I was sitting around this morning, looking at scars on my arms left from when I cut and burned myself, mostly from when I was in my teens and early twenties, and thinking about how I couldn’t find a way to attack the society or people around me that were causing me pain, so I took out my aggression on my own flesh. All these scars on my body show my hatred for this world turned back on myself. Started thinking about how the permanent effects of taking t are like a scar since I took t to destroy parts of myself I hated. Transitioning was taking my frustration with my place in the world as a female and turning it back on myself. I bear marks of self-disgust, my culture’s disapproval of me etched into my own body.
I’m not bothered by the scars themselves, though seeing them can bring back memories of hard times. I don’t hate that I have a deep voice and more body hair. My body records what I’ve lived through. The worst damage is out of sight, hidden under my skull, written in my nerves. That’s where self-hatred lives, shame, horror at being a woman, that thing designed to get fucked in as many ways as possible. My skin, my thickened vocal cords can indicate a little of what I’ve felt and thought about myself over the years. I can accept the voice, the thin raised lines and circles on my skin, the beard I shave every few days. It’s the knowledge of what I did to myself and why that’s getting me down. My mind is what hurts the worst and sometimes the pain feels like it’s tearing me apart .
After you learn how to hate yourself, you can learn to hate yourself for hating yourself. I feel ashamed of what I did, like I should’ve been stronger, like trying to destroy myself indicates what a weak fuck-up I am. Look at me, I was so fucked up I didn’t know what I was anymore. What the hell was wrong with me? It’s like before I was numb and now I feel every barb of self-hatred embedded in me. My task before me is to eradicate its presence from my being, learn how to kill what’s been feeding off me for years. I am so tired of hating myself. I want to be able to walk around unencumbered and so I plunge into struggle with myself yet again. How horrible to realize that parts of yourself can be turned against you, that sometimes you got to fight against your own mind because it’s been trained to kill or enslave you. This culture almost managed to fashion my body into a tomb for myself but I refuse to lay down in it. It got into my head far enough that I worked hard to try to follow its rules and obey its standards so I could gain more prestige and power, get treated like a person for once.
And now I look at what I did in disgust. Of course I feel like shit about it, I’ve been trained that when I’m frustrated with my situation in the world then I’m the one who needs changing, something is wrong with me. But I’m not going to accept that feeling. I’ll sit with it when I need to, I’ll let it have its say and then I’ll escort it to the door. I’ll learn from it but I won’t let it rule me or hang around long. I’ll learn how I came to hate myself and I’ll learn about the world that kindled such feelings in me. I’m learning to direct my rage outside of me at what has hurt me and others like me instead of using it to destroy myself. Anger and hatred can be productive, can motivate creation, bring forth compassion for others who are suffering. I’m pissed off about what happened to me and I’m upset that it’s happening to others and I want to do what I can to help. I want to fight back against this culture of female/woman-hatred. I learned a lot from taking t and living as a man. I know firsthand the difference in how the sex classes are treated, the power trauma has to split a person into parts, how a social political problem can be turned into a personal psychological/medical problem, how rhetoric about “subversion” can mask submitting to the status quo. I paid a lot for that knowledge and now I’m going to use it to become the strongest woman I can be.