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Archive for December, 2010

Easing dysphoria…

…or: How I learned to stop worrying and love my pre-transition body. Or, well, not *love* – but like. Um – respect?

 

 

Well, actually, I never did learn how to do that – maybe ‘cope with’ would be better. But, in the spirit of end of the year lists, I thought I’d share some practical tips and hints, mostly culled from the perfect wisdom that is hindsight, on how to get through the years pre surgery and/or hormone treatment.

 

1. For the guys: despite the misleading picture accompanying this post, do yourself a favour and get a REAL binder. I know that bandages are cheap, widely available and produce the flattest possible result – but they also cut off circulation, impair breathing and can – if you bind as tightly as you might be tempted to – cause not only bruising, rashes and pain, but longterm scarring, muscle flattening and damage to the ribs. Trust me on this one – I used bandages off and on for ten years, and never once had the good sense to buy a real binder. Trying to sing with your chest wrapped up is a real struggle. So, don’t be as stupid as I was – TransGuys has a fabulous Binding 101 – read the reviews, work out what would suit you best, save up and get yourself something decent.

 

2. Another one for the guys: I can’t say ‘stop hunching your shoulders’ – I think it’s pretty near impossible when you’re so self-concious about what’s going on with your chest. But do take the time to properly stretch your shoulders, upper and lower back at least once a day. That chronic ache across your shoulder blades doesn’t make anything better.

 

3. Your body is not trying to hurt you. As old-school as the ‘wrong body’ narrative is, I think it comes close to explaining the supreme *wrongness*, the alien nature of our given bodies, or parts of our bodies. That dissonance can easily turn into a complete lack of identification with our bodies as part of ourselves. They turn into places where we feel trapped – these THINGS that don’t belong to us, that betray us every time we look in the mirror, look down, look at someone else looking at us. The anger and the despair that comes from that can be terrible and, for myself at least, it wasn’t truly eased until I’d undergone surgery. There are many, many reasons why the incidences of self-abuse (alcohol, drugs, cutting etc.) are so high in the trans community, but I think that this is probably one of them.

 

So, what to do? Support, and knowledge and, if you’re struggling with a serious problem (bulimia, for example) then seeking professional help is a good way forward. Sharing your frustration with other trans people – understanding your feelings as something natural, that will change, and can get better. But small things, also. Try being consciously kind to yourself. As much as it may need some work, your body is not a stranger, or an enemy. Corny, I know, but make a list of all the parts you actually appreciate – your eyes, or calves, or wrists, anything. Take long baths. Get a great haircut.

 

4. Linked to the last – it’s never too early to start working on a body that feels right. So, ignoring the joys of sloth – find an activity, a sport, a way of moving that makes you feel right. Whether you want to feel stronger, more graceful, more peaceful – more in control – there is something – and you get not only the joy of the activity itself, but physical changes that can really help. Lifting weights works for me. Dance, martial arts, yoga, cycling, jogging, hiking – it doesn’t matter. But find it, if possible.

 

5. Buy nice underwear. Just for yourself. It makes the day brighter.

 

6. Plan your post-surgery recovery kit. Obviously, the practical considerations come first – but, depending on the type and the number of surgeries you’re planning, you may be lying on your back for a fairly long time. Which obviously means books – lots and lots of books – and music – and DVDs. It’s like the best Christmas ever.

 

7. Keep looking forward. Sites like Transbucket are great for research – and also to remind yourself of what you have to look forward to, when it all seems like far too heavy a burden.

 

God knows it’s not easy, and this is just scratching the surface. But it does get better and hey – trangst is character building. Good luck.

 

As C.S. Lewis would say:

 

Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.

 

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That time of year

Christmas is the worst time of year for me, as it is for many people. Whether we’ve lost loved ones through bereavement, estrangement, addictions, conflict – events beyond our control – all the forced jollity, simplistic moralising, saccharine emotive sentiments – they’re a little too much to take.

 

As always, I plan on hiding away with books and music. So – a little Emily Dickinson, to lay it all out in her supremely elegant way.

 

After great pain, a formal feeling comes -

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs -

The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,

And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

 

The Feet, mechanical , go round -

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought -

A Wooden way

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone -

 

This is the Hour of Lead -

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -

First – Chill – the Stupor – then the letting go -

 

Solstice is easier to think about – and the waiting for Spring. For anyone else who struggles with this time of year – courage.

 

I’m counting down till the sun comes back. And, with thanks to James Wright, the knowledge that, with the end of winter, so comes the return of this ecstatic state.

 

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom

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Dear Sir and/or Madam

I got called ‘Madam’ nine times yesterday. Each time the person doing it was acting out of (supposed) politeness. By the time I got home I felt run down, invisible, and more than a little forlorn.

The world needs to change faster.

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I admit, I was a late convert. A very late convert. No childhood memories of shared readings with parents, or staying up late to finish just one last story by the light of a torch. My family weren’t fans, you see. And by the time I’d heard of them, I was already far too arrogant and in love with Russian literature to bother with any stupid English detective novels. Psychological depth? Oh please – compared to Dostoyevsky? Sparkling wit – when you have Bulgakov? Madness.

I was totally and completely and painfully wrong.

Because the thing is – Sherlock Holmes is wildly popular for a reason. And that reason is the fact that Conan Doyle’s creation is sheer fucking genius.

If you’ve already read your way through the canon I hope you’ll be nodding your head in agreement. If not – let me break just three simple points down for you.

1) Holmes’ bad behaviour will make you feel better about your own

Drugs.

“Which is it to-day,” I asked, “morphine or cocaine?”
He raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he had opened.
“It is cocaine,” he said, “a seven-per-cent solution. Would you care to try it?”

Depression.

“What else is there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the dun-coloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material? What is the use of having powers, Doctor, when one has no field upon which to exert them?”

Smugness

“You are Holmes, the meddler.”
My friend smiled.
“Holmes, the busybody!”
His smile broadened.
“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!”
Holmes chuckled heartily.

General disorder

…he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction…when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife in the very centre of his wooden mantlepiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should distinctly be an open-air pastime; and when Holmes in one of his queer humours would sit in an armchair, with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

2) The music

Holmes’ love of the violin is infamous. But did you know of his study into the music of the Middle Ages? His unusual hours of practice? Or his evenings off with Watson at the opera?

3) Holmes and Watson are the most perfect romantic couple of all time. Fact.

Gay Watson? Surely not – he’s obviously bisexual. Gay Holmes, with his “aversion to women” – likely. What happened in private in the bedroom of 221b Baker Street? Unknown. An old married pair? Without a doubt.

It’s an impossible task, to try to sum up that great and enviable relationship is so short a space – but, to sketch the outline…

Holmes’ possessiveness:

“The good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone.”

His presumption:

“Come at once if convenient – if inconvenient come all the same…”

His protectiveness – buying up Watson’s surgery under the most convoluted of circumstances so that he has the wherewithal to return to him?

All beautifully summed up by Watson, of course.

It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

 

Then, when I thought my devotion could grow no greater, Kaite Welsh sent me this link to a little piece of fan fiction – Holmes the child struggling with the limits of Victorian gender norms. If someone ever wanted to write that story up into a full length novel – well – should they ever need an organ donated, they need only ask.

So – go forth – buy the complete collection – make yourself some kind of delectably stodgy old-school English sweet (scones with clotted cream?)  - brew up the tea and start reading. You’ll thank me for it. Go! Now!

(more…)

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Cordially invited, all of you.


Up All Night at the Library Bar

December 14th – 8pm onwards – free entry

Nearest station: Highbury and Islington

The Library, 235 Upper Street, N1 1RU

CN Lester is taking to the stage at Up All Night, The Library’s open mic night showcasing the best of London’s new music talent.

A fusion of folk, alternative and low-fi, CN’s “smoky sensuality” has earned them a cult following. If you haven’t already caught them headlining numerous gigs around the capital, you might have heard them on Wired FM, Resonance FM, or showing off their classical credentials on Classic FM with gender-bending opera troupe En Travesti.

Described by Diva magazine as ‘one to watch’, Hong Kong-born and London-bred CN is currently writing material for a full-length album, saving the world as an LGBTQ activist and promoting their debut EP, Resurrection Men.
For all information, please contact info@cnlester.com and visit www.cnlester.com.
“Up All Night Music organise some of the best new music concerts in the country”


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My namesake

The glorious Mr C.N.

 

It’s almost too perfect to be true. I could be all Jungian, and talk about synchronicity. Or we could just all go drink a little more coffee.

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FTM

Does anyone else have a kneejerk response against being defined as a FTM person/guy? The instinctive reaction to bristle with justified indignation, like some bad movie stereotype of an English lord? “FTM? FTM? I was never bloody F in the first place!”

Poor old brain. It does its best.

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Roz Kaveney is writing more sonnets on the theme of music. Go. Read. Now.

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Tweeting, and so forth

So, um, yes…I’m now on Twitter. And feeling a bit grubby about it, to tell you the truth. So – hit me up. If that’s the kind of thing you like.

 

 

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More guys with make-up

I knew I’d forgotten some important ones. So, more ogling.

 

I have so much envy for Noel Fielding - genius creature

 

Ok, so I was a teenager in the 90s. And if you were a queer, goth teenager in the 90s – well, then you may have wanted to be either one of these guys – my brother and I certainly did. Happy times with the eyeliner.

 

Molko Molko Molko - 'Nancy Boy'? Hell yes.

 

Come on - who HASN'T tried to be The Crow at least once on Hallowe'en?

 

Any more that I’ve missed?

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