CW: violence against transgender individuals, trans suicide rates
This country is becoming more terrifying by the day.
Especially for a community I care about deeply and tertiarily am a part of: the trans community.
I will begin by adding a disclaimer: I try my hardest to keep up with the changing appropriate terminology, but please let me know if anything I say is wrong. I also cannot speak for members of this community, other than one of a vaguely genderqueer but mostly female identified person like myself.
Seven years ago, I was completely uninformed about this topic. I knew it was a thing, but didn’t understand it at all. And I will admit that I probably cracked some jokes on behalf of transpeople at some point, for which I am eternally ashamed.
But as I became more entrenched in “researching” the LGBT community as I begin to identify my own pansexuality/queerness, I educated myself about transgender issues.
I began to develop the inklings of understanding about what it must be like to know from your earliest memories who you are, but be told you are irrevocably someone different.
I’ll couch this post in several warnings/qualifiers:
In this post, I’m going to discuss my experiences and observations regarding dating men and women. I’m going to limit it to cisgender (a person whose self-identity conforms with the gender that corresponds to their biological sex) partners. Experiences with my transgender partner are unique and outside the general scope of this post. (I’ve spoken with my ex and he’s given me permission to write about our relationship more in depth at some point. Stay tuned for that!)
Furthermore, since I only have experience with dating one woman (and marrying her and subsequently divorcing) my experience may be a bit limited in that. Though I have the experiences of friends to corroborate my stories and feelings.
So really what I’m saying is I’m just gonna tell you about how I feel. Which is what I always do here so why would now be any different?
Get ready for a ping-pong match of compare and contrast stream-of-consciousness wordvomit on this general subject. I make no guarantees where this will end up!
I know I’m still super young, but this is my first “milestone birthday” since I was 21. (Well, 25 but I’ve never rented a car so that one was pretty irrelevant.) I’m having a tiny bit of an existential crisis.
I feel like 30 is that age in which you really start adulting.
It’s so weird. When I was in college, I thought that 25 was super “adult.” I would have been out of school for a couple years, and definitely would have gotten my life together.
And then I hit 25 when I was in grad school and was still eating Ben and Jerry’s with my face buried into the container with no spoon while driving home from grad school at midnight and I realized that I was far from it.
I guess if you were to give my profession, my vocation, my passion, a title, it would be “Costume Technician.” There are many different titles that fall under that umbrella and I have had most of them: Stitcher, First Hand, Draper, Costume Craftsperson, even running wardrobe backstage.
Quite honestly, I’m wholly unqualified to do anything else. In high school, I babysat but never had a job in retail or serving. The summer after I graduated high school, I tried to get a job. I applied to anywhere in the mall that was hiring, as well as some restaurants. I was discouraged by the fact that they wanted to hire someone with prior experience, and yet I was just starting out. How was I supposed to get experience if I needed experience to get the job?
I ended up getting a job at Bath and Body Works, and, despite being shy, I found that I really had a talent for selling those gift baskets. I was just starting to learn how to operate the cash register when, about 20 hours into my new “career,” I was told that, unfortunately, they weren’t hitting their summer numbers and had to let go of their seasonal employees.
So I have 20 hours of experience working retail.
And still none serving, being a barista, or anything else remotely “marketable” in a mainstream sense. And I would rather live in a dumpster than be a nanny nowadays.
Looks like I’m going to have to keep staying gainfully employed in theatre. Otherwise I’m screwed.
Hey there, folks! After the positive response to my recent post about growing up homeschooled, my mom had a few corrections and additions to some of my statements. As a six year old, I guess my memory was a little foggy. I invited her to write about her own experience as a homeschooling mom to share on this blog. (While proofreading this piece, I was struck by how similar our writing styles are! And I learned things I had never known before.)
After finishing reading Amanda’s blog about her life as a homeschooler and how it may or may not have helped to mold her into the person she is now, I had an issue with one thing….how Michigan is one of the easiest states to homeschool in. The word “IS” is now true, but it wasn’t at the time. When we started to homeschool it was actually illegal for me to do so.
Exactly one year ago, I was packing up for my summer job, preparing to leave my new wife for my fourth summer away from her, once again sad that I hadn’t ever celebrated my birthday with her. I was living in Chicago, and miserable with my 3-5 hour a day commute. I had wrapped up the season for a theatre I was realizing wasn’t going to advance my career goals. I was considered “obsese” by the BMI’s standards. I was a prickly, negative person, gripped tightly in the talons of depression, and it was a struggle to want to go out and do anything fun with my wife before I left town. Every day was a challenge, and I was beginning to wonder if this was what it was going to be like to live the rest of my life.