My husband is a transman. Most of the time, it barely registers with me at all–it’s not an issue. Sometimes, though, I resent it intensely, because so much of our life is focused around his gender that mine is forgotten.
Biologically, I’m female, and we have a daughter who I birthed. I don’t feel like a woman, though, and certainly not a girl. Were it less charged, were my family less conservative, were my circumstances different, I would transition, maybe–but to what? I’m not sure that I feel like a man, either, nor a boy, but something entirely other, something that isolates and “others” me, even from those I love.
I’m told, sometimes, that I’m too angry. Angry about irrelevant things, angry about things that I can’t control. Of course I’m angry, though. Wouldn’t you be angry if you were wrong in ways that could never be made right? Wouldn’t you be angry and resentful if others who were wrong could be made right, however arduous the procedures?
Sometimes I think that my anger is just a way to avoid acknowledging how sad and alone I feel most of the time. I feel like my words are weightless and hollow, evaporating on my lips.
What do you identify with?