#norman: do not make a joke about cis people and trans people

[flatstarcarcosa]

immensely funny concept: i go to give rufus a bath at some point when tony is at my place and after about 15 minutes he suddenly hears me go “wait, NO-” as rufus leaps from the tub and makes a break for it.

by the time i fumble out of the bathroom tony’s just standing there with the soaking wet dog wrapped up in his cape because it’s the only thing that was laying on hand and neither of them are very happy with the situation.

[constantlyirksome]

Pose 2x02 Review: Will Somebody Take Away Candy’s Damn Hammer??

After a thrilling political season premiere, Pose slows things down and gets a little more personal. Mother Blanca, young Damon, and queen Elektra take center stage in an episode about self-acceptance and finding your own self-worth. When the category is love, its good to see the focus was pointed inwards. Blanca tells her children that once she would have done whatever it took to find a little bit of love and companionship, including having unsafe sex. Now however she knows true love and worth comes from within, and when you are yourself the right people will gravitate towards you.

Blanca comes face to face with real-estate mogul and dog owner Fredrica Norman, played by the iconic Patty Lupone. As a gay icon, it’s truly incredible that Patty could create a character so loathsome and so stuck up. A fancy lady who owns half of New York, she offers Blanca a storefront for the house mother to open up her own nail salon. Her motivations are to gentrify the streets she lives on so that the rabble (anyone queer and not white,) will leave. At first, Blanca tries her best to ‘pass’ as a cis woman, believing her worth and employability lies only in her ability to be womanly. She gives a little insight into what it’s like trying to look womanly and shop as a trans woman, and not being able to use dressing rooms. It was an eye-opener into something so simple that probably has a huge impact on people going through the same things.

She convinces Norman at first, who congratulates herself on supporting a hard working Latinx woman. However, when Fredrica hears about Blanca’s identity through the grapevine all hell breaks loose. Miss Lupone is utterly terrifying as she threatens and boasts, threatening to knock Blanca out on her ass. But MJ Rodriguez manages to match her intensity, claiming squatters’ rights and opens up shop anyway. She stands proud and tells Norman “I’m not here to gentrify neighborhoods so white ladies like you can feel safe walking down the street, I’m here for me.” Whether Miss Lupine will follow through on her threat to take Blanca’s kneecaps or not, I’m here for more of this rivalry.

Elektra has been flinging a lot of cash around this season for someone who was homeless last season, and this episode we find out why. She’s become a fierce and hugely successful dominatrix. She is on a different path than all the other characters this season, not joining in any community activities. But she has the strongest sense of self out of anyone on the show. She knows she’s not a follower, as she lets the house of Ferocity know during another heated dinner. She breaks off and forms her second house, the house of Wintour. The “Wintour is coming” joke annoyed me more than it should, considering it’s supposed to be 1990. The obvious pun wasn’t really worth breaking the fourth wall over. But her new house is fierce! Where were these dancers and gals all this time? It’s like she formed her own suicide squad. House hoppers Cubby and Lemar, not enjoying Blanca’s tough love and common sense, jump ship to their fourth house in ten episodes. Elektra’s determination to be self-reliant and in control is admirable, even if she doesn’t share the same values as Blanca or Pray Tell, the children have a lot to learn from her. Her dramatic entrance, after having disrespected the House of Ferocity, is met by Miss Candy and her trusty hammer, but worry not, because Elektra has a knife. Who is doing checks at the door???

It’s Damon’s arc that is truly heartbreaking this episode. Ricky comes back after a worldwide dance tour and they waste no time getting down and dirty, it’s super hot. But when a bar floozy implies that he slept with Ricky, repeatedly on the tour a second fight of the night breaks out as Damon rightfully smacks the crap out of the guy. Ricky, in a TRULY disappointing move, dodges questions until Damon finds the truth. Seriously Ricky was such a babe but he was truly trash this episode and deserves to sweat for what he did. Having sex under any sort of false pretenses, like having unsafe sex with a random and then convincing your boyfriend to do the same, is not on even if the sex was consensual. Damon deserves better. Blanca helps him realizes this, and Ricky and Damon’s relationship ends in the same place it began as he vows to work on himself.

After Damon and Ricky have their fight over unsafe sex she resolves to be a better mother by standing up for herself against Fredrica Norman, and finally revealing to them that she has AIDS. Lil Papi, the only Evangilista man who has shown any class this episode, gives a tearful promise to his house mother that he will do whatever it takes to keep her safe and healthy. It’s the emotional highpoint in the episode thanks to MJ and Angel Curiel, who’s really stepping up this season. He and Angel spend most of the episode being cute together and butting in on other peoples business. But it’s this tearful vow that connects the episode to the Grandfather of New York ballroom Hector Xtravaganza who died late last year. The episodes best look, a tearaway skirt that stands on its own worn by miss Lulu is a tribute to him, as is a direct quote that appeared before the credits:

“Blood does not a family make. Those are relatives. Family are those you share your good, bad, and ugly, and still love one another in the end. Those are the ones you select” – Hector Xtravaganza

[williamrage]

Finding Myself and Dealing with Dysphoria

Most of my life, from early childhood up until I was 21 I dressed as a boy, or as boyish as my parents would let me, Then I got with my now ex-boyfriend, at the time I didn’t know anything about the transgender community, I honestly thought I was the only person who felt like a male on the inside. It’s insane when I think that I knew about people who cross dressed and it never really clicked that many were probably just like me.

I went from knowing myself and being who I was as best as I comfortably could, to getting with a great guy and deciding that I would change myself for him, I forced myself to do so many things, things I had no interest in before, which for the most part wasn’t so bad, at least I can honestly say I tried, but I lost myself in that process, and that was something I wasn’t ready to accept until recently.

Who am I now? When I left my ex, I was a shattered mess who had finally found a label for how I felt, but instead of accepting myself, I ran. I ran and continued to try to change myself to fit into this world better, I had this body, why? So I took steps to have a kid. I can’t say it was smart, and sure I regret it some, but I think if I wouldn’t have had my twins I probably wouldn’t be here today.

If I could do it over I think I should have just sucked it up and transitioned. Where would I be today if I had initially started taking hormones? but things were different then, I had two doctors who were not willing to help me, one outright ignored me when I told him about how I felt, maybe if I had looked into it again, even 5 years later, things would have been different, but 10 years ago transitioning looked like a hopeless wish that would just get me into a world of rejection.

It’s not terrible being a dad, twins was something I didn’t expect, and doing it alone, even with a lot of help from family, has been a trial that has pushed me to my limits. I’ve resigned myself to being alone forever romantically. For a long time I’ve don’t very little aside from live and care for my daughters, I’ve forced myself to do many things like joining a twin parenting group, and trying to socialize.

Unfortunately, it’s when I’m socializing my twins or parent groups that my dysphoria hits me the hardest, my brain tells me I’m a guy, always has, but I know that people see me as a female, and I don’t know how to act, especially around cis women. It’s really hard to describe the feeling, it’s like, I don’t know how to present myself, I want to act normal, on the inside I’m wanting to act and be seen as the man I am, but most of the time I’m in a situation where I feel like I’m being thrown into a game I have zero idea what the rules are and I’m supposed to wing it. It leaves me feeling like a failure and an outcast, it’s bad enough that I’m an introvert, but my masculinity feels trampled on and tossed in the gutter.

On the inside I see myself as that big strong guy that stands in the back looking burly intimidating, and rarely says anything, but is really a big cuddle bear with a sarcastic take on life. I have identified with guys like that my entire life, Norman, from Mighty Max was a big one, these days I think I’d be like Big Mac from MLP. Yup! Most of the time that’s how I’m thinking of myself, I’m that big silent guy in the room, only I’m trapped in a girl’s body… it hurts saying that, because most of the time I can just not think about my body as being either, when I’m sitting I do my best to make my massive boobs disappear, like sitting at my desk right now, it’s a tall desk, my boobs are under the lip of the desk, I also have the tendency to slouch a bit so that they disappear into my chest and my shirt hangs loose over them, I don’t know if people see them, but I feel like I don’t. That’s a trick I learned when they first came in.

For a long time I’ve been able to mostly ignore being trans, there are those times when it’s hard, sometimes at work I’ll see other guys and feel so jealous. I walk and act like these guys… I feel like if my expression and demeanor was paired with a more masculine physique I wouldn’t feel so alien, and people wouldn’t feel so weirded out by how “cold” and “emotionless” I seem.

Dealing with shark week, which after having twins has turned into sometimes a three month blood bath, has been a major factor in triggering my dysphoria. I don’t know if it’s the emotional turmoil or dealing with the mess, but holy cow, there was a time when I would walk to the bathroom fighting back my tears of utter hate for the way I felt in my body. I’ll always be thankful for the day my sister got me a menstrual cup, I feel like it was a lifesaver, honestly, it was a total game changer for me, I can forget all about it most of the time, sure it can be messy and I have to get a little too hands on down in the deeps, but once it’s in, I can go the majority of the day not giving it a second thought.

I think that for most who are transgender, the dysphoria is at it’s worst when we’re forced to be the gender we don’t identify with, I feel sad for the trans little girls who are forced to dress in boys clothes without any compromise available to them from their parents, at least for me as a kid, I could go shirtless and wear jeans and clodhoppers up until puberty and nobody would give it a second thought, at least not on my parent’s property with no neighbors in sight to call CPS.

It was only after I got with my ex-boyfriend that my dysphoria began hitting me the hardest. When I’d buy women’s clothes and makeup. Now before I got with him I never willingly bought or wanted girls clothes, as a kid I fought my parents. I was in 2nd grade when I finally said no to skirts and dresses. I was forced a couple times, mainly on graduation days, and family pictures, that was my compromise, but if it was any other time, NEVER. Makeup was another funny thing to me, I’d get the scented nail polishes and put them on for a time, but then they’d eventually turn into potions, at least until high school when black nail polish and lipstick and all things goth became a thing. But both guys and girls were wearing it, heck, at that time I wanted so bad to look like Eric from the Crow that it hurt.

With my ex-boyfriend it was different, I dove into glitter and rainbows, and all things cute, I bought girl clothes, although I wouldn’t get anything that showed off much, if any, cleavage, I bought some expensive lip glosses and glittery makeup. The problem was, I would put this stuff on and look in the mirror and feel disgusted. I honestly felt like a crossdresser, like I shouldn’t be wearing it, and no matter how beautiful my ex-boyfriend told me I looked I couldn’t see it, all I could think was how much I hated myself. Many times I would get dressed, look in the mirror, feel those feelings and take off everything and opt for my androgynous look, t-shirt and jeans. Most of the clothes I bought were worn maybe once, or not at all. My “makeup” honestly I don’t think you can classify it really as makeup, but lipgloss and glitter, was mostly left alone, I’d wear it for some family get togethers with my ex’s family, but I had no patience for it, and really, I didn’t feel like I needed it anyway.

It was nice being with a guy who didn’t care if his girlfriend was a hardcore tomboy gamer, but I feel like from the beginning I was inauthentic to him, if I could have changed myself and actually have felt like a woman it would have been awesome, but it got to the point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore. What finally broke the camel’s back was my cousin’s wedding, she wanted me to be a bridesmaid, and wear a dress. What shouldn’t have been a problem, turned into weeks of tossing and turning at night, crying into my pillow while my boyfriend slept, and looking at the dress online and freaking out at the thought of wearing it, and being seen wearing it. I couldn’t do it, and it forced me to take a hard look at myself and realize, as I had many times over in my life, that this wasn’t just a feeling, or a phase, that what I felt was real, that I really was a male on the inside and I couldn’t just keep pretending.

At that point I only heard the term transgender a couple times, and heard it loosely used to describe someone who was born the wrong gender. I remember a couple conversations with my ex-boyfriend where I tried the term out on myself, somewhat as a joke, not really understanding but at the same time, knowing that if there was a word for how I felt, this was it. So when I finally did look up my feelings and the word Transgender came up and I actually dove into what it meant, and found people who felt that way and learned about their experiences I couldn’t just ignore it anymore. I took no time in telling my ex-boyfriend and family.

To me it was so obvious, to look back on my life and actually be able to say “I told you so.” or “I knew it” and actually know that I wasn’t alone. It was unbelieveable. I also knew that it was going to be hard for my parents, but I also knew that if anyone could REALLY understand it was my siblings. I wish my mom didn’t feel like she had to blame herself for everything, I wish she knew that I’ll be forever grateful that she was the one who saw my turmoil as a kid who just wanted a short freaking haircut, and finally took me out and got one. I think my dad took it better, but I doubt he’ll ever know just how awesome it felt for the short time where he made me feel like his only son as we threw the football or baseball every chance we got until the sun went down.

My sisters have been an incredible pillar to my strength. Even when I had resigned myself to living androgynously they remembered our childhood and understood. Even when I acted like I didn’t care what people called me, they made my name real, used the pronouns I shrugged at, let me vent my frustrations and despair over my dysphoria. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of absolute gratitude that I feel toward them in everything they have done. It’s because of them that I can transition and know that in the end not everyone will abandon me.

These days my dysphoria can be really bad, I can’t really look in the mirror, but since my sister started cutting my hair I can sometimes catch a glimpse of the man I’m supposed to be. I’ve had to make myself stop trying to “fit in” with the mom crowd. No more binge buying women’s clothes for me. It’s taken a long time for me to get to where I can accept myself, and some days it’s still hard, but what has changed is that I’m no longer trying to force myself to be something I’m not because no matter what I’ll always be transgender.

So that’s where I am today, I’m at the point where I’ve exhausted my arsenal against who I really am; I ran, I’ve tried to bury it, live with it and deny it. This entire time I’ve known who I am inside, but I thought I could just live with it. I didn’t realize that I was killing myself to please the people around me, I thought it would be so easy to sacrifice my feelings, nobel even, to let people love a hollow shell. But letting them love my hollow shell, came at the cost of my love, because shutting off those feelings shut off my love. It took a long time to realize that that wasn’t love at all, if people can’t love me for who I am really, then what was the point of letting them love something superficial?