Finding Happiness in Transition

In the world I’ve peered into of trans women there are different kinds of people with different kinds of goals. Remember that most all of these people have an identity of female or female”ish” for their gender with a male body to start with.

Some are not to be content with anything short of not just physical transformation, but the kind of perfection that really only could come from not only having been born with two X chromosomes but a good deal of luck with genetics, a willingness to restrict calories to a crazy extent and an airbrush artist.

If someone feels like this and they’re young, e.g. in they’re teens and are able to have puberty blockers and go through puberty with the right hormones they  may well be happy. That’s starting to be true for trans women who are growing up today and it’s wonderful.

However, for someone transitioning in their 40’s, 50’s or beyond it is a Quixotic dream to undo all of the “damage” that a male puberty has done. Folks like this seek surgery after surgery and are never happy, never content.

Some don’t seem to “get” that women aren’t all the same and that just because they are now women doesn’t mean they have to wear pink and purple frilly dresses, and crazy amounts of make up. It’s ok to become a butch woman too, and to keep hobbies one had as a guy like working on cars or carving sculptures with chainsaws.

The point of transition is to become who you should be and to escape the artificial bonds put on you by gender, not to substitute a set of female bonds for the male bonds you’re escaping. Don’t wear what you don’t like to wear. Don’t cook if you don’t like to. Don’t let gender stereotypes inform your behavior. Use your freedom to engage in activities that might have been denied you as a man if that’s possible.

My opinion is that happiness in transition is to accept that there are limitations to what can be done and to celebrate what you can accomplish, not decry what you don’t have. I don’t have a full head of hair, oh well. Neither did my mother and neither do many women. That’s why people make wigs.

But I’m able to live the life I want to live, and in the word of a certain commercial: “Priceless”

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