Shell Shock, Gender Pronouns, and Pussy Lips

Gadz. Yesterday was exhausting. It's a highly dramatic analogy, but it felt like we were all skipping aboot on a field of green grass and daises (doesn't everyone feel that way about work?) and then, next thing everyone knew, we're lined up against a wall and higher management takes aim. Bullets are whizzing by, it's a whirlwind, friends are getting hit and collapsing. Tears galore. On one hand it's sad to see them hit and then, on the other, everyone who's still standing is wondering who's going to get shot next. It's like I dodged a bullet and, once the bullets stopped whizzing by, I kind of stumbled off of the bloody field through a haze of smoke shell shocked thinking, "what just happened?"

Moral of the highly dramatic not even entirely relevant analogy: I was really tired last night. I usually volunteer until 9pm but left early to go home to get some rest. I actually ended up popping pimples and staying up late watching Prison Break with my roommate (I wrapped my swollen bloody head in a scarf so she couldn't see the monstrous truth of what I've now become - refer to image); but that was equally relaxing and mind numbing. I drank two soda pops.

Speaking of yesterday, group went really well. I actually look forward to it every week because there's just something about being around others who I don't have to explain myself to. We just understand one another. Everything makes sense. It's comforting. We can be ourselves.

There was pizza. Two vegan, two with cheese. When I walked in, I got two slices, joined the circle, and munched them down in a subtle non-smacky wet way. About 12 people were there and as introductions and brief updates went from person to person, my stomach clenched; the smell of delicious pizza permeated the air. It was highly distracting and painful to be polite, to focus, to listen to everyone speak, to be attentive.

The SECOND the last person introduced himself and gave his brief update, and before the facilitator launched into the discussion segment, I got up and, as discreetly and politely as I could possibly muster, inched over to the table to get more pizza.

After I sat down, the two other trans boys were already over at the table getting more pizza themselves.

When we are asked about our preferred gender pronouns, I usually say something to the effect of, "I don't have a preferred gender pronoun." and I honestly don't, for the most part. Still, I have a hard time expecting anyone to use gender-neutral pronouns like "ze" and "hir" or singular "they" instead of her/his since we live in a culture with a language that's very binary. I've considered the possibility of asking people to alternate between he and she (and/or gender neutral pronouns) in reference to me, or to just use my name and avoid using pronouns altogether.

I'm noticing that people are just too confused by it, default on 'she', and it's exhausting to constantly explain genderqueer or how my transition is separate from my gender identity. I'm finding that I'm in a position where it's easier to just use language most people can understand, like "female-to-male", for example. Given the options 'he' or 'she', I feel much more comfortable with 'he'. So, at group yesterday, I said, "I'm starting to prefer male pronouns." then said something about how it's for the sake of ease, comfort, and convenience and doesn't entirely reflect my actual gender identity.

I feel a bit conflicted about it. By opting to use 'he' pronouns it does nothing to represent my actual gender identity or to challenge that binary. Still, when people are using 'she' to describe me, it's even worse. At least I'm more comfortable with 'he' and relate to it better and can still be open about my gender identity with anyone who's inquisitive and receptive. I'm figuring it out, but, in the meantime, I've concluded that I do have a preference for people in general. He. Close friends, people who know me well, are already good at avoiding gender pronouns.

Ahem, in other news, found my first grey hair last week! Gina and I were having lunch together and, when I removed my hat, she commented, "Mel, stay still. There's a thread in your hair." She leaned in, tugged at it, and, to her surprise, "It's not a thread! That's a grey hair!" She plucked it, showed it to me (it's 100% authentic silver!) got out a piece of paper, delicately wrapped it up, and wrote 'Mel's 1st grey hair' on it and handed it to me. I'm seriously framing this. I'm so excited about it. I'll look so dignified and handsome with age.

Speaking of hair, I'm noticing that my relationship to body hair has changed a bit. There's extra hair growth on my inner thighs, stomach, arms. Yesterday I noticed more hair on my chin and the skin above my lip feels rougher. I'm really enthusiastic about my own hair growth. Looking for it. Encouraging it.

I don't think it's due to gender socialization since I never abstained from shaving or shaved as a female-bodied person for any social reasons. In fact, I never shaved my legs until I realized that, when I did, I could see my gnarly scars. Still, body hair in general has always been something that's a little perturbing to me, but it's becoming much more appealing. I'm feeling gradually more connected to my body which, essentially, has me feeling entirely positive about the changes that stem from this process, especially the hair growth.

Although, when and if I develop excessive hair growth around my mouth lips, I will definitely shave around that area.