tjpunkchef

[tjpunkchef]

I’ve been away for a bit. Not on purpose.

I may find another place to post/journal soon.

I started HRT today.

[tjpunkchef]

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Once again, thank you everyone for reading, enjoying, and sharing this comic.  Not just sharing in the sense of re-posting this comic, (which you should totally do) but also sharing your stories with me, letting my know how my comics have touched you.  It means so much to me.  Love ya! Stay tuned for more comics! <3

[tjpunkchef]

I told my mother and my wife that I am gender nonconforming.

I told my mother and my wife that I am exploring where I fall on the transgender spectrum.

I told my mother and my wife that I want to learn to live my life in a true and honest way.

I told my mother and my wife.

[tjpunkchef]

Who am I?

Well, I’m not 24601. Obviously queer though.

I’ve been asking myself this question a lot lately. Who am I? Do I really have dysphoria? Is my therapist full of shit?

I go back and forth daily. Hourly.

I’m reading books on gender, watching videos on gender, doing the work to dismantle 50 years of socialization telling me I can only buy deodorant or shampoo or lotion from these aisles and goddamit THESE aisles ONLY.

Flowers are for girls; wood is for boys. We are divided in nature.

But what is a forest if not both? I’m like both. “Both” has been a part of my anxiety for decades. I wish the answers were more definitive for me; they never have been.

I, personally, want a label. I want a flag. I want to be able to express who I am in the alphabet, the community. Most of all want acceptance which has never come easy; not from the straights and not from my queer community. Yes, I need to accept myself first.

I live in the middle. I dance in the gray.

Am I trans? Am I non-binary? Am I genderqueer?

What does it truly mean to be any of these?

Who am I?

[tjpunkchef]

My therapist told me I have body and gender dysphoria. I was honestly shocked to hear those words in reference to me, but I felt every syllable reverberate through my being.

I feel really isolated. I feel really lonely. Trying to keep my head up and figure it all out.

[tjpunkchef]

All Over The Place

In the weeks since I have last sat at this keyboard I have navigated the hills and valleys of emotion. Yes, I know that sounds dramatic, but it felt dramatic.

I've had moments of absolute clarity, confusion, absolute cloudiness, fear, joy, more fear, more confusion...you get the idea. I continue to go from a positive feeling that I want to transition into a woman, begin HRT, exercise my lower body to enhance my small hips, socially transition, come out, and allow myself the ability to attempt to live a happy life to feeling absolutely dumb for thinking that I could be a woman, shameful for wearing clothes that are gendered for the female sex, shameful for shopping in the women's section of thrift stores, wearing panties under my male gendered underwear on an almost daily basis (this also gives me great joy/feels like just a normal part of my day now), and a bit of hate toward myself for thinking of putting my family through the distress of having me be a transgender woman in the southern United States (the hate, the safety concerns, the hell that it could put them through).

I type this as I wear my favorite skirt, blouse, panties, and bra. Over the past few weeks I have removed almost all of my body hair via wax or shaving, exfoliated, moisturized, learned to give myself manicures and pedicures, painted my nails, and allowed myself to walk the halls of my home with a feminine freedom (when I am alone). I have fallen in love with my hairless soft skin. I felt such disappointment when the hair on my chest and belly started to grow back in. At least it's softer, but I know that in a few weeks it will be back to the way it was and knowing how much I prefer it gone is causing me a lot of stress. The stubble on my legs aggravates me nightly as I lay in bed. Not in the painful/itchy way that hair growing back in does, more as a reminder of the wonderful feeling my hairless, soft, and smooth legs felt against each other and the fabric of my clothes and sheets continues to fade.

My disdain for clothing gendered toward the male sex has awakened and grown exponentially over the past several weeks. I've never "liked" my body so to speak. I haven't disliked it, but have just always felt that it needed to change, via working out to achieve a more masculine frame or grow it a bit fatter, figure out what feels better, etc. After putting on my first dress that enhanced my hips I only want to accentuate them. I want to slightly cinch my waist (I like having a somewhat bigger body, a fatter body), I want to show off my actual natural curves. Clothes made for the male sex don't do this. I haven't worn jeans in years, but wept a little when I put on a pair of womens Levis that I found at the thrift store.

These emotions, these feelings, these revelations have really taken over my inner monologue. I can't stop thinking about how I think I might be a trans woman. I've talked to my therapist. I told him about the crossdressing and the feelings that have taken over my days and brought upon more sleepless nights. He mentioned that I could just be genderqueer, and I agree with that. He told me to have patience with myself and I responded that I've never reserved that for myself. I do feel that the clock is ticking. I feel like if I were to transition into a woman it is now or never. However, I also know that I can not rush a decision like this.

So, I continue to open myself to the possibility that I am a woman, that I am transgender. I continue to allow myself to feel these feelings and think these thoughts and wear these clothes and practice the acts of self care and self love. I am trying to love myself inside and out for the first time ever.

I'm also trying to love those around me more. I want to share this with my wife at some point in the near future. I am terrified of losing her and my kids. I am also terrified to continue to keep everyone in my life at arms length. I wrote down a revelation I had to share with my therapist next week:

"I have wanted to become this warm, fun, inviting, open person that I know exists inside of me for so many years, but have been unable to let out. Am I realizing that I was unable to let them out because that "me" is the woman I have somehow suppressed subconsciously and refused to allow to manifest?"

I am still confused. I am still scared. I am still working to understand this and understand me.

[tjpunkchef]

50, Trans Questioning

Since my last post here, I have continued to question everything. Am I trans? Am I a crossdresser? Why do I have a stigma against just being a crossdresser?

I think I may be beyond being just a crossdresser though. I do want my body to change, not just in the styles of fabric that I drape upon it. I have always wanted a vagina. I used to think it was because it would be easier for another queer man to penetrate me, but over the past few years, I have just felt that I am missing a vagina where one absolutely should be. Since trying on clothes gendered toward females, I have a desire to have bigger hips and a more defined waist. I've searched ways to achieve this without HRT (exercise, diet, contouring shapewear, etc) and plan to start trying to see if I can make this happen. I've been pushing my waist in with my hands while I stand in front of the mirror and I truly love the way my hips look and feel.

I am not against starting HRT. I just know that is not an immediate possibility.

Now, I also find myself picturing myself with breasts. I like the way I look with small boobs filling in the dresses and t-shirts I've worn at home, when I am alone. The small man boobs that I currently have (due to my "dad bod") fall together just slightly when I lay on my side; I push them closer with my shoulders to form a bit of cleavage. I like the way it feels.

I've been listening to a lot of trans podcasts, reading a lot of articles about other people discovering they are trans, and finding other trans women my age on social media to follow. I have taken my measurements and now look for ways to dress my box of a body. I look at and shop the womens sections at box stores and online.

I am wearing female gendered underwear under my male gendered underwear most days of the week. I ponder if I were to transition, what I would do with my bald head. I imagine what my "style" could be. I dream of working a hybrid or remote job so that I can continue to explore wearing garments not marketed toward male bodies more days of the week. I think about how and when I will talk to my wife about all of this.

I am scared. I am confused. I posses an unexpected amount of excitement. I am listening to myself for the first time in a long time with some clarity. I am not pushing these feelings away. I am scared.

[tjpunkchef]

Oh my...

I honestly do not know what compelled me. I don't know why it happened today. I just know that it did.

I am alone for the holiday. My family is away and I have stayed behind. I was feeling under the weather but I also just needed a bit of alone time. I've spent the past few days in a NyQuil coma and have watched a few movies.

I awoke this morning feeling better. After taking a shower, I remembered that I have wanted to revisit something I haven't done in a few decades. I went to the drawer and pulled out an older pair of womens underwear.

Over the past few years, I have been dealing with questions of gender. I know I'm queer. I know I'm pansexual. I have come to terms that I am non-binary, but haven't taken too many steps to explore that more. I wear a pronoun pin at work (He/They) but don't really discuss it with anyone. I have also realized that I would like to have a vagina where my scrotum is. I've researched this and daydreamed about having the surgery. I'm not sure that I will, but I do think about it a lot. In a way, I have truly felt more like a transmasc man than a non-binary person. I don't know why, but it has been the best way for me to describe to myself how I feel. I don't know what that means and haven't been in therapy long enough to breach my questions of gender.

What I haven't thought about were the times that I have worn womens underwear. It has only been a few times over the span of my almost 50 years. The first time I was a child. My sister and I were in our bedroom and I asked her to trade underwear with me. She wouldn't so I went into her dresser when she fell asleep, pulled out a pair, and went to the bathroom to try them on. They were light blue, cotton, and had some sort of design on them. I wasn't worried about any of that. I just had to know how they felt on me. I can vividly remember pulling them up my legs and feeling them rest snugly against my buttocks and front side. I remember how wonderful they felt compared to the white boys briefs I was accustomed to wearing. I then remember my mother busting into the bathroom after my sister had woken her up to tell her what I was doing. I was made to feel ashamed of what I was doing. I was told that boys don't do those sorts of things. I was told to never do this again.

Approximately 15 years later, I did do it again. At the time I was dating and living with an older man. He was 20 years my senior and I myself had only 20 years under my belt. I don't know what came over me that morning. He was at work, I had the day off. I hopped into my car and went to the closest discount store. Nervously, I stepped into the womens department and quickly walked to the rows of panties; some neatly folded, others hanging on a large display wall. I didn't know what size I might need, so I found a nondescript black pair with no frilly stuff that looked my size and added them to my cart. This was a time before self checkout lanes, so I found some other items to put in the cart to hopefully distract the cashier from noticing that one of these things were not like the buyer, but I probably gave everything away with the sweat pouring from my brow and the nervous small talk that I tried to engage them in. Nevertheless, I made it out of the store and headed back to our home. Once I arrived, I bolted into the house, undressed, and pulled the fabric up my legs and over my buttocks and genitals. I had only known of what tucking might be from watching Silence of the Lambs, so I awkwardly pushed my genitals back between my legs and stood looking at myself in the mirror. I remember feeling good, but full of shame. I remember being transported back to that bathroom as a kid and hearing my mother scold me. The same mother that asked me to keep my voice down when I was asking for her help after a former boyfriend had assaulted me. I removed the panties from my body, and put them in a bag of miscellaneous items to hide until discarding them a year later when I met a woman that I would end up marrying at the age of 21.

Almost 30 years later, married for a second time, with kids, a job, a mortgage, the desire to try on a pair of underwear that wasn't gendered toward men came to me again. It's been in the back of my head for months, but in a passing way, not something that if felt I HAD to do. As I was drying off from my shower, the thought popped into my head again and I allowed myself to be open to it. I walked over to the dresser and found a pair of black panties. I did not think they would fit, but decided to go ahead. I pulled them up my legs, feeling the fabric grab at hair along the way. When I reached my midsection with the garment, I stopped, did a proper tuck, and pulled them up to secure everything in place. They felt nice. It wasn't an Earth shattering moment, but I didn't feel any shame. I felt normal.

It was at this moment that I saw a bra in the drawer. I have never tried on a bra. I have never had the desire. I'm not sure why I reached for it and slipped it over my chest, but I did. It did not look weird, it did not look out of place, it did not look bad. It felt good. I rubbed the fabric over my chest, i felt it move back and forth over my useless nipples. It felt good.

What followed was more than an hour of me trying on womens clothes from our closet. I have never had a desire to wear womens clothes. I loved how I felt in these garments. I had moments of audible gasping as I looked at myself in the mirror. I had feelings that I can only describe as euphoric. I kept saying "oh, my" , in shock of how I looked and felt, the rush of feeling new, and pretty....I felt, pretty. I've never wanted to feel pretty, but I felt pretty today in skirts and blouses and dresses, and I really liked it.

I was turned on wearing the clothes, but it was in a way that I haven't felt before. I wasn't purely sexual, although I did have an erection for a while and kept pulling the dresses and skirts up to show my imaginary masculine suitor the panties underneath. I wanted them to see how cute my flat pubic area was and how cute my belly looked in the full coverage panties that I was wearing. I felt desirable.

After I tried on everything that I could, I looked in the mirror and asked myself out loud "am I trans?". I asked myself over and over again, but the answer did not come. "Am I just a crossdresser?" followed. I didn't have the answer to this either.

I have to wonder if this was always there and I just never allowed myself to even think of donning a female gendered wardrobe. I have to wonder if not understanding what transgender is has stunted my looking into whether I could be myself. I am still unpacking all of this. I am also researching sizing and planning to go to a thrift store tomorrow. I don't know if I will purchase anything, but I want to. I also want to talk to my wife. She asked me if I was trans once before. I answered no, but told her that I have always wanted a vagina. I had never told anyone else that before (still haven't).

If anyone out there has gone through the same emotions, scenarios, etc. and has some advice or guidance, I would love to hear from you. I will have an interesting appointment with my therapist this week.

[tjpunkchef]

Sonya Sklaroff - Rainbow Flag, 2017

[tjpunkchef]

This is probably going to make some people mad, but if you're mad about this then you're probably part of the problem. Coming from a bisexual that grew up rural, and hates city living, city lgbtq+ people have been some of the most insensitive and self-righteous people I've spoken to regarding rural lgbtq+ folks issues.

Now, before I really get into this, this is NOT me saying city lgbtq+ people don't face discrimination or oppression to some degree. That is not what this post is. This post is addressing rural lgbtq+ folk, what we face and how many of us are tired of trying to explain to city lgbtq+ that not all of us want to live a city life.

For many rural lgbtq+ folk, staying in the closet 100% and avoiding discussion on lgbtq+ issues is the safest option. It is a sad reality, and one I do hold out some hope will change. Regardless, I am tired of city lgbtq+ people trying to give us the same "solutions" when we talk about our experiences. (Keep in mind the following examples of things myself and other rural lgbtq+ folk have been told are from a primarily American perspective.)

"Why don't you move further north? The south is too homophobic." "Why don't you move to a bigger city?" "Why don't you move to a blue state?" "Why don't you move to a different country?"

Here is the thing: City life is NOT for everybody, and running from places that are currently unsafe for lgbtq+ folk will NOT solve our problems! There will always be lgbtq+ folk living in rural areas. Believe it or not, many of us love our rural locations (not the people, but the place). I don't think many city lgbtq+ people realize that making a huge move isn't the solution they think it is.

That being said, rural lgtbq+ folk, we need to start connecting with each other more. The best thing we can do is help ourselves, and that means a few things. We need to communicate among ourselves, stay updated on significant politically driven events in our small towns and become more active in our towns' politics. This means running for elections (there are SO many smaller elections that can make significant impact that doesn't get enough attention), and voting. Start using rural lgbtq+ tags on social media so that we can all connect better.

[tjpunkchef]

Neil G. Welliver - Skeletons Party, ca. 1950s

[tjpunkchef]

[tjpunkchef]

[tjpunkchef]

Missionary being eaten by a jaguar (by Noé León, 1907)

[tjpunkchef]

Lauren Fogg (American, b. 1990), Plum Night, 2017. Oil on canvas, 127 × 127 cm

[tjpunkchef]

Vincent Giarrano on Instagram

[tjpunkchef]