I don’t feel stuck without emotions the way I did when I first started T. I am, from time to time, just so happy that I have had the opportunity to become who I’ve become. The bliss of feeling more at home in my body than ever before. And then I think about graduating and moving on, and I am hopeful and a little sad. I think about what I want to do in the world and who I want to be and how I love and am loved and want to love and be loved, and I feel a deep in my chest sense of longing and awe and it’s the most beautiful thing, even if it’s a bit wistfully sad. I have plans for the next four months, and then I have no idea where I’ll go. After this next month, I have no idea who I’ll be spending time with. I have so many options and soon the need to get a job will become overwhelming and stressful, but until then I’m looking at all the places I could go.
I went to the grocery store yesterday to get a slice of cake to celebrate not getting my period this month.
Everyone gendered me properly. T is doing good things.
but that are a result of testosterone nonetheless
- I laugh a lot easier
- I smile easier
- I’m getting more outgoing
- I worry less
this is likely a confirmation that I am making the right choice. one of my friends who hadn’t seen me for two weeks told me I’m looking decidedly masculine now. I’m so excited.
The past week and a half I didn’t notice so many changes. I think I’m shifting from the initial period of novelty where everything is exciting and every day brings a new change to a slower, calmer transitioning. I hadn’t noticed much besides feeling achey and having a sore throat (probably from a cold on the throat part). I quit spending time every morning enthusiastically searching my face and body for signals of change.
Today, after a leisurely shower, I did notice some changes- I have less surface fat, so my thighs/arms/everything feels firmer; my hairline is shifting; I’m continuing to get fuzzier, most noticeable on my neck though I’m more enthused about the slowly increasing stubble on my face; my belly is same as ever, but my butt and boobs are slightly smaller.
Emotionally, my feelings are changing. It’s a little confusing. A tells me that I will master it in time, but that it will be a process- that’s not something that swiftly switches over but more a long haul adaptation.
On Tuesday I go in to get blood drawn and talk to my doctor. Not sure if we’ll increase the dosage or keep it where it is.
I am so grumpy tonight and feeling kinda shitty. I’ve been thinking a little too much about my family and I’m just not feeling great tonight and I feel like I’m going to cry but it just. isn’t. happening. This might take some getting used to. I didn’t think it would, but perhaps that was naive of me.
Testosterone has plenty of medical effects, some fun, some ridiculous, some unfortunate (hot flashes, anyone?). Beyond that, passing in public has its own side effects. Whereas with other transitional steps you very gradually notice people’s changing perceptions of you, with T you may have a much more rapid increase in the frequency with which you pass. This, and perhaps the gender security that testosterone can bring, allows for a whole lot of weird possibilities.
When I first talked in depth about starting testosterone with one of my trans mentors, he offered me his horror story: after some time on T, he took an introspective pause and found himself wondering when he became such a sexist little fuck. His words, not mine. Testosterone is complicated far beyond its physical impact. Suddenly being able to access masculine privilege- even when it comes with the loss of cis-privilege- was a driving force for that. I myself am trying to be very conscious of the privilege that I am gaining. I notice that people trust what I say more, that when I give directions people take them seriously, and that people have more respect for my personal space. I don’t want to lose track of the issues that women deal with everyday, and I want to use this masculine privilege to promote feminism, as ironic as it is that my being perceived as male will make certain populations more willing to take my word on what it is like to be female.
Other trans guys have mentioned becoming more visual (i.e., becoming more interested in checking people out) and gaining confidence. Part of the confidence might be an internal wrangling with the results of hormone therapy; becoming the person you know you are and want to be certainly hasn’t hurt my self-esteem. Part of it is also a newfound ability to seize certain of the roles that men are given in society. The masculine gaze is no longer a new term. Being male seems to give you a right to look, watch, gaze. Being read as male will change the way people react to you, and the respect that men are given can help build up individual confidence. You started out transgendered in a female body, in a society where female is “other” and less than. Transitioning helps you feel comfortable with yourself, and helps society feel more comfortable treating you like a full person.
I hate that I benefit from the sexist inequality of our society. I have felt like I’m abandoning post-third wave feminism in transitioning. I’m choosing to be male, and that means that I am choosing a certain type of privilege. I’ve come to terms with it, acknowledging that internal integrity and honesty is driving this change and not some desire for the benefits of masculinity. I actively and consciously engage with my concept of masculinity to best remain within feminism, and I am more of an asset to anything I believe in as the person I really am (trans, and masculine) than as what I was born at, but I don’t want to lose track of what this opt-in masculinity is giving me and the extent of misogyny and trans-misogyny in my world.
