My Story Part 7 – You Don’t Know What’s Like

This is a continuing series that I am writing based on events that have happened in my life that I have had as a result of being transgender.

When I was coming out, I was sometimes told that I talked too much about being transgender… it was true. But there was a reason why I dwelled on it so much, for 50 years I had to repress all my thoughts, all of what I wanted to say and most of all I could never be myself. My soul was hidden away in a box.

When I finally came out of the dark and into the light of day, I had 50 years of pent-up feelings that just busted out. Most of all, I felt that I had to prove to the world and that I still have to prove to the world that who I am is valid. When the whole world tells you that you are damned and going to hell, that you are a freak, when you are the butt of jokes, when you are laughed at, when your very existences and the right to live is questioned, well you get kind of defensive.

When you hear that an acquaintance had committed suicide, when you hear that two others had tried to commit suicide, when someone comes to the support group with their face all swollen, black, and blue, you start to realize what oppression is. If you have been following my blog, you know that I am going to college for my master’s in Social Work and some of the topics that they cover are oppression and society’s pressure to conform. I know first hand what they are teaching, I have seen it. So if someone that you know is trans, please forgive them if they seem to dwell on the topic, they maybe just getting off their shoulders the weight of 50 years of oppression.