how I am a coward

(and also probably a shitty person)

"I wonder sometimes if it doesn't take amazing moral courage to make a decision you know is wrong. I don't mean stealing, or something like that, but looking at a decision that you know isn't right, and choosing it."
-my insight provider

I've fucked about with hormones for years now, but been under actual medical supervision for a bit over two, maybe two and a half years. This was intended, not to make me a 'girl' or 'woman', but to get me out of the hellish there that was where I was, and get me closer to somewhere better, if not good. So let's look at things. In that time, I've gained about twenty pounds, which I attribute to the hormones; I've been perpetually thin, often too thin, all my life up to then, regardless of diet or activity level. While some of the physical changes are what I wanted and was aiming for, the overall effect has been fucking alienating. I've got boobs, which I wanted, and like, but at what cost? I worry constantly about exposure, of slipping into freak country, because the simple truth is that hormones will not lead anyone to think I'm anything other than a 'man' who's fucked about with 'his' body. This isn't biology; it's how meaning is sorted, assigned and interpreted, and every fucking one of you is party to this. Fuck, I am, too; even knowing the dangers, I can't help but collaborate in my own oppression. If I hate you all just a little bit for this (and let's be honest, I do), I hate myself for it more.

I have less social, interpersonal and bodily comfort, not more. There is no easing of internal to external pressure based on the statistical experience of having people assign and treat me more like I want, or at least less like I don't like; there is only the same steady pressure of historical misassignment, compounded by the fear of exposure. I have no community of fellow travelers, which I guess isn't so much of a negative change as a reinforcement of starting position, though this is a fall based on hopes I'd had. Mtf folk tend not to want to be around me; I make them uncomfortable, probably because I don't hew to the life or death party line. Oh, and the yelling at them.

I can't be a man. I've tried it, and even from my bad faith efforts, I know it's not for me, on a fundamental level. I can't, and don't want to be, a woman; having experienced one side of the prison, why the fuck would I want to change wings? It's more than just the cost, which would be damagingly high to me; again, on some ontological level, it's antithetical. 'But Adrien, why don't you just be yourself?' asks the colonial voices, mirroring the same damned thing I've heard from real flesh and blood people for years and years. My answer to that? Fuck you, you lazy, unimaginative privileged fuck. If you can't imagine every minute of every social moment being tinged with inescapable pain and anxiety, with no clear way out, not even the hint of options, but the persistent and stupid need/desire to keep on, keep looking, keep trying despite the pain, then sit the fuck down and shut the hell up, and don't you fucking tell me how it's what you do, because I don't believe you.

So I asked my insight provider, 'Are you accusing me of a lack of moral courage?'

'Oh no, quite the contrary. I think you have a lot of courage, which is what's building up to you doing just that, making a wrong choice.'

'Even in the face of the fact that I don't choose, that I resist choosing, and that unless I can find a better option, I'm going to keep doing that?'

'Well, I don't think you can keep doing that.'

I've got a lot of anger, and it seems to be getting bigger, growing hotter as it expands, not smaller. I've got a lot to be pissed off about, but fuck, I don't want to be anger powered. It seems like it doesn't matter, lately; anger's what's for dinner.

A note about privilege: yes, I know it's no one in particular's fault, and yes, everyone deserves to be as happy as possible in this place. But the truth is, privilege isn't fair, and that pisses me the fuck off. There's no skygod to assign and manage the big book of privilege, there is no secret council that controls meaning construction and assignment, there are no conscious avatars of the suck of the status quo; in short, there is no one for me to blame, no one upon whom I can vent my rage. We're all fucking complicit, implicated. (I still get angry at those who get more (identity, pleasure, social integration, community, usw) than me, because it's not fair, even if it's not their fault. Is that fair? No, not by a long shot. Knowing this, I still do it, and can't seem to stop. I'm angry at the success of others, envious of chances and circumstances I never got. This is probably what makes me a shitty person.) What can you do? Look your privilege in the face, see it for what it is, own it. Mitigate harm where you can, chip away at the structure where you're able. Is it enough? Fuck, no, but it's a hell of a lot better than sticking your head in the sand and doing nothing, or worse, smugly blaming those less fortunate for their own misery. (Disclaimer: I have a caucasian penis, which means people give me way more than I deserve or earn; I talk about this, a lot, loudly, to anyone who will listen and a lot who won't. I also have, for the moment, steady access to food, shelter and potable water. I'm way the fuck ahead of most of the world, and still I bitch. You can, too. Maybe you should.)

I'm angry at a lot of things. If you want a list, just ask. I think most of it's justified, and yeah, that means in some ways, at some times, I'm angry at all of you. But you know what? I can love and respect the hell out of someone and still be livid furious at them; it doesn't necessarily affect my love for them. But you know something else? I can still be furious at someone and not love them as an individual. Maybe I should, but I know my own fucking limitations, and this is one.