*Wear PURPLE all through the trial and tell people why yr wearing it. Post pics on our wall of yr community wearing purple, spread the word.
*Change yr profile pic on all yr social media sites to one of CeCe or CeCe inspired Art. We have tons of pics on the FB page.
Support CeCe McDonald!
Beautifully said. I hope the truth comes out whatever it is. It’s so sad that in our bigotted society people like us have to almost have bigotted thoughts ourselves in the opposite before condemning one of our own. It’s hard to imagine a woman actively seeking out trouble. *sigh* I wish people could just learn to live and let live.
Bleh…and stuff.
So today marks one week back on hormones. I’ve been talking a lower dose of anti androgens in order to try to retain a little bit of my sex drive. So far so good. Now of course I’m paranoid that it will be too little and I won’t get the desired changes to everything else. I think I’m a little scared by my determination to stay with it this time.
There’s so much that will change in the coming months and years. Will I find the courage to come out or be a crossdressing woman for work and holidays? If I do come out will I lose my job? Probably. Will I be able to find another in my field of work. Probably not. Will I be able to support myself? Probably not. Hmm…this is depressing. Will I keep my lifelong friends? Most likely also not.
Will I finally feel comfortable in my body? Who knows +/- is better than definite -. But who knows. Maybe I won’t lose all that stuff. Maybe I will which will lead me down a much better path in life. For the most part I enjoy my job. Or…can tolerate it. But I don’t love it. Maybe I’ll find something that I do love and excel at. My “lifelong friends” are really my lifelong friends because I grew up in a neighborhood full of kids that I decided I didn’t want to get bullied by and therefore assimilated to their social structure. So are they really my lifelong friends? Or just acquaintances of convenience? Maybe I will lose all of them, and then maybe I’ll find some super kickass people that really know and love me for who I am. I suppose I’ve already found a few and for that I’m truly thankful, but still scared shitless.
Speaking of shitless…tomorrow will mark one week that I have been taking Chantix to hopefully quit smoking. Which of course causes constipation. Yum! Just what people love to think about and fetishize. Constipated trans women! Anywho…I’m so hardheaded that even though the pills are kind of working and taking away the enjoyment of smoking, I persist. Though I have noticed I don’t have one the minute I wake up anymore. So it’s a start right? And quitting will be very good for my health and transition. So..in the mouth and through the gums, watch out tummy, here it comes!
I’m really going to try to be more active in blogging from now on. This is two in two weeks. So…kudos to me. Maybe I’ll get into some political or social issues, but for now, I need to focus on me and what the hell I’m going to do when I grow up.
Well, I’ve finally come to my breaking point. I’ve tried to put this off for as long as possible, but I just can’t stand this mask any longer after starting to peel it off months ago.
Today I have renewed my commitment to myself to be myself before I’m 60 years old and don’t have much time left to enjoy it. All of the older girls I talk to seem to say they wish they had started earlier and well, I already do and I’m only 28. I am back on HRT. I have done a LOT more research and I’m sure there’s still a LOT more to do, but well…fuck it. It’s begun.
I found a lab online that mails out home hormone test kits and then does the analysis in their labs and gives you the results. So I’m pretty stoked about that. I’ve decided to lessen my blockers because they KILLED my sex drive and up my estrogen by 2 mg for a total of 4 a day. Here’s hoping for happiness and the ability to see the finish line this time…but…there really isn’t a finish line is there? I suppose the finish line is death…so please let there be a lot of turns and twists before I see the finish line then.
Either way I am feeling enthused by this. Empowered. Yea…I am transwoman! Hear me roar!
Now…If I could just tell my friends. I suppose they’ll start to notice in a year or so. Maybe. They are pretty oblivious. It took months just to notice I was waxing my eyebrows and let me tell you this, my eyebrows are thick as two caterpillars making love!
Anywho, I will try to blog more now, as it may help someone else in my shoes. Let the madness begin!
Everyone needs to check out Morgansea! She’s my favorite trans-vlogger!
Oy, making my latest trannystar galactica video took a lot of me. It talks about transphobia in the media, and that may be triggering… i guess it was for me… but it’s also coupled with a bit of performance anxiety.. i wanna go la down.
Boycott Queerty.com…but first tell them what you think
This is absolutely disgusting and deplorable. As a trans woman who is still living in the closet and coming to grips with the years I’ve wasted trying to be something I’m not, this article only further shows me the hardships that I will face as a person for simply being me.
Just today, I was hesitant to leave my home in clothes that I identify with because of fear of reactions that STRAIGHT, close-minded, intolerant, assholes might have towards me. Now, I return home to find this from the community of people that I am SUPPOSED to identify with?
I am a human being. I deserve to exist in peace as long as I don’t harm others. Why is this such a difficult concept for humanity to understand?
Who cares whether I THINK I’m woman or not? What harm does thinking or knowing do to anyone if those thoughts or knowledge doesn’t affect others?
Your article has made me hate my closet even more. Despise the lies that I’m forced to cover myself with everyday when I get up and leave my home. I feel such pain and sadness knowing that someone on the edge may read this and lose all hope. Feeling that even the group of people with which they are supposed to have support from does not understand or even respect them.
I hope when you close your eyes to go to sleep at night, you see the guns pointed at the heads of all those who have lost hope. The nooses that dangle waiting for the necks of those that live in the closet that will know become their final resting place. The bottles of pills and knives sitting on dressers next to the boys/girls/men/women who only want to be themselves.
The blossom blooms in the splendor of beautiful beginnings begun with new hope. Rising above the other flowers I stretch my petals out and up. Up and out of the closet and dirt of denial. Sprouting from the remains of last year’s flowers, now mulch for me to feed upon. Food for thought. Roots digging so I can weather the drought of loneliness as I grow. A solitary begonia in a sea of dandelions, roaring for me to go away and shrivel up and die. Mad that my petals don’t match their manes. Accusing my pollen of contaminating their seeds. Having the audacity to call ME a weed. But I am the scarlet begonia in bloom breaking free from the past like a child from the womb.
