I went to my new apartment this morning. There’s so much light in there. I washed my dishes, put up my books, plugged in the crock pot. I won’t get my bed delivered till sometime next week. Two of my dude friends performed this miracle of getting this monster of a tv cabinet up my back stairs two nights ago. Truly I can’t believe they were able to. They just did this impossible thing and went home. I’m very lucky to have dudes like that around.
I’m very lucky in general. It’s so hard for me to remember that. But I’m so, so lucky. I’ve been so taken care of. Some people, when they make the mistakes I’ve made and been in the situations I’ve put myself in, have not been able to get back out. I’m so lucky.
I couldn’t remember that yesterday. I cried all day. (Are you guys sufficiently blase about my admissions of crying? Because for someone like me you can’t get worked up if I talk about crying a lot. I am a crier if there ever was one.) A recurring thing in my life- not quite a struggle, but an annoyance- is that I spent my twenties being so into being Queer and now that I’m detransitioned, yeah, everyone still thinks I’m Queer and a Different Kind of Trans. That’s why I write about being straight on this blog so much, because I’m trying to work out how to Come Out as Straight in my real life.
Isn’t that the silliest problem you ever heard?
But anyways I had to come out as straight and not trans anymore to a gay publication who wanted to give my comedy some press, and so I had to come out as straight and not trans anymore to this person who works at this place where I’m involved in producing a show, and it felt humiliating. And then one of my friends gave me some press but pretty much described me as an LGBTQ comic. If I was a positive, good person, I would just go, hey thank you for the press! But instead I just felt like, DAMN I am never going to get out of this box I put myself in. I’m never going to get to just move the fuck on with my life. Also in the press I was talking about how bad my first few years of doing comedy were- like how intense the sexual harassment was, and not even telling even close to the full story, and I just got so angry at all those dudes. It’s not fair it was that bad! It’s not fair how that fucked me up! It’s not fair I felt so fucked up about myself I tried to cut my body up! It’s not fair now I gotta come out as straight to fucking strangers and feel humiliated!
I’m very lucky. Life is not fair. These are both true things. I have a sunny lovely apartment. Sometimes I have to come out as straight. These are both true things. Hashtag weird people problems.
It just sucks to tell people a story you can tell they don’t believe. I hate doing that. When I say testosterone turned me straight honestly I don’t think I’ve said it to one person who I felt just straight up believed me. Maybe somehow I’m lying and I don’t know?
Why’s it even important that people know I’m straight? Well for one I actually hate when women hit on me. The way women hit on me when I was trans was so fetishistic and there was so much pressure and creepiness along with it- they acted like frat boys. I wish I hadn’t ever seen that side to women. I wish I felt safe with women the way I did before transitioning. Fundamentally I do not. I feel freaked out when I realize a woman is hitting on me.
Then it’s also important because I hate having to go through telling the story. I hate knowing I’m not being believed, and worrying people are putting me in that “Third Kind of Person” category they do with trans people, and feeling like a circus act.
Anyways I cried a lot. It’s kind of all I did with the day. I just felt angry and powerless and cried. Then I woke up today and still felt angry and powerless, but went over the apartment and it was so bright and lovely and all mine. Lots of good things will happen in that apartment. Lots of good food, lots of good music, lots of dancing, lots of Beyonce concert dvd’s, lots of crafts, lots of talk of Mother Mary and the Divine Feminine and lots of feminist art will be on the walls and lots of baths will happen and lots and lots and lots of wonderful sleep will happen there. Lots of out of control awesome sex, all over that apartment. Lots of reading great books and feeling lucky and feeling loved.
Sometimes I feel so tired and embarrassed and powerless and I just want something shallow and good to happen for me. Like a beautiful, easy to love dude to come along, or some beautiful, easy to get money to come along, or like, everyone in America to decide I’m super rad and wise and why not give me a book deal or some shit. But in that apartment this morning I felt this real sense of very deep magic working in my life. Like, She’s got me. She got me out of California, She got me home, She got me my job with all these great people, She got me this apartment. How much more does She have to prove that She’s on top of Her plan?
I went into my work for some lunch and my coworker who I’m doing a lot of yoga with was talking about this women’s yoga retreat in Yellowstone she’s going to. She said, “You know that feeling we have right after yoga? I want to feel that way all the time. And in ten years time I’m going to. I just need to put in the work now.” And I just had to wave my hands over my head in agreement because that’s what I’m going to do with the next ten years too. Peace and happiness and love spilling out all over everything. Put in work for Her, trust in Her plan, believe in all the lots and lots and lots and lots She’s got for me.