So, as nearly every trans person knows, to get hormone treatment, let alone surgery, its necessary to be diagnosed with GID, Gender Identity Disorder. Which is a problem, because it’s a diagnosis of mental illness, which most of us don’t see as particularly applicable. But without it, how to make treatment available through health-care systems ? And some kind of gatepost system would appear to be necessary in a small number of cases.
Personally, what I’d like to see would be a move towards classification by the effects of the condition : taking gender dysphoria as a specific form of clinical depression, amenable to therapy, hormone and surgical treatment in a similar way to , say, depression based on thyroid disorders that may not need treatment because they pose actual physical danger.
And then there’s the really fun part of what to call it, where I would suggest the term Gender Orientation Depression, since it would make answering questions such a joy:-
“Why do you want to change gender ?”. GOD is making me.
“Why do you need surgery ?” Otherwise GOD would be down on me like a ton of bricks.
“Are you really sure about doing this because…( a, b, c…etc.)”. I just trust in the path that GOD shows me…
Now some may say that this is just mocking religion, but there is a side to transexuality which is profoundly spiritual, that hardly any cis person really takes seriously, and turn and turn about is a fair game. Also, anything that messes up the religious right is alright in my book, and they really can’t credibly argue with GOD.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
ANOTHER FRIDAY
3 kilo chicken breasts, sliced with tomato and mozarella filling, grilled with a pepper sauce, surrounding a boned duck with coconut and fruit stuffing,
3 kilo steak stewed in red wine, with pears and blackcurrant with a couple of chopped apples and 2 handfuls of walnuts, cinammon,all spice, cloves to taste
8 trout, sauted, skinned and poached in white wine with sliced kiwi
baked potato skins with alternate pea and tomato cheese custards
Bubble and squeak – 1kilo white cabbage, 1 kilo mixed veg, apple and .5 kilo of ground hazelnut, bread, egg and lots of sage to bind..
Double baked potatoes mashed with chestnut and cream
Green beans
Mushrooms and onions duxelles
Ginger carrots
Mashed celeriac (maybe)
Salad.
It’s the first taste of winter outside, so time to do some winter standards…
3 kilo steak stewed in red wine, with pears and blackcurrant with a couple of chopped apples and 2 handfuls of walnuts, cinammon,all spice, cloves to taste
8 trout, sauted, skinned and poached in white wine with sliced kiwi
baked potato skins with alternate pea and tomato cheese custards
Bubble and squeak – 1kilo white cabbage, 1 kilo mixed veg, apple and .5 kilo of ground hazelnut, bread, egg and lots of sage to bind..
Double baked potatoes mashed with chestnut and cream
Green beans
Mushrooms and onions duxelles
Ginger carrots
Mashed celeriac (maybe)
Salad.
It’s the first taste of winter outside, so time to do some winter standards…
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The 10 best things about m2f transition
Obviously all such lists are highly subjective. The order I’ve put these in isn’t set in stone even for me. A couple of them are a bit controversial, a couple have a down side as well, some may be harder to attain than others and one or two might cause complications with varying sexual orientations. There are also others which come some way towards making the final list but didn’t quite make it, so I wouldn’t put this forward as totally exhaustive.
1. Sisterhood.
2. Sisterhood
3. Sisterhood
4. Sisterhood
5. Sisterhood
6. Sisterhood
7. Sisterhood
8. Sisterhood
9. Sisterhood
10. Sisterhood
It’s also possible that this is somewhat overly influenced by the 10 year old grrl thing.
1. Sisterhood.
2. Sisterhood
3. Sisterhood
4. Sisterhood
5. Sisterhood
6. Sisterhood
7. Sisterhood
8. Sisterhood
9. Sisterhood
10. Sisterhood
It’s also possible that this is somewhat overly influenced by the 10 year old grrl thing.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Intimate categories
Gender. I regard myself as a genderqueer trans woman, in transition. Hopefully the term ‘trans woman in transition’, redolent with private meanings though it might be, is reasonably self-explanatory. Genderqueer is a general catch-all that I’m using in a number of specific ways.
Whilst I have no intention or desire to see myself as something other than female, having gone through such a massive gender shift, and undertaking, through transition, a melding of past and present personas, I want to keep the process as open as possible. Genderqueer self description ensures that. Then there’s the thing of seeing myself as a participant in the queer world. That is, for me, a natural concomitant of a gender shift, the queer perspectives that become normal in a world where gender has changed to a universal significator. And I suppose its also a general statement about support for the validity of all sorts of forms of the general gender diaspora.
Relationships. I regard myself as presently poly, pansexual and asexual. I have no particular desire for a mono life, nothing that would categorically prevent relationships with any gender, and no sexual desire.
To clarify this last point, think that if male sexuality is a laser, female sexuality is a torch, then mine is more of an overall glow. I am conscious of missing something, but I do have some truly amazing hugs.
Sexuality. Additional to the above, I view myself as the possessor of a prolapsed vagina. Correction of this might have implications for sexuality, though mainly its desirable for other reasons, like not wanting to throw up when I’m aware of that aspect of my anatomy. If you’ve got this far without understanding that none of this is about sex, go back to the beginning and start again.
Whilst I have no intention or desire to see myself as something other than female, having gone through such a massive gender shift, and undertaking, through transition, a melding of past and present personas, I want to keep the process as open as possible. Genderqueer self description ensures that. Then there’s the thing of seeing myself as a participant in the queer world. That is, for me, a natural concomitant of a gender shift, the queer perspectives that become normal in a world where gender has changed to a universal significator. And I suppose its also a general statement about support for the validity of all sorts of forms of the general gender diaspora.
Relationships. I regard myself as presently poly, pansexual and asexual. I have no particular desire for a mono life, nothing that would categorically prevent relationships with any gender, and no sexual desire.
To clarify this last point, think that if male sexuality is a laser, female sexuality is a torch, then mine is more of an overall glow. I am conscious of missing something, but I do have some truly amazing hugs.
Sexuality. Additional to the above, I view myself as the possessor of a prolapsed vagina. Correction of this might have implications for sexuality, though mainly its desirable for other reasons, like not wanting to throw up when I’m aware of that aspect of my anatomy. If you’ve got this far without understanding that none of this is about sex, go back to the beginning and start again.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
MY PLACE
Its been going for about 10 years now. It’s a cross between business, institution and meeting place. Its open 6 days and about 5 evenings a week, its basically where I live and work. There’s always a flow of students, teachers, artists, writers, musicians, academics, some tourists, some strange flotsam of the area. It’s a community hub and a last friendly house.
So I get to talk transition, gender, sisterhood, appearances, and the changing patterns of emotional and cognitive perceptions for up to a few hours a day with interesting, curious, and intelligent people who generally provide me with considerable support on so many levels.
One thing I’d very much like to do is to persuade a few of them to write something of their experiences here. It’s their transition as much as mine. It’s in the most seriously cool neighbourhood in Europe, and whilst I’d like to retain a degree of anonymity I’m happy to divulge information to potential visitors.
And I really, really, REALLY wish that this didn’t sound like some ridiculous fantasy. It isn’t.
So I get to talk transition, gender, sisterhood, appearances, and the changing patterns of emotional and cognitive perceptions for up to a few hours a day with interesting, curious, and intelligent people who generally provide me with considerable support on so many levels.
One thing I’d very much like to do is to persuade a few of them to write something of their experiences here. It’s their transition as much as mine. It’s in the most seriously cool neighbourhood in Europe, and whilst I’d like to retain a degree of anonymity I’m happy to divulge information to potential visitors.
And I really, really, REALLY wish that this didn’t sound like some ridiculous fantasy. It isn’t.
Monday, August 24, 2009
periods and privileges
So the following are two standard conversation / situations I’ve lucked out on, in terms of finding suitable responses. These strategies are, however, fairly idiosyncratic and not to be universally recommended.
The first occurred in one of those tedious conversations with a cis agenda that runs along the lines that you can’t be a real/full woman because you don’t share such near universal female experiences like periods. After granting the point, I asked the last speaker about how she assessed different slip liners in terms of absorbency. Receiving a puzzled look, I explained that blood coagulation problems meant that I had haemorrhoidal bleeding every day and therefore always wore always. I don’t really know how this came across, but the ensuing silence was satisfying.
The second is more to do with male conversation privilege. Whilst I’ve usually got no problems in modifying my conversational role to normal female, it’s a little different if you’re running your own sort of salon. And I am something of a femme queen ( in terms of strength and style, definitely not looks ). So one evening when I was being particularly marginalized I made a point of loudly thanking one longstanding friend for his growing acceptance of me as a woman. At his nonplussed look, I explained that by talking past me and ignoring my efforts to join the conversation he’d helped me a bit more in understanding how a true woman should be. Things got easier after that.
The first occurred in one of those tedious conversations with a cis agenda that runs along the lines that you can’t be a real/full woman because you don’t share such near universal female experiences like periods. After granting the point, I asked the last speaker about how she assessed different slip liners in terms of absorbency. Receiving a puzzled look, I explained that blood coagulation problems meant that I had haemorrhoidal bleeding every day and therefore always wore always. I don’t really know how this came across, but the ensuing silence was satisfying.
The second is more to do with male conversation privilege. Whilst I’ve usually got no problems in modifying my conversational role to normal female, it’s a little different if you’re running your own sort of salon. And I am something of a femme queen ( in terms of strength and style, definitely not looks ). So one evening when I was being particularly marginalized I made a point of loudly thanking one longstanding friend for his growing acceptance of me as a woman. At his nonplussed look, I explained that by talking past me and ignoring my efforts to join the conversation he’d helped me a bit more in understanding how a true woman should be. Things got easier after that.
Friday, August 14, 2009
15 books that had some sort of effect on me
with thanks to stephanie’s pillowbook.
‘The Thackery T. Lambshead pocket guide to eccentric and discredited diseases’( complete with illuminating illustrations )
Jeff VanderMeer’s delightful anthology details such illnesses as the malady of ghostly cities. More important, it’s a book that excites real envy in those permitted to glimpse its pages.The ultimate in loo books.
‘The Good Soldier’ by Ford Madox Ford is the saddest story ever told, and one of the great transatlantic novels.
‘Independent People’ by Halldor Laxness because sheep matter, and because here the nobel went to a deserving author.
‘Empire of the senseless’, by Kathy Acker. I am a member of the facebook group that wants to be Kathy Acker’s incestuous lovechild. Please do not make mock of a t-grrl’s innocent desires.
‘Dhalgren’ by Samuel R. Delany because it’s the best description of the real nature of the catastrophe.
‘Levana’ is de Quincey’s prose Xanadu.
‘Mirror to the sky’ by Mark Geston as an antidote to the shallow optimism of Dostoevsky.
‘Lud-in-the-mist’ by Hope Mirrlees is the finest fantasy ever to come out of the Bloomsbury group.
‘The Magic Mountain’ by Thomas Mann and the rush of the accelerating fall of the illusions of post 1848 Europe.
‘Queen of the states’ by Josephine Saxton for her intelligence, empathy, feminism and abundant merriment.
‘Engine Summer’ by John Crowley and a well of feeling before he got lost in the intricacies of Little Big.
’60 stories’ by Donald Barthelme, if only for ‘the great hug’. America’s premier fabulist.
‘Oliver Twist’ by Charles Dickens. Before reading this as a child I was lucky enough to have read most of Jane Austen, some Thackeray, Kipling, Trollope et al, so I was not permanently put off the 19th century novel by this vomit inducing mix of offensive caricature and sentimental verbiage. Both as child and teacher, I have found nothing to match it for the destruction of the desire to read.
‘Alice through the looking glass’ by Lewis Carroll in memory of mirrors unsuccessfully attempted.
‘The devils of Loudun’ by Aldous Huxley for an enlightening historical work, whether thesis or novel.
I calculated recently that, since birth, I’ve averaged about 1.75 books and 2.5 newpapers, or magazines, every day. I have a library with over 20,000 books and far too much time on my hands. Maybe next time 15 non-fiction.
with thanks to stephanie’s pillowbook.
‘The Thackery T. Lambshead pocket guide to eccentric and discredited diseases’( complete with illuminating illustrations )
Jeff VanderMeer’s delightful anthology details such illnesses as the malady of ghostly cities. More important, it’s a book that excites real envy in those permitted to glimpse its pages.The ultimate in loo books.
‘The Good Soldier’ by Ford Madox Ford is the saddest story ever told, and one of the great transatlantic novels.
‘Independent People’ by Halldor Laxness because sheep matter, and because here the nobel went to a deserving author.
‘Empire of the senseless’, by Kathy Acker. I am a member of the facebook group that wants to be Kathy Acker’s incestuous lovechild. Please do not make mock of a t-grrl’s innocent desires.
‘Dhalgren’ by Samuel R. Delany because it’s the best description of the real nature of the catastrophe.
‘Levana’ is de Quincey’s prose Xanadu.
‘Mirror to the sky’ by Mark Geston as an antidote to the shallow optimism of Dostoevsky.
‘Lud-in-the-mist’ by Hope Mirrlees is the finest fantasy ever to come out of the Bloomsbury group.
‘The Magic Mountain’ by Thomas Mann and the rush of the accelerating fall of the illusions of post 1848 Europe.
‘Queen of the states’ by Josephine Saxton for her intelligence, empathy, feminism and abundant merriment.
‘Engine Summer’ by John Crowley and a well of feeling before he got lost in the intricacies of Little Big.
’60 stories’ by Donald Barthelme, if only for ‘the great hug’. America’s premier fabulist.
‘Oliver Twist’ by Charles Dickens. Before reading this as a child I was lucky enough to have read most of Jane Austen, some Thackeray, Kipling, Trollope et al, so I was not permanently put off the 19th century novel by this vomit inducing mix of offensive caricature and sentimental verbiage. Both as child and teacher, I have found nothing to match it for the destruction of the desire to read.
‘Alice through the looking glass’ by Lewis Carroll in memory of mirrors unsuccessfully attempted.
‘The devils of Loudun’ by Aldous Huxley for an enlightening historical work, whether thesis or novel.
I calculated recently that, since birth, I’ve averaged about 1.75 books and 2.5 newpapers, or magazines, every day. I have a library with over 20,000 books and far too much time on my hands. Maybe next time 15 non-fiction.
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