#i use men's deodorant and wear men's clothes and don't shave and generally look like a grungy weirdo

[forcemasculinisation]

Hey I don’t know if this is really a big issue among trans guys but I constantly find myself questioning my identity due to the fact I can’t find any clothing or looks on men that I like. This with the fact I’m a poc makes it like weird to look for clothing styles I enjoy. Like I keep going “am I really a man if I prefer feminine clothing? Am I just lying? Should I stay feminine?” So long story short I was wondering if theirs any like styles that look good really on men or tips for when your not feeling masculine? Or just tips on feeling more masculine pre transition in general?

Thank you for your ask, anon.

I myself am pre-transition, medically speaking. I don't necessarily do much in the means of "passing" for reasons I don't feel the need to share. My opinion may not be as valid to some of you because of this, but I'll share things that my male friends do that I've observed.

My major piece of advice in terms of clothing is don't go rushing to the men's section of a store and pick up all the large, body-covering garments you can find. Playing to your body type is important, and you should probably aim to go for a size down of what you initially assume you want in men's sizes.

Brands I usually go for are general sports brands like Nike, Adidas, Reebok etc, as well as second-hand SuperDry and H&M. (Also, if you buy something and it's too big, throw it in the wash and dryer several times.)

Dark tones are traditionally masculine as well if you want to stay safe, however there are a lot of men who wear light tones, it just depends on the style.

Layering also works in my case, but it's only helpful in winter. I find when I wear a coat over a hoodie over a t-shirt, I tend to pass a lot better. (Puffer jackets are really good for emulating this, especially North Face or similar dupes.)

Also, if you wear glasses, order some more boxy-looking prescription glasses with darker or more muted frames. These generally appear more masculine at first glance, but you can ask an optician or your friend for an opinion of what looks more masc on your face. Spend a lot of tine on this, because you obviously wear your glasses more often than certain outfits.

I'd also say that it depends on the "type" of guy you're looking to present as. I have a lanky build with longer legs, so I wear straight-legged jeans to only discreetly hide curves.

Overall, it just takes a bit of experimentation. This post may not be that helpful to everyone, because I'm using my own life as an anecdote, so I apologise in advance. There is no right way to pass, and a few people warp the meaning of passing to looking more western-centric, however I've learned that this is poor advice.

As for feeling more masculine, you could:

Buy male deodorant, shower gel or aftershave and shave with a razor marketed towards men

Buy male underwear and pajamas

Try skin-tone coloured transtape (if you can find it, it's a horror to find dark brown trans tape)

Work out every day (don't rush into this, and consistency is key)

Experiment with masculine hairstyles.

If any of you would like a separate post with specific resources for any of these, or my own personal recommendations for products and clothing, I'd be happy to share.

Sidenote: passing ≠ feeling masculine. You're doing this for yourself, not for others.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind x 05

Firm foundations and sturdy hands

still crumble under tyranny

---

"Where exactly are you taking me," you slur through toothpaste, spitting it in the sink before rinsing. It's still early, 8:45, but he's fast, putting on clothes in his room while you take the bathroom.

"Well you need clothes, I ain't forget."

"And hair products, a curling iron, satin cap, my own body wash," you add using his mouthwash. It's good he has extras of the basics. The bathroom door is cracked so he can walk in and hand you a stick of deodorant which you jam under your arms and set in an empty drawer with your toothbrush for your own. "Okay, v-neck come through."

Full business casual, he comes up beside you in the mirror brushing his shaved sides down and you walk out to put your shoes back on, wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The way out of the building is just as smooth as the way in. You take a staircase to a display where his glossy burgundy BMW sits with tinted windows and custom tags.. his trophy.. and then you get in. He presses a button and you sink through tinted glass looking out at the view until you reach ground and the wall goes up behind you allowing him to back out onto pavement.

"I'll never get over that," you mumble looking through the side mirror to watch the opening shut. His own private entrance. A 'sky garage' he called it.

"Nia.."

"Hm.."

"What do you think about Black Wall Street?" He's driving somewhat normal now, only six miles over the speed limit and you haven't felt like you were going to fall through the door yet which is a plus.

"Black business, black mecca."

"It's been the pinnacle of black successful business. If you look at Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Durham.. We were at the height of self-sufficiency. We had bankers, builders, mechanics, electricians, cooks, shoemakers, tailors.... hairstylists. Anything you needed, you'd get from your own people and it worked! We were putting money in each other's pockets and building wealth with each other, taking pride in our blackness instead of tryna be the third white race... you know Asians are the second."

"I was with you until that last one."

"Nia, you know what happened to all them cities?"

"They were destroyed."

"By who? Did we destroy ourselves?"

"Boy. Who are you, Dr. Umar?"

"That's what you think?"

You touch the small black, red, and green beaded necklace with the wooden brown carved Africa pendent sitting in his cupholder.

"Umar Johnson is an ignorant misogynist who uses his platform to spread false information while robbing his followers. That's what you think of me?"

You blink. "No, I only meant the superwoke part."

"Unlike him, I have a Ph.D and I don't think AIDS came from gay black men, but it was intended to decimate the black population."

"I get it, don't compare you," you mutter watching the Oakland city views through your tinted window. People are out, strutting and power-walking on sidewalks and jogging across streets to work.

"Who destroyed our black wall streets?"

"White people," you sigh giving him what he wants.

"Never forget that the US National Guard united with White Nationalists in 1921 to bomb and shoot up the Greenwood District of Tulsa. They destroyed 35 blocks of self-sufficient black business, murdering an estimated 200 people and injuring more. This is what happens when you and I pull ourselves up by our bootstraps in this country. Jackson Ward? Socio-economic assault. They built a highway right through it and put their own businesses around it to undercut our efforts. They chased us out and sent us to housing projects then filled them with drugs. You see where I'm going with this?"

"I think I'm starting to."

"Nia, you've seen my dreams, you've seen where I've been. I've stood on both sides and seen firsthand how easy it is to infiltrate and decimate an entire city, a region even with the right intelligence and firepower. Hell, I've even pulled the trigger and I'm not proud, but it was a necessary evil for me to see that it doesn't matter how strong you build or how pure your intentions are. When a government decides that you've surpassed the ceiling of poverty they've designed specifically for you they'll wipe out a generation, drug you up, and restart you from zero. Do you understand how deep this goes?"

You finger the beaded necklace in your lap. Of course you understand everything he's saying, but what he's expecting from you is a different story and you won't agree to anything prematurely.

"Where's the end," you ask. How will he know when he's accomplished this great mission he's been on for most of his life? It's all he breathes. Will he even survive without the fight as his purpose? Keeping your silence, you watch his profile as he turns left.

"Africa. Africa was the start and it'll be the end, but in the meantime we need to provide legal and physical protection here, major city by city. We need safe houses, secured and armed.. built to withstand the force of a nuclear weapon."

"How will you manage that?"

"How long will it take is the question." Pulling up to a building standing among other buildings, this one is as big as a high school with lettering across the front reading Wakandan International Outreach Center. Temporarily, you put the fact that you're supposed to be shopping to the back of your mind. You've heard of this place on the news, but somehow you didn't put this together. He parks in front of some well manicured bushes in a space marked for the CEO.

"You're the CEO?" You look around at the cars in the lot, the WIOC bus, and to the people walking inside.

"You ain't know? Ms. See Everything?"

"If I saw everything, I'd have figured this thing out between us. Don't ya think?"

He steps out and adjusts his tie. He's got the grey v-neck sweater vest, the white collared shirt underneath. The navy chinos.. and the navy oxfords.

Getting out, you spin showing off the same outfit you've been wearing and his brows raise subtly as you walk in beside him. Immediately he's rushed with greetings from the three people at the front desk, two guys and a girl, all wearing black WIOC shirts with blue and purple lettering that reminds you of a 90s paper cup pattern. Very stylish and retro.

The girl with the baby face and two long feed-in braids, is reaching out, grabbing your hand to stamp with some sort of mallet which he gently blocks with two fingers on her wrist before it makes contact.

"Shakila, this is an affiliate," he stares. The girl straightens, backing up meekly and the guy to her right.. the one with a rougher feel and a troublesome glint in his eye can't be over 21, you guess. He rolls out from behind the desk and you see he's wearing all black roller skates with orange and green swirled wheels. They look custom.

"72 people in the building, boss, counting you two. Ghost and Slim out patrolling, say we gotta bluebird.. 5-0 campin at Fuller's they up to something but they been quiet..up there since about 8:15 this morning."

"Keep watching. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yezzir." He rolls off down the hall and makes a right, disappearing.

"Donnie, how you doin," Erik asks the man who's been reading a magazine, chillin. He's bald, light skin, and looks over 40. He's also as big as Erik! His muscles make his t-shirt took like a muscle shirt, it's tight, but it seems more of a personal style choice than an issue of not being able to get a bigger shirt.

Erik taps the desk before continuing down a short hall that splits into three and you walk alongside him, making a left when he makes a left and passing two young boys in the hall.

"An affiliate?"

"They thought I was bringing you in for assistance," he clarifies and your face scrunches. "But you and your salon might be interested in becoming affiliates after I give you the tour."

"Really? Wow.." This thing with him just keeps getting stranger.

"This is the women's dorm," he stops in front of a large expanded room, a space filled with about.. "Twenty beds, ten bunk beds. Forty women can sleep here with their kids. They call and we hold the spot or they show up and take it. That's all the beds we could fit in there but I'm thinking of expanding. The men's dorm is on the other side of the building. Don't worry, we have security. No incidents yet. Further down," he leads and you follow him down the clean tile hall. He takes you into another opening that says locker room.

"It's like a YMCA in here." You turn looking all through at the rows of lockers with actual locks, the showers, four toilet stalls, four sinks.

"There are 60 lockers, eight showers, eight stalls, eight sinks, two washers, and two dryers."

"Y'all water bill high." Looking back to him, he smiles and nods for you to head out into the hall again as you follow him. "This place is nice, if I didn't have my apartment, I'd try to stay someplace like this."

"It's our safe place for homeless kids and families or just people who need a place to be without having to look over their shoulder, wondering where their meal coming from or who's after them."

Pausing, you look around and Erik stops. This place is beautiful. He's even got the babies' art hanging on the walls making the place warmer.

"You good?"

"Yeah.. You know, I'd actually love to be affiliated with this place. I wanna donate. How do I do that?"

"I'm glad you asked, Nia. Keep walking with me. Let me show you the rest," he smirks, speeding up as he unlocks a door with his handprint that lights up blue.

"What the hell," you mutter staring between him and the door.

"Staff only entrance. Extra measure to keep the women safe on this side, if you wanna leave or come in, there's one way and you gotta get through security, that way you're only back here if you're supposed to be.

"Makes sense."

Through the door is another hall that's perpendicular to the one you just left. You follow him left and come to a large open cafeteria full of people sitting at tables, eating. Men, women, small children, teens, all black for the most part. There is a sprinkle of darker skin that isn't black. A mother with three young kids and then an old man.

"How do you get away with only taking black people? Isn't that 'discrimination'," you ask with air quotes. Not that you take issue with it, you're just curious. He laughs.

"When the colonizers come we just tell them we don't have the space and if there's an issue we have Donnie escort them out. We don't get governmental assistance, we're not required to run how they think we should run. We screen everyone who comes through and take who we think will benefit from our programs.

"Wow, I'm with it," you smile following him to the food line.

"Gone 'head baby," the older woman in front of him waves for you both to go ahead. He puts his hand on her back and kisses her cheek and the line ahead happily parts like the red sea letting the both of you through with a quickness. They love him. They genuinely love him. They also all have stamps on their hand. One woman is trying to pull her stubborn toddler aside and out of the way, but Erik sweeps him up and sits the boy on his hip, winking at the woman before passing you a white dish and grabbing two more.

"What you want lil man," he asks as he goes through each option fixing two plates. One (sausage links, grits, eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, pancakes, fruit cup) for himself and one (sausage links, bacon, eggs, pancake, fruit cup) for the kid.

Choosing a table, you sit with your plate (some of everything because it looks good) and Erik follows, sitting across from you with the kid and the two plates.

"I'll get the drinks," you offer heading back to pick up two glasses of apple juice, making it to the table before returning for one more glass and three straws. You pass them out and take your seat, mouth watering and ready to eat.

"Bow your head and close your eyes, please." You lower yours and wait.

"I don't close my eyes." He lowers his head and you say the prayer as the toddler reaches into Erik's plate grabbing one of his sausages. Erik doesn't look up but he shakes his head with a slow smile and you try to keep from laughing as you finish saying grace.

"Amen," you snort picking up your fork.

"This why I keep my eyes open," he points to the kid, shaking his head in humor. He sets the boy in the seat and hands him a piece of his own sausage. Looking over, you see the mom approaching with her plate and an apologetic smile.

"Lord," she sighs. She's pretty though she looks tired. "I'm so sorry, he's a handful, I know."

"Not at all," Erik smiles. She sits next to her son and he automatically starts pulling on her, saying "mama, mom, mommy," just busy, so she pulls him onto her lap to keep him still. They're both cute and remind you of Lia and her son, Jackson.

"This is Chyna.. and Orion," he palms the boy's head playfully. "Chyna, this is Nia," he nods digging into his plate.

"Hi Nia," she smiles and you reach out to take her hand, asking how she is. She's great but ready to eat, she laughs and for a while you all just focus on eating.

"Mommy," Orion starts and you understand 40% of what he just said. His mom entertains him with hums of "Really? Oh wow," as she eats, feeding bacon into his hands.

"You here for a job," she asks looking up and it's an innocent question.

"I'm here on tour of the facility, just lookin-"

"Nia is an affiliate and potential shareholder. We're in discussion," he interrupts.

"Oh okay..," Chyna's eyes widen. "So you're getting a feel of the center. Let me tell you why this place is so important," she says all humor gone.

"Me and my son have been here for the past few nights.. a few nights before that.. and then maybe a week prior." She looks to Erik and he nods.

"His father, Rashaad," she continues, gesturing to her son, "He died last month and didn't leave a dime. I talked to his family and my family and they told me I could sign over his body and the state would cremate him," she pauses, still in shock from it. "...But I couldn't do that..." Tears leak from her eyes and you look around for a napkin. She swallows, her eyes turning pink, and takes a breath. "Then there was the rent.. We hadn't paid it for the month and our extension was running out," she sniffs. "Well I had a funeral to plan, I couldn't let the state take him."

Orion, feeling her sadness, rubs her face to try to make her feel better and she tries to pull herself together.

"So ah-" she wipes her nose. "I took a chance and contacted the Wakandan International Outreach Center and they not only paid for the burial and the coffin, they sent a representative to the funeral for words of encouragement and I'll never forget that," she sighs. Erik keeps his eyes down to his plate.

"See, his daddy.. was a hood," she continues, eyes dead on yours. You know what she's talking about. You don't have to grow up in Cali to have family in the streets. "He was shot out there in the streets in a driveby...," she sniffs. "And you know.. people like to talk a lotta shit, but even if he wasn't nothing to nobody else, he was someone to me. I loved him."

"We're working on getting Chyna a higher paying job to cover her rent," Erik interjects giving her time to wipe her face.

"Yeah, they paid the rent for the month and they're paying next month. I'm taking the class on building a resume now. I'm still working at Ross, I'm just trying to do everything I can.

"You're doing a lot," you offer and Erik gestures for you to stand to follow him out. "It was good to meet you and hear your experience," you smile shaking her hand.

"Thank you, and I'm glad you're trying to help. We need more people like him," she points to Erik.

"Shit, don't boost me," he smiles. It's something he's done a lot since he's been here and you've noticed that his smile is something that brings so much peace and a sense of safety to these people. Still, looking at him you can see deep down there's a spot in him that isn't touched. It's full of rage and intense sadness that his smile can't cover. If only the peace he provided to all these people would reach him.

@thickemadame @just-juicee @kenbieeereadss @honeytoffee

Previous Chapters:

[werevulvi]

How did you learn to be comfortable with your hirsutism? I've never been trans or detrans or dysphoric so my situation is not like yours but i'm hairier than average and even approaching my 30s i still struggle with my natural body. I've tried going noshave as a dare a couple of times and just feel overwhelmed with revulsion and shame. Even if i think it's conditioning for the most part i don't think i can undo it. Is there a point of no return?

I've always been mostly comfortable with it, but that's not saying I haven't dealt with any amount of shame or stigma about it. Especially a couple of years ago, I did struggle with it. Not everyone in my life loves hairy women, and that does affect me, so I hope I can offer some insight, or uplifting words! I think there are several aspects as to why it's fairly easy for me to love my body hair unabashedly now, and also reasons as to why I've struggled with it. Firstly, being viewed as male makes people less likely to call me gross or stare at me for being hairy, even though some still do because I often wear very feminine clothing (people tend think that hairy men in feminine clothing is "distasteful" ...apparently) and my parents really do struggle with my body hair. Even my sister has promptly given me unsolicited shaving advice. (I’m not exactly sure how my family views my gender, if it’s as a woman or more like a trans person, or as a female who identifies as a man, or I don’t know, but it’s obviously not as an actual biological man. Which I’m totally fine with and really don’t care, as they’re entitled to their opinions of me, but like it’s relevant because they probably wouldn’t have thought my body hair is gross and bad if I had actually been male, which is my only complaint: the sexism nestled in with however they perceived me.) But outside of my family and aside from my femininity, my ability to mostly blend into society as a man (which only some women do/can/want) means most people don't care about that I'm hairy, or might even praise me for it. Like if I just dress a little less girly, it's suddenly "cool" and "oh so manly" that I have hair on my chest, kinda.

Another aspect is that when/if I tell people I "identify" myself as a (trans) man, they also praise my hairiness as a positive personal achievement. Where as when I've instead "identified" myself as a woman, people have instead expressed disgust, being sorry, and other ill-placed compassion, for my hairiness. Like someone saying "I'm jealous of your beard, that looks awesome, dude" does affect me in a very different way from being told "I'm so sorry you grew a beard, I hope something can be done about it" and having been given those very different reactions based on what I've called myself (while looking the exact same way) has definitely affected my confidence about my body/facial hair.

However, I could still love my body hair even when I kept getting tons of crap for it from other people. Receiving all that crap made me feel terrible about my hairs for a while, but I also couldn't make myself truly hate them. I could within a couple of years find my love for them again. Probably so quickly because I had already loved them before, and because I was unable to hate them, despite being under that intense social pressure to conform.

When there's no one around to have opinions of my body hair, and it's just me, I first and foremost enjoy simply how they feel. That's how I started my journey to embrace my hairs. Wearing a long skirt or dress and my thicc thighs suddenly don't clamp together, because my leg hair serves as a natural barrier, which reduces friction? Awesome sensation. Wearing a shorter skirt and feeling the wind in my leg hairs on a warm summer day? Another awesome sensation. Armpits not stinging when putting on deodorant? Very nice, indeed. Not having to deal with any razor burns, and much more rarely any ingrown hairs? Neat. Twirling my fingers around my chest hair, because I still don't have a stim toy? Very soothing. Cuddling my beard? Very calming and reduces my stress levels like a LOT. It's almost as nice as petting a cat.

Then after finding how I love all those sensations and more, it became difficult for me to shave as the shaven sensation left me feeling oddly naked and like I was missing something. Without noticing, I had started to connect emotionally to my hairs as not just part of my body (for better or worse) but as truly part of ME.

Kinda like how many people feel about their head hair, regardless of their preferred length. Many people like having head hair, and would feel naked and at a loss if it was suddenly gone, which applies to both men and women. I started feeling like that "naked and at a loss" without my body hair, because I had emotionally connected to simply the physical sensations of having it there.

But I was still struggling with the appearance of my hairy body being there all visible, so on that point what I did was starting with simply covering up. Wearing clothes that would hide how hairy I was, basically. And not looking too long in mirrors, but also not avoiding mirrors. I'd glance. Except I still went swimming in just a bikini, regularly, at a public, local pool.

I think my experiences with going swimming while hairy, and otherwise hiding my hairs, helped me slowly get more comfortable with how it looked. Because I realised that despite all the comments, etc, it's really no one's business how I groom my body, as long as I'm clean and smell fresh. And my hairs are definitely clean! They're freshly shampooed and conditioned! I'm only saying that because keeping my body hair clean, helps me curb that feeling of being hairy somehow supposedly being equal to being dirty, which it isn't!

The more brave I got to test myself, I decided to show my hairs in public more and more, outside of the swimming pool area. Like with low-cut shirts, short sleeved shirts, tank tops, shorter skirts/shorts, etc. Eventually I developed a stronger connection with my body hair, became protective of it. And I started seeing beauty in it too. Looking at body positivity stuff made by other hairy women out there (mostly on Instagram) inspired me a lot, and having a supportive girlfriend who kept telling me my body hair is hot, helped a lot too. Feeling attractive shouldn't be the end all be all, but I'd be an idiot if I denied that it's uplifting and inspiring to hear/see that my own body hair is attractive.

As a result, I can quite freely love my body hair now, and show it proudly, but it took a lot of work and I still feel a little bit weird about it. Like sometimes I catch myself being puzzled by that I'm so hairy yet female. So like it is deeply ingrained, the belief that female body hair is somehow bad, dirty, gross or shameful, but it's NOT objective truth. It's just subjective opinions that very many people unfortunately have. It's natural, protects the skin, can increase sensitivity, can help regulate body temperature even, it's cheaper to not spend lots of money on shaving products, and lots of other good things that come with being hairy. I think the only negative is when my bracelets, rings and necklaces get stuck in the hairs and yank them out... which doesn't happen often!

I still feel that shame tugging in me whenever my mom decides to berate me for being hairy, and I have to remind myself that that's just her opinion, and not an incredibly valuable one!

So no, I don't think there is a point of no return. Like it’s never too late, as long as you’re still alive and kicking. We continue to be maluable and adaptive, and changing as people throughout life. Any opinions or beliefs that we have can change. Sometimes on a whim, but more often from working on ourselves, consuming media that informs us why we should change an opinion/belief, testing out what works and what doesn't, challenging ourselves, facing our fears, etc, and sometimes it can take a lot of such work and determination to achieve the desired result. But I think, when it comes to self-acceptance and self-love it's always possible to achieve.

Although I may still struggle a little bit with my body, I managed to come to love it in general, and feeling really connected to being female, despite still having dysphoria, from having hated my body in the past, and I think that says a lot. I mean that to say, if I can do that, I'm sure you can too. I hate to say it, but really all it takes is willpower and not giving up.