It’s very uncomfortable to be trans and have the whole worldly (seemingly) debating the this and that, and the right and wrong of all these different aspects of our lives. 🌈🏳️‍⚧️

(Please bear with me. This has been edited and looked over a little so it’s not a stream of thoughts exactly. But neither am I going to bother with checking to see if this reads well or makes sense. See paragraph at the end.)

I often want to run away, shut my mouth, and hide forever. Never to be seen or heard from again.

When I do come out of isolation. When I do choose to speak, I wonder who might come out of the woodwork to deny, denigrate, or simply reject me.

When I’m in unfamiliar places, or with new people I have no idea who is a safe person or not.

I’m hyper vigilant and have honed that intuition. But still, sometimes I’m wrong and I find myself in sticky situations.

But what I’ve found, is safe people aren’t always safe. And safe places aren’t always safe.

Over the years I’ve experienced awful weirdness from enthusiastic allies, as well as other trans people, gay people, and loved ones.

No one is safe just because they say they are. Or because they should be.

There’s the half a dozen times over the years I could talk about where in public spaces, on the street or public transport I’ve feared for my physical safety, and once where I was basically threatened with my life. (Not including the gun incident).

I was bullied for seven years at my last address by a neighbour who began it all with transphobia. In the end, he became so clever no one could really help me. The burden of proof was placed squarely at my feet whilst I lived the trauma. I had zero spoons to deal with it.

The police told me it wasn’t a hate crime. I was offered a court case but advised I would most likely lose it and I would have to attend court and have my personal information made public. And he wouldn’t even have to attend.

Housing could not move me despite being near the highest priority.

I was banned from a well known support centre I had been attending for a few years in my town. I asked for help with another trans person who was a new service user and was openly making horrendously self-hateful jokes, and a volunteer who was making homophobic jokes.

I couldn’t face these individuals directly so I asked the support staff for help. Nothing was done about it and when I complained (badly, I was hurting and I said a few choice words) I was banned from the centre indefinitely. Rather than deal with people who were verbally hateful they banned me, who had reported and asked for help.

I attended a LGBT support social group in my town for quite a long time. I was often the only trans person there. And it was a nice group but there were a couple individuals either did not speak to me at all, or refused to get my pronouns right.

One time, a seemingly straight person wandered in out of curiosity. and was invited to sit down. They noticed I was trans and started making fun of me. None of the other members said a word to defend or support me. They just kinda let it happen.

I realised after a long time that I just didn’t feel part of the group and I stopped going.

I made lots of trans friends when I came out. Some of them were very activism focused. There was a lot of pressure to take part in those activities. One demanded I march in Pride through the city. She said it was the duty of all trans people to march. I had to explain to her that my anxiety about it was too much. But I shouldn’t have even made an excuse. It was my choice to, or not.

She made it clear I wasn’t pulling my weight.

In fact I’ve found it quite common in community to be judged as not trans enough, or too trans, or not like that!

For a time I was pulled into a kind of social justice extremism through online community. I learned a lot from them and made some real, nice friends. But at the edges of the ideologies I was exploring was a real hatred for straight people, cis people, men in general, and other related stuff. I was beginning to buy into that and becoming ever more bitter and traumatised by my own mental processing of these ideas.

In the end. My way out was by having the breakdown of a lifetime.

These are the kinds of groups and organisations that put rainbow flags on their marketing materials each summer, and have diversity policies.

But they are either unwilling or unable to actually treat LGBT people like actual people, with any dignity or respect.

Transphobia is rampant in the health care system. Individuals (doctors, nurses, pharmacy staff) are no less likely to be hateful assholes than anyone else. I’ve been threatened, dehumanised, mocked, demeaned, told I’m doing trans wrong, and gaslit at various times.

Because I’ve had so many difficulties in my life I’ve need to reach out to support or health organisations for help at various times. Almost without fail they start with trying to get me to go to trans groups, or LGBT groups. That’s not in itself wrong. But

They don’t meet me as a human that needs help. They see me as a trans person who needs to go be with other the trans people. As if segregation is the answer. As if these groups are by definition, helpful and healing experiences. When in fact they are often full of ordinary messed up people just like me. Places where shit goes down and hurt people go around hurting people.

On the other hand..

One of my biggest challenges has been dealing with my own internalised self-hate. That has been an extremely destructive force in my life and basically nearly killed me in various ways.

I was raised in a culture where racism, misogyny, homophobia, and ableism were completely normal and encouraged.

It’s impossible for children to not take some of that on. No matter how well they were parented. At school we used to make fun of people that were different. And at home we watched news stories about scandalous gay people or transsexuals. Movies and TV shows were queer people were bad, or perverted.

I took part in that even when I knew something was terribly wrong inside of me.

What a brutal start in life for a kid. For so many of us.

I’ve been working on myself for decades now. It took many years to see how all this affected me. And how I passed some of that on too, and helped perpetuate it. How I took part in that in my own way. When I knew no better.

But now I know better. Better than yesterday at least. I know to be where I am and figure my own way forward. And not crumble anymore when people demand I perform my truth in a way they want me to.

I’m learning to listen.

I’m learning that my truth might be wrong.

I’m learning that I often need to face my own bullshit. My own unkindness. My own inadequacies. My own internalised isms. My own bigotry.

Because even tho it’s mine. It didn’t originate with me. But it is mine to deal with. Until maybe one day it might be healed.

But I’m done with the cult of healing too. I know it’s possible. It’s just not really up to me. Not in the end. All I can do is show up for it.

All I can do is listen. And accommodate as best I can. Or move on. Inside and outside.

I don’t have to perpetuate anything. I don’t have to be ok with being trans. And no one else does either.

But I want to be ok to be alive. To be a human. To be allowed, accepted even. To have a life. With feelings and thoughts, and loved ones, and creativity. And stories. And I feel that for all others too.

Our identities do matter. But it’s just one part of who we are.

I’m not trans. I’m a person. Who is trans.

And gay. And queer. And disabled. And on the spectrum. And sensitive. And traumatised. And a survivor. And a parent. And an artist. And a photographer. And a Gen X. And grumpy. And intelligent. And intuitive. And ok. And not ok. And nothing. Nothing.

Thanks for reading. This is a personal blog. It’s not supposed to change hearts and minds. It’s not activism. It’s not me trying to align myself in some political or ideological camp. It’s not a response to this single post or that particular person. And I’m here for all people who can show up as a human first. I don’t honestly mind what you think as long as you can treat me as a person first and aren’t actively trying to harm others. This is just me telling stories. Inspired by recent events, yes. But true stories about things I’ve experienced and how I’ve interpreted them at the time. I’m allowing and encouraging myself to retell those truths. They might not exactly be where I am right today, or tomorrow. But I’m telling these stories because I have not talked about them for years, and hey I’m down for some catharsis, a smidge of healing if it’s available. PLEASE GOD FFS HEAL ME. And the world too. Thanks.