About me

Who am I? I am an introvert, a lover of books, a chef, a grad student, a classicist, a musician, a humanist, a computer nerd, a gamer, a friend, a spouse, a family member, and above all your fellow human being. I also happen to be a Mormon who identifies as transgender. While this blog might be primarily about those last two facts, I would hate for you, dear reader, to define me solely by those final attributes. And I would hate to define myself solely in terms of my gender. It would be rather easy to let my gender issues control my life, and frankly too often they do. So hopefully the content of this blog will reflect many of the diverse aspects of my personality, my likes, my interests, and who I am, not merely the fact that I identify as transgender.

I find myself in the unenviable, but all too common, position of being absolutely clueless and I will freely admit that I do not know how to cope with gender dysphoria. All too often, as I discuss the issue with others, I am given two distinct answers as solutions to my dilemma. On the one hand, I am told that transitioning gender (or publicly changing my gender presentation) is an effective way (and perhaps the only way) to stop the dysphoria (and frankly there is a lot of evidence supporting this effectiveness). On the other hand, I hear that I ought to do nothing. By suppressing the dysphoria and being a little stronger, I will save my family, my wife and my friends a great deal of heartache and confusion.

So what am I to do? In so many ways I would love to transition (even if just socially). On some days, when the pain of my gender dysphoria is overwhelming, transitioning seems like the only reasonable option. I have no idea how effective transition would be (both in reducing the gender dysphoria and allowing me to fit into society), or what affects such an action would have on my life (I don't think that can be truly understood by anyone until after they transition). Even with all the unknowns it is an enticing answer.

Yet as I think about transition I wonder about all the pain and anguish that I might cause to those around me by making such a decision. I have a wonderful wife and my relationship with her is the single greatest and most precious gift that I have. I think about how much pain and anguish this has already caused her and wonder how much more pain she can take. I question the morality of the situation. What right do I have to cause her pain even if my own pain lessens? I look at my family and friends and wonder what right I have to cause them pain? I've been told that watching someone transition is almost like watching the person you know and love die and watching a new person be born. I've watched how even the smallest disturbances of gendered norms make some of my family and friends deeply uncomfortable. How would it make them feel if I shattered those norms? How many relationships would I deeply damage?

I'm not a saint: it's not only the morality of the situation that concerns me. I'm afraid. I'm not the almost emotionally stalwart individual and, to throw a little Freud into the conversation, I'm extremely susceptible to the superego--societal pressures, fear of rejection from anyone (even random strangers on the street), and fear of conflict all make me conform to society on a regular basis. I like a carefully planned-out and stable life. And the final state of my life after transition is unknowable.

So I remain sitting on the fence. The emotional damage that I would inflict upon my family and friends by transitioning would be an unacceptable loss. The damage that I would inflict upon my wife would probably be even greater. But the emotional damage I inflict upon myself by doing nothing (and this emotional damage certainly affects my wife as well) is also unacceptable. So I find myself constantly searching for other alternatives. Often trying new things, and often watching them fail. But I'm trying to find an answer where everyone can be happy. I often feel like Don Quixote charging at windmills in a foolish impossible endeavor; a gradual madness that consumes my life. But surely attempting to find the path where I cause the least pain is a commendable task.

I would be remiss in introducing myself if I did not give my better half credit. I am fortunate that I am married to the most wonderful wife in the whole world. Now dear reader, you may contest this fact. And I will let you contest, and argue, and debate the issue until your face turns blue, but it will all be for naught. It is an incontestable truth that I am married to the most amazing individual on the planet. She has been there through the thick and thin of all of my troubles; helping me come out to myself, helping me understand what gender dysphoria was, helping me begin to come to grips with how I should live with gender dysphoria, and helping me come out to my closest friends and family. Much of the credit for who I am today goes to her.