theweightofbeingtrans

[theweightofbeingtrans]

As everything dies

image source: Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

And so they decided to return to the bed.

While the world prayed, went crazy, fought to no avail against a fate they deserved, they decided to love each other once more, to live that last moments of life together melting into a single body. They both desired that contact one last time, that exchange of looks and breaths, those sensations they would have never felt again and that accompanied them in their time together. She desired once more to have his body wrapped around hers, she yearned that moans, the heavy breaths, those twitches he would have given her once she started moving with more boldness and with faster pace.

He welcomed her inside of him with the usual naturalness as two perfectly fitting pieces. Like in an hypnotic dance he would have waited for every movement she made and welcomed her dominant words, showing his sweet surrender. She unexpectedly found herself guiding all their encounters, all their touches. Beyond her own imagination, despite every social norm, she had stubbornly filled that position she had never searched for, nor wanted, but that she still kept, in spite of everything else, despite herself. Partly because of pride, against whoever that thought these actions should be attributed to the opposite gender, but mostly for love, she made hers that dominating spirit. She knew that seeing her being dominant was the only thing he wanted, that he could feel. Since the beginning he did nothing but being himself, against that various parts of “himself” that society wanted to assign him. Seeing her body, the one he always marveled at despite all the defects that she often talked about, once again dominant and dominatrix, made all these moments eternal, extemporaneous from everything else. As if those desperate screams and prayers she heard outside of her house were just the audio of a movie they stopped watching, distracted by the smell of desire of each other’s bodies. She had learned to recognize clearly the smell of his desire, of his need. She just needed to touch with a hand his warm and welcoming abdomen, and she would have immediately smelled in the air that scent which would have aroused and intoxicated her, like freshly processed must. She had managed to shyly confess this ability before the end of their first year together, in one of their car rides, but she had always been skeptical about his having taken her seriously. Maybe today, as everythind dies, he too would have felt returning to life inside of his senses that almost primeval instinct. He would have understood that moments in which, as she breathed deeply the air around them, she fondly exclaimed that she smelt his hormones that filled her nostrils. He would have understood and harvest as much of it as possible.

And as everything died.

In a world that didn’t understand that nothing is eternal, nor fated, especially when it comes to “desiderium animae et corporis”, and that had tried to force inside their minds a setting that they naturally and instinctively ignored, once again challenging with false obliviousness that mutable and malleable immutability.

Once again and maybe for the last time they found each other joined in a single warm body.

And as everything died they loved each other once more. In a blinding flash that they both ignored as they were already blinded by the light of each other’s body, laying in imperfect imperfection. A little “afterword”

This morning I woke up with this picture in my head and decided to flow the “paper” with it. In retrospect it somehow reminded me of the movie by Lorene Scafaria, “Seeking a friend for the end of the world”, starring as main characters Steve Carelle e Keira Knightley, thought the ending and the story as a whole are pretty different. I only had a picture and some sensations that on their own managed to fill a whole Microsoft word page (if only I were so inspired all the time). A few moments, two people hugging after lovemaking as a blinding light fills their room from the window, but despite this their gaze doesn’t leave the body of the other. The rest was written with extreme ease. I hope you like it.

[theweightofbeingtrans]

[theweightofbeingtrans]

May the 10 of Pentacles bless your account with more money than you can spend. 💵✨

[theweightofbeingtrans]

im here for these two pika boyfriends

[theweightofbeingtrans]

I got some trans toads and slugs ready!

http://spirellity.com/20-plushies

[theweightofbeingtrans]

a salandit transboy and his precious, precious Everstone

a new friend!! 

[theweightofbeingtrans]

Happy 2020 Trans Day of Visibility

As most pride-related events have been cancelled around the world due to the current pandemic I thought it’d be a cool idea to start a thread of trans people in STEM to show that we are here and we do exist!

I’ll start - Hi I’m Faelan, soon-to-be a 24-year old cognitive bee scientist from Sydney, Australia! 

I just recently finished my Masters degree looking into presenting a conditional learning task to honey bees and hope to one day get into a PhD program to continue studying neruoethology in bees. I am also an out and proud gay and transgender man(-ish) and am very vocal in promoting transgender and gay visibility within science having worked closely with 500 Queer Scientists.

[theweightofbeingtrans]

hey it´s wild i have to point this out because i´m very openly nonbinary and make trans plushies that have “fuck terfs” in their product description but i guess it´s time to take out some trash

if you don´t think trans woman are woman

if you think trans woman need to express feminine

if your reaction to trans man is “uwu so cute and soft”

you call trans men “confused lesbians”

if you think you need to suffer and hate your body to be trans

or need to have operations and hormon replacement therapy to be trans

in general reduce people to their genitals

think it´s okay to misgender people if you don´t like them

call people “trans trenders”

or think that nonbinary genders aren´t real.

act like nonbinary people are just “a subgroup of woman”

don´t support nonbinary people having the right to transition

GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG. MY PLUSHIES ARE NOT FOR YOU.

-friendly greetings. the queer nonbinary person making them

[theweightofbeingtrans]

An important reminder for today, and every day. ❤️

[theweightofbeingtrans]

[theweightofbeingtrans]

Si ricomincia su tumblr

Salve a tutt* Eccomi nuovamente qui dopo un lungo periodo di abbandono in cui ho ignorato totalmente questa piattaforma, per un nuovo tentativo, ma stavolta tutto in Italiano.   Per chi non mi conosce( il che è molto probabile) il mio nome è Serena,sono una ragazza Trans e da circa un anno gestisco un blog su wordpress. Circa un anno fa, il mio ragazzo mi suggeri di aprire una pagina parallela al blog originale, ma in inglese e su questa  piattaforma,. Suggerimento che ho accettato un po come sfida personale, un po per cercare di allargare la diffusione dei miei piccoli scritti. Essendo gli articoli in lingua anglofona effettivamente le possibilità che possano esser letti da più persone è ovvia. Da qui però sorgono due problemi, il dover disturbare continuamente il mio fidanzato per tradurre i vari articoli( goggle translate non è cosi affidabile), trovare una terminologia ugualmente efficace per riuscire a trasmettere dei concetti o delle sensazioni che in italiano risultavano più efficaci.   Eccomi quindi nuovamente qui a cercar di far fortuna, ma in lingua italiana . Ovviamente gli articoli che pubblicherò qui saranno anche presenti su wordpress sicché fate vobis. Il blog si chiama l’insostenibile pesantezza dell’essere, se vi va di passare ne sarei felice. Un saluto e un abbraccio per ora  A presto Serena Barbato

[theweightofbeingtrans]

As you can tell, this is not a completed work (as it probably never will be completed!) but I wanted to upload the record of my transition I’ve been keeping because, honestly, it’s formatted for others to read and no one besides me has read it yet lmfao)

[theweightofbeingtrans]

The unbearable weight of rape

Hello everyone, just writing an introduction before starting the true article.

Despite the fact that I already have three articles that, once edited a little could be published I decided to start writing again after I read an article that moved and shocked me deeply. Let’s be real, I am not getting my head down out the clouds only now. Unfortunately I’m aware of the many problems of a life as an imprisoned when also being a person in transition, especially if the person is an MtF (Porpora talked very often of her experiences inside the prisons). But this morning while reading that article I have been overwhelmed by a strong anxiety and by a thousand questions and sensations swarmed inside my mind.

Here are the excerpts that moved and shocked me the most:

“Whitout giving too much importance to her transition, the Illinois’ DOC agents sent the woman to a male’s prison. She too defined herself as a sex slave, as she was raped both from the prison agents and the other inmates” (1)

“Despite her initial complaints, after the sentence she has been moved immediately to a male’s prison. There she has been raped and humiliated by the agents. In a report sent to the court, she told that one of them pulled down her trousers and asked what genitals she had, while in other occasions she has been forced to intercourses and to have telephone sex. Eventually, she has been raped and beaten by the other inmates too, protected by the complicit silence of the prison guards that didn’t intervene.” (1)

In the sweet moment between sleep and wakefulness, as I read that article I’ve been overwhelmed by feelings of fear, mixed to shame and nausea. For a few minutes I couldn’t help but to imagine the impotence, the dread and desperation that woman has experienced. Feeling your own body and soul violated, humiliated and at the mercy of the bystanders not only during the violence, but mainly after it. because it’s in that time when you’re alone with yourself that the mind starts to rage. Caressing your own skin and freezing, as you feel all the impotence of not having been able to defend yourself, with a body and a soul now tarnished and scarred for life. Caressing the wounds still open, bleeding, haunted by the voices of your own persecutors. In a mixture of physical and spiritual pain, an ache that goes beyond the here and now but that breaks the wall of your deepest subconscious. Closing your eyes and finding yourself there, living again and again that moments, in the vain hope that all of this won’t happen again, and in the case that it did, to have the strength to detach from that body you can’t protect, “cowardly” leaving it to your persecutors, to heal it’s wounds later and trying to save your mind from slipping into insanity. And paradoxically to all of this one has to add even the feeling of guilt of not having been strong enough to escape from what happened even if, analyzing it rationally (something that’s obviously quite improbable) it would have been impossible.

A body to which (as a trans person) I give the value of a sacred temple, subject to constant restoration and consecration. A body that I too am experiencing and rebuilding on my own, with many difficulties, in a symbiosis that is hardly recreating itself,  and that in such a circumstance could be damaged forever.

A picture formed inside my mind, as if trying to summarize that feeling of dread and isolation. If I had the ability to recreate it I would have already done so, but in lack of it I will try to show the image to you by describing it.

I imagined that woman, like many other women, both cis and trans, victim of this mindless violence, as a cell. A cell containing inside of it a woman curled up in a fetal position. A healthy cell slowly poisoned by an evil that a piece at the time deteriorates if until it dies, or in the “best of cases”, until it leaves a permanent mark. A slow and unstoppable evil …

As I already wrote luckily I only imagined the horrible sensations that woman had to experience, as I have never been a rape victim, but even just imagining it, the feeling of discouragement and RAGE are hard to get rid of. All the punishments of the world, the refresher training, the “it won’t happen again” can’t erase that experience, neither return to that woman (nor to all the other rape victims) her serenity, it’s a trauma that they will carry with them always, forever.

I keep touching my face with the hands and I can’t find a logic and productive answer … an answer that’s satisfying, and the “it didn’t happen to me” mustn’t be enough, neither the rage of vengeance must blind our minds.

Then I ask both me and all of you … what are the right steps to follow? What’s the path to travel and the answers to which one can cling onto?

And in this uncertainty, in this confusion of questions and sensations (nausea and bewilderment will accompany me throughout all the day), I keep touching my face in a gesture almost unintentional, probably in an attempt to get rid of the sensations that gave birth to the rabid will to write this post, aware of the fact that hundreds of thousands of women all around the world in this moment, are living on their own skin this horrible experience, trying in vain, maybe by touching their own face in an unintentional gesture, to bravely abandon their own bodies, flying away with their thought, trying to defend that temple already desecrated.

One, ten, a hundred thousand temples wrathfully on fire, devoid of any light or hope …

Temples that will have to be rebuilt once again, through many hardships, or permanently abandoned to the mercy of the world …

Sources:

(1). https://www.gay.it/attualita/news/donna-trans-carcere-maschile-illinois-abusi?fbclid=IwAR2NDj3QrFu_7drWyFa4VzBcSddOMS7_41yQ0Y5bvjsHFq5AVLfAcIXRkdk

[theweightofbeingtrans]

The weight of being trans part 2: words are important

Who talks badly thinks badly and lives badly. It is necessary to find the right words. Words are important.

Nanni Moretti (from the 1989 movie “Red wood pigeon”)

Words are important (said Nanni Moretti in the movie “Red wood pigeon”)

They can be turned into a deadly weapon, build insurmountable walls, carve very deep scars, forge chains which are difficult to free themselves from.

Or turn into indestructible shields, an armor with which one can defend themselves every single day. For the people transitioning, the use of words almost becomes a “sacred” ritual. A tool to fight against a constant discrimination. Words become vital lymph. They are an instrument for battles. They are our second skin. The first one is formed by our fantasy, our hopes, fears and uncertainties. However, both of them can easily be carved and tore apart from that same words, if pronounced without judgment, even if they were said in good faith. Unfortunately in Italy it’s common practice the use of a vocabulary that’s resounding and lacking of any kind of respect towards others, especially when talking about trans people.

The journal “Corriere della sera” defines trans women as “fake females” on an article in which the transphobia is as rare as it is obvious:

“It had already occurred that trans men invaded the little lake in Hampstead park, traditionally reserved only to female bathers.” “The purpose is to make the public aware of these misogynistic politics that allow men (remember, they’re talking about MTF women in this article) to seize spaces, services and positions that belong to women.(1)

And the various articles about the Marazzo case, in which the trans woman Brenda Mendes Paes was killed, and that the various national journals raged on against, showing their most transphobic behaviours.

Just to quote some of the articles:

“Killed Brenda, the trans man that met with Marazzo.” “Why the death of Brenda, the Brazilian transexual man with whom the same Marazzo admitted to have had two encounters, is still a mystery.”

Skytg24 – November 20th 2009

Obviously the article is plentiful of moments in which they refer to the trans woman that has been killed using male pronouns. (2)

The highest peak of transphobia has been reached in the article written by the journal “Corriere di Roma” on November 22nd 2009:

“New inspection of the house belonging to the trans man involved in the Marazzo case; the autopsy confirms: the trans man Brenda has died because of carbon monoxide asphyxiation caused by inhaling the smoke produced by the fire erupted inside his basement. On his body there weren’t signs of wounds.” (3)

The article constantly acts cruelly towards the poor woman using only male pronouns when talking about her.

“The autopsy of Brenda’s corpse, the trans man involved in the incident related to the video-blackmailing to the former president of Lazio Piero Marazzo” (3)

“The CT scan also highlights that on the body of the trans man (whose true name was Wendell Mendes Paes, born in Brazil on November 28 1997) there are no signs of injury” (3)

Words that all of a sudden erase an entire life with the simple choice of a pronoun. Even in this instance (like on many others), were used extremely offensive words, such as transvestite or “viado”, Portuguese word which translates in “deviant”. Words that once read hurt like 100 stabs to the heart. I didn’t know this woman, that judging by the pictures seemed as fragile as she was scared. Even now, when looking at that photos, stolen from that looter reporters, the ones that have belittled the victim even after her own death, I feel overwhelmed by sadness and I wonder, what dreams and thoughts did she have? what’s her story?

And let’s not talk about Arcilesbica Nazionale that, launching a season that smelt like transphobia names one of its articles this way:

“I am a woman. You are a Trans woman. And this difference matters.”

Article that has been removed a few hours later because of the ferocious disapproval and the estrangement that many branches did from Arcilesbica. In short, the article attacked with vehemence trans women: “they’re not women, because they are not biologically so. Because many of them still have a penis. And because no trans woman has ever “experienced” what it means to have a period.”.

It would be sufficient to stop and reason about those words, unless the purpose isn’t the one to sell a few more copies, ignoring the respect towards other people’s life.

Because words, as I said are important … and in Italy very often there is an use and abuse of sensationalist terminology that crushes and sullies, even after their death, people that have already paid dearly, for having tried to be happy, even just for a moment.

Sources:

(1). https://www.corriere.it/esteri/18_marzo_19/sono-uomo-solo-oggi-londra-scontro-legge-autodefinirsi-d5ae0a54-2bc1-11e8-9539-b2aedf27df10.shtml?refresh_ce-cp

(2). https://tg24.sky.it/cronaca/2009/11/20/caso_marrazzo_trans_brenda_morta.html

(3). https://roma.corriere.it/roma/notizie/cronaca/09_novembre_20/brenda_morta_carbonizzata-1602036393107.shtml

[theweightofbeingtrans]

@linkfan1998 ha risposto al tuo post:

The weight of being trans part 1: discriminations...

Why did you have to show ur ID?

Well, here in Italy you need to show the ID in various circumstances. In the workplace, right after the job interview it’s necessary to show it in order to create the hypothetical employment contract. When it comes to trans people, this leads very often to discrimination, especially when the biographical data have not been changed yet, since it is a forced coming out that people are usually wary of (in Italy the stereotype that associates trans women with prostitution and drugs is very strong and common). There are many other circumstances in which we have to face this forced coming out. For example in the post offices and banks, where very often happens that once you show the (not updated) ID in order to carry out the routine procedures (such as withdrawing money from your own account, paying bills etc.) the individual is forced to reveal personal informations about their transition to demonstrate to the employee that they’re the same person shown on the ID and finally complete these simple tasks. Or in the hospitals and when talking with the staff that works in it, that’s not always up to date and respectful towards the patient’s personal privacy. All of this obviously happens in that time when the ID still can’t be updated, but the person is already on HRT (here it’s still not allowed to change the gender on the ID for people that do not need the therapy), therefore neither the gender nor the photo represent the person they belong to anymore, causing various conflicts everyday (especially when the person already has a very good passing before they start taking hormones).

Also, the procedure to update trans people’s ID is long and expensive and it can take up to 2 years to finish. During this time they’re repeatedly forced to face uncomfortable situations caused by documents that do not represent them.

[theweightofbeingtrans]

sort of redraw of my first pride dinosaur entry from last year, trans shantungosaurus !!! @queer-dinosaurs + @a-dinosaur-a-day expect more where this came from 

[theweightofbeingtrans]

💫Trans + Night Sky Aesthetic💫

~Requested by @stargazer-extrordinaire~