Anger, at whom? I have turned my anger inwards, at myself for being TS, and I need to turn it outwards. At whom? My parents were a product of their time, and they did as all people do, they did their best under difficult circumstances. Can I really blame them?
Perhaps I can blame circumstances, the monstrous European colonialism and warmongering, the need to control, the belief in an ideal of “normal”, the disdain for the Other, the tram-line thinking. It is personified for me in Alfred, Graf von Schlieffen, whose name is given to the German plan to sweep through Belgium and France, and encircle and capture Paris. There is nowt so silly as the Rational Man: poor von Kluck (yes, really, cluck cluck) had no option but to turn south-eastwards, opening his flank to attack at the Marne, and bog down half of Europe in France for four years. But the Schlieffen plan was the product of the German need for self-defence against an alliance of Britain, France and Russia. It came from the Enlightenment and the human desire to understand and control which also brought forth the Industrial Revolution, to our great benefit, and which has arguably led to our current new Spiritual enlightenment. So it was inextricably interwoven with something wonderful. (Gosh, being positive can be a pain sometimes.)
So, anger at whom? One good target is those middle class types who treat me as a man. That is gross discourtesy, and they ought to know better. None for months, and then three in two weeks! Derek, a yoga teacher, forsooth- the correct pronoun is “she” not “he”. And Klaus, with your five “spiritual” books in eighteen months, three now edited for publication, a positively Blytonian output, and Robin, lecturer in and supervisor of counsellors, all you Spiritual, advanced, mature types: I am not a “crossdresser”. I am entitled to enough respect from you that you avoid crass discourtesy.
Because being transsexual is a great blessing,
a unique perspective,
a wonder to be, and a wonder to behold
if you can silence your prejudices and preconceptions,
and just perceive.
It will not do. Yes, anger at the ignorance of my culture for turning the glorious, beautiful phenomenon of Transsexuality- a thing of wonder, a blessing- into a shameful subject of mockery and disgust.
Anger at my parents? No. Anger at my parents, now, feels manufactured. I have done anger at my parents, and while I may have more to do that is not what I need to do now.
I only decided in August- it was the immediate cause of this blog- that being transsexual is a blessing. Before, I thought it a curse. Before I decided to transition, I went with a friend to her church, and we went for coffee in the church hall afterwards. I was dressed female, and a member of the congregation talked to me as if I was a normal person. And that felt so strange to me, and in fact wrong: she ought to be expressing distaste, she ought to be uncomfortable with me, a man dressed as a woman.
I had messages from my world and my culture that how I was- with testicles and desiring to express myself female- was entirely wrong and disgusting, and I accepted that and took it in to myself and turned my anger inwards, at myself for being transsexual, rather than outwards at those who would cast me out because of this wondrous and beautiful aspect of me.
This may not be the heart of the matter, but it is the piece of the jigsaw to place, Now: I need to feel and express that anger outwards. Until I can do this work, I am stuck. I have an idea of how I might be, after, with the middle class types who use the wrong pronouns, or words like “crossdresser”, “Autogynephilia”, even “transsexual”. (I do not, now, get catcalls in the street.) I could be expressing my love for them, inviting to share my wonder and delight, see me in my beauty and paradox. Or, just ignore them, it is their stuff not mine.
First, I need to turn the anger outwards.
I can generalise that. Having no sense of my own value, when things did not turn out as I had hoped I got angry with myself and blamed myself. That is not in proper balance. There will be times when I could do better, and must try harder, but beating myself up until I give up is unproductive. There will be times when anger at others is appropriate. I do not need to express it, but I may permit myself to feel it.