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Diagnoses Are Not Gospel
Many people go their whole lives experiencing things like chronic pain or gut problems without ever receiving an answer. There are lots, and I mean lots of people who have this idea in their head that a diagnosis is gospel. You have to listen to and respect every diagnosis you get. The thing is, diagnoses are not rules. They are not the true word delivered to humans from G-d. They are merely one person’s attempt to figure out what you’re experiencing. And that person is likely to have a very severe bias, because almost every person many biases in regards to many situations.
I have been diagnosed incorrectly many times, it happens. Sometimes you get a one-off diagnosis that you never see again, sometimes a doctor completely overlooks a symptom or focuses too hard on another. I had 1 singular doctor tell me I was not schizophrenic, but borderline, because of how intensely paranoid I was. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I received my diagnosis for schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type by a psychologist in a psych ward I was staying at in 2016. It scared me really badly. They told me I had schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, because I had gone to the hospital during a very bad psychotic episode, and they fortunately saw me during crisis, at my worst, so they could accurately scope what was going on with me as opposed to seeing me when I am neutral or only slightly upset.The thing was, my schizoaffective disorder didn’t appear the second they diagnosed me. I had been going through the prodromal stage and they caught on to that. I have been schizophrenic for a long time. The doctors aren’t wait made me schizo. In fact, I had been told by a psychologist six months prior that I didn’t “present” schizophrenic, therefore, I couldn’t possibly be, despite my father and and his father both having it. I was diagnosed merely 6 months later during a psychotic episode where I could not speak clearly and I was not aware of what year it was.
I received my DID diagnosis in 2017, by a psychiatrist who screened people applying for disability. When I described my symptoms to him, he asked me if I had heard of DID, and told me I was a textbook case. He sent me home with a business card of his with my diagnoses on the back- PTSD, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Schizoaffective, Bipolar I. I didn’t suddenly get DID the second those words left his lips- we have been this way for quite some time. We just happened to find someone who has enough knowledge to confirm the experience, and help us cope with it.
It’s great to have a professional acknowledge what you’re going through. But keep in mind it can be a struggle. Sometimes they run you through tens of expensive tests trying to weed out every little possibility. Sometimes they will tell you they are hesitant to diagnose you with anything for one reason for another, which isn’t very helpful, because this doesn’t make the symptoms you are seeking care for disappear.
My chronic pain didn’t start the moment I finally received my fibromyalgia diagnosis, or attention for my degenerative disc disease. I have had chronic pain almost my entire life and only lately have I found a word for it- but I have known about it all along. I just thought it was “normal” to be in that much pain. I had no clue most people didn’t wake up in agonizing amounts of pain every day.
Not every doctor, psychologist, and therapist has a firm grasp on every illness in their field. Some exclusively study certain topics like trauma, or pathology. It depends on the individual and sometimes they can be very resistant to listening to their patients. Doctors love to dismiss pain, reproductive health issues, gut issues, and other problems because they won’t kill you immediately (usually) so it doesn’t concern them. Or if there are no medications to push, they usually don’t really care.
There are good professionals out there who don’t do these things. They exist. But I’ve found the number of good medical professionals is far lower than the ones who are mediocre and unhelpful. Sometimes medical experiences can be downright traumatizing (i was given the wrong patient’s medications in one of the psych hospitals i’ve stayed in) and can lead people to never want to see a doctor ever again, which is completely understandable in a lot of cases.
There are a lot of reasons why someone may go undiagnosed for life. Many women do not receive autism diagnoses because professionals still believe that autism is a mostly or entirely male disorder, or they are looking for traits of “male autism”. Men are often underdiagnosed for anxiety because from a young age, they are taught to not cry, and many people think crying is the only indicator of anxiety.
Misinformation plays a huge part, and the fact that we don’t educate the populace on what these disorders are and what the words mean doesn’t help, either. It means that patients struggle to take their care and autonomy into our own hands. It’s a system of oppression, meant to keep the patient in line, and not asking questions. They tell us only doctors can know this information, but many medical texts can be fairy easily accessed by anyone in libraries.
You know yourself better than anyone else and if you are routinely ignored or treated poorly by doctors, it doesn’t mean that your conditions will vanish. The doctor is not the conduit for the condition. They are only there to provide confirmation. You, however, are the expert of your lived experience, and you know more than anyone how much it affects you. When someone else tells you that you are not going through something, they are projecting their experience on to you, which does not include what you are experiencing.
Outside perspectives can be very important, but they can also cause us to lose sight of ourselves. Sometimes others get into our heads so much that we can’t hear our own inner voice anymore. It’s great to consider feedback, but it’s also extremely important to trust your own judgment. Confidence in your ability to determine what is going on with your life and experiences can help tremendously.
Don’t knock someone if they don’t have a diagnosis. It took me 5 years of trying and two sleep studies before my chronic pain was diagnosed. It took 3 years to find a professional who knew about dissociative disorders, and that was on accident. Many people have experiences that they can explain and you can observe- it doesn’t matter if someone else has confirmed that or not. Let them tell you what is happening with their lives. You don’t live in their bodies, you can only speculate on what it’s like.
Sugar
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Disability & Work: The Honest Fucking Truth
A lot of people have this idea in their head that disabled people always have someone to care for them, or to fall back on when their illness flares up. Some people assume that whenever someone turns 18, they are automatically put on disability payments if they are disabled. A lot of people assume that every disabled person has their illnesses caught by their doctors and that they actually receive diagnoses. Many people think that there is a support network for everyone that will always be able to extend their generosity, shelter, money, and resources. Others believe that “there is still something you can do” when a disabled person realizes they are too busy to work a job.
For some, yes, these things are true, but for many, we struggle with the very basics of our lives- housing, health, food, money, etc. all because of our disabilities. For many, Medicaid, an insurance that makes just about every medical procedure free in many states, doesn’t exist. Some people have to pay exorbitant amounts of money in order to be able to see a doctor, specialist, or visit a hospital. When money is a factor, a lot of people end up not getting the care they need because it’s too expensive.
When I was a child my mother ignored all of my health needs and when I stepped on a nail, she slapped gauze and duct tape over the wound and called it good. Never saw a doctor for that one. This was a recurring pattern throughout my life staying with my mom. Our insurance wasn’t good enough and she didn’t want to have to pay for the appointments and procedures.
I had to wait until I moved out with friends to places that had Medicaid before I could start getting medical care, including mental health care. I had no idea how severe my problems were until I had made it somewhere where I could actually afford to see a doctor.
I worked very hard after moving out. I got a job before my roommate- jewelry department at Walmart. I worked for as long as they’d let me stay, but it was a holiday position so i was gone after a few months. My roommate still had not found a job and was relying on me to bring in the majority of the income. I sold illustration commissions to stay afloat. He begged his dad.
My body and mind were falling apart, I was too sick to keep it up but I kept going anyway. I got a job at McDonald’s where I only lasted 4 weeks before being told I was “too slow” due to my physical disabilities, and I was let go. By this time my roommate got a job at a call center, so I thought, hey perfect, I don’t have to stand. I’ll try to get it.
And I did. The seemingly biggest perk of the job became the worst part. Sitting for 10 hours a day destroys your lower back. Mine is already fucked. I inherited degenerative disc disease and sciatic nerve pain from my father. After about 10 months of working there, my back started to give out, my sciatic nerve getting pinched from all of the pressure in my lower back. I would have to drag myself across the building by using my hands on walls and rails because it was hard to lift my legs.
My left leg became totally paralyzed one night as I was walking to a bus stop. Luckily it was very temporary, but it scared me shitless.
I continued to try to find work that could suit me over the years- I tried being a receptionist, working in a pharmacy, working in a gas station and a few other things before I had to throw in the towel for good. I wasn’t able to keep a job for more than a month or two at that point. I had just gotten so worn down even the mere act of getting up in the morning became a chore.
I’m still very tired and worn down, so when people ask me “why don’t you have a job?” or say “i’m sure there’s SOMETHING you can do!” it doesn’t bother me anymore. I know I can’t hold down a job. I’ve tried this many times and either my body or mind gives out. I’ve worked until my leg was paralyzed. I’ve worked nights where I’ve had debilitating anxiety attacks that caused psychotic episodes as well. I’ve had to go to the hospital because I felt like I was having a heart attack, numb tingly left arm and all, from the stress of my job eating me alive.
I don’t care if a stranger tells me I need to get a job. I don’t care if someone gets on my case for asking for mutual aid. When people need help, they need help, and it’s okay to ask for help when you need it. If you have a shitty support network like I do (Sister who is 13 yrs older than me and still deadnames me after knowing I’ve been out for a decade), sometimes you have to reach a little further than your immediate relationships and that’s fine. I’m not embarrassed to ask for help
If you were facing homelessness, sleeping on cold sidewalks, being shoo’d away by cops, fighting to find a bathroom to use, struggling to save up enough money to get a hotel or an uber… you would beg too. You would. You can say you’d have too much pride, but the fear creeps in very quickly, especially if you’ve been in similar situations before. I don’t think it’s fucked up for someone who is homeless or about to be homeless to ask for help.
We are the people who need help the most, and it’s fine. We are not ungrateful or bad people for creating a source of need. There are those with excess that want to give. We just have to connect the dots.
So no, I won’t get a job. I’m applying for disability, and it is already in the appeal stage of the process. Social security will in fact notice if I get a job and will ask me why. My lawyer has been telling me to be patient. I am not on disability yet- I am on a program called General Assistance which pays me $245/month while I am applying for disability. And, I have to pay it back once I am approved for disability payments.
I am not living the high life. I’m not living the easy life. Every day is not like a vacation. I am in fact still disabled, meaning I still wake up in too much pain even when I am given the time to dictate my own schedule and conduct my own activities. I am very worried about money constantly, because disabled folks make nothing, even when we are approved. I am not choosing this life.
If I were able to, really, truly able to, you think I wouldn’t just go get a job to spare myself the stress of almost sleeping on a sidewalk or under a bridge?
If I were able to, I would. But that’s exactly what the word means.
Dis-abled. Not able.
I’m not able to work.
Now process that for a bit.
Thanks for reading.
Sugar
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Being Plural IRL: Telling People, Living Your Lives, & Other Tips.
We have been living as a system for 10 years now, and it’s one of the first things new people notice about us when meeting us. We’ve had people tell us they could ‘just tell’ we were plural before we had ever brought it up. For years we kept it a secret, acting as though other people wouldn’t notice, or would always have a bad reaction, but sometime ago, sometimes all it takes is providing that person with exposure to plurality that helps them understand that it is a real phenomenon.
There will always be people who don’t believe in plurality, and people who believe only those with disordered plurality can be plural. This is a constant, but there’s also a wide variety of people in between with a mixture of reactions, most of which involve acceptance. Even if someone doesn’t understand the concept, I’ve found it’s more common that someone will play along and try to grasp on to it as you give them more information.
If someone doesn’t have an IRL reference, it can be hard for them to digest that something is real. I think people think that even systems on YouTube, TikTok, twitter, and so on are faking because there’s a level of disconnect, not because they 100% genuinely believe that plurality is false. I really think it is the disconnect from the experience that causes most people to have such repulsion and negative opinions.
Stay casual, avoid using medical terms & overly clinical definitions and terms your first few conversations when bringing up plurality to someone who doesn’t know anything about it. The best way I’ve found to bring it up to people in a way that helps them believe what you are saying, is to be casual, but informative, and say something to the effect of “Oh, I look and sound different today because you are talking to a different person who lives in this body. There are others in here and this will happen sometimes, nice to meet you,” or “You met [headmate] last time, I’m [name], several people live in this body.” Something like that. Confidence is key, the more assertive you are with your language, the more it becomes apparent you are serious.
Avoid dumping on people with very specific and in depth system terms (protector, host, little, switching, co-fronting, etc.) right away, and it’s especially best if you don’t go into origin labels or “types” of systems unless that person specifically asks what you think caused your system, or what causes some people to be plural. Unless someone asks, the origin story really isn’t worth it and I’ve found that adds a layer of confusion for some singlets, because they weren’t thinking super hard about it to begin with, but now the concept has become way more complicated and confusing.
Honestly the best way to approach it naturally is to just mention the names, pronouns, identities, accents, voices, and styles of dress of any headmates they may commonly see. Give them indicators as to who they can potentially look out for. It’s alright if you are plural and don’t know your system very well, you can tell people you’re still getting to know them, or that you personally struggle with communicating with the others, but they will get to meet them. You don’t have to make it super complicated and you don’t have to come up with information if you don’t have any. If people ask how many of you there are and you don’t know, it’s okay to say you don’t know. We personally don’t find that question helpful and try to avoid answering it because we literally just don’t know.
Be patient with people who are just finding out about plurality, they are not going to know how to keep up with switches right away, especially if your system is quite large. They will get confused, not notice switches, not be able to identify folks at first and that’s okay. Especially if you are a covert system it can be hard at times, be patient and willing to work with people, especially if you are literally the first plural person they have ever met.
Living your own lives can be tricky- it can require a little extra income at times to do certain things, such as expanding your wardrobe to include outfits and accessories for others, but it doesn’t have to get outlandish. Many headmates in a system find they have different styles of dress and fashion. That is a perfect way to get people to be able to recognize who is out is to allow that system member to dress in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and like themselves. You don’ thave to buy entire new outfits if you are very poor, you can often times make accessories or have small indicators like pins or bracelets that help show who is out.
Having different places that you frequent for different headmates helps a lot. Introducing yourself as different people in different places can often times be a good way to test how you feel about your own plurality, as well as a really cool way to feel more accepted and like yourselves. These two places can be completely unrelated, so these people who know you by another name may never know your host’s or body’s name, and may never know otherwise. It’s a very cool way to get yourself used to introducing yourselves as different people.
Having different social groups, groups of friends, social media pages, chat groups/servers, etc. who know you by your different headmates’ names can also help a lot as well. Sometimes, system members want their own friends independent of the rest of the system. Sometimes, a headmate needs to be themselves and feel like they are a person in control of a body for some time. It’s okay to foster an environment where everyone can feel like an individual. You can use apps like Simply Plural to help organize your system, and you can create different pages on social media sites, different tumblr blogs, pinterest pages, join different Discord servers, Facebook groups, and so on.
Allowing different headmates to engage in different hobbies, if they have differing hobbies, is also very crucial. Even one small activity like allowing one system member to journal for a bit a day, or letting someone work out at the gym, or watch movies, or whatever it may be can help someone feel a lot more like themselves. Even if the rest of your system doesn’t care for it, if you can allow that one person to do it for a bit, it can help tremendously.
Doing activities with each other when possible is also very crucial. Watching shows, playing games, eating, going on walks, and even dates together can be very healthy activities that can help your system grow, flourish, and understand who they are. You are absolutely allowed to socialize with your other selves and use that as an opportunity to find out what makes each of you yourselves, if that is something you are capable of doing, or, would like to work toward. Acknowledgement from another system member goes a long way, and socializing with one another helps strengthen your internal views of one another.
Learning your different system members’ favorite foods, perfumes, scents, toys, games, etc. and surprising them with little gifts, and letting others know that they enjoy being surprised with small things (like sweets for example) can also help. Positive triggers are a big part of the experience- triggers do not have to be negative all the time, they can be positive and even neutral. Discovering what things trigger you to front can be beneficial, as you can learn how to pull people out when needed or just wanted, especially if that person has expressed desire about fronting for long periods of time, but struggles to do so.
Not every single person in your system has to have a different voice, style of dress or presentation, or “feel” completely different. It’s okay if you all have to introduce yourselves. It’s okay if you have to remind people who’s fronting. Many systems have members that look and sound very similar, and may even be very similar if not versions of the same person. That’s alright, too. You still deserve to be acknowledged for being separate people.
I hope this helps some folks approach the concept of telling IRL strangers and friends that you are plural. It’s frightening at first but I’ve found that if you keep it simple and express it in a way that’s natural for you, instead of trying to adhere to a dictionary definition, you will find some more success. Of course, if someone reacts negatively, there’s a chance you may not be able to get them to see your way, but it’s better to figure that out for sure. That doesn’t mean you have to stop living as a plural.
Johnny C.
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Our Hunt for a Home Continues: February 19th – 24th, 2023.
We received a call on February 16th about an opportunity that had opened up with a low-income housing program designed for disabled people. We had been waiting on this opportunity for 4 or 5 months and were ecstatic when the call finally came through. The other units we were looking into renting were in the worst part of town, and charging $700 or more per month for a 1 bedroom or studio unit.
We were instructed to head over to this apartment complex on Feb 20th to fill out paperwork. We hopped in an Uber and went on over. We were shown the unit, then handed an application, told to get a $16 money order to cover the application fee, and come back and hand it all in. Well, it sounded a lot easier than it ended up being.
We don’t own a car and can’t drive due to disabilities (hallucinations, dissociation, anxiety, you get the picture). So in order to get this money order, we asked what places nearby could get us one. We were told to head to a local Circle K. We looked on Google Maps, saw it was 3 minutes away, and started walking. Well, it thought we were in a car, so it meant 3 minutes driving time.
After walking for about 15 minutes before realizing something was up, our legs felt like jello. Our left leg had a pinched nerve in it that day and was sending shooting pain up our hip and down our thigh with every step. Our hypermobile & arthritic joints were already screaming in pain and our feet needed a rest after just one city block of walking. We had to call another Uber. The problem was, for whatever reason, our cellphone service provider has abysmal service in the downtown Albuquerque area.
We lost service about 5 times trying to hail Ubers over the course of the day, causing us to have several public meltdowns. It’s hard to stay calm when your phone is on 20% battery, you keep losing your only way to hail a ride, and you’re in too much pain to walk anywhere where someone can help you. After a long fight we got connected with a driver who was very understanding of our situation, despite our language barrier.
They took us to several locations for free, as we first went to a Circle K gas station that didn’t do money orders, then attempted another gas station across the street, then a bank, and so on. It took a lot of stops but the driver didn’t mind, as I was paying for the longer stops across town. I didn’t care either because it became apparent that it was President’s Day after I tried to go to a bank and it was closed. I almost gave up, but decided to call the Circle K near my home, who turned out, did do money orders. I redirected my driver from dropping me off at home, got the money order, ran back to the apartment complex with just half an hour to spare before they closed.
Filling out the application filled me with dread. The desk staff person was very nice, but she was very blunt about the entire approval process. Because they can only take a percentage of your earned income, they are a very strict program that requires each tenant to pass a credit score check AND an extensive background check that monitors ALL of the renter’s history. She told me that this part of the approval process is where a lot of people get turned away. A lot of people don’t make it, she said.
After handing in my application, I knew it was fucked. I had been holding my breath and waiting for this unit. It seemed like it would come right in time- just right before the 28th, when I’m set to be homeless. But I got the call 2 days later where she said I was denied, due to an instance of unpaid rent in my past. I sighed heavily, asked her if I would be able to apply again after I got that sorted, and she said yes.
I freaked the fuck out, texted every local friend that I could, and let them know of my predicament. I was very lucky in finding a local friend whose roommate is leaving in 2 weeks. They are willing to charge me $495/month, which is way lower than anything I’ve been able to find on the market. We agreed to help each other out until I can figure something more permanent out. It’s not a solution I’d like to take, as I barely know this person, but if it helps both of us, so be it.
The instance of unpaid rent in another state was due to us having lived in Missouri at the time, far away from friends, family, and medical care. We were living with some folks at the time who ended up ghosting us after we helped them move in together. It left us stranded in a very cold state with unsurvivable winters and no programs for homelessness. There was no medicaid or other insurance that would cover me. I couldn’t even get my proper medical care while there, and after a while, my partner and I at the time decided we needed to leave for some place cheaper and safer. The heavy winters were too scary for us, as two people who have been homeless.
The landlord here would not allow us to terminate our lease early despite us expressing that it was an emergency and we literally could not stay any longer due to my health failing severely while in the harsh winters. I was developing arthritis symptoms that I had never seen before, and I was getting so sick that I couldn’t function. Still, my landlord wouldn’t budge and said we had to pay for the rest of the lease. We refused and left anyways, but the landlord didn’t care, I suppose.
I found out today that there is potentially help to get this debt paid for and consolidated, which will make me eligible for the low-income housing program for disabled people once more. I am not going to hold my breath that this is a fast process by any means, but, I am hoping that they will be able to clear that up so I can ever hope to rent an apartment of my own again. My credit score is 9 points under the threshold they wanted, so that will be my next goal…
The only other units in the city I could find that can drum up a lease for me with my circumstances were trying to charge $685/month and $725/month, one of which being in one of the worst parts of town. I would have to pay a massive $650 deposit at both of these places, plus have to get utilities set up in my name, as well as get internet set up for my job, and a lot of other costs that will not be apparent at first, but will stack on very quickly.
I am very scared moving in with roommates in general- I am not afraid of my current roommate, but I have lived with many, many different roommates, in many different places, for many different reasons. Roommate situations fall apart very easily. Money is almost always the thing that tears roommates and friends apart- whether it’s someone not paying their portion of the rent, not buying enough groceries, not paying for a bill, gambling, shopping when they can’t afford it, and so forth…
My case worker helped me contact a local Christian charity who does housing programs and we were able to contact someone who actually seems like they can help me with permanent, long term housing- they said all of their programs are permanent, but are best suited for people in low income situations and poor health. When they asked where I was headed my case worker said a friend’s couch, and this was the first person on the phone who said, after learning about my income being a fluctuating thing, “well now that makes me even more nervous- because if she* can’t pay that $500 one time, she’s very well gonna be right back out on the street. Roommate situations almost always fall apart. I don’t feel like that’s safe for her.” [*”She”s in this context referring to me/my system.]
This charity requires that the individual stays for at least one day at a homeless shelter in order to get an official letter of homelessness. I have been to and spent time in several shelters in my city, I don’t mind one day if it means a potential future of secure housing. They told me a lot of other things that sound quite promising. I just have to hope that I can hold out until they can get something prepared for me. They said they have furnished units that are basically ready and waiting…
Staying with a friend for now isn’t the end of the world. In fact, I’m going to save some money by not having to pay for a deposit, movers, and potentially storage, now. But I’m nervous, as any kind of roadblock can cause this situation to fall apart. Disagreements, not getting a lot of money from Etsy one month, physical and mental illness, personal issues, and other life stressors can cause a lot of problems. Plus, this person may eventually decide they want someone else to move in instead, as it is their place, not mine, and that is their decision to make.
With any hope, I can get my past rental dues cleared, and have a better chance with these programs. I am hoping and praying, but that will take time, more time than I have. It is February 24th, 2023 as of writing this, and I have to be out of my apartment on February 28th. I have to have all of my possessions and myself and my pet rat out on this date, or else police will be called, and my things will be thrown on to the sidewalk, and into dumpsters. My case worker confirmed that this is the case, and I have known people who have gone through this personally.
I am very frightened. It has been hard to stay calm. I’m not exactly excited to be working with a Christian charity as someone who is visibly trans- “”female”” birth marker and deadname, but High T body, deep voice, and short hair. It’s caused problems with domestic violence shelters in the past, and can cause problems with religious organizations. I just have to hope and pray that these people love Jesus more than they hate queers.
My case worker was pretty convinced we’d be able to get our hotel stay covered by some local programs, but after 2 hours of phone calls this morning, we discovered that all of the hotel voucher programs in town have used up their funds, and the majority of them require the individual to have a child, which I do not. I have littles, but they’re system kids, not bodily ones, but they’re not so kind as to consider any of that.
I honestly didn’t anticipate any of those programs coming through. I’m just hoping that I’m able to be able to afford the two weeks in an extended stay hotel and that not too many more things come up. I didn’t really want it to have to come to this, but it’s either this, or sign a 1 year lease for 1 bedroom apartment in the least safe part of town, for $685+/month. I can’t afford that, it’s unrealistic. As much as I’d like to totally have a place all to myself right now, I can’t do it unless one of these programs actually works with me.
Anyway, I just wanted to explain why it’s been so hard for us to post regularly lately. This has all been over the course of one week. One of the worst days of our collective life was on Tuesday, having to run around town to get a money order just to be told we won’t have a place to live come the 28th… heart breaking. It felt very uncomfortable to beg friends yet again for a place to stay, but this is the life of queer, poor and disabled people. We have to do what we have to to survive and it’s not pretty. Sometimes it involves putting strain on people you love and none of us want to do it.
With any hope our disability benefits get approved sometime soon and we won’t have to wait much longer to afford to live. But until now things are very tight, and any help that we get goes directly toward our survival and staying off the street.
This is why we take the time to thank everyone we can for their help and support- it makes all the difference, especially when programs that are designed to help people like me fail miserably, or have unexpected roadblocks. Every bit of help, even the smallest donations or purchases from our store enable us to stay safe, and we appreciate each and every one greatly.
We will try to post more updates as things progress. We are finding it a bit easier to endure this when we share updates, as it helps give people an idea of what life is like for people who aren’t quite so privileged. Things that take others a few minutes can take hours for us, given our lack of reliable transportation and inconsistent health.
Thank you for reading, take care, stay safe, and I hope you find an easier time staying sheltered if you are a similarly disabled, poor queer person. It’s not easy out there. We have to take care of one another, it is the only way.
Rook
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Out as Plural: 10 Year Retrospective
We have been aware & out as plural for 10 years this year. That would’ve affected me if I had been around 10 years ago for when that started, but my system is very good at fragmentation, so unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of emotional investment. But I can tell you a lot about what’s happened since that time, and a bit of the backstory and what lead us to discovering this part of ourselves.
We found out about plurality through the otherkin and therian communities, funnily enough, which we joined in 2011. We were curious about multiples, but didn’t think much of them until we made friends with two self identified systems. We had a short existential crisis, being very stubborn at first about how you can’t be more than one person living in a body, but then some memories bubbled up from childhood, of us “pretending” to be other people at times. Signing emails with different names. Writing blog posts and forum posts under different names, with different typing styles and speech patterns.
After a while we caved and decided to learn more about it and it was like the world opened up, a bit. We learned about all kinds of plurality, both medical and non, and it caused a very strange reaction. At first the flood gates opened and we were out as plural for a while. Then we found out our roommate at the time was aware of Dissociative Identity Disorder, and thought it was a joke, and told us that we weren’t a system and couldn’t have it, and it slammed the doors shut.
We were still out as a system, but online to online friends for a while. We began seeking treatment for other mental health problems like severe anxiety, PTSD, and psychosis as we were going through a very rough patch and had just separated from our previous friend group for a time. While we were applying for disability in 2017, we were asked a lot of questions by a therapist we had never met before, to make sure this person didn’t have a bias or wasn’t lying about our conditions to get us on disability. He was very curious and interested, and after asking us about our childhood and evaluating some other PTSD related questions, he got kinda quiet and asked.
“Have you heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”
I remember just kind of staring at the floor and wringing our hands nervously. We have autism and can’t make eye contact, but I remember feeling his eyes on me. We felt seen for the first time, like he could X-ray my head and he saw all the other guys standing around in there. I don’t remember our answer, but I believe it was “yeah.”
“Well, you are a textbook case. If you haven’t been diagnosed yet, I’m diagnosing you now.”
He wrote it, along with our other diagnoses, on his business card. I still have that business card to this day, because it just felt very unreal.
I don’t believe that systems have to have DID or be diagnosed with it to be real. But that diagnosis and future sessions with that therapist were pivotal in our journey in forcing ourselves to understand we are not just one person.
After moving away from where this therapist was located, we moved back in with the prior friends who knew about DID and dismissed it. We had kind of gone into shock after receiving the diagnosis. The host at the time was the typical oblivious host who can’t interact with the others due to dissociative barriers and refused to acknowledge them… he somehow put the system into denial based lockdown for several years.
He still switched with others but just barely. He thought he was a singlet for quite some time until he finally cracked and broke in 2020 and ceased to exist. The time of our life where he tried to live as a singlet was arguably our darkest, because during that time trauma memories were surfacing like crazy and we had no therapist and no friends who knew about multiplicity who could help us cope.
Finally after moving away from those friends for the final time we came back into touch with our plurality. We met some other systems and finally started documenting our other selves again. This was in 2020, so we are still re-learning ourselves, and re-inventing how to be plural. We lived in denial of being a system from 2017 – 2020. It doesn’t seem like long, but even that short of a time can damage your ability to communicate with one another, and can reinforce powerful dissociative barriers if they exist.
Now we are living much more freely and open. We live completely alone now, all to ourselves, and it has given us a chance to truly be out and be who we are. We had an ex partner for a time who was a system who we could be ourselves around and that helped a lot, but living alone has helped much more. We have complete and total freedom to decide who we are and how we go about life. Though it does make life a bit more boring and dull and switching can be harder to track when there’s no one to interact with, but we take it day by day.
We are currently in the process of trying to work on better internal communication. We haven’t had a good therapist since the one who diagnosed us with DID- he worked with us for a while and was great at helping us be individuals and be productive in our own lives. I do think moving away from him was a big mistake, but life takes you where it needs to.
We do have DID, but we do not believe that is the root cause of our plurality. We believe we were born this way, and would’ve been this way regardless of having gone through an absurd amount of trauma in our life. We are disabled by our dissociation, but not by being a system. In fact, being a system is what saves our life every day. Our ability to become completely different people in stressful situations is powerful. We have had headmates who are capable of very powerful things, like writing court documents, or disarming someone wielding a knife with murderous intent.
Being openly plural only helps us learn more about ourselves and who we are as individuals. Hiding and pretending to be one person made our life very difficult and unmanageable. We had a lot more meltdowns, breakdowns, and episodes- when one headmate is forced to hold down the front for too long, they can often become so worn down that they can’t handle life’s stresses anymore and become more susceptible to stress related breakdowns. The switches and breaks from fronting are vital for our safety, rest, and ability to tackle life’s issues.
Our healing journey will never involve fusing into one person. I believe we are plural because we were simply meant to be, and being mentally healthy will never mean being a singlet. That was one of the darkest times of our life that lead us down a path of further abuse. We have made much better, more understanding friends who get us by just being honest.
Besides, for many systems, it is impossible to hide. We are an overt system, and have always been. People can “tell”. New friends we make walk into our home and exclaim “wow! it definitely does look like multiple people live here!” Despite us living bodily alone. Our wardrobe is full of many people’s clothing, all with different styles and tastes. Our computer reflects the hobbies and research conducted by many different folks
We regret some of the decisions we’ve made along the way, but we’re glad we are choosing to be out as plural now, as opposed to stuffing it down and trying to pretend to be singlet to impress people who don’t and refuse to understand us. It doesn’t matter who those people are, if they refuse to get you for who you are, they don’t have your best interest in mind.
We are planning on writing and filming some guides on how to be out IRL more easily, and how to live more openly plural, so to speak. We have decided it’s no longer in our best interest to be silent on the matter or pretend like it is not important to us. We are very interested in helping other plurals live happier, healthier lives.
Until then.
Mars
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An Update on Our Life: 2/5/23. Disability Poverty, Housing Insecurity, Homelessness: A Recipe for Disaster.
We have wanted to write a post detailing the brutal, honest truth of our living situation for a while and I figured now’s the time to do it.
I had been homeless and living off of couches for quite a while. I was taken in my by ex who helped give me shelter, albeit not very well. We were homeless several times while living together. We lived in hotels, out of their van, and in many other perilous situations including trying to camp in Colorado during a cold front, because we needed to save money.
We lived together for almost 2 years before we ended up getting into a few serious fights, two of which turned physical. We both received injuries during these scuffles, but during the second fight, he picked me up and threw me into a wall made of jutting-out patio stones. I received an injury and a bruise the size of my head and it has not healed in the year since I received it. In October, I dislocated my knee due to the deep tissue and muscle damage and microfracturing of my leg caused by this injury.
After my ex left, I was forced to attempt to figure out how to pay for a studio apartment whose rent was climbing due to us being on a month-to-month lease now. You see, our lease expired in July and we have had no way to renew it. We are applying for disability due to our myriad of health problems- schizoaffective bipolar type, PTSD, dissociative identity disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, fibromyalgia, psoriatic arthritis, degenerative disc disease w/ sciatica… you get the picture. We are very mentally & physically disabled and working a job is impossible. We have tried 10 different jobs, and have lost or are about to lose all of them due to health reasons.
The rent began to climb to around $1,000/month for a tiny studio apartment. I had to beg my caseworker to help me find anything I could to stay housed while we worked on something else. I was able to get some help from 2 separate rent help organizations to stay housed until February, which admittedly is a very long time and I’m grateful. It didn’t come easily. We had to fight tooth and nail for it. The first few times, the rent help organization was somewhat smooth.
The most recent time, I had to take my landlord to court.
I had to go to court to speak with the judge to try to figure out if I was rightfully being evicted or not. During this hearing the judge told me he didn’t have adequate information to make a judgement on my case as my apartment’s office had received a partial payment but he didn’t know if I would receive the full payment, and thus told me to just try to move out of my apartment by the date on the writ. I couldn’t handle that judgement, it felt like a cop-out. So I contacted the rent help organization- all they needed was a few documents. I scanned them, sent them over…
And I was approved to stay at my apartment until the end of February. I forwarded these notifications to my apartment office. When I told them to dismiss the writ, they said they couldn’t, because they “weren’t sure if the check would arrive before the move-out date”. I was furious. I realized they were trying to commit fraud- they were attempting to reap my check without letting me stay for the amount afforded to me by the government organization that was attempting to help me stay housed.
One of our alters, Carson, didn’t stand for it. Zie contacted the eviction prevention and diversion program for our state. They gave hir some extremely useless information- they wasted our time saying they needed to contact lawyers to figure out “which specific motion” we needed to file with the court. Carson waited for a weekend, and this person never got back to them after Monday came. Zie said fuck it.
Zie called the courthouse that our prior case had been filed through and asked the self-help kiosk (after fumbling through an impossible to navigate phone tree) and was emailed a blank motion form that we could fill out. After a small panic attack of realizing zie didn’t know how to fill it out, zie called the courthouse a second time and asked a second person how to fill it out.
After that, Carson fired on all cylinders, and banged out a court motion. All zie was requesting from the judge was to reconsider and dismiss the writ, as the payment was set in stone, and was a certified check from the a government organization, meaning in no way could it go missing or be used for anything but the intended purpose, which was to keep me housed until January 28th.
The next day, the courthouse called us back. And said the judge accepted our request and gave us a hearing that Friday morning. We wouldn’t have to leave our apartment, as that court hearing was set 1 day after we were supposed to leave our apartment.
During the hearing, the judge apologized, stating he “needed to schedule a second hearing with us, and didn’t,” which is fancy judge words for he forgot. We were livid but we stayed calm on the outside. He granted our request, and “vacated judgment” stating that my apartment complex had luckily received the full check the previous day and there was no need for him to interfere anymore.
We had won. Carson won our home for another month. With great exertion and stress we were allowed to stay for one more month.
But a month is a drop in the bucket when you can’t renew your lease.
Our leasing office is asking for us to either renew the lease, which would require us to make 2.5x the rent they are asking for, as well as have a good line of credit, and pay for renter’s insurance. No matter how much I have tried I cannot make that amount of money, I would have to make $2,500/month if not more for them to accept me on my own. I do not have anyone I can trust to just move in with at the drop of a hat right now.
We decided to start applying for more apartments. We sent in 4 applications, since most of them cost $45/apiece and we are very poor. One of the landlords got back to us, for an apartment in the part of town known as the Warzone, aka the worst part of town.
They said they couldn’t access our credit score, and that we may have a “credit block,” and that until we can produce a credit score of 500 or more they can’t accept us.
I almost exploded.
An apartment in the worst part of town requires a credit check? My sister put me into crippling student debt when I was a teen without explaining to me what it does. She never explained that I had to pay those back or that it would screw me over in the long term. She never helped me pay them off, so of course my credit is miserable- I’m a broke insane transsexual cripple, where would I get that money from?
I am chronically ill. How can I afford to shoot money into a void that doesn’t even keep me housed, fed, clothed, warm, or safe?
Now I come to find I cant even rent a home in the literal worst part of town, because of some imaginary line of numbers, floating around in the clouds? Are you serious?
My heart sank when I received this news. I am going to be speaking with our case worker tomorrow. But I am mortified. I feel like I’ll be consigned to living in hotels unless one of these landlords decides to forego the goddamned credit check.
My life should mean more than arbitrary numbers, especially if I have money in my hands. My life should mean something. I should be able to keep a roof over my head without having to fight every single person in the city.
From having to go to court to spend hundreds of dollars on applications that become instantly wasted in a moment once a random number cannot be found- the stress is caustic and unbearable. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. It’s brutal, it’s draining, it’s unnecessary.
No one should have to fight this hard for a home. No one should have to fight this hard to stay safe. What are my options? Find a roommate I don’t know, out of the blue? Trust a total stranger with my life, safety and possessions? I guess I must, I have so few options, I don’t know where to go. The fear is nauseating.
I wanted to give a realistic look into what it’s like to live as an insane trans cripple. Being disabled is not a cake walk. People act like it is, but I am fighting for my life daily in ways no one should have to. I don’t even have disability payments yet and I cannot get a formal job or else they will look at that and say. Well why are you applying for disability then? I’m in an a catch 22 and all of it is infuriating. I want to escape and no one will allow me.
These are the realistic struggles that trans and queer people face every day. Queerphobia has played a massive part in this as well- I have been turned away from women’s domestic violence shelters because of how deep my voice is. I “failed” a screening for the best, safest shelter in town because the person over the phone heard my voice and thought I was dangerous.
You cannot separate the struggles of the cripple and the insane from the individual’s queerness- make no mistake, being transsexual has only made this more difficult. I’m being told to stay in “men’s” shelters, which are homeless shelters. I did not receive a SINGULAR drop of legal or medical assistance after my domestic violence case because I am perceived as a man.
People do not want to give me housing assistance because i am a “strapping young man” who should be able to hustle and take care of it all-meanwhile I’m still strangled by a “female” birth name and gender marker, meaning I don’t get paid like people think I would. Literally not a soul cared when I talked at length about the dynamic between my partner and I because we are both men and therefore it wasn’t abusive because there wasn’t a woman to batter. I should’ve been able to defend myself.
When you are trans, domestically abused, and homeless and need help, you are now a ghost. Invisible. There is no help for you. Even shelters are gendered. There is no escape from your poverty and your lack of housing unless you latch on to someone else. There is no help for you. You exist in a void and it’s up to you to claw your way out.
I refuse to curl up and die and I will do whatever I have to to survive this nightmare.
I am exhausted, and the world needs to change. Now.
No more prioritizing numbers and coins and bills over the real lives of people who deserve a chance to live. No more landlords. No more paying for shelter. No more credit checks to have a HOME.
No more. We will fight to see an end to this.
- Johnny
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How Do You Pass, When There’s Nothing To Pass As?
Being intersex gives you a very interesting window into life, sex, and gender. When I was a kid growing up, people began giving me their opinions on what I should be, what I should look like, and how people of certain genders should behave.
I was told that I couldn’t be a girl. Over and over again, the thing I remember the most was being told that I couldn’t be a girl. Girls weren’t that bulky. Girls don’t have shoulders that big. Girls don’t have sharp rugged faces with big chins. Girls wear makeup. Girls carry purses. Girls don’t wear T-shirts and jeans. Girls don’t have bulky square chests and big arms.
Girls don’t have beards. Girls don’t hide their chests. Girls aren’t afraid of when people found out they were on their period. Girls didn’t sound, walk or talk like we did. We were too many, too ugly, too fat. Too funny, too smart. Seriously, no matter what we did, being a girl just wasn’t going to work, in their eyes. We had to be something else entirely.
So we were a man in their eyes, but we couldn’t be one of those, either. We had breasts, and curves. We were too feminine. We cried. We liked girly things, we liked flowers, and cute animals, and feminine things. We couldn’t be a boy, either, and that was infuriating. Too ugly and rigid and masculine to be a girl. Too feminine and soft and round to be a boy.
What do you do with it? What do you do with a child that has no gender, in a society that desperately needs to assign one to each and every kid? What do you do with the child who doesn’t want any part of it, but is desperately forced into those boxes, anyway?
I think the thing cisgender people don’t realize is that transgenders and transsexuals are not the ones necessarily fixated and obsessed with pink and blue, boy and girl, boxes and labels. It’s them, they are the ones constantly forcing us inside of these walls and boxes, telling us we’re too masculine for that, too feminine for this. Your bone structure doesn’t line up with this. You have too much hair for that.
What does it mean when people exist outside of those boundaries and they haven’t taken hormones or done anything at all?
It means that these labels and boxes are human constructs.
If humans can be born outside of these boxes, and be told that they can’t be a girl, and can’t be a boy, all because of the way they were born into this world, gifted to the earth by the forces of nature- why does anyone have to force themselves to exist inside of those boxes to begin with?
I tried to pass for most of my life. As a kid and teen I tried to pass as a girl. I tried to be a proud feminist and a proud girl. It didn’t work. My beard betrayed me, and my general butch look and demeanor didn’t help. I tried to live as a cis passing man for 7 years. That didn’t work either- I had to abandon every trace of femininity, of queerness, of individuality in order to be “safe”. I was trapped. I was suffocating. I didn’t feel like me.
When I broke out of the boxes I was me again. There’s no reason to exist inside of one if it’s not where you belong. Most people don’t belong inside of strict labels and constraints. If it feels comfortable and safe, stay there. If it feels like it’s suffocating you, leave. Don’t force anyone into a space they don’t fit in. And don’t take someone’s individuality away from them.
I won’t lie. I’m bitter, spiteful, and hateful that my womanhood was taken from me. I was told by every person, for many years of my life that I couldn’t be a woman. I couldn’t be a woman because of my beard. I wasn’t a woman because of my leg hair. I wasn’t a woman because of how I acted, how I thought, how I felt. I was too masculine to be a woman. Butch was a bad, bad thing, undesirable, miserable, ugly.
I love my ugly womanhood. I love being a fat, husky, hairy, fucked up girl. I love being queer and butch and transfeminine. I love having a beard, and a “man’s bones.” I have taken testosterone and been gifted it in excess by my endocrine system since birth to be a woman in my own way- I do not have to be forced into manhood just because of a chemical that exists in each and every one of us.
I will continue to be a butchy, faggy, genderqueer masculine boydyke. I refuse to be defined easily. I refuse to pass. For some, passing is liberty. For me, it is suffocation. I choose life. I chose myself.
- Riot!
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Plurality & Transness Walk Hand In Hand
In having numerous people living in one body, regardless of system type, or number of individuals, the likelihood of one of those individuals having a gender, body image, or other identity that differs from the others. I have met a lot of systems since I came out as one- I believe I became aware of my plurality in 2013, then was professionally diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder in 2017.
We’ve met a lot of systems of all types over the years, and I don’t think I’ve met a single one where all members share the same gender and/or sex. Even when there are “copies” of the same individual, of times, at least one varies in gender or sex for one reason or another- many view one gender as more protective or caring than another, be it due to trauma, personal identity, or personal preferences. Not every system experiences trauma, but it can be a big deal for many of us, and can cause all kinds of interesting disruptions and distortions in views on gender.
I have met systems whose shared, overall, or outward presented gender shifts wildly over the years. Ours included, this is very natural. Not every system, even DID systems, fit the standard model of “one stable host and others who peak in from time to time.” Many do, and for them, even their gender may change due to genderfluidity, or evolution over time. Maybe integrations of members into the host persona. Maybe passive influence from strong system members.
We can personally speak the best on our experience- and we have been told by professionals whose job it was to screen people for disability that we are a “textbook” case of DID. For us, we are the “type” in which our system is constantly changing, fluctuating, and never stable. We never really know “who” we are, so that outward identity changes wildly from day to day, and is highly visible. We are overt.
Many are covert, and for them, gender fluctuations may not happen at all, or if they do, very wildly. It’s not necessary for a system to be trans, and it’s not a guarantee. It’s just that with the more individuals you place into a body, the likelihood that one of them is also cis, but shares a different sex, is intersex, is trans, wants a transsexual body, or has any other type of queer experience increases.
Being trans does not guarantee you are a system. Being plural does not guarantee that you are trans. But if you are one, you have a higher likelihood of being the other, and it’s definitely a valid presentation of transness if it stems from your plurality. If you struggle to figure out who you are on the daily due to mental illness or neurodivergence, that’s a very trans experience.
Transness also walks hand in hand with autism, and neurodivergence in general. Autistic people have an extremely high chance of falling somewhere under a trans (or queer) experience. It’s okay if you don’t know who you are, experience gender fluidity, or experience intense, extreme gender due to your neurotype. It’s always valid if it’s important to you (or not important to you, if you are agender).
Don’t let anyone take your autonomy from you because you are neurodivergent. Neurodivergence and mental illness should never remove one’s ability to have a say in who they are and how to express themselves. Even if your identities are fleeting, confusing, temporary, or part of a network of many individuals expressing themselves, if it’s important to you, if it’s happening to you, it’s real.
These experiences so often coalesce that it’s important to take the time to tell yourself that it’s okay if you feel this way and if you are struggling. If you are not, that’s okay too. There are many ways to experience transness and plurality. What’s important is to live it, and experience it.
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Stand By Trans Butches
It has never been easy to be butch. I can’t personally speak for any experience other than my own, but all it takes is reading into the accounts of butches throughout history to see we have had struggles unique to our generations. This struggle is magnified when the butch is trans of any stripe.
We’re no different. Being intersex made this exceptionally difficult. Being called butch nearly from day one, with nothing but hatred and malice. dyke, lezzie and lesbo soon followed close behind. When I decided to claim my masculinity and make it my own and chase medical transition, the worse the scrutiny got.
The funny thing is though, is when you’re butch, you’re not even really allowed to be a lesbian. People view your masculinity as a direct threat and opposition to lesbianism. Whether or not the butch identifies as a man is entirely irrelevant, the point is that your actual identity becomes ripped away from you and replaced with onlookers’ assumptions.
And even when you try to proudly proclaim you are butch, you are still met with hatred. You are forced to perform to a set of standards, to have a singular gender of female, to be cisgender. We reject this notion entirely.
In order to move forward in pursuit of queer liberation we must empower the transfeminine butch, the transmasculine butch, the genderqueer butch, the nonbinary butch, the gnc butch, the transsexual butch, the transgender butch, the trans butch.
We never seem to get the say in defining the butch experience- everyone else loves to tell you about us, about how unhappy and miserable butches are, about how we act, think and feel. Disregard anyone who chooses to define us or put words in our mouths.
I grew up hearing the word butch alongside the words ugly, mean, hateful, bitter. We can be those things, but we can be soft, warm, friendly, passionate, protective, inviting and loving. We can be many things- creative and destructive forces are often two sides of the same coin, after all.
Take it from butches, not from anyone else. Listen to us, respect our stories and identities. Especially when butches identify partially or wholly as men, especially when butches are trans, especially when butches are intersex, especially when butches have complex identities and stories. We have much to teach. We have seen a lot.
Stand by trans butches. The community cannot continue to advance without us. People can pretend like we don’t exist but we will never go away. We have never gone away. Stand by us, or get out of our way, we’re not leaving any time soon.
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Finding Liberation in Lesbianism
Growing up intersex, I was called every term even vaguely related to lesbianism- me having a naturally masculine body as well as personality meant that people were going to be very invasive about myself and how they speculated about me. It didn’t really matter, any small change about myself, from wearing plaid flannel shirts, to getting the sides of my head shaved, from wanting to drive a truck to calling myself “one of the guys,” everyone in life, family, friend and enemy alike cried dyke when they saw me.
It would take me decades to realize that despite the fact that they acted like this was a bad thing, that it is not one. After all, whenever these people mentioned lesbians, it was always in a bad way- butches were ugly, mean, and undesirable. All lesbians were unfunny, unattractive, stupid, drop outs, you name it. Every horrible thing in the world got projected on to lesbians and if you were consigned “lesbian” by society, it was worse than death itself. Being butch, especially, was a bad thing, and you had to do everything in your power to stop being butch, or else.
I tried that, I over feminized myself for years, and I hated it. It backfired because people called me butch even harder, called me dyke even louder. It didn’t matter if I wore makeup, or a purse, changed how I dressed, spoke, or worse my hair, the words still followed. While everyone using them doesn’t necessarily make them true, but as I aged, they definitely stuck with me and it took time to realize the significance and the role they had in my life.
The speculations were correct, but the vitriol attached to them definitely wasn’t shared. At least, not willingly. For a long time, I also thought lesbians were bad people, that being a lesbian was undesirable, that I wanted to be everything but butch. Even when I found out about the LGBT community, the transgender umbrella is where I first found my home, because it gave me a venue to express that I was not “like everyone else”. I began to explore my gender identity, and that’s where I found out that was “other” gender. At the time the word nonbinary was not in popular circulation.
I realized at this time that in order for people to take me seriously as a trans person, I had to basically choose to be a trans guy, it was that or nothing. I tried to come out as a “person” and “agender” but it didn’t stick with people at the time. I tried desperately to be seen as just someone, but I needed people to stop viewing me as a cis girl, so I went full tilt into trans man transition for several years.
Once I began spending time with trans men, I was able to realize that was definitely not what I was experiencing at all. I felt so uncomfortable, alien, and unlike the trans men I was spending time with. They weren’t bad people and their gender wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t mine. It took until I was able to spend a lot of time with trans men that I was able to realize wow no, this really isn’t me and getting people to think this is who I am isn’t fair to myself.
I was able to finally come back out as nonbinary, thanks to the hard work of nonbinary, genderqueer, agender and other “other” gender people over the past few years. And during this time, I was able to accept that I am a lesbian. I am a system and a multigender person, and I do have gay men in my system. I do not identify as a woman, but I realized that I was forcing myself to identify as a gay man for a long time, because in the eyes of society, being a gay man is “better” than being a lesbian. Because being a gay man involves being a man, and that’s “better” to most people than being a woman or an “other” person is.
I’m now finding that I adore the things about lesbianism and dykes that society tried to get me to hate. I adore the freedom that comes with unrestricted expression. I adore that I’m allowed to be “ugly”, that I don’t have to make myself look like a Covergirl to be seen as attractive. I adore that butch dykes can be rugged, tough, and soft all at once. I adore that there are no requirements on how to look, act, or dress. I adore that many dykes are very open and free thinkers, and that many wish to abolish capitalism. I adore the desire to dismantle the power structures that keep us held back.
Obviously I’m not enthused with lesbians who wish to remove trans people from their community, and I’m not enthused with lesbians who don’t view trans people as our correct genders. No group of people is perfect, but I feel way less terrified for my safety and way less like I’m in an inaccurate place now. I spent many years forcing myself to primarily socialize in gay male spheres because I was told that being a lesbian was worse than death, but what I realized is that it’s the most freeing thing I’ve ever experienced, and that’s why some people are so scared of it.
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The Equinoxian: Trans Cripple Liberation 