Join the club, t-girl

Yes I am following the familiar trajectory of someone who gradually shifts from identifying as having sexual trans fantasies (i.e. 'crossdreamer') to identifying as generally transgender.

My thinking about this is that what is moving me down this path is something deeper than cerebral thought; that any articulation of the changing attitude would be mere rationalisation.

Intellectually I have analysed interpretations of crossdreaming and transgender, and my conclusion is a great big question mark.

So I instruct my intellectual analysis stand aside. I go with a deeper flow. Let others analyse me as I swim. My beliefs stem from my movement, they do not stand aside to assess it.

So I am a t-girl.

I acknowledge and respect the boy parts of who I am, but they are not my deep identity.

This is not actually a proud claim; in fact it feels a little shamefaced. This is because I am coming to a realization about myself which others realized about themselves in the very early years of their lives.

Slow on the uptake, Debbie.

To identify as a crossdreamer was easy, once I'd encountered the term (thanks Jack!), because it was objectively verifiable that I did crossdream. But all t-people have to go on is an inner feeling that flies in the face of the body, education and cultural pressure.

So I am not the most forthright or confident of t-girls. But t-girl I AM. xxx

Voices in a crossdream

Oh, this writing a blog is so wordy, so cerebral.

My phantom carnality wants to dance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=icJiUUBp1Po&feature=share&list=RDdeK_KXkSLkM

Love to you all,
Deborah xxx

Me versus him

I have presented myself as having a friendly, co-operative relationship with Mirror Brother. This might be the case overall; nevertheless, he is my jail, so of course I often feel like bashing him to pieces.

I'd like to discard him with affection, but fucking hell the time to discard him is well overdue.

Submit to your evolution, caterpillar.

It seems good to relativise Mirror Brother's personality, that I have regarded as my personality. An audacious self-recreation is strong, adventurous and exciting. I know it's all a bit abstract, but hey, we are all floating in unchartered virtual space.  

While self-recreation can be advocated as if gender were incidental, my yearning for my new identity to be female, female, female is SOOOOOOOH strong! It makes me want to fight and it makes me want to cry...

Deborah being danced

I - my conscious understanding - am dancing with something much bigger than myself. Any notion I might have that I am leading the dance is foolish.

A blog gives a sense of power - the blogger is god in their own blogworld. Just choosing words to put out to be read by other people presents an impression of control.

But I do not really comprehend my transness. More importantly, I do not know what to do with it, where to take it.

I am fed up with arguing points, as if from a position of assured comprehension.

So perhaps a blog is not the best medium for what I am seeking - an affirmation and development of my inner femininity.

A sense of impasse sometimes leads Mirror Brother to think 'cut the online cd-life out, this will give you so much more time and energy for other pursuits.'

But I, Deborah, need to breathe. I don't want to be totally cooped up in one person's psyche.

I do not seek to persuade you to believe anything. I just wish to be witnessed.

This blog remains the best place I know for my inner female to say 'Here I am. I exist and I am female.'

The urge to say that is so strong, so deep.

Sheer extraordinariness

The sheer extraordinariness, the sheer contrariness, of trans hovers in the background of trans discourse that tries its best to normalise itself. Trans is a freaky, contrary phenomenon: I suspect we must all feel that really.

It's the sort of thing one thinks happens only  to other people. Not even the other people you know: the strange ones, in films and books.

And yet I am one of those strange people.

The matter of disapproval can overshadow the matter of disbelief. I might not be ashamed of it, but can I really trust it, an internal feeling than flies in the face of not just culture but physical reality?

I should be strong and trust it. Claiming that strength is in itself empowering.

See the richness in the extraordinary.

Take pleasure and pride in it. Feel privileged.

I have this extra special facet in my life. An extra dimension to my experience of sexuality and gender.

It is up to me to savor my inner gender.

I intend to enjoy it.

Great big jello

My crossdreaming is like a great big blob of pink jello that descends softly, slowly but inevitably upon me every so often (well, quite often, actually). It submerges me, I surrender to it helplessly - which of course being a sub, femme sort of person is the sort of thing I enjoy.

Sex is the elixir of life, and sexual feelings are so revealing, oh so deeply revealing, of who you truly are. In fact not quite that: they ere not an indicative symptom, they are who you truly are in their own right.

Oh but I don't know really about what's really true, scientifically, philosophically speaking. I'm just a girl submerged under delicious pink jello, right? xxx

Skipping through pink question marks

Oh the sun is shining and I am a girl.

I am a girl. I am such a girl.

The same old affirmation; always worth reaffirming, like the religious constantly reaffirm their faith.

No wit or wisdom for you today folks. The answer to all complicated questions is 'I don't know'. But the question marks are lovely and pink and soft and sensual.

Instead of wit or wisdom I just have lovely femininity which I am feeling deeply. It's sexy and lovely although it makes me cry. And acknowledging it feels so deeply right.

I would like to blow kisses of this femininity out to you all. xxx