Tilly's Trans Tuesdays

CONFIDENCE 2: INTO THE UNKNOWN aka WHAT IS HAPPENING aka A WHOLE NEW WORLD

Welcome to #TransTuesday! This past weekend I got to do something as myself for the first time, something that used to give me a ton of anxiety and that I was very bad at. So here we go INTO THE UNKNOWN aka WHAT IS HAPPENING aka A WHOLE NEW WORLD.

A few primers so you can understand where I’m coming from. If you’re not familiar with GENDER DYSPHORIA, that’s the place to start.

It also ties in a lot with the first trans tuesday on CONFIDENCE, and why I never had any pre-transition, and then discovering that suddenly had some.

And it’s also part of A PANDEMIC TRANSITION, and the ways that has impacted me and the things I can or cannot do.

Okay, so what the heck happened? This past weekend a good friend who lives on the other side of the country was in town, and had a get together for all his friends who live in LA as he doesn’t get to see us very often.

We were meeting in an outdoor rooftop bar in Hollywood, and Susan and I felt safe enough, pandemic-wise, to attend (which is great, because we adore said friend and missed him last time he was in town).

But as the date approached I realized this was a place I’d never been before. And outside of our friend who was hosting, it was going to be entirely people I’d never met before. And I started to wonder… what the hell this was going to be like.

Because despite coming out publicly in the summer of 2020, I’ve not had this experience before. I’ve gone places as myself, obviously, but only to, like, the grocery store or the bank or the pharmacy or to pick up food from a restaurant.

Due to all the restrictions the panettone has placed on us, I have not gone somewhere I’ve never been before, that would basically be full of people I’d never met before, since actually becoming the real me.

Pre-transition, events like this filled me with dread. I was incredibly socially awkward, which in my naivete I’d chalked up to just being a super introverted nerd. In reality, though, just an absolutely massive portion of that was due to my dysphoria.

As mentioned in the Confidence thread, a lot of that dealt with not wanting to be perceived (even though deep down I always wanted to finally be seen as a real person), because I did not know how to properly act out the part of the cis man that society told me I was.

I was terrified I’d do something that would cause me to be spotted as a total fraud, and then I had no idea what would happen.

I mean, in reality, probably nothing, because who meets someone for the first time and comes away with the impression of “that person seems to be faking their gender?”

But that fear was the overriding thing pumping through my veins. And the kicker is I didn’t even know that’s what it was. I just knew I HATED new places, and new things, and new people, and the feeling was so awful I wanted to dig a hole to crawl into and never ever come out.

In just writing about it I can still feel that inside me now, the sense memory is so strong. Because it permeated every human interaction, every new place I went, FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE.

All while being in utter despair because deep down I wanted nothing more than to experience things as myself and be recognized AS MYSELF, even though I didn’t know who or what that was, and couldn’t have told you that was what I was feeling!

Gender dysphoria is an absolute butt.

So as the date of this get together drew closer, I started to get anxious. But I was surprised to discover that it was ENTIRELY DIFFERENT than all the anxiety I was familiar with in situations like these for my whole life.

This new anxiety was much more mild, and honestly maybe it wasn’t even anxiety. It was an intense curiosity, and okay there was maybe a little bit of fear mixed in, but this was… different. It was the opposite of what I’d felt every time before.

Because now I was afraid that someone there would clock me as trans (I don’t think I pass, I shouldn’t have to, and I can’t even figure out if I would want to outside of the safety of it). See the trans tuesday on MISGENDERING AND PASSING.

Not that I believed any of the people our friend had invited would be transphobic (though one never knows where/when/how these things will manifest), but it was a public location. There would be employees and other customers at the bar.

But mostly I just had zero idea what to expect. Everyone has these situations come up, but they’re probably for much bigger things, right? Starting a new job, traveling to a part of the country or world you’ve never been, things like that.

All I was doing was driving a few miles to meet a friend. But everything I’ve ever experienced in my life wasn’t me, it was me behind ten pounds of lead and buried under two tons of concrete, wearing a costume of a man that didn’t fit, playing a part I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) act.

And when all of that is removed, because I’m just there as… ME…

The world is entirely brand fucking new.

It helped to have Susan there with me, an anchor to the familiar and loved. It also doesn’t hurt I have no doubt she would completely fuck up anyone who gave me shit for being trans, because she’s amazing like that.

Related: cis folks, BE SURE the trans people in your life know you’ve always got their backs, and that you will not tolerate anyone fucking with them. It means the world just to know we’re not out there alone.

Anyway, I felt hyper-attuned to everything around me. The world was stunning in its beauty. The decorative lights wrapped around a tree. The vibrance of the sunset (which honestly was probably only a B- by Los Angeles standards) almost left me breathless.

Every color was deeper and more intricate, every sound and voice and feeling was amplified. I was seeing and hearing and feeling them all for the first time.

But unlike my first forays into the world as myself, where EVERYTHING felt overwhelming as I was still adjusting (I’ve talked about that before, but I’ve done so many of these I can’t remember in which one, so you’ll have to go digging if you want more on that)…

This wasn’t overwhelming at all. In fact, it was… hm, what’s the word. Life-affirming? Tantalizing? I wanted MORE. I still do. It’s like I have this little reservoir inside me that’s been mostly empty my whole life, and suddenly things started filling it up.

A very sweet and tipsy lady asked me to take a photo of her and her mom, who I think she was giving the full Hollywood tour to, and I didn’t feel like I wanted to run away screaming? I took several for them and we talked and it was… nice? How??

A waiter complimented my boots, and I thanked him and talked about how they were great if I needed to stomp someone’s ass in a sci-fi movie, and he laughed. We chatted a bit. YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW REVOLUTIONARY THIS WAS.

I didn’t have to force myself to. I… didn’t feel like hiding?? WHAT?? I didn’t stumble for things to say or not know what the right thing to do was, I just… interacted with him like a fellow human being.

Pre-transition, my response to him would have been a slight smile and nothing else, or maybe a quiet “thanks” as I looked away or pretended to get a text or that something off to the side just caught my attention, in the hopes he’d leave and stop talking to me.

And not because he was horrible or awful, but because *I* felt horrible and awful due to all the aforementioned bullshit gender dysphoria saddled me with. I’m sure a lot of people thought I was a bit rude because of that, but if that was the cost, so be it.

I mean I hated the thought of people thinking that way about me, or that it might have hurt their feelings, but I felt trapped and like there was nothing else I could do. And now that’s just gone.

IT’S

JUST

G O N E

Another thing that’s bugged me is that I have so few photos of myself with Susan. I mean we have tons of photos from our life together, but none of them are ME. PHOTOS AND REFLECTIONS were always tough for me, as they are for a lot of trans people.

And they’re part of how incredibly difficult and painful THE PAST can be, even the happiest memories I have.

So getting photos of ME with the woman I love most in this world is really important to me. But if we’re stuck at home because of the pantheon, that’s not really possible. Kinda weird to keep taking photos of us together on the couch, y’know?

Besides, we have so many old photos together from places we went and things we did, and I want more like those. I want REAL photos of that stuff. Of US.

I can’t get full-body shots at home because our apartment is too damned small, so Susan took this one. Someone ELSE took a photo of me. And while I don’t love it, I don’t hate it. It causes no dysphoria. It’s just an okay photo of ME out in the world! And I need those too.

Susan even made me lean over to get a photo with this owl. Why? Because it’s weird. And goofy. And so am I and I’m so glad she told me to, and I LOVE this photo. That someone ELSE took of me! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

Well I’m a fully-realized, self-actualized human being living HER life in the world for the first time, and it’s fucking magical. *I* hugged my friend for the first time, and not as the shell of a person buried inside a mountain and trapped by societal expectations.

I made some new friends. We had great discussions and I had… fun? Is that why people do this? You can… ENJOY new experiences and meeting people?

The world can be tremendously beautiful once you’re finally in it for real, friends. I’ve missed so much for so long. Do whatever it takes to get there. It’s more worth it than you can possibly imagine.

I want to dive head-first into the world and soak it up. The sheer beauty of it all, the cosmic dance of light and matter forged in the heart of stars and congregated here for all of us to experience together.

Here I am. And here I’ll stay.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com

CONFIDENCE

Welcome to #TransTuesday! There’s something that drastically changed for me, from pre-transition to now. And I think it holds true for the majority of trans people, if not all of us. So let’s talk about: CONFIDENCE.

All the way back when I was a wee little Tilly who did not yet know she was Tilly, I suffered from an incredibly strong and almost painful shyness. My mom always told me I was just shy and that’s all there was to it.

But then her preferred method of dealing with things was to never really probe beneath the surface, and being transgender is allllllllll about probing beneath the surface to find what’s really underneath, and why.

Now in addition to reminding you how I do not speak for all trans people or all trans women, I want to explicitly state that a lot of people ARE shy for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with being transgender.

I’m no psychologist, but it seems pretty clear it can be caused by any number of things, and some people are probably very happy and content to be shy and that’s all wonderful. But I’m trying to figure out why I specifically was shy, which ties into my trans-ness.

My earliest memory of being shy was being in my mom’s arms… I don’t know how old I was, but I must have been small for her to be carrying me still. We were outside, I think at a relative’s house, and she was talking to the lady who lived next door.

And this lady was just ENAMORED with my eyelashes, because they were so long and she kept saying how she wished she had eyelashes like that and jokingly asked if she could steal them. And lemme tell you yes, they ARE very long, and you should be jealous 😌

But I kept turning away from her, burying my head in my mom’s shoulder. I didn’t want to look at her. I have this intense memory of just wishing she’d stop talking to me and stop looking at me. And she wasn’t being mean or cruel, I just… could not stand the attention.

And that feeling followed me my entire life, and never left. Until it did. After I transitioned.

I’m much, MUCH more open and willing to talk and not just sit in silence. Because I’m more comfortable in my own body now, and don’t have that layer of having to pretend to be someone I’m not blocking me from the world.

Which is ironic, because now that some certain men are seeing me as a woman (hooray!) they’re instantly interrupting and talking over me and/or repeating something I just said as if it were their own idea (c’mon dudes, really?).

It’s good they actually see me as a woman… enough to treat me in the sexist way they treat all other women, I guess? A mixed bag!

If you want to see my newfound confidence in action, see this Trans Tuesday’s follow-up, CONFIDENCE 2: INTO THE UNKNOWN aka A WHOLE NEW WORLD aka WHAT IS HAPPENING, when I got to truly experience the world as myself and was surprised to discover what a different experience it was.

What’s very important for you to understand at this point is how difficult it was for me to deal with not wanting to be seen for my entire life, pre-transition. High school speech class was a nightmare. Family parties were torturous. Even FRIENDS’ parties were torturous.

I WANTED to go. Because these are people I care about very much! And yet I’d get there and hide in a corner and feel mostly miserable, and I can feel it welling up inside me now, that exact same feeling. The sense memory is so strong.

As an aside, this is something that DIRECTLY shows up in The Matrix, and I wrote a whole book about those films’ trans allegories called BEGIN TRANSMISSION and you prolly already know that but I’m never gonna shut up about it. Get your copy today!

But I was constantly on edge. If someone I didn’t already know talked to me OH GOD I’d have to respond and I didn’t know how or what to say, and what if I gave something away (to both them and myself) about my true self and then I was exposed for the world to see?!

It was harrowing. And what I want you to take from this is if before I transitioned, we’ve ever met, worked together, had lunch, or even moreso, become actual friends… I had to work through ALL of that, constantly fighting dysphoria and myself because I thought you were worth it.

The first time I met Susan (in person), I drove 300 miles to where she was going to college… we met online writing Star Trek fanfiction and YES if you know us that’s probably not surprising.

When I got there, I drove around her dorm like two or three times. There was plenty of parking, mind you. But my heart was jumping out of my chest. I couldn’t even think clearly. And yes, part of this is that we’d already been talking for months and I knew I loved her.

It wasn’t even rejection I was worried about, she was very excited to see me. But I didn’t know if I could handle it in person, again because of the huge wall between me and the world around me. And I never wanted ANYONE to break through that wall as much as her.

For more on how GENDER DYSPHORIA kept me from people and the world for my entire life, see the trans tuesday thread on it.

And you can see FREEING UP MY BRAIN aka LUNCH WITH TILLY for more on how the entire world opened up to me once dysphoria dissipated.

But you can ALSO see the trans tuesday on TRANSPHOBIA IS ALWAYS WITH US (that old dysphoric feeling) for ways in which, even now, anything remotely similar to old dysphoric experiences can bring back the dysphoria sense memory and cause problems.

So after I parked at her dorm, I was shaking as I walked over. She was on her way down and I was just going to leap out of my own skin, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

But I fought through it, stabbed my flight response right in the face, because she was worth it to me. And to everyone out there I had any kind of relationship with prior to coming out, you were important enough for me to fight through the fear, too.

But there’s more to this whole not wanting to be seen thing. I had the remarkably bad luck my entire life to be the one who was always forgotten. It wasn’t really bad luck though, because that’d be a weird thing to follow me around all my life without some kind of concrete cause.

I was picked last for every game/sport/competition/ANYTHING through all of school. And listen, I certainly wasn’t the best at everything, but I was pretty damn good at a lot of things! Didn’t matter. Almost always last.

And a lot of times it wasn’t intentional, they’d just… forget I was there. Even in organized little league! (when my step-dad wasn’t the coach, anyway) “Oh, you didn’t get a team? Huh.”

When I was probably around 10 years old I went on a fishing trip with my friend’s church. The adults helped make sure every kid caught a fish. Except for one.

Guess who they forgot?

I’d be the person at restaurants that the server just forgot to ever bring food for. Once in high school I went to a fast food place with friends, and they all got their food, sat down, and finished eating before I’d even gotten mine.

I was just standing there at the counter, waiting. Everyone ignored me. EVERYONE.

Yes, I could have just spoken up and politely asked if my order was coming soon, but then the shyness would hit because THEN THEY’D BE LOOKING AT ME AND TALKING TO ME and I’d have to put the facade up and figure out how to navigate it.

And again, even something as simple as that terrified me and made me want to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of my life.

But in my long journey of self-discovery, I realized that the reason I was always forgotten is because I’d learned to adapt to my inability to cope with being seen by finding ways to make myself as small as possible.

And I don’t mean only physically, though that was certainly part of it too. If I slouched and half-hid behind a wall, or sat alone in the corner, if I didn’t make eye contact… people would ignore me and I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Usually I didn’t even realize I was doing it. It was a subconscious coping mechanism I’d developed to protect me from the awful feelings every interaction would bubble up inside me.

But the paradox is it KILLED me to not be seen. I WANTED to be seen, as myself, so very badly. But at the same time OH GOD DON’T LOOK AT ME OR TALK TO ME OR I HAVE TO PLAY CISGENDER MAN AGAIN.

And to not even know that that’s what the feeling was, or why I was feeling it, added an extra layer of confusion and awfulness on top of everything. I didn’t know why I was like that, and I wished so hard that I wasn’t. But had no idea what to do about it.

It was such an awful spot to find myself in, wanting people to get close but not knowing how to let them. I was actively keeping myself from forming close friendships (or making it exponentially harder on myself), and they were what I craved so much.

It’s such a lonely, isolating experience. Again, I did have friends as a kid, and I do now (and again, please know how important you are to me that I fought through all that for you). But that wall was always there, and I was alone on the inside.

It’s like there’s a void inside you, but also all around you! It’s so difficult to explain. It was horrible to experience, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

But I don’t feel afraid to talk to people anymore, because I don’t have to hide anything. I’m just… me. It actually EXCITES me. I look forward to it. A lot! And that is such a weird feeling that I don’t really know how to process.

And I noticed something else that ties in with all of this, too. It’s a small thing, but it is ABSOLUTELY a symptom of this entire thing with not wanting to be seen, and not having any confidence at all, and the ways that’s all changed now.

I never, ever signed my emails with my name if I could avoid it. I used a couple weird nicknames at first, and okay that probably makes sense, tying in to how my old name wasn’t me and gave me bad feelings.

But shortly thereafter it evolved into only this:

-j

That was it. I could live with that. ANY of you who received emails from me pre-transition, go look. 95% chance that’s at the bottom of them. I can see you nodding from here.

Once, someone asked me why I used j instead of J. Well hey, good question. Why WOULD I?

I didn’t have an answer, other than the J felt… pretentious. Why the HECK would the capitalized letter of my first name, which actually SHOULD be capitalized, feel pretentious for me to use?

Because I felt I didn’t deserve it. Because that wasn’t me. And again, not every way of making myself smaller and less noticeable in the world was physical.

So I went with the lower case version, because that felt closer to “me” than the capital.

But, uh… look, sometimes this stuff is so obvious it’s kind of embarrassing you never saw it before. And if you’d like to see an EXTRA embarrassing way this happened, check out the trans tuesday on THE SIGNS WERE ALWAYS THERE (that we were trans).

So hey friends, if you have recent emails from me, post-coming out, go see how I signed them. For the rest of you, here we go.

Are you ready? Sure you are. We all know what’s coming.

I immediately changed to signing them:

-T

That was entirely subconscious, I assure you. I didn’t INTEND to do it, it just happened. Almost immediately!

I’m taking up space in the world. You can see me.

PLEASE SEE ME.

It’s been so long alone. Hi, hello, I adore you and you mean the world to me. 💜

And I’m deserving of the space I take up in the world… and a capital first letter of my real name, just like everyone else.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com

PART 2 is here!

COMPLIMENTS

Welcome to #TransTuesday! This week we’re discussing something I never anticipated but was absolutely delighted to discover after transition. It’s another way a whole new part of life opened up for me. So let’s talk about COMPLIMENTS.

There’s two sides to this, and both are actually an unexpected BENEFIT to being out as trans, that I’d never realized would be a thing. So for my entire life, I’ve dug ladies. I don’t mean that I’m attracted to them (though I am), but just… as a concept.

You can see the way this complicated discovering my own transness in the Trans Tuesday on DISENTANGLING SEXUALITY FROM TRANSNESS.

So! Ladies, am I right? The hair, the clothes, I love all of it. And yes, okay, sure, like I said there were maybe some… SIGNS that I was trans that I was missing my whole life. In fact, you can see the Trans Tuesday on THE SIGNS WERE ALWAYS THERE.

I also feel there is actual, real, important value in men being able to appreciate those things too. Well, without thinking that makes them gay or somehow weak, and all that horrid toxic masculinity bullshit, anyway.

But even before I had a name for toxic masculinity, all those years I spent presenting as (and thinking I was) a man, I thought there was nothing wrong with my appreciation of that stuff. And I was correct, there IS nothing wrong with men appreciating that stuff. AT ALL.

HOWEVER, I always felt… I don’t know, stymied? restrained? in expressing that appreciation. As a kid, it’s because your peers (and possibly parents) immediately labeled you gay and an outcast. And of course there’s nothing wrong with being gay, even if it were true.

I mean I AM gay, but I’m a gay woman. Not a gay man. But all kinds of gay are good! Increase the gayness in your life, Try Gay Today!

But for a very nerdy, awkward kid uncomfortable in her own body for her entire life, the last thing I wanted was to be MORE outcast than I already was. So I just kept my trap shut about girly stuff I liked. Repression and ostracization forces people into the closet, y’know.

As an adult, it didn’t take me long to learn that all too often (and the ladies out there can already see this coming), compliments on anything like clothing or hair or makeup or… ANYTHING coming from a (seemingly) cis man is something else entirely.

Because of course it usually means they’re sexually attracted to you or want something from you, or might soon harass you, or worse. I mean it’s basically the same thing as men whistling and yelling at women on the street. It’s awful and needs to stop.

And there was absolutely NO WAY I was going to be someone who contributed to that. Even if my intentions were just to say I really liked their dress or thought their hair looked amazing, I’d just keep it to myself (or talk about it with Susan).

Because there was no way for any woman I was talking to to be aware of my intentions. And if I tried to explain that it’d just come off weird and I’d seem like even more of a creeper.

And I don’t know if I realized that because I’m trans and always have been, or if I was just actually keenly aware of how a lot of cis men treat women (which, again, I suppose I could have been more aware of as I’m a woman, even when I didn’t consciously know it yet).

I’d like to think it’s because I try to be aware of people and their feelings, and the last thing I ever want to do is make someone uncomfortable or upset (am I kind or just… midwestern? I sincerely hope it’s the former but… you can’t take the midwest out of me, either. Ope!).

But I knew the comfort of the woman I wanted to compliment was more important than her knowing some random (apparent) guy thought her eye shadow looked amazing. So to the cis guys reading, if you haven’t figured that out yet, please heed these words:

A woman feeling safe is more important than your need to tell her how pretty you think she is, or how sexy her voice is, or how much you like her clothes or hair or anything else. Really. Don’t force your thoughts on random women. I promise you we don’t care.

This carried over for me even with my lady friends. I might venture to say I liked their shirt or something, but usually only if it had something geeky on it I was a fan of that we could then talk about. Outside of that, I just couldn’t. I was terrified of upsetting them.

ONCE while waiting to pick Susan up from work, I waved to a friend that walked by, and noticed her boots were just amazing. Just like fucking amazing, I’m telling you. And I dug them so much I texted to let her know that I thought they were great.

And then instantly chastised myself for it and was terrified it’d make her feel awkward or unsafe or any number of other things, despite us actually being very good friends. She replied and thanked me and all was well.

But that was enough to confirm for me I should never, ever do it again. It just wasn’t worth the risk. But now… now my friends know I’m not a dude, and don’t see me as one, and so… maybe it’s okay?

I still don’t think I’d compliment a total stranger on something, especially given I don’t exactly pass for a cis woman (passing is a whole other post for… another time), and you never know how someone’s going to react to trans folks.

But that’s entirely flipped the script, because now I’m worried for MY safety if I try to compliment them on something, especially given the (entirely bogus, made up, and completely unsubstantiated) view that the right wing peddles that trans women are all sex criminals.

Anyway eventually I felt comfortable enough to tell a lady I’ve been friends with for many years that she looked cute in a photo she posted. Another lady friend posted a pic from her wedding, and frankly she looked fucking amazing, and I told her so.

Neither of them felt uncomfortable with me doing so. It just seemed like it was maybe… fine? And an okay thing to do?

And honestly that’s something I never could have expected or even hoped for. And I’m thrilled. I love making other people happy, or being able to bring someone a smile, or letting people know I think they’re absolutely killing it at what they do.

And I’m not shy about that with their work, like art they create or stories they write or anything like that. But now I also feel I can maybe tell them if I think their hair looks amazing today or they look great in that photo they’re not sure about.

Annnnnd that’s a side-effect I never considered, but I’m so glad to find it’s happened. It feels like I can connect with friends who are ladies on a level I couldn’t before.

When you’ve spent most of your life feeling like you were drowning and cut off from everyone around you in the world, any level of connection feels extra special.

The other side of the compliment coin is that pre-transition, whenever *I* got complimented on anything having to do with my appearance or what have you… I couldn’t run away fast enough.

And it’s not just compliments in general, because if you compliment Susan’s and my writing, well, you are right to do so and I will thank you very much! (listen, we’ve worked very hard at it and have some level of confidence, don’t ruin it)

But any kind of comment at all on anything having to do with how I looked, even if it was just “hey, cool shirt!” made me want to run and hide. No no, don’t compliment that, it means you’re LOOKING at me and this weird man costume I don’t know how to wear!

I talked a bit about that, and how I always shrunk to make myself as unnoticeable as possible, and how allllll that changed after transition, in the Trans Tuesday on CONFIDENCE. At the time, though, you’ll see it was still mostly speculation on my part.

But I was right (because I’m very smart) and you can see that play out in the Trans Tuesday on CONFIDENCE 2: INTO THE UNKNOWN aka WHAT IS HAPPENING aka A WHOLE NEW WORLD.

Anyway I never got a lot of compliments on my appearance or anything physical, I was an average looking dude at best. And I mean I put no effort into it because being a dude was everything I hated, soooo…

Now, not only is that feeling gone, it’s quite the opposite (which I’m pretty sure is how compliments are supposed to work?). And it’s not just that I’m happy a friend likes something I’m wearing or the curls in my hair or whatever…

But it’s because there’s the added layer of being seen. And not just physically, but SEEN as a woman. I know that they see me as I truly am, and that’s… beyond amazing. See the Trans Tuesday on WHAT REAL CIS ACCEPTANCE LOOKS LIKE for what that can do to a person.

I’m not fishing for your compliments, truly! But I am agog at the realization that I will now be happy to receive them? Instead of running away screaming in terror? It’s a brand new experience.

So, ladies! Your hair’s beautiful, you look stunning in that outfit, and that photo is super flattering! You’re amazing and I adore you!

And I’ve got a lifetime to make up for, so I’m gonna tell you every chance I get.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com

HEAVILY GENDERED CLOTHES AND TRANS PEOPLE

Welcome to #TransTuesday! Today we’re going to talk about something unique, problematic, and wonderful for most trans people (and cis people too, if we’re being honest): HEAVILY GENDERED CLOTHES AND TRANS PEOPLE, AND WHY MUST IT ALL BE SO WEIRD.

Every person, trans or otherwise, has a unique relationship with clothing. I’ve had a really weird relationship with clothes, for reasons that probably already make sense to you just from knowing I’m a trans woman.

I always found them a bit odd outside of practical uses. Shoes protect your feet, and socks protect your feet from getting blisters inside the shoes, sure. Great! Layers and coats keep you warm in the cold, yes. All of that makes sense.

And they can protect you from getting too much sun or a sunburn, they can keep… stuff… in the spot you want it kept in. Plus: POCKETS. And all of that has a definite logic to it.

Beyond that, however, I just never got it. Why do we even wear them? Because we decided it was uncivilized for us to all walk around naked, I suppose, but that’s… I dunno, not a great reason? It always baffled me.

I always had favorite shirts or pants or whatever, like anyone. But that was almost exclusively based around comfort. I never understood using clothes as a means of self expression, or appreciated them for their artistic value.

So fashion always mystified me. Why would anyone care about it? It just didn’t make sense. And it’s weird because I always appreciated every other form of artistic expression I came across.

And I think the reason for that relates to some of what I talked about in the Trans Tuesday on THE FEAR OF EMBRACING YOUR TRUE SELF (makeup and hair dye and costumes and Halloween), because it all comes back to appearance.

I suppose because I felt like I was wearing a “cisgender straight boy” costume every second of my life, I didn’t put any real thought into, or even care about, what went on top of that costume. Except for… one thing.

I have always, always hated dressing up. HATED. IT. The thought of it actively repulsed me. My parents told me this just meant I preferred to dress more casual, but SURPRISE, that’s not it. And of course casual dress is not appropriate in all situations.

It’s suits I hate. Collared shirts. Ties. Because our society codes those as intrinsically MALE, and I’ve never felt like (or actually been) a man. And of course ladies and non-binary folks can wear suits, and look amazing in them!

I’ve never actually worn a suit, because you just could NOT get me into one. I’ve worn a tux exactly four times in my life… my senior prom, once to surprise Susan because she’d always wanted to see me in one, then again at our wedding, and in the one wedding I was best man for.

“Best man.” Ha. Hm. oof.

Anyway, thinking about those situations where I was going to be required to dress up… what if it would have been socially acceptable for me to wear a dress, and I didn’t feel scared out of my mind to do so?

My heart would have taken flight, left my body, and flitted up to the clouds, where it’d find a nice home for sale and would immediately move right in. I have no problem with occasions requiring “nicer” clothing, now that I know that doesn’t mean I have to wear a suit.

Part of my distaste for “guy clothes” stems from how horridly bland most of them are. For years and years I was so frustrated at how difficult it was to find anything that wasn’t black, gray, or blue (or sometimes brown, if you were a very lucky boy).

Beau Brummell was the bane of my existence. He’s the reason so much of men’s fashion sucks. Dark, drab colors! Suits! Ties! AUGH. Screw that guy. He was by all accounts also an unrepentant dick, so don’t feel too bad for him. This Esquire article on him is very good.

What the hell even IS a tie? A random useless bit of fabric you wrap around your neck? WHY? Nothing confused me like goddamned ties. Okay sure, you want some color in your suit… WHY NOT WEAR A DIFFERENT COLOR SUIT THEN MY DUDES?

There are so many colors in this world, and I love them. I love when they’re bright and vibrant and society tells us, no, those colors are not for cisgender men who want to be taken seriously. And that’s bullshit.

You can see the Trans Tuesday on UNEXPECTED BONUSES OF TRANSITION for more on how important color actually is to me, and how transitioning freed me up to like what I always liked but was told I wasn’t allowed to.

So the reason I hated suits and ties and dark colors is because they’re not ME, and that does come down to my self-expression. If they’re you, that’s GREAT. We should all express ourselves through our clothes however we want.

My rejection of those things, however, isn’t because I’m transgender or a woman… because again, I think ladies in suits can look AMAZING. But it’s because society codes those as “male” and that’s the absolute last thing I want to be.

But it’s also about how I feel. I don’t FEEL right in a tux. I own a lot of skirts and dresses, and HOOO let me tell you how polar opposite the feeling is when I wear it. This is undeniably GENDER EUPHORIA, which can be a key part of discovering how trans or cis you really are.

I’m still trying to figure out what my style is. It’s definitely girly, but it’s also kind of sporty at times, which probably tracks based on what I said in the discussion on THE FALSE DICHOTOMY.

There will be an upcoming Trans Tuesday all about figuring out my style, now that I’m (maybe) honing in on it some. The first women’s clothes I owned were for running, which I mentioned in the Trans Tuesday on BODY HACKING.

The actual first (non-running) women’s clothes I bought were underwear, because obviously nobody would see them when I was out running errands or whatever. And I’m not going to get too TMI here, don’t worry.

The last thing I want to do is put an image of me in underwear into your head (too late, isn’t it?). But, like… the first ladies underwear I bought had donuts on them. And pizza. And robots. And hearts. And cherries. And a DeLorean. And BABY YODA.

Because you don’t just jump into weird sexy lingerie or whatever. Being transgender is not remotely the same as cross-dressing, or drag, or anything else. And all those things are FINE, I am not casting aspersions.

But they’re not the same as being transgender. Though trans folks, including me, can also certainly wear underwear of the sexy variety if we want to (I just put that image in your head now too, I guess, so SORRY but maybe also YOU’RE WELCOME).

Outside of all that, though, I still can’t usually stand anything remotely baggy. Which is a shame because, again, looser clothing looks amazing on all kinds of people.

But for so, so long, I wore baggy everything because it hid my body. I didn’t want the world to see it, and didn’t want to see it myself, because it made me feel awful for reasons I didn’t understand.

Er… except for my jeans, which well into my early 20s were far too tight because I didn’t know how to find the right size. Susan thankfully helped me fix that because 😬

Anyway, the baggiest thing I have now is one sweater, and I love it because it was the first (non-running) piece of (outer) women’s clothing I ever bought.

Because although it has a big neckline, it’s otherwise kind of gender-neutral and I could wear it without (in my mind) giving away my true self. So I love it for that reason, but was still a struggle for a long time.

Because anything even remotely loose or baggy is associated in my head with hiding myself and the awful dysphoric feelings that came with it. Which is not to say all my clothes now are skin-tight, but they’re definitely form fitting.

I hoped that would lessen over time… and to my surprise, it has! See the Trans Tuesday on PHOTOS 2: THE SELFIE APOCALYPSE and you can see it happen in real time.

For basically my entire life pre-transition, I was SUPER uncomfortable with tank tops and never wore them. Having my arms exposed somehow felt more feminine, which terrified me. I got more comfortable with them the more I came to accept I was transgender, though.

Which is weird and bonkers, anyone should and can wear them if they want to. But everything gets so mixed up in your head (or it did in mine, anyway) when trying to decode all of this that it took me forever to figure that out.

And now, trying to determine what my style is and what I prefer is difficult for a number of reasons, because (spoiler alert) women’s clothes vary in sizing so much that the sizes are almost useless. You guy-clothes wearing folks seriously don’t know how good you have it.

I can’t just say I’m a “medium” and be done with it. Everything has chest and bust and waist and hip sizes, and even then everything varies by manufacturer and store.

On top of that, hi and hello I am 6’ 1/2” and did you know not many cisgender ladies are this tall? So women’s clothes that actually fit me are a trick to find. (I’ve found some now, this isn’t a call for a flood of links, but I thank you for your thoughtfulness)

But EVEN STILL, when I find things I like and that fit me, they don’t always fit right. My jeans are all baggy in the butt, because I HAVE NO BUTT. It’s flat as a sheet of drywall back there.

I may yet get MORE BUTT from hormone replacement therapy, but if so it’s not remotely begun to start yet. ANY TIME IT WOULD LIKE TO, however, would be good with me, and throw in some damned hips while you’re at it (more fun images for your head, I am here to serve).

And let me tell you about pockets, friends. Pockets pockets pockets.

In dude jeans I carried my wallet and keys in my left front pocket. My right held my iphone and there was STILL ROOM. I could fit my entire hand in either of them, up to the wrist.

But the pockets on my women’s jeans can hold… half my wallet, or half my phone. I mean, I knew before having women’s jeans of my own that the pocket situation for ladies was horrid, but I didn’t realize HOW horrid.

Why don’t women’s clothes have real pockets? It’s for all kinds of sexist reasons… that are ACTUALLY sexist. The “slimmer silhouette” is one reason, which is all part of upholding the sexist, patriarchal ideal of how a woman “should” look.

Another is because it literally puts women at a disadvantage. Sure, many women carry purses. And this is why. But think about that for a second.

My wallet, keys, and phone are going from a pocket held next to my body that there’s no way anyone could get to without my noticing… to an external bag that anyone could just grab and run away with. It instantly puts women at a disadvantage.

It also means it takes us longer to get anything we need, including perhaps items for self-defense (like phones to call for help, or pepper spray, or whatever else).

This Vox article about it is pretty good, and explains how the entire thing was rooted in misogyny and controlling women.

Here’s a choice quote. “Women’s pockets were private spaces they carried into the public with increasing freedom, and during a revolutionary time, this freedom was very, very frightening. The less women could carry, the less freedom they had.

“Take away pockets happily hidden under garments, and you limit women’s ability to navigate public spaces, to carry seditious (or merely amorous) writing, or to travel unaccompanied.”

So fellas, the next time you make fun of ladies for not having pockets or for asking you to hold their damn purse, maybe… DON’T do that and instead understand the horrid power play the lack of pockets is and how that affects everything women do, everywhere we go.

Hell, even BUTTONS are likely sexist and classist. Didja ever notice buttons on women’s clothes are on the opposite side as buttons on men’s clothes? Learning how to button the opposite way it worked my whole life has been really hard!

A tweet I made on Feb 4, 2023 that reads: so much of your life changes when you transition, but nobody ever tells you that the buttons switching sides on your clothes will be your undoing

Smithsonian Magazine has an interesting article on why buttons are the way they are, which ranges from men drawing swords to prove their manliness to rich white women having chamber maids who were dressing them.

All of which is to say… fashion and clothes are a form of self-expression, and that’s great. But don’t buy into whatever you’re “supposed” to wear because of your gender or body type or anything else.

Just be you, whoever that might be. And wear whatever the heck you want.

…except for neckties, which will forever be inherently bad and wrong, and should all be destroyed immediately. 😌

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com

It’s me! In a black v-neck dress with white stars all over it! Yay!

BODY HAIR

Welcome to Trans Tuesday! Today we’re gonna talk about BODY HAIR. What fun! …for some people, I guess? But not for me!

Your frame of reference for this is that body hair is one of the things that spikes my gender dysphoria. It’s probably best to read GENDER DYSPHORIA first so you understand why I do all of what I do to deal with it.

I had a fair amount of body hair pre-transition. I wasn’t like a bear or anything (not talking about the animals, and if you’re not familiar with that term… I wish you a very happy internet search!) but neither was I some spritely nymph with skin as smooth as butter.

Seeing my body hair always made me unhappy, and seeing it grow in now gives me a miserable dysphoria spike. So I’ve got to remove it. And I think a lot of cisgender folks, even cis women, don’t know what that entails.

The first time I shaved my legs was… an experience. It gave me a feeling I’d later identify as GENDER EUPHORIA, which is exactly what it sounds like, the polar opposite of gender dysphoria.

Shaving legs is something ladies do (generally, if they want, it’s up to them, but also some guys do and that’s cool). But if I do it, then… maybe… I’m a lady?!?!? 😀

It was also terrifying. I’m not sure how to accurately convey what it’s like to be doing something you think might make you feel better, but you’re not sure. And it can’t just be immediately undone.

So what if I hate it? What if it makes me feel no different at all? The latter was the biggest issue for me, because if it didn’t help then was I really trans? I mean yes, sure, you absolutely can be a trans woman and not want to shave your legs. But would I be? See YES YOU ARE TRANS ENOUGH for more on how what you do or do not do to transition does not determine your transness.

It’s all so confusing at every step, and there was an even bigger question that plagued me about this, but I’m saving that for the end. 

In any case, this advanced to shaving my armpits and then my arms and then my torso. Which is… a time-intensive process. Legs on their own have so much surface area, you don’t really realize until you have to cover all of it.

The problem with shaving my legs is that for some reason the top of my thighs were always a problem. Nicks and cuts and horrid razor burn all the time. It was very vexing. I’d also routinely get nicks and cuts on my arms, even with a brand new blade.

And early on in transition I’d have to do it twice a week. Because even though I was on HRT, which can possibly slow/thin body hair in trans women, it took a long time for that to happen for me. It finally did, but more on that in a bit.

So I gathered up my courage and got myself one of the nasty ladies you see in the header image of this essay.

If you’re too sweet and innocent to know what that instrument of pain and torture is, it’s an epilator. It has a drum that spins really fast, covered in tweezers, and it rips your hair out by the root.

If you’ve never used one… I envy you. Here’s a good way to picture the feeling in your mind: have you ever plucked an eyebrow hair? If not, seriously, grab a pair of tweezers and pull one out. Right now. I promise you no one will ever notice.

Okay, hurts like fuck, right? Now imagine about twenty of those at once, per second, sustained over a half an hour all over your body. Using an epilator gets you your certified badass card (it’s a great club to be a member of, we all wear sunglasses and are mysteriously stoic).

Epilators are generally designed, intended, and marketed for cisgender ladies, which I bring up only because the instructions that come with it tell you that you should need to do it every three to four weeks.

Oh? Oh? IT IS TO LAUGH.

Because you lucky cis ladies don’t have hair that’s super thick, or that grows all that fast… in general. I know that some of you do, and believe me, I feel your literal pain.

I had to epilate every. Single. week.

And did you know that you can’t just epilate? Oh no. Because if the hairs are too long, they’ll simply break, and then you end up still being hairy and with a lot of ingrown hairs knocking at the door and dropping off their bags for a long visit.

My epilator came with an electric razor head you could swap in, and I had to use that first (also once a week!) to trim all the hair down so the epilator can function properly.

The first time I used the epilator, my body looked like I’d fallen into a vat of starving mosquitoes and decided to just chill in there for a few hours. It was kind of horrific.

But your skin gets used to it, and eventually that only happened when I epilated over an area I somehow missed every single time before (which happened more than I care to admit).

Also! Mine was waterproof and it suggested you epilate in the shower under running water. Which I did, and cannot recommend enough. Hot water opens the pores and loosens things, so the hairs come out a little  easier and it hurts a bit less.

Over time I kind of became weirdly fond of the feeling. Probably because it hurt less after doing it so much, and also because I could feel it wiping out dysphoria as I went. Your mileage may vary.

So what exactly did I epilate? Keep in mind I had to cover all of this with the electric razor head first, and then the next day I’d cover the same areas with the epilator.

My toes. The tops of my feet. My ankles. All around my shins and calves. The top, front, sides, and back of my knees. And the latter is super sensitive because how often does anything touch you there? 

Every side of my thighs, all the way around. My hips. My lower abdomen. My stomach (why does my tummy gotta be hairy?!), and that’s not easy because it’s soft and there’s a belly button there (because I am a human person).

My torso, my boobs and cleavage (such as they were). The backs of my fingers. The back of my hand. My wrists. All sides of my forearms, inside/outside of my elbows, my upper arms, and the top of my shoulders.

Also I don’t know about anyone else because it would be a weird thing to ask, but my body hair seems to grow in all different directions! So I often had to epilate an area in four different directions to actually get as much of the hair out as possible.

The epilator has attachments it says make it less intense for “sensitive areas”, like armpits and even your face (and other adult places… like bars and night clubs?). I am sad to tell you I was never that brave. I shave those areas manually with a hand-held razor.

One interesting thing is that the feeling of epilation is so intense that shaving afterward with a razor and some soap literally felt like I was just rubbing a piece of silk on my body by comparison. It’s such a weird sensation!

It took 40-45 minutes to cover all of that, and again I did it twice – shaving and then epilating. So that was a good hour and a half of my week, every week, taken up with this. I was glad to do it, it made me feel much better, but it always pissed me off that it ate so much of my time.

And if you missed the essay on TIME AND MONEY, remember that I even had the ability to spend that time on shaving and epilating is a PRIVILEGE.

Quick aside. I’ve found that Tend Skin, an alcohol-based aftershave, worked wonders if I put it on right after epilating. Keeps any razor burn or ingrown hairs to a minimum. Highly recommended.

…but if you do have any tiny nicks or cuts or ingrown hairs, it’s gonna sting. But that’s fine, you just epilated! You’re a goddamned warrior.

I shaved one day, epilated the next. Then I had about two and a half days (sometimes a titch longer) of mostly hairless bliss.

By the next day I had stubble. Everywhere. Which just got longer as the week went on, until I shaved it again. I did all of that for not even three full days of peace per week.

Also when you have long hair, the loose ones that just normally fall out in the shower (or any other time) get stuck in your body hair stubble, which is just super fun to pick off of yourself all the time.

And I’m still privileged in other ways too, because imagine someone who also gets dysphoria from their body hair but can’t afford an epilator. Or who maybe has a hairy back and lives alone and has no way to remove it!

I’m very thankful my back is basically hairless. I’m sure Susan is too, because otherwise I’d have enlisted her into a one-woman back shaving army… and I suspect that’s not high on her list of things to experience.

Early on, I tried seeing if I could just shave with the electric razor head and not epilate… nope. The hair grew so fast I’d have to shave twice a week, but since it doesn’t shave all that close, I was eternally covered in stubble.

And that made epilation take longer, because there was more stubble than usual, and it was a disaster all around. Also, to note, even after epilating, I could feel the stubble. It was never all the way smooth and hairless. Never.

Thankfully, now basically five years into medical transition and being on estrogen injections and not pills, by body hair has thinned and slowed considerably. I stopped needing to epilate a couple years ago. Now I just shave all over (with an electric razor) once a week, and it takes me only about 25 minutes. And though I still get some stubble as it grows back in, it’s not nearly as bad as it was. 

But here’s the other question that’s plagued me about this since before I was even sure I was trans.

Why does body hair bother me?

I‘ve seen cis women with hair on their legs and arms. It’s fine. People can (and should) be as hairy or hairless as they like. So why does it bother me? Why do I not want to be hairy?

Is it because I associate it with being a man, because I had body hair when I presented as, and thought I was, a man? 

Or is it because our patriarchal, misogynistic, transphobic society says “hairy = manly!” and “hairless = being a ‘good’ woman?” We’ve all seen the shit a cis woman has to deal with if she just decides to not shave her legs for a while.

If you’re not familiar with that, cis fellas, ask some of the ladies in your life.

Anyway, if I feel this way because of society teaching us bad things, am I just confirming and feeding into that by shaving my legs and such? Is that bad? Should I just let it be and tell misogyny to go fuck itself?

I’d never ask that question of any other person, cisgender or transgender or agender or nonbinary or anything else. If they want to shave their legs or anything else, cool! They should! And if they don’t, also cool! 

I know a lot of trans masc folks for whom body hair is euphoric for them. And that makes me so happy! It’s all about each of us just finding what’s right for us.

But when it comes to me, I feel like that doesn’t apply for some reason. Is this some of my own INTERNALIZED TRANSPHOBIA? Could be.

But I don’t want to do anything that can be used to hurt and harm other people. That’s been done to me enough in my life. See PARENTS WHO WILL NEVER KNOW THE REAL YOU aka MY DAD, for more on how my mom used me as a weapon to wound others.

So all I’m left with is knowing I still haven’t figured it out. I don’t know why body hair spikes my dysphoria. 

What I have figured out is that, regardless of the reason, my body hair being gone makes me happy and lessens my dysphoria.

That’s good enough for now.

And maybe that’s all that it needs to be.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com

DISCRIMINATORY BUREAUCRACY

Welcome to #TransTuesday! Today we’re going to talk about something that pops up often in life after you transition, and for lack of a better term I’m gonna call it: DISCRIMINATORY BUREAUCRACY.

This sort of thing has cropped up so many times, and in every instance it has been unintentional (at least as far as I can tell). So just to be clear I don’t think I, or trans people in general, have been the target of policies that were designed to hurt us ~in these instances.~

There are ABSOLUTELY laws and programs and policies around the country that ARE designed to actively hurt us, and they’ve ramped up this year in an astonishing way. If you’re not aware, there are presently TWO HUNDRED EIGHTY discriminatory laws on the way!
https://www.themarysue.com/why-are-there-so-many-bills-targeting-trans-kids

These are horrible and disgusting and the goal is to make it impossible for us to exist in society, and WE NEED YOU to stop them. Please see last week’s trans tuesday on PERFORMATIVE ALLYSHIP, and all the linked threads within on how to be the REAL ALLY we need.

But today I want to show you how even when there AREN’T 280 bills from jackass bigots trying to hurt us and legislate us out of existence, the way our society has been set up by and for cisgender people can cause problems you likely never thought about.

For the entirety of my medical transition, we’ve been with Kaiser (who, if you’re not familiar, are both a health insurance company AND a medical care provider). On the whole, my experience with them during transition has been relatively good.

But it hasn’t been perfect. I really wish they’d do informed consent for trans people, rather than the incredibly long phone call I had to have with a therapist where I had to “prove” I was a woman. See the trans tuesday on TRANS KIDS AND THE INTAKE EXAM.

And you can see how some of their staff just have no idea how to handle trans people, and/or some of them can be actively horrible (but some are also actively wonderful, aka they are humans). See NO ESCAPE 2: SOME ESCAPE (due to cis allyship).

Now you may be reading those and thinking HOLY SHIT, THAT’S “RELATIVELY GOOD”?? To which I say yeah, it has been. Because the alternative is so much worse. Plus there have been some genuinely wonderful moments, as you can read about in the original trans tuesday on NO ESCAPE (from my deadname and reminders that I’m trans).

But my endocrinologist has been really wonderful in every way, I adore him and he is genuinely concerned with being sure that my hormone replacement therapy is going the way *I* want it to. He’s not holding me to some fake arbitrary standard of “you must do X to be trans.”

If you’re unaware, endocrinologists handle HRT, which you can learn more about in its trans tuesday.

Although the flip side of that is my GP, while a very nice lady, seems to not have tons of experience with trans folks. And while Kaiser covers laser/electrolysis hair removal (facial hair is the absolute worst source of my gender dysphoria)…

…they wouldn’t cover it until my testosterone levels dropped below an arbitrary level. I’ve mentioned this before, but I could have signed up for gender confirmation surgery on the DAY the therapist confirmed I’m trans if I wanted to.

Because cis people decided THAT was what was most important to trans people, I guess? Never mind for me it’s never ever having to shave my face again, and I didn’t get authorization to do something about it until 18 months into my medical transition.

I still haven’t been able to start it, btw, because you have to have a mask off for that and I live with someone who’s immune-compromised. You can read more on the joys of A PANDEMIC TRANSITION.

And they also keep reminding me to get a gynecological exam so… y’know, it’s give and take. See COMPLETE TRANS HEALTHCARE (or lack thereof).

Okay, so now that you’ve got the set up, let’s get into what I’m actually talking about in this particular instance. Some of the bureaucracy that just wasn’t designed to even take the existence of trans people into account.

Kaiser has digital medical records (one would hope, in 2022!) that all medical professionals there can access at any time, and which patients can also access at any time. It’s really nice, actually!

The problem is they have a… photo associated with your medical record. I suppose so no one else can say they’re you and surreptitiously get treated for a medical issue without paying? The horror.

I had honestly forgotten about this for a long time, because I hadn’t been going to appointments in person (due to the pandora’s box) and so I never saw it up on the computers in the exam room. All I’ve been doing in person are the required periodic lab visits for blood draws.

But during one of my voice therapy sessions, the speech therapist (who I ADORE, she’s just the absolute best) remarked that there was an “old” photo of me in there. And you know exactly what she meant by that.

And that obviously bugged me. I went into the Kaiser app, and there’s a spot where you can see your virtual insurance card, which you can use in place of the physical one when you need to show it for appointments and such. And there was that old photo.

Despite specifically going to see if it was there, I was somehow entirely unprepared for seeing that dude again, and it was… painful. Dysphoria exploded all over, and it just made me miserable. I needed it gone.

Because what if I needed to show it to someone? That is not REMOTELY what I look like now! They’d never believe it’s the same person (which is GREAT, yay HRT, I’ve come so far).

Plus every time *I* see it, it makes my dysphoria so, so, SO much worse. I cannot have that popping up in front of me all the time.

So I logged into the website, and I noticed there was a spot where I could upload a profile photo. I naively assumed uploading one there would change the one on my medical record/virtual insurance card, but nope.

I sent them an email and explained the problem. They said only the doctor who was my general practitioner could change the photo, contact her and ask her to do it. That seems a weird administrative thing to make a doctor do, but fine.

My doctor says… no, we don’t do that, you need to contact administration. So I do. I ask if they can just make my web profile photo my medical record/insurance card photo. Nope! Impossible.

And they NOW tell me there is no way whatsoever to do what I’m asking without me going in person and having someone at a Kaiser facility take my new photo.

Right in the middle of the delta wave of a horrid pancetta that’s killed a MILLION Americans, while living with an immunocompromised person, I had to go into a medical facility and remove my mask just so they could take a photo of me? And put my wife’s life at risk?

So sorry, they said, that’s company policy.

Well that company policy is BULLSHIT and it is DISCRIMINATORY TO TRANS PEOPLE, and I told them so. They’ve agreed my dysphoria is real and serious and needs medical treatment, but I have to be forced to have it WORSENED every time I open their app?

Or go to get labs? And then if one of their employees sees the old photo and thinks that’s not me, they could refuse to treat me? And then I have to explain to another stranger how I’m transgender?

All because you won’t change one fucking photo to not only be accurate to who I am, but to ALLEVIATE THE PROBLEM YOU ARE TREATING ME FOR?

Silence for a few days. Suddenly I find the profile photo I uploaded to the website has magically replaced the old photo (somehow! Goodness, I thought they couldn’t do that?), and they finally wrote me back and say I brought up valid concerns and they apologized.

They said they were internally addressing the policy, and I hope that’s true. I asked them to address it system-wide, so that no other trans people with Kaiser have to go through this. Maybe some extra good could come of it.

Sadly the EXACT same thing happened when I tried to update my name with them.

We had Kaiser via Covered California at the time, which is the state healthcare exchange set up as part of Obamacare. Kaiser told us to contact Covered California, Covered California told us only Kaiser could change it.

I got stuck in that loop FOR MONTHS, until our insurance CHANGED and we then got Kaiser through Susan’s employer. Then I was able to actually get it changed. Meanwhile, for 18 MONTHS of transition, I had to see my deadname on EVERY medication. Every day. Multiple times a day.

It’s like a dysphoria bomb in the medicine cabinet. And sure I could black it out with a marker or whatever, or turn the bottle so I don’t see it, but I would still know why both those things had been done. I’d still know it was there. Still reminded of it = still a problem.

So when it FINALLY changed with them and I got the first prescription with my real name on it, I cannot tell you the relief it brought. I STILL have many bottles with my deadname on them, and will until those medications run out and are refilled. But it’s progress, at least.

I say all of this just to show you how every little facet of life can change when you transition, and how so much of the world we live in just isn’t at all made to consider our existence. And it all adds up, and makes it much tougher for us to just live in this world.

Also, hey, look at that poor, miserable egg. That photo was taken before I even consciously knew, even though the subconscious signs were always there. But look who was inside all along. I wish the world made it easier for us to get from A to B.

Tilly Bridges, end transmission.
tillysbridges@gmail.com