#trans intersex

[intersexcat-tboy]

Growing up I was a trans girl, but now that I've grown I'm a trans guy n I think that's pretty cool, you should too

[intersexfairy]

i think being hyperandrogen intersex has made my experience of antitransmasculinity just... that much deeper, that much more lonely. before i even knew i was trans, i would stare into the mirror and pick my face and body apart. why don't i look like the other girls? what's wrong with me? why do i look so wrong in a dress? why do i feel like i take up too much space? will anyone ever love me?

i was punished for my masculinity and androgyny before i even had the chance to (voluntarily) express it. it stung even more, as i've always had an affinity to traditionally feminine things. where i once found joy and bliss in dressing up and posing for the camera, i found myself hiding my body in hoodies and leggings. if anyone pointed a camera at me, i would collapse to the floor and start having a panic attack.

now, as i've grown older, i've found safety in masculinity and androgyny. people don't find it quite as strange, as if my body/facial hair, broad shoulders, stocky build, and androgynous face make it make sense - femininity is obviously off limits for someone like me, yet it's still expected of me. getting "masculinizing" gender affirming care terrifies me. i'd be casting off the last of what makes me desirable, pretty, and unassuming. but the little girl inside me wants to wear dresses, makeup, jewelry - just this time, as a man.

but men aren't supposed to be pretty - least of all fat, hairy, disabled men. so i'm caught. i can neglect myself, out of fear of being seen as even more disgusting and off putting, just so i can cling to the few expressions of femininity i can display... or, i can be myself, and open myself up to the very hurt i've been trying to avoid all these years. but then, i can look my true self in the mirror, and finally say: you're not like other girls (and that's okay). nothing's wrong with you. you still look beautiful in a dress. you don't take up any space that isn't already yours. and you are already very, very loved.

and one day, i will. because that's what we deserve to hear - trans people, intersex people, people who are both. we deserve to do whatever we need to be our most authentic selves. all this judgement, fear mongering, it's all made up - to hurt us. and that's awful. that's scary, and i hope someday, we live in a world where we don't have to be afraid anymore. and part of me - part of you - knows, one day, we will.

[andytheaspec]

Being a trans dude with PCOS is such an interesting experience I've looked like I was just starting t since I was twelve but it hasn't progressed past that

[our-queer-experience]

I've been thinking about how I've gone about all my gender stuff and it really seems like I've just picked the path of least resistance this whole time.

I'm AFAB, intersex (though didn't find out until after I figured my gender, being mostly hormonally), and aroace. I grow an, admittedly shitty, moustache and beard that I love. My gender? Unlabelled. Any pronouns. I dont really care how I'm referred to so long as I can get the tits gone.

Which brings my to the point of my ramblings. I haven't really done much deciding, genderwise, have I? Like, no name change no pronoun preference no nothing. Half the issue of my tits is that they're ruining my back, and it's hard to say how much of my wanting them gone is that rather than gender.

This isn't even to say that I might be something else. It feels right to me. But I'm also pretty sure if I was, say, a lesbian rather than aroace, I would've said I was butch, instead. Because that would've been the path of least resistance (if I'm even using that saying right).

Which also leads me into wondering other stuff. Like, if I was AMAB, how would that change things? What if i was bi? Pan? Perisex? What, knowing my reasonings for decisions, would I have gone with being born slightly different? Or would I always be this way?

Sorry for the novel-length incomprehensible bullshit. I probably just need a nap.

its fine!!! rants and ramblings are always welcome. and i just wanna say, theres nothing stopping you from calling yourself butch. im a bisexual guy who is also a butch. youre queer, its cool

[isobug]

Transvalerian

( ID 1: A flag with seven horizontal stripes, the middle stripe being thinner, in the following colors: dark purple, purple, lavender, off-white, lavender, purple and dark purple. End ID. )

( ID 2: A flag with seven horizontal stripes, the middle stripe being thinner, in the following colors: very dark blue, dark blue, blue, off-white, bubblegum pink, cherry red and dark red. End ID. )

( ID 3: A flag with seven horizontal stripes, the middle stripe being thinner, in the following colors: dark red, cherry red, bubblegum pink, off-white, blue, dark blue and very dark blue. End ID. )

This term has multiple definitions

Being AIAB / AXAB / UAB ( or having mixed markers / labels ) and viewing yourself as transitioning towards both a masculine and feminine identity, having a primarily masculine + feminine identity, or presenting mascfem / femmasc.

Not identifying with your AGAB(s) / lack of AGAB, and viewing your gender as being masculine + feminine / mascfem / femmasc, while being trans.

Being / identifying with both Transrainian & Transfieldian.

Being fluid between, or all of these definitions.

I choose -valerian because it sounded similar to -rainian and -fieldian but also because "Valerian" is a plant, which exists in fields and is nurtured by rain. So it's a little symbolic. It can be shortened to "Transval" if you'd like ( similar to the shortened Transrai and Transfie. )

The first flag is an exact 50 / 50 blend of the colors used in the Transrainian & Transfieldian flags ( credit to @eldorr . ) Purple is also a color which shows up in Valerian plants! The second and third are just me taking the top / bottom halves of the Transrainian & Transfieldian flags and putting them together. Use whichever you'd like!

Coined for my intersex experiences because I couldn't find a combo term and I relate to both. Not necessarily Intersex-exclusive but since it's so heavily steeped in my / others Intersex experiences, I ask perisex people to please be veryyyy respectful of Intersex people if you'd like to use these.

( "Respectful" meaning the bare bones basics btw. I.e. no "i'm transitioning to intersex!", using the H-slur, or fetishizing our bodies / variations, and similar things to that. )

Taglist - @interarchive, @radiomogai, @revenant-coining

[dream-sans-mogai]

My intersex flag!

I wanted an intersex flag that really embodied the varying gender expressions of intersex people so it's:

Yellow for a community shared by both hormonally, chromosomally and physically intersex people!(Including Asex people)

Pink for intrafems!

Purple for intrafemmascs!

White for fighting intersex stereotypes, perisexist rhetoric that leads to non-consentual surgeries on intersex adults and children and protecting ourselves from appropriative terminology/terminology that often appropriates our condition instead of allyship (certain altersex terms( though is supportive of them generally) and transintersex)!

Green for intraneu and other nonbinary/third gender Intersex expressions!

And blue for Intramascs!

This flag is only to be used by naturally intersex people. If you were not born intersex or naturally developed an intersex condition, this flag is not for you.

This flag is also not inherently an LGBT flag, though it is a pride flag.

This flag is inclusive of cis intersex/cintergender people.

[intersexcat-tboy]

tw: threatening language

we should yank back "transintersex" from radqueers.

im starting to find comfort of being transintersex with my gender autonomy coming from being intersex & im not letting wannabe queers take that from me.

being transintersex is confronting + healing from the constant intersexism that i have to face on a daily basis. it means that i have the power to label my identity how i see fit (hence why i also use transmaveriquine)

its my label and you have to get it over all of our dead bodies.

(our is reference to the queer community as a whole)

Yes absolutely lmao, I've actually talked to my gf abt trying to use the tag more, and a few of my posts have actually managed to make it to top posts!

I highly encourage other actually intersex individuals to use the trans intersex tag (also, i didn't exactly create it but I was the second poster on #trans intersexism, after a few yrs of it not having been used)

[atypical-transfem]

I wonder if other intersex people feel this isolated when you speak about your intersex experience and dyadics are standing an awe and they continuously ask you questions about being intersex.

No hate to the person who did this to me, I just felt really self self conscious, like I'm walking on eggshells when I opened up my mouth. But I'm not your science experiment for you to figure out, I'm just a simple human wanting rights.

[ditzygutz]

My femme is so fucking beautiful 😭😭😭🩷🩷 i am so full of love and life for her every day i wake up overjoyed to have the privilege to exist in the same world as her. 🩷🩷🩷😭💐💐🥲

[boywithbear]

doing another coining and this time it is for certain intersex trans people that don't feel comfortable calling themselves ftm/mtf or feel the term(s) don't fit quite right; it is simply just

IFTM and IMTF!

intersex female to male and intersex male to female! IFTM flag on the left and IMTF on the right

(Can also be used for referring to yourself in the format of 'intersex ftm' and 'intersex mtf' instead of the full iftm and imtf acronyms too!)

It's a very simple change and something I think perisex people could guess what it means when reading it (or at least other trans people)

Of course not everyone will be comfortable with this either, and that's fine! It's just there if it's something that can work for you :]

[Flag descriptions: Flag on the left has 5 stripes being muted mint green, pale yellow, white, pale yellow, and muted mint green. There is a light purple bold circle outline on the flag. The flag on the right has the same type of theme. It has 5 stripes that are light purple, light orange, white, light orange, and light purple. There is a muted green bold circle outline on the flag. End of flag descriptions.]

[britishtophatwithlondon]

I've been wanting to ask you one thing for a long time.

[cordyceptic]

18+ intersex discord server !!

hi, my friend and i made a discord server for trans+intersex people a few years ago and it shriveled up and died horrifically because i only ever posted the link on twitter.

if you are like me and have been wanting to befriend other trans+intersex people but have no fucking idea how or where they even are, come hang out with us!

[fresh-avoguecado]

Growing up as a trans guy afraid of Hell

I have this little creature that lives in my chest, right below my collarbone.

She's always peeking through my eyes, always smiling.

Her name is a tree. Aspen. My inner child or something like that.

She has this thick mane that she wears in pigtails- so often that her hair has semi-permanent dents where the ties grip. 

She doesn't like wearing it down.

She's a little girl who only understands "she" and "girl" to be a conglomeration of sounds used to address her. She makes people laugh and she laughs a lot herself. 

She's curious about the world, the first baby of a family whose children have just turned into adults. She's loved really really well at this age. 

She'll switch to perma-ponytails next. She doesn’t like having hair in her face.

She sees a brown pageboy cap in a store and tries sticking the ponytail up in it. She likes how it looks. Like Newsies.

Aspen cuts the hair short for the first time. Like, committed to the shortness for a hot second short.

Aspen stops using pronouns for Aspen when thinking. Do other girls feel like this? Boys too? They must right? I don't think it's supposed to hurt.

 I'll just keep quiet. I can fix this.

Something in the kid is having trouble seeing the positives of growing up. But puberty is a lifetime away. Aspen has been a kid for forever so far, so that worry- 

-that weird thing called "womanhood" 

  wasn't anything to worry about anytime soon.

Not to worry. Not to worry. Aspen doesn't need to feel worry. 

Aspen is a very mature kid. All the teachers say so. Aspen is a paradox. 

The polite class clown. The charming and desirable tomboy. Everyone likes Aspen. And Aspen likes God so much and so Bravely n' Publicly that everyone in Churchome likes Aspen too.

The wonderkid is thoughtful, wonderfully spontaneous and compassionate. Pretty. Wonderkid is too talented and too well-loved by the family to not have all artistic dreams supported.

Aspen takes a Logic class.

IF  (grateful to have opportunities) AND (want the family to love you/go to heaven)

THEN (- cannot betray the familygod by becoming like that. Like becoming one of those people who are either the butt of a joke or a sexual adventure onscreen.)

Not when they have invested so much.

I was supposed to be better than that.

I-

I-

It would be sinful.

Aspen really wanted to go to heaven.

In heaven- it would all make sense, in heaven, the kid wouldn't feel this way about his body. He wouldn't- she-

I didn't want to be a she. I didn't want to be a she. It was wrong. 

What was wrong with me?

I read on a Christian blog that sometimes the mind needs visual symbolism to help get a point across.

“Try writing whatever negative thoughts you have about yourself on a piece of paper. Burn it, and watch as His light covers over the page and destroys your sin. Give your burden to the Lord.”

I write the word FREAK over and over again on a piece of paper and then I burn it on our porch.

I can fix this.

I. Can. Fix. This. 

I'm so desperate for anything at this point, anything to make the sin of my disgusting ungratefulness go away. I don't understand why God made me a girl. I don’t understand.

Why would He do this to me? I pray for God to show me a reason. God just says "Hold on." Over and over, every time I pray that's all I hear, "Hold on."

I suck up my tears. I genuinely don't know how I will stay alive. I don’t know how many years I’m going to need to “hold on” for until reality itself somehow shifts.

Until the mountains move. 

I am happiest when I am asleep.

But I don't want my parents to know that- I don't want to seem ungrateful or like I'm mentally ill when they have only ever treated me like the perfect faultless angels that they are.

I am a bad daughter.

I hate being a daughter.

I hate being in this body.

I can't fucking escape it.

I can't runaway from my own skin.

I tried I tried I tried-

I’m fifteen, running barefoot on concrete until I leave bloody tracks.

I read and I read and I read. 

I relate to Frankenstein's monster.

I want to stop existing like this more than anything.

"Hold on."

I'm angry at God for sticking me in this gender- from making me live in a world where being trans is a sin. For making it so that obeying Him means living a Freaky Friday nightmare every day of my life for years and years and years until I die.

I’m so scared of being buried in a dress. 

There's this one acting teacher in Aspen's school who doesn't look at Aspen in the same slightly-too-smiley way most men do. 

This guy calls Aspen "kid" exclusively and nonchalantly gives the kid one of his old pirate costumes after a Peter Pan performance. The boy one. 

The one I had been staring at.

The guy teaches me stage combat and makes me captain.

I later learn that he has a husband. I feel seen by him in a way I haven't felt before.

But it's a sin.

But…

I can't imagine him not going to heaven.

Not when his eyes look at me and say “hold on.”

Sometimes the things we talk about in Bible study make me feel…

I shouldn't feel that way.

"Trust in God" is the blanket answer Churchhome gives me when I ask them questions.

"Hold on," says God. The two words are enough to make me keep trying to fix/not hate myself. To survive for that person I'm going to save. To survive for the next version of me. For my phoenix.

"Hold on." The encouragement is somehow enough but just barely.

I hang on to a thread for the next six years.

The kid watches the people with the kind of body Aspen would grow into go about their lives.

The kid watches as all kinds of adults trade their name cards in for adjectives. People keep misspelling “Aspen” as “Pretty”.

Pretty loves to dance. Pretty loves to play piano. Aspen loves being able to express emotions without talking. Aspen didn't like the way Pretty's voice sounds.

There is a noticeable difference between Aspen's voice and the voice of real boys now. The kid tries not to think about it.

There are helpful YouTube videos explaining why God doesn't make mistakes. Why obedience is so rewarding, even it if doesn't feel like that in the moment- even if you can't comprehend ever being a woman and being truly happy. 

Trust me

Trust me

Trust me

Some people act wary around the kid now. The word gay is tossed around briefly. Briefly-

But the kid quickly works to quell those rumors.

I pray to God every day, trusting God to fix me, begging him to change me. To make me a boy- to pluck me out of this reality and let me be born again. Let me start over the right way for I am defective and want a recall.

Aspen needs a change in the brain.

I can only ever be happy as a girl if I have a lobotomy.

Aspen prays for a lobotomy.

Aspen prays for breast cancer.

Take away that part of myself that isn’t allowed to live. 

Dementor-kiss me and let me be pretty without caring. 

Amen Amen A man a man

The kid is lying sideways in bed. Wearing a black push-up bra. Trying to make it feel not alien.

The kid doesn't understand why the body is sobbing uncontrollably.

What's wrong with me? 

Why do I feel like this? 

What's wrong with me? 

What's wrong with me?

The kid tries standing a little wider, tries hunching the shoulders in, and wearing two sports bras two sizes too tight. The frayed straps often leave red rashes. Worth it.

Wonderkid tries it, and starts feeling better.

He cuts up bedsheets in his room and ties it around his chest so tight that his lungs sound raspy for hours afterward. 

But in the mirror, with that snake-sheet constricting his chest, the kid looks so happy in his pirate costume.

He feels slightly more alive when he tries on a binder for the first time.

He feels so much better that it's scary.

Because that isn't an option.

That isn't an option.

Not for Wonderkid.

Wonderkid moves to New York.

Public school is different than The C.C (Conservative Christian) Homeschool Co-op he was born into.

Aspen tries being Wondergirl for a while, wants to be with be a guy.

Lonely.

Body hurts.

Brain hurts.

Don't really feel anything.

But that's okay, all I need is God. The Lord is my strength and my shield. 

If I'm feeling pain then I must be doing something wrong, I must deserve the consequences. I am sinning by wanting to be a boy and being ungrateful for my gender. I am sixteen years old.

Some part of me trusts that I need to hold on a little longer.

I am always a boy when I dream. I am happiest when I am asleep. I think I have a purpose. I think I need to stay alive a little longer for him. I like the name Thomas.

I'm seventeen. Somewhere in my mind, I say "I can't be a girl forever. This hurts too much."

Another voice says 

"You can't die yet."

Life is supposed to be good, you're just not seeing it right… you need to trust in the Lord.  You have control over your life right? Everything you do has consequences. 

Everything is your fault. 

Dear God- help me lose weight, become more boxy, dear God help me to find a guy that I will actually desire to be with, make my chest smaller, make me stop, dear God Dear God Oh my God-

I cry and cry and cry until I never cry.

I'm still Wonderkid at school. Talented- I've evolved from Pretty to Beautiful now.I'm told to be thankful for my body by my Mother whenever I mention anything. I know I should be thankful. But I'm so ungrateful to God.

I know I’m swine compared to him. To His majesty and grace.

Who am I to question Him and His perfect plan? "For I know the plans I have for you-" I choke out on my bathroom floor, "Plans not to harm you, but to give you a hope and a future." I peel my shaking hands away from my face.

I was never good at memorizing Bible verses, but I always remembered the gist of them pretty well. We were graded on them at Churchome.

I discover that alcohol makes me not care about my body anymore. I drink and I stop caring about the way I have to be when I'm around people. I drink and I stop caring about the future or being trapped in this body or what happens next. I don’t even get hungover.

It's such a relief. A godsend. For a few hours every weekend, I genuinely don't care about being a girl. I can just dance and there are lights and music and everyone’s happy and young-

I really love dancing.

Soy milk increases estrogen so I start avoiding that like the plague- not because I'm… you know, like that or anything. I just don't like the way the female chest looks aesthetically/feels/is/exists/sits/lays/

I can't escape my body I can't escape my body scratches on my skin blame it on eczema-

A quiet stage.

Spotlight.

I’m eighteen. Red curtains lift around me and several cellos start singing.

I am stunning, I am so goddamn beautiful and I and everyone else in the auditorium knows it. 

My technique is clean because I give 120% in every class. At my ballet academy, I'm most teachers' favorite. I love that we aren't allowed to talk in class. I love the way ballet makes my body hurt.

I'm flexible but not as strong as the other dancers- a little heavier too* (*see Not Anorexic) and I haven't had as many years of training under my belt.

But God can I act- I dance with emotion, I dance and the world is superimposed with places I've only been to in movies. 

I'm told that I dance like I've been alive for a really long time. Too long.

I’ve been alive too long like this.

I'm doing semi-clean pirouettes onstage- but in reality, I'm a smoke signal on top of The Great Wall of China- alerting of Hun attacks by burning tall and bright. My superimposed movie. I dance in the dark night wind and horse hooves of the calvary clop on top of smooth stone.

I do a grand jeté and the smoke signal sparks out orange fireflies.

I know the audience is seeing Pretty and the way her blood-red “Arabian” costume sparkles in the light- but they don't know just how beautiful my imagination is making the scenery right now.

It's okay. I know.

I get offstage and sweat is in my eyes, I'm panting, and for some reason the physical exhaustion from the sport makes me feel like a boy. Life is good and there is air in my lungs for once and the first thing that my extended family says when I greet them at the stage door is,

"You're growing into such a beautiful young woman."

I am so scared of being buried in someone else’s grave.

I tell them “thank you” and I hold on.

[giuliadrawsstuff]

You are loved.

Reference here

[daloy-politsey]

[intersexcat-tboy]

CW;; bottom surgery talk and fears, intersex struggles vent

Bottom surgery is already daunting for anyone. Surgery cost is a significant concern, with the simplest form being just as expensive as my top surgery.

As an intersex individual, the journey towards bottom surgery is riddled with complexities and uncertainties. Many insurance companies will refuse to cover GAC, often citing how it's not the "proper care" for us, or saying they paid years ago when we were mutilated, leaving us to shoulder the financial burden alone. To compound the issue, many surgeons will outright refuse to operate on intersex bodies. It leaves me between a rock and a hard place

Even if I do manage to scrounge up the tens of thousands of dollars for the surgery that fits me best, I'm confronted with the reality that most surgeons are not accustomed to operating on bodies that look like mine. It's like asking a micro model maker to make a miniature model instead. While the basic principles may be similar, the nuances of working on a larger scale can pose significant challenges. As an artist, I'm familiar with the challenge of adjusting to different scales and proportions. I fear surgeons may struggle to adapt their techniques to accommodate the intricacies of my anatomy, possibly increasing the risk of complications during and after surgery.

That's if they're even willing to work with me. I know many surgeons who won't. Knowing how far away bottom surgery is for me, if I can even access it, rips my lungs out. It's like watching all my friends stroll through the process with such ease, while I'm stuck in a perpetual cycle of trying to find a surgeon who will even consider operating on me. Even with a willing surgeon, I'd face the additional challenge of securing multiple documents to validate my mental health, bottom surgery oftentimes requiring more paperwork, most especially for insurances, despite the fact I will most likely be paying OOP.

I think to myself, it's going to be years before the technique is more available. It's going to be years before I have the money. Is it worth it when I'm 30? To put my body through such trauma? To then relearn my anatomy? Will it be too late?