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There’s a line early in Detransition, Baby about the armour of masculinity. Specifically about missing that armour after transition. That phrase - and that concept - has been caught in my consciousness lately.
I think I want to write about it, but maybe not yet.
I think I want to write about it, but maybe not yet.
It’s interesting how often people insist I look happier in photos since transition. The reasons suggested for this are often well-meaning but off the mark. It’s not primarily because my body is running on different hormones, or because I’m deeply happy about having transitioned..
There’s a pretty simple explanation: I’m living in a role in which emotional openness is allowed. I can take a selfie now. I can look *really happy* in that selfie. I can look sultry in that selfie. I can look pretty in that selfie...
For better or worse, I am living as someone whose gender is commonly described as “too emotional.”
Does estrogen make it easier for me to cry? Honestly, I kinda doubt it. Maybe ever so slightly.
But is it more ok for me to cry than it has ever been? Absolutely...
Does estrogen make it easier for me to cry? Honestly, I kinda doubt it. Maybe ever so slightly.
But is it more ok for me to cry than it has ever been? Absolutely...
Sometimes, when I’m fretting about something that would’ve just rolled off my back pre-transition, I think how it’d be nice to be out of touch with my emotions again. To just embrace indifference again. To be living with different expectations when it comes to emotional labour.
I haven’t put it in these words, but I’ve often described coming out to yourself as an opening of Pandora’s box. Once you’ve stopped repressing The Big Thing, it’s like the repression center of your soul is permanently weakened...
When the dam breaks, its broken. That comes with a lot of fresh vulnerability.
