Let's Talk About...Sex (Again: The Puberty Mark 2 Edition)

When last we left our intrepid Julie...)

It, like so many things, came to an explosive end as I laid in a hospital bed, having had a heart attack several days before, when I was told she'd be moving back in with her mother as soon as I was discharged. And with no way to handle rent on my own for a 2 bedroom apartment, nor any ability to find a room mate on such short notice, let alone one who would potentially even understand my situation...I moved home too.

And I had no idea what was next...

~~~//||\\~~~

What was next is a series of events many of you have lived through with me, and I can't say a single one of them was at all easy to come to grips with. When I finally reached the point that I was able to completely come to grips with my identity, I thought I could take the time to try and understand the even more complicated thing that was my sexuality. And I would love to sit here and tell you that I sat down and charted everything out and went through things methodically, but the reality of things is, it never even came close to that.

Here were the things I knew:

1. I had major issues with sex.
2. I had major issues considering anything casual.
3. I was WAY into girls.

I found when it came down to it, the more a person fit into a non-compliant category, the greater the chance that they'd understand me, and understanding me was a key part in my being able to move past friendship into something more.

And I began to realise that there were things that still were...weird.

For example:

1. Yes, I watched porn.
2. I had/have specific things that I like more than others.
3. My interest in BD/Ds/SM continued apace and in fact may have deepened.
4. I still REALLY didn't like penis.
5. Mine...
6. Or, well...on a guy.
7. Strap-on, tho? Bring it.
8. Butt stuff?

Butt stuff?

Let me let you in on a little secret.

Only it's not THAT secret.

I kinda always had a thing for butt stuff...even after the horrid 4 minutes of my life I lost when I lost my virginity.

Even after being assaulted.

And I had MAJOR issues reconciling those things. How could I like something that was taken from me without permission?

And I had one of those epiphanies...there is a major difference between something being taken and something being given. And as long as I had control...as long as I had the ability to say 'This is something I choose, and I choose to give it to you,' it was amazing. That doesn't mean that it's at all always easy...but it's better, and it's liberating, and it's good.

And I like it.

Here's another thing...I've never been comfortable with penetrative sex...and by that, I mean I have never been comfortable with being the person doing the penetrating. I'm a bottom. I always have been. It was one of the things that was hardest for someone to accept...maybe even more than accepting the fact that I wasn't going to be a typical guy because GUESS WHAT I'M NOT. Ask me to use my fingers and I will happily until my hand cramps. Ask me to give oral and I promise you that you'll end up having to force me to stop because you'll be wrung out and beyond speech. This is not braggadocio...I'm proud of the fact that I'm good at it.

Pull me on top of you and beg me to take you...

And things go south in a hurry.

I mention all of this to bring up this:

When I started aldactone in November...and estradiol in December, these things became even more defined. My likes and dislikes are even more clearly focused and more easily listed...

1. I really REALLY like girls.
2. Like, 99% totally a lesbian.
3. I totally don't want to use my penis...and it's not really that functional now so...
4. But yes, please with the butt stuff.
5. Also, like...toys are a lot of fun.
6. Especially if they're not shaped like penises.
7. * mutters unintelligibly *

Mostly tho, there are things that are way more important to me...

1. Kissing. Oh god, kissing. Kissing is the best. It's more intimate for me than sex. Sharing breath? Eyes and mind so close to each other? * shudders *
2. Skin on skin contact. Being held. Feeling that warmth. Especially as my skin softens and loses the masculine roughness that guy skin has.

I respond to things in a totally different way.

My body is changing.

And I am essentially going through Second Puberty, and learning how to intimate all over again...or perhaps more accurately, learning how to intimate for the first time. It can get overwhelming in a lot of ways...I'm not only navigating through all of these changes to my body, I'm navigating massive emotional changes and feeling things that I'm totally not familiar with.

It's exciting and terrifying.

~~~//||\\~~~

A lot of things are so very different.

Growing up, masturbation was...it was something I did mostly to get things out of the way and try to minimise my discomfort as much as possible. It was a habit...I'd toss before sleep and hope it'd keep me til the next day. I didn't enjoy it, honestly. It was a chore that had to be done.

Masturbation is...not so much a chore now.

It's also way different.

I am essentially non functional down there, so it's not like I get erections now. I do get aroused, I do get turned on, and I do get wet/leak a lot of what would have been pre-ejaculatory fluid. My orgasms, when I have them, are dry. On the rare occasion that I actually do produce anything, it's exceptionally thin, watery, and if it has any taste it's very mild and almost sweet. I don't feel an urge to bring myself off to completion...a lot of the time, just having twenty or twenty-five minutes where I can block out the world and focus on myself is a billion times better than 5 minutes of furiously trying to get my erection to just disappear.

Toys are my second best friend...and I say second because my first best friend is in another castle (wink wink).

There's a stereotype in the trans femme community that the Hitachi wand is the one thing all of us own at least one of. While I may not have the cat ears headband or the chokers, I do in fact own one, and the stories are very true. It's honestly one of the most amazing things I have ever owned and has made it so much easier for me to self care (and I mean that holistically as well as specifically). There's the degree of separation, of course...I'm not touching myself with my own hand. There's the fact that the sensation is more easily directed...and with multiple speeds and patterns, there's loads of flex here.

And, well...

It's intense.

If I've had a really bad day, I can crank things up as high as possible and bite a pillow until I feel myself finally breaking and loosening. I can put on some quiet music if I'm relaxed, wrap up in my blankets and a fan on me to make me snuggle under, and just take things slow and easy. It's nice. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel comfortable. It makes me feel I have control over how I am able to interact with my body. It makes me feel human. And really, isn't self care one of the most human things we can do...in fact, need to do...for ourselves?

And ever since starting on contra-hormonal therapy, my enjoyment of butt stuff has gone approximately through the roof. Anecdotally, I know a few people who have said and can... say the same thing...and yes, I know the plural of anecdote is never data, but it's a neat little bit of info for you to chew on. I struggled for the longest time to actually spoil myself and buy a few things to use...often with disastrous results...but having a cadre of people around me who have gone or are going through the same things I am going through has helped me get better informed ideas of what things I should look at and how to best shop for them.

Basically, it's like having a bunch of big sisters walk me through things...a bunch of big sisters I never had growing up.

Again, like puberty mark two.

(As an addendum cum side note...

Toy in butt + Hitachi on base of toy = Julie goes into orbit in app. 9 seconds.

Side note ends)

The other thing I've discovered...and I am sure at this point, you see it here in full focus...I've basically shucked off all the shame I had about discussing sex.

Even two years ago if you'd asked me about sex I'd have done a few things in quick succession:

1. I'd blush like a beet
2. I'd start stuttering
3. I'd try and change the subject to anything
4. Dear god please let's not talk about this
5. Sex is...it's a thing
6. No really please I don't want to have this talk
7. ...halp?
8. * cries*

I'm not ashamed by my sexuality, mostly because I'm actually starting to understand it, accept it, and love myself for it. I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a lesbian, that I love sex with women, that I like stuff in my butt and that I like giving over control. All these things are part of me and telling my story without talking about those things would be telling only part of the story. It'd be an incomplete picture of me...and I've spent too long displaying an incomplete false image of myself.

I came to this point through a lot of work...

...and a lot of women having very open, very frank talks with me. And having them explain to me, slowly and in small words, that there's not a single thing to be ashamed of when it came to sex..that talking about it is normal and healthy and good, and that if I didn't talk to them about the good sex I was having or hoped to have that they'd have to find out in other ways. That was hella awkward for me until I realised that it was less about being prying and more about making sure I was taking care of myself and getting what I needed to be complete. That kind of frankness was something I never had growing up, mostly because I was so terrified about who I was and what I was that there were times that holding hands and a chaste kiss on the cheek or closed mouth kiss on the lips would send me into paroxysms of abject terror.

And now today I talk about sticking 12 ounces of stainless steel in my butt.

Life is weird, isn't it?

~~~//||\\~~~

I've learned a lot about myself in the past almost three years that I've been out...

1. I've owned my being trans.
2. I've owned my being queer and gay as fuck.
3. I've discovered that there's this thing called demisexuality and it is amazing and it is me in every way.
4. Discovering that helped me to understand why I can't just have sex...that there has to be more to it than that.
5. I've discovered that there's not a single thing wrong with me sexually.
6. I've discovered that toys that are shaped like they belong on a sculpture by HR Giger are really really hot.

And learning all these things has helped me not only start to occasionally almost tolerate me...it's helped me be able to open up to others. I'd never have written any of the essays I've written without this happening. I'd never have moved into some strange kind of advocacy/activism. I'd never have taken ownership of my shortcomings and started to work actively to overcome them...

...I'd never have opened up to someone that I really kinda liked them, to find out they felt the same...an adventure that continues on apace and is one of the wildest, most difficult and most amazing things I have ever done in my life.

The sainted philosopher slash LGBT activist Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou once sang, in a simple song he wrote, the following words:

Sex is natural

Sex is fun

And it only took me 40 years to figure this out.

I can only imagine what the next 40 years will teach me now that I overcame THAT hurdle.

Thanks for reading, friends. Stay frosty.

See you in a few weeks.

Trans 101 With Julie: Let's Talk About...Sex (Again)

Hello and welcome back to Trans 101 With Julie.

If I learned anything, it's that including the word SEX in the header of one of these essays is (not necessarily) a sure way to drive views and responses (I don't actually know because I'm writing this installment before I post the previous one) (I love random access essay writing) (it's like the random access myth of Imaginos) (which was only random access cos Columbia screwed up the track order).

Last time around I talked about sex as a means of addressing some of the common misconceptions and false narratives that surround the trans community...gender vs. sex vs. orientation, 'trans panic,' et cetera. This time, like so many of my more recent pieces, I'm going to be exceptionally personal...and honestly, perhaps uncomfortably so. I'd apologise, but...I really don't much feel like it. The plain and simple fact of the matter here is this: I am a human being. I may not be exceptionally sexually driven, but being human, feeling good is something that I'd actually like to experience. And as such, having good, fulfilling sex, even if it's just with me, is something that is worth it.

As I change due to HRT, that changes.

And as candor and honesty are two things I have worked very hard to exemplify in these (plus, in like a billion years, I'd like to be able to look back at this point in my life and laugh at my stupidity and childishness), I need to be honest and open about this too.

So, like...buckle in, I guess?

~~~//||\\~~~

Sex is weird.

Like, you have no idea how weird it is.

You think you're going along, as vanilla and bog standard average as possible, and then suddenly life tosses you a giant eephus pitch and you sit there frozen in the box wondering if you should hold and look like a fool or swing and offer no doubt that you are.

And that's sex.

Sex is that big huge curving eephus pitch. Fight me.

We go through life thinking we know ourselves, that we understand ourselves, and then we're suddenly introduced to something we've never experienced before, and suddenly up is down, left is right, cats and dogs are living together in perfect harmony, and we realise that we're not the 'normal' person we think we are. Better yet, hopefully we realise that there's no bloody such thing as normal. It may be a picture, it may be a scene in a movie, it may be one of so many disparate things, and we gain some internal realisation that can be mind expanding...and a little scary.

I've had a lot of those events in my life...things like realising when I tied my hands together I really enjoyed it...like realising that certain parts of the body make me tingle (ankles and calves, I am looking at you. No, I am really looking at you)...like realising that certain smells and tastes make me want to engage in unspeakable acts of desperate passion on the parlour floor. I will admit fully that there are dozens of these, and they have ranged the gamut from 'oh that's neat' to 'my god what is wrong with me' in intensity.

Now, take those realisations and look at them through the prism of someone with a fluxing gender identity (only it wasn't really fluxing but you know at this point what I hopefully mean).

Hitting first puberty was a horrific experience for me. Instead of my hair growing I had to get it cut. Instead of breasts I got body hair. I started to smell bad. I woke up one night with something standing at full attention, and when I touched it to see what was going on I shot stuff out of it and I was sure I was dying. Loads of y'all had your first period and freaked...I had my first orgasm and was sure I'd be dead before morning.

I'm not the least bit exaggerating.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

By this point in my life I was already hiding a lot of things...like the knickers in my night stand, the little sample sized lipsticks I'd snuck...I'd tried to convince myself that this was all part of an act, that I was trying to pretend I'd been with someone and the lipstick was from their lips when we'd kissed (which obviously shows just how well I understood kissing at that point) (and by how well I obviously mean not well at all)...but I knew it was something else.

I lost my virginity to a guy.

Because I figured, despite KNOWING what was going on, that it all had to mean I was really actually gay. Gay at least made some kind of sense, I hoped...and maybe it'd hurt less when I got beat up, I don't know. I lived in Nowhere, Middle of and it's not like anyone had any language for what any of this meant.

So I KNEW I was gay...and sex with a guy was horrific.

But I was gay.

~~~//||\\~~~

My sexuality has always been a complicated thing.

I've never exactly been good at the whole sex thing in general, and I'll expand on that by saying that I enjoy sex, I enjoy how it feels, but the mechanics are wickedly difficult and it takes a great deal for me to actually get to a place where sex is something I would consider as an option for me with someone. I can't say that I look at people who can have casual sex in any bad way, but I can't personally understand it because I'm not programmed like that. Maybe that's why I'd basically had absolutely ZERO satisfying fulfilling sexual experiences for most of the first...oh...35 years of my life? And I had sex. Not a lot, but I had sex.

And there was a spouse, but that is not a story for these essays.

In high school I developed a first crush. She was nice, and pretty, and blonde, and I thought she was pretty damned nifty. I went to my first prom with her. And everyone knew I had a mad crush on her. But I don't know if anything would have come of it. And yes, I know I'm saying this through the 20/20 vision of hindsight, but what had always been complicated (ref., my sexuality and my ability to consider physical intimacy as viewed through the prism of knowing my identity but rejecting it) was becoming more so. I had my first realisation that not only did I want to be a girl, I wanted to be with a girl. And that meant that I was straight...or was I? Guys were already making the 'but I'm a lesbian trapped in a straight man's body!' joke, and do you have any idea how that fucked me up in the head?

I was already stealthing certain things under the premise that obviously this was just a fetish type thing (yes at 16 I understood fetishes and the like) and how would I explain that if I ever even got to bat let alone actually touched a base? But girls were...like, they were pretty and smelled nice and I envied how they dressed and god in heaven what is wrong with me.

But hey...I can just call myself bi. And totally totally a guy.

Even tho...umm...I have to explain to you why you found a bottle of your nail polish in my room, parental unit of mine.

But that's OK cos I can bring up the guys in Aerosmith or Lou Reed and that makes it totally OK cos I'm emulating rock stars that's totally it!

Just...don't ask me to explain why those ankle straps are not the way they were, OK?

I still barely tolerated my penis, tossed off basically so it'd just shut up and go away, and I'd toss and turn at night hoping that if I just through strong enough all of this would just straighten out and I'd wake up fixed.

And I wasn't even remotely sure what that'd mean for me.

But at least I liked girls, and that meant I wasn't gay.

~~~//||\\~~~

After I graduated high school, I went to my first performance of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Any illusions I had that I'd eventually grow out of things were exploded into so much particulate.

I saw and met women who were confident in their sexuality, and who terrified me because I wanted to BE them so badly, and wanted to be who they were kissing.

I saw and met men who were assured in their presence, who blurred or obliterated binary gender roles so fully that I had a moment of realisation that there never was a 0-1 system, but rather a gradient that shifted fluidly and imperceptibly subtly from point to point. I already had extreme difficulty reconciling who I was and how I presented and how I defined and described myself and now any possible clue I had that I knew anything was gone.

I went to 100 performances.

I ended up joining the cast as the Criminologist.

Understudied Rocky.

And on one memorable night, got to play Janet.

And that last one is the one I remember most of all.

I still had no idea who I was or what I was...or rather, despite all of this I had no way to accept that who I was was who I was because of upbringing and my life to this point and so on.

And when someone ended up crossing paths, the conservative staid side of me leaped for what I figured people wanted/needed/accepted, and entered into my first real relationship.

We had sex.

It wasn't great.

I found the voice to say there were certain things about me...'Listen I like cross dressing but I am totally a guy and totally like you know I just like it, so ok?'...in the hopes that the lie would be enough to allow me to go on.

And maybe for a while it was.

Only it never is for long.

And you...I...need to be honest. And you...I...need to come to grips with the truth you've been fighting all your life, because even though you've known yourself you've rejected yourself for so long that you're not even sure what the truth is anymore. You just know that it hurts like fire and ice and it burns and chills and if you don't say something soon it'll continue to rot you from the inside out until you can't do it anymore.

So you say it, finally.

You explain that you're a woman. You explain that you're submissive, that you like handing over control. You explain that there's no sexual thrill in wearing those clothes, they're just right.

And you get silence.

Uncomfortable silence.

Had I been honest...had I been strong...I'd have done the right thing and found a way to stop things sooner than they ended up exploding. But I got sick, got diagnosed with cancer, and that has a way of drawing people together at first. And we did draw together...even when there was obvious discomfort in the fact that as weight kept melting off me (I lost close to 75 pounds in a month thanks to chemo and vomiting) the only clothes I could wear that stayed on were dresses. The truth came out in little ways...the sigh as I cried over my hair coming out, even after cropping it...the looks when I'd be sitting cross legged and my toe nail polish was visible...and by truth I obviously mean for more than one person.

I tried going out once or twice as me.

That didn't go well at all.

And it carried along...Julie straight...and by straight I obviously mean totally a lesbian but considering I was still feeling forced to be a man...well, you get the picture, doing all the house stuff (cooking/cleaning/dishes/vacuuming/laundry/etc.) and trying to muddle through, with each day hurting more than the one before.

Sex became infrequent.

I didn't care.

It, like so many things, came to an explosive end as I laid in a hospital bed, having had a heart attack several days before, when I was told she'd be moving back in with her mother as soon as I was discharged. And with no way to handle rent on my own for a 2 bedroom apartment, nor any ability to find a room mate on such short notice, let alone one who would potentially even understand my situation...I moved home too.

And I had no idea what was next...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Trans culture is...

trans culture is getting followed by someone who is (probably?) a chaser then going through their follows to find cool trans women to follow

Trans culture is instinctively dissociating at the slightest inconvenience

trans culture is being a teenager in your thirties

Trans culture is slowly accepting that you're actually cute because your friends say you are hundreds of times per day >w<

trans culture is thinking of your friends who are half your age as older because they started transitioning first

Trans culture is making a trans culture meme joke and hoping you get many retweets for it

trans culture is having close friends who are anywhere from half to twice your age

trans culture is telling people you dont have a mic or webcam when they wanna talk

Trans culture is giggling at anything that has 'trans' somewhere in its name

Trans culture is having 2 emotions: Mood and BIG MOOD

trans culture is being too afraid of cis men to use the bathroom that u want to use

Trans culture is cruising down the freeway w/open windows, blasting @LauraJaneGrace at full volume.

Trans culture is having an undercut.

trans culture is me playing transgender dysphoria blues over the speakers at work

Trans culture is blatantly snagging handfuls of salt packets from fast food places

trans culture is having trust issues with and being slow to befriend cis people but instantly becoming bffs with any trans people you meet

trans culture w/hrt is going to the bathroom before sleep, after waking up, and 3 more times a day

Trans girl culture is catching a dude staring at you and not being sure if he's just a creep or if he clocked you... or both

trans woman culture is cool socks

trans girl culture is screaming into your 30's and then you become a witch cause an adult princess is "weird"

trans culture is rioting, marching, and violence as a means of community self-defense. That's our history. Read a book

Trans femme culture is always choosing the female character in a video game and your male friends always asking why

Trans lady culture is using the sentence "back when I was pretending to be a straight boy..."

Trans guy culture is appreciating the lil bump in jeans that gives you a fake boner

Trans boy culture is owning too many button up plaid shirts.. bonus if they're short sleeve

Trans 101 With Julie: Things I've Learned While On Trans Twitter

Hello and welcome back to Trans 101 With Julie. I am the titular Julie, and I'm glad you decided to pop by today.

The past several months have been chock a block with struggling, I won't lie. From medical issues to medicine issues to dysphoria to depression, there have been very few days where I've felt at all good. That meant taking a long hard look at things I was doing and making rash decisions on them.

For example, I spent a lot of the summer finding my place socially on line, and part of that entailed shutting off Facebook and withdrawing pretty heavily from that platform. Instead, I spent a lot of time on Twitter, a platform I've been on for a while, but really didn't get into a lot...at least til this summer. Over the past year or so a lot of people may have heard the term Black Twitter for the very strong community that has grown up around and for that culture. The trans community is no different. We are diverse of course, but there's a lot of cross pollination from sub group to sub group.

So here are some things I've learned this summer on Trans Twitter.


1) You may never meet as amazing a group of friends anywhere else. You have access essentially to every trans person in the world...and you will find people who share your interests, expose you to new ones, and love you for the person you are. They treat you like...well, like just another person. And that is one of the most affirming things in the world...you don't have to perform.


2) Everyone crushes on everyone. It's really kind of true. The extension/corollary to this is everyone is apparently dating everyone else. Let's face it...who's going to get you as well as another person just like you? Not many people, that's who. It's actually very funny in a lot of ways...transmisists like Ray Blanchard obsess over how when we transition we won't be attractive enough to find mates...yet find a group of girls (or guys, I'm guessing it's similar on that side) and before long you'll have open invitations to go just about anywhere, with promises of local food, sight seeing, and cuddles (or more depending on stuff). I know if I travel the country I prolly have a network of dozens of friends who will take me in, make me food I've never had before, and cuddle on the couch for Doctor Who and stuff. It's a neat feeling, not gonna lie.


3) If you think you're on the left, trust me...it goes further. Yes, there are conservative trans girls. And yes, there are alt right trans girls. But at least when it comes to the community I've fallen in with, the most right leaning of the girls I now would be described as a socialist, and everyone else tends to lean anarchist. This is because one thing we learn very quickly is...


4) No matter what you thought before, the Democratic party is not on your side. Essentially, what you pick up on is the fact that Democrats are rethuglicans with blue ties. It's almost easier to find trans hatred and transphobia from dems as it is from rethugs. It's all the sadder because one would think we'd find support somewhere...and it's from groups like the DSA and IWW. I won't make the 'both sides are as bad as the other' statement...but it's pretty damned close.


5) Are you having a bad day? Someone is having a bad day for the same exact reasons, and you will find each other, and you will bond. It happens all the time. It's frightening at the surface, and more so the deeper you go as you realise how quickly y'all end up finding each other. Friendships have started for less...and I'm sure there's one or two cases where it went like this:

Person A: I'm having a shit day for reasons
Person B: I too a having a shit day for reasons.
(one week passes)
Person A & B: Hey everyone we wanted to announce we're engaged.


6) You will learn about your body through others. Have you ever thought hey, my legs aren't terrible? Go ahead, post a pic. An hour later you will have 35 likes, 10 girls telling you how much your legs slay, 7 girls posting OH GOSH and/or WOW I'M SO GAY at you, and three date offers in your DMs. Someone will ask for a selfie and you will hear every little thing that's good about you that you never saw yourself because you have dysphoria and are societally programmed to reject your appearance because you don't look traditionally femme. You will learn that there are approximately a million different body types out there, and every woman you think is beautiful will turn around and tell you the same thing. And the best part? They mean it.


7) You will have a much better grasp on your sexuality and how your body sexually responds than ever in your life. Sex for me was always a hella awkward thing for VERY obvious reasons. And thanks to hormones, it became even more awkward and ungainly. But meeting and getting to know so many sex positive women who had been exactly where I was was a godsend...because all of a sudden I had a cadre of older sisters, many of whom were younger than me, helping me understand and find ways to please myself and find pleasure that would work for my body and not cause me to get upset and dysphoric. They verified a lot of the things I had discovered on my own, and the degree of frank discussion about sex was...at first terrifying, but became kind of normal. I mean hell, I've even reached a point where performing isn't something that I'd be averse to with the right people...and with an indy studio (or Crash Pad, but) and ethical production...

As did the use of gay as an all purpose term that ranged in use from self identification (I am so gay) to complimenting a photograph (OMG that selfie made me gay) to flirting (I am so gay for you) to...you get the idea. It's all very good and pure, really.


8) Compersion is a huge thing. One of the biggest issues I've seen outside of trans twitter is jealousy. I've lost friendships over the fact that I was out in public...over the fact that I'm on estrogen...over the fact that I'm in a happy, healthy, and committed relationship. It hurts. It truly does. I am not going to say there isn't jealousy in the twitter trans community; for example, I'm jealous of the fact that a bunch of people I like a lot as friends can hang out regularly for all kinds of fun, including playing Warhammer. But more powerful than that jealousy is my happiness at seeing pix of them hanging out and smiling and laughing. That part outweighs by far any jealousy I have. And finding joy in someone else's happiness is enlightening and revealing. And frankly, it's wonderful.

It's also selfish in a way, but selfish in the best possible way.


9) An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. A lot of the cliques/polycules/etc are incestuous enough that if we hear someone we haven't met yet is getting bombed by TERFs and brogamers and so on, there'll be an influx of us coming to their defense. I've seen it happen enough to know it's not really an isolated situation. If you remember the Bored Panda debacle from a few months ago, it's much like that. It's a powerful thing and something that I really cherish about the people I consider my real family.


10) Some trans people are the biggest Quislings you will ever find. After all that positiveness, it sucks to write something so drastically negative. But it's true. I believe in other communities there are words for this kind of person, but they're not my words so I'll refrain, and just use the generic Quisling. But. You see trans people, often in a position of privilege (and by that I typically mean upper class/professional/etc) who forget exactly where they came from and decided to pull the ladder up behind them as quickly as possible. You see a lot of appeasement policies bandied about by them...a lot of respectability politics. You see people saying we need to listen to TERFs and try to find a common ground with them. This goes down about as well as you'd expect, really. You see some trans people saying 'don't say TERF it's a slur' or 'stop calling them cis, they don't like that.' I'm fortunate on that level, but the biggest majority of the people I hang with are either activists, creatives, or porn performers or sex workers, so they tend to be pretty distrustful of systems in general and cynical by nature...and dear Artemis do I identify there.


It'll quite possibly be one of the most life changing experiences you'll ever have. Since getting involved in the community, I've been able to connect with, and become friends with, some amazing writers/activists like Katelyn Burns, Zinnia Jones and Stef Sanjati. I've met so many people that I admired and looked up to as role models and gotten to know them on a much deeper level, and it's been amazing for my incredibly fragile self esteem...not because I define myself by those friendships but because when I'm struggling these people, and countless others, check in on me and make sure I'm OK. And then, for every bit that I admire them, I see them say nice things about me and it just...it's support and kindness and love I never had much of before discovering the trans community online.

It's just really wonderful, and affirming, and helps sustain me so much.


These are, as always, really just one person's experiences on this, but even if not every point is one of commonality, I think that a lot of this would be true of many of my friends on twitter, and something I could comfortably assert would be things you could find there. Was I, or am I, very lucky? Perhaps. But luck is something I am NOT well acquainted with so I'd prefer to lean toward trans twitter just being a good place for us, period.

I'd be curious about your experiences and feelings, so if you have anything you'd like to bring to the table, the floor is open to discussion. As always, I hope that this has been fun and maybe a little informative for you. Let me know if you have any questions, and I'll see you back here next time.

Take care, and stay alive <3

Trans 101 With Julie: Here Comes the Sun...or How It Does Get Better

Hello there and welcome back to Trans 101 With Julie. I am, more definitively than any day previously, your host Julie.

I had plans for what I'd be writing/posting next, but things this week have me going in a different direction. Looking back at the posts I've written, I worry that perhaps I focus a lot on things that people would call depressing or negative about this process. I prefer to call them realistic because let's face it, the world is not designed to support us well at all. The thing is, for a lot of people who may be coming out, or considering coming out...or family members worried about a younger member of their family who just came out, that awareness is needed, but so is reinforcement that this is in the end, a Very Good Thing and will end up making things So Much Better.

So.

Today I want to talk about some of the things that I've noticed or experienced that are positive, affirming, and help me to realise that despite the sorrow, despite the pain...that coming out and refusing to live the lie anymore was the best thing I ever did.

Let me start here. Join me as we part the hazy veils of time and travel back to my misspent teen years as a high school student in Podunk New Jersey. I've written some about my youth, and how hard it was to cope with what was going on feeling, much like what will follow, and much like most trans girls of a certain age group, no matter the generation. But let's start here, shall we?

My senior year in high school, I decided I'd do the school musical for the second time. That year, the musical was Sweet William, an off-Broadway musical about the pre-Globe life of William Shakespeare. As the director was going over the parts, he mentioned an aging boy actor from the Coventry Pagent names Salathiel Sidcup (please note to this day I loathe the name, but...). And played piano and vocal recordings of his two solos...the introductory recitative 'Forsooth' and the set-piece 'Hey Nonny No.'

Please, just go with me on this, OK?

Both pieces were essentially countertenor pieces...intended as boy soprano in the era, and most likely with the part designed to be played by a woman. What I do know is that at that point in my life the high note in Bohemian Rhapsody? I could hit that chest voice. And people knew it. And thus, half the room turned to me and stared. And after that first meeting, I was surrounded by a bunch of people saying 'You are trying out for that part, right?'

'Umm, we'll see,' sayeth Julie, unconvincingly.

'No,' one replied. 'You ARE trying out for that part.'

Umm...OK.

Of course I wanted to do it because I could sing it, but I knew at that point I'd also be playing Ophelia in Hamlet for my set piece...and I am sure you can see where this is going.

My audition still stands out in my mind, as I'm asked to go through scales and we just keep going up and up and up. The director asks me to tra la la. I do it. He goes 'No...pretend you're Snow White and you're in the forest.' So I go flamboyant (I am not flamboyant. *flounces*) And skip around the room singing to my heart's content.

Later, I find out on my audition sheet the director wrote, following my performance, 'Yes yes Salathiel Sidcup yes yes.'

He calls my dad to explain things. Explains the musical. Explains my part. Explains I'll be in a dress on stage. Explains I may get a lot of bullying. Explains that at his previous school when they did Peter Pan and a boy was a possibility for the part of Peter he'd make the same calls since Peter is iconically Cathy Rigby or Mary Martin or Sandy Duncan. My dad goes 'You know that (deadname) walks around North wearing a pink denim jacket, right?'

That puts paid to that.

Abbreviate, Julie. We're already 500 words in on this flashback and we have more things to talk about today.

The time on stage...be it the intro to my character (which usually results in awkward shocked silence from the audience as male appearing me starts singing like a lyric soprano), or mostly the 5 minutes or so on stage as Ophelia (in floor length burgundy velvet gown, full make up, blonde wig (today I'd totally argue for fiery red)...it's the first time in high school I felt totally free. Where I felt like myself.

At the end of the musical's run, awards are given out by the tech crew to the cast. I am awarded the Best Actress award, and I know it wasn't meant as some kind of swipe at me. We had a very non binary, gender confused cast (in an era where non binary was never used, and possibly the only gender confused cast member won the Best Actress award only she wasn't confused, she just had a penis and no breasts yet), and I was proud that they felt comfortable giving me that.

I cherish it to this day.

Note...I wasn't out then.

Not by a long shot. 

I wasn't just in the closet...I was, like, in a closet in the closet in the closet in the closet in the closet in the closet. I'd achieved Closetception decades before Inception was a thing...long before 'yo dawg we heard you like cars so we put a car in your car so you can car while you car.'

But...I felt alive.

Because I felt closer to myself than I ever have before.

That's carried on, and in fact has only gotten stronger.

Let me give you a more current example...hormones.

I've struggled with dysphoria for....as long as I can remember having conscious thought. I was depressed as a 4 year old, for Artemis' sake. What 4 year old is depressed over anything but not being allowed another pudding pop, I ask you? But I was. THe depression was bad, and deep, and all encompassing, and honestly, it continues to this day in one form or another.

I finally got put on estrogen, after way too long waiting, on 6 December 2016.

So, as I write this, I am nearly 7 full months in on a full regimen of contra-hormonal therapy.

So let me tell you how it's changed me.

Firstly, I feel emotions now. I feel all of them, and sometimes that's overwhelming, but I feel emotions. Despite being on SSRIs most of my life, I never felt what happy was...and depression wasn't sad but rather numb emptiness and blankness. Now, though...I feel happiness as a thing. I'm still not used to it, and ofttimes I find myself over-reacting to things, simply because I'm not calibrated fully yet to get it. But laughing? It's a new thing, and it's neat, and I like it. I like the feeling of warmth that comes over me when someone tells me they love me...or the fluttery feeling when my bunbun does something nice for me as a surprise just because she wanted to.

They're neat feelings.

Feeling is neat.

I do recommend it.

Even when it's sadness...because feeling sadness rather than numb blankness is genuine and it is real and honesty is so important.

Because I'm able to feel happiness, I am a better friend.

I should amend that... because I'm able to FEEL, I am a better friend.

I am more empathetic to people. I can listen better. I can care better. I can support better. I think I'm more attentive, more willing to listen and advise, and just better at being there. I admit sometimes this bites me in the posterior, as I am learning how not to over-extend myself, but...it's something that makes me feel like a better person. 

Please note...I'm not saying I doormat myself. I used to doormat myself. I don't anymore. I do things because I want to, not because I feel I need to in order to be deigned worthy of attention or friendship.

I think more clearly.

I have less static in my brain on a day to day basis, so I can think more clearly, maintain attention better, and work through tasks easier. In the past, I'd sit down to write one of these and be jumping all over the place, flipping through dozens of tabs in a browser, skipping through eighty billion songs on Winamp, fidgeting, et cetera. I still do....well...some of that, let's be honest. But generally I can focus on things so much better that something that'd take 3 or 4 hours to sort of sketch out and then write takes far less.

I also do creative things in other avenues now....things I'd never done before.

I've taken up sketching and drawing.

I do more photography.

I play with video editing.

I've gone back to my guitar and bass, and I'm working up some stuff for an EP.

These are things that I've been better equipped to do since coming out, and even more so since I started on hormones. I like to think that it's because my synapses are firing more completely, or that with the numbness and blankness gone, I can connect to life and creativity more fully. I just feel more...awake. And aware. And I like it.

I'm a better person.

This is something I often struggle with, because while I can see the things I mention above, I don't know if they are, perhaps, only true for me.

So I did the only thing I could think of...

I asked my friends. 

So, I'm going to share what some of them said about this:

Reaca: "Since HRT? There's more... peace. 

Like...you've stepped into the exhale of life. Yes you're still badass and active as hell fighting the shit... but idk... it's like... hmmm.... stepping into your power or something. I remember the excitement and the frenzied ease (is that possible?) with which you shared your HRT start with me. Maybe it was just that we've grown to know each other better since then. But I *see you* settling into your Self in a way that before you (maybe) were striving to settle, but always itchy. (Forgive the myriad of mixed metaphors.)"

Leslie: "This is kind of difficult to put into words. It has been like watching a cocoon transform into a butterfly, but then the butterfly transformed into a machete wielding, transphobe slaying butterfly.

When we first met you were more quiet.

As time went on you were gradually louder, but very gradually.

Since starting HRT, it seems like you have stepped into the role of a leader. That might not be what you would call it or even be what you wanted but as you became more vocal about transphobe fuckery, you have become someone that others can look to for insight, strength, and consultation. This I see as a positive quality that is much better expressed today."

Jenn: "I didn't think it was possible for you to become more passionate as you are truly one of the most passionately splendid women I have ever known.....

But you have blossomed.

Always beautiful blossom but sometimes with a locomotive, full steam ahead behind it. The train of emotion and power was always there. Now it is truly this powerful locomotive with a destination. With purpose."

Liz: "You have become more confident in who you are for sure which has allowed you to be freer in all aspects of your life.

Personality wise you are very much still you just going through puberty again. There are many emotions there for you, but they are normal. I can say I see you blossoming into a an even awesomer version of you. An authentic you? Not really sure how to word it. Physically you've definitely changed and it's had a positive affect on you. I see you loving your body more and more over time.

You are more open and vocal for sure. :-)

You're connecting more and well much of what I said before. Also the walls you had up to protect you from everyone have changed. While you are still protective of yourself, it has changed to a place where you can reach out and so can others."

I hesitated, at first, assembling this bit, because it feels very self aggrandising to me. At the same time, asking people has been revelatory to me, because these are things I honestly don't see when I am trying to survive day to day. This isn't internalised feelings, like I've spent some 1500 words bleeding out in on a digital page...this is a group of people who have known me both before and after I started estrogen...and in a couple cases, before I'd even come out watching from the outside.

I know there is a lot to be said that's not exactly positive about the It Gets Better campaign...sometimes it doesn't. And coming out is not a panacea that will magically cure all ills in the world.

But you see, when the proverbial rubber hits the even more proverbial road...

It does get better.

It gets more honest.

More genuine.

More complete.

More real.

When things are darkest, the friends I have I know will listen without prejudice, will love without question, and will accept the truth from me, no matter how hard it is for me to say it sometimes. I don't have to lie to them about why I am feeling the way I am feeling, and they don't pay me lip service. They listen and understand. And that is a huge thing. Honesty begets honesty.

It gets better.

Life becomes more worth living.

Every day I am becoming more authentically myself.

I am taking care of myself.

I am loving myself.

It just...gets better.

So remember that, OK? If you're reading this, and you are afraid to come out, afraid of what the reaction you'll get is, you know what? I get it. I honestly do. And it's totally OK to be scared. It's normal, and honestly, if you weren't scared I'd be worried. But you are stronger than you think, and you are so strong that you have made it this far. And I am fucking proud of you for that. There are people out there who care, who see you in a metaphorical sense, who have been where you are right now, and you do not have to do this alone.

You never have to be alone.

We've got you.

I'm going to provide some resources at the end for you to check out, and if you have any questions, I can be found in a wide range of places and I can always find time to talk to you if you need a friendly ear:

Twitter: @xycyberjulie

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julez.knispel

As always, I appreciate your reading my essays. I take a lot of time to make sure that I express myself as clearly as possible, and impart as much information as I do my own personal life experiences into what I share. If it's been of any use or help to you, please feel free to share...that's why I make these available to the public.

Thanks, and I'll see you again next time.

Be good to each other...and yourselves.

http://www.transyouthequality.org/coming-out/

http://www.thetrevorproject.org/section/YOU

http://www.pflagnyc.org/support/suggestedreading

http://www.thegenderbook.com/coming-out-resources/4581632123

https://www.lambdalegal.org/issues/transgender-rights

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/nov/29/transgender-advice-best-resources-online

https://www.pflag.org/transgender

http://www.transstudent.org/sites

https://www.glaad.org/transgender/resources

Trans 101 With Julie: On The Care And Feeding Of Your Trans Friends

Hello and welcome back to Trans 101 with Julie.

After two weeks of screaming into the void, I'd really like to try and bring things back to more of a...centered, grounded area, I guess. There is a LOT I could be ranting about here (specifically Tina Fey's white feminist/white liberal bit on Weekend Update/SNL on 18 August), but I'd rather turn inward and take a slightly different tack this time around.

So here's a fact:

Living while trans is an act of resistance.

Here's another:

Living while trans is the act of a radical.

People refuse to recognise or respect our existence and identity. We're called mentally ill (well, actually, we're called sick, demented, crazy, insane, lunatics, degenerates), depraved, rapists, autogynephiles (that is, men who derive sexual pleasure from being women...a 'condition' that DOES NOT EXIST), confused about our identities...the list goes on. People tell us we have to expose what we are...yet when we come out, we lose homes, families, friends, jobs...and often our lives. And for as much as these things impact me...they impact trans women of colour a billionty and eleven times harder.

Right now, at this point in history and in this country, we are under siege. We're every bit as targeted by the neo-confederates and Nazis (no neo there...they are Nazis pure and simple) as other marginalised groups...we are targeted by hate groups dedicated to getting us all on tables to be electrocuted into 'normalcy.' Finally, we are targeted by the government, which is currently in a step by step process seemingly designed to lead to our complete disenfranchisement, dehumanisation, and eventual removal of citizenship and re-education.

And I'm not really joking here.

The point is, we're under extreme amounts of pressure. And we do what we always do...we pull inward, look after our own, care for each other and counsel and support...often to our extreme detriment. Burnout comes fast, and I speak with experience on that as well.

What's the point?

I'll tell you.

There are a number of things you (yes you!) can be doing right now to help the trans guy or girl...or enby...or pangender...or genderfluid...or agender...or...in your life. These are all super easy things, and you may not think any of them are that big a deal, trust me...for us, these are...well, they're practically life saving.

Here we go...without further ado, Julie's Hints And Tips For The Care And Feeding Of Your Trans Friends!

~~~//||\\~~~

1a) Call them!

Alternatively...

1b) Message them!

This seems silly. 'But Julie, I talk to my friend all the time,' you say. And I am sure you do, because you are a kind and decent human being. But this isn't just a typical 'Hi!' kind of message we're talking about right now.

Let me give you a few examples of the kinds of messages I am referring to:

“Hey...just wanted to check in...”

“Hey there...I wanted to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Are you drinking plenty? Eating?”

“Hey... just checking in and letting you know I care and hope you're hanging in there.”

There are two themes here. The first is this: all of these are actual messages I've gotten from friends checking in on me. Theme two is this: each message expresses concern in a manner that invites engagement and doesn't demand it. It's not small talk. It's not a random hi like I might get any day of the week. It's active and establishing a desire for connection...yet it does not force the recipient to reply if they are unable to.

When I reach terminal overload, several things happen, either in quick succession or simultaneously: I withdraw. I go non verbal. I alternate not being able to sleep and sleeping all the time. I stop drinking and eating. I stop taking my medications. Obviously none of these things are good individually...in tandem they are nearly guaranteed to cause physical breakdown, illness...and worse.

Often, having someone outside me ask me these things is enough to break me out of the cycle long enough in order to think about self-care that I can get up and grab something small, even if it's just a slice of peanut butter bread and some water. That can be the impetus to come out enough to allow someone to help me more directly. I'm not saying it works for everyone, but it works for me. Reaching out, expressing care and worry in a non judgmental manner, is one of the smallest yet most human things you can do for your trans friend right now (any time really, but especially right now). We'll remember these things...and they'll mean the world to us. Trust is a hard thing for us to give anyone, even in the best of times...but little acts of kindness help a lot.

At the same time...sometimes, having someone on the other end of the phone (or VoIP connection, or what have you) is all I need to open up a little and let things go emotionally. Many are the times someone asks if they can call...or in my better moments, if I can call them...and as soon as I hear their voice the levee breaks and I cry uncontrollably for the duration of the call. If you are someone your trans friend truly trusts and is open with, you need to know this may or will happen. Don't run from this...it IS a big responsibility, but it is also a huge gift to have someone trust you enough to be raw and vulnerable like that. Treat it with the care that it deserves, because it's a massive gift.

~~~//||\\~~~

2) Stop by (with consent and advance warning, of course)

When I am overwhelmed, as I said above, I start shutting down hardcore. I've done days where I don't get out of bed. Yes, I know I have depression, and it may be easy to try and equate this with that. I'm sure it contributes, and I would never try and say otherwise. I also know people have seen me as I start to overstimulate and become overwhelmed, and know they've had to lead me out of rooms because I literally could not move on my own.

So as part of your check in, you could gently offer to stop by. Offer to watch movies together. Suggest a safe outing somewhere where you can get away a little. These may not be possible, and again, I'm not suggesting that these are 100% guaranteed to work options. For example, I have been known to be terrified to be alone yet not wanting another person anywhere near me. That makes it hard. But times like that I'd likely be OK with someone coming over and doing stuff on their own in the same room as me as long as they didn't force me to be involved. Just knowing someone is there and I'm a bit safer than I was is a huge relief.

Stress does hella weird things to you, obviously, and everyone needs different things when they're dealing with the slow, inexorable, entropic decay of civilisation and the universe. If you know someone well enough that you'd be hanging out regularly, you'll have a rough idea the kinds of things your friend needs. Tailor it to that.

Don't freak out if you visit and we break down crying. Realise that...well, I said it just above, so I'll just reiterate it here, because repetition is not necessarily a bad thing:

“If you are someone your trans friend truly trusts and is open with, you need to know this may or will happen. Don't run from this...it IS a big responsibility, but it is also a huge gift to have someone trust you enough to be raw and vulnerable like that. Treat it with the care that it deserves, because it's a massive gift.”

~~~//||\\~~~

3) Food.

This ties into the previous two, and really isn't a cry for free meals.

We get stressed. We forget to eat. Yes, you can laugh, but think back to times in your life when stress has hit you so bad that you don't know up from down, left from right. I bet you can think of a good few times when the last thing on your mind is food...cooking it, or eating it, or whatever.

Well, believe me, your friend (who is also conveniently in this case and for this essay trans) is just like you. They're stressed. They're freaking out because of what the government is doing. They're terrified because more trans people are being murdered this year than last year which was more than the year before which was...you get it. They're getting hit by more directed hate than in recent memory. Randos are sending them hate mail, death threats, rape threats, rape AND murder threats, hateful memes, etc. And food is the last thing on our minds.

Welp, you just got told 'Yeah, I really could use some company.' And you told them 'Listen, don't worry about cleaning I know you're under a lot right now I understand it's OK' and they kind of sighed and said 'thank you' quietly.

On the way over, stop off and pick up something they like.

Or make something in advance (something easy to re-heat or portion out) and bring it with you.

It's a huge act of kindness.

It may be the first thing we've eaten in days.

It gives you both something to bond over.

And if you, say, make a tray of lasagna or mac and cheese or some sort, you've made it so they don't have to make food for a few days...they can scoop out a bowl and nuke it, or cut a piece and nuke it (or if their name is Julie, eat it cold too cos Italian is always good cold) and get some much needed nutrition in. It's a selfishly selfless way for you to help...you'll feel good, they'll feel good, and you can have a quiet meal and both feel a little better afterwards.

If you can't cook...well, there are still plenty of options. Pick up a frozen lasagna or something similar. But cook it before coming over, otherwise it may sit in our freezer for months...or we'll just sit it in the fridge til it's defrosted and eat it without cooking. Grab some cans of soup or Chef Boyardee...stuff that doesn't require a lot of prep. Stop at Taco Bell or Wendy's. If there is ever a time where junky food is an acceptable option, it's right now...tho having said that, a couple 99 cent burgers from McD's have more protein and stuff in them than any other food at the same price, so...

I'm not trying to say we're helpless.

I AM trying to say that in moments like this, we may need more help than we're willing to admit to.

So ask. And then do.

~~~//||\\~~~

4) Ask permission.

This is key with any thing you do right now.

Ask us.

Ask us if you can call. Ask us if you can stop over. Ask us if we've eaten/been drinking proper fluids/taking our meds. Ask us what we need. Ask us these things without prejudice or judgment. Don't order. Don't ever order. Don't ever demand.

And be gentle.

Again, I am sure this seems very...well, very 'why does she even have to say this?'

But here's the fact of the matter: when we are in DEFCON 1 status, even a normally asked question can sound like condemnation. We're hyper-vigilant. We're on alert. And while I am not suggesting that we need to be coddled or babied, tone and delivery is important...basically, like your momma always said, 'Not not what you said...it's how you said it.'

So ask us these things.

Ask us if we want a hug. We may not be up for that. Hell, we may not want you to hug us cos we haven't showered in a week and we won't want our funk on you. Or maybe we're so stressed out that our skin hurts, and contact will literally cause us to cry in pain. Asking shows awareness. It shows concern. It shows compassion and caring. Finally, it shows that you are trying to be attentive and not overbearing, and those are all things that mean the world to us.

Ask us if there's things we need help with. I know so much of this seems to be me saying 'I am incapable of caring for myself, please take over,' but that's not the case at all. In these situations we MAY be literally incapable of caring for ourselves...or we may just need a little bit of engine priming before we can get back up with someone's help and start trying to reassemble some kind of framework. Be that support. It's what friends do. It's what human beings do.

So ask. And respect the response you get.

~~~//||\\~~~

5) Don't tag us in.

Let me explain this one.

Call our (and I guess the inverse is...call in?) culture is big. We see something that's offensive/sexist/racist/homophobic/transmisist/misogynistic/etc., and we want to be good human beings and put that person on blast. We want to challenge them, challenge their hateful views and opinions. It's right to do this, and we all need to do more of it.

What we don't need to do is tag in someone from one of those communities to bring their attention to it.

You doing this achieves a number of things, and none of them are good:

a) It smacks of wanting cookies or brownie points or gold stars for LOOK HOW GOOD AN ALLY I AM

b) It reminds us yet again that people hate us, see us as less than human, and they want nothing more than for us to disappear, possibly permanently.

c) It shows us that you really don't understand us in any way shape or form.

d) It makes us wonder if we can trust you.

e) It causes us to withdraw from you.

f) It causes us to question if our other friends are just like this.

Post all you want on your FB/Twitter/Tumblr/whatever about this. But ask people if they want tagged in/called in on it. And honestly, don't ask us. Some of us are angry enough that we'd do it anyway, and likely are already aware that the thing you want us to see is there...in fact, chances are we saw it before you. The plain and simple fact of the matter is we're honestly too focused on the hundreds of bits of hate we get lobbed at us every day in real life and on line from strangers to then have a friend doing the same under the guise of LOOK HOW HORRIBLE THESE PEOPLE ARE OMG

Be a friend.

Protect us.

And for the love of god, Montressor...don't play the 'I have a trans friend, and they...' card. That card gets played by the other side ALL THE TIME. It's shit, and used as a way to try and weaken arguments against their hate. Don't do this because you have a trans friend...or do, for all I care. Just, don't say you're doing it because you have a trans friend. Do it because you're a human being and human beings take care of the marginalised and protect them from the oppressor.

In the saying and the doing, we are not fragile glass sculptures to be kept in a locked menagerie...but we are human, and humans are allowed to be many things. Right now, in our current sociopolitical environment, that does mean we're at a higher risk of things. You may be the biggest thing keeping your friend going, and all it takes is a couple small acts of basic decency and humanity to make all the difference. In a time of hate, a small act of love can make all the difference to one person.

Be that act of love.

See you next time, friends.

Shantih shantih shantih.