Hello world. This is a post which is Actually Important, so please read it. Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. A day when we remember and honour all the transgender folks who have died because of anti-transgender violence or suicide.
I’m not dead yet, and I’m planning to keep it that way for a good long while. But like the majority of trans people, I often have to struggle for my existence. Both because of inner demons and because I’m an openly transgender activist. So I’m going to steal this opportunity to talk about me.
As most of you know, I’m transgender. I identify as neither man nor woman (genderqueer, non-binary and agender are words which accurately describe my identity). Yes, it’s a real thing, and there are many of us. My preferred pronoun is they (“hen” in Swedish).
I suffer from gender dysphoria. This means that there are parts of my body and/or gender identity assigned at birth that I don’t identify with. It’s not simply an issue of being unhappy about them, as one might be about e.g. the shape of one’s nose or the colour of one’s hair. It’s rather a case of not being able to relate, on a fundamental level, to the fact that they are part of me.
It’s like looking in the mirror and seeing someone else. It’s like hearing someone else’s voice when speaking. It’s like when people are using the wrong words about me, I feel like they are talking about someone else.
It hurts. On both an emotional and physical level. Even if it is done by mistake, with no bad intentions, I experience actual pain when somebody uses the wrong pronouns about me.
I don’t know why I have gender dysphoria. Even medical science knows very little about its possible causes. I am a test subject in a study carried out about it right now, so maybe in five or ten years or so we’ll know a little more. As of now, the possible causes aren’t very relevant, however.
What is relevant is that I’m going through a pretty rough time right now. I’m not comfortable sharing the details with everyone, so if I haven’t already told you, please don’t ask me about it. Suffice it to say that the coming year will hold a lot of pain, uncertainty and stress for me.
If you want to help me through, here’s what I’m asking of you:
- Do your best at USING MY PREFERRED PRONOUNS, both when talking to and about me. Call me a person rather than a guy/girl etc.
- If you accidentally use the wrong words, just CORRECT YOURSELF AND MOVE ON. Don’t make a big deal out of apologising; just to know that you’re trying is enough for me.
- If you hear someone else use the wrong words about me, please CORRECT THEM. It makes such a huge difference not having to do it for myself every time (which I in many situations lack the energy for, anyway).
- If you feel you are bad at using the right words, please DO NOT AVOID ME because you are afraid of hurting me. It’s okay to fuck up. Let me be the judge of what spaces are safe enough for me.
- If you want to know more about transgender issues/terminology/healthcare, please EDUCATE YOURSELF. I can understand your curiosity, and I appreciate that you want to learn more, but I’m not in a good space to talk about these things more than I have to right now. Wikipedia is a great place to start.
- Be aware that it is IMPOSSIBLE TO TELL just by looking at someone whether they are transgender or not. We are not under any obligation to look masculine/feminine/androgynous enough in order to deserve being treated with respect (i.e. having our preferred pronouns used about us).
- DO NOT QUESTION me (or anybody else) about my identity, my body, my name, my gender expression or my transition process. “What pronouns do you prefer?” is a good and legitimate question. “What reproductive organs do you have?” is incredibly rude.
- Be aware that not all trans people have the opportunity to be open in all contexts. If you’re uncertain, better ask before outing someone. In my case, you don’t need to ask. I’m fortunate/brave/stupid enough to be THEY and GENDERQUEER in all situations.
- Please BEAR WITH ME if I become less responsive or sociable. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you any more, it just means that when under a lot of emotional stress, I don’t have as much energy as I would like for social interaction (even across a distance). I still appreciate invitations to things, and you letting me know that you care about me. Just keep your expectations of my ability to participate lower than usual.
Thanks for reading this, and thanks for looking out for me. There are many of us transgender folks who literally wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for allied friends. Thanks for doing your best to prevent more names being added to the list of people to be remembered, mine included.
Love and hope,
Winterdragon
