[readolog_dropcap ]I[/readolog_dropcap]n 2003 I searched online for other trans guys. I found a LiveJournal Community called FTMVanity. In the same vein (or should I say vain) as Instagram it was a platform for trans guys to share photos. It was the only community I could find. I’d scroll through for hours. Back then, I longed to know other trans men that looked like me and felt like me. In those days, it was difficult to find a community online, let alone in person. We were hidden away either intentionally or unintentionally. In 2005, I went to a panel of transgender people at my college. I went because I had never met another trans person. It was incredible. To see these self-assured people talk about transitioning with such ease. I was in awe.
I met with one of the panelists, a transgender man. We chatted and met for coffee. I was happy and grateful for his presence in my life. He started a support group and everyone rallied around one another. We had finally found each other and we showered one another with support and love.
Fast forward to 2016 and I can google transgender and see so many people. I’m connected to hundreds upon hundreds of trans men. It’s incredibly powerful to be a part of such a huge evolution of visibility. On Instagram I can post about struggling with my testosterone and receive a flood of support. I write a blog or a column and get feedback about how my words resonated deeply with this person or that. However, I also get called afraid, confused and violent. The flood of support that I once felt from transgender and gender-nonconforming people has been replaced with the feeling of caution and, honestly, fear.
It’s hard to swallow when my feelings, my desires and my experiences are used to hurl insults my way. There is a big difference between constructive criticism and just being mean. I crave the criticism, the conversation from my community but the meanness cuts in a deep way. Seeing the infighting amongst the transgender and gender-nonconforming people is heartbreaking. We all face daily battles against a world that doesn’t feel ready for us. We should lift one another up. We should honor those who are willing to share their experiences and face this cruel world. We should notice the spirit as well as the words. (Thanks, Colleen!)
February 6th is my top surgery anniversary. I’d like to ask you for a gift: Let’s be nice. Let’s respect that fact that we are all on our journey. Let’s respect each other’s version of the world. Let’s get less offended by one another. Let’s open honest and forgiving conversations. Let’s think before we comment. Let’s meet up and chat over beer. Let’s try empathy first.
That’d be an incredible gift. But if that’s a gift you can’t afford, I’ll take furs, pinky rings and a monocle.
Photo from NYPL archives
I always love reading your blog. Your narrative displays a delicate blend of sensitivity, awareness, and openness.
Thank you for reading and the kind compliment. 🙂
Beautifully written!
Thank you! 🙂
Well said and sadly true. I’ve just stumbled upon your website in search of information as my son is about to start testosterone. I think that what has shocked me more on our journey is not people who I expected to be unkind who were surprisingly kind, but the people–kids and adults–who should have been kind, but weren’t.
Me too! I’ve been surprised at the personal attacks I’ve received from people I thought were community. If you need an ear, I’m here! I hope your son is well!