I was wrapping up a meeting with an employee in my office when my cell phone buzzed. It was Monday, April 15 at 3:21 pm.
Picking up the phone, I saw a text from an Irish friend who lives outside of Dublin. “What the hell!” it said, “What is going on over there?”
With a knot in my stomach, I had a brief flashback to the morning of 9-11 when one of the administrative assistants stood in the center of our offices at work and said, “A plane just flew into the Twin Towers.”
I turned to my computer screen and saw an email from a co-worker who was going to show a few of us his new car at the end of the work day. “Guys lets cancel, explosions on
Boylston St!! People hurt.” Looking back, my interest in his new car seems so trivial now.
When I couldn’t connect to the Boston Globe web site, I knew it was from heavy on-line traffic. I sent a text back to my friend in Ireland. “Just heard about it myself.” I didn’t know what had happened, but I knew it was bad.
Then, the Globe web site appeared with the images, the videos, Twitter feeds, confusion with the fire at the JFK Library, and gruesome photos of the carnage and the horror at the Boston Marathon. I repeatedly watched the now famous video taken at the finish line by a Globe reporter Steve Silva of both bombs exploding and the subsequent heroic responses by civilians, police, EMTs, firefighters and medical personnel.
I think it would be an understatement to say that was the beginning of five tough, tense, sorrowful, grueling days in Boston.
I’m not going to go through all the details here – those can be found easily enough in the media. I do, however, have a few things to say.
First, my deepest condolences and sympathies go to the families of Martin Richard, Krystle Campbell and Lingzi Lu, the three people who were killed by the explosions at the marathon on Monday, and Sean Collier, the MIT police officer who was assassinated by the bombing suspects Thursday night.
I send my prayers and support to the more than 180 people who were injured by the blasts at the marathon, especially those who are still in serious condition in Boston hospitals, and to Richard Donohue, Jr., the MBTA Transit Police officer who was shot during the gunfight with the marathon bombing suspects on Thursday night and is also still in the hospital.
To the talking heads I’m watching right now on Sunday morning TV who are retrospectively second guessing the justification for Friday’s lockdown during the biggest manhunt in Massachusetts’ and the nation’s history and how it “gave the terrorists an economic victory”, I say, “Shut the hell up!” Personally, I stand behind my governor, Deval Patrick, and Boston Mayor Menino on this one.
To the local and federal law enforcement agencies, including the Boston Police, the Massachusetts State Police, the MBTA Transit Police, the MIT and Waterown Police, the FBI, the ATF and others, and to the first responders, EMTs and all the medical personnel, and even to the citizens of Boston and elsewhere who helped in so many ways during this ordeal, I repeat Mayor Menino’s words, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Lastly, about being a resident of the Boston area. Although I moved here 15 years ago, I have always felt like a bit of an outsider. Boston roots run deep. Family and neighborhood ties go back generations, and I have been reminded over the years about how I was not born and raised here. But those feelings of not being truly “from” here changed this week. I walk these streets where the events took place, I check in with friends who were in the race, at the finish line and living in Watertown, I listen to friends and acquaintances who know the injured and the dead, the first responders and the police. I feel just as much from Boston as Marky Mark, and I am in awe of the compassion, resolve and courage of the people of this town.
Some of you may be wondering, “Where the heck did that science-y trans guy go?”
Well, I’ve been around, busy as usual, but I have been working on a blog post for weeks now, since early December. I thought it would be an easy-breezy slam dunk kind of blog post, the kind I could write in an evening after reading a few papers from the scientific literature.
It didn’t turn out that way though. The more I got into the literature, the more I needed to read so I could understand the data, and the more I read, the less I understood it.
The topic has to do with the brain, and my own brain has always had trouble understanding itself. Neurobiology, neural physiology, neuroanatomy… anything that has to do with the form and function of the central and peripheral nervous systems – the brain and the nerves – is pretty much Greek to me, so to speak. I just don’t get it.
So as I work to comprehend and understand a topic in what has always been my worst subject, I ask for your patience. Please stay with me and I promise I will deliver something soon, depending on your definition of ‘soon.’
In the meantime, I hope y’all are well and having a great start to the New Year!
I am currently working on a new post for the New Year. Until it’s published, y’all are welcome to check out the Word Press annual report for American Trans Man to learn how ATM fared in 2012. (Doesn’t look too bad considering I pretty much didn’t post anything in the final quarter of the year.)
Stay tuned for the new post, and thank you for your interest in American Trans Man!!
–ATM
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 66,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Today in the U.S. we celebrate a day of giving thanks for our blessings and the good things in our lives. I give thanks for you, the readers, who still come to this blog even though I haven’t made a substantial post in almost three months.
During this recent period of work, travel and activism, I have failed to acknowledge one important aspect of this blog that you, the readers, have made possible:
You have broken the 100,000 views mark!
In fact, you’re only 54 views away from 105,000!
So thank you, readers, for your interest in American Trans Man! May we have many more posts together. (And I promise I will post again before the end of the year.)
Today marked the 14th Annual Transgender Day of Remembrance. Each November 20th, we remember the gender variant people who were killed simply for being themselves. You can learn more about TDOR here.
Candlelight procession and vigil, Boston TDOR, Nov. 18, 2012
And I miss writing on this blog. Unfortunately, I’m working on some other stuff right now and don’t have time to make posts, but I’ll be back soon-ish.
In the meantime, I’ll put up a link to a great column by a trans woman that I think is worth reading (if you’re so inclined). The column is called Being Trans is No Joke and you can go to it by clicking on the title.
The incongruity between what the brain expects the body to be versus how the body is actually configured.
For trans people, this can (but doesn’t always) include varying degrees, permutations and combinations of feelings and discomfort around the unwanted presence of breasts and the desire for a penis, testicles and a masculine, virilized body by many trans men, or the unwanted presence of a penis and testicles and desire for breasts and a less virilized, more feminine body by many trans women.
In the trans community, we hear about the results of extreme cases of body dysphoria, such as when struggling young trans men cut their breasts or desperate trans women amputate their own male genitals.
In our community, we refer to it, we discuss its ramifications, some of us undergo surgeries and make medical changes to our bodies to get relief from it it, but often, we don’t seem to describe it, especially how it affects us on a physical and/or emotional level.
Why is that?
There may be as many answers to that question as there are trans people. I do not know for certain, but my hypothesis is that for many trans folks, dysphoria is very personal and private, perhaps difficult to articulate and maybe even uncomfortable or emotionally painful to talk about.
If that’s true, then why would I want to publish a post about such a difficult topic? Because I think this information is important for both trans and non-trans people.
For non-trans people, receiving information about what body dysphoria feels like may help them gain insight, understanding and even empathy for what their trans friends, relatives and loved ones may be experiencing, or may help to open a dialog on this topic.
For trans people (some, anyway), I see a potential benefit of this discussion based on my own experience. Early in my process, I was confused about who I was and I didn’t think that I was trans “enough” because I couldn’t relate to the narratives I’d heard involving extreme cases of body dysphoria. I didn’t know that manifestations of body dysphoria were unique to each individual, that there are many different ways and degrees that people experience dysphoria (and for some, not at all), and I especially didn’t realize that I’d been feeling body dysphoria my entire post-adolescent life. It was such a constant part of my existence that I couldn’t dissect out the dysphoric feelings and recognize them.
It wasn’t until I compared notes with an articulate trans man who was willing to speak about his body dysphoria that I could understand, identify and name some of my own discomfort. I believe that’s one of the real benefits of these types of narratives — helping people understand themselves and their experiences, especially in context with others so they can know that they are not alone with these feelings.
When I first conceived the topic for this post, I assumed an individualized nature of body dysphoria and with that, knew that providing only my own narratives would not be enough representation of the varied experiences of people in our community. So I made a “call for submissions” around this topic on local community list servs and through a few friends. I received a number of replies, some of which you will find in this post. This small collection likely still does not constitute a good representation of the varied stories in our community, but it’s a start.
I am grateful to everyone who sent me their narratives and I am sorry that I was not able to use all of them. Some did not have quite the focus I was looking for. I invite readers who are so inclined to add their own narratives to the comments at the end of this post or send them to me by email to americantransman @ gmail . com (leave out the spaces) and I can compile them into a follow-up post. I invite fellow bloggers who might write their own posts on this topic to provide links to them in the comments section of this post. And I kindly remind the reader that the writers of these narratives are speaking for themselves only.
And so please read on if you would like to know what body dysphoria feels like for (some) trans people…
The topic has to do with the brain, and my own brain has always had trouble understanding itself. Neurobiology, neural physiology, neuroanatomy… anything that has to do with the form and function of the central and peripheral nervous systems – the brain and the nerves – is pretty much Greek to me, so to speak. I just don’t get it.
Hello readers. I miss you.
Body dysphoria.
If that’s true, then why would I want to publish a post about such a difficult topic? Because I think this information is important for both trans and non-trans people.
Oh, Boston
Picking up the phone, I saw a text from an Irish friend who lives outside of Dublin. “What the hell!” it said, “What is going on over there?”
With a knot in my stomach, I had a brief flashback to the morning of 9-11 when one of the administrative assistants stood in the center of our offices at work and said, “A plane just flew into the Twin Towers.”
I turned to my computer screen and saw an email from a co-worker who was going to show a few of us his new car at the end of the work day. “Guys lets cancel, explosions on
Boylston St!! People hurt.” Looking back, my interest in his new car seems so trivial now.
When I couldn’t connect to the Boston Globe web site, I knew it was from heavy on-line traffic. I sent a text back to my friend in Ireland. “Just heard about it myself.” I didn’t know what had happened, but I knew it was bad.
Then, the Globe web site appeared with the images, the videos, Twitter feeds, confusion with the fire at the JFK Library, and gruesome photos of the carnage and the horror at the Boston Marathon. I repeatedly watched the now famous video taken at the finish line by a Globe reporter Steve Silva of both bombs exploding and the subsequent heroic responses by civilians, police, EMTs, firefighters and medical personnel.
I’m not going to go through all the details here – those can be found easily enough in the media. I do, however, have a few things to say.
First, my deepest condolences and sympathies go to the families of Martin Richard, Krystle Campbell and Lingzi Lu, the three people who were killed by the explosions at the marathon on Monday, and Sean Collier, the MIT police officer who was assassinated by the bombing suspects Thursday night.
I send my prayers and support to the more than 180 people who were injured by the blasts at the marathon, especially those who are still in serious condition in Boston hospitals, and to Richard Donohue, Jr., the MBTA Transit Police officer who was shot during the gunfight with the marathon bombing suspects on Thursday night and is also still in the hospital.
To the local and federal law enforcement agencies, including the Boston Police, the Massachusetts State Police, the MBTA Transit Police, the MIT and Waterown Police, the FBI, the ATF and others, and to the first responders, EMTs and all the medical personnel, and even to the citizens of Boston and elsewhere who helped in so many ways during this ordeal, I repeat Mayor Menino’s words, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Lastly, about being a resident of the Boston area. Although I moved here 15 years ago, I have always felt like a bit of an outsider. Boston roots run deep. Family and neighborhood ties go back generations, and I have been reminded over the years about how I was not born and raised here. But those feelings of not being truly “from” here changed this week. I walk these streets where the events took place, I check in with friends who were in the race, at the finish line and living in Watertown, I listen to friends and acquaintances who know the injured and the dead, the first responders and the police. I feel just as much from Boston as Marky Mark, and I am in awe of the compassion, resolve and courage of the people of this town.
Boston, you’re my home, and I am so proud of you.
Five Days in April — edited by The Boston Globe’s Scott LaPierre