Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

As I mentioned in my most recent post, I'm not able to update this as often as I really want to. I absolutely love blogging, but by the time I'm done with my graduate school tasks for the day, I become a collapsed puddle of human, incapable of uttering a single word. But I had to log on this once to share some incredibly exciting news. Earlier yesterday I learned that my insurance (through the marketplace) has preauthorized me FOR A HYSTERECTOMY IN EARLY AUGUST.  For over six years now I've been struggling through years of no insurance coverage as a student and then one trans-exclusive, discriminatory policy after another. Even as a federal employee. Yet finally, at long last, this is actually happening. It doesn't feel real yet, but I'm beyond ecstatic. I'm actually scheduled for surgery!  Whaaaa??? There are a gazillion risks reduced and benefits from having this done, one of which will be lowering my dose of testosterone post surgery, which is ...

Update: A more concise version of this was published on Dissident Voice titled, " Gender and Sexual Diversity " on June 21, 2014.  The recent article by Robert Jensen, “ Some Basic Propositions about Sex, Gender, and Patriarchy ,” espouses concepts that both reflect and perpetuate cissexism and transphobia. Jensen correctly anticipates that readers will recognize much of his article as unabashedly transphobic. He reacts by preemptively dismissing any such observations as mere “tactics.” In the third to last paragraph he writes,  "Labeling a radical feminist position on these public policy issues as inherently “transphobic” or describing radical feminist arguments on the issues as “hate speech” are diversionary tactics that undermine productive intellectual and political discussion. A critique of an idea is not a personal attack on any individual who holds the idea." An online search for terms like “hate speech” and “diversionary tactic” leads one to any numb...

Be forewarned: I am about to launch into a whiny spiel about how stressful it has been meeting with trans-unaware OB-GYNs while I'm insured in hopes that they won't a) refer to me as a "post-menopausal woman" and b) will, at the very least, listen to me about my preventative interest in an oophorectomy (removal of ovaries) and a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus). But before said spiel, a brief update is in order. As a reminder since it's been a minute, I am presently living in Maryland to complete my federal service "payback" as an NIH (National Institutes of Health) Undergraduate Scholarship post-baccalaureate (i.e. 4-year college graduate) research fellow. Throughout the duration of my payback I have been nervous about blogging after I signed a gazillion + 1 forms about not representing myself as the NIH or a federal employee. So, quick disclaimer before I proceed: I am not blogging on behalf of the NIH or as a federal employee. Alright, now w...

HRC: Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility

Wooo! Kapooie! Which means that I get to devour my most favorite food ever - sushi sushi sushi!

I can't wait to graduate and get back to blogging. My writing juice well gets sucked dry every semester. But, I just learned that I graduate on June 1st and as per the awesome scholarship I received from the National Institutes of Health (NIH), I fly out to Maryland for June 2nd. Then I officially begin my internship with them on June 3rd. A little bit ago I got to head out there for a couple of days to meet prospective mentors - all of whom were wonderful. A couple of weeks ago I learned what lab I'll be working in and I am beyond excited. That's an update in a ridiculously compressed nutshell, but now I need to run off to study for an exam. It's for a course titled "Behavioral Endocrinology", which is just intimidating scaryfancy speak for "How Hormones Influence Behavior". Which is right up my alley. In fact, we're required to watch a film called Sex Unknown prior to the exam, which I'm astounded that I'd never heard of or watched...

How cute! I received this little postcard in the mail today from The Self Made Men , and it's my 4 year (seriously??) tranniversary on the 11th!

I just self-injected! Finally! It's been a little over 9 months that I suddenly, for no reason, couldn't self-inject . It was bizarre, because I'd been self-injecting testosterone cypionate into my thigh for almost three years with no fear and very little problems. And then, bam! - I just, couldn't . Confused and frustrated, I assumed that maybe I was just off my game that week. But then it happened that following week. And the week after. And for over nine months, I've discovered that it's an incredible inconvenience to have to rely on someone else (usually my father) for my injections. I started to develop additional anxieties around what's going to happen when someone isn't around to help, like when I move to Maryland next summer and don't know anyone who could help. I've also been irrationally hard on myself about it. I woke up Friday morning determined to do my it myself. I decided not to do it in the morning, when there's a lo...

A few days ago I was asked by a sociology professor to be a panelist in her Gender and Sexuality class. Given that I'm committed to rambling on about my experiences to any poor sap who will listen, including a captive audience of hapless college students, I enthusiastically agreed. Most of this enthusiasm stems from knowing first-hand how unsettling transgender and gender-nonconformity can be for many - and how vital knowledge and interaction are for dismantling prejudice and discrimination. Openness is particularly vital given how corrosive assumptions about “normalcy" manifests in incredibly dangerous ways for anyone who strays from the fabricated norm. It's particularly exciting to have so many cisgender allies who are so supportive, and help to educate away the ignorance through whatever means are available to them. Speaking of, I stumbled across an interesting article just the other day regarding the controversy around the gender of Caster Semenya, the 18-yea...

This month marks the ONE YEAR TRANNIVERSARY of my top surgery. The top surgery that, not too long ago, I believed was some far off, distant fantasy that I could never realistically attain. But, through years of patience, perseverance, and the support of the world’s most adorable friends and family, it actually happened. And my life has never been so swell. I’ve enjoyed my very first summer of not getting rashes under hot, itchy binders. I’ve enjoyed my very first summer wearing tank tops and sun bathing topless. I’ve experienced going into a locker room where I feel safe and can just, change my clothes. I’ve bicycled with a sweat-soaked spandex jersey unzipped down to my navel. I shared a dorm room on campus with three cisgender dudes, without fear. And, most importantly, I’ve looked at myself topless for the first time in 26 years without feeling the dreaded and painful sensation of a physiological disconnect. My brain and body just… connect. I’ve spent an entire year now just, fee...

Shopping for clothing has never been my top #1 favorite activity of all time in the universe. For as long as I can recall, it’s been an agonizing, everything-fits-funny pain in the schlum. Out of a gazillion + 2 shirts and pants, I’d be lucky to find something that fit right. Either the shirts were too straight or too stretched out or not long enough or - this has been the story for forever and beyond. Until last Saturday. Since I had top surgery last August, I haven’t shopped for new clothes. Er, I lie. I have. For multipacks of Hanes t-shirts and underoo’s. But those don’t count. For months now my dad has been whimpering about having no clothes. And I’ve been wearing the same ol’ white Hanes shirt and shorts combo every single day. Which is great if you’re Pee Wee Herman, Einstein, or Seth Brundle from The Fly, but. Despite the convenience of only having multiple pairs of one outfit, I finally cracked last Saturday and decided to dupe my father into going on a trip to the ...

Look what I found. Neat!

Got this new hair did last weekend from Princess Kennedy. So summer post-finals perfect:

Healing quite nicely if I do say so my vain self!

Emerging from the depths of finals for a moment to share an article that a fellow trans student and I were interviewed for. It was published last week in our school’s paper. I was also interviewed last year for this student paper, but this time I dragged poor Mikki into the muck with me. Gender Boundaries: Room to Explore at Westminster >

The fact that finals are looming has turned me into a space cadet. Literally. Yesterday morning I go to coffee with my pops per usual. Since I have a class that starts at 10am and knew we had a discussion planned, I made sure to get caught up on the class reading. Like the creeper that I am, I got to class 15 minutes early, set up shop, got cozy, and started to work on a paper for another class. It struck me as odd that by 9:55am I was the only student in the room. By 10am, same story. I gave it until 10:20 and still, no professor. No other students. Had I missed a memo? Had class been canceled? I was positive we had this reading and discussion planned. I checked my voicemail, the online class calendar, e-mail, everything. Maybe I’d spaced off during class when the professor clearly announced that class was canceled? I thought I’d been paying attention… but, confused, I packed up and wandered off. Since this was my only class of the day, I headed home. Made lunch. Then, around 1...

For almost three years now I’ve been self-injecting. The very first time my hand quivered and I literally couldn’t do it - but every injection since then? No problem. It had become such a menial automaton task that when I switched from bi-weekly injection to every week it wasn’t no thang. But then, something happened. About a month ago. I don’t know what the hell it was, but when I went to self-inject, I just … couldn’t do it. This was a little over a month ago. I remember feeling extremely frustrated and confused over the whole ordeal and eventually cracked and had a friend help me. I figured that this was just a one-time anomalous incident. But no! Ever since, every Thursday, I can’t self-inject. I couldn’t even look until last week. What the hell? Seriously. So this morning I wake up, determined to self-inject. I get the needle ready, cleanse the injection site with an alcohol wipe, go for the plunge and… nothing. Couldn’t do it. I felt closer this time, but still froz...

But I don't really.

Student land and selfish post-surgery running aboot celebration have connived to prevent me from blogging as I should! I will also upload pictures of my epic healing nipples at some point in the near future here. They are currently pink and scabbed, with my right one healing faster than the left. Why? I dunno. But, they’re both pink, alive, and resting upon muscle instead of boob. Today was the first day I’ve bicycled to school since my surgery on August 11th. I technically could have bicycled after I was given the go exercise ! green flag by my surgeon, Cori Agarwal, last Friday (the 9th) - but I’ve been sick. Apparently recovering from surgery, math phobia stress, and going back to a college campus germ cesspool are a perfect combo for such things. So for about two weeks now I’ve been congested, coughing, tired, and slowly getting better. Wah. Even though I could barely breathe peddling along this morning and coughed galore, it was absolutely amazing. It was the most liberating f...

Had my first and second day of classes Wednesday and Thursday! The lessons I’ve learned so far? It’s hard to carry books less than 2 weeks after surgery. Sweating in a compression vest is itchier than in a binder. Nipple grafts freak me out. Today I see my surgeon and find out if my tissue is livin’ or dyin’! Yay! Statistics = intimidating. I also endured a lot of hugs. But fortunately, most everyone who wants to hug me also reads my blog - and know to do so side ways, gently, and semi-awkwardly. I foresee this being a good semester. In other news, not riding a bicycle SLAYS ME. I feel like a chubby little lump on a recliner chair. Which I am, but seriously… I absolutely can not wait to peddle furiously in sweaty booblessness celebration!