Butch Comforts

I just got finished with what I would call a very enjoyably masculine afternoon. After a slow morning of research and snuggling the cat, I did the following.

• Lifted weights plus 200 sit ups.  Sit ups always feel amazing, no matter how hard the last set is.  Today was the first day I was back to being able to bang out multiple sets of 50.
• Got showered and did the weekly facial shave. The hair above my lip is getting darker, so going more than a week without shaving my face makes me self-conscious… and shaving much more often than once a week makes me break out often.  I threw on jeans, a white tshirt, and a zip up hoodie to relax the rest of the afternoon.
• Went to Home Depot.  Oh, how cliché of me.  When I was under the hood of my ’99 Corolla replacing the spark plug wires to fix cylinder misfirings, I noticed that the terminals of my battery had quite a bit of acid leak/corrosion on them… and as we’re approaching the chilly winter months I want to get every ounce of crank out of my battery on zero degree days. So I needed a small wire brush and figured I’d take some time to scope out prices on components for projects at the girlfriend’s soon-to-be house.
• Cleaned my car battery.  A couple mason jar’s worth of sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) and water, and the sulfuric acid (battery juice) was neutralized and washed away. Bye bye corrosion.  Checked to make sure the bolts weren’t rusted in place in case I do have to replace the battery this winter while wearing giant gloves, a face mask, and snow pants.  A nice older man was working on his ’87 Volvo wagon (that wouldn’t start), he came over and asked if I knew much about cars. I was honest and said that I didn’t know much, just some preventative maintenance and simple repairs… I also pointed to the repair manual for my car sitting on the backseat of my car.

I’m munching on pretzels and having a beer, relaxing.  I’ve played a little bit of guitar hero while the cat dutifully watched. It’s been a very comforting day.  Not the kind of comfort I had last weekend, where I essentially slept all day snuggled up with the girlfriend to recover from life, but the kind of comfort where I’m just relaxing being myself and living.

I’m still blown away by how difficult it was just living and being myself when I resisted transitioning.  I wanted to be masculine, but I was afraid to be a butch man. I had to stay in the butch woman role.  It didn’t fit, and I walked around like my shoes were 3 sizes too small.  There’s no settling for that anymore, I’m going to live comfortably and love it.

Real Good (Man)

It’s interesting, how sometimes I feel like I missed out on some crucial father/son moments- I taught myself to tie a tie, I’m figuring out shaving on my own, and there was never a pinewood derby car in our house.  Before you think that I was devoid of a proper education toward manhood, entertain this snippet a little further.

I joined my (for all intents and purposes) girlfriend when she had a house that she is looking at buying inspected.  It was the first time I had seen the house in person, but as the inspector reviewed the property and the faults (all relatively minor, thankfully), I noticed something (no, not that she introduced me as friend, which feels marginalizing but is an easier way to say “this is the guy I’m dating even though I’m a lesbian and no he’s not moving in”)… I could comfortably fix 80% of the things that he mentioned.

Despite being devoid of some special father/son moments, my youth was not devoid of a masculine connection.  Both of my parents were always encouraging of me to take things apart, play with my tools (I seriously don’t remember ever not having my own tool box), and be a significant part of home improvement project.  At the end of the inspection, while the faiapgirlfriend was breathing a huge sigh of relief that the house was in great shape while simultaneously dreading dealing with anything that involved tools, I was mentally going through the list of things that should be done and moving almost everything to the “I’ll take care of it asap” pile.

So, I’m a little proud of myself.  I wasn’t raised to be man, but I was raised to be me.  My tendency to enjoy home improvement is another shining example of how masculinity/lack of femininity shines beyond the borders of male/female.  My parents raised me to be a good person.  It just so happens that I’m turning out to be a real good man.

Chromosomal Discrimination

That’s essentially what health insurance companies do when they evaluate men’s claims for male chest reconstruction surgery.  Here’s how it spins down, at least for my health insurance company… you know, the one I love so much. Hmph.

Alas.  There are types of men that the insurance company sees differently- those who bear XX chromosomes and those who have the XY chromosome pair.  Both type of men can develop a chest with feminine-looking breasts at any point in their life from adolescence on.

In XY-men, this is termed “gynecomastia” and is not always easily treated.  Though extra fat deposits in all types of men result in enlargement of the chest, this is not what I’m discussing.  Gynecomastia is essentially enlarged growth of the mammary glands.  It’s not masculine.  This can be extremely distressing, especially for pubescent boys.  Generally, after treatment for a pathological cause for a term of 6 months, surgery is recommended.  This is all covered by insurance.

In XX-men, development of a feminine appearing chest is very common as they progress through adolescence.  However, obtaining coverage for the health care necessary to treat the enlarged chest is much more difficult.  The mammary glands will develop fully if not halted with hormone blockers during adolescence.  Instead of a simple 6 months of hormonal treatment being necessary prior to surgery, the demands are much sharper.  Generally, after 12 months of hormone treatment and 12 months of living in conflict with the feminine chest, surgery is covered by insurance.

Why the difference in coverage criteria for removal of feminine chest features?  Yes, the chromosomes of these two types of men are different.  However, both types of men naturally grow chests with enlarged mammary glands, a distinctly feminine quality.  Only those men without the XY chromosome pair are demanded to be mentally evaluated by two mental health professionals before they are allowed to remove the offending feminine features.  There is a 6 month time delay difference between the chromosomal sets before coverage of surgery, which doubles the waiting time for men with XX chromosomes.

So.

I’m a guy.  I have an average testosterone level for men. I wear boxer briefs.  I will be a great husband. I use the men’s restroom. I’m legally male.

The reason why my request for chest reconstruction surgery is delayed is because I have XX chromosomes.

Defining Gender

This is kind of rambly.  Sorry.  I’ve now entered an ~2month time where I’m writing essentially a masters thesis.

I get that there are hordes of people whose minds would be completely and thoroughly blown to know that there is a man walking among them with a vagina, two x chromosomes, and an affinity for dating queer-umbrella women.  I don’t care that they might misunderstand me, I don’t care that they might miss out on some of my favorite parts of who I am, I don’t care that they might be confused by my life- as long as they respect me as a person and we get to know each other for who we actually are.

I stumbled across this tweet by GenderFork: “I never want to be defined by my gender. Never. You define your gender. Your gender does not define you.”

It struck me because it’s true and especially applicable to my life.  There have been 2 major liberations from my transition. The first, being my decision to transition, to take the medical steps necessary to have a body that I am comfortable with.  The second, being my realization that a male identity, or any identity for that matter, should not give me a new set of rules to live by- but rather give me an opportunity to redraw for everyone what that kind of person is.

It’s been an interesting journey so far.  I’ve found that I actually like my isolated independence- how it forces me to reach out for emotional support while still allowing me to retain a large amount of autonomy.  This was particularly difficult when dealing with a really shitty summer, but I never know how strong I am until I weather stormy times.  I found that testosterone hasn’t changed my personality but it has certainly changed my attention span, learning style, and emotional response.  Most things I like about my body now didn’t even exist 9 months ago (with exception to my blond hair, blue eyes, and scars).  I’m still discovering how I want to keep my body- I started trimming the hair on my legs above the knee and I plan to keep my chest smooth… post surgery.  I don’t need to be able to grow facial hair to feel masculine.  I don’t need to walk around without my shirt on to feel masculine.  I don’t need a bulge in my pants to feel masculine. My idea of feeling more transitioned once I’ve had top surgery has been slashed, chopped, and diced.  My idea of feeling more transitioned in a steady relationship has been kicked in the crotch, smacked across the face, and doused in cold water.

I don’t know when I’m going to have top surgery, and it is probably the most devastating thing after surviving, and thriving, this last year.  I don’t know how to talk about it at this point, but I need to.

I do want a partner and a family, but I have too much going on in my life right now to do more than date and see where it goes in the following months.  I’m not undesirable, I’m not unwanted, I’m not withdrawn.  There is someone who I want to have a relationship with, but I know that all I can give mentally and emotionally right now is a day at a time.  The immediate past has been burned and the immediate future has me committed to my life as a grad student.

Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m offended when people question my maleness or the sexual orientation identity of my partners.  I know that it is the human curiosity kicking in when their narrow definition of genders and sexuality collides with my propensity to date queer-umbrella women, and I don’t fault them for that.  It’s the personal nature of my answer, well my genitals are …. and yes I’m a guy but …. and she is attracted to …., where I realize that it’s not really their business.  My gender, my relationships, any identity of my partners, are not less legitimate because you can’t understand them.  Maybe you don’t have to understand- quantum mechanics exists legitimately despite most people’s complete inability to understand it.  Respect.

It’s funny, because a year ago I was struggling to define who I was- I couldn’t even construct words to describe how undeniably male I felt, despite being stuck into a female body.  It was painful because I felt like my masculinity was compromised by my body, I could be as butch as I wanted but it always felt out of sync.  Now, I’ll just pick and choose my words… and let my life define what they mean.

So watch out world, this (educated, dyke, masculine, queer, nerd, heterosexual, handsome, cute, strong, cuddly, compassionate, flamboyant, awkward, butch) man is walking among you.

I’d hope that anyone who lives with dysphoria finds that first liberation and decides that getting a body that they would be comfortable living in is worth it.  I hope that everyone, regardless of gender, orientation, social status, eventually grows to know that they don’t need to be defined by any labels.

Drag Show, August 2010

Just the Way You Are, Bruno Mars

Oh, her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they’re not shining
Her hair, her hair, falls perfectly without her trying
She’s so beautiful, and I tell her every day

Yeah, I know, I know, when I compliment her she won’t believe me
And it’s so, it’s so, sad to think that she don’t see what I see
But every time she asks me do I look ok, I say

When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change
Because you’re amazing, just the way you are
And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while
Because girl you’re amazing, just the way you are

Her lips, her lips, I could kiss them all day if she let me
Her laugh, her laugh, she hates but I think it’s so sexy
She’s so beautiful, and I tell her every day
Oh, you know, you know, you know, I’d never ask you to change
If perfect’s what you’re searching for then just stay the same

So, don’t even bother asking if you look ok
Girl you’re amazing, just the way you are
When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change
Because you’re amazing, just the way you are
And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while
Because girl you’re amazing, just the way you are.

Whataya Want From Me, Adam Lambert

Hey, slow it down whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Yeah I’m afraid whataya want from me
Whataya want from me

There might have been a time
And I would give myself away
Oooh once upon a time I didn’t give a damn
But now, here we are so whataya want from me
Whataya want from me

Just don’t give up I’m workin it out
Please don’t give in, I won’t let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Whataya want from me

Yeah, it’s plain to see
that baby you’re beautiful
And it’s nothing wrong with you
It’s me, I’m a freak
but thanks for lovin’ me
Cause you’re doing it perfectly

There might have been a time
When I would let you slip away
I wouldn’t even try
But I think you could save my life

Just don’t give up I’m workin’ it out
Please don’t give in, I won’t let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep comin around
Hey, whataya want from me

I could probably say a few words about the drag show again, but I think these video stills speak to not only how much I enjoyed performing again- but also where I am with my life right now.

My Masculinizing Body

I’ve expressed myself as a butch person, I’ve been masculine, for years and years.

Just as puberty brought on an onslaught of estrogen- hips, breasts, menstruation- all extensions of the female body I had through childhood… puberty also brought on the exploration of butchness- baggy jeans, ties, swagger- all extensions of the tomboy role I had through childhood. I wasn’t sure what to do with the physical changes and buried them in my expressions of masculinity.

Now, 5 months on testosterone at 50mg/week, I complement my physical changes with my expressions of masculinity… and vice versa.  My hips have given way to broadening shoulders, my breasts are disappearing into pecs, and I haven’t had a period now that my ovaries are hibernating indefinitely.  I recognize my voice, deep and strong, like I recognize my swaggering stride reflecting in shop-front windows.  It feels great to work out and stay fit, it matches my desire to be tough and stable protector. My hands feel more sturdy, but it might be the increased confidence I have in my motions. I feel like I will be able to give my partner more love than I ever imagined before, because I know more of myself and what I’m capable of. I am optimistic beyond day to day trials because I know that changes take more than a day, and it’s worth waiting for the things you hope and pray for. This second puberty is rewarding beyond my words.

I’ve been masculine for years and years.  My body expresses itself as male, now, because of the testosterone.

Five Foot Three

I’ve always been a little insecure about my height.  I think there are very few people in the shorter minority that aren’t painfully aware of the difficulty in reaching items on high shelves or finding someone in a crowd- but I also have a good list of the advantages, such as not being uncomfortable in coach on an airplane or rarely hitting your head on “low” hanging objects.  This insecurity was rooted in my masculinity, not necessarily my male identity, and had existed for years before my transition.  When people ask me if I date women that are taller than me I laugh (like there are any other options) and explain that I just like to be able to pick them up.  While my height might be something I can get touchy about, it certainly doesn’t stop me from doing anything.

Needless to say, it did feel really good when people started swearing up and down that they thought I had gotten taller since I started T.  People started noticing about 3 months on T, and I finally did something about it this morning before having my blood drawn for my 5-month check up appointment.  I asked the nurse to measure me.

I’ve heard rumors about someone who knows someone that grew a little once on T, but I don’t think I ever saw an increase in height listed as an effect of testosterone in someone who is no longer in puberty. I didn’t expect to grow at all, I didn’t even hope for it because I figured it was completely out of the question.  Am I going to complain that I seem to have picked up 1-2 inches over the last 19 weeks?  Absolutely not.

Some explanations for transmen gaining in height is an improved posture that comes from no longer hiding their chests post-surgery… but as we’re all painfully aware, I haven’t had surgery yet. Men are biologically taller than females on average, so it would make sense that testosterone would contribute to the height discrepancy, but as I mentioned before this doesn’t generally make a difference post-puberty.

There are devices (shoe lifts) that can be placed inside the shoe to add an inch or two to someone’s height, and I never even considered them- it wasn’t worth changing the way I live my life or putting money in when I never had trouble living when I was shorter.  I’ve heard many pro and con arguments to these devices, and without being judgmental to other people- I’m going to say that I’ve found that my insecurities about being short were rooted more in my lack of faith in myself in other aspects of life such as being a protector or a partner.  Working those things out made my height more of an inconvenience at times than a constant disadvantage.

I know that my situation is fairly rare, that a transmale gains height from testosterone injections- but I’m honestly kind of excited about it.  Sort of like I won a lottery I didn’t even know I had been entered into.

4 Months on T! Really!?! Yes.

Time flies when you’re having fun.  When you’re having the time of your life… it can seem like the blink of an eye.

I remember having hot flashes for about 2 months.  I remember my voice cracking terribly as it dropped pretty quickly for a while.  I remember starting to consistently pass.  I remember the first time my girlfriend-person telling me that I really looked like a guy.  I remember my stepmom noticing the overall changes by skype and telling me that I looked good. I remember putting on my 997 binder for the first time and starting to cry. I remember the judge telling me my petition to be Drew Ezekiel, male, would certainly be approved. I remember going to the grocery store and having to double the amounts of things that I buy because my appetite increased so much.  I remember my first shot.

I barely remember having scrawnier arms.  I barely remember what my voice used to sound like.  I barely remember not sweating excessively. I barely remember meeting people and having to navigate communicating “I’m a guy” awkwardly.  I barely remember not knowing if I could be a good partner for someone.  I barely remember being confused about a menagerie of emotions that kept me living in fear.  I barely remember being afraid of giving myself my shot. I barely remember the feeling of hopelessness that I had when I didn’t know if I would be strong enough to transition.

Now…

• my hands are bigger/stronger
• my feet are wider
• my shoulders are wider, arms larger with more masculine definition
• hips and waist have narrowed
• face is much oilier, and the summer has made it worse… along with the acne
• face grows stubble with my sideburns definitively dropping slowly
• hair on my lower legs is much more dense, actually growing visible hair on upper legs and a happy trail for the first time in my life
• actually have hair on my hands, but its blond like the hair on my head
• my voice dropped… a lot faster than I expected it to.  especially my singing voice, which also dropped further than I expected too. probably still one of my favorite changes.
• I eat everything.  I get hungry all the time.  I feel sick if I don’t eat when I’m hungry.
• tastebuds adjusted fairly immediately to enjoy a wider range of foods
• desire to show affection to animals isn’t quite as strong
• playing sports makes me sexually aggressive
• besides a brief 3 hour stint, no periods since I started T
• don’t cry nearly as often as I did before- I’ve cried a grand total of 3 times since I start T
• I can’t concentrate as well as I used to. I jump from task to task if I’m not careful.
• my sex drive went up, and the best way to keep it manageable is to work out
• emotionally I am positive, where it takes a lot to get me angry or flustered and at the same time it’s easy for me to find things to be happy about
• I pass… a lot.  I can’t think of a pronounced time when I haven’t passed for at least a few weeks.

It’s sort of astounding to me, in this shock and awe way, how much testosterone has really changed my body to match my idea of myself.  I’m a masculine person, I tend to do butch things and I wear men’s clothes, and my body is undergoing this revolution where it is taking on more masculine traits- and I love it.

The best part about these changes is that they’re not climactic.  They don’t culminate my life into one moment, nothing is ending at this time, it’s not downhill from here. Everyday is a new day and my life is changed both for good and for the better.  I just downed 3 eggs and 4 slices of bacon, I’m going to do my shot, finish a report for work, and go play some softball.  Later I’ll have a few beers and play some pool.  Another good day, with many more to come.  I can’t wait to see what happens.

My Voice

Especially in the morning- it’s so different- deeper.  I love it.  Probably my favorite change from the T.

You know the scene in the Emporer’s New Groove when Yzma (the evil lady) gets turned into a cat, she cackles, and then is like “Is that MY voice?”  Every couple of days the first time I speak in the morning I have one of those moments, where I get this nice little surprise.

My voice does crack a lot later in the day (~10pm), especially after days where I’ve been talking loudly quite a bit (oh, teaching).  I have yet to figure out how to consistently yell and holler while playing softball without my voice sounding like a cat in a washing machine.

The change in my voice is making me a lot more confident when it comes to daily living, and that is a welcome relief.  My name change trial is in 1 week (Cinco de Mayo!) and I’m really excited- especially because I know when I need to talk I’ll sound… like myself.  Sounding like a guy is an expression of masculinity that I very much identify with.  Being able to speak strongly with a deeper voice is important to me because I am the type of person that is protective and supportive- I try to be a strong person in all aspects.

Drag

I performed in a local drag show during undergrad.  It was something I did for a bit of semesterly big fun- for one glorious evening I got to bind the chest that made me squirm, put on the clothes that made me feel the most handsome, tuck my hair into a hat, and not apologize to anyone for my masculinity.  I looked forward to this one night in drag all semester, even during the summers.  I loved dressing in drag so much that for one of my birthdays I wore drag to my dinner.

I wasn’t especially good at it, there wasn’t a community of kings or other gender benders for me to learn from, and my dancing skills are seriously sub-par- but, I did it for the high that I felt all night just wearing the clothes.  Picking a song that I could use to express myself further was just icing on the cake.

I’m so glad I performed in those drag shows, and I get all nostalgic thinking about it.  Would I go back to performing in drag shows?  Sure.  Do I feel like I’m aching for the next time I can perform?  Absolutely not.  I get to do my own drag performance every day as a part of revealing myself to the world.

I performed to Mambo No. 5 (several times), Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Sexy Back, and A Little Less Conversation. …I think there were others that I can’t remember at the moment…

Now on to the videos… warning: seriously awkward moments ahead.

Freshman year of undergrad (first show):

Senior Year of undergrad (last show):