#never in my life have i met a cis guy whos somehow so masculine feminine and androgynous at the same time

[lowestechelonabomination]

WHY AM I GETTING SO MUCH GENDER ENVY FROM A GUY 2 YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME

[deliadexaerisofficialuniver-blog]

I was reading the Wikipedia article about transgender people and it talks about what it refers to as "early onset dysphoria," and "late onset dysphoria," like, okay... if you experience dysphoria that started later in life, or you came to terms with your identity, or had a change in identity later in life, that's valid, but reading the descriptions in the article, I can't help but feel like they might suffer a bit from a lack of trans input...

The way they read, it acts like trans women who experience dysphoria and feminine identity and gender early in life are all shouting about it and trying to cut our dicks off in the shower/tub, and trying on our mom's clothes and begging for dresses at the age of 3, and like, no..

I have experienced dysphoria as long as I can remember. I didn't ever try to cut my penis off back then, but I was intent on hiding it, wishing it would go away. My parents thought this was weird and tried to encourage me to be "proud" of it. I thought this was weird When I found out my mom didn't have one, I wanted it gone even more. I could no longer rationalize it away as awkward, and weird feeling, but necessary for peeing. When I asked what had happened to hers, my parents said "Girls don't have those." This broke my tiny heart, because according to them, it meant I was a boy, which was the last thing I ever wanted to be. I hated boys. I thought they were gross, mean, and all around horrible. When my parents made me socialize and spend time with little boys my age, I hated it. I wanted to be away from them, back home where I could cloister myself in my room. At the time, I felt like my older half-brother was just the worst. When my older half-sisters got to take time away from their mom to come visit, it was the best. They didn't feel like bullies. They treated me like a little person. 

When I started school, I immediately ingratiated myself with the other girls, and distanced myself socially from boy-world as much as possible. Most of my friends were other girls, and I avoided socializing with the boys like the plague. To me, they seemed gross, mostly dim, and like bullies. There were a few boys in the gifted program with me who seemed different, but they were the exception rather than the rule. Basically, I saw the majority of boys as less like me in every way, and the other girls as more like me, and much more pleasant and safe feeling to be around. It's my understanding that a lot of other girls feel this way too, so I guess this makes sense. And for the record, yeah, I absolutely wished I could've asked my parents for clothes and jewelry like the other girls wore. I was jealous as all get-out. I wanted belly-shirts, jelly shoes, skirts,chunky bracelets and necklaces... I just knew better than to ask...

Going to the Sanrio store at the mall with my sisters when they visited was like a dream. I wanted everything cute and girly in the store, but the only thing that felt gender-neutrally safe enough to ask for was a foam lizard on a walking wire with pink sunglasses. Going shopping anywhere was still torture. I remember vividly, seeing the girls' clothes, feeling this aching inside, wanting to ask for any of it, all of it, for skirts, jelly shoes, bracelets, necklaces, Lisa Frank backpacks... I just knew I couldn't. I knew that if I did ask, I'd be punished, or that at the very least publicly reprimanded and made to feel like there was something wrong with me, because boys didn't get to wear those clothes, or get those accessories, no matter whether I *felt* like a boy or not. All the same, I wanted it all, inside, I *needed* it all. I felt *ANXIETY* inside. I could feel my heart *POUNDING* in my chest, at my silence, *BEGGING* me to break my silence and ask before it was too late and we passed it by to go to the checkout. My whole body felt weak, wibbly, staticy... but I knew better. I just *KNEW* better so I never did. I managed to ask for one notebook with rainbow-space dolphins on it. That was about all I felt safe asking for. I don't remember if it was Lisa Frank or not, but it made me happy.

Anyway, growing up, my parents never really heard me voice my dysphoria, aside from a simple nod of my head when they asked me if I was "ashamed" of my penis in response to the way I always covered it whenever I was naked, and rushed to put on underwear. I remember crying about it once when they basically detained me from my usual rush to cover myself in the fabric, seemingly trying to figure out what was "wrong" with me, why I was so averse to my bottom-half being naked after bathing when they were both naked But aside from that, they got none of the "typical" "signs" that cis people seem to think are somehow just *UNIVERSAL* to a trans youth. I didn't try on *either* of my parents clothes when I was little. To this day, I still don't get that whole concept. I guess maybe I just saw myself as my own person and less like I was destined to grow into a copy of one of them or the other.

Growing up, I didn't really know much about trans people existing, I didn't know there was a word for it. I remember hearing a joke about a "Sex Change" once in some movie or TV show, and because it was treated as a joke, I didn't think it referred to anything *real* I remember watching a Crocodile Dundee movie, I don't remember which one, and seeing a scene which depicted the main character as heroic for sexually assaulting a trans woman in a bar, grabbing her painfully by the testicles until she collapsed... This only reinforced the idea that people with my kind of body weren't allowed to wear dresses. As the movie put it, she wasn't a "real" woman, she was "really a man," and her genitals served as proof, again, reinforcing to 5 year-old me that I wasn't "allowed" to be a girl. I found story-writing, art, video games, and eventually role-playing Dungeons and Dragons with my friends in high-school as my only outlets for the girl I was, who felt trapped inside a cage of a body I hated, not only for feeling wrong, but for denying me my identity.

I was lucky again to be surrounded by other female friends. When I was about to start 4th grade, my parents decided to move, so I changed schools, and when we did, I was forced to socialize with boys and make male friends. Looking back, it makes me wonder if my guidance counselors had said anything about my chosen feminine socialization, essentially if they had "found me out," for almost exclusively making friends and socializing with other girls. I don't know if that was the case or not, but they were intent on pushing me into friendships with the boys in the neighborhood we were moving into. It didn't work though. A girl moved in next door, and she became my closest friend. I guess my parents left me alone about it because they, and all the kids on the bus figured we were dating, and yeah, I thought she was cute, but there was no return interest. We were just friends, and I loved it that way.

We started hanging out playing this game with all my dinosaur toys where we would give them all names and complex personalities and characters and life stories, and basically role-play out their lives as though they were in some soap opera/reality show. I guess it was kind of like the way a lot of girls play with dolls, we just used dinosaur toys. It was kind of my idea at first, but she got really into it with me and we'd play like this basically every day after school until we got more interested in video games. Even then, we still split time with the dinosaur toys, and I don't think we ever really stopped until late in middle school.

Middle school was a weird time for me. I had started to feel like a social reject/outcast in 4th and 5th grade, but Middle School just got worse. I got these bar-framed glasses that didn't really help matters either. The other kids had started bullying me for my feminine mannerisms, the way I walked, talked, cocked my hips out standing and leaning, used my hands when I talked, carried them in front of me, etc. back in fourth grade, but it just got worse in middle school. Everyone assumed I was a gay boy, and they treated me with that violence. Often it was social, sometimes it got physical, until at a point, I'd had enough, and decided to beat the crap out of one of my bullies to say enough was enough. Everyone said I fought like a girl because I attacked with my legs, but I really didn't care. People compared me to a girl all the time, and I guess it was supposed to bother me, but it never did. Nothing in me wanted to be masculine, or saw femininity as a negative.

When I got to high school, I sort of made my own crowd with a few of the other nerds, two guys I'd known in elementary and middle school, with the addition of one of their older brothers I met, and 3 other nerdy girls, two of whom were goth like me, and we formed a D&D group. I was especially close for a time with one of them who rode my bus, and when we were turning 16 (her birthday was the day before mine), she convinced her parents to let us have a slumber party. We went to see Underworld, and came back to her place, where we hung out and listened to goth rock, burned incense, I got to try some of her hemp chapstick, and in the morning she asked if she could put me in some of her clothes and makeup. Hanging out at school, she and a few of my other friends would remark in a non-bullying, more neutral way on how they felt like I was "such a girl," and I'd just reply that I felt like a "Lesbian trapped in a boy's body." It was something I'd heard one of my older half-brothers say jokingly to his friends once, but I meant it sincerely. When she'd finished dressing me, putting me in makeup, and straightening my hair (something my parents wouldn't let me do), she showed me to myself in the mirror, and said "This is how I see you on the inside." I felt a way I had never felt before in my life. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt beautiful. I didn't hate what I saw and wish I was different. It felt right, I felt at home. I wanted to stay in that dress and that makeup forever. I told her she was right. She started taking pictures though, and I couldn't deal with that. I cried and asked her to delete them, which she did. She was upset by this, and looking back I wish I hadn't, but I was afraid. Her parents caught us and disciplined her, saying it was inappropriate, and acting like they thought that being dressed up this way was why I was upset. The real reason was I was afraid of being bullied at school, punished by my parents, even kicked out of school.

I still didn't know trans people were a thing, anything at all about transitioning. At school I drew myself as a girl when one of my friends had drawn herself as a boy, and called it a "gender-bend." I made no secret to my friend that I wished that girl I drew was me.

When we played D&D, I started with a male character, a halfling druid, but when he suffered an untimely fate, I switched to two new characters, a female halfling rogue named Sarah, and an Elven witch named Delia, and I never went back. Delia had actually been written up, drawn, and played in a solo campaign before the death of my druid, but as time went on, she became my main in preference to Sarah, though they inhabited two separate campaigns, and really became an outlet for self-expression. I was goth, and obsessed with the paranormal, so was she, I wanted to be sensual, so she was a very sensual woman. I enjoyed swordplay, so she was a fencer. I loved dance, and wanted to dance, she was a dancer. If I'd been assigned female at birth, I wanted to grow to be a sex symbol, like Britney Spears, so she was. She was even a part time dabbler in music. Arguably she had more character and personality than any other character I ever played at the table. I loved playing the campaign she was in. When we did, I jumped up from the table. I threw on an accent. I threw on her personality, and walked around and basically played her actions in role-playing situations, and even in combat, when she did something really cool. My gaming group decided she was a "self-insert character" the Player's Handbook 2 for D&D 4E described as a character meant to represent a fantasized and idealized version of the self, and... she was. True, a lot of her is fantasy, I can't step into the Feywild to hop across a battlefield, or summon undead spirits or turn into a wraith, but for all intents and purposes, she was meant to be the woman I would be in a world where all that was real. She even carried my airheaded lack of common sense, my love of reptiles, books, getting drinks and having a good time, she was more of a rule-breaker, a rebel, and an all around "Bad-girl" than I would've ever believed I'd become in life, but eventually I did. My Dungeons and Dragons Group stayed together through college, and that was the place where I was most comfortable showing myself, even in this limited way, but still not knowing trans people existed, or anything about them until college when I got to go to a gay bar.

One of my friends brought me to Emerald City in Pensacola to see a drag show, and told me that she wanted to do drag king performances, and that I should try out drag performance as a place to unleash my "inner woman," or as she put it my inner Tarja Turunen. I always envied @Tarja. I wished and dreamt of a life where I could be a singer for Nightwish or some other similar woman-fronted hardcore fantasy metal project. So I agreed. I was so excited.

We weren't quite ready to perform ourselves, but the next show we went to, my friends asked if I wanted to dress up and I was thrilled. I borrowed some of my gf's clothes, which she was super-excited about (She had a thing for trans girls), did my makeup and we went. We had been talking about what my drag persona's name should be and my friend suggested that I use "Delia," the same name as my D&D character. She said it was obvious that character was basically me, and it was fitting, so that was my name for the night. I had the time of my life. I felt beautiful, I felt sexy, I felt free. It was a crowded show followed by a dance party. Lesbians were hitting on me, I felt like I could dance and move on the floor the way I wanted without being judged... I felt alive.

When we started doing shows, it felt like a night of the week to get out of my skin, and be myself. I wasn't a traditional queen, I didn't do camp makeup, or wear the outfits they wore, sometimes I even wore pants... I dressed goth, the way I wanted. I did my makeup in goth style, other queens called me "fish," said they thought I was "a real girl," when I did my first routines, tried to teach me the "right" way to do things, suggested I do some Cher instead of Nightwish and Within Temptation. I didn't care. I did things my way. I rocked goth metal, and Dresden Dolls pieces as Harley Quinn. I used it as my stage to either be myself and live my fantasy of being a metal vocal goddess, or portray my favorite characters. To myself, I wasn't a queen. I was me.

I remember one night in my early days I felt I was looking particularly bomb, looking in the mirror saying "Hello You," A hello to myself. I felt like a blossoming woman, opening up like a flower to my little Thursday night life. I still didn't really know what trans people were though. There was a bigender AMAB person working at the bar who had gone through some transitioning procedures, but we didn't really ask her about herself. I felt like it was private, and just used she/her pronouns for her, having been taught it was a sign of respect to do so for the other queens, and to expect other people to do so for me.

Eventually when my coworkers at the mall, and their friends working in the food court found out about my performances, they introduced me to a trans woman named "Debbie" who worked in the food court, and explained that she was born assigned male. The way they described her transition was a bit transphobic. "She used to be a man but then she got her penis turned inside out and now she's a woman." It set the stage for creating an fear of genital reconstructive surgery that would plague me for 6 years.

They didn't say anything about hormone replacement therapy or other procedures, and she never brought it up when we met. I felt it was impolite to ask about her business, and just treated her like any other woman. She gave me makeup, said "hi" when I saw her at the mall, but we didn't interact much outside of that. She called herself my "drag mom." I never learned anything about being trans from her, but she was the first trans person I ever met and knew was trans.

As time went on, I met another trans person named Sammy. She was a friend of a friend, they'd met at University, and I found out a little bit more about being trans. She had no plans on surgery, didn't talk about HRT, or anything like that. She gave me some old wigs. I learned about social transition from her, and my friend suggested that maybe a social transition might be right for me. I gave it some thought, started occasionally going out in public presenting as female. The first time was exciting and scary... It wasn't something I continued very much outside of going to night classes at Pensacola State before drag shows. I was afraid people would think I was weird. In addition my girlfriend at the time started expressing a desire to incorporate feminine presentation into our sex life, and it made me incredibly uncomfortable, and drove me away from female presentation. I didn't know what to call it at the time, but it was dysphoria triggering. Dressing up the way she wanted me to for sex, stuffed bra and everything would just remind me of how much I wasn't a "real" girl, and how much I wished I had been born a cis woman. At the time, I spent a lot of time talking to my friend about my feelings, and she suggested transitioning, but I remarked to her that I was sure it wouldn't feel real. Again I still had no knowledge of HRT, complete misconceptions of surgery... I told her that the only way I thought I would ever be happy would be if I could wave a magic wand or kill myself and be reborn as a "real" girl. (I didn't know the word "cis" at the time. I considered the two trans women I knew as women and respected them as such, but I felt like the only way I could be happy was if I'd been born cis. I wouldn't learn the realities of transition and hormones and surgery for another 6 years.

Eventually the drag shows at EC lost popularity though, and eventually stopped altogether. I lost my outlet, and felt like a chapter of my life had closed. Eventually the drag shows at EC lost popularity though, and eventually stopped altogether. I lost my outlet, and felt like a chapter of my life had closed. My girlfriend and I had broken up shortly before the shows stopped, and I started seeing a new person, who eventually came out as non-binary, but identified outwardly as a cis woman at the time.

We had actually first met through my nextdoor neighbor right before high school started. We went to a football game together in high school, flirted a bit here and there, they'd gone off to a career in adult film and dance after graduating and had just come back home. Eventually, when I came out, they were very supportive, but at the time we started dating, they wanted to "man" me up. When they brought me home to her parents, they said "Are you sure that's not a girl," and they set to work altering my wardrobe. They pushed me to be more masculine in behavior, treated my feminine behaviors less like they were part of my femininity, and were instead something I needed to "outgrow." Wanting to please them, I started trying to put on a mask of masculinity, but I never felt like it stuck, never felt like it was anything but a transparent act. Eventually they left me for a super macho marine, and I spent many nights crying myself to sleep. I couldn't figure out what to do. I told them I could be more masculine for them, that I'd do all sorts of things to make myself more manly, beef up, whatever it took, all the while hating the very idea more than anything. I just wanted them back. At the same time, I cried myself to sleep thinking that maybe I should just "get a sex change" as I put it, but bemoaning the idea of walking around, feeling like a freak, with a boob job and a sensationless inside-out penis that looked nothing like a vulva/vagina. I thought I'd still smell "like a man," my boobs would look fake, my "vagina" would just be a sensationless hole, I felt like bottom surgery was just for people who wanted penis-owners to be able to have sex with them. I didn't think my vagina would be "mine." None of this was true, but it was what I'd been taught about trans people, and it left me in despair. In addition, dating them had been such an intense psychological experience for me, specifically with regard to my transness. I saw in them everything that was the woman I wished I was. They were bold, sexy, shameless. They were a dancer. They had this dominating power and presence when they walked in a room. They knew what they wanted in life, and they got it. At the same time, they were a free spirit, they went where their whims and the wind took them. They dreamed big and lived big. I wanted to be them, so much, on every level, I felt like I had begun to just live through them, wishing I was them, and being apart, it was like I had lost my sense of self. Being with them was like I had found myself, living in another person, being away from them, too scared to be the woman I was inside, the woman I wanted to be, the woman I saw personified in them in so many ways, I was broken, and I almost killed myself.

Instead of transitioning, I turned back to dating to see if I could found what I lost in another person, and it began an incredibly unhealthy relationship I eventually married into. While we were together, I wanted her to be me for me, I wanted to mold her into the woman I wished I was. I wanted to live vicariously through her. It's something I'm incredibly ashamed and not at all proud of. While we were together, before we got married, I became re-acquainted with a friend I'd had in elementary school gifted who had come out as a transgender woman and was planning her own transition. Other friends of hers had seen or heard about my drag performances while that was a thing, and referred them to me for tips on clothing and makeup, but I honestly had a lot more to learn from her.

Other friends of hers had seen or heard about my drag performances while that was a thing, and referred them to me for tips on clothing and makeup, but I honestly had a lot more to learn from her. Even though she hadn't started HRT, she was the first person to teach me that hormone replacement therapy was a thing, and direct me to websites where I could learn more about HRT, and vaginoplasty, and even see my first actual photos of actual vaginoplasty results. It was life changing. For years, all that had held me back were fears rooted in ignorance and misinformation spread by a transphobic society. Those results I saw weren't just a penis turned inside-out. That surgery was more than a science, it was an art-form.  got to read up on vaginoplasty and learn that it was carried out with care, and attention to detail, that my parts were the same basic building blocks, built into a different shape, and that my vulva and vagina would feel, look, and function normally. I learned that nerves were preserved and sensation was there, aesthetics were there, that I'd have a clitoral glans, labia, external sensation, internal sensation, muscular control, and even some wetness from hormones. I learned that hormone replacement would help me grow natural breasts, and change the distribution of my facial and body fat, and even change the way my body smelled. I went to my (then) fiancee, and was so excited to share all this news. She'd been respectful of my friend's pronouns and very friendly with them, and I thought she'd be supportive of me too. She wasn't.

She told me she'd "signed up for a man," and to "shove it back in the closet or else." I'll never forget those words. We got married a little over a year later, but a few months in, when I came out as bigender her family got violent and things started falling apart. She grew distant and cold, snappish whenever she came home to find me presenting as female, it was obvious she was displeased and wanted me to know it. I told her there'd be more days like this coming, and before long she wanted a divorce.

The up side is that I was free to explore myself more, and I very quickly fore-went the idea of being bigender, as it just wasn't me. There are tons of valid bigender people, but no part of me wanted to continue living as a man. I came out as a transgender woman shortly thereafter once I had decided that I wanted to transition socially, and medically with HRT and GRS. That started it's own rough road, but just coming out and making the decision to transition gave me such a sense of wholeness. I guess you could say I'd known who I was for a long time, really on some level my whole life, but I'd been ignoring it, running from it, trying to compromise it, and at the age of 26 I finally accepted myself. To my closest friends, it came as no surprise. "About time," "Took you long enough," They were happy for me and supportive. For some people in my life, denial was the chosen route of coping. For some, who hadn't known me on as deep a level, somehow even for my own mother, the easiest route was to deny it, write it off as something I was doing to please the new partner I started seeing after my ex-wife, act like it was out of the blue, couldn't be true. I feel like that's similar to the experiences of a lot of trans women who come out in life, whether they experience "late onset dysphoria," or whether they simply didn't have the knowledge that trans people existed, the words to use, didn't feel safe expressing...

For me, my dysphoria was there as long as I could remember, I knew I didn't want to be a boy, my body felt foreign, especially my penis. Any idea of becoming traditionally "masculine" hit me with a sense of dread. I just imagined that all boys must want to be girls. Maybe I just had early onset dysphoria, and didn't have the knowledge to identify what my feelings were, the words to express it...

I know I didn't feel safe even once I found some level of expression in High School, even before I knew what transitioning was, outside of confiding in my closest friends. When kids bullied me thinking I was a gay boy, I couldn't stand it. When they just called me out for being feminine/girly, I never really cared. I didn't see it as a negative. I saw it as me. I saw nothing to be ashamed of, but for them it was a cause for violence. To a lot of cis people from the outside though, especially people who don't know me as well, I feel like it would be easy to look at how I came out later on in my 20's and mistake me for experiencing "late-onset" dysphoria. Really I don't like the term...

I don't like the term, or the way it's defined, or talked about. I feel like it erases experiences of dysphoria that many trans people have experienced for a lifetime and simply not had the language to express. When the Wikipedia article on transgender people talks about "Late-Onset" dysphoria, it makes note to say that trans women who come out in their adult life may be more likely to associate sexual feelings with presenting in women's clothing... And I feel like that needs to be addressed, because a lot of women's clothing that you find in adult life is *DESIGNED* *SPECIFICALLY* to sexualize women's bodies, and frankly I find nothing wrong with a woman who's trans feeling sexy in sexy clothes.

And I feel like that needs to be addressed, because a lot of women's clothing that you find in adult life is *DESIGNED* *SPECIFICALLY* to sexualize women's bodies, and frankly I find nothing wrong with a woman who's trans feeling sexy in sexy clothes. Plenty of cis women feel sexy in clothing that are designed to look sexy, and I find nothing wrong with either of these things. There's nothing wrong with being confident, or a woman feeling like she can own her sexuality and be sexy.

Women are the only gender who literally have clothing designed and marketed at us specifically FOR SEX. Let me say that again: We literally have entire sections of clothing at the store designed JUST for sex. At the same time, women's clothing in general, especially for young adults is made specifically to evoke sexuality. It accents curves, fits tight in all the "right" places. It shows off assets. It's covered in symbols of sexuality and romance. And this is also the culture young women are brought into. To look at ourselves, and the clothing rack, and ask "How can I make myself sexy?" "How can I make a mate want me?" "What accents my tits? My ass? My legs?" When you grow into that slowly, I feel like it's a bit less of a shock, but when you just get thrown into that world of skinny jeans and push-up bras and plunging necklines, stockings, fishnets, leg-shaving, and adorning accessories, where even the baggy sweatpants are fuzzy and say "Juicy" on the ass... It's pretty easy to see where one can have a bit of a shocking "Damn, I feel sexy like all the time" reaction, especially before HRT, and you know what, there's nothing wrong with that...

It's perfectly acceptable for a woman to feel sexy in her own skin, and if she's wearing clothing she feels confident and sexy in, then fuck, it's even perfectly normal for her to feel arousal with that confidence... The problem is that society is too quick to demonize women's sexuality, discourage us from *owning* feeling sexy, or enjoying it. Unless it serves a man's pleasure, our sexuality is taboo. We are allowed to be sexy as eye candy, but if a woman *feels* sexy, that's too much. If a woman looks in the mirror and feels confident, or aroused, that's too threatening for a patriarchal society to deal with, but it's a perfectly normal female experience. Straight women get it, lesbians get it, cis women get it, trans women get it. "early onset," or "late onset" has nothing to do with it, but if someone is just finally delving into that world of sexy clothes as a young adult, or even an adult, It's an adjustment. On top of that, women who are trans who come out later in life may not necessarily know the taboos. They didn't grow up in a world of sexual repression the same way that other women have, where sexuality is shamed and shackled from the moment of puberty.

Frankly I feel like we shouldn't care. I feel like no woman should care. I feel like we should all feel free to rebel against the taboos and be as sexual on our own terms as we want.

Another bigger problem, however, and where I severely take issue with the way a likely cis author has chosen to talk about this as though it were in any way abnormal is that society *LOVES* to hypersexualize trans people, specifically trans women, and make it *weird.* And I really feel like all of this stems from the fact that cis people *DO* in fact see us as sexually attractive, which is perfectly normal and acceptable, but can't deal with it on the basis of ingrained transphobia, and have to blow it out of proportion.

That's why trans porn is one of the highest ranking search categories, that's why trans women all over the internet have our inboxes *FLOODED* with men sending dick pics and going on and on about how much they want to "worship a girl-cock." That's why even cis women end up thinking it's okay to just sexually harass trans women out the wazoo with "best of both worlds," bullshit. The truth is that cis people, even when they won't admit it, can't get enough of us and the sexual fascination they experience over the idea of a woman with a penis, or a man with a vagina, and from this side, let me tell you, it gets fucking old. The problem is that because of institutionalized transphobia, even though cis people *DO* find trans people sexually attractive, publicly, y'all aren't *ALLOWED* to. It's taboo, it breaks social conventions, it shakes the idea of cisheteronormativity to its core, and like many sexual taboos, this leads to fetishization, whether closeted or open, and hypersexualization of trans people whether we want it or not. So that when y'all choose to talk about us, or write about us, the focus is on anything and everything sexual y'all can find, and often, in order to maintain a transphobic status quo, to try to make it weird. Literally the way the article reads seems to say between the lines: "Trans women who come out later in life sexualize themselves and women's clothing and experience a fetish and that's weird." It seems *INTENTIONALLY* skewed to portray the sudden but normal adjustment to feeling sexy in clothing specifically designed by a society that sexualizes women to accent everything sexy about us that it can as something *BIZZARE* and *SEXUALLY DEVIANT*

It's normal to feel sexy in clothing designed to sexualize your body. All women experience this to some extent. It's just less of a sudden shock when you've had an adjustment period, and not something that's talked about all the time when it's normal. Basically, it seems like it's trying to portray this so called "Late-Onset" Dysphoria as being synonymous with a cross-dressing fetish, and that's just not okay, not at all.

Trans women who feel sexy in clothing designed to evoke a woman's sexuality aren't experiencing a cross-dressing fetish. They are experiencing a normal part of presenting as female in a society that sexualizes women and designs our clothes to evoke that.

The article also notes that so called "Late-Onset" Dysphoria experiencing trans women are more likely to identify as lesbians... OH BOY. Seems like they are legit *TRYING* to feed into the autogynephelia myth here...

First off, PLENTY of trans women experience attraction to other women, regardless of when our dysphoria started, or when we chose to recognize it as such. I have experienced dysphoria my whole life, and yet I also like women, and my experiences are far from abnormal. *MANY* trans women with early onset dysphoria are lesbians or otherwise sapphic. The problem is that our society is homophobic, and literally associates liking men as a trait of femininity, and liking women as a trait of masculinity, which is wrong. Orientation has no bearing on gender, or vice versa.

Because of this, a trans woman who likes men is more likely to be recognized as trans early on by her parents, friends, and family members, because liking men is one of those things that society looks at and says "OH! You like men! That's a WOMAN thing!" And this is a load of homophobic bullshit. Many men like men, many women like women. Not to sound trite, but we're here, we're queer, and trans or cis, we'd appreciate it if you'd hurry the fuck up and finally get fucking used to it. Conversely a trans woman who likes other women won't have her orientation flagged as a "reason" she should be looked at as more female, so it's easier to escape recognition by her family and friends.

Upon coming out, family and friends may even respond with confusion: "Wait, you like women? So why would you 'want' to *BE* one?" again, a load of homopohobic and transphobic bullshit. Cis gay men aren't gay because they want to be women, otherwise they'd be straight trans women. Lesbian women aren't gay because they want to be men, otherwise they'd be straight trans men. These are two totally different things. Trans people are sick of it, cis queer people are sick of it, and it's about time society stopped conflating who you like with what your gender is. Liking women isn't an inherently male trait. Liking men isn't an inherently feminine trait. Who you like isn't gendered.

Anyway, PLENTY of trans women who have known dysphoria and identified as women since an early age, whether internally or externally like women. So do many who come out later in life. Acting like it's some special artifact of "Late-Onset" dysphoria is erasive, transphobic, and when coupled with bullshit making it seem weird that a trans woman who comes out later in life feels sexy in sexy clothes, it's problematic as fuck. It seems hand-tailored to split trans women into two groups: The *REAL* trans women who wear our mommies' clothes and try to chop off our penises and demand dresses when we are 3 years old, and the *fake* sexual deviant "trans women" who come out later in life.

The reality is that *ALL* trans women are valid, some of us are lesbians, bi, or pan, and *ALL* women have a right to feel sexually empowered when we put on an outfit we feel we look bomb AF in. So, yeah. This "Late-Onset" Dysphoria bullshit is exactly that, bullshit. Not saying that some trans women don't start experiencing and recognizing our identities later in life, so not saying that late-onset dysphoria isn't real, some trans women don't experience dysphoria at all, and that's all valid. What I *AM* saying is that the way the Wikipedia article on trans women has been written (probably by a cis "expert") is dubious at best, ignorant, and transphobic at worst, and furthermore that the only people who have any right *AT ALL* to be *TALKING* or *WRITING* about late onset dysphoria are *SHOCK*: Trans people who experienced it and embrace that concept/narrative. You may notice that I put the "expert" in "cis expert" in quotes earlier. This is because there is no such thing as a "cis expert" on trans people. We are the only experts. Every trans person has more experience with transness than any cis person ever could.

We live trans lives, we experience them from day one. *WE* are the experts. *WE* are the ones who should be in charge of our narratives, and *WE* are the ones who should be deciding whether our dysphoria was "Early-Onset" or "Late-Onset," or even experienced at all.

For trans women who experienced dysphoria later on in life, came out later on in life, for those of you for whom it took years  to come to terms with your gender, you need to know you are valid. You're allowed to be who you are and love who you want. There's no time that's too late to know yourself, to come out, to start your transition, and you are allowed to feel sexy in whatever clothing you want, and should be free to do so without cis people acting like it's a fetish. You deserve to know that it's normal to feel sexy in clothes that your body rocks, and that you're no different from any other woman, "early-onset" dysphoric trans women, cis women, or trans women who experience no dysphoria, and just know their identity as women.

For cis people... Seriously, cut this bullshit out and stop acting like trans people are weirdly hypersexual or sexual deviants just because y'all want to hypersexualize us out of your own insecurities with finding us attractive. And stop acting like you know what is and isn't "normal" for trans people, or how we experience and express dysphoria. If anything a lot of what y'all term "Late-Onset" Dysphoria is more likely stories like mine... Stories of trans women who knew dysphoria early, but had no language for it, who knew we weren't boys, but also knew that we weren't allowed to be girls, who knew on account of y'all's transphobia that there were *CONSEQUENCES* to asking for the clothes we wanted... consequences for announcing that we were girls, that we felt like we were girls, that we were uncomfortable in our bodies and wished they were different...

Literally, I'm willing to bet that 90% of the time that a trans person comes out later in life, it's literally cis people's fault for creating an environment of hostility and violence towards trans people who do come out. If any repression comes with that, it's similarly also y'all's fault. If you want to fix it, then change trans-focused media to hire trans actors to depict trans people, and trans writers to write our characters and stories. Change the education system to teach about trans people in schools at an early age so that even if we don't learn at home, or have parents who want to prevent us from knowing ourselves, we can learn that we are valid, and be able to acknowledge that and communicate it early.

Seriously, you don't have to make us sexual. It can be as simple as "Some people who are labeled as boys at birth feel like girls and are really girls. Some people who are labeled as girls at birth feel like boys and are really boys." Very G-rated. and even better, throw in "Some people don't feel like either of those labels fits, and might be nonbinary, or not have a gender at all and be agender." "Some people feel like where they fit changes from time to time and are genderfluid." Actually talk about the word "gender" and what it is and means instead of copping out saying "it's a polite way to say sex," when sex and gender are two separate constructs. Let trans people be the ones who tell *Y'ALL* what our experiences are like instead of trying to guess from the other side of the fence based on what your existing transphobic institutions have spoon fed to you to make us seem "weird" and wrong.

Basically, if you're not trans, and you feel like going and typing on a public resource what you feel like we are and aren't, and how you want to define our narratives that you don't experience, kindly shut up, and let us speak for ourselves. We aren't yours to categorize and define, we categorize and define ourselves. It's kind of the essence of being trans. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[writer-and-artist27]

Soup for the Sick

Note: …At this rate, this is already a series. One Piece and Naruto mixed. Never thought I would be getting into it. But @unlucky-marine’s art is something that always brings a smile to my face, and considering @langwrites writing the My Hero Academia-CYB crossover of Shell Game, well…

Yeah, I have no excuse. CP and S&S are still going on, but these little side stories starring the civilian pianist with her older Marine sibling-caretaker are adorable and I like giving something back to Eli. :) So there. Eli got me on the Tomo-Davy sibling train, and I can’t thank them enough for that. I’ve never had someone so outspoken in loving kid!Tomoko whenever I talked to them, so I think the appreciation goes miles now. ^_^

Of course, I don’t own anything except Tomoko and Hisako. Davy belongs to Eli, and Wendy to @ask-lieutenant-wendy.

The theme for this story is inspired by the sea, being SaphiraLynx’s piano cover of Mizuiro no Senritsu from Mermaid Melody. Or, as the translation calls it, the Aquamarine Melody, originally sung by the Aquamarine Mermaid Princess herself. :) The original song works just as well if you want to pull it up~

Please enjoy!

Oh, and Eli? You don’t have to feel pressured in making art for every part of this series, by the way. Only do it if you feel like it. I only write this whole thing because your art brought a lot of happy juice for me in these last days of summer and seeing you on Twitch and talking with you only helped fuel that. Friends look out for each other, and well, considering your theater job? A nice read is something you more than deserve. ;>

The words felt foreign in my mouth. “Jackie-nee’s sick?”

Wendy-nee gave me a sad smile as she sat down on her knees, a hand reaching over to rest on the top of my head. “She’s just resting in her barracks, Tomoko-chan. But yes, Jackie’s sick. It’s a cold, thankfully, so the bad sickness won’t be here forever.”

“How?” was already escaping my throat, and I found myself covering my mouth with both of my hands out of politeness and shock. My caretaker wasn’t the kind of person who found themselves sick so easily. At least, from what I could tell. When feeling more masculine as Jack-nii, he could easily kick someone’s ass if he wanted to, more so when I heard him mutter once on how he could break all 206 bones in a body. That was cool and kinda scary. When feeling feminine as Jackie-nee, she could then smash a womanizer’s face in with her heel and look beautiful doing it.

Being genderfluid was still something I didn’t know much about, more so considering I was a cis-female, but my caretaker was awesome. Simple as that.

I never thought I would hear the news that they would be sick.

But, alas, Tomoko-chan, my dear. Hisako swirled her glass of…lemonade. Okay. She was doing it while sitting in an armchair like Giovanni from Pokémon or something. All she needed was a Persian. And she was doing The Voice. Woo. We all are mere mortals.

Ugh.

I couldn’t help but find my heart sinking when Wendy-nee’s smile turned a bit more forced, as if frustrated. “I don’t think you want to know, Tomoko-chan. Let’s just say a Flamingo got a bit too angry and leave it at that, okay?” The minute crack in her voice was already enough for me to nod and accept it. I was still 10 in this life, so in Wendy-nee’s eyes, of course I was still a kid. An innocent kid, probably.

“Okay,” I said softly, but I still found myself gently tugging on her shirt collar to pull her in for a hug. It didn’t feel right going about this conversation without doing it. She looked troubled enough already, and my arms could wind around her neck, at least. “I’m sorry for prying, Wendy-nee.”

To my surprise, the blond Marine only laughed softly, arms coming around me to hug back. Aaaaah, she had a similar grip to Mama when she was excited. Tough muscle, but still snuggly. “It’s okay, Tomoko-chan, you were worried. It’s okay.”

I was not expecting her to lift me up anyways, essentially letting my sandals hit air as she pulled away from the hug to grin cheerily up at me. Somehow, I was sitting in her arms, close to her shoulders. Somehow! Aaaaaah, awesome strength. Also, Wendy-nee being 7 foot 2 and being carried that close to her height made everything in the near vicinity feel small, and gosh, being tall feels so cool! Fluttering skirt be damned.

…Don’t judge me on this. I’m still trying to gain height by drinking milk.

Wendy-nee’s purple eyes were now sparkling with something soft as she looked at me with that same grin. Her one curly hair sticking out from her hat tickled as she continued to beam. “Still, Tomoko-chan, what do you want to do now? Do you want to visit Jackie?”

The offer was tempting. Very tempting.

Hisako only swirled her cup of lemonade before chugging it in a few seconds flat. Once all the liquid was gone, she tossed the cup away, the motion accompanied by a small mental CRASH that was of the glass breaking in the mind library somewhere. Hm, she mused. It’s nice, but you’re thinking of something else, aren’t you, dear?

Yep. My Nobody was already reading my thoughts.

“Not now, Wendy-nee,” I shook my head while smiling anyways. “But could you carry me to the kitchen? I wanna cook something first!”

Those same purple eyes blinked at me slowly.

“Huh?”

“Here again, Tomoko-chan?”

The Marine chefs, despite bustling around with food and plates in almost every corner of the kitchen, all seemed to notice me as soon as Wendy-nee dropped me off in the doorway. She had work to do, unfortunately, but at least the big bear hug and bright smile in my direction before she left was a nice send-off.

Still, I was a 10-year old girl in a Sylveon-themed kimono dress, standing in the kitchen doorway, and at this point, the Marines weren’t even fazed. Huh.

Adjustment period is officially over, Hisako mused dryly.

I nodded at the nearest chef who asked with the politest smile I could muster. “Yep! Jackie-nee’s not feeling well, so I thought of cooking!” And then the Embarrassment was coming back in. Why, heart, why. “I-Is that okay?”

Said chef only shrugged with an exasperated smile before pointing to a nearby corner. Almost immediately, some of the chefs cleared away, leaving a small cutting board, knife, oven, and stove in the space left behind. “Go ahead, Tomoko-chan. That counter there’s all yours.”

The bright smile on my face was just as sudden as the swing of Embarrassment from earlier. “Thank you very much, Chef-san!”

The man only scoffed softly in a way reminiscent of Vy’s old Dad, almost in disbelief judging by the noise. In the end, he still nodded in acknowledgement at me as the other staff slowly moved away enough so that I could walk over.

For a corrupt military, the staff’s surprisingly sweet.

Maybe they don’t have a lot of kids around?

My Nobody only shrugged. Then I started hearing whispers while walking past.

“That Jack sure is lucky.”

“Of course it’s the paperwork guy who gets a cute girl looking after them.”

“Why can’t I get someone to drop through a hole in the ceiling to love me?”

Ohhhh! Hisako was smirking. Oh no. My, my, my! Tomoko-chan, you’re popular!

I still ran through the kitchen as fast as I could to get to that corner, because the heat on my face wasn’t going to go down otherwise. Aaaaaaah.

What was wrong with loving a caretaker like a sibling when you didn’t have any? Well, I technically had Kei and Hayate, but there was something different about older siblings than younger ones. In a past life, I was the younger one, and that was a mixed bag. Actually having that memory when it came to my Marine caretaker was the main seal to the deal. I could at least help out without looking like a brat doing it.

Reincarnation had benefits when it was botched. Apparently.

Still, once I got to my corner and got a good stare over everything, my head blanked. Um. “I know I said I wanted to cook something, but what’s good for a cold…?”

Soup? Hisako offered helpfully. Chicken Noodle? Clam Chowder? Gumbo? Or, heck, curry? Anything warm should do!

Those were all good suggestions. Especially since Jackie-nee was said to be resting from her cold.

I looked around. The kitchen staff were currently using a lot of seafood judging by the nearby lobster platter, so the clam chowder was a bust. I wasn’t even sure if I could do gumbo at my age, but chicken noodle soup sounded nice.

Only problem.

The only chicken I could see in the entire kitchen was a big frozen one sitting in the nearby freezer, and the staff were pretty crowded over there.

Ummmm.

Run?

No. This is a kitchen, Hisako.

Point. Fast-walk and try to wing carrying it?

It was an idea.

I tried. I really did. But being a short little girl in a crowd of tall chefs kinda meant being squished. Think any anime/gaming convention, where you would bump shoulders with someone every 5 seconds. It was like that.

“E-Er, excuse me? I’m trying to get through?” Even with my voice cracking, getting stuck in a crowd of moving people meant elbowing, and I was not good at that. Even if Kei had taught me self-defense, this was not the time to be throwing hands! “I-I’d like to get that chicken, please!”

Ignored. Because there was so much hustling and a pre-pubescent voice was hard to make out.

Aaaaah.

And then hands were sliding under my arms and effortlessly lifting me up, and I found myself squeaking. I could already tell that this wasn’t Wendy-nee’s grip, so who—

“Hey, you guys really should look out when in the kitchen. This little lady would’ve gotten hurt.”

Huh?

I looked behind me and met the stare of someone clearly new. I don’t know if he was ever in this kitchen staff before, but with his curly eyebrow, greyish-blue eye, straight blond hair falling down to brush the left side of his face, and muscular arms in spite of the Marine chef uniform, he definitely looked like someone that Jackie-nee would want to take a picture for when it came to bounties. This new person was definitely something. “You alright, ojou-chan?”

He grinned while still holding me up in his hands, and I tried not to squirm. Wearing a skirt in the kitchen and being lifted all the while was…yeah. “I-I am, but um, Chef-san?” I gestured to the ground while trying not to inwardly panic. “C-Could you please put me down?” I pointed to my corner. “Over there?”

The new Chef blinked at the direction I was pointing at before grinning again and nodding. “Whatever the ojou-chan wishes~!” I didn’t miss how he hummed before he literally slid over to my corner, ignoring chefs passing him all the while, and I tried not to focus on the sensation of my stomach churning. Motion sickness would be motion sickness.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to think on the stomach butterflies longer than necessary, because he was quick to put me down, still grinning all the while. “Now, ojou-chan.” I was not expecting his smile to turn into a more solemn expression. “What were you doing there? This is a kitchen, and not exactly the best place to play around.”

Aaaah. Another adult. I tried not to pout. “I was trying to get the chicken from the freezer. My older sibling who’s in the Marines got sick, and I was thinking of trying to make Chicken Noodle soup for them!”

He only blinked that same grey-blue eye at me before pulling on a more amused smile. “Oh?” he said softly, before turning his head around to look towards that far-away refrigerator. “Do you at least know how to make it, ojou-chan?”

…Um.

Uh.

I squeaked, “No?”

We did not think this through.

He only pulled on a more confident smile while tossing something into the nearest trash can. Was it…a cigarette? “Well then! Let this cook help you out, ojou-chan!”

I blinked. “It’s okay?”

With that same confidence, he turned to me while twirling a — holy crap, he was twirling a knife. I only blinked once, and then he was brandishing a small bowl of diced…diced onions? When did he— “I’m a cook, ojou-chan. And when a lady is in trouble, it’s natural to help out.” He then sat down on his knees, looking at me with that grey-blue eye, now sparkling. “I’m Sanji by the way, ojou-chan. What’s your name?”

Ah. He reminded me of Leo, at least a little. “I-I’m Hoshino Tomoko, Sanji-san.” Out of habit, I took a bit of my skirt to curtsy. “It’s nice to meet you, and I hope to work with you!”

Sanji-san only grinned. “And I you, little lady.”

He then brandished a bowl of cut carrots. Wow, that was a lot of skill.

Chicken Noodle Soup was, surprisingly enough, simple. Even though I only had Vy’s experience to call from when cooking, Sanji-san was quick. It only took an hour for him to prepare homemade chicken and vegetable broths for the soup, and by the time the chicken hit the soup pot, a warm homey smell was wafting around the kitchen, and I could’ve sworn some chefs were drooling while walking past.

“So, ojou-chan,” he said while stirring the soup with a ladle, “who’s your older sibling?”

Aaaand Sanji-san had to ask just when I was putting dishes away in this little corner. “Davy Jack-san! Currently going by Jackie, but I call her Jackie-nee! I think…” my voice cracked while recalling Wendy-nee’s words. “A Flamingo got angry and gave her a cold? Or something?”

The words were silly, but I didn’t miss how Sanji-san tensed. It almost looked like a shiver went up his spine before a nervous chuckle sounded. “D-Davy Jack, huh…? That’s interesting, ojou-chan.” He then muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear, but all I could make out was, “that explains things.”

Hisako wasn’t having any of it. He’s nice, but I dunno, Tomoko-chan. That reaction wasn’t the best.

Did my caretaker know this guy?

I ended up voicing it. “Do you know Jackie-nee, Sanji-san?”

Immediately, the cook turned to me with a warm smile, turning down the heat to the soup pot while doing so. “Kinda, ojou-chan. It’s a long story. But the soup’s almost done!”

Yep. That was a sudden subject change. So something did happen between them.

And was it just me, or did Sanji-san look sad for a moment?

I blinked, and as soon as I thought that, the glint in that grey-blue eye disappeared. “Still, ojou-chan, wanna go serve this soup to your sibling then? I have to be somewhere, so I can’t stay long.”

Already, I was feeling disappointed. It had only been a few hours but having a cooking companion aside from my Nobody did something. “Will I see you again?”

Sanji-san then turned off the heat entirely before turning to me fully and sitting down on his knees. “Of course, ojou-chan.” He then grinned, reaching over to poke my forehead through my bangs, and I tried not to wince. “Just look for a sail with a skull and a straw hat, and you’ll find me.”

Skull and a straw hat? What the hell is that supposed to be? A pirate flag thing?

I still nodded in spite of Hisako’s incoming rant. “Okay.”

Of course, I would jump on Sanji-san for a hug too. He deserved it, at least.

Jackie-nee was sitting up in her bed at the barracks, reading what looked like a book when I was finally able to pop in. Wendy-nee was still at work along with the other Marines, so it made sense that there was no one else around.

I did my best to balance the soup bowl tray in my hands while hiding it from view. “Jackie-nee?”

She blinked before looking up from her book, and of course I could see that familiar spark that I grew to love so much. “Tomo-chan,” she murmured happily, then coughed softly into one of her hands. “Sorry, I can’t hug you right now. Still — hack — sick. Wendy told you that, didn’t she?”

Even then, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Wendy-nee did say that, but I do have something for you!”

“What’s that, sweetie?”

“Well…” I tried not to run over to her bedside and instead walked over as gently as I could before brandishing the tray for her to take. “Chicken Noodle Soup. To help make the sick go away?”

I still wanted to ask myself how and why I reverted to childish talk when it only came to my caretaker, but the warm smile on her face made the thought process stop in its tracks. “Oh, Tomo-chan.” She looked down at the warm bowl before taking the spoon and blowing at it. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to!” Another pout was coming up on my face now. “I missed you and you deserve something to help you rest better! You work too much!”

At that, Jackie-nee suddenly snorted before laughing softly. “Yeah? I guess so.” The warmth in her voice said everything as she finally took a sip, and then the color was returning to her face as she smiled. “Whoa. Tomo-chan,” she gave me that same warm smile, “did you make this all by yourself?”

Nope. Hisako said for me.

“Nope,” I repeated with a more sheepish shrug. “I had help.”

Now Jackie-nee was confused. “Who helped? Wendy?”

Should I say the name…?

No harm in trying, dear. Hisako only patted my head.

“A new chef in the kitchen?” I found myself raising a pointer finger. “His name was Sanji-san!”

I was not expecting Jackie-nee to nearly drop her spoon mid-bite. “S-Sanji?”

Oh dear. Bombshell.

“Um, he was nice,” I filled in instead, because the sudden silence and the shock in Jackie-nee’s gaze was kinda hard to deal with all at once. “He helped me cut chicken and taught me how to make vegetable broth for next time! He also kept me out from being trampled by crowds and called me ‘ojou-chan’!”

“…What next time?” Jackie-nee said incredulously, but the simple fact that she was still eating was a good sign. At least, I was hoping so. “And, pffft.” I wasn’t expecting her to snort into her free hand. “‘Ojou-chan,’ huh.” But, oh.

She was smiling again.

I sat down at the foot of her bed, trying not to show my confusion. “Jackie-nee?”

She gave me that same warm smile. “It’s nothing, Tomo-chan. Nothing at all.”

And this time, I could believe it. Somewhat. At least while sneaking in one hug.

Hey. I have pride in my immune system, and screw colds! Soup keeps the doctor away!

“T-Tomo-chan, I’m sick…!”

“Just lemme hug you once, Jackie-nee, I missed you!”

Her only response was an exasperated laugh. I could settle for that. It kept thoughts of asking about Sanji-san away for another day.