Like when I was a kid, i remember reading one of my mom’s old college textbooks about human sexuality or something from the late 70s or early 80s. I remember specifically looking up sex and gender (there were no signs!), and the options laid out were stuff like transvestites and closed gay people and people who were mentally convinced they were trapped in the wrong body. Like men in dresses doing it to advertise to other men secretly behind their wives’ backs, or in private, masturbating to themselves. (We NOW know that books like these were actively part of the problem)
And I was just like, ewwww no, because there was ALREADY a super negative stigma to me that I didn’t ever want to be. Like I remember being on the school bus thinking that I wasn’t going to allow myself to be gay. “I can’t be gay. I can’t be gay. I’m not going to be gay.” I would tell myself, in the same fashion of wishing for something or sleeping with the picture of something under your pillow to make it be true.
It wasn’t until years later, after years of being accused and bullied and teased by ALL of my friends for being gay and into men (I wasn’t), and trying out all of the porn and thought experiments to try to figure out what was wrong with me (nothing was ever right, I slept with several people and it always felt meh and wrong. I thought I might be into men, but no that felt off too), that it hit me. Nothing ever felt right until I thought of myself and was seen as a woman. Then, suddenly, sex felt (in my head, before action) appealing, socializing felt appealing, and living felt appealing. It was like a pressurized case of my entire life’s memories and possibilities was unlocked and everything started streaming out. I was seeing signs, interactions, reasons, explanations, loss, potentials… I cried for days, not knowing exactly what to do, and held this information to myself for years, and one or two of my closest, accepting friends for a few more years, and didn’t tell anybody I grew up with at all, because they were part of the source of the walls I was living in and the problem. A lot of those people, I even considered family at the time.
And now, in my 30s and rapidly approaching 40, I’m trying to cope with the loss of my teens and twenties, and, at least for a brief time, was really proud of younger generations for making it better for each other, so that people wouldn’t lose out on some of the most important times of their lives that your 20s are so important for. I do mean sex, drugs, self discovery, travel, meeting people, partying, falling in love, learning, being confident, growing. Because doing all that in your 30s is possible, but we all know the new stigma of the trans woman dressing like a slut in her 30s and it being “cringe”. That’s a shitty stigma, it’s just more of the same ignorance and attempts at oppression, just later in life. She’s trying out things that she didn’t get to when she was an actual teenager. Her hormones are on blast, let her be fucking happy and discover herself. At least she has the courage to, unlike the little shits who say everything is cringe.
I am still finding myself. I’m still exploring options. I’m exploring realities. But it’s hard. Politics, loss of family and friends and possibilities and career options and confidence, and it’s all at a strange and hostile time in history. Yes things could be worse, but they could also be better, too. I shouldn’t have to worry about going outside or what I say or think or do or who I love. Nobody should have to worry about who they are.
Fist bump for “mother’s outdated psych textbooks”! Mine were about what I guess we’d call now atypical and neurodivergent child development. Lots of use of the R word. 😬
Also, I’m glad you figured yourself out, or are on the path to it (it’s a journey and I’m not sure how to know when it’s done). From experience: life is more comfortable when you’re not trying to fit yourself into a box of the wrong shape, even if politics makes it wicked scary, at least you’re not fighting your own brain as much.
As someone slightly older than you: don’t forget your stretches and exercises. Sunscreen is your friend. (All that’s supposed to be reassuring and friendly)
[not the person you replied to]No worries. Especially with some is the less well-known identities, if you don’t know it exists you can’t know it’s an option to identify with it.
For me, being asexual was a possibility and identifying as asexual was an option, neither of which I was aware of in high school.
Option? More like reality, no? I don’t think sexuality and identity are options, do you?
I think they meant as a figure of speech.
Like when I was a kid, i remember reading one of my mom’s old college textbooks about human sexuality or something from the late 70s or early 80s. I remember specifically looking up sex and gender (there were no signs!), and the options laid out were stuff like transvestites and closed gay people and people who were mentally convinced they were trapped in the wrong body. Like men in dresses doing it to advertise to other men secretly behind their wives’ backs, or in private, masturbating to themselves. (We NOW know that books like these were actively part of the problem)
And I was just like, ewwww no, because there was ALREADY a super negative stigma to me that I didn’t ever want to be. Like I remember being on the school bus thinking that I wasn’t going to allow myself to be gay. “I can’t be gay. I can’t be gay. I’m not going to be gay.” I would tell myself, in the same fashion of wishing for something or sleeping with the picture of something under your pillow to make it be true.
It wasn’t until years later, after years of being accused and bullied and teased by ALL of my friends for being gay and into men (I wasn’t), and trying out all of the porn and thought experiments to try to figure out what was wrong with me (nothing was ever right, I slept with several people and it always felt meh and wrong. I thought I might be into men, but no that felt off too), that it hit me. Nothing ever felt right until I thought of myself and was seen as a woman. Then, suddenly, sex felt (in my head, before action) appealing, socializing felt appealing, and living felt appealing. It was like a pressurized case of my entire life’s memories and possibilities was unlocked and everything started streaming out. I was seeing signs, interactions, reasons, explanations, loss, potentials… I cried for days, not knowing exactly what to do, and held this information to myself for years, and one or two of my closest, accepting friends for a few more years, and didn’t tell anybody I grew up with at all, because they were part of the source of the walls I was living in and the problem. A lot of those people, I even considered family at the time.
And now, in my 30s and rapidly approaching 40, I’m trying to cope with the loss of my teens and twenties, and, at least for a brief time, was really proud of younger generations for making it better for each other, so that people wouldn’t lose out on some of the most important times of their lives that your 20s are so important for. I do mean sex, drugs, self discovery, travel, meeting people, partying, falling in love, learning, being confident, growing. Because doing all that in your 30s is possible, but we all know the new stigma of the trans woman dressing like a slut in her 30s and it being “cringe”. That’s a shitty stigma, it’s just more of the same ignorance and attempts at oppression, just later in life. She’s trying out things that she didn’t get to when she was an actual teenager. Her hormones are on blast, let her be fucking happy and discover herself. At least she has the courage to, unlike the little shits who say everything is cringe.
I am still finding myself. I’m still exploring options. I’m exploring realities. But it’s hard. Politics, loss of family and friends and possibilities and career options and confidence, and it’s all at a strange and hostile time in history. Yes things could be worse, but they could also be better, too. I shouldn’t have to worry about going outside or what I say or think or do or who I love. Nobody should have to worry about who they are.
Nobody.
Fist bump for “mother’s outdated psych textbooks”! Mine were about what I guess we’d call now atypical and neurodivergent child development. Lots of use of the R word. 😬
Also, I’m glad you figured yourself out, or are on the path to it (it’s a journey and I’m not sure how to know when it’s done). From experience: life is more comfortable when you’re not trying to fit yourself into a box of the wrong shape, even if politics makes it wicked scary, at least you’re not fighting your own brain as much.
As someone slightly older than you: don’t forget your stretches and exercises. Sunscreen is your friend. (All that’s supposed to be reassuring and friendly)
Yeah, “option” isn’t the best word here - “possibility” might be better.
[not the person you replied to]No worries. Especially with some is the less well-known identities, if you don’t know it exists you can’t know it’s an option to identify with it.
For me, being asexual was a possibility and identifying as asexual was an option, neither of which I was aware of in high school.
What I’m trying to say is words are hard.