Trans invisibility (a note to allies everywhere)

The other day a mate said he saw me in a video and didn’t recognise me right away. He thought “Who’s this guy?” and then realised that my T is doing its work. Hearing that felt amazing, but I kept it to myself.

The changes in my body fascinate me. Sometimes they scare me. I keep it to myself.

There was a read-a-thon for books by trans authors. I told my readers about it. One of them wrote back to tell me to stick to writing, not shoving my lifestyle down their throat. Guess I should have kept it to myself.

I am so grateful every time people show me the smallest kindness. I got my brows done the other day and had to explain that no, I didn’t want them shaped into a beautiful feminine arch – my goal isn’t to look more womanly. The technician continued treating me respectfully. I wanted to tell people how good that felt, but I can’t do that without bringing up my transition, so I kept it to myself.

I’ve been mistaken for a dad. I can’t tell anyone; it would only make things awkward.

I want to let people know I’m legally updating my name, but I remember how they treated me last time. How long it took for them to accept me as Miriam. The judgement. The “that’s not your real name, I’m not calling you that.” I didn’t even know I was trans then – can you imagine what they’ll say now that I’m openly a thing everyone despises?

The other day I discovered that penetrable toys for people with bottom growth exist. I admitted to being curious, told my bestie. They said, “that’s weird.” I felt very small and shameful. Won’t talk about that again.

And so, even though I’ve always been an over-sharer, even though I’ve always been an open book, somehow I have this dirty secret that everyone knows about. This thing that makes everyone uncomfortable. A pet elephant I lug into every room. The happier it makes me the more they hate it but god-forbid I admit that transitioning doesn’t solve all my problems or that I don’t love every change.

I feel so alone.

When I’ve tried to bring up this alienation I get “but you can talk to me.”

No I can’t!

I’ve tried.

All you do is say “that’s weird” and wait for me to stop talking. Neither of us are enjoying this long awkward silence. This isn’t a conversation. There’s no exchange. When I want to scream into the void, I do that on the internet, not over coffee with the people who are supposed to know me best.

Dear Hart says people are just afraid to cause offence.

And oh, how people love to say “I hope this won’t offend you” before the most innocent of questions, as if the trans community are the delicate snowflakes. As if it doesn’t take grit to figure out who you are, and a steel fucking backbone to stand up and be yourself no matter what you have to lose. There are grown men having literal tantrums about the fact people like me dare to exist; adult women assaulting other women in the restroom for looking too manly; I’m told over and over by strangers who don’t know me that I’m mentally ill and should be locked up, but my nearest and dearest are afraid I’m going to hold a grudge if they ask about pronouns?

The only part that’s offensive is this assumption that my transition has fundamentally changed my personality, or perhaps the idea trans people are a monolith.

No, it’s got nothing to do with my comfort.

The truth is, if I could talk to you about the elephant in the room… if you wanted me to open up to you about my transition, you’d ask. The people who want to be there show up. Allies make an effort to affirm.

Instead the silence is loud. Alive. Growing. Creating a distance I’m becoming afraid to cross. I’ll sooner horde my joy than allow you to dull it’s shine.

Yes, I want to share with you. I want to let you in. I want us to be gloriously vulnerable while we face the adventure that is life together.

But I would rather be alone than make you uncomfortable, so I keep my transition to myself.

Miriam Caelus is an author, spouse, parent, and practising witch. When ne’s not blogging, you can find hir sitting in a sunny patch reading a book and drinking coffee.