The Body Trap

I was on reddit yesterday, and someone posted this question:

“Is the ‘woman stuck in a man’s body’ or ‘man stuck in a woman’s body’ a narrative invented by cis people or [do] trans people have that kind of experience?”

It was a “holy shit” moment.  This “trapped in the wrong body” narrative is what I had heard from childhood as the very definition of being trans.  Yet it has never once been a phrase I would use to describe myself.  I was never more trapped in my body than anyone else is.  My body never quite described me, or looked like me, but it wasn’t a cage I wanted to escape.

But what makes it a holy shit moment is that the wrongness of the phrase is part of what made it take so damned long for me to realize that the word transgender applied to me.  That it described the condition of my life.  Or that I had a case of trans-ness “bad enough” to merit treating.  I’d never felt “trapped in the wrong body” after all, so I could probably just ignore it.

I frequently reflect on how public descriptions of being trans miss the mark, and how isolated that has made me feel through the years.  The internet is a beautiful thing because it can bring us together so that we can tell our true stories in our own words.  It was also through reddit, after all, that I described my feelings and heard from trans people around the world who experienced feelings just like them.

There is no single trans narrative.  And I assume there are trans people who do feel trapped in the body of the wrong sex.  But sometimes I wonder if these narratives also come about in trying to justify ourselves to people who can’t imagine what it feels like to be us.  I am grateful that such justification is no longer necessary to simply live a decent life.  And I am grateful that even if a strong belief in a false narrative may have delayed me from finding my truth, it did not preclude it.

I am here, in my strange trans body, and I am free.

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In the land of tall women and short men

I am so lucky to be here at the Philly Trans Health Conference.  I’m here to learn (and I’ve been learning a ton, so mission accomplished).  I am in awe of how it feels to be in a trans/nonbinary majority space.  To walk the halls with people of all combinations of gender identity and gender expressions.  And to feel so normal and empowered by all of it.   It’s also nice not to be the shortest guy in the room for once.

There are also so many heroes here.  Legal and political advocates, policy makers, academics, activists, medical professionals, and so many others that help trans people achieve recognitions, acceptance, and access to basic services and accommodations.  Thank you to everyone I’ve met–you’re my heroes.

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Daytime Talk of the 1990s

I watched a lot of TV as a kid.  My brother and I were latchkey kids, and basically turned on the TV from the moment we got home at 2:30 until my parents came back from work at 6:00.  There were cartoons (Ducktails!), schlocky teen series (Out of This World), and syndicated sitcoms (My Two Dads).  Except for Ricki Lake, the talk shows were on earlier in the day, so I only got to watch them if I was home sick (which I was, a lot).

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