Sep. 4th, 2010

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They say that history is written by the victorious, at least when it comes to the state of the world after a war is over. Well though my life has felt like I've been in the wars at times it has in most ways actually been quite 'normal' by most people's standards.

But not everything in life is 'normal'. Or at least when it all kicked off it wasn't anything like expected or typical or understood in any way.

Today I - finally - watched a film I've known of for years but hadn't seen previously. Called "A Girl like Me: the Gwen Araujo Story" it was the story of Gwen from her early years until she was beaten to death in Newark, California, by a group of men aged only 17 in 2002.

I tried watching it all, but parts of it kept making my memories well up and, in the end, I had to turn it off half-way through.

So, yes, this is the anonymous journal of someone whose life history isn't quite as 'normal' as most other peoples. "Scenes from a life", if you will.

I'll jump back and forth rather than try to write chronologically as that will probably be simpler that trying to set things in order from the getgo.

So .. welcome. Why don't you sit down quietly just there and let me tell you a story. A true life story, in fact, though I don't know yet how it will end. Maybe we'll find out together.
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One summer I went to visit a friend where she was working that season. She was at a university and although not on the academic staff she had an apartment on the college campus.

That year there was a summer school running for a few weeks and each week this included a 'disco' each Thursday night, So her, another mutual friend who happened to be around, and myself all went along to see what we could find.

It was all quite enjoyable and each of us girls received quite a bit of male attention, indeed we were each smooching with someone before the party was over, and left the event with our beau's.

Mine, I recall, was a very nice and fanciable Yorkshireman and after a walk around the grounds in the moonlight he manoeuvred us back to his room. Which left me with a quandary: I really liked him but I was still "pre-op" and so there was no way that the PIV he clearly anticipated could happen.

Rather than make things really complicated I made excuses and left. I rushed back to my friend's room in another building and tried not to feel as sad as I was actually feeling. Eventually I fell asleep.

It was only the next day that I found out what had happened later in the night...

The other two had - not surprisingly - copped off with their guys and, for whatever reason, the mutual 'friend' post coitus thought it would be funny to tell her bloke about my history (some people know, most didn't, and I was never 'read'). Yes, she was stupid in the extreme, and yes I haven't seen or talked to her since.

So after she told him, he thought he just *had* to tell the other blokes about what 'my man' had gone off with. Yes, it was clearly the free-running alcohol earlier in the evening shedding the sensitivities and sensibilities of all concerned, but hindsight does that to you.

So 'my' guy felt really hurt by this news. Where I'd tried to let him down ever so gently he now went off the deep end.

That next day I was told that all five of them had been on the roof, with the one I had tried to be kind to threatening to throw himself off. The blocks were five or six stories high, so it could have been fatal.

In the end - very thankfully - my friend talked him down. But didn't tell me about it all until the summer school people had all left.

I've often wondered about that guy since then and whether I did the right thing.

Comparisons

Sep. 4th, 2010 12:03 pm
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I mentioned in my first post about the film about Gwen, and I can recall seeing quite a few others over the years, from "I want what I want" to "Boys don't cry" you, cher reader, will find that there are as many histories about girls (and boys) like me as there are people everywhere. We aren't all alike and our stories are all different.

Though there are similar events in our past - revelations, meetings, surprises, disappointments - they happen differently for each individual, so to say that something is "how it is for every xxx person" just isn't ever the case.

Take me, for example.

What am I?

Sep. 4th, 2010 12:04 pm
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Yes, a question that I'm told many in my situation have asked themselves. I was about to add "at one time or another" there, but then realised that I've never actually stopped asking myself that question.

When I was too young to understand what 'gender' was; when I did have a vague idea but was already certain that I 'didn't fit'; when I first tried to come to terms with it despite the complete lack of information I could find on the matter (it was the days before the internet was the fount of all knowledge); after I'd changed all the documentation; once I'd had "the op"; when age started itself known; when my mental and physical states before much more of an issue; even today I wonder what I am.

I'd like to think I had a working hypothesis on the subject, but then I realise I actually don't, and I'm back at square one again.

[Yes, this memoire is going to have quite a bit of introspection I expect. Possibly it is the reason I've started writing it]

The only conclusions I can reach at this moment are:
1. Fat/frumpy/forty
2. 'White' (or rather olive-pink)
3. Visually female
4. with some physical disabilities
5. and some mental 'issues'
6. who is presently single (and doesn't like it) but
7. who doesn't like going out her home that often
8. but finds an online existence slightly easier.
9. And who sometimes wishes she could talk honestly about her history to someone(s) else she trusted but it all too aware that "you can't be a little bit pregnant"

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