“I found making friends with other trans people just made me feel worse”
By Eliza Mondegreen
Ever since I began transitioning, I’ve found myself always ruminating on my transition. I’m extremely paranoid about being outed or clocked and spiral into depression/dysphoria/whatever whenever I think about the fact that I likely will not be in a relationship with anyone. I have top surgery scheduled for this year and at one point, I thought it would help as I’ll appear more male but now, I don’t know. I still will not have a penis and that’s the most important part of a male to most people. My skin is too damaged to have phallo and I just will never realistically be at a weight that a doctor will operate on. My goal weight is still about 40ish lbs higher than most doctors would want and I’m insanely far from that goal weight.
I don’t know how to get out of the ruminating. Please don’t tell me to “go outside” or “touch grass”. This isn’t just an internet thing. I’m at an age where I wish I had something to show for my life-mainly a partner and I can’t help feeling like a loser that it won’t happen. Most cis men will not see me as men. We live in a time where people know how to say the right shit so that trans people/minorities can feel affirmed while the other person gets to indulge in their fetish. I’m considered old by the gay communities standards which doesn’t help.
Most trans people that have been transitioning this long talk about forgetting that they’re trans but it’s the opposite. I’m always reminded that I’m trans and that I’ll never be seen as male if anyone found out.
This woman describes 10 years of “constantly” ruminating over her gender identity, “ever since I began transitioning.” She reports relentless self-surveillance (being “extremely paranoid about being outed or clocked”) and dissatisfaction—despair might be more accurate—about the limits of what transition can offer. She’ll never have a penis. She’ll “never be seen as male if anyone found out” about her transition. But, more importantly, she’ll never see herself as male. There’s a sense in which she doesn’t seem to feel real.
Her upcoming “top surgery” drives home the fact that she doesn’t have anyone to turn to for support: “I don’t have friends,” she writes. She says she “do[es]n’t have community and no, I don’t want a lecture on it.” She can’t even find a sense of belonging in online trans spaces, prefacing her posts with bristling commentaries on her sense of misfittedness (“Since I’m always accused of bringing drama and derision…”).
She longs for connection and an intimate relationship, something her trans identification effectively rules out. If she reveals herself, she won’t be seen as the man she desperately wants to be. If she conceals herself, she won’t be known at all. Then there’s her dating pool, which she’s drained and dredged. She describes herself as “gay”—by which she means she’s straight. She tells herself she’s simply “old by the gay communities [sic] standards” but that’s not the problem, which is much more basic: she wants to partner with a gay man and—by definition—no gay man will want to partner with her. The bi and heterosexual men who might consider her as a sexual partner she dismisses as fetishists:
“I know someone’s gonna call me an incel. I dont’ think I’m entitled to love. I just want to be loved as a man. Not some “Best of both worlds” because someone watches too much trans male porn.’
She feels like life is leaving her behind (“I’m at an age where I wish I had something to show for my life”). It’s hard not to speculate about the uses of her trans identity, which keeps the world at arm’s length:
As I get older, I realize I feel like I’m socializing from behind some type of window/barrier. For example, I’m finishing school and notice people who are close and have become friends while, like every other time, I’m kind of just there. There’s a handful of people I talk to but nothing more. Even when I’ve tried to become friends with people, it becomes apparent they think I’m trying too hard or just…weird.
I know people love to talk about how much of a “loner” they are but I hate it. I’ve been a loner all my life and now I’m at an age where friendships start dying, people have kids/spouses and the rest of my life will be like this. It’s extremely depressing and distressing. I don’t know why I struggle like this but it’s a component in why I’ve become extremely recluse in the recent years. The biggest component is my social anxiety getting much worse lately. I’ve had a therapist say that my rumination on social situations is “Extreme”
It looks like—by identifying as trans and male and gay—she is setting the terms on which she will be rejected, as opposed to being rejected, helplessly, for traits and quirks she did not choose. “I have never really had anyone call me a friend, even people I thought I was super close with,” she says. Now, no one will get too close. Is gender really the problem here?
According to r/FTMover30, she needs to learn to see herself as a man. She is holding herself back. Some argue that “the IDEA of a penis is generally considered important to manhood, but an individual guy’s actual dick? not so much.” Others say she shouldn’t give up on a phalloplasty, no matter her BMI.
A few commenters emphasize the need to develop an internal locus of control (actually good advice, deployed in a completely dysfunctional context):
“The only thing that actually matters within everything in your post – is how YOU feel about YOU.”
“If you don’t see yourself as a “real man” you won’t believe anyone else does.”
“If you don’t believe you’ll find a relationship – then odds are you won’t put yourself in the right situation/be in the right mind set to find one.”
“It matters not even a little bit how people view you – IF you have good self esteem and feel authentic in yourself. I know this to be true because I’ve been in a similar place to you.”
“I haven’t changed the world, I haven’t changed others views, I haven’t forced myself into situations I didn’t feel comfortable in.”
“I’ve worked on through therapy and self work my own self esteem. I don’t care if others don’t see me as a man – I am one. I don’t care if others judge me or think I’m a horrible person etc – I know I’m not one.”
“I’m not trying to invalidate you – it’s actually incredibly empowering when you realise all of how you feel CAN be changed by working on yourself. Changing the world is impossible – changing yourself IS possible.”
“Therapy brother, trans-specific therapy if possible, definitely at least queer friendly. Do you want to be happy? Then you need to invest in your own mental health. If that means sacrificing other things for a while then so be it. You need good support and guidance into a place of self love. I’ve worked in health and fitness over a decade and can tell you that those with poor self esteem and that are critical of themselves struggle and even find it impossible to lose weight. Those that are kind with themselves are much more likely to persist to the point of success.”
Another writes:
I’ve learned to understand what I’m up against. The people who don’t see me as a real man are just seeing the world how they were conditioned to see it: in black and white, based on genitalia. Most of the time I’ve found that it isn’t malicious. There is so much ignorance about trans people, especially about surgeries that can make our bodies appear cis. Their opinions of me once they know I’m trans are not my responsibility bc I KNOW who I am, and how I feel. I do feel a sense of pride in the fact that my very existence has been forcing some people to reevaluate how they see gender.
That doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with reconciling the world vs me tho. It feels like a crushing weight sometimes and I have a lot of bad days. But it is possible to stop caring what the world thinks…even if it is a long journey. I know I’ll get to a better mindset eventually.
And again: this is a ‘you’ problem—not a problem inherent in the impossible promises transition makes:
if this has been going on for over 10 years i don’t think a single comment can help. it’s something deeper than that, that has to do with your self perception and how you view manhood. the truth that most people here know is that like, cis men DO see us as men once we pass. your feeling otherwise signals to me that this is coming from You not seeing yourself as a man in the way you see cis men as men. not to be cliche, but have you considered therapy to talk through these feelings and seeing where they come from?
Another woman writes, “This isn’t about gender. This is a self confidence, self love, self acceptance thing.” Never mind that transition is a self-rejection program.
Finally, the most ubiquitous advice, handed out whenever doubt of any kind is expressed:
“it might be worth trying to find more trans people to be friends with, and maybe date them as well. it’s not like all trans people are just guaranteed to be great people, but having close friends and confidants that can personally relate to what you’ve been through makes things so much easier.”
Spend more time with fellow cult members, consume more cult content. Seal yourself in. Seal the world out.
To this, one commenter confesses: “I found making friends with other trans people just made me feel worse. 😢”
Why doesn’t anything to do with gender identity and transition ever seem to pan out?
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