Quick notes on non-cis life

Owning up to your past is almost impossible. Whatever you say will very likely be twisted into something unrecognizable that'll fit into cissexist conception of what you are.

Relating to cis people is highly complicated, as most cis people build their lives as mostly coherent, decades-long wholes; you've had two lives, one in closet, one in the open, and it's pretty hard to bring stuff from one to the other. Well, unless you're ok with being a freak and having yourself identified as one forever.

You don't really learn how to relate to the cis: in the beginning you have to lie both to other people and to yourself as convincingly as possible, in order to survive. How does one learn to relate to other people while doing that? One doesn't. You can stop the lie, but the years are permanently, forever gone. You don't get your childhood back. You don't get many of your formative years back - you just have to make do with what the lies and deceit gave you.

Yet stopping the lie is one of the most important things you can do.

Hanging out with the other, similarly marginalized people won't help much. Sure, they understand a lot, but what you've got in common with them is the trauma, the bile, the hate, the hurt. Who wants to center her life around that? Not me.

You might end up alone. It's still better than lying and deceit, and it's also better than wallowing in your trauma.

On becoming a mother

Well, my partner gave birth. That's about it. And I became a mother.

I didn't realise it back then, of course - being CAMAB does rob you of some things, such as the realisation that if you've got kids, you're a mom - female parents tend to be called that, regardless of whether the kids came out of their womb or someone else's.

But in the end I did realise that. I realised that other people see me as the mother of my kids, and it's ok with me. I certainly wouldn't want to be called their father; it'd be just too weird for me (it may very well be ok for you to be called a father even though you're a woman - be my guest. Just don't push it on me).

It's a right can of worms, of course; motherhood. My relationship to my mother is far from easy. She's not outwardly oppressive or anything, but she really doesn't see the kind of woman I am. I suspect she still sees me as a wee girl, a sexless child - which I most empathically am not. She just kinda ignores that. So it's not something I've wanted to imitate when raising my kids, and I hope (and feel) that I've done better by my children. They seem to be well-adjusted and decent people, and I hope it's just not my indulgent imagination. I'm quite proud of them, and I'm especially proud of the loving family we've managed to put up together, my partner, our children and I.

Happy mother's day to all of you mothers out there. And even if your own mother left a lot to be desired, hopefully you can mother yourself properly.

[ETA 18.5.2012: added clarifications]

Happy Christmas!

I'd like to say a word about incarnation, being a Christian and all. This (besides resurrection), is one of the neatest bits about Christianity to me. God became a human, was born out of a woman, was a baby, grew up, died - just like I will.

The God who knows me is no stranger. Ze incarnated into this world, and by becoming human, enabled me to become a God's daughter.

This is, now, of particular importance because I'm going through my past, hopefully finally expunging some demons of old. It's painful, and difficult to do it, but somehow it comforts me to know I'm not doing it alone. My suffering is God's suffering - Ze shares in it, and likely my suffering is part of Jesus' suffering on the cross. We're taking the sins of humans (and make no mistake, forcibly sexing and gendering other people is a sin) on our flesh and suffering because of them. It doesn't make us any better people - suffering doesn't make you better, it just hurts, maims and kills.

I know the preceding might not sound very happy to many people, but please give it some thought: I'm at my happiest when I'm present in this world, and suffering and pain are present here, now. There's a forceful happiness in knowing what you are and what's happening to you, even if it's painful and makes you suffer. See, the other option, for me, is not not suffering, but numbness. Not feeling anything, not being connected to anyone - not living, in fact. I prefer life very much to living death.

That God can, and does share in my life is a very happy occasion, and Christmas is the yearly happy reminder of that.  Happy Christmas!