On Toys and Stereotypes

"When I grow up,
I'll be stable.
When I grow up,
I'll turn the tables."
 -- Garbage, When I Grow Up

The video in the previous post got me thinking about my own childhood.

Listening to other trans women's stories, there are a lot of themes that come up time and time again. One of those is that many knew from a very young age that they were female. That they always wanted to play with dolls. That they hated their genitalia. That they just... knew.

To some extent, I envy those people, because I had no idea.

Some of my earliest memories are of toys, but not dolls. Oh sure, we had a Teddy Ruxpin. I had a stuffed rabbit pillow that I took everywhere for a while. My sisters had gobs of stuffed animals, My Little Ponies, and Cabbage Patch dolls, which were certainly interesting, but I was drawn to something else completely.

I liked Domino Rally, Legos, K'Nex, and Lincoln Logs. I liked to make things, I liked to invent. I liked Intellivisions and computers and Game Boys. I taught myself to program text adventures in qbasic when I was 9, a dot matrix printer is one of my favorite sounds, and I still ask for Lego sets for Christmas and Birthdays.

It took me a long time to realize and accept it, but these things do not mean that I must be male. Sure, for many women-- trans or not-- playing with dolls was an expression of their girlhood, but many other women played with Legos. And they are still women.

I've always had gender issues swirling around in my brain, but as a little kid, I don't think I fully grasped the meanings and consequences of gender, let alone how it would affect me in the years ahead. As I started to realize the implications of the box I'd been placed in, my gut reaction was to prove to myself, and to others, that the boxes didn't exist.

I've spent so much time and energy throughout my life trying to break down stereotypes, trying to show people that gender is not what they think it is, that I couldn't see the forest for the trees. The truth is that nobody fits into the boxes of "male," "female," or "in-between," but that doesn't stop the average person from staking a claim wherever they damn well please. It wasn't until I finally admitted to myself that the boxes do exist, and that I had a right to stake my own claim wherever I wanted, that I saw where I fit in, and where I would be happiest.

Maybe if I had wanted to play with dolls, or wear dresses when I was little, I would've figured it out earlier. In the end though, I think I'm glad that I didn't. I certainly wish I had the opportunity to undo my first puberty, but I know that I would not have been ready to handle this any time before now, and I don't think I would love and appreciate being a woman nearly as much as I do today.

So now I'm curious; what were your favorite toys when you were little?

Self Deprecation: A Daily Routine

"I can't handle this but I can't handle anything else,
It's my own mistake, it's based on me and not on my groin.
It's the little things in my pants that we're all living for,
I never really knew what that thing down there was used for."
 -- Mindless Self Indulgence, Kill the Rock

I've been meaning to write again for a while. I have so many subjects swirling around in my head, but it's so much easier to procrastinate. =P Just a warning: this is a pretty long entry.

A few days ago, I came home after an average day, when suddenly a wave of pressure hit me like a ton of bricks. I remember bawling to Erin for half an hour, all the while repeatedly asking "What am I doing? I feel so crazy. I can't do this! What am I doing?"

Despite the fact that I'd woken her up, she was as sweet as ever, and stayed up to comfort me until I fell asleep sobbing. The last anxiety attack I can remember before this was at least five years ago, back when I was with Bitchface. I sort of thought I'd grown out of them. Turns out I've just had it easy for the last few years. My life honestly isn't that hard right now. I have a lot of great friends, a great job, a wonderful girlfriend, so what hit me so hard that night?

I did.

I try so hard to be strong outwardly, because I want people to be happy for me. I want people to see that this is right for me. I don't want them to see how much self-doubt I always have, or how afraid I am, but I am, and I need to stop bottling so much of that up. I'm not sure how to convey the kind of punishment I put myself through, other than to simply expose my daily thought process, so here goes.