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Five years ago I moved from my country of origin (England) to my new country of residence (Sweden), with my partner, who had taken a new job there. 

Since then, I’ve visited a few times, to see friends and family and attend medical appointments (private healthcare for transition-related surgeries, to skip the long queues and uneven results of the swedish public system). Two years ago, I decided to stop spending christmas in the UK, since travelling at that time of year is always extremely expensive and stressful. My partner and I have been trying to orient our lives less around visiting people who live elsewhere and more around our own preferences.

This summer I spent three weeks in England, none of it in places I would choose to spend my time if not for people I needed to see who lived there. I realised that the country has become foreign to me. I think of Sweden as home, I feel that the city I live in is more emotionally home to me than the town I was born in. I love this place powerfully.  

This freaked me out. I spent the first two weeks grappling with the terror that someone might force me to move back there, that I would never escape it, that I would go back to my old, unhappy life and the oppressive, pervasive hopelessness that had become so apparent as a national trait. My friends and family assume that of course I must prefer England, and sometimes that of course I must plan to move back to England eventually, and I resent both incorrect assumptions. In my absence, England has moved politically rightwards more overtly, which horrifies me. Even if it had not, I prefer the swedish ways of doing things, the climate, the city layout, the infrastructure. I say this even though I warn others than being an immigrant is grindingly tough and the swedes are notably unwelcoming. 

This sense of home casts new light on my life here, specifically I feel like a bad immigrant. I took language lessons but didn’t practice, so I can understand enough to get by but can’t keep up in conversation, can’t watch a movie or a play, can’t listen to the radio. I have to keep asking people to speak english with me. I remember when I first moved here, I met a colleague of my partner who had lived here for 15 years and learned no swedish at all. I remember boggling at his arrogance. It seemed stunningly rude and selfish. I worry that I am being rude and selfish. I don’t keep up with news or media, nationally or locally. I don’t know much about politics or culture. In guilt, now, I have added news media in simple swedish and english to my social media feeds. I haven’t even visited any more of the country than the city I live in and two other nearby cities. I keep trying to ask my partner to do so, but life has been getting in the way for five years. 

I don’t have a strong social circle here, but I do have a weak one. Most of them are primarily interested in my partner. My friendships withered with the pandemic, as did my attempts to take up social hobbies. Visiting my old friends in England made it clear that they all think of us with warmth, but also that their lives have moved on and we’re not really part of them anymore. My family, too, have made it clear that in their eyes, I left, so I must make all the compromises in our relationship. I visit them, they don’t visit me. I keep track of the time difference, they don’t think about it. They think the same of all our other family members who are scattered across the globe. Maybe I should reach out to my cousins who also live abroad more often.

This country has flaws. Am I simply able to feel more detached from them because it’s not truly mine? The flaws of my country of origin do pain me. The flaws of both make me angry and sad. 

We have plans to leave this country. Does my ability to grow to love a place mean that I will come to consider the new country home too, or will I be uprooted and lose two homes? Do I just love this city so much because I know I will soon lose it?

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So I had a silly experience at the doctor's the other day.

My endochrinologist has been insisting through the whole pandemic that he wants face-to-face meetings, which I have been consistently requesting to change to telephone appointments because I'm immunosuppressed and 90% of the time our appointments are just "Your blood tests are fine, any issues? Carry on with the same dose, then, bye". Anyway, so it turns out the reason he wanted to get me there in person was partially so that he can fuss about my weight. My BMI is a bit high, I am aware of this, I have mirrors and eyes and clothes.


The problem is that he decided to do this at the end of the appointment, after we had gone through my blood test results in minute detail. Not only the bloods he requested for my hormones, but also the results for monitoring other medications I'm on, resulting in an extremely thorough and comprehensive review of pretty much everything one could conceivably measure. We'd also checked my blood pressure, noted recent medical updates from other doctors, and then, after half an hour of volunteering the expert informed opinion that I was perfectly healthy in every respect, in every organ and by every standard, with nothing even approaching borderline or concerning values, does this poor man attempt to switch tacks and insist that surely I must be desperately, dangerously unhealthy. The frustration in his face as he tried to reconcile the numbers on the scale with the numbers he'd just assured me were excellent was visible. It wasn't exactly comfortable being grilled about my activity levels and eating habits, but there was nothing to fault there either, I genuinely am meeting the guidelines and more.


So yes, fatphobia is arbitary and pointless.
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Day 26: Talk about role models. Who are your role models? How have they influenced you?

I’ve never really grokked the concept of role models. They’re just people. I can admire a facet of a person, but that’s never going to be the whole of them and it’s possible that it’s not even them at all, just my perception of them. I don’t understand putting people on pedestals in that way. There are trans people I admire, certainly (my first ever trans friend, prominent or niche authors, poets, and journalists, members of a friend’s leather family, members of online communities I’m part of, other real-life trans friends), but that doesn’t mean that my transition necessarily has anything in common with theirs. I feel no particular urge to make the same choices as them. They’ve influenced me by being trans people in my life, showing me passively that it’s possible to have a good life while trans, and inspiring me by their own individual positive qualities, which usually have more to do with, say, confidence or stylishness or competence or thoughtfulness or communication or writing skills than with gender.


Day 27: Talk about politics and activism. Has being trans influenced your stance on any political issues or candidates? Are you active in your local trans and/or LGBT+ community?

It has made me more aware of transphobia in politics. I was queer before, so aware of homophobia in politics, but there are some individuals and parties, especially in the UK, who support gay rights while attacking trans rights. It’s very disappointing.

I am not particularly active in my local trans or LGBTQ community, but I do have some local queer friends, and am making more local trans friends with the help of social media (then inviting them to hang out in person), so I have high hopes for that! 


Day 28: Talk about religion and spirituality. Has being trans influenced your spirituality? Have you joined or left a church because of their stance on trans related issues? Have you found acceptance in your religious community?

I’m not part of a religious community, and never have been. Being trans has not influenced that. I do know trans and supportive religious people, so don’t think there’s automatically a conflict. 


Day 29: Let’s be positive. Post a message of loving kindness. If you can’t honestly open your heart to the whole world, narrow it down to one special person if you have to. But try to put some positivity out there in a public way.

I do genuinely have great warmth for the trans community. We are (though it’s a cliche) brave, powerful, independent, caring, hilarious, thoughtful, generous, and very hot. I’ve seen people immediately offer up everything to help someone out, even if they don’t even know them, even if they do know and find them personally irritating, from empathy for a fellow trans person. I’ve found so many people that I admire and that I’m happy to enjoy sharing space with. I hope that everyone can find a part of the community that’s right for them. I hope we all get to feel safe, get a little breathing room, get to relax in the knowledge that we are seen and valued and secure. I hope that together we can find the good parts of this chaotic world, the things we love in our lives, and that those can expand as we invest our time in them. Things are weird lately, but observe the flipside of how life is hard to predict: I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but we’re going to be ok.


Day 30 asks you not to post, and Day 31 asks you to simply make yourself visible


Day 31: Well here I am, posting this publicly. 

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Day 21: Talk about transphobia. Have you experienced discrimination? Have you been the target of hate speech or slurs? Have you been a victim of abuse or violence?

No, I haven’t. The closest I’ve come is stonewalling from a doctor’s receptionist, who was forced to back down when I contacted the practice manager citing the guidelines she was breaking, but that’s because of my privileges again: the man was absolutely goddamn terrified of being accused of discrimination. I am certainly aware of transphobia, and the potential for danger, but I have not encountered it personally. I do think that engaging with transphobes or seeking out their voices, even to combat their ideas, convince their audience, know thy enemy,  or make fun of them, can be a form of self harm and leads to miserable burnout. 


Day 22: Talk about something funny. Has anything humorous or ironic ever happened to you because you were trans? Have you used humour to help make people more comfortable with your being trans?

Recently the blood donation service phoned me using my previous name, and in the moment, surprised, all I could think of to do was burst out laughing and say “she doesn’t exist anymore”, which is a bit more ominous and alarming than was warranted. 

When I arrived in Sweden, the tax agency processed my registration and asked which school I was attending, thinking I was a teenage boy. 

I refused to clarify exactly what kind of surgery I was having, on grounds of basic privacy, so we’re pretty certain my in-laws believe I have a penis. They’re going to freak out at everything trans-related anyway and they certainly do not have a right to information about the current state of my genitals, so whatever, not going to waste energy correcting their assumptions. I suppose in that case I’m doing the exact opposite of the prompt, using humour to make me more comfortable with people being uncomfortable that I’m trans. I do not do the prompt thing, I’m a grown adult and being trans is not unusual or scary, if someone is uncomfortable then that’s their fucking problem to get over.


Day 23: Talk about gender roles. Do you feel that you conform to a gender role? Do you feel that your conformity or lack of conformity to gender roles helps you or hurts you?

Sure, I conform pretty well to a straightforward masculine gender role. I genuinely like and prefer masculine clothing and grooming, feel no particular interest in feminine presentation, identify myself as a man, and use he/him pronouns exclusively. I’m not into sports but nor are plenty of cis men. My conformity definitely helps me. My identity is easily legible to cis-het society, I do not conflict with anyone’s expectations, so that leads to very little friction or confusion. It allowed me to access transition more easily and pass more quickly, as well as having a common model of identity to pass as. The only area I feel that I do not conform to gender roles around is by not being a top in bed. I like to do it from time to time, but I don’t default to it, and that conflicts with what people expect from men. People also do not expect a man to be a house-spouse, but I personally have encountered more homophobia than transphobia over that.


Day 24: Talk about misogyny and toxic masculinity. Do these affect you in your daily life? Are the social pressures you experience typical for your identified gender?

I really don’t think they do! Part of that, of course, is due to social isolation during the pandemic. Part of it is having a mostly-queer social circle. Being affected by misogyny was a huge, inescapable part of my daily life before transition. I very rarely encounter instances of toxic masculinity, partially because if someone is acting like that, I don’t want to spend time with them and will avoid doing so! 

I feel that in queer spaces, there is sometimes a general pervasive hatred/fear/distrust of men and of masculinity (I’m separating them on purpose, because the people with this attitude also attack, for example, butch queer women, and see nonbinary people as more trustworthy and “pure” the more feminine they are). I understand how this arises, but it’s TERF logic: evil is not stored in the masculinity, men are people, non-men are also complex moral beings. One way this can manifest is constant warnings that trans men exhibit toxic masculinity and must be on guard against it. I have pretty much never seen a trans masc person expressing toxic masculinity, the exception being a couple of miserable teenagers on reddit. I have frequently seen transmasc people accused of toxic masculinity for tiny petty bullshit every time they express a preference, speak above a whisper, or fail to apologise for their gender to the listener’s satisfaction every time they open their mouth, until the party line becomes “sure you can be a man, if you really must, even though they’re disgusting and morally suspect, but if you at any point present in a non-feminine manner or speak for yourself then you’re being toxic”. Pretty sure saying this means I’m expressing toxic masculinity in their eyes, too, which is why I don’t hang out with those people either.

 

Day 25: Talk about symbols. Do you ever fly the colours of any LGBT+ or gender identity flag in a symbolic way? Do you wear jewellery, buttons, patches, or other accessories that telegraph your being trans? Do you have any LGBT or gender identity related tattoos? Are they usually visible or hidden under clothing?

I have a progress pride flag, a trans flag, and a bear flag as home decoration. Dang, I need to get a bi flag to round out the set and a nonbinary flag for my partner. I don’t have tattoos yet and do not plan to get any overtly trans- or lgbtq-related ones, though it’s possible I’ll get some one day. I don’t tend to wear flag things, nor buttons/patches/badges at all. I could get a pronoun badge, which would probably read as an ally thing -can’t always let the burden of talking about pronouns fall on non-passing people. 

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Day 16: Be a voice of encouragement. Let’s take a moment to encourage people who are suffering in the closet to take steps to improve their life. Fight fear with love!

Did you know that you can transition just because you want to? It doesn’t have to be a life-or-death need, or something that you’ve been certain of since you were five, or even something you’re certain of now. It doesn’t have to be a profound statement about your innermost self, or 100% binary all the steps, or something pleasing to other people. If you think that you would like to transition, that you would prefer your life and your body to be that way rather than this way, you can do it. Wanting this is a good enough reason to have it. I say this in a country with a lot of gatekeeping, not an informed-consent utopia, because a) people who are nonbinary or only want certain parts of transition or aren’t teens or aren’t straight and gender-conforming can and do transition even through these slow, old-fashioned state systems, and b) you can lie to gatekeepers, it’s not even uncommon, it’s not even really lying: you’re presenting them with the parts of the truth that are relevant, and happening to not mention things that aren’t their business or would only muddy the waters. Don’t lie to your endocrinologist, though, they’re usually asking the intrusive questions for legitimate reasons and by the time you see them, you’re usually past the gatekeeping steps. You can always ask for the rationale behind a question. You are not obligated to get any particular surgery, many people don’t do a big coming out to everyone in their lives, if you’re terrified of gaining body hair or losing head hair you can take finasteride (research the risks and effects carefully), there’s a growing body of evidence that HRT does not reliably make people infertile.   

One of the great advantages of the internet is the ability to connect with other trans people anonymously, or even just lurk in spaces where trans people talk with each other. You can get a lot of information about what transition involves, common issues and their solutions, how people choose their steps and how they feel about them. Over time, you can get an idea of how you feel about these prospects. We’ve all been in the closet at one point in our lives, we’ve all spent time agonising over whether and how to transition, most people want to offer you support. 

It is very frustrating that the early parts of transition are the most hassle. Coming out, changing your name, getting new ID documents, getting new clothes, figuring out how to present in a different way, especially when you’re unlikely to pass, is all genuinely difficult. Finding it difficult is not a sign that you can’t handle transition. This is a temporary stage. It all gets easier. Many trans people find that the people in their lives react much better than they feared: no-one really wants conflict.


Day 17: Talk with pride. Why are you proud to be trans? How do you show the world your pride?

It’s really more of a neutral fact about my life. I’m not ashamed, but it’s personal, therefore not many people’s business. I’m certainly happy being trans, I think if I hadn’t come to understand myself this way and transitioned I would just have become more and more resentful, miserable and angry. I’m happy that I was able to access transition. I’m happy to show off my top surgery results to other trans mascs, online and in person,  and happy to provide a possibility model for other trans people, living my life. But when I go to Pride, it’s because I’m queer, specifically bisexual. That’s the flag I carry, though I consider the rainbow to apply to all of the LGBTQ community, and I fit pretty squarely into the bear subculture stereotype these days, which is nice, so could probably opt into their section too. I joke that I’m one of the trans people who have collected all the letters: at various points in my life, I have identified as lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, and queer. I do like wearing obnoxiously gay shorts, tanktops, haircuts, but subtly: about presentation, not about flag colours. Damn, I miss Pride now. There's something special about being in queer-normative spaces.


Day 18: Talk about privilege. What privileges do you benefit from? What special challenges do you struggle against? Has your experience of privilege changed as a result of your being trans or transitioning?

I benefit from a lot of privileges. I’m white, I’m middle-class from a well-off area in a well-off country, English is my first language, I’m university-educated and my schooling was also quite good. I’m financially comfortable even though I’m not working, because of my relationship, and my family has been financially comfortable for almost all my life, including being able to financially support me even as an adult when I needed it, and helping me build up savings with a combination of gifted money and advice/access. I did most of my transition in a country where it is very easy indeed to legally change ones name and gender marker, and where almost all medical transition steps are available for free if you go through the NHS. It was legal for me to access private gender clinics, and I had the financial resources to do so. When I moved to a country with more gatekeeping, my GP was sympathetic and the clinic psychologist knew my diagnosing doctor personally. I live and have lived in countries where transphobia is largely considered impolite and it is largely considered ok to be trans.  I’m binary, I appear able-bodied (though I do have an invisible disability in the form of chronic illness, which is currently well controlled by medication, though it has been very, very dangerous in the past), I can mask my autism well enough to be unremarkable (and never got a formal diagnosis I’d have to disclose, which is a double edged sword: I wish I’d had support as a child, for example), I’m pretty good at constructing a persuasive argument, at interpreting bureaucratic language, at keeping track of paperwork. I pass. My family, partner, and friends have been supportive of my transition. I had the financial resources to get top surgery privately, and the social bonds that people helped me recover. I had hysto in a country where it’s free (or, well, 100kr per day that you stay in hospital, which is pretty cheap). Almost all doctors and nurses speak English, as well as most other people I encounter in Sweden. Having experience of formal education helped me pass Swedish language exams more quickly. 

However, being seen as a man was still a massive change. I no longer experience street harassment. I very rarely experience unwanted flirting, condescension, dismissal, subtle threat. My appearance is not scrutinised to the same degree. I went from “very overweight, we don’t make those clothes” to “kinda soft average, medium” without changing weight at all. People listen to me. People speak to me as an equal.  I can just exist. 

Nevertheless, I am disabled. I am queer, and in a queer relationship. I am autistic .I am unemployed with little work history and not enough savings to live on for long. I may never be able to afford lower surgery. Doctors are sometimes suspicious of people with multiple diagnoses. I am an immigrant who will likely be an immigrant forever, who will probably never again live in my home country, never again be unconditionally part of the society even if I gain citizenship, forever go through life imperfectly speaking a second language I fear I may never be fluent in. I am precariously dependent on one romantic relationship, which if it ends, ends my right of residence in this country. My male privilege is also conditional: if someone hostile finds out that I am trans, I am subject to all the risks that attend women plus all the risks that attend trans people. Even neutral people may stop considering me a man, with the associated loss of privilege and risk of spreading the word to hostile people. There are many countries and areas of the world that I will never be able to visit, either because my presence is actually illegal there or just because it’s very unsafe indeed.


Day 19: Talk about the future. How are you planning to spend TDOV? How about the rest of the year? Do you have long term plans?

I don’t have any plans for TDOV. I’ll probably wish trans friends a happy one. I do have long-term trans-relevant plans: my genderqueer partner and I are planning to get married (and invite our trans social circle, among others), and once I get EU citizenship we’re planning to move country, to be closer to our friends (some of whom are trans), other members of our polycule (some of whom are trans), and a more vibrant queer social scene (among other advantages,  like a reasonable response to the pandemic). It seems like every queer person tries to move to Berlin at some point in their lives and this is ours. We’re really lonely in Sweden. For this year, everything’s vague because of the pandemic, but I’m hoping to get to visit friends a couple of times, family too,  try to meet up with local people a bit more, and get revisions for the minor dog-ears at the sides of my chest scars. If this is the last year we live here, too, I want to grow a really nice balcony garden and travel around the countryside a bit, looking at art and nature.


Day 20: Talk about deadnaming and misgendering. Has this ever happened to you? How did you deal with it? How did it affect you?

One of the great things about moving abroad immediately after changing my ID documents is that no-one in this country (apart from my partner) knows what my old name used to be, and there's no record of me as female here at all. One of the great things about being four years into transition is that everyone and everything important has been informed of my new details, therefore anything using the old ones can be deprioritised and discarded as unimportant. Another is that I have a lot of emotional distance from my old name. I don't have an instinctive response to it anymore, and sometimes struggle to remember what it was.

That being said, I do recall a few instances of misgendering: Very early in transition, one friend kept using my old name and pronouns, saying that it was unconscious slips. I told him it was unacceptable, it had been months and everyone else we knew including both his cohabiting partners used my new details consistently. I suspect he'd been attracted to me and wanted to continue seeing me as female. Some years later, while updating my old school exam certificates, a customer service representative made a point of addressing me by the details he knew full well were being removed from the records. I was furious, escalated to a supervisor, and got an apology. Later still, my racist aunt took exception to a very bland social media post expressing my support for the black lives matter moment and dug up my old email address to send racist propaganda articles, then used my old name to demand my mother get me in line. I cut contact with her, and am more pissed off about my family's desire to rugsweep the racism part of the revelation that she's a horrible person than the transphobia, which is just kinda spiteful and pathetic. There was also an instance of my bank having accidentally recorded a Mx title for me that I was surprised to be annoyed by: I think I perceived it as their not taking my transition seriously, going for hedging compromises instead of actually changing my details in their system. Generally I feel fairly secure in my privileges to allow me to demand better when misgendered. It makes me feel vulnerable and sick and that turns into anger, so at least I try to use it to insist they correct the problem. 

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Day 11: Talk about expression and presentation. Do you present as your identified gender? Do you use cosmetics? Do you use scented products? Do you wear jewellery or other accessories? Which rack do most of your clothes come off of? Do you take any special measures with regard to body, facial, or head hair? Have you faced any particular challenges related to your gender expression or presentation?

Yes, I present as a guy full-time, in every aspect of my life. 

I do not wear make-up, which I’m delighted about after a radical change from wearing makeup literally every day in all situations from age 11 to 26. It’s very freeing. I thought I might like to wear guyliner sometimes, but I don’t, and once or twice have used concealer on a spot for the length of a photo. I wear nail varnish sometimes, pretty much entirely because I enjoy the colours and like to have them close at hand (ha) where I can admire them throughout the day. It’s not about presenting to anyone else.  I do enjoy scented products, mostly shower gel and face wash but sometimes solid perfume. I refuse to use 3-in-1 style products partially because I am an adult with standards, who likes and is able to be a bit fussy, partially because I genuinely like experiencing several different products with different scents. My partner makes me beard balm with essential oils, which is fantastic. Everyone with a beard should oil it, it makes it so much softer, smoother, less itchy and more styleable. Recently I’m wearing orange and cedarwood, but I won’t shut up about how much I liked the smokiness of one batch which had birch tar.

I wear jewellery occasionally, usually capturing a goth aesthetic which I don’t tend to commit to in my everyday clothes. I buy clothes exclusively from the men’s section, and love it. They’re soft, thick, substantial, plain, no gathers or frills or viscose or elastic. They don’t dig in or itch or pinch or rub or ride up, they have pockets, they survive the laundry and my thighs and the basic endeavour of moving around, which you’d think would be basic but no-one’s told womens’ clothing designers that.

I am quite particular about my haircut, which also isn’t anything exciting (shaved sides and back, a few cm longer on top, undercut not fade or blend) but barbers seem to just give everyone who sits down the same style no matter what they say, so my partner and I cut each other’s hair. They’re great at it and I’m enjoying getting more confident. I trim my moustache about once a week, and my beard every couple of months, shaving the neck and cheeks to keep it neat every other day. I grow my body hair out because I  love being a bear. 

I have faced people who were surprised that I present as masculine, that I don’t feel any particular urge to do or wear feminine things, that I wear men’s clothes and have body and facial hair. I’ve also faced people who were surprised by the nail polish. In both cases, that’s their problem. They’re projecting things onto me that have more to do with them than with me. I’m just going to get on with my life.


Day 12: Talk about other trans people in your life. Have you met any other trans people? Do you have any trans friends? How have you helped each other?

I have a lot of trans friends, many of them met pre-transition. I met them through my university’s LGBTQ society and through the kink scene. I’m grateful for the example of those who transitioned before me, and commiserated over name change wrangling with those who transitioned around a similar time. I owe a lot to two particularly close nonbinary friends who listened to me freaking out while I was coming to terms with my gender and talked with me about their experiences of medical and legal transition. Now that I’m later in transition, I like to try to offer advice to people earlier in their journey, mostly strangers on facebook and discord. 

I know a lot of trans people who aren’t pursuing medical or legal transition, nor wider social transition apart from among close friends. I know plenty of trans people who are pursuing those things but with totally different goals, priorities, choices, pacing than me. I have transfeminine friends who I’ve swapped clothes with, pleased that the things we don’t want anymore can bring another person joy.  It’s important to remember how our needs and experiences vary, even though we’re all part of the same community.  


Day 13: Talk about music, art, writing, and other forms of creativity. What do you create? Do you include trans themes in your creations? Does your creativity help you with any trans issues?

I do not! I occasionally write fanfiction (like, one story per five years) and some of that includes a trans headcanon, but generally it’s very rare for me to want to do that. I bake and I make little silicone knicknacks, but have never felt the slightest desire to include trans themes somehow in that. I’m not a fan of the colour scheme (too pastel), and it’s just not my thing. 


Day 14: Talk about traditional media. Have you been influenced by trans themes in the media? Have you had to correct misinformation about trans people that others got from the media?

My initial reaction was that I prefer not to consume trans media, as I often find it either wrong, cringe-inducing, or both, as even the accurate by-trans-people-for-trans-people stuff speaks to views and experiences that I do not share and it’s a common phenomenon that things that are nearly right are more jarring than things that are wholly removed from one's own experiences… but actually, I do find some trans media compelling. 

I watched and cried at the documentary Disclosure, and recommended it to my family (my mother assumed that when I said “netflix documentary” I must mean the 90s erotic thriller, wow). The youth have an embarrassment of riches, they really don’t understand that when I was young, there was nothing in terms of queer media, we had to glean scraps. How could I be influenced by such tiny drips of information? In terms of scraps, there was Max on The L Word (which I managed to pirate once I got to university), Dax on Star Trek with a certain interpretation, Mulan and Alanna of Trebond and suchlike, a rubbish YA novel called Warriors of Alavna. Now there’s so much more, in a wide range of genres. I tend to prefer them a bit removed from real life: I love a book of short stories called Beyond Binary, the trans characters in Ann Leckie’s gods series, Krem in Dragon Age, Casey and Ethan in a series of delightful werewolf erotica novels by Dessa Lux, the geologist side character in KJ Charles’ Band Sinister. 

I find that real-world depictions lean too heavily on the experiences of American teenagers for me.  I strongly dislike the trans character in Dream Daddy: there is no reason that an adult man, living as male full-time for years, with a job (and a physical job, at that), house, and grown child would still be putting himself through the significant physical pain and daily life restrictions of binding instead of having had top surgery. It’s a cis person’s idea of “representation”, a  poorly-thought-out symbolic gesture devoid of context. 

I’ve had to correct information that other trans people got from the media, depressingly. Mostly about UK paperwork, mostly that it’s less onerous than they expected, sometimes also about common effects of T (why they’re asking social media instead of their doctors or reading the label I do not know). I don’t know where cis people get their misinformation, to be honest -I certainly don’t recall any media that states that trans people get all their surgeries at once, immediately upon coming out, while isolated from society and then change their name as the final step in the process, but a bizarrely high number of people seem to believe it.


Day 15: Talk about social media and online gaming. How have people reacted to your being trans online?

They haven’t, honestly. A twitter community that I’m loosely part of has been supportive when I mention trans things, and has a few other trans members. I don’t tend to engage with strangers on twitter or facebook, nor post much on tumblr. I don’t really chat with other players in MMOs, and never used voice chat anyway. It has given me complex feelings about playing customisable characters of any gender, honestly. I almost exclusively interact with other trans people on discord. I made a whole new facebook account and allowed my old one to go inactive, finally deleting it after retrieving all the photos and other data last year. There were a couple of weird interactions there, actually -some people continued sending birthday messages to both accounts (weird, but I assume they weren’t paying attention when they did so) or exclusively to the old account, which I was surprisingly hurt by. Sometimes it was just a mildly funny indication that the news hadn’t propagated or that I didn’t really know this person, but a couple of times it was people I used to be close to, former housemates, people I still considered friends though we’d drifted apart. It was sad to realise that while I viewed their updates warmly, they didn’t even know I existed.  

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Day 6: Talk about relationships. Do you have anyone special in your life? Have your relationships been affected by your being trans?

I am in a polyamorous relationship, engaged to my nesting partner, not currently dating anyone else (though my partner is, and my metamors are delightful). We're both bi, and were surprised by how little impact my transition had (turns out hairy tits are not actually a big deal, though the extra libido was very fun). Their family did throw a fit though.

One of the reasons I hesitate about dating (apart from being immunosuppressed in the pandemic, being a massive shy introvert, slow to warm up to people, and pretty romance-saturated with my partner) is fear of navigating transphobia. I worry about my dysphoria flaring up, about being judged on conforming or breaking stereotypes, about not being very confident topping but struggling to find tops, about having to have conversations about my body and identity over and over again every time I meet someone new, about the hassle of being a man seeking women or a short fat man seeking men. Maybe these wouldn't actually be a big problem in real life! We'll see when the pandemic is better.


Day 7: Talk about children. Do you have any? Do you want to be a parent? Do you face any challenges to your desire or lack of desire for children? How have you worked against those challenges?

I have never wanted children, nor enjoyed spending time with them or found then cute. I also discovered in my early 20s that I have a health condition which means my life would be at risk if I attempted to carry but the medications that would allow me to survive cause serious defects, so I'm glad I never found the prospect even faintly appealing. One of the reasons I got a hysterectomy was to utterly remove the possibility, and that did indeed bring me a surprising measure of peace and security. As I transitioned, the social expectation that I like children and orient my life around them has decreased dramatically, which I'm very happy about. Prior to transition, I faced a lot of pushback on this topic, consistently, my entire life, in all areas of life, from almost every person who ever mentioned the topic. This is another way in which men can be unremarked-upon and their preferences given more weight. Interestingly, since the hysto, my revulsion towards children has lessened, which I attribute to my subconscious considering the prospect less of a threat. I'm happy that I can now tell people I'm sterilised without outing myself, too.


Day 8: Talk about support. Who in your life has helped you? Have medical and mental health providers served your needs? Have lawmakers in your jurisdiction worked to protect you?

The countries I've lived in do have trans protection laws and trans healthcare, both of which I've benefited from. I'm enormously glad that I began my transition in a position where I could access private care (through GenderCare, specifically, who I have no complaints of, everything ran smoothly and every professional I've been in contact with was fantastic), since the NHS waiting lists are years long and the Swedish trans healthcare situation is horrifyingly even worse. I'm also very glad that doctors bent the rules for me: when I arrived in Sweden, my first GP continued all my prescriptions without question, instead of stopping them until I could be re-assessed; my previous endocrinologist continued checking my blood tests for a few months while I was in-between the two systems, and the psychologist at the swedish clinic decided that since he knew and trusted the professional judgement of the doctor who first diagnosed me, he could skip a step to speed up the process of allowing me continued care. (Of course, going through months of waiting only to be sternly asked about which toys I played with as a child for re-diagnosis, as someone fully legally transitioned, on T, and with top surgery booked, was an absolute farce. It's hilarious now that I'm through it, nerve-wracking though the possibility of being denied continued care was at the time).

It is a deep failure of the system that we cannot as trans people be honest with the gender-specialist psychologists about our nuanced, messy, real experiences around gender because of their role as gatekeepers. I believe this actively makes the situation worse for everyone, and does the opposite of their stated intention of protecting future detransitioners. People learn to say whatever it takes to jump through the hoops and be granted the things they desperately want, so specialists never get an accurate picture of more complex desires and fears. Anyway, I arranged entirely separate therapy, provided free by the state in various forms, and it was mostly pretty useful.

My friends have supported me emotionally, my partner has been by my side all the way and cared for me after both top and hysto, and my family gave me the money for top and did their best to help me with that. I feel very loved.


Day 9: Talk about community. How are you treated by your local community? Do you participate in any online communities? How have they reacted to you being trans?

I'm part of a few trans facebook groups and a few trans discord servers. I also notice that a lot of writers and bloggers I've followed for years came out as trans, imagine that, people who relate to one another's thoughts having things in common. At this point, most of my social circle is lgbtq in some way.

The groups I prefer tend to skew older, 30s and up, and I participate most in trans-masc spaces rather than mixed trans spaces. One discord server in particular has a lot of level-headed people and it’s a fantastic community. I wish everyone could have as positive an experience with the spaces available to them.

I don't feel very comfortable participating in the women's spaces where I spent my youth anymore. I certainly still like the people and topics, but worry about their perception of me (either erroneously as a woman or as some weird creepy guy) and don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. This isn’t anything they’ve said, all on my side. Besides, I don’t move through the world as a woman anymore, so I can no longer relate to many aspects of their regular conversations.

My local community doesn't really exist. I'd say it was because of the pandemic, and that certainly had an impact, cutting off all loose bonds, gatherings, classes, hobbies, and people who turned out to either be anti-vaxers or have a very different risk profile to us, but the social isolation was a problem before that. It's being an immigrant in a reserved culture. One of the discords and some of the facebook groups are local-ish, too, and therefore mostly composed of teenagers in pain. Their situation under this healthcare system is genuinely awful, but there's also a cultural element of being incredibly self-effacing and conformist which I find baffling.


Day 10: Talk about employment and your career. What do you do to support yourself? Are you in a traditionally gendered field or occupation? How have your co-workers reacted to your being trans?

I'm unemployed! I'm studying a masters course, but my partner supports us both. I’m a house-spouse. The course is in a majority-female field (library science), but I'm not the only guy nor the only trans person in my classes. I'm not too worried about the gender balance of the field, I don't think it's likely to have a big impact on me.

In my previous workplaces, I didn't come out. The final one I was actively medically transitioning during, to no comment (but I think a frequent gay customer recognised me as a fellow gay, which, no matter how he read me, is a very fair assumption), but told them about my legal transition when I gave notice, in case of references. A coworker pressed for details, which I stonewalled ("just like this name better" kind of thing), thank goodness for non-confrontational people. The bosses had my back anyway: a few weeks beforehand, someone had been fired immediately for homophobia towards another staff member, and management all fell into the “nervous about being perceived as discriminatory” category.

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Day 1: Make yourself known. Tell the world your name, age, and how you identify. Post a picture of yourself.

Hi! I'm Leo, I'm 31, and I'm a trans man.


Day 2: Talk about your process of discovery and realisation. How did you come to understand yourself to be trans?

I can, if I want to for doctors and other gatekeepers, tell a true version of the story where as a child I always sort of hoped to grow up to be a man. That I was fascinated by stories in which a woman lived as a man, but reliably baffled and upset at the end when the characters came out as women. That I loved running around shirtless with the other neighbourhood kids and felt a sickening dread when I realised I wouldn't always be flat and sharp-angled. That I didn't have a choice other than dressing and styling as my parents chose, but saw myself more as a genderless being. That when I grew up, it took until my early 20s to learn that being trans was an option, but then my desire to transition became harder and harder to suppress, and I realised that while I could tolerate presenting feminine for short periods, it felt like sandpaper on my skin and I only ever felt at ease when presenting masculine.

There's also another true version of the story, where I connected to and was happy with my identity as a woman. Not just in the sense that feminism is important to me, but being in touch with my body, liking certain clothes, using the social roles to my advantage. In that version, my identity changed in my early 20s, and a teenage girl became a trans adult. The first time I met other trans people, upon joining the lgbtq society at university, I didn't really understand them, and it took a few years before different trans friends spoke about their dysphoria and something wrenched inside me, coming out twisted as the thought "but that's how I feel, too, and you don't see me transitioning. Wait, maybe I could."

There's a middle ground, also true, where as soon as I was able to choose clothes for myself I trended more and more butch, finding each step a revelation of joy and comfort (and not being freezing at any dressed-up social occasion, that was pretty fantastic too). That as I did so, I became aware of frustration arising from the gap in how I wished to come across and how I was actually perceived, because it's honestly incredibly difficult and rare for styling to outweigh body and face as gendered characteristics. That is, I craved to be "mistaken" for a guy. Another crack formed when a friend discussed admiring others' feminine energy and I felt a visceral rejection. I realised over time that not only was the presentation pendulum not swinging back to femme at all, but I was setting transition as a reward for myself, considering "ok, when I meet these milestones, I will contact my GP and ask to be referred. I don't deserve it yet, but in the future I can." If it's inevitable, then I may as well get on with it, considering NHS waiting times, so I talked to my GP, cried on a trans friend for an afternoon and then on my partner, and began trialling new names.


Day 3: Talk about coming out. Are you out? Who did you come out to first? How did people in your life react?

I am fully out as a man and with most new people I meet, actually stealth, which is distinct from being closeted. I came out to trans friends while I was in the process of exploration, then close friends and partners, then all friends at once when I'd settled on a course of action and new name. They were almost all happy for me, only one or two baffled and standoffish and bad at using the new name, though a few supportive friends, all women as I recall, were later really quite surprised to find out that I actually intended to medically and legally transition as well as socially.

I told family a bit later, shortly before I had a first appointment with the private gender clinic which would prescribe me testosterone. I thought they would appreciate a face to face conversation, so I told them over lunch when I was visiting for Easter, but I wrote down the main points I wanted to cover in advance and emailed it to them as we sat down. My brother was very calm and chill and supportive. My mother burst into tears, which she now utterly denies ever happened, and we had to go on a walk through the nearby woods to calm down. She seemed to take it on board, but a few weeks later announced that she was driving up to where I lived, on less than a day's notice, and spent more than six hours at my kitchen table tearily grilling me. My poor housemate. A large chunk of that time was repeatedly explaining the concept of bisexuality, which I suspect she still doesn't grasp. She denies that happened too. My father passed away a few years beforehand. I don't know how he would have reacted, but I know he would have loved me.

As far as coming out to organisations goes, I found that despite the UK's reputation, people were mostly just nervous about getting something wrong and it all went pretty smoothly. I do think it's a problem that some of the biggest hassles of transition are frontloaded, in that changing your name everywhere is a pain. I did choose not to come out at work until I gave notice, despite being on T, as the cis are largely oblivious even to things like voice breaking. I worked in retail and did not give a shit about any of these people so why bother. Even after coming out, I brushed off any questions. Anyway, then I moved to Sweden, having changed all my documents over, and though they largely perceived me as a teenage boy, I am now legally male to two governments and did not need to come out further.


Day 4: Talk about transition. Do you want to? What kind of progress have you made? How has the process affected your day to day life? Do you feel your transition is complete?

I consider myself post-transition, by which I mean that transition no longer occupies much of my time or resources, even though I do anticipate further steps. I've been on testosterone for about five years, got top surgery (DI) about three years ago, and got a hysterectomy about six months ago. All of these improved my life enormously.

I am seen as a guy in every part of my life, I have a lovely beard, tons of body hair, my hips vanished, I have blossomed into a bear and love how I look. It's shocking how much easier it is to move through the world as a man. You just get to be a neutral, unremarked-upon human. I don't think I've fully adjusted to that, which the pandemic isolation has not helped with.

I plan to get minor revisions for top this summer (dog ears, maybe nipple tattoos or similar), to make my chest absolutely perfect. I am also coming to realise that I do want phalloplasty, terrifying though it is to contemplate such a massive recovery period, but that's more of a ten-year plan than a near-future one.


Day 5: Talk about dysphoria. Do you experience dysphoria? How does it affect you? What things do you do to cope with it?

I do experience dysphoria, but not very frequently these days. I write that and then immediately remember all the little things that cause it, but it's still true. Pre-transition it was like a combination of a) wearing a really tight, itchy, uncomfortable item of clothing, so you can't move freely and it jabs you and tickles you and is always demanding a portion of your attention b) hearing your recorded voice played back- I don't sound/look like THAT, do I? I also experience it as avoidance or rejection. When I was figuring things out, I would get dressed by trial and error, picking up individual items of clothing to see whether my brain would go "NO" or allow it. That's still how I react to, say, mentions of my old name. I think that I'm more secure and it has no more power over me, but then I subconsciously avoid saying it if the topic comes up, no matter how it tangles my sentences in knots.

I rarely experience physical dysphoria anymore, but I do have some genital dysphoria. I like my body and those parts of it, but I pack most of the time, every day, occasionally even while sleeping. I find it quiets my anxiety, makes me feel secure and grounded.

I do experience euphoria! The first thing that comes to mind is my legs, I love having man legs so much. I love my beard. I love my singing voice. I love my shoulders, my flat chest, my arm hair. I love men's shoes, the thick fabric of men's clothes, men's scents. One of the great things about being trans is the opportunity to experience great joy in everyday moments.

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I enjoy fanfiction, but I am also in my 30s, and not infrequently find that I'm enjoying a work when suddenly it becomes apparent that the author is rather younger, as I'm slapped in the face with a truly wild take on aging, relationships, alcohol, jobs, and suchlike, as if stepping on a rake. I'm not going to explicitly name any of these, nor contact the authors in any way, as that would be staggeringly rude, but I am going to complain about these moments in the privacy of my own blog. I'm going to lightly anonymise the fics, canons, and characters, too, for the same reason.

One fic took the premise that a group of superhumans lived together, seperate from non-enhanced humans, and followed the adventures of a few humans who come to live with them, as well as the superhumans' increasing political power in their region. These superhumans live for centuries, aging very slowly, and have greatly enhanced strength, speed, and sensory perception. Very fun, although betraying an increasingly concerning attitude to colonialism, democracy, and dictatorships as the political plot goes on. What caused me to yelp aloud, page desperately through the remaining fic, comments, and author's blog for a more thought-out take on the implications, and vent at length to my spouse, though, was the complications implied by a plot point introduced largely for porn and as a haphazardly-reasoned fix-it, namely the idea that this superhuman quasi-immortality can be sexually transmitted via regular top-ups of bodily fluids. This is presented as cute, a revelation of uncomplicated joy, so that the central couple can remain together and will never have to face the inevitable aging and death of the non-enhanced human. It is nightmarish.

If any of the human-mutant couples ever go through a low-libido patch, or want to break up, or to seperate, or to spend more than a couple of weeks apart, say, travelling, working in different places, visiting family... they are facing the potential death of the human partner. One partner is held hostage in the relationship on pain of death, with the other partner their unwilling jailer. They have to fuck, in specific ways, on a specific schedule, whether they feel like it or not, for centuries, or die. The mutant character will never quite feel certain that their partner wants them, vs wants to remain young forever. The human partner will never quite feel that their place in the community is unconditional, vs bought with sexual availability. Neither of them can ever quite feel free to turn down sex. If they ever do break up, or cease/pause fucking, the human has to swiftly locate another lover from within the same community for their bodily fluids, or, again, age and die while their ex-lover, their friends, co-workers, family members, community remain unchanged. Physically unchanged, that is; it's made clear that the mutants find the prospect of this happening to their loved ones traumatic, and has led to at least one character isolating himself so as not to become emotionally involved with anyone mortal. There's a https://twitter.com/madsmiyun/ comic about an alien who needs cum to survive, which gets into the miserable mundanity and nihilistic fear that comes to accompany sex in that scenario. Furthermore, in this fic there is at least one human adopted child, who is obviously not fucking anyone. Upon reaching adulthood, she will face the choice to start fucking someone from the community that raised her, or age and die at a pace that her adoptive parents find horrifying.

So far, so horrific. But what the author means by aging is also quite naive. Specifically, human characters realise that they're reverting to the physical condition and appearence of their early 20s. Now, look. I remember being in my early 20s. I not infrequently meet and talk with people in their early 20s. That is not the universal peak human attractiveness phase. That is a slightly unfinished phase, where the lines of your adult face are starting to show through the teenage softness but you are still, to my eye, a very tall baby. That's partly why your metabolism is so different, why you can do way more stupid shit, eat and drink all manner of crap and go without sleep with comparatively minor penalties compared to later decades; you're still growing. Probably this is great for athletes, especially as you haven't much adult bulk to affect your flexibility, but mostly I remember athletic friends getting injured a lot, partly because they were all power but little support. You are not at peak physical condition, you're a kid. And hell, if I say this only a decade later, imagine how it looks to older adults. Similarly, I cannot imagine finding someone under 26 personally sexually attractive, which really casts creeps-of-my-experience and the general mainstream view of teenage female celebrities in a disturbing light. It is very easy to tell whether someone is a teenager, and absolutely repulsive to contemplate fucking them. I'm not, of course, saying that people under 26 shouldn't fuck each other, I also remember being that age and think it's perfectly normal and healthy, nor am I saying that age gaps are always inherently predatory. Perhaps, to an immortal being, a 22 year old and a 52 year old are both comparably remote in terms of life experience. It's odd, therefore, that the immortals tend to exclusively go for the younger ones. Anyway! Just as 20 year olds are babies, 40 year olds are not, in fact, withered crones. Part of the plot which reveals the sexually-transmitted immortality features a group of women in their 40s who realise they're not aging. They explicitly say that normally they would be anticipating retirement, and everyone agrees that they look totally different to other humans of a similar age. Have... have you ever met women in their 40s? Clearly you possess the internet and can look up images of various women in their 40s, 50s, 60s. They really, really do not look significantly decrepit compared to 20 or 30 year olds. Women in their 40s are, in my experience, powerful forces of nature and extremely hot. You do not have to de-age them to make them hot. You do not have to de-age them to make them professionally competent. This is like that star trek episode where they put dreadful aging makeup on Alexander Siddig, who, now that he is actually the age he was playing, has predictably continued to be an absolute fox (https://twitter.com/pencilscratchin/status/1231475180372885505). Besides, what of basic bodily autonomy? Causing people to regress into a barely-grown, rarely-taken-seriously state "for their own good" and presenting that as uncomplicatedly positive gives me the willies.

In a different fic, our protagonist, a responsible, somewhat dull man in his 30s, paused on his walk home one afternoon to stop at his local pub. There, he ordered a PINT of GIN, no mixer mentioned, drank it all, had a coherent conversation about his life, and walked home without incident feeling no more than tipsy. He was then launched into a Christmas Carol style AU of the life that could have been, but it was because of the conversation rather than the gin. A pint! Of straight gin! Seems like a totally normal thing that a bartender would give you! You'll go fucking blind like a 1800s satirical cartoon.

This fic also had odd ideas about sex and relationships: a married couple with a comfortable, happy relationship treated all kissing as a prelude to sex. Greeting your spouse at the door when they get home from work, heading out to a party together dressed up, waking up together in the morning; all these kisses were met with "wow, you're horny today, I don't have time/inclination to fuck right now". They weren't described as long or intense kisses, weren't even all on the mouth. The dismissive, shaming attitude towards physical affection that this betrays makes me sad. I kiss my partner dozens of times per day. Avoiding and lightly mocking your partner for a peck is not normal. I have a related rant about cultural sex negativity and the horny jail meme, but that's for another time.

Another character, single in his mid-late 30s, bemoaned that he lost the chance to have children long ago, it was too late for him, he would never be a father because now he was too old. This was treated not as the faintly ridiculous fear-airing of an emotional person who, for example, had recently had a breakup or disovered their medical infertility, but as the truth about a middle-aged avuncular figure who must learn to parent step-children if he's ever to experience that part of life, an object lesson about figuring out what you want from life while you're still in your 20s or early 30s. He later proposes marriage to a woman with whom he is no more than friends and has not spent one-on-one time with, this is treated as a normal way to conduct oneself, and she accepts.

One fic depicts characters in their early 20s in such a way that I am certain the author has recent lived experience, but it does not jive with my lived experience that they are drinking in literally every scene. Do people in their early 20s drink frequently and casually? Yes. Did I and my friends do so? Yes. Did almost every one of us have a realisation after an average of two years of doing this that we were actually not ok with our personal relationships with alcohol and decide to cut back, to a greater or lesser extent? Yes. These characters drink every time they hang out, fine, ok, it's a social occasion, though I'm still questioning bringing multiple bottles of wine to your friend's room on a weekday to hang out doing homework. They drink when they stop for lunch on a road trip, and then continue driving. They drink when they're alone, working through a bottle of spirits while getting some peace and quiet before starting on wine too. They drink every single time they meet another person, whether it's with their partners, with their friends, with the people they live with and with the people they see once a year. They drink on their lunch break at work, and their boss does not notice or care. They check in to a hotel, drink spirits while putting their bags away, then head down to the bar to continue drinking before dinner. I think it's likely that this author has yet to have that moment of introspection about alcohol's place in their life, and is still figuring out which settings and amounts are normal and acceptable.

This fic also contains the belief that non-penetrative sex is not sex, leading to the overwrought plot arc that a couple who have been fucking for months might make the step to Have Sex, and this would significantly and irrevocably change their relationship. Now, true, penetration can be a particularly intense and vulnerable experience on both sides, but in terms of how well you know one another? If you've been doing hands and mouths, you know what this person is like when they come, you know what it feels like to be inside them, you know how they react physically and emotionally in connection to sex. If you've been sleeping in the same bed, talking about intimate topics, learning what makes each other tick sexually and romantically, there is nothing to support the idea that penetration would change anything apart from virginity-loophole purity culture.

Lest this consist entirely of complaining, and prompt the question "why did you keep reading this stuff anyway?", all of these fics do have positive qualities and are mostly fairly well-written.

The one with the pint of gin has an affecting introspective take on how it feels to reorient your life from what you've been told to want to what you actually want, and uncover bursts of joy amid heartbreak. The one with the alcoholism has gripping intrigue and romantic plots, makes me nostalgic for the vivid depiction of spending time with friends in your early 20s, and powerfully describes the experience of being intensely attracted to someone. The one with the mutants has extremely funny comic interludes, a great take on a favourite topic of mine, that of the administrative skills, tasks, and bottlenecks required to manage a large group of people, and a subplot about a trans character coming to understand herself through years of attempting to repress her identity in various ways that rings very true.

They made me smile, they gave me hours of entertainment, they allowed me to consider interesting ideas and different perspectives. I believe that the authors are likely quite young and will improve with time. Goodness knows I wrote some rubbish when I was young, it's a normal and fine part of learning, and frankly it's impressive to finish long works and post them publicly. I nevertheless find the misconceptions jarring and prefer work by older authors.

Neighbours

Aug. 30th, 2021 08:18 pm
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There's a woman who lives opposite me, our blocks of flats facing each other across a courtyard, whose living room I admire greatly. She lives alone, and rarely shuts her curtains, so her home becomes a dollhouse of warm golden light in the evenings. It's neat, well-laid out, in bright colours and restrained style, clearly the unified aesthetic choices of someone pleasing herself first and foremost. She has friends over sometimes, and takes them out onto the balcony for breakfast or drinks or dinner. She grows a few plants there, but mostly puts the emphasis on cosy furniture and blankets.She reminds me of friends of mine, women who live alone, and what I admire in them. One of the great advantages of being over 30 is that you and most of the people you know, know themselves, their priorities, their preferences, what they cannot live without and what they simply do not care about (and are tired of pretending they do). To say that my friends are strong is a cliche. I admire their selfdetermination.

Above her live the Naked Neighbours, a young couple who keep their curtains closed almost all of the time but sometimes step out onto the balcony naked to fetch something, looking shifty and awkward. They also held parties during the pandemic, so fuck 'em. Above them live the People With The Beautiful Garden, where the roof bends to allow a tiny sheltered courtyard, painted blistering white and softened with planters and trellises and windowboxes full of greenery. There are strings of soft solar lanterns and a barbeque.  They tend their garden and have quiet family dinners when their grown children visit. This tiny rooftop garden was one of the first things I noticed when moving in, in the frozen dull muddy grey before Spring, and my hopes that the space was appreciated were richly rewarded. Below the Independant Woman lives the Best Dog In The World. I know nothing of the people, but this dog is a long-haired, short-legged Collie, a rectangle of silky fluff with a nose on the end. It is very stupid and very adoring and cannot quite jump high enough to get back in through the window it jumped out of, so has to beg the humans to come outside and open the courtyard door. It sometimes stares and sniffs at dogs and cats that pass on the street nearby. It is perfect.

I never lived alone. I lived with housemates, and then with partners. I sometimes get the house to myself for stretches of up to a week when our travel schedules don't line up, and I honestly contributed far more to our decorating choices, having stronger opinions and more knickknacks, but it's not the same as living alone. I sometimes wish I had. The theoretical ideal situation would be the famous setup of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, except that I love waking up together, bustling aorund together, taking care of chores for each other, the little incidental moments that make a life, make a relationship. However, when friends who live alone talk about the peace of knowing that everything in your house was put there by you, every aesthetic choice and dirty dish is yours alone, generated by you and your responsibility, I long for that. It's not that my partner is messy at all! It's just that we've been in small houses together for years now, and with the pandemic came constant togetherness. It made us closer, clarified some things we want out of our life, led to a deepening of an already deep understanding of one another, and also we're both humans who need space and privacy sometimes.
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Lately I've been watching the palace intrigue drama Nirvana In Fire! Some things I have enjoyed include:

-The master strategist, long presumed dead, returns to court, hidden behind three layers of secret identities, a bunch of sickly green facepaint, and a cunning plan! Instantly,
His Vassal: Oh hello boss! What the hell are you doing here?
His Ex:Of course I fucking recognise my own ex, do you think I'm a fucking idiot or something
His Granny: There you are dearie, have a sweet, why aren't you married yet
Our Hero: Can you people at least PRETEND to be fooled and impressed by my Mysterious Disguise, I am very smart and this is very discouraging

-How dare you insinuate that the noble princess got drunk as your cover for your scheme to drug her, the noble princess who is also a soldier drinks to excess FREQUENTLY and your passive-aggressive tea party cannot HOPE to match her regular habits

-Look, when we decided to hold a tournament and find the strongest men in the Empire, we didn't expect that any of them would be UNCOUTH. The very idea that a professional fighter might defeat people of ETIQUETTE and GROOMING in a simple combat competition has thrown us into quite the tizzy!

-Extended levitating scenes in which we are expected to believe that a) this is a fight b) momentum is only a property of those with insufficient willpower and poor manners c) the most highly prized fighting trait is efficiency, while all the camera cares about is style

-Why are my sons so scheming and pathetic, all I did was pit them against each other with mercurial displays of favour and explicit rankings, make the rankings a matter of life or death, give control of their education to their mothers whose entire lives are intrigue-based as a result of situational constraints, and have so many sons that I literally forget about the existence of some of them when they're not physically in front of me. Look, one left the room, who were we talking about?

-This man is obviously skeletal and deathly ill, as you can tell through the padded robes which everybody is wearing which utterly obscure his shape

The costumes are absolutely gorgeous, opulent fabrics in rich colours, thick with detail, layers upon layers creating massive structural creations which make sense of the body language required to manoeuvre in them and have your movements be visible. Every character's outfits make sense for their role, and also change for the situations they're facing. I'm also really enjoying the fancy hairdos, neat braids for the guys and fascinators fixed into the hair itself for the ladies. I'm always a sucker for worldbuilding and for detailed, stylised aesthetics, so this gives both at once!

There's pretty good diversity of female characters so far, too. Various diverse ways of being strong are shown, while the society is deeply patriarchal what that means for individuals varies -multiple women have respected jobs, others are quietly fighting for autonomy from within forced marriages, in both cases independence is explicitly conditional, and even the unsympathetic women are reacting understandably to their environment.

alpin: (bear)
Apparently I have a butt doppleganger. (Her partner was unable to distinguish between us from a partial view of said bodily area). She's reeeeaaally pretty, so that's both an amusing experience and a confidence boost.
alpin: (bear)
I have to take a whole bunch of medications, and as everyone knows the side-effects sheet is always baffling and terrifying. As a Dr once told me, you wouldn't even take paracetamol if you read the warnings all the way through. So I amuse myself by turning them into custom spells for DnD -it's come in handy a few times!

Round face: penalty to diplomacy checks. Whether this is because round faces are inherently less trustworthy or because the affected doesn't look like themselves is a matter of debate.

Sudden blindness: self-explanatory.

Muscle wasting: reduce con and str.

Hiccups: gagging effect on casters, useless on others.

Sedative: self-explanatory, save ends.

Ravenous hunger: if in combat, lose a turn while you eat/complain. If out of combat, reduce stores at twice normal rate.

Urge to move: In real life, restless leg syndrome. As a curse, depending on whims of DM, either break into dance or move 1d6 squares in a random direction, avoiding obstacles.

Orla The Overcautious: haunting, possibly on picking up a cursed item. Once acquired, whenever you perform an action a small Irish woman informs you that "That'll kill you, you know." Roll a d20 to see if she's right. If 1, HP=0. If 2-20, be smug. Numbers vary depending on sadistic urges of DM.

Vertigo: this would be straightforward except that the sheet explains it as "a sensation of spinning around". Character loses all sense of direction and moves randomly.

Bulbous skin reactions: well, that's just disgusting. Reduced cha and dex.

Flatulence: severely reduced cha.

Dysponoea: a really cool-sounding way of saying "difficulty breathing". High damage.

Fainting: During an encounter, each turn roll a d6 to see if you faint. If 1, faint for one round.

Hallucinations: should be plot-relevant.

Having feelings of being alone: this character is no longer aware of the other party members. Save ends.


I can't find a way to make "reduced/increased blood levels of blah" useful, alas.
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