Long Distance Relationships

Hello there. It's been six months since I've updated, but here I am.
It's been a busy six months.
I have just a few things I'm going to touch on and then possibly I'll do in-depth updates later this week.

• Six months on testosterone! I shaved (and regret it) the fuzz I had for a funeral.
• I have hair on my legs again! (kinda) After not having hair since 2003 on the majority of my legs, some thigh and knee-cap hair is exciting to me.
• Rachel and the kids met my dad's side of the family.

I'd like to touch on the fact that Rachel and the kids met my family in this post. That's momentous. They never got the chance to meet my dad (in fact, none of my friends did until his passing.) so meeting that side of my family was nerve-wracking to say the least.

I also hadn't seen or talked to most of my family since shortly after my dad's passing in 2008. Needless to say, none of them knew about me being transgender. Officially. I hadn't told them and because I was afraid of rejection and disappointing them, I just kept my distance. It was easier, in a sense, because I wasn't dealing with the drama that can come with telling (and I mean this in the best possible way)* a black family that I'm transgender.

That doesn't mean they didn't know, or have the inkling like everybody else did. My favorite aunt, Aunt Pat, and I have always had a special connection. I used to stay with her when I'd visit my friend who was stationed in Ft. Hood. She would always ask me "Is there anything you want to talk about, baby?" She calls everybody baby. I love it. This was back in 2004-2005. I was still in high school. I hadn't come out to my mom yet. That happened in April, 2005. Aunt Pat just knew and I was always afraid to put words to my feelings. I semi-wish I had done so, but we both agreed that God gave us the perfect timing.

Aunt Pat and my family from Kansas...and the rest of the United States...came to Oklahoma in July because my uncle Gene passed away suddenly. He was kept on life support until some of them made it to say goodbye. Aunt Pat was one of them. Not seeing her for nearly nine years was a fear I don't want to experience again. I had kept tabs. Watching from afar via Facebook vicariously though my siblings and cousins. I wasn't under my birth name on Facebook and only my siblings had me as their friend.

None of that mattered. She gave me the most wonderful hug when she saw me (and I was first in line), that literally melted all of my fear and awkwardness away. The following day, we had "the talk". I explained my journey from day one, why I was so distant, so on and so forth. She explained that she knew something was off, and hoped I would eventually reach out. She had searched and searched for me online, but never found me (which made me feel like I did a good job of covering my past). She also said that it wasn't until about eight months ago that she had worked closely with transgender individuals and openly admitted it would have been harder to accept me had I come out earlier. The honesty, the compassion, and the love that she gave me took away the pain that her words might have had years ago. She accepted me, accepts me, and struggled only once the whole time I saw her. It was amazing.

We went out, Rachel and I, to lunch with Aunt Pat, Uncle Chris, and Raaja (my cousin) before the funeral. My aunt Pat is boisterous, beautiful, warm, welcoming...she's Aunt Pat, guys. She hugged on Rachel before me, she accepted Rachel without hesitation. She even invited us all down to visit whenever we want. That's an offer I intend on accepting. The following day or so, we gathered up my mom and we went to the funeral.

I knew that there would be my extended family and that without Kim (my adorable sister), none of them knew who the hell I was anymore. Kim had added me to the family chat and some picked up on it, but it was not openly discussed. We arrived a few minutes late, thankfully, so we sat in the back with Kim and her mom and step-dad. I saw my youngest brother across the church for the first time in person since he was 11 or so. I was filled with so much pride. He's a good looking kid and he's come from some major shit to be more successful than me...and he's only 19. 

During the ceremony, family got up and shared memories of Uncle Gene aka Uncle Pookie (typically to the older cousins/nieces/nephews that were born before me). My amazing (and protective) sister shared memories that everybody was familiar with; some had even been there! She used male pronouns, she used my name...and nobody batted an eyelash. The stress was melting away and my sister was becoming my heroine. After the service, when everybody did the walking between the pews to give people hugs and catch up, the stress quickly rebuilt and my walls shot to epic heights.

Now, you can say what you will, but my kids have only ever known me as Colby. They don't know anything about my transition other than Riley knows I take a weekly shot that helps my brain and body function better. My fear was being misgendered as well as being called by my birth name. That's stuff they don't know about nor do they need to know unless they ask me directly. Aunt Pat came and gave us hugs. John, my younger brother, came and gave me a hug. It was nice. Then extended family came and they kinda knew I looked familiar but didn't know exactly who I was. Facial hair can do some wonders, but my mom did kinda give it away. Everybody knew my mom. Even people I didn't realize knew my mom.

An aunt came and clearly yelled my birth name and I cringed. I think I will always cringe. I had a beautiful name. My mom was cheeky and my initials were MEG, the first three letters of my first name. Smart lady. All the same, it makes my heart sink when I'm called that. We moved along into the dining area and struggled to all sit together (Kim, John, Matt our brother, our kinda-step-John's-half-brother Alex, and my crew plus my mom's friend Jane). We got it sorted, we ate, we laughed, I pointed out family members to Rachel and Ma. It was pretty good. Then came time for goodbyes.

The misgendering started. The birth name came out. It was stressful. I developed a crazy headache. But I kept on a brave face. I gave my family hugs, we exchanged numbers and became friends on Facebook. I connected with family members I didn't even know existed, but who said they loved me and were so glad to see me. I wonder if it was true or if it was just being polite. We got another invitation to visit my cousin Toni, whom I had a special bond with in middle school. She moved from Kansas to Norman to go to OU. She stayed with Uncle Gene and Aunt Debbie and helped with Josh and Zeke. Then she moved and I didn't see or talk to her unless we were at family reunions. I knew she had gotten married and moved to Baltimore and I always wanted to visit her. Since then, she's divorced, remarried, and moved to Washington, D.C. We will for sure be visiting Toni and her family.

As we were leaving, we had to find Aunt Pat and tell her bye. You don't leave a family function without telling Aunt Pat bye. Rachel, Jacob, and I found her and all gave her hugs. She asked Jacob a few times "Whose Aunt Pat am I?"  and at first, he wasn't getting it. Then it clicked and he said "Mine." and my heart was ten billion times bigger than when we first got there. We piled into the car and we left. My dignity was in tact thanks to my sister and my steel wall. My humility was in tact because of my aunt Pat and Rachel's unwavering support.

I may not talk to any of my family on a daily basis, save for the three I live with. I may not see them often. But they're with me, in my heart, in my mind, and in my veins. They're family. I'm proud that, even though they infuriate me at times, they're mine.

Having Aunt Pat as my aunt makes it pretty easy to be proud of my family. No matter how long we go without talking, or how far away they are, they're mine.

* I mean no disrespect to black Americans, African Americans, anybody of color when I make this statement. It has been exhibited to me in the workplace, in friendships, and on social media that there do exist some black people who are totally against the LGBTQIA communities. My family, and there are at least a few, was gracious enough to not let their personal opinions affect the celebration of life while we were together. But I know from experience that it can be very difficult to be a non-binary person with people of color in your life who are close to you. I'm not sure what breeds the hate/caution/whatever you want to call it because it happens in every single race. It just seems to be more obvious, I believe is a good way to put it, in the black community. That's part of what makes Aunt Pat's acceptance of me so important and special to me.

Week One: #Anticipation

Week one was met with little change, which was expected. I had slightly hoped there would be more visible signs of change, but I knew what I was getting into and what to expect realistically. The only thing that came and went was my voice getting a little deeper, so it could have been sinuses or allergies. I had some jaw pain that wasn't consistent, but I noticed it almost daily. I clench my jaw at night sometimes so maybe. It was just a week of antici........................pation. I'm not disappointed, just excited for the next go round. Here's my video; a summary of what I did and what I expect for next week.

#YUGE #expectations

There is so much to catch up on. Well, not really, but it's been exciting for me, and busy. My hope going forward is to really document what my life is like. Not for business, not for likes or shares, but self-preservation, I suppose. I want to be able to see where I've come from. Amnesia, dementia, Alzheimer's...they take things from us; memories and familarities that can't be given back definitely. I want to be able to look back if I ever forget again and know who I am, know where I've been, and hopefully remember where I want to go.
Where I've been though is an interesting journey. I've never really been shunned or lost that many friends. Not at the time, anyway. As an adult, yeah, it's happened. My high school reunion in 2015 was one where I was confronted by a couple of people who were, as I considered, friends in high school who simply "don't agree" with my "lifestyle." As if I decided this "style of living" is how I intended to live. I have always been transgender. I have always tried to be masculine. I have always been Colby. I have always been me. I just went by another name for over half my (current) life because I simply didn't have the knowledge to name what I was going through.
On December 14, 2016, I finally got in to see an endocrinologist and I got my prescription. That's right, I got my prescription for testosterone. It was an exhilarating and momentous day for me. However, thanks to insurance issues, my initial request was never processed. Instead of continually waiting, I found a pharmacy that doesn't take insurance period. Then, due to money, I had to wait until I could afford it. I was able to get a price quote over the phone, so I knew what I was walking into. I waited. For what felt like an lifetime. Finally. On a chilly Thursday morning, I picked up my very first prescription.
I was too excited to wait for it to be filmed, but I didn't complete the first injection so I did the last little bit and got that on video. I've included a link. I'm really going to push forward with my CoJaRi Productions and use that youtube channel for my further progression. The umbrella is important because even though it's me, it's something I want to be able to share with others who care, who want to be an ally, who are scared, who need guidance, who are curious. I welcome all forms of love and positivity. I also want to dream big. I want to reach people and show them that, even though it sucks right now and you don't feel you'll EVER get the shot or the surgery, it's possible.
I struggle. I'm afraid I won't get to have surgery for one reason or another. I want surgery. I NEED surgery. Having that is part of my identity and will be essential to me living authentically and justly. I will have it. I just have to keep pushing forward. Once upon a time, I didn't think I'd ever have my first shot. Today, I did.

Expectations for week one: I expect roid rage. It's a new chemical, it's increasing something I already have in my system, but it's new. I did decently well with the shot so I expect that with time, the process of pushing a needle in my body will become easier. Just gotta get there. I shaved so I can keep track of how my facial hair grows. I took pictures, too. I'm really trying to document this as best I can. Next week, a video of my shot and my update will be posted...I'll also have another set of expectations. Let's see where this roller coaster takes us!

Show Runner

I was up until about 4:15 AM waiting for the verdict of the presidential election (and watching Rocky Horror Picture Show) and went asleep as very different person. I woke up this morning at 6:30 AM and could barely believe my news feed on Facebook. Yes, I had indeed witnessed the beginning collapse of my sense of security. Let's break this down because my mental breakdown demands I figure it out. 1) I am transgender. 2) I am mixed heritages. 3) I use Obamacare/Affordable Care Act.

Being transgender is something I'm dealing with in therapy. I have never wanted to be open about it unless I've needed to or felt safe. Trump wants me, a human being with female reproductive parts but decent facial hair and masculine tendencies, to go to the bathroom with sisters, wives, daughters, nieces, aunts, grandmas...females who identify as females. He also has had an open rhetoric that invites people who are homophobic, xenophobic, transphobic, and whatever -phobic you can come up with that's focused on in society right now to openly attack/dehumanize/express themselves freely. That means: somebody sees me, they feel offended by my identity, they can tell me with their words or their fists. Whatever 'justice' they feel they can give me is the outcome. And because I'm transgender, the rights I already don't have won't be there to protect me. I'm sure it will somehow be my fault, that I asked for this, that I incited this kind of treatment. Am I being extreme? Possibly. But these are LEGITIMATE fears that I have. I am allowed to feel rejected and scared and demoralized. Not for long, but I'm allowed to have this meltdown because the securities I have are being threatened.
On top of being transgender, I'm mixed. My mom is white (but possibly of Mexican descent due to the fact that she's adopted, we will never know) and my father was black. I don't look black, I am mistaken for Hispanic more often than being white or even mixed, but I sure am. That makes me a target as well. Since I'm not from Mexico, it's safe to say I'm not a rapist or a drug dealer, according to Trump. But that keeps me open for discrimination. It allows for others who feel that I shouldn't be here, that I don't fit into the American Ideal, to tell me this. Again, do I feel that I'm being extreme, possibly. Legitimate fears. These are things that other people are thinking, feeling, experiencing. This is not a safe time right now and people are reeling and trying to make sense of their new safety/or lack thereof.
Obamacare has allowed for me to seek therapy. Not just for transgender issues, but because I need to make sure that I am mentally stable. Without it, I wouldn't have insurance because my job doesn't offer it in a traditional manner. I wouldn't be scheduled to get my first shot in about a month. I wouldn't be able to see a therapist who understands me, challenges me to deal with trauma, and who makes sure that I take care of myself and stay authentic to myself. Do you know how hard that can be when the world around you tells you that you're wrong? That you're just playing God and you're unworthy of love and happiness and safety? Yeah...trauma is fucking real people and I'm doing the very best I can to avoid additional trauma because of this election. Trump wants to repeal Obamacare and take away the healthcare that I do have. It's not much and it's not the most fabulous thing ever, but it is helping me live authentically and true to my happiness. That could be taken away from me. I won't be able to see my therapist, I won't get my shots, I won't be able to have surgery. Thus, I could become unstable at any moment and who the hell knows what then. I've got an amazing support around me, that definitely won't happen, but I am an exception. Not everybody is as blessed as I am.

This is not your everyday election. This isn't Bush and Obama, this isn't Obama and McCain. This shouldn't have been Clinton and Trump. There is nothing more scary than thinking that everything you live for, everything you've spent YEARS cultivating and protecting, could easily come crashing down because one man is surrounding himself with people who see me as a threat, a predator, an abomination, a "savage" (according to David Duke) and who don't believe I deserve basic rights because I'm lying and pretending I'm somebody else. If I were a threat or a predator, I wouldn't work with children and the love of my life wouldn't let me near her children. If I were...HALF of what Trump and some of his supporters believe I am, I wouldn't be here. I had somebody tell me today, while I was trying to let them know that Obama didn't TAKE anything away from people and that if people can say "Obama isn't MY president" then I can safely say "Trump isn't MY president" because I don't agree with most of his policies. Somebody told me...they straight up said "why don't you go hang yourself in your master's field?" This person knows me. We went to middle school and high school together. They knew me before, they are - were - a friend on facebook, but we hadn't actually spoken or seen each other in years. They felt that my fear of Trump and his anti-acceptance stance was worth me dying...at my own hands...in a field that doesn't exist, but apparently should because I've got black heritage. Will I always experience this? No. Because I haven't always experienced this. But realizing that there are SO MANY PEOPLE who believe that I am not to be treated as a regular human being because I'm not binary, white, educated is heartbreaking.
So yes, I will be cautious of who I meet and where and when and how I conduct myself around these new people. I will not allow Trump and the vile supporters who wish I'd disappear and/or die scare me away. I will become the change I want to see in the world. I will become a leader and a safe haven and I will make sure that the children I'm helping raise can think for themselves and can still be respectful and kind to others, regardless of their beliefs. Trump may have won the presidency, he may have more control over my life than I am willing to admit, but he will not deter me from being the man I am destined to be. He does not call the shots. I am my own show runner.

Bible Belt, Oklahoma

This is a post that focuses a lot on church, God and religion. Bear in mind that in my eyes, religion is what you make it. My God may not be your God and my God may not be the God you expect. We are all somehow connected. At the end of the day, I'm not 100% sure what I believe, but I have a relationship with somebody/something that I can talk to. Yes, I call it God and I say "Amen" when I'm done talking/praying. I judge not as I am not sinless.

A little bit of background:
I didn't grow up in church. I was given the choice of going to church, of choosing which church I wanted to go to, how long I wanted to be there. I actually wanted to be a pastor at a young age but never thought it was in the cards for me.
Fast forward eight years:
I gave up on established churches for many reasons. I couldn't handle the inability to accept other people's beliefs as truth (your truth may not be my truth and it doesn't have to be to be right), I couldn't understand the intolerance for people who asked hard questions, I couldn't agree with disowning a person because they didn't follow the Bible to a T. I stopped going to church for many, many years. We literally went to church for Christmas Mass and even then, not being Catholic, I couldn't be there. Mainly because I couldn't learn about Catholicism the way I wanted to.
In high school, I found a church home. A place that I felt welcome, felt wanted, and felt like I could be accepted by God. I was still struggling with what it meant to be a Christian and had no clue about the differences between Baptist, Protestant, so on and so forth. I knew very little and was somewhat excited about changing my views, expanding my horizons, and finding a way to reconcile my internal conflict. It took me a couple of months to be comfortable, but because I had so many friends there, it was easy to fall into place.
Fast forward two years and I've got a word for my biggest conflict: Transgender. The Bible didn't say anything about it, but it pretty much felt like I was gay and that was definitely something God didn't want. It wasn't natural and besides, how does population work if you aren't in a heterosexual relationship with God at its core? These are things I "learned" at church. I was transgender and I had actually wanted to be a pastor again. That passion was a roaring fire inside me. I wanted to work with kids like me and let them know that you don't have to be homeless or alone or scared or faithless because God would take care of you if you gave Him your faith and trust.
Then it all came crashing down on me. A very insensitive joke about Catholics and gays was made and I realized that church was not the place for me. I had been raised much differently than what religion/church was teaching me. Be a decent human being, do for others with no expectations, things like that. Making fun of people isn't good or decent, judging people isn't proper, but I was seeing this all over the place and I was more confused and scared than I was when I first walked through the door.
I left that church and I tried another church. I didn't latch on because I had just admitted I was transgender and was still incredibly uncomfortable in my skin. I had already decided on my name, that wasn't the issue. It was the "let's greet those around us" that I just couldn't do. I was crippled by anxiety and I left. That church is now an amazing, all-inclusive church where Norman's PFLAG meets (or used to). I had given up. I figured that God didn't love transgender people and that I was destined to be Godless and would just have to rely on being a decent human being and having fellowship by myself. I was not only letting go of my desire to learn about God, but I was struggling to let go of my dream of being a pastor because, well, I'm transgender and I have no place in the church.
Fast forward four years, 2009:
I'm giving church a chance. I can't say why, but I was. I found a leaflet in my Bible and I was actively taking notes. It was also at the church I thought would be my first home. I'm all about second chances and trying again, but that was a waste of time. I wrote off established churches and established religion because there was no room for acceptance unless you treated it all like a cult. I saw it all as a cult and I wasn't about to lose my new-found confidence in my identity and happiness just to hide and struggle all over again.
Fast forward to 2013:
I go to church a couple of times a year because of circumstances. Dating somebody whose father is a pastor kinda means that if you're at his house on Sunday, you go to church. I wasn't opposed to it, but it did make me somewhat uncomfortable. Her father is passionate. He lives the life of a God-loving man who has God at the core of his existence and he's happy, even when things are miserable. He gives me great advice and helps me navigate things I'm struggling with. I get to see that it's not all rainbows and unicorns. It's also not a cult. It's not something that you have to sacrifice who you are to be in a relationship with God and that's the core meaning. Fellowship is nice and it helps the church stay open, but what matters most is your relationship with God. Which is how I was raised. My mom was on to something.
Fast forward to 2016:
We are required by law to offer religious expression to the kids at work, which I had been taking them to church on Sundays and holidays and when I could. It was okay. I felt it was too commercialized, they wanted money for this and that, but didn't bother to get to know my kids from work or me and it was frustrating. In July of this year, I start going to church with the kids on Sunday morning. The first time I was quite reluctant. I'd been to big churches. There was nothing special about them; judge-y, close-minded, too big, too impersonal. But the message was good. It stuck with me. I went the following week and I was okay. By the middle of September, I was comfortable enough to fill out a communication card. I wrote "What is NAME OF CHURCH'S view on transgender people?" I dropped it in the donation box and passed it down.
On that Sunday morning, I had thought about pursuing being a pastor on my way to work and I prayed "God, if this is the path, give me a sign. Let me know the direction I need to take." During one specific song, I got major goosebumps. I had them the entire song and during the song, I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and I prayed again. "God, is this the sign? Is this really something you want me to do? What's my next step? I give this to you and I accept your guidance." Tuesday afternoon, I had a phone call from a number I didn't recognize so I didn't answer. But they left a message. I checked it when I got outside to my car and it was the church. It wasn't some volunteer, either. It was the head honcho. It was the head pastor of this church.
I couldn't believe it. He said to call him back and he would be happy to talk to me about their stance on transgender acceptance. At the end of the message he said, "CHURCH is a place that is open and welcome to everyone." I was impressed. I felt in his message a genuine warmth and acceptance of my question. There was no hesitation and he spoke like he was confident. I called him back and left a message. He called me back a few minutes later and we had a 10 minute conversation about what has been heavy on my heart.
Transgender people are loved by God. Not only are they loved, they're wanted. God uses us all however He needs us. Remember, my God isn't your God, but everything in the universe is tied together somehow...I firmly believe that. Call it intuition or drive or whatever else you want to call it. For the first time in 13 years, I feel like I can be accepted. I feel welcomed. I feel wanted. Not only that, but this is a place I want to be. I believe that there is a calling for us all and that we sometimes need a nudge to get there. I'm hopeful that this will be fruitful. I'm actually going to introduce myself to the pastor on Sunday. I'm also considering being a pastor again.

Being transgender doesn't mean that you can't be accepted at a church. I didn't realize that until today and it's important to me. I know that religion is important to other transgender folks, but they can't get on board because they don't feel loved or welcomed or wanted. They have rejection from their family, why would God want them? Why would God make them struggle like this if He loves them like the Bible says? God has a plan for us all. Your family may not be supportive of that plan because they don't know what it is, they don't understand it. But that voice you hear may be more than just your inner voice. Listen harder, give it a platform and maybe that voice will be the acceptance you absolutely deserve.

Batter Up

Sorry for the delay. I hate when I have this grand plan for a blog and then I get tired or busy and I don't get around to accomplishing what I wanted. This post actually didn't end how I wanted it to. I wanted to write about the dynamic of being a transgender parent/step-parent, but ended up settling on something completely different. That's not bad, though. This spoke to me more.



I was not openly gay or transgender in high school. I came out to my mom in the last couple months of my senior year. After always seeing myself as a male, I was able to put a word to the feelings I had. I could finally explain why I was attracted to women, but never AS a woman. I didn't even see myself as gay, but I was active in my schools's GSA group. 

I didn't want to be an advocate, even after I came out and met other transgender people. It took probably three or four years for that seed to grow. I wanted to educate people and help others have the (mostly) positive reception I had when I came out. I didn't know what to do or how to do it, but it was a sort of passion.

That passion waned as I stopped chasing my transition. I had changed jobs, finally getting a little comfortable and letting my facial hair grow out just a little bit. Nothing like what it is today. I watched YouTube videos, but the news was usually bad or nonexistent. It was hard to get an accurate picture of what the community as a whole needed or was going through. 

As the news shifted and started to report more transwomen of color being murdered, I had become more comfortable in my skin. I had participated in NoShave November and my mustache was coming in nicely. I was in a stable relationship and I was determined to reach just one person and let them know they weren't alone. 

I joined a YouTube group of other transmen across the US and Canada. We each were assigned a day of the week and agreed upon a topic. It was great and I loved it. We were getting likes and new subscribers every week. We grew up. We went to college, got jobs, started hormones, moved...life happened and we started to fall off. 

I tried to keep up with it, starting an Instagram and Twitter (because I was super active on those platforms at the time) and stay engaged, but even I fell off the horse. It was hard to be a role model when I myself had stalled once again is transitioning. I was planning on starting hormones, but I couldn't afford insurance. I also couldn't afford a therapist. Both were needed for my journey (mind you, all journeys are different) and I was stuck.

I let the group go and toyed with starting a blog, but it felt empty and I didn't know what to write about. I wanted to write about what it meant to redefine life, what it meant to define my position and my journey. In 2013, I changed my name and decided I was going forward and nothing could stop me. 

The journey is always changing. It is something new every day. Some days, it's exciting and I feel really good. Other days, it's a struggle to even get out of bed. Some days,  I want to be a huge activist and raise awareness and help cultivate a strong, inclusive community outside of our niché. Some days, I just want to stay in my lane and do me. That doesn't mean I don't want justice and equality for every living human being, it just means I don't have the fight to take care of more than myself. And that's ok. 

A high school friend of mine recently reached out to me and asked if I would be willing to speak at her school. They're in the planning phases of a GSA and I think it's exciting. It's not just a chance for me to be a part of my community, it's also a push in the right direction. A push to keep going forward. I want to be a success, a role model for kids who don't have one or who are afraid of embracing their authentic selves. I cannot wait to start this new part of my journey. 

Phobia of Consequences

-takes a deep breath-

Transphobia isn't something that I've been in close contact with more than two or three times in my whole life. Living in central Oklahoma, I would think it would have been a more common occurrence, but I've really been blessed/lucky to be sheltered from this side of it. I've been confronted in the bathroom once, about two years ago, and made it out with minor issues. What people don't understand is that being transgender and being targeted can have instant negative consequences. I was shaken and my confidence dropped but, because I was loved and supported, I got through it fairly quickly. That experience couldn't prepare me for what I experienced the other day.

I overheard some guys talking about transgender celebrities. It seemed like a casual conversation, simply just a discussion of who is, who isn't, who pulls it off, who doesn't. Things of that sort. It quickly turned into something darker. One of the guys said "Those people should be treated like the Jews. Fucking put them in some camps and kill those freaks. They deserve it for trying to play God and shit." I listened for a few more minutes, worried about how they perceived me, before I was able to walk away. I had to collect myself before getting on with my day. There was so much I wanted to say, but obviously it was could have escalated into a dangerous situation for me.

Sometimes, trans people have this feeling of "not being trans enough" because we don't fit into the cookie-cutter norms that society wants us to. We are either too masculine, not masculine enough, too feminine, not feminine enough. Seen as freaks, abominations, people who are trying to defy/play God, so on and so forth. This is obviously not the case. I often feel like I'm not trans enough. It's simply programming. When you're born a female, you're expected to be a certain way. Act, talk, walk, think, feel certain ways that are different from how males are expected to be.

When you cross the line of being transgender, that programming can be difficult to undo. Sometimes, even I realize I've done something that natural-born guys wouldn't do. I have to try and be conscious of everything I do and try to be masculine enough to make sure I'm not coming off as feminine or even gay. I certainly don't see myself as gay, mainly because I don't see myself as a female. Many FtM (female-to-male) guys sometimes feel that they just aren't masculine enough. It causes a lot of disconnect at times, because we are struggling to make sense of what we are working with and how we are perceived in the universe.

I was perceived on the outside as whatever. I don't even know. I probably wasn't even on their scope of concern. Nonetheless, the conversation I overheard had an impact on my self-perception. My confidence was torn down. My will was wrecked. I found myself at home, unable to control my emotions. not necessarily fearful, but full of sadness and anger. I struggled to keep the tears away because I felt like all the efforts I've made to "pass" (which means to embrace and live as authentically as I possibly can) have been a failure. Temporary, but a part of my psyche and my spirit broke. Imagine knowing one of the worst atrocities in history happened to a specific group of people and having somebody wish that upon you. A completely innocent person who just wants to live safely and happily is dealing with somebody wishing they would be tortured and murdered simply for being who they are. Something completely out of their control.

I got two hours of sleep before going to work. I cried uncontrollably. I couldn't even talk about it for about 24 hours. I had to try and deal with it myself because the pain was too much. But why? Why was it so powerful and so painful? The answer is easy: Because it is insanely accepted as appropriate. Not a single one of the other guys said anything in defense of transgender people. None of them said anything to disagree. They didn't necessarily agree and I could tell one was a little uncomfortable with the comments, but there was no correction.

I wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself. I wasn't strong enough to stand up for other transgender people who desperately need it. I feel like a failure. I feel like a fraud. It was a missed opportunity and I realize that. I also accept the fact that I am privileged to be American, to be loved, to be supported, to be who I am. I may not have been able to deal with this transphobia as others would have liked. But I can say that I did what was best for me. Who knows what that could have turned into. Transphobia shouldn't be tolerated, especially to that extent. All it takes is an open mind and an honest attempt to learn about something you may not fully understand. Take the negatives you perceive and turn them into positives, if possible.

The Past

Wow. A whole year of absence. I apologize. I had to battle some demons and get myself back in track. I would like to get back on track by telling you all how facing my past did me more good than I ever thought it would.

I went to my 10 year high school reunion over the weekend. I will not lie: I wasn't there because I wanted to. At first. My best friend was incredibly into planning our reunion and making it epic. For about four months, she added classmates who added more classmates, she wanted opinions on gifts/souvenirs and privately discussed her excitement with me about it all. I wasn't into it.
Being transgender, I didn't want to face the possible ridicule or rejection. Even at 29, those things weigh heavily at times. As comfortable as I am in my skin and my identity, I don't like negative confrontation. I was apprehensive and frankly, uninterested. But, I supported my best friend in her endeavor to make our reunion the best ever.
In November, she passed away suddenly of a seizure. One of my first thoughts after the funeral was I had to be at the reunion, for her. Kesha would have drug me there regardless. Our friends and I, some of us anyway, stalled until the last minute. I could still back out, come up with a reason to not participate. But it all felt wrong. Not being there would have been a mistake I could never make right.
At a local pub, I spent Friday night drinking, talking, laughing and rocking out with some of my best friends. People I kept in close contact with, others whom I hadn't seen in 10 years. It was amazing. I was comfortable, I hardly got misgendered, and not a single person called me by my birth name the whole night. It was amazing. I couldn't have asked for more unless I actually asked for something.
Saturday was dualy exciting. One of my best friends married his best friend in a wonderful, small ceremony. This guy and I have been friends since the 7th grade and have always been able to just pick up where we left off no mater how much time had passed.
It hasn't been an easy road. When I told him I was transgender, it definitely altered our relationship. It took us about seven years to catch back up and be able to explain what happened to us. We were naive and uneducated in how to navigate the changes I set forth for us. But, at the end of it all, he asked if he could take me under his wing and help me catch up and assimilate more smoothly into the male community. I was excited as hell, so of course I said yes! He hasn't disappointed me or alienated me. It's been nice to have a sensitive friend who is willing to bring me into his circle and isn't afraid to stand up for me. I'm lucky to have the support I do.
His wedding was beautiful and I was honored to be there. It was also part three of our reunion. I skipped family day at the water park for the wedding. But thebig part of the reunion was after the wedding and I was more nervous for that than any other part of the reunion. More people means more opinions means more opportunity for anxiety to kick my ass.
I only had one person of the dozens I talked to tell me they don't agree. It wasn't negative and I didn't feel threatened. It was just awkward. She's a great person and I'm glad she was able to engage and ask a few questions without being rude or hateful. But I also had two conversations that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

The thing about our pasts, transgender or not, is that all relationships have roots. Whether or not a beautiful tree blooms from watering those roots or not is a product of time, but the roots are always there. I spoke with one amazing person who I knew in elementary school who immediately came to me and initiated conversation by telling me how amazing I looked. Sometimes, that can be delicate. I didn't want to be told I "pass" well. And she knew how to use finese to make it a genuine comment on how I am finally comfortable being me. Wonderful interaction; everybody deserves that kind of respect.
Another conversation was with two people I had classes with. We weren't exceptionally close, but we always said hi in the hallway at school. These two people are, by my standards, successful in what they do because they do what they love to do. The lady honored me by telling me she had paid attention when I first started transitioning on Facebook and checked in from time to time. I was beginning to feel incredibly loved by people I didn't realize knew I still existed.
The guy we were talking with came up and congratulated me on living authentically. He shared how we had an unspoken bond back in 8th grade. It was something neither of us vocalized to the other, but we both felt this safety with each other. It was for our 8th grade Christmas program. He was my partner and I believe we were paired by height. I'm still short, but he was a couple inches taller than I was. I remember being made fun of by some of the popular kids and this guy, who was going through a very similar experience as I was at the time, even though we never talked about it, simply made the experience bearable by being nice to me. Being with him for that helped me maintain a semblance of confidence. Something I was struggling with immensely at the time. I felt normal, safe, and wanted. Maybe wanted isnt the word. It's not. The word I want is accepted. He made me feel accepted when everybody else around me was rejecting me.
Fast forward to 2005. He came out as gay our senior year and it wasn't a surprise to anybody. He decided that his happiness was what mattered. Around the same time, I was figuring out what the word transgender meant. Maybe, subconsciously, his courage propelled me forward. I came out to my mom a month before graduation. Fast forward to 2015. The same kid from 8th grade who accepted me when I needed it most without knowing, was giving me multiple hugs and congratulating me on embracing my journey.

It was incredibly easy to talk to these people and their words will forever reverberate in my soul. I never thought I would be able to be in a room with these people and be myself. But with the amount of love and support my former classmates showed me, I'm no longer afraid of my past coming back to haunt me. As scary as it can be, being afraid of being outed, we have to try and live authentically. When we do that, we draw to us people who will respect us and embrace us wholeheartedly. I may not see these people when they come into town, but I will always see them as people in my support system.

Rights Are Rights And Are Right

Did you know they 41% of all transgender people have attempted suicide at least once? Unfortunately, that leaves a large window for our brothers and sisters who have succeeded. Let that sink in for a moment. That means that nearly half of the living transgender community has attempted suicide. I am one of those people. So if you know two transgender people, I make the statistic true. It's a very sad and deafening statistic. Deafening because we should, as a society, be listening to these cries for help. Cries for love, hope, need, friends... Too many of the transgender community have been lost due to their own hands.

But on huge flip side, too many of the transgender community have been lost to senseless violence. Lost to rapes, murders, attacks, vile hatred. All unnecessarily. All without just cause. In November of 2013, only 238 murders had been reported WORLDWIDE. Can you imagine how many more there truly were? Whether the victim was living stealth or were completely unable to be identified and thus slipping through the cracks. Maybe they weren't acknowledged as transgender and were said to be their birth gender instead. That adds insult to injury, in my opinion. Should something ever happen to me, I would hope my family and community had the respect to gender me properly.

I will admit: I am removed from the violence just enough that my personal life has not been deeply affected. Living in one of the most Red states of them all, it does surprise me at times. It does trouble me when I hear about another trans person being murdered, treated worse than trash, being burned, being sexually assaulted. It deeply troubles me. I cannot imagine the fear and the pain. I don't really want to, honestly. I have only been confronted negatively once in a public bathroom but thanks to outstanding men, I wasn't physically harmed. I was on edge and was afraid for a short time afterward, but if I could tell those who looked out for me "thank you", I'd do it in a heartbeat. We all need a little help from time it time.

Trans rights are no different than race rights, than women's rights, than gay rights...the most popular meme I see is "trans rights are human rights" and that hits the nail square on the head. Human rights are basic and necessary. The gay movement wants to be able to marry and have access to family and legal rights such as healthcare, parental rights, etc. and what's so wrong with that? If my friends want a piece of paper that proves their love to each other, why deny them that? More taxes are collected on maried couples, right? Why would we not want that? It can be difficult for single people to adopt (so I've heard, but I cannot confirm this personally), but it's even more difficult for a gay couple to adopt. Why? Is the baby going to grow up and be gay? Not necessarily.

We live in a world where it's still ok to believe in stigmas and stereotypes. Even ones that are severely outdated and need to go out with last weeks trash. It's just not okay. I have lots of friends who may someday want to get married. If you are a transgender person, have not had your gender marker changed, and live in a state thst does not recognize same-sex marriages, you cannot get married in your state. I, too, would like to get married someday (should that be in the cards for me) but I'm not sure I'll be able to marry in my home state. Not sure I want to. But the thought of having such a basic freedom excites me.

If I want to, I should be able to get married. If I want to, I should be able to adopt. If I want to, I should be able to walk freely through my community without fear of being beaten or worse.

W all have something that makes us different from the other 6.8 billion people on this planet. Judging a person because they do not conform to YOUR idea of "normal" is wrong. Because what if you, Mr. All-American Football, do not fit into MY idea of normal? Do I have the right to shame you? To set your truck on fire and carve "DIE FUCKING NORMAL GUY!!" into your red paint job? Oh, you date a pretty cheerleader? I'm going to throw bottles of beer at you two when you walk down the street because your lifestyle are sickening to me! Your choice to be like this is disgusting and I don't agree with it!! I sound crazy, but I don't care because my rights are being hindered due to your secret agenda! How dare you!!!

The hatred out there is so backward. People hate what they do not understand. Of the 41% suicide attempts, how many of them do you think come from some form of bullying or hate towards thst individual? I can't find the number of that, but I'm willing to bet 50% or greater. I can only speak for myself when I say that I did not attempt suicide for attention, nor did it happen because I was being bullied. It happened because I felt like an abomination. Because I would rather die than admit that I wasn't the perfect little girl my mom had wanted and tried to raise. When I realized that I had to love myself and be honest with myself, it would set the example for others to love and appreciate me. It worked. Not many people rejected me, not many people hated me and nobody tried to deter me.

I wish I were able to say the same for some of my brothers and sisters. I wish I could say that the suicide attempt rate was simply 10% or even less. I wish I could say that less than 238 reported cases of murder were reported. But I can't. I realize hate will always be out there in one form or another. But it is up to us, those of us living today, who support equal rights for ALL HUMANS, to stand up for our humanity and save those who need saving, to protect those who need protecting and to do everything we can to educate and get rid of the anger and vileness that exists simply because people do not understand.

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and think suicide is the answer, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1.800.273.8255 Your life is more precious than you may realize. All calls are anonymous. If you feel you cannot call, please contact me via email. I will do all I can to get you in I intact with the resources you need to get through your struggles. I will not abandon you.

Q&A with Crystal

I recently had a conversation with a good friend of mine. She and I hadn't really spent much time talking about my journey. We were talking about the Chaz Bono documentary, Becoming Chaz, which is available on Netflix, and she had some questions for me. Please bear in mind that she is a close friend so we do get a little -ahem- personal. But I am always welcome to positive questions. For me, this is how it should go. Stranger, sibling, friend, family. A respectful conversation where everyone feels valued, trusted and respected. This is a text conversation that carried on between 3:15 am and 5:30 am, give or take 15 or so minutes for other conversations.
She did give me permission to use her name and to use this conversation as an educational tool. Thank you for allowing me to use this conversation, Crystal.

Crystal: I ... respect you so much for being the person you knew you were even when others didn't understand. Watching that documentary made me appreciate your struggles. Every person close to you should watch it

Colby: If you really want to know about my struggles, check out my YouTube channel. Read my blog. I even posted a blog tonight. I can send you the links. Every transgender person has a similar journey to a degree. But each journey is so vastly unique in the same respect. Some FtM want to carry their babies. I can't [do that]

Crystal: A year ago or so I can honestly say I didn't get it and was ignorant

Colby: That's ok. I was ignorant to what it meant from age 14-20 it just isn't easy to understand if you aren't deeply involved. If you don't mind, how did you view it? Maybe it can help me help others. Because I've only had one person who was close to me ditch me because of it. He wouldn't ever talk to me about it and that made it difficult for me to understand because everyone was very supportive

Crystal: Truthfully, I thought it was the concept of "penis envy"

Colby: Oh lord there is that lol but it isn't the root cause

Crystal: I was close minded

Colby: meh. Uneducated? There's nothing wrong with it unless you give out incorrect information and try to educate others in the wrong way with wrong info. You'd be close minded if you never asked questions or never accepted me (or any transgender person)

Crystal: You're cool w questions?

Colby: Always. How else can I help educate?

Crystal: When did you feel like a "boy"

Colby: Probably around school starting. I was infatuated with a little blonde girl in my kindergarten class. I "liked" her more than the other kids. And I also was upset that my best friend, who was a boy, could pee standing up and I couldn't

Crystal: So it was more than just wanting to be a lesbian?

Colby: It was never a lesbian thing. I never thought of myself as a female when I thought about girls. I always saw myself as a male and was very confused in sex ed when body parts didn't match up like they did in my head. I used to think I could like boys if I found the right one. I've also thought if it would be easier to just stay with Rachel and be Colby without hormones or surgeries {there was a personal conversation that prompted this response but I'm sharing because I know some people completely stop transitioning and revert back, but do some just simply stop taking hormones but still live as a man?}

Crystal: Do you plan on having bottom surgery? If that's too personal I understand.

Colby: I would love to, but the results are extremely costly, you need at least three depending on what type (yes there's more than one) but right now I feel like the results are too expensive {and too variable} to be a reality of mine. If stem cell research can be expanded to help change that or the surgery process improves, I will definitely reconsider.

Crystal: That documentary talked about the few there are. They all seem very painful and may not give you the "real" feel you're going for. As your friend is there anything I can do to make you feel more like a "man"?

Colby: With both bottom and top surgery, I'm scared if the scars created. It's very hard to get a sculpted chest without scars in America. I'm not sure what the hell it is, but of the multiple chests I've seen from Germany, that's the place to have it done lol If you are a friend of mine, which you are, all I ask is that you use male pronouns, you never mention my birth name and you never "out" me

Crystal: Are you on hormones?

Colby: No. Not at this time. I took testosterone boosters for a while but they only helped me build muscle. I need testosterone shots if I want the deeper voice and more hair

Crystal: When I speak about you, you'd like me to just say you're a guy and not female to male then? I don't say that but people have asked.

Colby: Right. There's this thing called "stealth" used in the trans community. It's kinda like being in the closet for the gay community. I don't necessarily want EVERYONE I meet to know I'm transgender. I simply am a man. That's all anyone needs to know. But if someone wants to engage in proper dialog or ask for education purposes, then I will talk to them and be honest. But I would rather be what's called a cisman (male who was born a male and identifies as male)

Crystal: Dumb question but you are aware of the side effects of the hormones correct?

Colby: Yes. I'm very aware of the side effects. The outcome outweighs the side effects. And that's why endocrinologists exist. To make sure I get blood work done and make sure I don't overwhelm my body with dangerous levels of t

Crystal: I know you changed your name but were you able to change your gender?

Colby: Usually in Oklahoma to change your gender you have to have a letter of intent from a therapist or a surgeon stating you are going to have surgery so I have not done that yet. But hopefully within the year I will

Crystal: I think you should consider filming your progress if you decide to do more hormones and or surgery...I think it would help others become who they want to be... Do people ever flat out ask you if you're male or female?

Colby: I do plan on filming more once I get over my dysphoria and stuff. Yes. Kids are usually the ones who flat out ask if I'm a boy or a girl. I always tell them I'm a boy, never "it's complicated" or anything. I don't know that they would be confused, but it's not something I want to expose to children without parental consent. I don't want to cross any line

Crystal: Do you feel like a "straight male" then?

Colby: I definitely feel like a straight male. Never felt as anything else honestly.

Crystal: If you weren't w Rachel and were to date would you tell your potential significant other that you are transgendered? Not sure if that's the correct verbiage. No ed right?

Colby: Correct. Transgendered almost sounds like "you used to be a transgender" or makes it sound like it's something you do, not who you are. Always transgender for every way you use the term. You can even shorten it to trans. There no offense in that. I feel as if I would be obligated to tell my partner that I am transgender and let them know my intentions with my life in the event I dated someone new. Luckily for me, Rachel has always seen me as male and had difficulty calling me Megan at work. And when I came out to her, it all made sense and it wasn't awkward, that I recall. Amnesia is a bitch lol

Crystal: Do you feel discriminated against very often? Do other people that you don't know treat you differently that you can tell?

Colby: Really the only time I feel discriminated against is when looking for jobs. People see that I present as male with my facial hair and how I dress but I have a very feminine voice and my records all have a female marker. When in public and when people pick up on cues like how I dress and call me sir instead of ma'am I don't feel discriminated against. And even if a server does call me ma'am I don't correct them. It's a tad but embarrassing and hurts my feelings but it's not so bad that I cry. Just pushes me to "pass" better I guess

Crystal: So sexually speaking, Chaz in the film said his "parts" were off limits, breasts mostly, because it felt "wrong". Do you feel that way and are you able to enjoy sex? I know that's very personal but it made me think you may not get the most out of sex because you don't physically have what males should have.

Colby: And that is touchy for a lot of people. I don't want to give out details that Rachel may not want others to know but nothing is off limits. I very much enjoy sex and have a partner who understands how sensitive I am about my body. It took us a couple of drunken conversations to figure it out but we talked about it and because of that, I never felt violated and we learned together what was acceptable and what was not

Crystal: Right I get no details! I just kinda worry as a friend it's not enjoyable like it should be I suppose?

Colby: It very much is. It's not ideal, no. But it takes communication and understanding and a deeper connection to make it comfortably work for both parties and Rachel and I have that. As a guy who doesn't have the traditional and expected male body parts, being with someone who has obviously been with traditional men it can be intimidating and even frightening to enter into a sexual relationship. That was a very big hurdle for me to overcome and 99% of it was all in my head

Crystal: Prior to you I've never met a trans [person]

Colby: Prior to myself I had never met a trans person either lol It took loooooottttssss of research both online and in my heart to figure out what it meant and what steps to take

Crystal: You make me feel comfortable and it's my favorite thing about you.

Colby: I'm glad. There's never any reason to be uncomfortable. It's not like I'm a journalist trying to put you on blast. I try to mirror my own comfort with others when talking personally so they know they can trust me as much as I trust them

Crystal: You do a fantastic job. You'd be a great therapist. Have you considered doing that before? Chaz helps small children who identify as trans

Colby: I have. I think I want to help trans kids and teens

Crystal: You'd be great. I admire your strength. It can't be easy and it may never be. Would you like to have top surgery in the near future? The documentary said it's about 10 k

Colby: I think it does at some point. At least talking about the transition gets easier. Talking about the past gets less awkward and embarrassing. Yes. Hopefully within a year. I can go to a famous doctor in Florida and stay there for a week for about 10k or spend about half that and stay close to home

Crystal: Would you like to do a fund raiser or anything to help? I'll do anything in my power to assist. You deserve to be comfortable with your body.

Colby: I have considered that and I've donated to a few guys but I think personally I am too afraid to ask for help from others. It's my journey. If I want it bad enough I'll make it happen, right? Idk. Maybe. I'm very much on the fence

Crystal: I think you should reach out more. You have a significant other and close friends who only want you happy and life is just too short to not be who you are... Erika mentioned your Mom had a hard time at first, is she getting better?

Colby: I agree. But I've already lost my life once. At least part of it. Asking for money for an elective surgery seems selfish to me. And I think part of that has to do with society's view on transgender surgeries. It's a struggle between Ma and I sometimes. But she tries very hard when Rachel is around. And she's starts calling me Julio because she doesn't always remember Colby. I think her feelings are hurt because I chose a name nothing close to what she named me. Rachel has to constantly give me the perspective of a mother when I'm frustrated because it should be so simple in my head. But my mother has loved me the same, if not more, since I came out to her. I know she only wants me to be safe, happy and healthy and that I will always be her pride and joy {she also calls me her prince in text messages}

Crystal: Would you be upset if we planned something for you? Obviously we would run everything by you but I'm just curious

Colby: I wouldn't stop anyone from doing anything for me. I would be very much grateful. I would give tshirts or make bracelets or write letters or something to personalize donations if anyone gave them to me. And the more they donate the bigger the prize. Things like that are common. I'd try to make that happen if I or anyone else started a fund for my surgery

Crystal: That documentary really opened my eyes. It would make me so happy to help. I feel like you would be able to truly live your life the way you want to with at least top surgery.

Colby: Well if anything ever happens I will let you know (unless you know first lol) 75% of my issues simply come from my chest. 20% comes from my voice and 5% comes from my weight

Crystal: Would you like to get coffee on your day off and talk more? I enjoy learning about your life. So I was right about the top surgery? It would make you a lot happier?

Colby: Sure. But can I get hot chocolate or tea? Coffee gives me the shits 😳😳 Oh god yes. I need five things to be happy: Rachel, orange juice, top surgery, hormones and a fully stocked xbox to be a happy camper

Crystal: Lol yes. I'll get you whatever you like if it's not crazy outrageous so no strippers this time k? Lol.

Colby: No strippers I promise! Save those for the bachelor party lol

Crystal: Is it too expensive to continue hormones? Erika mentioned you use to take them? And those would be for the rest of your life yes? Do you have health insurance?

Colby: Let's put it this way: if I did take hormones, I don't remember and no longer have a valid prescription. And if I got them illegally, I couldn't begin to tell you where or how I got them. Depending on insurance and the dosage amount, hormones can be from $40-$300 a month for the rest of my life. I do not currently have health insurance so I would have to wait until December when I can enroll with my employer to get it then try and get on t. Which isn't really difficult. Norman has sufficient doctors who will prescribe t. It's just getting the insurance to see them because they are considered specialists

..............

Crystal: So back to the topic! Lol Is there anything I can do to help?

Colby: I get it lol help what? Help me?

Crystal: Yes. In any way?

Colby: Nothing that you don't already do, honestly

Crystal: I always use male pronouns. I never say you're "female to male" I never call you Megan. That's not your name. {cue That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings}
[A friend] did ask and I said you were a male Because you are. I knew he had questions. But I didn't think I needed to explain something so point blank. If that makes sense. I do try to correct people who are derogatory or ignorant. Not just about you but trans in general. I feel like people need to get their facts straight.

Colby: I definitely appreciate that. All of it. Thank you. Society does need to be educated. There are more MtF out there and they get the worst of it. The trans men don't get as much publicity because it's easier to blend in I think

Crystal: I also want you to know I'm here if you ever want to talk about it or vent. I respect you as a person and as a male friend. Even if you never have surgery or take hormones you will always be my awesome guy friend Colby. :)

Colby: Thank you crystal. That means a lot to me :)

...........

Crystal: I know I sound like a broken record but you should be proud of how strong you are. I know it's not easy but you can get through this and I know one day I'll see you in a tux marrying your 🐧

===============

The emoji that probably nobody can see is a penguin face. Penguins are Rachel's favorite animal and it touched my heart deeply when she sent me that text. I have amazing people in my life: my mom, Kesha, Rachel, Maygen, Tiffany, Shelby, Ronnie...people I work with, people I went to school with. The majority of them respect me, they use male pronouns, they call me Colby. They treat me as a male and I have the same social expectations as natural born males have. Sure, sometimes people slip and that's ok. It's not going to happen overnight, it's going to take some time, but the effort people put forth to make me feel comfortable in my skin and in my surroundings is amazing and I'm lucky to have what and whom I have in my life.  Thank you all for being you and for not alienating me. I appreciate your support and love in this crazy, yet necessary and joyful, journey.
If you have any questions, if you need tips on how to come out or how to help your family/friends understand, don't hesitate to contact me. I am more than happy to do what I can to help you with this life-changing decision.

The letter I wish I had written

Mom and Dad,
I'm scared right now. I don't know exactly what I'm experiencing but I've been going through it for the majority of my memories. Why am I not like Jeff? Or Matthew? Why was I born a girl? Did I do something wrong, because I don't understand why it hurts to be me. I don't want to be a girl, because I'm not a girl.

I don't know how to fix this but I'm trying to understand. Please be patient with me. Will you still love me knowing that I want to be your son? Or will you decide I'm too sick for love? I don't feel very worthy of much, honestly. How can someone be so twisted? What happened?

The scars that you don't see go deeper than just my skin. They have been absorbed by my soul. My soul is hard and cold because of the confusion. Something is wrong with me. I'm an outcast and I don't know why. I want to get married and have a family. I want all the dreams for myself that you have for me, but I want to be a groom and a father and a husband. I cannot stand to think or believe I would be successful as a woman, wife, or mother. Those thoughts terrify me more than the unknown.

There must be a word, a study, a science of sorts that can make sense of this. Will you help me please? Promise me that no matter how hard the journey, you will always love me and be there for me. Because I'm your child. I can't do this without you. I don't want to. I'm not your daughter; I never have been and for that I am sorry. But please rejoice in knowing you can have a happy, healthy, loved, loving and successful son.

Love,
your yet-to-be-named son

The Journey

Let's all just agree that sometimes we get side tracked or derailed, right?

Dysphoria, stress, work kids, relationships, friends, family...life. It sometimes causes us to lost touch with things that are pivotal to our growth and our journey. I personally have been dealing with stress, work and dysphoria. Stress from work, stress from dysphoria...depression from dysphoria. It's been a rough couple of months. I've tried to overcome it, but it's a process. Not an easy one. Nobody can bring you out of that. You have to dig deep and be able to bring yourself out of your hole. Help from others is encouraged and appreciated, but even people who know what dysphoria is like, don't completely understand your circumstances.

I have plenty of support from friends and family and I love them and appreciate them to pieces. But the fact of the matter is that they don't get it. They don't feel the pressure or the anger or the sadness I feel constantly. I feel such excitement for my friends and people in groups on Facebook who are having consultations, getting their surgeries, posting their elated post-op pictures. I truly a happy for all you guys and gals. But part of my dysphoria is the fact that I have yet to have my consultation. That's nobody else's fault but my own and I accept that. I still get certain feelings towards myself not having that be part of my journey. Yet.

There is an end, I believe. At least I hope. I see some guys who have had their top surgery who aren't pleased. They don't like their scars. Truthfully, that's one of my biggest fears. I want to be able to embrace my scars. They are part of my journey. So is advocacy. I have a desire to be a trailblazer, an educator, a mentor, an ally, a friend for anyone and everyone who needs a positive role model. I also struggle wanting to be seen as a cis man and not be defined as a trans man. I am a man, it doesn't matter if I had to have surgery to be that man or not. I am a man. Nobody can tell me different. No matter what you say, how you say it: I am Colby James Richardson. I am a self-made man.

My journey may not include natural children, it may not include marriage, it may not include being stealth (to whatever degree, if any). But it is my journey and I am deeply and enthusiastically excited to share it with the world. My journey is my story. My story is my life.

Silly perception

I missed a week due to being sick. I don't really have much to talk about, but I think I have an unexpected topic to share.

When I was in middle school and high school, I didn't have a word for what I was feeling. "Transgender" didn't even register on my radar as something that even existed. Lesbian, bisexual, nothing in terms of sexual preference made sense. I was attracted to girls. I wanted to be with girls and I never saw myself as a female when it came to dating. But I did want something...different.

I felt something I couldn't describe. I had heard about gay people who would get married and have families before the truth either ate away at them or they came out. I thought I could do the same thing. I thought, hoped...even prayed, that if I could find a guy who would find me attractive, I could bury these feelings. I tried, too. I threw myself into someone, made him my best friend and strived to be in a relationship with him.

It became my salvation. If I could make him love me, I could love me. I could get married, experience love, have a family. Keep my family honor. Make my mom happy. I tried. So very hard. It was futile. I cringed the one time he kissed me on the cheek. It wasn't bad, per say, but it was uncomfortable. My brain processed it as tender and kind, nothing to be afraid of, but it was also against what I felt was my nature.

It wasn't until reconnecting with an ex that I fully realized that I couldn't be with a guy, that I had chosen this particular person because I wanted to be like him, not be with him. When my ex and I broke up for the last time in 2006, I had finally put all the pieces together. Colby was more prominent in my attitude and behavior, I was more male and masculine. There was no more need to live two separate lives, no need to pretend I was somebody I wasn't. I was finally able to be me. I was comfortable in my skin...well, I was getting there.

There is this perception, among the gay and transgender communities, that if we push it down hard and long enough, it will go away. If we can find something or someone to just throw ourselves into, we won't focus on what about us isn't conforming to "normal" by societies standards. I did that, I totally did. And I was miserable the whole fucking time. I was miserable for years, until I was able to throw myself into myself. That's when it all made sense.

Don't push it down. Search, research, and search some more. Ask questions. Reconsider the life you have and the life you want. It's hard, that is a given. It's scary, yet another given. But I'm coming to terms with the fact that this is MY life.. I may not have a child of my own blood, but I have two children in my life that I utterly adore and would give my life for. When my mom gets to know them, she will accept them and realize that even though her blood line ends with me, she can still be a grandmother.

The journey isn't roses, it isn't rainbows and unicorns, but it worthwhile. It is. I promise you. I met a woman, after about five years of struggling to find myself, who encouraged the very best in me and inspired me to be the best version of myself. She has given me more than I could ever anticipate. She has helped me on my journey and I am eternally grateful to her for all that she does.

I've stopped trying to throw myself into things to avoid looking in the mirror, to avoid the feelings of being abnormal. I found a way to take what makes me different and make it part of my normalcy, part of my journey. I know who I want to be. I know who I am.

Transgender Reppin' in the Media

Brief note: I work on a collab channel, FTMTRANSformers0, on youtube by making weekly videos. Seeing as I've taken a hiatus from that, and the stress I felt trying to maintain both those videos and my own plus my blog here, I've decided to dedicate one topic a week. And since topics are available through May with my collab, I'll be posting my video and my blog will cover the same topic. I appreciate everyone's support and interest in my journey. Please know that you've all somehow played a role and I thank you sincerely for that.

So, on to the reason you're reading this: Trans representation in the media.
Let's face it: transgender folks just don't get a lot of positive press. The lack of our presence to begin with is beginning to wane, thanks to trailblazers like Laverne Cox and Chaz Bono. You also have Carmen Carrera, who shot into the spotlight with an online petition to make her a Victoria's Secret model; Janet Mock, who appeared twice on Piers Morgan's show (which is now being cancelled - and not due to their interviews), and the porn industry's first transgender actor, Buck Angel. Granted Buck isn't all that well-known and isn't out there every night on the news, he's someone that most transgender people (and a surprising amount of cisgender people) know.

"I always knew that I was me." - Janet Mock
The media likes to blow up the idea of being born as one gender and then suddenly being the other binary gender. What is so sensational about this? The fact that it is unknown is my guess. I'd say that America, at least (because it's where I live and all I can speak for), doesn't understand it completely and you have the people who believe there's a fix or that it can be corrected with therapy or medication or Jesus. I am not a devout Christian...I used to be, though. And the lies I had to hide were crushing. It was so conflicting. The very conservative Christians believe that transgender folks are playing God. They preach that God doesn't make mistakes, but that being transgender is an abomination. If God doesn't make mistakes, why am I as certain I am a male as you are that God exists? How does one reach out to these people who don't understand (but may have the desire to understand)?

The transgender community has certainly made a niche in the online world. Facebook, tumblr, twitter. We are able to be who we truly are with less fear than doing so in public. The time has come to transition (no pun intended) from the security of some anonymity online to being another face of society to be accepted in the big picture. "We should be silent" is not our voice any longer. We are becoming braver, bolder, more honest. A lot of this is thanks to the fact that gay rights are becoming more prevalent. LGBT is all intertwined, even if it doesn't seem like it. When gay people were first fighting for their  rights, transgender people were searching for their voices. It's taken forty plus years since, but the amount of tolerance has more than doubled and we are moving from a "gay rights" way of thinking to a human rights way of thinking. This, my friends, is the direction we must continue to go in. Thanks to trailblazers like Harvey Milk, Chaz Bono, Laverne Cox and Janet Mock, I feel like I can make an impact as well.

Stress

We all have it: stress. It's not fun, it's not something to look forward to, it's not always bad. Everyone deals with stress differently and not everyone realizes that. Stress comes from just about everything you can imagine, from relationships to work/school, from what to eat to where to live, from what to name your hamster to what car to buy. Name it and somebody has probably stressed about it before.
The good thing about stress is it is totally manageable. Whether you take a break and regroup, or you power through, or you break down and cry it out. It always has an end, even if it seems ever-lasting. The key to managing stress is using positive coping skills. For me, that includes listening to music, driving, talking to people, and crying. Some people work out,  others sleep, many isolate themselves. That isn't all bad. Sometimes, you just have to figure it our on your own, in your own time. But you have to remember to reconnect. Make sure that once you figure it out, you grab a cold one with your friends, or take your lover to that new movie they want to see. Hell, call your mom and say "I love you." Maybe she will come do your laundry or send you some money for thinking of her.
Stress came finitely be dangerous if you don't cope with it well. It can lead to depression. A study from early 2013 concluded that there is "a connection between stigma and a respondent's psychological distress". What this means is people who participated in the study exhibited signs of clinical depression and anxiety, at 41% and 33%, respectively. These stressors lead to physical symptoms. Often times, transgender people have a history of self-harm that continues on into adulthood.
There is no end-all, be-all stress reliever. You do what works for you. You just have to remember that the stress will end. Even if you need to get away for a few days. Just take time for yourself, recharge, refocus, and take another crack at it. Stress will come and go, just like the wind. You just have to know how it affects you and handle it accordingly.

If you are suffering from depression and feel as if suicide is the only way out, please reconsider. Text the word support to 741741 and someone will text you back. I know someone listening was enough to save my life. You may also call 1-800-272-8355 to speak to someone at the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. You can even chat online if you are more comfortable with that. Just please reach out.


Resources:
National Suicide Prevention Hotline, suicidepreventionlifeline.org

Transgender People More Likely To Develop Depression And Anxiety, By Susan Scutti, June 21, 2013

     http://www.medicaldaily.com/transgender-people-more-likely-develop-depression-and-anxiety-247044

Privileges

As a trans man ... I don't even like that. "Trans man". I'm simply a man. Being transgender does't define what kind of man I am, my character does.
Being Colby, being the person I am, I haven't had the same privileges as my natural born male friends. You know...sneaking the first kiss, reaching for the hand first, asking my crush to prom, asking my crush to be my exclusive partner in crime... I didn't have those...rites of passage to go through growing up. Coming out as transgender after high school wasn't necessarily a disadvantage for me. It really didn't harm nor help. I would have been accepted, I believe, by my close friends and I think it would have made more sense as to my personality to others. But it didn't hinder me from having a semi-normal high school experience.
Am I disappointed that I didn't get to ask my crush to prom? That my (then) best friend (who was a guy) agreed to go with me because we were friends. I'm sure, on some subconscious level, he felt sorry for me. He could have gone to prom with anyone he wanted. Girls fawned over this guy for whatever reason. I even pretended to be head over heels so others would think I was "normal." But I still didn't get to ask my crush (or even attend) to prom. And honestly, I wouldn't have asked anyone to prom...it's the principle. It's the rite... It's the privilege.
It's not easy being a person in general. We all have our struggles and our flaws. But they can make us beautiful people. I am a much stronger and more beautiful person because of the journey I've been on so far. Being transgender does not define me. It simply means that there are many privileges and rites of passage I didn't get to experience. Most of them will never happen again and I'm coming to terms with that.
I've been granted many other rites of passages that most people won't experience. The first time I went into the men's bathroom and found out they really can be gross as hell. The first time I got called sir on the phone. Even if I was sick, I smiled for days. The first time a cisgender cowboy wanted to beat my ass for being in the men's bathroom. Getting my name changed and all the legal documents that now reflect my chosen name. And one of my favorites...the comradeship that has come from meeting, talking and knowing other guys in my position. They are guys I will forever love and cherish.
It's the little things that many people, cisgender or not, take for granted that men in my position cherish and want to experience. We may not get the chance and we have to accept that, or do something extraordinary to make it happen. I, for one, am willing to do the extraordinary to say that I did indeed ask my crush to prom. Not only that, but she said yes.

Expectations

Expectations exist for all people; young, old, male, female. They exist on our own standards, societal standards and familiar standards. No matter where you turn, something is expected of you. Today, I'm going to hit on some expectations that involve all of that.

Expectations of self: As a trans man, I expect so much of myself that sometimes, I create unnecessary stress. I expect to be seen as a man and when I'm not, I feel like a bit of a failure. It stems from a softer, more feminine voice than a guy should have; having a round face and body, a more feminine looking face and body make it harder to "pass" as a guy.

Expectations from society: Along with having a feminine voice and body, I think society also expects me to fit into a mold that I cannot fit into. I may have been born with female chromosomes, but there is nothing in this world that could ever make me feel comfortable in this skin. I spent 19 years trying to make that happen. Society sometimes expects me, as a man, to be strong, know a lot about tools and cars, fight and love sports to the point that I bleed the teams colors. I can be strong, mentally and physically…but not all the time. I know enough about tools and cars to get by, but I'm certainly sub-par than a couple of my female friends who can put a carburetor together with their eyes closed. I'm not a fan of fighting, unless it's MMA or boxing and I don't bleed purple, black, white, crimson, cream, blue and orange all at the same time. I love sports, I'm a loyal fan to say the least, but I'm not about to punch somebody because their team kicked my teams ass. Expectations from society can be tricky as some people view me as a female and some view me as a male. Finding out how I am viewed is very important in how I respond and interact. Many guys don't want to be perceived as girly and sometimes, I do slip up and say something that most guys probably wouldn't say. It's usually not intentional, but it comes out from time to time. That's just a very fine line that I think someone walks their whole life until they learn to not care what society thinks. I, unfortunately, am not there yet…but I know I will someday get there. 

Expectations from my family: I can't 100% say what expectations they have for me. Neither can they because it's so basic. Handle my shit, basically. Take care of myself, mentally, financially, emotionally and physically. Make sure I pay my bills on time and make sure I reach out when I need something, anything. Most of all, they expect me to be true to myself, be proud of who I am, and be a good person. We all know, especially my close friends, that I can be an ass at times and that can be overlooked, but as long as I'm not the jerk wearing five polos at a time, with every single collar popped while I wear two chains and pimp glasses, we'll be good. 

Expectations are simply a part of life. The key is to find people who will support, respect, accept and encourage you. When you add those people to your innate comfort, confidence and accept your shortcomings, you are set to exceed expectations. Don't give up, don't back down. 

Is That Gonna Leave A Mark?

Surgery. It's huge in general. For any reason, for most people. But what happens when it's something you've wanted since puberty first kick you in the ass? Let me tell you allllll about it!
Now, please keep in mind that I am about to say something that many have scoffed at and isn't exactly...sensitive. But I don't mean it like that. This is something that crossed the mind of a 12-13 year old who had no clue what was going on or why and just wanted it to all stop.
Breast cancer is not funny and I, as an adult, am aware of its consequences. However, when I was a very early teenager, I wished I'd get breast cancer so my boobs wouldn't develop. I didn't know how it worked and didn't understand. All I wanted was to stop the female puberty I was experiencing because it was literally the most terrifying thing that I had ever experienced. I also wished for glasses and braces as a kid. I only "achieved" the goal of getting glasses. 
It wasn't easy but I managed to survive it. It being puberty. It didn't kill me, but there were times, and an insane amount of times since, where I thought it would. Being a bigger trans guy simply meant that it was a little easier to pass with people thinking I had "man boobs." It didn't make it any easier on me knowing the truth beneath my clothes. I won't say that I hate my body because I actually find myself semi-attractive. Attractive enough to not constantly fish for compliments or anything. But I will admit that I have some aspects that are not ideal.
Aside from getting cancer that would result in a doctor removing my manly man boobs, as I do not want to wish that upon myself or anyone else, surgery is the only way to sculpt a more pleasing chest. The questions that arise when you become conscious of this desire (and of age to have it done) are almost never-ending. What doctor do I go to? Are they local? What's the cost? Do I have to stay at the hospital? Can I afford it? Can I get off work? Will I lose sensation in my nipples? And many, many more questions. I've been asking myself these questions for 14 years.
It takes a lot of research. You have a lot of things to consider. The biggest for me personally is actually a tie between cost, location and scarring. If I'm going to spend $7,000 on a new chest, I want it to look good and I don't want any of those deep red/purple scars that can come along with the surgery. I'm willing to travel most anywhere in the US. I'm willing to spend around $10,000.
One question, you might have and I have only been asked once by someone not involved in the decision making process... "what about bottom surgery?" I will be honest with you guys: I don't trust the technology and technique yet. It's getting there, I believe. Maybe in a few years, as the surgery is perfected and science advances, but I'm not prepared for that yet. And I sure as hell am not getting skin grafts from my abdomen or thighs. HELL NAH. First, that shit is painful. Second, those scars are gnarly to say the least. Third, it is extremely expensive and there are so many options that it overwhelms me at times.
Not all trans guys need or want surgery. Some are lucky enough to have small chests to begin with and by simply working out, they can make the pectoral muscles stronger and make the chest firmer. Add some T, whether it be shots, gel, pills or a patch, and you're bound to have a more masculine chest than without. Some guys are more FTN which is Female to Neutral to where they don't necessarily want to be a guy, but they don't want to be a woman. That's a new concept that I discovered tonight and have done very light research so please forgive my current ignorance on the term.
Alas, for most of us, it is a very important part of our gender affirmation. It's something that is absolutely necessary when it comes to transitioning completely. For me, for this guy right here, I want to have surgery. I need to have my surgery. In my perception of what it means to be a man, what it means for me to be complete, I need to have a chest that - scars or not - can't be seen as man boobs or anything like that. It's simply part of my identity and I am excited to have it.

Resources for your own research:
http://www.chicagoftmtopsurgery.com/ (found this gem today - I'm very interested in this surgeon)
http://www.ftmguide.org/chest.html (the first site I used to learn about being trans and transitioning)
http://www.drgarramone.com/ (many many many people speak his praise, also considering him)
http://www.newbeginningsretreat.com (AMAZING facility - most rooms are booked through 2014)

Amnesia and Coping

Watch the corresponding videos:

part one

part two

part three

August 4, 2013

9:41 PM CST

I write this for my blog, so people who read it will get an inside look at what it's like to have amnesia. But honestly, I write it for myself, my heart and my memory.

Amnesia isn't the curse of curses, but in the moment, it sure feels like something in the universe is out to get you. Around 10:18 pm, May 4, 2012, I was driving with Rachel after seeing The Avengers in IMAX at The Warren. We got hit on the passenger side (I was driving) and were pushed from the inside lane (closest to the curb) to oncoming traffic (the outer lane). I had enough wits about me to get us back into the outer lane of our correct direction of traffic. In the chaos, Rachel's glasses flew on the floor and our phones went down. Fortunately, neither driver was operating their phone and driving, even though they were present in the cars.

An off-duty nurse came upon the accident and we all got to the side of the road. Rachel and I just kinda sat there and let the shock slowly come to us. Her car was totaled without a doubt. We even captured a picture to remember the moment. I don't remember taking the picture. We got a ride to my house and I had a slight headache, but didn't think much of it. I was stressed out! We had just been in a major car accident and I felt responsible for totaling a car that wasn't mine. We ended up at the Tecumseh Ave campus where my life took on a whole new outlook.

I started to feel very drowsy in the waiting room as the staff was more concerned with Rachel's injuries. Made sense to me, she had a massive bruise that cropped up within ten minutes of the accident. She went back first and after I was processed through Triage, I went to my room. I rolled over to my side and I ended up dozing off. When I woke up, I was in a strange place with someone asking me how I was feeling. I asked her where I was, when I got there, why I was there…I even asked her if it was an April Fool's joke. Turns out…my life had changed forever.

After testing, slight agitation and freaking out, I finally got to see my mom's face. I was able to calm down and things were very slowly pieced back together. I had heard Rachel's voice for about an hour or so, but was not allowed to see her even though the staff asked me about her every five minutes. It was the only comforting thing I experienced until my mom got there. When I finally got to see this comforting voice matched with a face, it was heartbreaking.

The woman I had come to know for nearly a year, who I was insanely and happily in love with, had instantly become a stranger. I searched her eyes and her face, trying to place how I knew her. Try as I might, I couldn't. It hurt, it made me cry. She held it together. I could read her eyes enough to tell it pained her some that I didn't recognize her. I was able to get some time alone with her while my mom talked to the doctor. I asked her questions and tried to make sense of it with her. 

We had two options that night. To go our separate ways or she could come home with me. I was intensely drawn to her so I asked her to go home with me. I wanted to ask her questions, I wanted to get to know her. It was quite surprising to me to learn I had moved back in with my mom after being on my own for nearly three years. My dog Lucy had grown and her hair was darker. Spencer had so much more white on his body. Emmy had a growth on her paw that I didn't remember. My life was a complete 180 from what I remembered.

In the days that followed, there was meeting with a lawyer, calls from insurance companies, negotiating time off and pay from work and re-introducing myself to people I had grown very close to. I don't think that anyone realized how bad things truly were until they saw me. When I saw the faces of people I worked with and was unable to place them, it hurt my heart. Seeing their reactions to my confusion, I believe, caused them discomfort and pain as well. But, nonetheless, they were amazing and were slow-going with me. They gave me time, allowed me to come to them, and we were able to very slowly rebuild our friendships. But even with that, things were not the same.

I was unable to remember simple things like phone numbers I had previously memorized. I was forgetting to go to doctor appointments. Simple tasks became ordeals for me. I had, at times, the mentality of a child. To be an adult, I pretended that I had everything under control. The only time I couldn't convince anyone, myself included, was when I had my migraines. They would bring me to a sudden halt. There was very little warning I was about to get one and when it hit, there was no amount of medicine that could make it better. There was literally nothing that could be done to bring me comfort.

I had stopped talking to people. I essentially allowed the amnesia to run my life and keep me form reaching out. I felt like a burden and I wasn't able or ready to admit that I couldn't do it on my own. It all came to a head in October when all stability I had known was gone. I wasn't seeing people every day due to unemployment. I wasn't emotionally strong and I allowed fear to harm me. Even with employment in November, my outlook was bleak. I wasn't sure that I would be able to see everything through like I hoped. Relationships were ending, friendships were failing and I let it happen.

I had been told that most memories were expected to return within one week. It was now December and I had only recovered about 60% of my memories. Come February and March, I'd say about 75% had come back. By this point, I was remembering something maybe once every other week. In the beginning, around June and July of 2012, I was remembering several things a day. Since March 2013, I have remembered maybe three specific memories. I've recovered no more than 80% of my memory. 

There are going to be things, people and places that I never remember. A lot of the things I remember came from visiting a place or a joke or a conversation that seemed familiar to me. The epiphany type of memories have ceased even though they were the most common form of memory for me. This time last year, I didn't even have an idea what my life would be like. Looking to the future, this time next year, I have aspirations and I know the direction I am taking.

Amnesia happened to me. It does not define me or what I stand for. It has made me stronger in many aspects and has given me the ability to see challenges from a different light. I share my story with you, in these bits and pieces, hoping that you'll find some form of relativity. We do not have all the answers, none of us do. And people may have thought I had a mental retardation based off my inability to be cohesive in my thoughts and speaking patterns when simply, I was confused and didn't remember conversations.

The people who stood by me in my absolute darkest hours (and months) are the people I cherish the most. They are part of my story. They are part of my strength. They are part of my soul.