Things are moving rapidly. Time is flying, a product of both my age and my relative lack of stress. Transitioning isn't even the greatest source of anxiety in my life. It's not even second. But it's the one that takes up most of my attention, because it's the one I can actually do something about.
About a month ago, I posted about my struggles accepting "Juliet," of conceiving of myself as female. And it's still not all the way there. But, undoubtedly, I am making progress. I *feel* like Juliet, now. I call myself Juliet, unless I'm almost forced not. Someone called today asking for "Dylan," and I almost couldn't admit it was me. It hurt. But it hurt in a "I'm finally really embracing Juliet" kind of way.
Last Friday was the first time I went to a restaurant as Juliet. That night, I went downtown in a bra but khakis and a pretty standard t-shirt, but I heard someone ask as I walked by "Is that a boy or a girl?" The next day, I was at a tailgate party for the LSU game, and the friend who hosted it said, afterwards, that her friends [who I'd never met] asked if I was a guy or a girl, even though I wasn't even wearing a bra. And this week, I've been on campus a fair amount, even talking to people etc., and it's gone fine. No one said anything, I didn't notice any looks [although I try to look straight ahead so I don't make myself nervous], no one yelled anything. It was good. Hell, last night an older lesbian said she'd be "drooling over me" [in an endearing, not creepy way] and that I looked like Julia Roberts, in response to me talking about my dysphoria more. I felt like Juliet. They didn't even seem tempted to say "he." I felt female.
In fact, I got overconfident. So much so that, when I went to a restaurant tonight and I heard my waitress say something like "Es bella por un chico, si?" it hurt ["Is pretty/beautiful for a boy, right?"]. I mentioned it to one of my friends, who said "That's good, right?" And I kind of agreed, moreso because she seemed so convinced it was. As if I couldn't reasonably expect better. As if all my confidence, all my assurance that I'd been gaining was founded upon politeness, not genuine passing. Pretty. For a boy. Half of that is good. The other half... goddamn it.
I feel close to being female. My voice, my dress, my self are all converging on female. I cause confusion even in "boi mode." A fair number of people have called me pretty, and I don't think they were all just doing it to be complimentary. Hell, even the waitress who said the comment was really nice. I imagine she said it just to compare notes, to point out that she had noticed and to see if others agreed. She didn't think I would understand what she said. But it still hurt. It still took me away from Juliet and reinstilled in me the fear, the doubt that accompanies so vulnerable an expression in most of our society.
Will I always be "pretty for a boy?" There are worse fates, but that would be a bitter pill to swallow. Will I always have my confidence increased only to have some errant comment or clocking [what we call the act of ascertaining I wasn't born female] shatter me? I feel like I've made a great deal of progress in the past nine months, hell in the past two [I decided upon "Juliet" mid-August]. But at each individual moment, it seems like I've so far to go. It seems like I'll never *truly* get there. It seems like I may try and I may get close, but I'll never get quite close enough.
It seems that way. I know, compared to where I was, that such thinking is very premature. I know, given the advantages I have, that I'm quite privileged in so many ways. And I know I have so much to be thankful for. I am. I really am. But, as selfish as it may be, I don't just want to be "bella por un chico." This isn't about being pretty [although that would be a wonderful bonus]. It's about being who I feel I need to be. It's just unfortunate that I need others to believe it, too.
About a month ago, I posted about my struggles accepting "Juliet," of conceiving of myself as female. And it's still not all the way there. But, undoubtedly, I am making progress. I *feel* like Juliet, now. I call myself Juliet, unless I'm almost forced not. Someone called today asking for "Dylan," and I almost couldn't admit it was me. It hurt. But it hurt in a "I'm finally really embracing Juliet" kind of way.
Last Friday was the first time I went to a restaurant as Juliet. That night, I went downtown in a bra but khakis and a pretty standard t-shirt, but I heard someone ask as I walked by "Is that a boy or a girl?" The next day, I was at a tailgate party for the LSU game, and the friend who hosted it said, afterwards, that her friends [who I'd never met] asked if I was a guy or a girl, even though I wasn't even wearing a bra. And this week, I've been on campus a fair amount, even talking to people etc., and it's gone fine. No one said anything, I didn't notice any looks [although I try to look straight ahead so I don't make myself nervous], no one yelled anything. It was good. Hell, last night an older lesbian said she'd be "drooling over me" [in an endearing, not creepy way] and that I looked like Julia Roberts, in response to me talking about my dysphoria more. I felt like Juliet. They didn't even seem tempted to say "he." I felt female.
In fact, I got overconfident. So much so that, when I went to a restaurant tonight and I heard my waitress say something like "Es bella por un chico, si?" it hurt ["Is pretty/beautiful for a boy, right?"]. I mentioned it to one of my friends, who said "That's good, right?" And I kind of agreed, moreso because she seemed so convinced it was. As if I couldn't reasonably expect better. As if all my confidence, all my assurance that I'd been gaining was founded upon politeness, not genuine passing. Pretty. For a boy. Half of that is good. The other half... goddamn it.
I feel close to being female. My voice, my dress, my self are all converging on female. I cause confusion even in "boi mode." A fair number of people have called me pretty, and I don't think they were all just doing it to be complimentary. Hell, even the waitress who said the comment was really nice. I imagine she said it just to compare notes, to point out that she had noticed and to see if others agreed. She didn't think I would understand what she said. But it still hurt. It still took me away from Juliet and reinstilled in me the fear, the doubt that accompanies so vulnerable an expression in most of our society.
Will I always be "pretty for a boy?" There are worse fates, but that would be a bitter pill to swallow. Will I always have my confidence increased only to have some errant comment or clocking [what we call the act of ascertaining I wasn't born female] shatter me? I feel like I've made a great deal of progress in the past nine months, hell in the past two [I decided upon "Juliet" mid-August]. But at each individual moment, it seems like I've so far to go. It seems like I'll never *truly* get there. It seems like I may try and I may get close, but I'll never get quite close enough.
It seems that way. I know, compared to where I was, that such thinking is very premature. I know, given the advantages I have, that I'm quite privileged in so many ways. And I know I have so much to be thankful for. I am. I really am. But, as selfish as it may be, I don't just want to be "bella por un chico." This isn't about being pretty [although that would be a wonderful bonus]. It's about being who I feel I need to be. It's just unfortunate that I need others to believe it, too.
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