Transition Can be Such a Bitch

As we have recently discussed around here in Cyrsti's Condo, often a gender transition is a peak and valley experience. In my case, the climb out of the valley of gender dysphoria was long and often painful. Quite possibly one of the top two or three people who have followed or been around me over the years has been Connie. I can't quite remember the transgender discussion site we met on so many years ago. I just remember Connie's sharp wit and sarcasm when she "discussed" a topic with one of the many "trans nazi's" who tried to rule the site. These were the days before being "transer than you" became fairly well known. Back in those days, many transgender women thought the amount of operations you had endured made them an entitled class of people within the community.

I remember well, engaging in many not so pleasant discussions with the ultimate...a transphobic trans woman. I remember also making a conscious effort  trying to mold my emerging new person in a different direction, away from being a bitch.  In a recent comment, Connie was kind enough to mention my efforts. And in a new comment mentions it again. Plus builds upon it:
Connie with her "realtor pose"

And, here, I was hoping you would have, first, picked up on my comment about how you could be such a bitch before transition. :-) I did say that I was willing" to give up my male privilege. I can't say that I totally lost it by transitioning, however. Nor will I ever be able to enjoy the totality of the privilege of being a woman. In a sense, we end up in No Man's/No Woman's Land. We bring with us all that our male privilege had gotten us before, and we try to immerse ourselves in womanhood with hopes that we will be granted some privilege that comes with that. Symbolically, a man can open a door to a world of privilege, while a woman may just wait for a man to open the door for her, so that she can enter one room. Of course, it's much more complicated than only that, but having lived with the privilege of a man's world gives us a unique perspective.

I've thought that the old joke about a man refusing to ask for directions kind of sums it all up. The picture that plays in my mind has a man and a woman in a '57 Thunderbird, top off, stopped at one of those old gas stations along a deserted highway. The man is in the driver's seat, of course, and it's probably out of dumb luck that he came across this gas station with only a mile's-worth of gas left in the tank. He's lost, but he won't admit it, and the woman is frantically studying a road map - which the man assumes she can't read. In fact, he's even annoyed that she opened the map, in the first place, because he thinks she won't be able to re-fold it properly when she's done with it. As the attendant is replacing the pump handle, the woman is saying, under her breath, "Ask him, just ask him!" The man hands the attendant a five dollar bill (more than enough to fill the tank of a '57 Thunderbird in those days) and, while the attendant is fumbling in his pocket for the change, the woman, pointing to a spot on the map, blurts out, "How do we get HERE?" As the man sits in silent embarrassment, the attendant takes a quick look at her map, and then drawls out, "Well, y'all can't get there from here." No Man's/No Woman's Land."

Excellent! You have come a long way too my friend!


  1. I was a spectator to you and Connie on that site many moons ago . . . .

    1. We had quite an exchange of emails between us, too, Marcia! Nobody makes it through all of this alone.

  2. So, the pic you chose was taken about eleven years ago. It was that very day that I came out, in person, to a woman friend. It was the first time anyone from my past life had met me as Connie (other than my wife). My friend had no idea of what she was about to see, when she stopped by my house on her way home from work. It went well, but I decided, afterward, that I would never surprise another like that again. I realized that it wasn't really fair to the other person, as it can put them on the spot. Then, it took another three years to come out to most everyone else - except most of my in-laws (about 100 of them, if you count cousins and such). The word had spread, though, so it was just a matter of making a gender reveal, of sorts, at a (very) large family gathering, in 2014.

    I don't remember exactly when we first met on that (pastel color) site, but, with all the back-and-forth yapping we did, I can't believe we waited so long to finally take action. I look at that pic of myself, and I see that I was beyond ready to transition at that time. I may not be as young, and less wrinkly and saggy as I was, but I'm still every bit the smartass. Sarcasm is not limited by gender! ;-)

    BTW, in my story, I was both of the people in the Thunderbird. I have had dreams, since my pre-teens, of being behind the wheel of a turquoise '57 T-Bird. I'm in a cute halter top that is tied at the midriff to show my skinny waist, my natural long blonde hair covered by a silk scarf, with big sunglasses and red lipstick on. Oh, and I can't forget the perfectly manicured and painted fingernails, as my lovely hands are resting on top of the steering wheel. Too late now; I can't get there from here, either.


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