I’ve been staying away from Trans topics for the most part mainly because I’m not sure who reads my blog anymore: I no longer really care about my stats so I don’t obsessively check them. I’m definitely not worried about random people reading my blog; I’m more worried that one of my family members will find me through Google or some other random act. Once in awhile, I’ve gone out and posted something trans-related, this being the most recent. When that happens, I hope and pray to God or some other Higher Power, that my family doesn’t read it.
Let me make it clear that I am not ashamed of who I am. I’m very proud to be transgender. Aside from my sisters, and the relatives I have on Facebook, no one in my family knows that I’m transgender. Sure, I’ve told my parents, but their reaction was disappointing and it would have broken my heart if I were closer to them. The thing is though, while I’m not close with them, they are still my parents. On top of that, I’m not sure how the rest of my family would react. Really, I could care less if they decided not to talk to me because I’m trans; it’s their loss and I don’t want to be associated with narrow-minded people anyway.
The thought of continuing my trans video series has been on my mind lately and I almost made one last night. Why didn’t I? I don’t know. I could have just as easily recorded a video of this post instead of writing it. I suppose the thought of my family seeing me in a video, talking about trans topics, freaks me out more than them reading it; they can’t see my face as I write, or as they read, and to me, there is a difference. I guess as long as I’m hiding behind words on a screen, they can’t really know that it’s me.
Most of the mail that arrives at my house is posted to either J or Josh. It’s very rare that I receive anything with Jess on it. Mandy, who sends me stuff at least once a month, started addressing it to J once I moved back home, knowing that if my parents saw Josh, they would flip. Most of the letters I have start with “Dear Josh” or some such variation and I keep them in my room; sometimes out in plain sight, sometimes sort of hidden. I have books about trans issues stuffed in my bookshelf and strewn about on my dresser. I don’t hide them, they are books, and the thought of hiding any book makes me a bit sick. If I had a book filled with nothing but porn, I would still leave it out in plain sight. And so, it doesn’t surprise me that people would get curious about these things and feel like they just had to look at them.
I draw the line, however, when people snoop around my things and feel the need to share with everyone they can talk to. I think it would have been less unsettling had I had a drug stash and that’s what they found. But no, these were letters, books, and other things that were mine, were personal, and have the possibility to deeply damage the relationships I’ve built with my family, or at the very least, what resembles a relationship.
What disturbs me more is the fact that some people, in my own family, either do, or would, view me as a freak. Of course, my family is an excellent example of what “normal” is so they would know a freak when they saw one. What also disturbs me is that my family cares more about what other people, outside the family, would think if word were to get out that I’m trans. Wow, my parents were horrible parents because I want to have gender reassignment surgery. Maybe they tortured me as a child, deprived me of food, locked me in a closet, tied me to my bed and wouldn’t let me out. Maybe that’s why I am trans. Or maybe, and I’m going out on a limb here, I was born this way, through no fault of my own, or my parents, or anyone related to me, or anyone not related to me.
It’s hard for me to really put myself in my parents shoes though. If my child told me that they were transgender, I would support them no matter what. So when my parents reacted with “We will disown you” I was a bit shocked and confused. But I’m your child! You gave birth to me! This just happens to be who I am. But then I’m also reminded that telling your parents that the daughter they thought they had is really a son, is really confusing for them too. I can’t really imagine what they felt like, what they thought, when I told them. Maybe they were mad, but maybe they were more confused about the whole thing.
I bring this up now because I know that even though I’m sure they know that something is going on, especially since someone left all of my trans things laying out downstairs, I know that I’m going to have to tell them, again, sooner or later. In this case, it’s going to be relatively soon. I’m not sure how they will react a second time around. They’ve had five years to think about this now, if they’ve even been thinking about this at all, so that time might have made them realize certain things. Like how I’m going to do this no matter what because this is who I am. Maybe they’ll react the same way as before. I’m not sure.
Figuring out how to tell them is what really eats me up these days. I’m not sure that I’d be able to keep my cool if they were to have the same reaction as before if I told them in person. I was thinking of writing a letter, but I don’t want to bitch out on this. It’s important that they realize that this is what I want, what I need, because it’s who I am. This is not something that someone forced me into, or the internet influenced me. It’s not something that came about because I don’t attend church. This is something that I’ve known since I can remember. There is no right answer here. No matter how I tell them, I’m going to tell them. They’ll have the same reaction whether they listen to me or they read what I have to say.
I guess my only hesitation in this is that while I know I can handle not having them in my life, if it comes to that, I’m not sure I want to let them go. But I’ve known that this was something I would have to do on my own for awhile now and I’ve been preparing for it. I’m strong enough now that I can do this on my own.