A Recovering Asshole's Perspective | On Transgenderism

I am very particular about a great many things.

It doesn't mean I'm inflexible. I just like the things I like. This has served me very well in life because I try to focus on the things that bring me joy. I find that celebrating life's little wins is a really nice way to keep oneself from swinging in the barn.

I love coffee. I love jokes. I love writing. I love gardening. I like my steak medium. I like my chicken skin crispy. I refuse to eat ketchup but I love ranch. I like saying “accelerate to attack speed” when I merge onto the interstate. I like saying “fly casual” when I see a cop. I need my music loud. I like gassing up my friends and seeing them succeed. 

All of these little things bring me joy. 

I'm also particular about my style, which I suppose isn't saying much. I like thin hoodies over a t-shirt. I like sweaters. I like a sick ass thin jacket that I can wear winter, spring, summer and fall. I have curated my closet to largely be red and black, with a few blue things. And this is great because clothing is an expression into the world that you are here, and you are comfortable and confident. When you pick out your favorite outfit, you are saying “This is me. This is who I am.”

But, have you ever had to wear an outfit that you hated? Maybe grandma made you a sweater and it was kind of embarrassing for you? Or you spilled a bushel of beans down the front of your shirt? Maybe popped a zit right before class or a big meeting and now it won't stop bleeding? Or later you find out you had something in your teeth or a booger hanging out of your nose? 

Do you feel it? If you stop and remember it, now, after the fact? That embarrassing, uncomfortable feeling that you are not showing up the way you feel like you want to be seen? That, this isn't you and you can't wait until you can get home and change, or shower, or hide the shame you feel when you can't present as the You that you want to be? 

I've been there. It's why I don't have any brown in my closet. I just don't like earth tones. Never really have. I don't think anyone would say that this makes me mentally ill. I just want to show up as the best version of me. The me that I feel comfortable as, when I'm amongst my friends, or my coworkers. 

I bet you feel that way, too. You want to feel like You.

Luckily, for most of us we can go home and change our clothes. We can slip into those worn sweats or that new dress or the power suit or I can put on my thin hoodie and sick ass jacket or any other number of things that make us unique or feel like You. And you should! You deserve to feel confident and You.

But what if it was deeper? This feeling of discomfort? Insidious and in your soul?

What if, through no fault, you didn't feel confident nor comfortable in your own skin? 

What if your body felt like an invasion? Like you were wearing someone else's skin? 

I'm not transgender. But I imagine that this is what it feels like for the small population of Trans folk. They wake up every morning in a foreign body - betrayed by their own skin. 

Can you please stop for a second, and ask yourself, “how would I feel if suddenly, I just felt like I was wearing grandma's ugly sweater but with every core and cell and fiber of my body?”

The reality is, I don't think Trans folk wake up one day and feel this way.

I believe that they know from the moment they are self aware. 

And I believe this, because I've asked. And almost always, when I ask them when they knew, they just shrug and say “I always knew.”

Now, maybe they couldn't put it into words. But this idea, this feeling that something is wrong, that they are not in the right body for who they are? It sounds awful, but it’s consistent. There's no wonder the suicide rate for Trans folk is so high. That's what waking up every day in the wrong body will do to you. 

And that's why, when I meet someone who is brave enough to present as they see themselves, I'm not a fucking asshole about it. I feel that way with clothes sometimes. I can't imagine how fucked up I would feel if I knew my body wasn't me.

There are a lot of Trans folk facing mental illness, but it's not because they find the courage to make their body their own. It's because of fucking assholes in this country who are using them as some manner of boogeyman to strip rights from people who are just trying to live their life. 

Don't come at me with any religious bullshit, either. There's not a single message from Jesus about Trans folk, but there are unquestionably messages from Jesus about hoarding money, treating others poorly, lifting up the least of us, and being kind. I am fed up, on behalf of Trans folk, with the religious crusades against them.

One popular argument is that “God doesn't make mistakes?”

Are you fucking stupid? You are, if you believe this. There are so many nuances in genetics and biology. So many miscarriages. Diseases. Unjust outcomes. Are those mistakes? Or are they plans? Maybe they are just what happens when complex biological processes happen. It's neither a plan, nor a mistake. It's just the cards that were dealt. Who the fuck are these zealots to judge what's a mistake or not. In fact, maybe transgenderism isn't a mistake. Maybe it's a test. And if you're one of the “religious” who think Trans is a crime against God, maybe the joke is on you and you just failed the first test, which is treat others as you would be treated.

I don't know that this editorial will change anyone's mind, especially people who are too stuck or too chicken shit to look outside of themselves for a second to gain a new perspective. I hope it does shake some of you loose, though. I hope it opens some eyes to the idea that there's a lot of ways to live and we don't know what's happening behind closed doors. We don't know the private battles people are dealing with. Instead of judging, perhaps we should lead with curiosity and empathy. There was an excellent interview with Laura Jane Grace in Rolling Stone several years back where she tells her story of finding her real self. It was eye opening for me, and I credit her and her bravery for starting me down my path of becoming a recovering asshole. I think that's a good place to start for those with a closed mind.

The song Miranda by Frank Turner is also a great and quick way to just entertain a new idea, a new way of thinking. Pretty much the entire Against Me! catalog, too. There is music and literature that offers you the tools to not be a fucking asshole, and to start to at least try to understand a different perspective.

And if you feel like you are stuck in a body that isn't yours, please take heed that there are safe spaces. There are resources. And those of us who aren't fucking assholes want you to feel comfort. We want you to find the You that you feel in your soul. We want you to live your best life. If that's as a man or a woman or a secret third thing is up to you.