I had this idea – LGBTQ+ Arts’n’Crafts Bible Study. It’s kinda ridiculous, but I’d love for it to be a real thing. I imagine a buncha dykes, twinks and trannies hanging out, doing arts and crafts, talking about the Bible and how we can use God’s Word to help us navigate our lives in this modern Babylon. You might notice I used “we” and “us” as if I count myself among the LGBTQ+. Not an accident. The thing prob’ly won’t happen – it’d require me finding a place to host an event that would pretty much turn out to be me, alone, drawing and thinking about the Bible, which is what I do anyway, and I’m not very sociable or likely to invite a buncha people to my house. I started making a flyer because I think it’s funny and I’d want i to happen and maybe if I show people a funny flyer they’ll express an interest in actually doing it.
Then I read an article at Bitch Media about some pop singer who is kinda queerish – https://www.bitchmedia.org/article/is-harry-styles-queer-complexity-of-queerbaiting – which also mentioned Kurt Cobain and posited that he was a trans-woman and I was like “Well, fuck. Am I gonna come out?” ’cause if Kurdled Cokain was a trans-woman, then there just ain’t no ambiguity no mo’.
Was a time when I thought “trans” meant wanting to b the other gender. Wayne County got what was called a “sex-change operation” and became Jayne County. That seemed kinda weird, but it didn’t affect me much. In the 90’s – my mid-20’s – I came across a deeper understanding of trans as being about how a person perceived their self, not necessarily including any positive or negative feelings about one’s body. It was immediately obvious to me that I was a woman who was attracted to women in a male body, and I immediately said so, out loud, and was immediately informed that the thing I just said was not cool. My attempt to get info from the local PFLAG went unanswered. My girlfriend thought I wasn’t serious – that relationship was toxic as shit. She was all kindsa abusive – though she was less successful with physical abuse because I was able to grab her wrists and hold them so she couldn’t hit me – mostly with the psychological shit. I wasn’t sober, wasn’t getting appropriate mental health care, and was easily battered into a state of confusion and general agreement that I was a piece of shit. I got clean and sober and started taking the right meds, but our pattern was established, so for a few years I continued to endure her bullying, cheating and gaslighting. She finally dumped me.
During the course of all that, I never changed my mind about being a dyke with a dick, but I did learn to keep it on the down low to avoid mockery and/or rage. Nobody else I knew seemed to know anything about the whole girl-in-boy-body thing and it didn’t matter much in a purely practical sense. I got involved with women and did the stuff that people with my kind of body do. How I felt about me as an abstraction separate from this particular meat-carriage didn’t have to enter into the conversation. Sometimes the GF would make some assumption about me based on “how guys are” and I’d remind them that “I’m not that kinda guy”. I mighta mentioned feeling like a dyke occasionally – actually, I think I told one of ’em that, because she was bisexual and into LGBTQ+ advocacy and shit, but it really go anywhere because the relationship never seemed all that stable to me, which translated into “safe”, so we never got into all that. She was pretty demanding and controlling and I never felt like she was listening.
I quit being involved with women in any kinda sexual/romantic way about seven years ago. The last one I was with was a bisexual who only wanted an open relationship. I was okay with that for a few months, because I wanted to fuck her, but the fact that there was no possibility of a long-term, monogamous relationship meant that it couldn’t last. When she started talking about having a three-way, it was done. I’d love to have a female partner. I’ve given up on finding one I can actually feel safe enough with to really communicate who I am. It’s not something I think about alot.
I never thought about transitioning. Surgery and hormones wouldn’t give me the total experience of being female – lotsa women complain about their periods, but menstruation is an intrinsic part of being female and I’d want the total package. Otherwise, it seems like a lotta trouble and expense for less than all. The body I have is fine – it’s a good body. I’m healthy, able to do all the stuff I wanna do. Various women have told me that I’ve got better than satisfactory equipment. No problem. The women I tend to wanna be around are generally not the typical women in America – they tend to have hairy legs and armpits, to dress practically and to embrace both “male” and “female” activities and interests. That’s the kinda woman I’d wanna be. It’s just easier and simpler to keep the body I have. Also, I’d be an ugly woman.
But I really hate being treated like a “guy”. I hate the stereotype of what a “man” is at least as much as I hate the stereotype of what a “woman” is. I don’t want any of that shit. I was someplace recently – a big room with a coffee counter. There were a buncha women of various ages standing around talking. I was leaning against the counter and this man I’ve known for years walked over to me and said “Which one would you do?” I was kinda stunned because he’s a college professor and I wouldn’t’ve expected that, which is kinda stupid on my part. I mumbled something about how I wouldn’t want any of ’em. It was awkward and weird. I guess I could’ve called him out – that’s popular with the kids these days. I get called out often enough for failing to toe the PC line. But I didn’t call him out because our relationship does not include that. I didn’t want to call him out. In retrospect, I see that I wasn’t clear that his question made me uncomfortable, but that’s how it goes. Sometimes I’m surprised and don’t know how to respond in the moment. Point is, I don’t want to be included in that kinda shit. I already knew that me and him ain’t gonna hang out, so it don’t matter much to me.
So. What? What do I do with all that? I don’t wanna shave my beard or wear make-up. I’m happier single and celibate than I ever was when I was in relationships with women. I wear a skirt around the house sometimes ’cause it’s comfortable, but I need pockets when I go out. I’ve got some yoga pants a friend gave me – they’re really comfy if I shift the front way over to one side – I wear them under regular pants when it’s cold. I don’t care about pronouns, which are a linguistic convenience and not reflective of my inner being. And I really don’t want to explain a buncha personal shit to anybody. That’s a big ol’ chunk of it – I really have no fuggin’ interest in explaining to anyfugginbody that I am, despite all appearances, a butch woman. Unless/until I’m thinkin’ ’bout getting into some deep romance with somebody, it ain’t nobody’s bizness. And that ain’t gonna happen unless/until God taps me on the shoulder and says “Hey, I am the Lord, your God, and I want you to get with this woman, this one, right here” because I ain’t doing it otherwise.
Coming out as a trans-woman in this format is safe and easy. Nobody reads this and if’n they did, it ain’t my real name. I dunno what to do with it. I do know that I’m doing the level best I can to do God’s will and I do know that God understands that I am a fallible and completely screwed up individual in a completely screwed up world of sin. So however this works out, I’m fine with God.
Maybe I’ll do LGBTQ+ Arts’n’Crafts Bible study on Tuesdays.