Guess what? Discrimination is more awkward.

#LeelahAlcorn, agedner, ally, cisgender, cissexism, genderqueer, non-binary, resilience, suicidal ideation, transgender, transphobia, youth rights

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: suicide, transphobia, cissexism, discrimination, #LeelahAlcorn

Why do our babies have to die?

Why do we live in a world where little trans kids want to die rather than live their lives?

Who is making it so unbearable for us to be alive?

We are just trying to be ourselves. We are just looking for respect, dignity, our true truths of ourselves.

We keep on dying for people to maintain their ideas, their boxes, their order of things, their wrong order of things.

They say, we would rather you die and us stay in our boxes. We would rather you die, because you don’t follow these whimsical Willy Wonka rules that never fit anyone anyway.

We would rather you die than us feel uncomfortable.

I want to live in a world where anyone, child, teenager, adult, someone who has thousands of wrinkles—where anyone realizing that their gender doesn’t fit these rules doesn’t want to die. Where every single person who realize they’re trans or something like it—where death doesn’t seem like a better solution than facing the trauma. Where it no longer seems like nearly everyone trans I know has thought about suicide, or attempted it.

When that has happened, it’s not a matter of an individual problem. Unless you think oppression is a series of coincidences.

I want to live in a world where we are welcomed and held with open arms by everyone, where our trueness of self is celebrated.

I don’t want us to die for the sake of cis people’s fear—their fear of discovering their own selves, their fear of toes getting over the line, their stupid fucking fear of gender being awkward.

Well, of course it’s awkward. It’s a coercive system that forces people into a rigid set of unnatural rules that governs nearly everything that someone does in order to maintain an oppressive hierarchy.

I’d call that awkward, maybe. Maybe discrimination is more awkward than your discomfort. Maybe suicide is.

If someone not fitting your idea of what their gender “should” be is awkward, just think about how it might feel when they’re dead.

Do you feel less awkward, now that we’re not in front of your face anymore?

This is why I can’t stop talking about trans deaths. I refuse to let us fade away. I refuse to let our deaths make us disappear.

We are here. We are here. We are here. We will be here, here, here until we rise like a glittery sun, until our fierce power and beauty spreads across the world.

We must keep on. We must move forward. We must get up every day and live, live. Because we are stunning. We are beautiful. We are handsome and dapper and kinky and funky and fabulous.

We give a gift to the world that they do not want to accept, but it is a gift nonetheless. It is freedom.

That discomfort they’re feeling? It’s the beginnings of freedom.

Of course, we aren’t here for them, though they should be grateful for us. We are here for ourselves, we are here for our communities, we are here for the glittery gorgeous right to be who we are and be safe.

Pride and love will keep us alive.

Source: http://randomflyingpigeons.deviantart.com/art/Tie-Dyed-Trans-Pride-275151732

PLEASE CALL the Trans Lifeline if you need it: 877-565-8860 in the US http://www.translifeline.org/

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It’s not about you…

#LeelahAlcorn, agender, ally, cis entitlement, cisgender, cissexism, coming out, ftm, genderfluid, genderqueer, mental health system, mental illness, mtf, non-binary, parents of trans people, privilege, pronouns, saneism, solidarity, suicidal ideation, therapist, therapy, trans children, trans men, trans women, transgender, transition, transphobia, youth rights

TRIGGER WARNING: family abuse, suicide, transphobia, transmisogyny, #LeelahAlcorn

“I’ve watched as parents get supported for struggling, and failing, to cope with their child being transgender. I’ve seen parents talk about deliberately misgendering their child for months on end because it was too hard for them. Parents who used non-binary pronouns, despite not having a gender neutral child, because they didn’t feel ready to switch over to the pronouns their child preferred. One common thread through all these conversations is “I need…”

“You know what? It’s not about you!

“We don’t get to pick the kids we raise. We don’t get to choose their height, their hair colour, their IQ, their skills, their goals, or their gender. It’s that simple. I couldn’t pick singing skills and you can’t pick gender. And it doesn’t matter if you think you were raising a boy and instead, whoops, she’s a girl… or vice versa… or neither… or both.

“…The benchmark for being a good, supportive parent to a trans child is not “well I didn’t kick him/her/them out”. If you can’t manage to use your child’s preferred name and pronouns, you are not a supportive parent.

Because I'm Fabulous

I remember being pregnant with my children, feeling as their gentle flutters progressed into full belly flops on my bladder and painful karate kicks against the backs of my ribs. Back then I had no clue what my children would be like; they were more like ideas than real people. I’d sit in my rocking chair with my hands clasped gently over my stomach and wonder who they’d be. Dreaming of children who loved singing as much as me; envisioning singing rounds, our voices weaving together in harmony.

Then they were born. Short, chubby, bald people who looked a lot more like Winston Churchill than either their Dad or myself. People that screamed randomly, pooped on themselves, and considered “gah” to be an entire conversation. I still had no idea what they were like except loud, messy, and highly uncoordinated. They slowly evolved into their own people. Emma was colicky and had a desperate need to be…

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Letter to Former Therapist #1

ableism, activism, agender, ally, cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, disability, dysphoria, gatekeeper model, gender fluid, genderqueer, mental health system, mental illness, misgendering, non-binary, privilege, saneism, suicidal ideation, therapy, trans narrative, transgender, transition, transphobia

TRIGGER WARNING: Cissexism/transphobia in therapy, saneism, suicidal ideation

This letter is pretty self-explanatory, but I want to give a brief introduction. I had been seeing this therapist on and off for six years, and it was only after we stopped seeing each other, mostly for reasons unrelated to the content of this letter, that I realized the full extent of what had happened in that office in terms of my gender. This is something that is still very painful for me to process, but I am sharing this (slightly edited) letter with you all because I hope that sharing my story will help other people in similar situations, or other people who are considering therapy. If any providers are reading this post, take this post to heart and consider if any of it applies to you. If it does, make changes to your practice now.

Written: 5/1/14

Sent: 5/17/14

Dear [Former Therapist #1],

I have realized in the past few weeks that there is something more I need to say to you. Feeling both anger and loss, caring about and valuing much of our therapeutic time together while realizing how you hurt and utterly failed me in this way–it isn’t an easy combination of feelings. When someone has both given so much and also deprived me of something so important, the emotions are not easy to navigate. I know that you have always had good intentions for me, but good intentions and positive effects are, as you must know, not the same, often. I am going to give you some feedback here that I hope you will take to heart, so that you can have a positive impact and a practice where all clients are treated equally. Although I am angry about this, and I wanted to show you that impact in this letter, I also wish you the best in implementing these changes. Please get in touch with me if you need further input, or if you otherwise want to respond.

I talked with you in one of our sessions a few months ago about my doubts and worries about us working together again. I told you that you had shot me down years ago when I had first brought up questioning my gender to you. What I didn’t do then is remind you what you had said to me.

I don’t remember every detail of those conversations we had when I was 18, but I do remember the traumatizing parts. I remember that, back in what must have been our first or second session, you asked if I wanted a penis. Uncomfortable, and confused as to whether this was the only measure of trans* ness, I said that I didn’t think so. Shortly afterwards, I think you must have concluded that I wasn’t trans*, or I must have concluded that I didn’t want to repeat that uncomfortable conversation, because we stopped talking about it for a while.

Later, maybe months or a year later, I worked up my courage and brought it up to you again. You said that you thought I had penis envy or wanted a grab at male privilege. (At the time, I was too clueless about feminism to know what you meant, so I mentally shrugged.) You said that I wasn’t trans*. “But you’re so feminine!” you said. (This was especially hurtful, given my current gender identity. I don’t identify with the word “feminine,” but me having some characteristics that get categorized that way doesn’t mean that I am a woman.)

I didn’t talk with you about it again until five years later, this current year, when my internalized transphobia and gender dysphoria (among other things) was making me suicidal. (Partly, I had buried it for some time, but I found a journal entry that showed that even in the midst of that fog, I was aware of my dysphoria. Besides, a lot of why I’d buried it was because I hadn’t been met with affirmation from you at all.) When I brought up my gender identity as one of my concerns about working with you again, you showed that you had evolved in some ways. You told me that you had been naive then, and that you were sorry. (But I don’t think you remember what you said! At least, I hope you didn’t, with that response.) You said that one of a therapist’s most important jobs is to eliminate their prejudices, and now you have no personal investment in your clients’ genders. You said that you understand that for people who don’t fit into the binary, trying to fit them into the opposite-gender box can be just as damaging. (Here, given that I hadn’t talked about my gender with you in five years, I felt you were subtly gendering me again.) Then you said, “Given all the evidence, I think it’s time for a reevaluation.”

This final sentence shows how much further you need to go. You do not get to evaluate my gender. You do not get to tell me who I am. Not any more than you get to tell your cis clients who they are and what genders they should be. Not only had you led me away from my true self for an extra six years, invalidated my gender identity, and used pathetic tropes to degrade who I am (trans men don’t just transition for a grab at male privilege! And the words “penis envy” should never be uttered with any kind of seriousness in a gender therapist’s office)–not to mention that you seemed to think inquiring about my thoughts on my genitalia was a good way to both break the ice and determine my gender–you now were judging yourself professionally fit to make those calls again! Instead of realizing the significant damage you had wrought on me (and probably many other trans* clients), instead of working tirelessly to correct that damage, you simply said that I might be able to convince you, the ultimate authority on my gender, that I am trans*–this time around.

As a first-year in college, I specifically sought out gender specialists so I could start exploring my gender identity. I naively thought that it was a safe space to do so, and foolishly bought into the idea that I could trust my therapist over myself. While I know that your statements don’t hold complete power over me, and, of course, they don’t determine my gender, your authority played a large role in squelching my shy early feelings of my true self, feelings I’d been conscious of as trans* since high school, but had been waiting for a place to show. It is true, also, that especially in the early stages of gender formation, we tend to listen to others over ourselves. You have a huge responsibility!

Had I received nurturing and competent care when I was 18, I might be in a very different place today. Many of my mental health issues would at least be different, if not lessened or resolved. I might have been exposed to less or different trauma. I might even be a few inches taller, if I’d decided that testosterone was the way to go! I’d already be myself. Maybe I wouldn’t have gone to the point of considering suicide to get here.

I think that you still don’t understand the gravity of what you did five years ago. You still don’t understand the danger of labeling yourself an expert on others’ genders, or the absolute destructiveness of the gatekeeper model of trans* care. In many ways, you taught me how to advocate for myself in therapy, and how to break down the barriers of authority between therapist and client. Yet you still cling to authority in this way. I shouldn’t have to convince you of who I am. I am certain that you don’t ask your cisgender clients to do so. I should be able to simply be, in therapy of all places. I should be supported in all ways to become more myself!

Your discouragement took away six years of my life as myself. It likely took away many others’. Please look deeply into yourself and your practice to see what amends you might be able to make with other people you have harmed through your prejudice. You have a responsibility to your current and former clients to do so. If you fail to do this, you continue to fail the trans* community. Reach out to former clients and apologize, and ask if there is anything you could possibly do to connect them to resources or help now. Check in with current clients to be sure they feel affirmed. Never “evaluate” anyone’s gender again. Ask for accountability and feedback from the trans* community and other gender specialists (maybe them, but having met many of them, a lot of them seem as or more messed up). Please look deeply into yourself and your practice, in these ways and/or others (it is ultimately your responsibility to figure this part out) to make changes now for affirming, egalitarian care. You know the stats–lives are on the line

One more thing. I am telling you all these things, taking this time and energy, because I have seen you walk the walk of eliminating prejudice before. I hope that my trust that I have placed in you is not ill-spent. I have faith that you will take this feedback seriously and do your best to right these wrongs.

Your former client,

Still fucking known as,

[Birth name]*

*Since this letter was written, I have started trying [current name] and using they/them pronouns.

Haters are Raisins (Can’t Touch This)

agender, ally, cissexism, coming out, dehumanization, gender fluid, genderqueer, non-binary, privilege, suicidal ideation, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of suicidal ideation, transphobia

 

 

Today I had an epiphany, for a moment anyway. I realized that I am so happy to be alive in this world, and to be myself. I am so proud that I have gotten to this point and SURVIVED, and that I get up daily and work to carve out the space in the world that I need to be who I am. I am proud of my fashion and proud of taking care of myself and proud of daily speaking up or sitting down or walking around and just–being. Life is good. I am good. I am amazing for being here.

I thought, this is so much better than being dead. All this bullshit they throw at me, even that–it’s so much better than being dead.

When I realized that even the oppression I’m facing, right now–it’s so much better to be myself and to be facing this oppression than to be dead–suddenly so much of the power they were holding over me disappeared, replaced with a calm, happy sense of humor about all their bigotry.

I have gone through so much to be here, just as I am right now, and I desperately want other people to see that struggle and understand. Don’t you know what it’s like to be so ashamed of who you are that you want to die? To see no examples of your gender in the world around you, nobody saying you exist, and then to go out in the world anyway? Don’t you see that it takes so much for me just to say who I am to you, and ask you to respect it? A few months ago I couldn’t even utter those words–I am trans–to myself.

I want other people to understand that this is a matter of life and death for me. I also want them to understand what a journey it is for me to be here. Some people understand, or at least know how little they can know of an experience like this. But the people whose words usually hurt the most are the people who are stuck in themselves, the people who, it’s true, just don’t get it. They may or may not have good intentions, but they say the shittiest things. I want them to put aside all their prejudice and just realize–Don’t you get it? I’m here. I am here. That is so much huger than you can know. Show some respect, I want to say. Show some respect, I ask in my friendly, cis-person-proof body language, tone, smile. I’m being extra nice.

All of that is true. But I realized today that sometimes that line of thought and feeling is just poison. It’s poison because I persevorate on other people’s feelings and actions, wanting them to be different. And no matter how just my understanding, it doesn’t change their actions and feelings. They still are just as clueless as when I started. Willingly clueless, maybe. But clueless all the same. These haters, their hearts are raisins. Maybe at some point their lives and feelings were full and juicy, and they could fill themselves up with compassion and care for others. But now they’re shriveled up. Now they can’t let anything in, they’re so dry. And that’s just a sad spot for them to be. To refrain from applauding, celebrating, respecting someone who battles death and denial to become their full, true selves–that takes a shriveled raisin heart.

And I’m not going to preoccupy myself with shriveled raisin hearts anymore. That can be someone else’s work. Allies, that’s your work. I’m going to instead give myself the love and care I am looking for from others. I am amazing for being here and for being who I am, every day. I am amazing for asking for what I need and taking up my rightful space in the world, every day. It isn’t always easy. Others’ words and actions do get to me, they do affect me. That’s OK. I’m not saying it’s wrong or bad if these things affect me or anyone, or make life super hard sometimes.

But I am my own fab, wonderful self, and only I can give myself that. I used to think that that was a paltry gift, compared to the shit I face in the world for being me. But it is such a beautiful gift. Here I am, living and breathing and laughing. Sure, other people take that for granted. But I am here and I am me, and that is good. Other people’s bullshit shriveled selves–they have nothing on me and my gender. I am myself, disco dancing in my own glitter spotlight, can’t touch this, singing and humming and buzzing inside, because I am me and I am here and nobody can keep me from that. I exude myself, and I am so glad to be here.

Dreaming While Sick, Crazy, and Trans

ableism, agender, chronic illness, dehumanization, disability, dysphoria, gender fluid, genderqueer, mental illness, misgendering, non-binary, pronouns, PTSD, saneism, suicidal ideation, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of suicidal ideation & statistics, also discussion of general oppression of sick, crazy, and trans people

 

We all have hopes, goals, dreams. We all want that shit to happen real bad. I think part of why it’s so hard to look forward in life as a sick, crazy, trans person, even for me, who has a fuckton of advantages, is that it seems like this shit is going to stop us in our tracks. We aren’t supposed to be “useful” or have goals or be able to interact with “society,” whatever that is. We aren’t supposed to be able to make an impact on those around us, at least not a positive one. We aren’t supposed to have futures.

And, too often, many of us don’t have futures. Many of us don’t see a future for ourselves. We fear that others will cut short our lives and our dreams or just our daily getting by. Many of us worry that no one will see us as worthwhile, for any of the above reasons. And it’s killing us. I know that, if you add up the attempted suicide rates for all the different diagnoses I have, plus my trans identity, it’s pretty fucking high. PTSD: 27%. Depression: 20%. Secondary care for IBS: 16%. Non-binary trans: 43%.

That’s a pretty fucking scary list. I have never taken statistics, and those are some scary statistics. I think sometimes about how suicidal ideation probably wouldn’t even be as present for me, though, if there wasn’t the shame compounding this stuff. Yes, I still might be a little crazy. Yes, I’d still be in pain sometimes from IBS. Yes, I’d still be trans and I’d experience physical dysphoria (not that all trans people do–but in this utopia, social dysphoria would be mitigated almost instantly). But in some utopian world where people accept you where you are, where people envision futures for all people coming from everywhere, where people don’t assume genders and affirm everyone, in this utopian world, I would feel like my dreams are more possible. I would feel like my life is more possible.

We don’t live in that world, though, and I know that you, like me, probably need some encouragement to get where you need to go. You need the encouragement to keep on getting out of bed (if you can) every day, maybe, to eat some food, maybe, to talk to people around you, even, or not, if you need to. You need encouragement to live your daily life, sometimes. I know I do, when I’m sick, crazy, and trans. Which is all the time. Sometimes just the sheer logistics of negotiating your life are too much. I want to say that that struggle is enough. It is good. It is important and noble. Thank you for doing it. Thank you for continuing to exist and live and love and care, and, yes–

dream. Thank you for holding onto those dreams even when everything seems to be falling about your ears.

They are possible. They are beautiful. They can happen. Existing is enough, and, yes, there is a future, and it is not only about a daily struggle, the daily struggle to actually do the dishes or floss your teeth or to get through the pain or for people to use your right pronouns or to be seen as a fucking whole human being. This is all life is, and it is not all life is. You can and do have a future as a trans person, as a sick person, as a crazy person, as someone with a disability. Remember that you deserve this shit just as much as anybody else. You have a right to be here. You have a right to be valued, to be heard. You have a right to be your own fabulous gendered self. You have a right to your mind and your feelings and for holding them, or not, however you need. You have a right to be sick in bed all day. And you have a right to take the space and place in the world that you have longed for.

Many people will say that you do not have a right to these things. But I see you, here, still living each day. I see you holding onto your dreams. I can’t say all your dreams are going to come true, or that shit is easy, because it’s not. But why not have dreams? They are wings on our heart. We all can use some wings sometimes.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

–Langston Hughes

Also, some resources:

If you’re feeling suicidal, please ask yourself these questions. Is there anyone you can call to be with you right now, even if they aren’t someone who’s 100% affirming? What things can calm you down or make you feel better? Consider making a madness map: http://www.theicarusproject.net/article/mad-maps-building-trails-to-where-we-want-to-be-input-needed. What kinds of things do you want to do to yourself? Are you thinking of hurting yourself or someone else? If so, PLEASE call any or all of these numbers (I unfortunately don’t have numbers that are outside the US:

The Fenway GLBT Helpline: 1-888-340-4520

GLBT National Hotline: 1-888-843-4564

Q Hotline: 866-539-2727

If you’re 24 or under, Trevor Helpline: 866-488-7386

Check out this website (TRIGGER WARNING for discussion of suicidal ideation).

Also, check out this awesome link and recording of it, if you’re needing a little hope.

Hold on there!