This has been coming for a while now.
Nov. 14th, 2006 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The first day in Anthropology...
Me: *settles down quite happily in chair*
Random guy, scooting up next to me: Hey.
Me: *noncommittal grunt*
Random guy: Yeah, you were the only other guy in here, so I figured I'd sit next to you.
Me: *noncommittal grunt*
Me, inside: OMG \:D/
When I was wee I was a girl. Not just a girl, but a Very Girly Girl. I liked foofy skirts and Mary Janes and little white socks with lace on them. I was that kind of girl.
Still, something must have showed, because whenever my best friend and I played Aladdin I would be him. And although I always protested I secretly didn't mind.
I knew what it was to be a girl, back then. It means that you were shaped differently, that you'd grow up and get married and have babies with a nice man like your dad. It meant that you were shorter and sweeter and couldn't open jars. It meant that you had to eat your crusts because they'd make your hair curly. It meant you wore dresses in family pictures and smiled when people asked you to.
I got glasses and started to grow up, sort of. My hair grew very long and I got quite fat and greasy, which I was very self-conscious about, and one day in sixth grade I read a book about a girl who dressed up like a boy. This wasn't exactly a new concept for me- I'd seen Mulan, I knew what was up. But still, it opened something up.
I remember being disappointed when Alanna grew her hair out and stopped binding her breasts. I told no one about this.
I remember my own first, clumsy attempts to bind my own, with bathrobe belts and stolen scarves. I didn't tell anyone about that either.
Things happened, like I fell in love with my best friend and wrote three novellas and started listening to music. The first band I really discovered on my own- that I didn't steal from my sister or a friend- was Placebo. (This is probably significant.) I realized that I was no longer Catholic, that kissing girls was about a thousand times more appealing than kissing boys (although Brian Molko was still really pretty, especially in a skirt), that jeans were comfortable, that I wanted to dye my hair like Davey Havok.
I remember I was at somebody's party and the boys went to one wall and the girls went to another, and I had no idea where to go.
And things kept on happening, one after the other. I cut all my hair off, and then cut it off even more. I had my first relationship, which was awful, and saw my first queer movie, which was awesome. I had a crush on a boy for the first time in a long time, and it confused me awfully. I felt like he was a boy, and I was a boy, and it made my head spin a little.
One day, when I was wearing flannel and looked rather pleasantly rumpled, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, I look a little like Ryan Adams. I wasn't prepared for the way that would feel. How good it felt, or how scary. Or how scary-good it would feel for someone to say 'he' as they glanced at my hair, my clothes, my walk. Sometimes details like that fill in the blanks for everything else.
I bought Boys Don't Cry and watched it alone at one in the morning and couldn't stop crying. My mum came in at one point and I felt intensely guilty. I wasn't prepared for the way that would feel either.
I played around with words for a while, like people would with clothes in a dressing room- trying on this and that, tossing some onto the floor in disgust, hanging some back up and putting them neatly away, until I was left with a small pile that sort of fit. I keep those, and I wear them when I feel like it. Sometimes I mix and match.
I wear the word "dyke" like I would wear a pair of combat boots. It gives me strength and snarly toughness when I need it; it gives me swagger when I feel silly or afraid. I also wear the word "boi" like a soft grey hoodie, framing my round cheeks and small hands. Sometimes I wear "boy", a worn pair of baggy blue jeans. I wear "queer" as a necklace, and it rests proud against my pulse when I walk down the halls. "Genderqueer" is my summer sarong, patterned in bright oranges and deep blues. "Butch" I wear as sneakers, skinny-puppy high tops. "Femme" I wear as knee socks, striped in a thousand different colours (pink included). I can wear them both at the same time, you know.
I don't wear "trans" that often- it's like a suit you buy and then are afraid to wear, because you don't want to get it dirty. I don't want to stain it with my uncertainty.
So I've kept some words, and cast off some others, and I still can't say which ones fit me best. All I have are the moments when I pull them on and they feel good and I know that they don't contradict each other.
I have some things I wear sometimes- not jewelry, quite, but trinkets. A Norwegian good luck charm, a pendant from Trinidad shaped like a foot, a wine cork on a chain, a rubber bracelet from a concert. One of them is a wristband. I put a trans pride pin on it a lot time ago and it's been happily rusting there ever since. I wear it most of all. It fits me snug, and it's pleasantly ratty, and it never gets in the way when I write.
But on the other wrist I wear a silver butterfly bracelet, and that fits me just as well.


A note on the subject: I'd really like it if people stopped using my given name, at least here. "El", "Ish", and "Gerald" are fine, but my birth name bothers me. Also, I have a filter I normally keep all this stuff under- if anyone wants to be added to it, just tell me.
In other news, I wish I looked like Carl Barat. Or possibly Michael Pitt. Or both.
Me: *settles down quite happily in chair*
Random guy, scooting up next to me: Hey.
Me: *noncommittal grunt*
Random guy: Yeah, you were the only other guy in here, so I figured I'd sit next to you.
Me: *noncommittal grunt*
Me, inside: OMG \:D/
When I was wee I was a girl. Not just a girl, but a Very Girly Girl. I liked foofy skirts and Mary Janes and little white socks with lace on them. I was that kind of girl.
Still, something must have showed, because whenever my best friend and I played Aladdin I would be him. And although I always protested I secretly didn't mind.
I knew what it was to be a girl, back then. It means that you were shaped differently, that you'd grow up and get married and have babies with a nice man like your dad. It meant that you were shorter and sweeter and couldn't open jars. It meant that you had to eat your crusts because they'd make your hair curly. It meant you wore dresses in family pictures and smiled when people asked you to.
I got glasses and started to grow up, sort of. My hair grew very long and I got quite fat and greasy, which I was very self-conscious about, and one day in sixth grade I read a book about a girl who dressed up like a boy. This wasn't exactly a new concept for me- I'd seen Mulan, I knew what was up. But still, it opened something up.
I remember being disappointed when Alanna grew her hair out and stopped binding her breasts. I told no one about this.
I remember my own first, clumsy attempts to bind my own, with bathrobe belts and stolen scarves. I didn't tell anyone about that either.
Things happened, like I fell in love with my best friend and wrote three novellas and started listening to music. The first band I really discovered on my own- that I didn't steal from my sister or a friend- was Placebo. (This is probably significant.) I realized that I was no longer Catholic, that kissing girls was about a thousand times more appealing than kissing boys (although Brian Molko was still really pretty, especially in a skirt), that jeans were comfortable, that I wanted to dye my hair like Davey Havok.
I remember I was at somebody's party and the boys went to one wall and the girls went to another, and I had no idea where to go.
And things kept on happening, one after the other. I cut all my hair off, and then cut it off even more. I had my first relationship, which was awful, and saw my first queer movie, which was awesome. I had a crush on a boy for the first time in a long time, and it confused me awfully. I felt like he was a boy, and I was a boy, and it made my head spin a little.
One day, when I was wearing flannel and looked rather pleasantly rumpled, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, I look a little like Ryan Adams. I wasn't prepared for the way that would feel. How good it felt, or how scary. Or how scary-good it would feel for someone to say 'he' as they glanced at my hair, my clothes, my walk. Sometimes details like that fill in the blanks for everything else.
I bought Boys Don't Cry and watched it alone at one in the morning and couldn't stop crying. My mum came in at one point and I felt intensely guilty. I wasn't prepared for the way that would feel either.
I played around with words for a while, like people would with clothes in a dressing room- trying on this and that, tossing some onto the floor in disgust, hanging some back up and putting them neatly away, until I was left with a small pile that sort of fit. I keep those, and I wear them when I feel like it. Sometimes I mix and match.
I wear the word "dyke" like I would wear a pair of combat boots. It gives me strength and snarly toughness when I need it; it gives me swagger when I feel silly or afraid. I also wear the word "boi" like a soft grey hoodie, framing my round cheeks and small hands. Sometimes I wear "boy", a worn pair of baggy blue jeans. I wear "queer" as a necklace, and it rests proud against my pulse when I walk down the halls. "Genderqueer" is my summer sarong, patterned in bright oranges and deep blues. "Butch" I wear as sneakers, skinny-puppy high tops. "Femme" I wear as knee socks, striped in a thousand different colours (pink included). I can wear them both at the same time, you know.
I don't wear "trans" that often- it's like a suit you buy and then are afraid to wear, because you don't want to get it dirty. I don't want to stain it with my uncertainty.
So I've kept some words, and cast off some others, and I still can't say which ones fit me best. All I have are the moments when I pull them on and they feel good and I know that they don't contradict each other.
I have some things I wear sometimes- not jewelry, quite, but trinkets. A Norwegian good luck charm, a pendant from Trinidad shaped like a foot, a wine cork on a chain, a rubber bracelet from a concert. One of them is a wristband. I put a trans pride pin on it a lot time ago and it's been happily rusting there ever since. I wear it most of all. It fits me snug, and it's pleasantly ratty, and it never gets in the way when I write.
But on the other wrist I wear a silver butterfly bracelet, and that fits me just as well.


A note on the subject: I'd really like it if people stopped using my given name, at least here. "El", "Ish", and "Gerald" are fine, but my birth name bothers me. Also, I have a filter I normally keep all this stuff under- if anyone wants to be added to it, just tell me.
In other news, I wish I looked like Carl Barat. Or possibly Michael Pitt. Or both.
no subject
on 2006-11-14 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-14 10:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-14 10:40 pm (UTC)Instead of, you know. Doing productively writing about him spending a lot of time in front of a mirror or with his hair product.
This was lovely and you might want to publish it somewheres. LIKE OMG, MAYBE IF I GET OFF MY BUM AND GET THAT INDEPENDENT RAG OF MINE STARTED. ERK.
no subject
on 2006-11-14 10:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-14 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-14 10:56 pm (UTC)(TELL PRONGS NOT TO WATCH ME PEE D:)
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-14 11:13 pm (UTC)Your post is made of Yay though, even though I guessed most of the stuff about the scarves and the dressing gown belts.
no subject
on 2006-11-14 11:15 pm (UTC)Like you would with old songs in which you use the phrase "fo' sure."
You guessed? You cheeky bugger!
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-14 11:42 pm (UTC)(In news of a similar vein, today Kat told me that she can hear my voice changing!)
no subject
on 2006-11-14 11:46 pm (UTC)YOU HAVE TO DO A VOICEPOST. YOU COULD SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO PAUL SIMON!
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by*g*
Posted byRe: *g*
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-14 11:52 pm (UTC)You know I want to be on that filter.
no subject
on 2006-11-14 11:55 pm (UTC)Well. You didn't, maybe. But now you do!
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-15 12:08 am (UTC)And I'd like to be added to your filter!
no subject
on 2006-11-15 12:41 am (UTC)You've been on it for about a year now, I think. I just don't use it much.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 02:03 am (UTC)I thought you were a gay boy :o
Dur. now eye fel smrt.
can you add me to your filter? x3
no subject
on 2006-11-15 03:55 am (UTC)Will do!
no subject
on 2006-11-15 02:58 am (UTC)Honestly, I'd been reading your LJ for about 6 months before I figured out which of your many names is your given name, and what gender your birth certificate must say - I wasn't scouring the posts for clues or anything, but I did find it an impossible question to ignore completely. Sometimes the uncertainty tripped me up a little, and it always made me pause and try to figure out why it seemed to matter to me at that particular moment, which really opened my eyes to some things.
Also, I'd love to be added to that filter, if that's ok by you.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 03:10 am (UTC)Also, I don't know if you remember, but way back when I first friended you I commented somewhere along the lines of "Gee golly, I have no idea whether you're a girl person or a boy person!" and your reply was the evasive "How interesting!" It's instructive to finally get a straight (ha) answer, and compare it to what I'd guessed anyways.
Also again, I'd love to be on that filter.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 03:52 am (UTC)What had you guessed?
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-15 03:35 am (UTC)To me, you're a girl. You always have been, because we met in third grade and that's when we were closest -- if you call screaming bird noises across the elementary school field "close" (I like to) -- and you were always the pretty girl with nice eyes and bootiful hair who hated it when people sang "The First Noel" because you didn't like that joke. No-Ellen.
We grew apart. People do. But even in middle school you had that long hair, and the fact that you hung out with guys didn't really mean much to me. Through Caitlin I kind of met you again, and even though I found out about your adventures with sexuality and the like, you were still a girl who, with her hair dyed black, kind of looked like Ozzy Osbourne.
In high school, several things happened. I joined the Guild and then drifted away again, you cut your hair and looked like Jack White for awhile and complained that your neck was cold, you got in an... interesting... relationship, and the further you went, it seemed, the shorter your hair got. With Martine, you seemed the most happy in high school with your hair blue and all dreams of "science girl" behind you. But always to me, you were a girl, with the same name you'd always had.
See, you changed, but because I knew you less and less, the more I relied on memory to know you, and therefore, you stayed a girl in my mind, and will continue to do so. Now that you're not even around here anymore, you'll most likely stay in this state in my head. And that got me thinking... man, all people will remember about us in life is how we were at our last moments with them. That kind of depressed me a little bit. But that's not your fault.
POINT: You're still No-Ellen to me.
POINT: You're still a girl to me.
POINT: I'm sorry if that's bad, but I think it really just reveals something about some psychological thing in humans. Honestly. That's all.
POINT: I think you and Martine are awfully cute, ps.
POINT: I'll shut up now. :)
-- blue --
no subject
on 2006-11-15 04:03 am (UTC)"Adventures with sexuality." That makes it sound so Xena, rather than "OMG I held a girl's hand once. :D"
I love how this whole comment hinges on my hair. First it was long, then it was black, then it was short, then it was blue, then it was gone... and soon, if I have anything to say about it, it will be half-shaven and dyed three different colours.
I don't think that's bad, really. I mean, I don't really like it, but I can definitely understand it. I knew someone once who I'd known as a girl for a few years, and then I found out that they identified as a boy really suddenly. It took a long time for me to make that mental switch, and I still slip up now and again. It's not because I think I know him any better than he knows himself- it's just that there's a history there that says "she" and "her", and that's hard for me to overcome. Memory is one of our strongest mental faculties, and one of our most valuable.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 03:38 am (UTC)(am i in that filter? because i'd like to be if it's all the same.)
i think i feel a bit better about having been a really, really girly little girl.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 03:49 am (UTC)And you are definitely in that filter. You're one of the first people I ever came out to, dude. :)
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-15 04:52 am (UTC)Not that that has anything to do with anything. But this is an amazing post: really food for thought. *keeps it*
no subject
on 2006-11-15 05:01 am (UTC)I normally picture you as Saint-Just (I think) in that "Hollaback" icon you have, although I'm pretty sure you're not secretly a French revolutionary. Pretty sure. Not entirely certain.
I'm glad you liked it.
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-15 05:14 am (UTC)<3
no subject
on 2006-11-15 05:23 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 07:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-15 05:52 pm (UTC)And thank you.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 01:47 pm (UTC)I'd love to be added to your friends list.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 05:50 pm (UTC)I'll definitely add you back.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 05:52 pm (UTC)I miss you too, Piffster. I'm gonna send a letter soon, with lots of crude crayon drawings! (And you'd better come visit me at Christmas, or I'll... ineffectually pout.)
no subject
on 2006-11-15 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 08:12 pm (UTC)*bows before your writing skillz*
As for any filters you might have, I would love to be added to any you see fit. I consider you a friend, and that means I'm here for the works.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-15 09:15 pm (UTC)Well, except I fucked up the first time I genuinely passed. *Facepalm*
I'd like to be added to your filter if you want, but I'm okay with not being on if you're not comfortable with that.
no subject
on 2006-11-15 09:25 pm (UTC)My first major thing like that was when I was little and I read The Letter, The Witch and the Ring by John Bellairs. Near the end, a character named Rose-Rita has King Solomon's Ring fall into her hands which can grant wishes. She's a real tomboy, this is set in the 50's, so she's on the verge of wishing that she was a boy when the good witch talks her out of it and makes her hand the ring over.
...And all I could think was 'Hmph. I wouldn't have wimped out.'
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2006-11-17 01:49 pm (UTC)but i just wanted to say i think you are completely awesome and totally inspiring.
sorry for a random post :D
no subject
on 2006-11-17 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-01-15 10:57 pm (UTC)If you're still doing that filter, add me?
no subject
on 2008-01-23 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-05-19 08:22 pm (UTC)Sometimes when I wonder if I am a Real Boy (TM) I think about giving up my past as a queer girl, and it makes me sad. (Of course, there are other times when I wonder if I am a Real Girl (TM), and then I get sad about giving up my tentative future as a queer boy.) Even when I feel as though I need to transition- and I've been feeling that need pretty strongly lately- I think there'll always be a part of me that wants to be dykey. Which is why I make sure to keep myself well-stocked in flannel shirts and fake meat products.
I'm glad you liked it- it took me a long time to work up the balls to post it. One day I hope I'll have the courage to show it to my mum.
(no subject)
Posted by