song against sex


~Binding~
January 13, 2011, 12:49 am
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While I don’t identify as transgender, I’ve always felt more androgynous than either male or female. When puberty hit, it was like my whole life was ruined; coupled with misogyny from my family’s religious expression, the extreme discomfort caused by being trapped in my own body was a huge contributor to depression throughout my teens. I’ve recently begun identifying as yada, or transyada, partially as an acknowledgment that I’m not exactly cis, even though I don’t have everything figured out yet and I don’t think I fit in the usual understanding of trans experiences.

My first exposure as a youngster to binding (re: Mulan and flappers) left me insanely jealous of people who bound, but oddly it was ages before it occurred to me that I could do it myself. Binding is extremely liberating for me. At this point, I’d rather bind my whole life than undergo top surgery (although that could change)–it feels like reclaiming something that was stolen me.

I keep reading all these horror stories about injuries caused by ace bandages, but that’s all I have. I’m currently using ace bandages + sports bras, and while it gave me no problems at first, it’s been growing more painful. It would mean the world to me to not have to choose between a body in which I’m confident and feel like myself, and a body that’s undamaged.

That ^ is from back when I submitted my app to transcircle.org, before they posted that they were overwhelmed and understaffed and that the answer to everybody was No.

BUT I’M ORDERING THEM SOON, SO YAY~

Also, I’ve pretty much decided that someday when I have a ~Real Job~, I’d really like to figure out a way to help other kids in need of binders. I’ve not only experienced the frustration myself, but I’ve made so many friends with various gender identities, many of whom share similar dysphoria and other Issues, and I know there are others out there. These situations are too common, and I want to be part of the movement to turn that shit around and make the world a safe, welcoming place for people who are different.



Jumping on the gender bandwagon, I guess <_<
December 14, 2010, 4:28 am
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/PEER PRESSURE.

I don’t have an exciting gender story or any firm conclusions or really even any steps in that direction. I suppose I’m sort of..apathetic? Earlier this year, when I made a new AVEN account, I’ll admit there was some Angst going on in this vein:

I wish I belonged in the Gender forum.
But I’m not trans.
So I don’t.
I WISH I HAD A REASON TO FEEL THIS WAY.

It eventually clicked that the fact that I was kind of depressed about my lack of gender issues was pretty much an indicator of gender issues. I still don’t consider myself trans; I’ve considered all kinds of labels–androgynous, agendered, neutrois, demigirl, etc.–and none of them feel like they really fit me. AND SO I’M BECOMING APATHETIC. I sometimes describe myself as semi-androgynous; that’s about as close as I can get right now to an accurate definition.

The end.



Why do /all/ of my gender issues revolve around what’s in my bra?!
November 13, 2010, 3:03 am
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[Or at least, I’d estimate, 90% of them.]

Tonight I went glow bowling with my family and a huge horde of teenagers in skate clothes and neon sunglasses (aka my youngest brother’s birthday party).  I loooooooooooooooove blacklight. I want it in my future!house. In the living room. And I want crazy skating rink carpet in there. BUT I DIGRESS.

The fun thing about glow bowling, of course, is all the glowing going on. My white “Turn off your TV and read” button was glowing like a lighthouse. I LOVE IT. A few minutes after arriving, I notice you can kind of see my makeshift binder glowing through my blue shirt. Eh, who cares? Not meeee. I was there to have fun, and have fun I did. I was especially bad at bowling tonight, due to some recent wrist issues (not to say that I’m any good when my wrists are healthy). I laughed a lot and we high-fived each other every time one of us got a strike.

About halfway through the night, I turned around to find a girl, one of the party guests, standing by me, leaning in with her face literally two inches away from mine. (Personal space, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.) She laughed at my obvious discomfort and then began her speech. “Next time you go glow bowling, don’t wear a white sports bra,” she said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you; I just think it’s hilarious.” (Commence hysterical giggling.)

What I wanted to say is quite different from what I actually said. I considered making a snappy remark, perhaps asking her why she wasn’t confronting another guest three feet away whose bra was also glowing through her shirt, or inquiring as to why sports bras are apparently so much funnier than..regular bras (seriously, what are they called), or sweetly informing her that when she turned around, I could see her bra through two shirts. I wanted to point out that my sister’s pink shirt was glowing brighter than my white bra, so good luck with that. I wanted to ask her why she felt like it was her place, as a sixteen-year-old, to tell me (an adult, a casual acquaintance, a chauffeur to and from bowling, and one of her hosts for the night) what I can and can’t wear. I wanted to tell her how many fucks I didn’t give, and I wanted to tell her that it’s a makeshift binder, not a sports bra, and that it was none of her business in the first place.

Instead, I just said that I didn’t know what she was talking about; I wasn’t embarrassed in the least, and I plain old didn’t care. At least I didn’t cause a scene?