I’ve been feeling guilty for misrepresenting myself to society.

THATS FUCKED UP.

I haven’t been misrepresenting myself to society! Society assigned its own meaning to me, and I went along with the status quo, because, lets face it, we are NOT born revolutionaries. We need to unlearn the ideas pressed on us from our earliest understanding, and recreate ourselves as we are. Then, maybe then, we can have the strength to fight societies assignation, and show ourselves for who we are.

Society does not make it easy for us. Not even those that are meant to support us, make it easy.

The fear of rejection makes me silent when I wish I could scream I AM A MAN.

I want to get a hair cut.
I want to buy new clothes.
I want people to stop defaulting to ree-anne after they meet me, though they call me Ryan over the phone.

Someone asked me today whether I would like him to call me he/him or she/her, or something else altogether. I was so warmed by that respect.

At this point, well… I refer to myself using male pronouns when I remember, but I am still defeating 22 years of conditioning. I don’t expect other people to start calling me he/him/his until I am physically androgynous or starting to pass.

I worry about so much… coming out to my mother, to the Grasby’s, to people at work. (Although I know some people from work have read this blog so no doubt there is a little gossip). I worry about affording to transition. I worry about the size of my breasts. I worry about finding a psychologist. I worry about finding a GP. I worry about transitioning on the job.

This isn’t a walk in the park. One person said to me that they didn’t see why I would risk screwing up my good looks by transitioning.

My LOOKS.

I mean SHIT!

WHO CARES ABOUT MY LOOKS?

Transitioning could earn me rejection from people I love, could hurt my mother even more, could damage my career, the t-therapy is expensive, the surgery more so.

This whole thing is scary, and enormous, but it is WORTH IT.

Its not cosmetic. Its ME.