Penny's Story

A cute little drummer living her dream.

Living the Deceptive Life

“She deceived him.”

So was the reaction of one of my friends to the story from Fark that I blogged about the other day. And I kind of freaked when she said that. It is very unusual for me to stop a conversation in the middle and say, “We shouldn’t talk about this.” That’s just what I did, though. I could not continue with that line of conversation without becoming completely irrational.

I guess my problem could be as much with the specific word as it is with the concept that this person was trying to communicate; that a tranny that doesn’t identify her genital status verbally before any one gets to see said genitals is not being completely forthcoming.

I worry that it is the prevailing wisdom. Worse, I worry that the reason it is seen as deceptive is because, as much as people “get it,” on some fundamental level there is the sneaking suspicion that I’m just a man that decided to be a woman and no amount of living as a woman, or hormones, or surgery will ever make me anything but a deluded man.

meh

I am becoming the humorless tranny. I get offended and hurt and pissed and wounded and grumpy far too easily. Another friend yesterday asked me if something had offended me in such a way that I inferred that she was suggesting that I become offended with great regularity. I’ve been accused of making people walk on eggshells more than once.

I don’t try to be so high-maintenance, I just get frustarted that so often I feel like I have to defend my identity even to people that I feel should be safer than they turn out to be.

Maybe I am just hyper-sensitive. Maybe everyone does get it. Maybe I should just chill.

But then, right when I’m feeling especially vulnerable, a friend says that the trans woman that got stabbed had deceived her attacker. I guess the word “deceived” really pushes a hot-button for me. It pushes me right back into the dilemma that I love so much: either brand a scarlett T on my forehead or I will be accused of deceiving people. Am I deceiving people when I use the ladies room? Am I deceiving people when they address me with female pronouns? Am I deceiving a suitor that takes me out to dinner? Am I deceiving someone if I make-out with them without disclosing the particulars of my panties? Am I deceiving someone if we engage in heavy-petting without first having a heart-to-heart about what my genitals look like? (and I guess the [to me implied] question: Am I deceiving myself by thinking I’m a woman). [my answer, btw, is an emphatic “no”]

I suppose I can only see the word “deception” being appropriate is if the person in question isn’t really a woman; she’s deceiving someone into thinking she’s a woman, but she isn’t really.

People get involved with other people all the time and don’t disclose important details (marital status; STD status; having kids; what religion they are; medical history; etc…). Those people are rarely stabbed for their lack of disclosure. Being transgendered seems to be a special case. I love being special.

*sigh*

I’m sure the stuff that’s gone down with my ex lately hasn’t helped. Being over my “practice-crush” phase isn’t helping. The article on Fark really didn’t help.

Feeling like I’ll always have to carry a bull-horn announcing the fact that I’m a tranny (even post-surgery) to ward-off claims of “deception” just makes me feel so tired.

Having a discussion with a close male friend who I feel would have had a similar reaction as the stabber in the Fark article (I don’t think he would have stabbed her, but he may have become violent {you know, like a slap or something – no big deal, right?}, and I totally believe would have felt deceived and embarressed) makes me feel hopeless.

Not having had a single date since my ex left makes me feel completely undesirable. And I’m completely undesirable equally with people who know and people who don’t know. I’m equal-opportunity hideous.

It’s funny, because a lot of the time I feel generally “happy,” but I’m also so damn tired and worn-out by life.

I’m just lonely.

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