I am is okay to be—I’m sure I’d have committed suicide years ago.
As hard as life was for me in the 20th century, before the transgender social movement grew in the 21st century, life is much harder now.