In which I have some suggestions

Recently I've been getting a lot of unsolicited advice about my medical decisions, and it's reminding me of my experiences a couple years ago when I first considered becoming a little more butch, and my friends were deeply unhelpful. So I thought I'd put together a little guide to what I consider okay and not okay to say to a friend who is going through a life change.

It's okay to ask my how my transition is going! That's probably the way you should phrase it. This is a big part of my life, and one I don't have a lot of opportunities to talk about in detail - if you're genuinely curious, I'll probably appreciate the chance to talk about it.

It's not okay to give me advice on my transition, unless I've directly asked for it. Even if we're already talking about transitioning in general, it's just weird for you to start giving me medical advice. And if your advice is "wait until you're sure," it's not just weird, it's rude and hurtful. It's not like I'm going to drop by the mastectomy store and get my tits lopped off on a whim, like somebody getting a misspelled Chinese tattoo after a night out drinking. "Wait until you're sure" almost always means "wait until I am okay with it," which in turn pretty much means "wait forever." And that's not okay.

Along the same lines, don't suggest alternatives to transitioning. This one really baffles me - you're really not very likely to be suggesting something new. Or, if you do find something I haven't tried before, there's probably a reason I haven't considered it. For example, a well meaning friend suggested yoga to me, as an alternative to top surgery. It's true, I haven't tried yoga! And maybe I could learn to transcend my body. But, it's not like it will make my tits invisible - I'd have to keep binding, or people would still be calling me ma'am. "Try herbal tea before you try testosterone" is just another way to say "wait until I am okay with it," only it involves even less respect for my intelligence.

But, it's okay to ask me to answer your questions. Note the phrasing: please don't just start the conversation with "how do trans people have sex?" - start by asking me if I'll answer questions, and understand that I may not always be in the mood to do so. Also please make sure that your questions are actually questions - "Why not try hypnotism?" is just advice with a question mark on it. But in general, I want to help people understand. As long as you're making an effort, I'm not going to be offended that you don't know something, and I'd much rather have the chance to tell you than leave you in the dark.

It's not okay to mess up my pronouns. Yeah, when I correct you I'll probably tell you that it's okay, that I know it takes time to get used to it -- but what I really mean is that it's not okay, but I've forgiven you anyway. If you're having a really hard time, practice. I'm an understanding sort of person, but it hurts when you make a mistake, every single time. And I'm getting tired of pretending that it doesn't.

And finally, the most widely-applicable piece of advice: if I know I want to do something awesome, but I tell you I'm nervous about it, back me up. If I hadn't had so many people tell me not to cut my hair, I probably would've gotten a buzz cut at 15 and never looked back. Instead, I spent years going from waist-length, to shoulder-length, to chin-length, to a little bob, to a pixie cut - and at each stage, everybody I asked said I shouldn't do it. In retrospect, I'm a little disappointed in the sheer number of people who should have known better who reinforced mainstream expectations of femininity. People who never wore heels, or skirts, or jewelry, or makeup, or contacts, etc. nonetheless told me that I should keep wearing these things, even when I confessed that I hated them, because they made me so pretty. "Conforms to societal expectations" is not always the most important requirement for your friends' personal choices. Come on, be more awesome than that! Do things just because they're fantastic, and encourage your friends to do the same.

Anyway, because I'm in a little bit of a "trans 101" mood with this post, now is a great time to ask questions! You can argue with me, I guess, or ask anything that's been on your mind regarding trans issues. I'm pretty much never going to be offended by a question that's asked out of genuine curiosity, so don't be shy!

In which I don't want to talk about my feelings any more

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym not their full name (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

Hey there. So, last week I came out to one of my professors. I also got called ma'am approximately eighty-four thousand times. And I confirmed with my mom that next weekend we're gonna go to DC for several days of solid "girl time." So, last week, I was exhausted; this week, I just have nothing more to give.

So, rather than rely on my utterly-depleted emotional resources for a post, I'm just gonna fact-dump on you and talk about binding. I assume somebody will be interested, anyway; I feel like a lot of people want to know The Details but very few ask. Caveat: this is very much about my experiences. I'm pretty sure things are a little different for everyone.

The first time I bound my breasts, it for Hallowe'en. My senior year, my gay ex-boyfriend was Belle, my best friend (female) was the Beast, and I was Gaston. My girlfriend helped my best friend and I bind in the morning before school, with duct tape. The critical thing with duct tape is not to put it directly on your skin! We took control-top pantyhose and cut off the legs and crotch, and used the waist part as a sort of tube-top. Then, starting at the top, we wrapped the tape around and around over top of the hose. I actually just stood there with my arms up and let my girlfriend do all the work, because I wasn't exactly shy about having her touch my breasts; I think I got much better results that way, because I didn't have to worry about twisting around and potentially dislodging things.

The results were quite good, and not too uncomfortable-- while they lasted. Duct tape, it turns out, doesn't exactly breathe! I started to sweat underneath the binder, and the whole tube started to work its way lower and lower on my torso. Suddenly, in the middle of Scripture class (really!), my boobs popped free over the top of it, and I had to sit through the rest of the class with a duct tape tube hanging loosely around my waist and bare breasts jiggling under a flimsy shirt. Luckily, I had lent my ex-boyfriend one of my bras to hold his fake breasts, so I didn't have to go the rest of the day bra-less, but I did still have to get the binder off. Which meant... cutting it off. I had to borrow some heavy-duty scissors to have a hope of cutting through the multiple layers of duct tape, and it was still a slow and sticky process. A slow, sticky, process happening immediately next to my skin. And my boobs. For that reason alone I could never recommend binding with duct tape regularly: when the scissors get stuck in the tape, and you're trying to force them out, there is no safe course of action. You just have to be lucky.

I tried Ace bandages next, the three-inch-wide ones that I already owned due to my weak ankles. This was years later, and I was binding in order to explore my own gender identity. I was never satisfied enough with the results to leave the room with them on, though, so I ordered a binding shirt from Underworks. The first one I got was basically just a long tank top made of nylon and spandex, and I really liked it. To put it on, I have to step into it like it was a skirt and then work it up my body (it's really right!). It's an awkward process but eventually I'm able to put my arms through the straps and then reach into the shirt to arrange my boobs. The compression is really powerful and the shirt smooths everything out and doesn't show under clothes, so I really love it.

At least, until it starts to roll up... the bottom of the shirt is supposed to be near my hips, tucked into my pants, but dude pants aren't exactly tight around the hips so the bottom often rolls up to my natural waist. The thick roll of bunched-up shirt is quite tight and uncomfortable, and I always feel like it emphasizes my natural hourglass shape. (If you've ever seen me fidget with my shirt a lot, or "go to the bathroom" several times for extremely short trips, I am probably trying to fix this. It hurts!)

Sometimes to pre-empt this problem, I put the shirt on and then immediately pull the bottom of the shirt up to my chest (as if I were going to turn the shirt inside out and take it off) and wear it with two layers over my chest. I feel like it's hard to describe-- I roll the bottom up over the main shirt, so the hem is at my collarbone. Of course, from this position it can slide down, bringing me back to the same situation as before, but I find it easier to tug it back into place before catastrophe strikes when it's doubled up.

The best solution to the rolling problem, though, is the version of this shirt with little shorts attached to the bottom. I step into it and pull it on the same way, but because the bottom is actually attached to something that can't move, there's no rolling. There's no need to fidget with it, so it's so comfortable I forget I'm wearing it at all... until I have to pee. To go to the bathroom, I have to undress completely. This is extra-annoying if I am wearing a suit. So many layers! It gets in the way of enjoying myself because I'm always worrying about whether or not I'm going to need to pee.

I've been getting more frustrated with my Underworks shirts lately, and less willing to put up with their drawbacks. So one night, when I'd left both binding shirts at my girlfriend's by mistake and needed to wear a suit, I tried binding with the Ace bandages again. Unexpectedly, I was really happy with the results.

I used two three-inch-wide, several-yard-long bandages of quite nice quality. (Most transmen online recommend six-inch-wide bandages but I'm using ones that I already had for my ankles.) Starting as high as possible, and pulling tight, I wrap them around my torso. I don't wrap too far past the end of my boobs (which about where my ribs end, thanks to the squish factor) and when the second bandage runs out, I tuck the end up underneath the bottom of the binding. I've never had a problem with the bandages slipping down like the duct tape or rolling up like the binding shirts, but I trade those for the problem of... potentially causing myself serious harm. I'm pretty sure men have actually fractured their ribs, binding too hard with Ace bandages. To reduce the risk, I breathe in deeply before I start wrapping and try to keep my chest expanded the whole way through. I also make sure not to pull the bandages to the very tightest they can go. It can sometimes be uncomfortable, and look lumpy under a thin shirt (especially if I'm sloppy), but with the multiple layers of a suit it doesn't show very much and I've grown to like it, because it's not fidgety and it doesn't make me feel like my entire body is encased in a cocoon.

I'm gonna go ahead and open the comments section up to all your questions, especially any you might have about the practical aspects of transition. If you're curious about transwomen, my girlfriend has agreed to answer questions as well. And if you're embarrassed, you can always comment anonymously! I love to hear from you.

In which I talk about some terms

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym not their full name (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

Well, I'm absolutely exhausted by finals already, how about you? I've been trying to write a complicated, personal post about how I related to the female persona that I still live as much of the time, but, um, it's complicated! And personal! And I am absolutely exhausted by finals already! So instead, I thought I'd take a moment to define the way that I use some trans-related vocabulary, and open the post up to questions again, since there seemed to be a lot of interest in that last time.

So, here's how I use these words:

Cisgendered: basically, not transgendered. Your gender identity matches up with your genitals without assistance.

Passing: This can be a problematic concept. To say that a transman is able to "pass for" a man would suggest that he isn't a man, which is just blatantly transphobic. So, I tend to think of it as passing for a cisgendered man. In practical terms it's pretty much the same-- the idea is that people don't know you're trans-- but I find "passing for cis" much less problematic.

Closeted: Because I am a transman, I am closeted when I tell people I'm a woman. Being in the closet means lying.

Out: Because I am a transman, I am out when I tell people I'm a transman. Being out means telling the truth.

Stealth: Because I am a transman, I am stealth when I tell people I'm a man. Being stealth also means telling the truth. I kind of don't like the word stealth, because it sounds a little pejorative but I don't think it's necessary at all to tell people you're trans once you've transitioned. I have a problem with being closeted, because I have a problem with lying, but being stealth is totally different. Trans lurkers out there: do you know any terms for this that are less judgmental-sounding?

And now you know enough to learn something new about me: I am out as much as possible because I don't pass for cis well enough to be stealth, and I hate the closet!

I hereby open the comments section up to any and all questions once more. Also, if you want to ask me something personally (or if you're in any way gender-non-conforming and just want to hang out!!) please feel free to email me at lawrenceevalyn at gmail dot com. I'd love to hear from you!

In which I do not discuss the many awesome parts of my vacation, in favor of whining

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

And now we discover the danger of assigning me to Saturday mornings: I like to sleep in late. Especially when I'm feeling a little unhappy.

Luckily, though, I bring a revelatory insight: the closet sucks, y'all.

At Duke I generally don't tend to feel closeted, because at Duke I don't actually pretend I'm a girl. I just don't always correct people when they make the wrong guess. It's not exactly comfortable, but who really expects to be their most genuine, authentic self in Chemistry class? And if the wrong guesses start to get to me, I can just talk to a friend (or my girlfriend) to get called the right name, or bind for the day, and I feel better. It's not my fault people don't see the obvious, so it's not really the closet.

No, the closet is when I encourage people to misgender me. Which is... this weekend. My mom likes me to bring laundry when I come home (seriously, if I don't she'll complain that I don't need her any more and spend the vacation trying to bury me under cups of tea) but I could only bring my girly laundry. So, today my mom asked why I brought thirty pairs of underwear, ten shirts, and some pajamas-- "You do... wear pants, don't you?"-- and I told her yet another half-truth: "The laundry was all over my room, so I only grabbed some of it." Sure, I heavily implied that the selection was random, when in reality I obsessed over every article of clothing to make sure it conformed appropriately to her standards (that is, I checked everything for rainbows before putting it in the suitcase) but it wasn't technically a lie.

The rest of it is lies, though. Lies, lies, lies. I think this is the heaviest irony of trans life: you know how people generally imply that trans folks are lying about their gender? Like, the "trans panic" defense, used (successfully, alas) in so many murder trials: "when I found out it was really a man, I just had to kill it!" Or, the murder mystery I watched with my mom last night-- "it turns out he was really a she!" There's the transphobic idea that the gender you were assigned at birth is your real gender, but there's also this idea that if you say you're anything else, you're lying and deserve what's coming to you. Well, I do feel like a liar, all the time-- when I tell people I'm not a man.

I'm not a religious person even a little, but I have a strong sense of honor. I hate lying.

Part of it is that I'm not a very good liar, so to maintain the facade I have to forget the truth a little. I grew so accustomed to the facade that I showed the rest of the world that I actually had no idea what was underneath until this semester when I decided to drop it. (Turns out: there was a man under there! Other than that, pretty much the same.) But I've always had a special facade for my parents. I wasn't just their daughter, I was the daughter they always wanted-- which means, I was straight, I was femme, I didn't curse, I didn't drink, I definitely didn't have sex, I wasn't a feminist, I wasn't an activist, I wasn't an atheist... I got to be a geek, but that was pretty much it, in terms of resemblance to my actual self.

And today, right now-- that's who I am! Sure, I've holed myself up in my room to write this, but I'm wearing pearls. It's only been a few days but I already feel like my sense of identity has been eroded away. (Not just my gender identity-- my whole identity.) I called my girlfriend last night-- from inside a literal closet, with three closed doors between my and my family-- just to hear her say my name. My real name. Which is Lawrence.

So, to remind myself who I am for the rest of the weekend, I open the comments up to all your Trans 101 questions. Just call me by my name, my real name, and I'll answer anything you want to know. Don't worry about dumb questions, personal questions, or even unintentionally offensive questions-- I did a lot of 101 in my lesbian days and I know what I'm signing up for. If you're nervous, that's what anonymous comments are for.

So ask away! I think it'll help both of us.