The hatred of men

There is a negativity towards men that transmen have to face. I find it disturbing that so much of this hatred towards men comes from the trans community. I’ve seen it, i’ve felt it and the statistics of the suicides of men speak for themselves.
You will rarely if ever (there is always at least one i guess) hear trans man say such words as “I am relieved i’m not really a woman” because there is no relief to be had. Contrary to popular belief, women on the whole are not hated. You will hear transwomen speaking of their relief of “not being a man anymore” (Anymore? So you weren’t born this way?) or “not really a man” and i’ve obsereved this often said when discussing the so called vile nature of men. This makes me as a transman highly doubt the words uttered from their lips or keyboards when they say to other transmen such clearly empty words as “You’re a good man” treating us rather like we’re not really men, we are some ‘other’ better than men. Or you could read into it that everytime they call you man, it is an insult. It is insulting to their sons if they have them, their fathers, their brothers etc. But the good men, that they see as their fathers etc they are some ‘other’ too I guess. How can they sit there and call me a man, or indeed their sons, even if they do say the words “good” before the word man, when they have pigeon holed men into a category of sexist burtal monsters? (Please note I’m not saying all transwomen do this, but I’ve seen it often enough. They are just as guilty as many other ‘cisgendered’ women).

Sadly our idolisation of women leads to more hate crimes towards trans women. I believe that rather than it being hate towards the feminine, it is hatred towards what the criminal percieves as an ‘imposter’ not only are they an imoster they are ‘pretending’ to be the very idols they worship.
It is true true within society at large, and so more insults are thrown towards trans women with a level of disgust both distubring and deeply, deeply concerning.

It also makes me consider about the gender queer phenomenon. I am not a scientist, and I am making no statement here that I see as some ultimate truth, I’m simply inquiring.
Is it possible there are more genderqueer people who are biologically female? than there are biological males who a genderqueer?
I ask this question because one thing i’ve noticed is that it appears, at least anecdotally to me, that there are more biologically female genderqueer people.
And it makes me wonder, are some of these people FTM who are scared of transitioning into what they now see as the enemy?

Even people who do regard themselves as FTM, it all too common for them to express their fears about going on testosterone. Of course some fear should be felt, it would be abnormal for it not to be felt. But the reasons for their fear? It often comes down to such things as asking about rage becoming more frequent and intense, questioning it as if they’re suddenly going to go around beating everyone up. They ask about things, concerned they may ‘begin objectfying females’ or more or less become ‘sex addicts’ Of course if their priming their themselves to believe such things of men in general, they may well end up practicing a self perpetuating cycle whereby they will find the answers they seek, missing the forest for the trees. So paranoid about becoming a monster, they may become the monster.
In contrast you will rarely see MTF’s (male to female) asking such fearful questions about going on oestrogen. There are the usual health concerns, but none it seems about becoming potential monsters.

To observe the trans community, it becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a hatred towards men that permeates our society.

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Transsexuality is not seperate from sex

To deny that transsexuality is completely separate from sex is an absurd notion that the LGBT community like to bring forwards as a ‘fact.’ So what I’m about to say may be unpopular by the LGBT community at large, and many transsexuals may get their knickers in a twist at me.

As is the case with many aspects of human identity, it does all go back to sex in the end. Sure it feels much more than that; we humans often make things bigger than they are. But at its core sex is what it is all about. I am not suggesting that it is a fetish; let me make that clear before I continue on. I’m going to talk from personal experience here as my own experience is all I can go off, and I’m stating from that transsexuality isn’t separate from sex because of my experiences.

It is like my brain has been routed towards the ‘masculine’, I don’t mean this by asserting certain stereotypes of myself, though I could list a few, I mean it in the sense that my brain and body though not separate, have a disconnect going on. My brain pursues the goals of reproduction in a way that only a man can. Unfortunately my body is not aligned with this insight into myself. My brain seeks out women and it tries hard to find a way to mate with a woman, in every male sense. My subconscious makes me behave in certain ways, which then comes forth into my consciousness and dysphoria ensues. My lack of ability to ‘get it up’ because I don’t have the parts in the first place, seems to send my brain into an error mode of panic. In my now conscious state, realising the impossibility of my goal I try to rid myself of the notion, the instinct if you will, that I am male. I try to reprimand myself, thinking myself absurd and probably insane, into accepting I am a woman. So consciously I begin trying to imagine myself as a woman, to accept myself as a woman and to understand that any sex I have will be me, as a woman. My brain still doesn’t seem to understand. It seems my brains settings are simply MALE. I’ve tried turning MALE off to go to FEMALE, only to find it doesn’t work.

What I’m left with is an option to either keep trying to be female, or I can try to do whatever possible, with what I already have to try and feel more comfortable in my body, in life. I am at my most reliable, my most stable when I allow my brain the freedom to express itself, when I allow myself to do whatever it is I need to do to outwardly see a closer match to an embedded image in my brain. The image ages as I age too, but it never appears as female.

For the reasons outlined above I find it very difficult to get my head around trans men who are able to have sex in the female way. I.e. trans men who are penetrated y other men into their vaginas. Or letting another woman penetrate them with objects or their fingers. I can understand perhaps an initial experimenting, as its partially through this experimenting you learn your body truly doesn’t align with your body. I’m not trying to negatively judge these people, each to their own. I am merely expressing my confusion as another Trans person. Because gender and sex are so interconnected, I’m not sure how you can completely separate them. My brain simply can’t compute the genitals I do have. I can get pleasure but it has to be done in a very specific way, which I won’t go into detail about.

I understand that gender is much more than their genitals, I’m not implying that what is between your legs is the only thing that matters. But it is connected, I believe, since our brains are not some separate entity in which just simply resides in the wrong body. Yes perhaps our brains are wired towards the opposite gender, leading us to feel as though we’re in the ‘wrong body’ what other way is there to describe it? Language fails us when it comes to instinct and so we’re stuck describing it in ways that sound so confusing and damn right insane. This is why I never seem satisfied with any description I can come up with. Because there is only so much that can be spoken in body language and action, there soon comes a time when certain people in our lives need a verbal or written explanation. Whether that be a potential partner or coming out as trans to relatives and friends etc. Or simply because we demand it, as humans. As we demand explinaions for everything.

The male instinct to protect?

Is it lying for me to start off a conversation, or a post by saying “When I was a young boy” ? It doesn’t feel like lying to me. To some extent, there is some fabrication I can aknowledge, but from my perspective, from my brains perspective, from the viewpoint of my childs eyes, I experienced life nonetheless as a boy. How someone can describe what experiencing life as a boy means, is complicated. It’s abstract, there are no words. Every boy will have his own views and experiences regardless of sharing his gender with other boys. Atfer all, boys and men are not a hivemind.

But still there is something very boyish it ‘feels’ to me about my childhood. wanting to be about logic and reason and things it does irk me a little to only be able to say I ‘feel’ a certain way, with no proof. But since that is all i have, that is all I can go on!

Why I felt like a boy while inhabiting a female body, I can’t say. But I did.

The times I felt greatest when I was a kid, was when I felt grounded in a boyhood sense of self, that is to say, when I felt at my most masculine in a boy sense. I can’t rememer what age it began exactly, but I soon noticed a sense of ballooning up inside with an instinct that said “be gentle with the girls” when I was out with any girls, a sense of wanting to protect them. It was like something inside me grew to make me feel bolder, to calm me so that I could be alert. I remember these feelings, that I could never put words to. Especially towards girls who were smaller than myself. And boys, I felt a protection towards boys younger than me, though it was very different. It was like a brotherly type of instinct, though not related. With girls it wasn’t brotherly, it was something else. I guess at the time perhaps it was the beginnings of a boy becoming attracted to girls, but with an innocence about it as no sexual thoughts were related to it at the time, just the pure innocent urge to protect and be more gentle. This despite the fact, body wise I was probably the same strength as them, if not in some cases possibly even weaker. Yet so ballooned up inside this protective feeling had blown up inside me, I FELT bigger than them, It was being unaware of my own strength, or rather weakness, and as a result feeling even more gentle than I would feel otherwise. I remember that feeling, because I still get it today. An overwhelming feeling of ballooning up inside with a sensitivity towards the woman next to me or sat in front of me or what have you. A sense of wishing one could pick them up in his arms and cradle them, but then much more dirty thoughts pop into my mind, all the while still feeling a sense that I must be aware of my own strength (despite lacking it still), that I must take care even in rough play, to expertly be grounded in knowing my strength and being acuetly aware what would cause potential harm. I’m not suggesting I feel this for every woman I ever come across and see, i’m talking about women I get to know, women who are a part of my life and women I’m attracted to. Of course it’s the women i’m attracted to that the urge to lift them into my arms comes out, wishing I could lift them to protect and ravish them, possibly both at the same time.

Anyone who is close to me, man or woman can get the protective instinct in me rolling. But I tend to only notice it in the very moment of something happening, where as with women(women I like in a sexual way) the protective instinct I can already feel priming itself, just by being near her. Especially in the early days of just meeting her. I’ve also found the scent of a woman can make it stronger, if I i am sexually attracted to her aswell.

This isn’t a “Things that have changed since testosterone” post, because I’ve had these types of feelings way before I ever began testosterone.
They have remained since being on Testosterone.

 

Transsexual issues becoming illegitimatised

The Information Age has oddly separated stereotypes of genders even more, becoming more and more restricted. I see young girls who are tomboys suddenly come out as Transmen. It is not for me to say who is truly trans, however with more and more people defining themselves as being somewhere under the ‘trans’ umbrella, I am becoming concerned.

Transitioning was never any decision I took lightly. It has been a painful process and still is. I have lost friends along the way, lost contact with some family members. Transitioning comes at a price, and the price can often be much more than you bargained for.

I would like to make it clear, for some people the price is right whatever may happen, since they would simply cease to want to even exist, if they didn’t go ahead with transition. I myself fit into this category. To someone who isn’t trans, that sounds very extreme, it sounds mental and illogical. It’s hard to explain how or why, so I’ve decided not to even waste my time trying. I’ve always been so obsessed with trying to explain it all, wanting to put it all in some logical box that can be easily explained. But the truth is I can’t.

I fear transsexual issues are becoming illegitimatised by people not fully thinking it through and the political correctness that is often insisted on in conversations about gender. But what I fear happens is, we only silence the thoughts they’re still having about it anyway. we wish to ignore such thoughts as we’re “mental” or “freaks” or “you’ll never be a man” we want to cover them up and pretend they don’t happen. But they do. All we’re doing is obscuring it and making it go ‘underground’ so to speak. And the more we cry about being offended, the more we react in emotionally volatile ways the more we push their beliefs about us. The more we confirm what they believe.

 

Transmen and manhood

We have been fed blasphemous lies about men for too long. Too many trans men who yearn for the testosterone running through their veins are terrified, of what monster they may become. Hearing of rage and indecent images of rape, they yearn yet they hate what they want. Many turn to feminism, a place where they can put their masculinity on a pedestal by being the exact opposite of what the feminists preach of man. “I am not angry, I do not hate women! I am here to break the patriarchy and I am man enough to stand up for women’s rights” they say and it is on the face of it a noble goal, but one to be warned away from. You can be for women’s rights and men’s rights alike, without being a feminist and toeing the line. And though you may scoff at the notion of men’s rights, know that therein lays the key, the moment, to which shows we do indeed need men’s rights.
So desperate to be labelled as a man, by the masses, they squander their potential. Toeing the line so they can keep up the image of their manhood, because manhood for them has become whatever society says manhood is, or rather to put it more bluntly, what women suppose it to be. This is not a slight against women, merely an observation.

But it doesn’t matter if someone should turn to you and say “you’re not really a man” whether that is a woman, or a man on either side of the spectrum of politics. People say this to men all the time, because to be a man on either side is something you earn. In their minds you may never earn it, simply because of the knowledge of what is or isn’t between your legs. But surely we know masculinity is more than that, by now.

You are mirroring traditionalist values, though blinded by the talk of ‘breaking the gender binary’ you don’t realize it. Is it not a traditional ideal that a man should protect his woman and any other woman from mere words? Is it not a traditional ideal for someone to preach under such campaign names as HEFORSHE? He for she. Man must once again come to the aid of the damsels in distress, for only men can, women though through one corner of your mouth are strong and independent and women need men like a fish needs a bike, and out from the other corner of your mouth women need men to come to their aid like knights in shining armour. There is nobody more traditionalist than a feminist in today’s first world.
It is the radicals of feminism that have the most consistency, they don’t trust men and so they don’t ask for their help. They simply hate men and want men to simply “fuck off” this makes more sense than preaching that too many men are violent, rapists, verbally abusive and too many have such big yet fragile egos they feel they can speak over anyone and everyone, but please, please men do help us.

They have got you hook line and sinker! They are pointing to you and saying “if you are a good man, you will come to my cause. You will prove yourself the good man among all the villains” You! Yes you! You special, unicorn of a man, such a rarity! But know that they will turn against you at the flick of the fingers. Know that they are merely drawing on what is already in most men, trans men included, the natural inclination to love and to protect women. You are not a special man in this; you are not special because you are a Trans man either. There is nothing unique about your love for women.

And in case you wonder, would I protect a loved one? My girlfriend, my mother, my sister etc indeed I would. I would in a heartbeat. I am not denying this. I am merely trying to point out, you have been told it is a unique quality among men and that through your insecurities, magnified 10 fold perhaps due to dysphoria, you have put your manhood into the hands of others. Your manhood is yours, you shall earn it for yourself, the others with their jibes about you not being a real man, they won’t matter for your confidence will grow and align with your earned manhood, that you earn for yourself, and you, you decide what you must do and who you must be in order to see the man you want to see

Eric tries to get laid

The room is getting hazy with smoke, dust particles float in the beam of the strobe lights and the music plays and people dance. And I sit here. I smoke to add to the Smokey atmosphere, it’s just not cancerous enough for me! A woman catches my eye, oh she catches my eye so well. Got that come hither glimmer in her eyes, the red lips you’d just love to see pucker and the way she licks those red lips……I need to smoke something stronger! I down a rum & coke in one and ask for another, plucking up the courage like I pluck my guitar strings when alone and miserable in my flat. A flat note is still ringing in me though, the anxiety still in my throat as I swallow another rum & coke. I take another cigarette out of my pocket and light it, I watch the cherry lit end and watch as the ash builds up. I find watching smoke calms me, soothes my nerves. I ask for a vodka and tonic. I imagine in my head that i have a wing man, pats me on the back and says “Go on, son! You can’t leave ‘em waiting forever!” I don’t know why he calls me son, I guess I must imagine an older friend or maybe I need a father figure. I drink the vodka and tonic and I approach the woman as casually and smoothly as possible, I want to portray an image to you of a smooth slick approach from a man who appears to be oozing with confidence but the truth is, I look like piss. If there is one thing I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that I need a change in tactic. I’m going to smack her with truth before any lip smacking goes on. “Hey” I say to her, holding out my had for her to shake. A niggling voice in the back of my head ‘this is not how you greet a woman’ ‘well how do you greet a woman then?’
“Hey” she smiles
“Listen, I have to admit, I’m…” I gulp and look around “I’m very nervous about this”
“What talkin’ to me? Aww! Come on, I don’t bite!”
I must have looked disappointed because then she says “Unless you want me to” she nudges me lightly with her shoulder and winks
“I…I’m wondering…if you’d still be so friendly if I told you my secret”
She looks at me intrigued
“I wouldn’t normally tell a woman so early in meeting her…”
“Oh my god, please don’t finish this sentence”
I look at her blankly “What?”
“We’ve only just met, in fact I don’t even know you’re name yet”
“I’m called Eric, and I wouldn’t worry, it’s not related to you. It’s something about me”
“Okay” she squinters her eyes at me sceptically and clutches a red purse in her hands close to her chest
“When I tell you this information, if you’re disgusted or just don’t want to know anything more, I’d ask if you could leave it discreet and just walk away. No shouting out about it”
“You’re kinda freaking me out now” she laughs nervously
“In order to stop any pretence between us I’m putting my cards on the table early. I…” my heart beats fast, my face is sweating. “I’m a trans man”
The woman looked at me with her, oh so mesmerising eyes, looked me up and down in that judgemental way I remember girls doing on the school playground and suddenly I feel naked in front of he. She sucks in air through her teeth making an almost kissy sort of sound “I only go with real men”
Oh it blows. Right to the jugular! “Do you ever use dildos on yourself?” I ask
She looks at me, mouth gaping open “Excuse me?”
“It’s just if you do, it’s kinda like that I guess”
She scoffs
“Yea, scoff you might. But think about it, at what point does a cock feel different inside you to what the dildo does? It did the same job right? I mean look at this way, I could be any size you wanted. I could send you a catalogue of all the sizes I could be.”
“fucking freak” she says and walks away
“I’ll send you the catalogue yea? You can choose your inches” it’s not really a positive to me, that I can choose size. It’s not some silver lining in it all. Some transmen lie to themselves about it, going on about how it’s this silver lining in all of the suffering that they can change their dick or some shit. Fuck that, my dysphoria is too severe and real to lie to myself like that. Still I have to use what I’ve got and so this was my attempt. I could have a catchphrase “What inches do you need? I can pack that for you!” yea I should get it printed on business cards and give it out to women “I can pack the inches you want, today. Just give me a call!” You could say I’m cheapening myself, but what’s cheaper than fucking with a fake cock trying to feel something for yourself? It makes no sense really, logically that I even want sex. Truth be told I don’t feel much when I do, even if it’s direct contact because my brain does not compute my body, yet still I have this sex drive that somehow wants to replicate itself and feel a woman’s touch. Oh just to feel a woman’s touch! To have the curves of a woman right there in front of me for me to devour and to have her moaning because of me, little old me! Yea it’s all superficial in the end, it’s all chemicals inside our brains and really you’re just plugging yourself into the matrix. But sometimes you just want to plug yourself into the damn matrix!

Short stories: An ordinary transmans life

Hi there. You’ve dared yourself to open these pages, so i guess you’ve got to read on. Oh shit, i feel bad for you, i do. This morning I had an accident, the humiliation! I’m shaking my head as i think about it. I was on the tram into manchester MANCHESTA! say it like that, and you’re talking like us. Anyway, i was on the tram, they’re like small trains. Anyway, here goes, my penis fell out of my underwear and down my legs on the tram. It flopped around like a fish out of water, just flopping and flipping and looking like a dick. Yea…..People looked over and were all “What the fuck” and i was all “I don’t know, I don’t know what that is. Gotta be kidding me. What is it?” I was trying to pretend it hadn’t come from me
“Looks like a dildo” A woman said, looking around for laughs
“Nah, shit, it’s too floppy for that”
And so you see everyone on the tram got a peep at my dick and they all discussed how floppy it was. Floppy, floppy, floppy!

Now i’m sat here in front a woman named Alice. “Alice, before we continue on” i start “There is something i need to tell you”
she blinks at me and her ears open ready to hear, wether or not she listens is a different matter
“Okay” my heart is racing. I’m pretty sure i’ve shat myself. It stinks, she can smell it, her nostrils flared a little. “Okay” I repeat “I should just come out and say it shouldn’t it” I grab the glass of water on the table and gulp it down
“Whatever it is, i’m sure it’s not that bad”
I’d laugh if i didn’t also feel like crying. “Depends on your view of it”
“Well just tell me!”
Inpatience is setting in on her. “Okay” I breathe “I am a transman”
She pulls a face at me “Whats a trans man? Like a man who drives transit vans?”
“Yes, yes thats what i do. and thats what was so hard for me to tell you. Because you know, people judge”
“Ah i wouldn’t judge you for that”
This is not real, is it? it can’t be “Yes i drive a blue transit van”
“cool” she replies “Couldn’t you paint it a better colour”
“Whats up with blue?”
“Nothing.”
“If you don’t like blue, i’m afraid this isn’t going to work, my transit van is very important to me”
She looks at me astonished, blinking. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious”
She looks down at the table and looks sad “It seems a very strange reason to blow someone off”
“What reasons have you used before to blow someone off?”
She shrugs her shoulders
“You could blow me off if you like”
“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing anymore”
I ask for the bill. I guess we’re not.