Well, kind of. I went back to… *New Jersey* to sing at a conservative synagogue.

There were people who knew me, but did not know me. They didn’t recognize me. Some at first but then got clarity. Some didn’t recognize me ever. Some, I’m sure, would’ve been horrified if they knew.

From this experience, I got a bit of clarity about my desires and values and priorities.

Being seen as a man? Check. Not everyone will always get it. But enough people will and do.

Being heard and appreciated in the voice I have today? You bet. My old conductor even joked that I’m singing tenor now.

Being seen as ME and embraced and recognized? Not quite.

Recognition is not only being known. But being acknowledged and accepted.

I don’t want an award nearly as much as I want to be understood and loved as I am but I know that like many other gays with complex trauma I recognize that we conflate accomplishment with love.

I don’t want to erase the pieces of me that are Jewish. That are musical. They live in me and always will.

The truth is. I’m not a separate person than that kid. I’m not even a different name. Still Sandy. But I’ve managed to change a lot and it dawns on me how much when I can look in the eyes of people who have either loved or hated me over the years and not even register that it’s me.

One of them even was a teacher who was part of an effort to get me into conversion therapy. I wish her no harm. But I also don’t want to be in a space with her again if I can help it.

I’m still reconciling pieces of my past with my present and future and hoping I’ll get a life where I am able to be my whole self. Unafraid of other people’s bullshit.

Happy pride. Time to go change from shul clothes into a slutty little outfit.

AM I ACTUALLY CRYING OVER A WOMAN I WENT ON THREE DATES WITH ALMOST TWO YEARS AGO?

Or am I crying that I feel like everyone hates me, and I don’t understand what to do, and I use that person and our interactions as evidence?

Mocking this song momentarily:

Except that she didn’t even block me. She actually still follows me. She actually acknowledged at the time that she’ll still follow me and see me IRL. She just doesn’t want to hang out anymore. She didn’t say why or really explain anything. I can guess or assume, and I wasn’t in love, nor did my heart break. I hated feeling rejected more than anything.

And that is OK for her not to wax poetic. It’s a ME problem now. And she’s not the only one who has quietly quit our interactions or soft-blocked me, and it just kind of sits poorly with me relative to actually confronting things head-on or at least a SOLID BLOCK. In fact, there are people who were WAY bigger parts of my life who quietly quit our relationship, and it makes me sad. even if the block hurts. It’s very CLEAR.

I could block THEM, I suppose, but I’ll still see them.

And I still see people I’ve blocked, or who have blocked me. Or people I don’t like or who don’t like me.

This is human. But I think it’s important because it comes up a lot in trans and queer spaces where seeing each other is inevitable. And I think we don’t know how to exist together IRL anymore.

I experience rejection really strongly and kind of spiral. I take it as a sign that I don’t belong. I don’t think I’m even capable of relationships. I’m pretty sure no one will ever want me around. (I hope I’m wrong).

I’m really hurting about that. And that’s a normal thing to be hurt by. But I hope it’s not true.

And I hope that someday I stop being so fucking miserable.

And I’ve spoken a lot about gay/qieer spaces. But how about real trans spaces?

Well, some of them still exist, but

• I’m on hiatus from Transferno for obvious reasons, and I worry it’s gonna be too crowded, and I’ll return to rejection when I’m ready to come back. Also, we all need to find connections beyond a sex maze in a Brooklyn basement.

• Speaking of Brooklyn, I’m just not the right sort of trans person in IRL OR online spaces sometimes (note: I say this slightly tongue in cheek, be trans however the fuck you want if no one is getting hurt, some people just might not think you’re cool, and I’m not cool or hot to some)

• The support I need, including a group of fellow trans men who’ve had lower surgery, and things like the Philly Trans Health Conference, are being discontinued entirely.

• Trans theater is… I can’t even. I feel alone even in environments I started, and it’s even worse with the cliques and rifts in the other places.

Even my fellow trans people, for the most part, don’t know about meta, and again, my therapist would argue that it’s not necessarily my job to teach everyone, but it’s not entirely their fault for not knowing. It’s just isolating as shit.

I am grateful for the cis and trans people who have shown me love and support at this time (mostly women, quelle surprise).

But as I prepare to return to larger spaces and have a semi-celibate Pride Month… I need to find more comfort in spaces. Or new spaces. Or else use this time to hibernate and figure my shit out like the little cub I am. It requires faith and trust that I’ll wake back up, but I’ll try.

She claimed that trans men didn’t transition in the 20th century.

This is (fake) news to me. This is news to Laurence Michael Dillon… fun fact about him, he was the first recorded trans man in the world to get phalloplasty in 1946, and then, a few years later, HE performed the first recorded orchiectomy on a trans woman in the UK.

That is some cool T4T SHIT. Not only have trans men been transitioning OURSELVES, WE’VE BEEN HELPING THE DOLLS TOO, as we should.

That is one story of many, but. I’m used to cis straight people erasing me, I’m used to cis gay people erasing me, but I’m not in the mood for trans people to abandon each other.

Trans women are facing violence at the highest rates in our community. Trans men are also experiencing a rise in violence, as well, and going missing and being murdered, and SAed, and being forced to detransition, etc.

I WANT TO FOCUS ON LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

AND I KNOW OTHERS WANT ME TO AS WELL, MY GOODNESS. I AM SICK AS FUCK OF SOUNDING LIKE A BROKEN RECORD ABOUT TRANS MEN, OF TRYING TO TAKE UP SPACE.

I keep applying for shit knowing I’ll be rejected, I’m not really very good, and I’m kind of tired. My brain is struggling mid-recovery to see where I fit into the world once I come back, IF I fit.

I don’t want to quit, but it’s hard to keep going, you know. But I cannot forget that people came before me, and will be there long after me. and that I am responsible for far more than just myself.

I am so fucking tired. I am so sad. I’m sick of guessing the magic words that will make me and other people care that I’m alive.

As visits from friends and loved ones slow down, but I’m not all the way back to the real world, I’m stuck with my brain running in this weird place, trying to remember how joyful things make me. I’m still doing the gratitude practice.

I’m trying. I’m failing. I am so much more than one thing, but people don’t even like that thing, so why bother with the other stuff?

I feel deeply lost. and I know I should save this for a journal or a therapist or a journal and a therapist.

But maybe some of these words resonate.

Because that’s what’s happening for me, at least for one region.

I did not expect it to go this well. My surgeon is also shocked by how lively I already am. It hasn’t even been a full week, guys.

I’ll start with the cons and then move on to the pros.

-FOMO, Discomfort, A little misgendering, negligence, ignorance, A lot of medical and lack of agency stuff coming up, temporarily being a bit weak and gross…

Things that I’m kind of neutral about that I thought I would be more bothered by include size (listen, I was never a size queen for other people’s Ds, I shouldn’t be for myself) and needing help (I need to learn to be ok asking for things and receiving them).

BUT THE PROS. YOU GUYS. THE PROS.

What meta has done for my brain in a non sexual sense already is feel like a bit more independent and connected to my body.

And while it’s healing and in time out, what I’ve seen in the photos has me stunned. I have a really pretty, petite package. And it’s mine now.

Looking forward to getting through the honeymoon phase and being recovered enough that I don’t think twice and I take it for granted, the way that men who’ve had dicks their whole lives often do.

Everyone’s gender journey is different. For me, I believe that I was always destined to be this way. That I am an eccentric man by nature. I was confusing before I was even born.

This is a blue tedda. My sister has a pink one, and I was given a pink one when I was born. However, before I was born, there was a distinct belief that I would be male. SURPRISE. I SURE AM. Just a bit different. I am not intersex, to my knowledge. When I was born, they were like, oh, girl, and gave me the pink. But I was always a little odd. And so, when I was a kid, and I found this in my room, I cherished him and kept him close. I’ve still had him. (My most special bear is Pooh Bear, but he’s too big to join me at the hospital.) I like to think he’s a bit of a symbol for how, even if I was assigned one gender, the truth was hidden in plain sight.

This is bunny w/ a mustache. I have gifted many of them to friends over the years who are going through transitions, because I think he is a healthy combination of cute, fluffy, and masculine. (AS I ASPIRE TO BE, THANK YOU!) I bring him up, too, because he’s a symbol of a new way to express masculinity, much like how meta is a fairly trans-specific sort of surgery and a unique sort of masculinity, too.

I am not bringing up stuffed animals to infantilize myself or any other trans man. Maybe to evoke comfort, a sense of love and humanity, and the continuity of experience. Hell, that image of Marsha P. Johnson with a Snoopy puts her in an especially loving context.

The absence or presence of a penis, its size, how it got there, none of that is what makes me a man. I’ve already been one, and I won’t be more or less of one tomorrow than I am today. I might be a happier one, and I will grow from this experience (lol), but we are who we are. The gravitational pull towards being a man is not entirely unrelated to physical areas of dysphoria, but my goodness, it’s just me being me at the end of the day. The vibes were there. This is just a logical next step in a physical evolution I’ve been going through for a while. And frankly, the outer work of transitioning may be slowing for me after tomorrow/recovering from tomorrow (who knows, I told my mom this may or may not be the last one, and it might.) The inner work is lifelong for all of us, cis, trans, etc, and men have a lot of introspection to do.

To quote the iconic Lou Sullivan: “I am ready.”

Sending you love and support, will accept all of it in return. And here’s to life on the other side of this, too!

BONUS: bestie, Pooh Bear, is almost 26 ½ years young.

Alexander Technique and the things I fought against in grad school are sticking now, same with pelvic floor PT, and all the other therapy, I’m learning to open up, and be vulnerable, and I don’t know why yet. It’s very scary and hard to trust. It hurts less and more.

I don’t know about you, but the message “be yourself” has gotten more and more confusing in a time when being myself is very not in demand, and being a few different fonts of hot is. We owe it to ourselves to find our own truth.

Being authentic doesn’t require as much effort as begging for approval does, and people-pleasing rarely pleases people.

The musical Bare that I’m referencing in the title of this article with a lyric from the eponymous song is about the dangers of shame and secrecy around sex, particularly gay love, and I am proud of being gay, and I am proud of other gay people, and frankly, jealous of the ones who have love and the ones whose stories are told more frequently, who are told they are beautiful and worthy of that love. I have believed for far too long that in my life, I am not worthy of love. Not from a partner, not from friends or family. Not unless I willed and fought myself into a better person than I am. Not good enough yet, have to earn it.

It took me 5 years to share a life-changing diagnosis with a loved one (do the math based on context clues) because I was ashamed. I was scared. I hesitate to tell him anything, from my job stuff to my sex life, and that I’m having surgery… and even freaking diabetes. Out of fear that he will reinforce the meanest things in my head. I didn’t even say the word, but I spoke more openly about it today. I am ashamed to be fat and disabled, so I hide and apologize for it. I feel a lot freer than I have in a minute.

I am ashamed that I am trans… more accurately, I’m ashamed that I feel like a bad trans person for not fitting the boxes nor fighting them enough, and also that my body is illegible to others.

I am ashamed to be human. To have a body that lives and breathes, with flaws and wants and needs. My body being hungry or tired or horny or any state of need bothers the shit out of me… and yet those things are unifying.

I’m scared of what happens when people see me vulnerable. When people see me naked, or afraid, or not at my best… and frankly, I’ve never been my best yet, or I’m always doing the best I can with what I have.

You have to be willing to fuck up to grow; you have to be willing to accept that of others, too, which is really hard.

In the coming weeks, I’m gonna be so vulnerable. They’re literally doing surgery on me, and I will be healing in some very sensitive spots. I have to let go to get better.

Lastly, a plug for BROADWAY BARES. I am ashamed to be too disabled temporarily to work it this year, to be too anxious and fat and trans to be cast likely ever (not just Bares, probably in general)

But the thing I can do matters more. I can fundraise to help people live freer, safer, and with less shame.

https://donate.broadwaycares.org/fundraiser/7219993

More on its way… surgery soon!!

However, that would imply I didn’t dislike it before. I just can’t even stomach it now.

I would love to be able to work on art I actually believe in and enjoy with people I actually believe in a…

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Violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is normalized and spans a scale, scope, and spectrum beyond what people can see.

“Trans men are men” means that we are also required to do some inner and outer work on misogyny. That does not erase our trans experience, nor any violence we may have experienced prior to or since transitioning. Dismantling the patriarchy is a net benefit for all, but we must do better for women, specifically.

The ubiquity of sexual violence is such that ¼ of cis men, somewhere between ⅓-½ of trans men, ½ of cis AND trans women, and somewhere around there for nonbinary people as well, have been the victim/survivor of it.

Whereas cisgender men are not the sole perpetrators, but they are the primary ones.

We are men, too. It is our duty to disrupt rather than participate in or perpetuate this harmful culture.

When we, as trans men, are sometimes safe(r), it is because we are known to be men. When we are in harm’s way, it is almost always misdirected misogyny, if not homo/transphobia or some other ism. Whereas trans women are facing transphobia, misogyny, and transmisogyny, and then being accused of being dangerous or taking up too much space, when in fact, no community is free from bad actors, but on the whole, it is our sisters who are being harmed rather than doing harm.

While people misdirect attention at trans people or queer people, it is a shield for accountability. Wouldn’t it be better to instead confront the real problems head-on, in our community and beyond? The wrong people have felt shame.

I mentioned catcalling a little in my podcast episode with Aidan, offhand, but didn’t delve much into things like sexual violence, which I have experienced pre- and post-transition. You have no idea what I avoided saying in that episode about masculinity that I wish I had. The good and the bad… that is to say, I love being a man. I believe that masculinity can be good, but I have seen it at its best and its worst.

And it comes in so many forms. Something I also need men to recognize, gay men, straight men, cis men, trans men: ALL MEN to know going forward, is that we will not grow if all we do is avoid accountability.

WE MUST HOLD OURSELVES AND EACH OTHER ACCOUNTABLE IN OUR WORDS AND DEEDS.

WE MUST DO BETTER NOT TO AVOID CANCELLATION, BUT TO MAKE OUR WORLD SAFER.

Did I get your attention? I believe that there’s a bit of room for ambiguity in these areas.

Still unpacking so much in the coming days (probably forever womp womp).

(In the meantime, holy shit, this artwork.)

Stick with me, I’ve written about this in the past, but-

This chart is mostly pertinent in intersex diagnoses.

But trans people fall on this continuum, as well as outside of it. I’m not really here to explicitly detail what mine is going to look like or what it looks like currently… but I can tell you that it’s not 0 or VI. We are all just in variant meat suits.

What does it mean, though, when you get a new body part? A new set of experiences. A lot of firsts and lasts. This isn’t my first surgery. And I don’t know if it’ll be my last.

Which reminds me of the time I was someone’s first blowjob (with his new penis, that is.) To see someone experience that for the first time was really cool. To be able to give him that.

I will not call myself a virgin between the time I have surgery and the time I use my new equipment. (And I already have friends who are curious about seeing/ touching/ etc, queer men are unsurprisingly eager about new dicks lol.) But I will cherish each new experience, the ones that are expected and the ones that are unexpected, and even the ones that are annoying, like getting hit in the balls. I won’t know for sure yet, but I’m pretty sure that constructing my junk will hurt more than that.

One of the things I was scared about when choosing the more ambiguous configuration I’ve chosen and not, say, full-size phallo with UL vnectomy and the works, is that I will never be what cis men are, and I therefore will not be everyone’s cup of tea. But even if I did, I wouldn’t. There is no use conforming to a standard that doesn’t suit my genuine wants and needs, especially if it’s impossible for me to do so (at this time).

Not to mention… have you met a cis man who has never been insecure about something to do with his bits? NO. Scalding hot take: I will never have the perfect dick because the perfect dick DOES NOT EXIST. There is only the dick you have and the things you can do to have it be the best that it can be. But don’t put yourself or others at odds, and don’t put yourself or others down.

This is one way you can be sure I’m doing this for me, not for anyone else. Which is scary, and sounds a little selfish and lonely. I am scared that people will be disappointed by my body, but I can realize that even if they are, not everyone will be.

Also… It’s not like I’m universally legible now. Some of my past partners have told me that my body is too complicated to deal with, which is part of the long list of reasons I decenter my body in many encounters. Frankly, fuck that. It’s what I have to work with. Hedwig taught me that, and that show is practically as old as I am.

I will feel more loved if I learn to embrace my imperfect self and grow into it, leaning into vulnerability and confidence. I will feel more loved if I stick by people who accept the body that I feel right in than if I try to cater to chasers in how I look or what acts I do. I will feel more loved if I stop pursuing people who only want cisgender men. I simply can’t be that for them. But I can be myself, at every stage of my journey, and people can meet me where I’m at, and I can do the same for them.

The two biggest things that were flagged during the process of securing this surgery were: 1. I’m fat (we’ll see how that ultimately affects things, but I believe fat people deserve to be treated better by medicine without having to make themselves sicker to get smaller), and 2. I have a very questionable level of support in my life.

Not support as in financial or professional support. Or like my family being ok with me being trans (no one in my close world misgenders me on purpose). I’m privileged. But like. Friends/partners/loved ones who can be there consistently... less so. I’m seeing what the minimum I can get away with is, because I believe I have to. I already feel indebted to others, and I hate needing things… because, in many ways, I have too much, and in others, I don’t have enough.

I believe I am not worthy of having my needs met, including the need for love and support. And I believe it is weak to need things. And pointless to need things without giving a ton in return. I would love to change. But like any trans person will tell you, the inside takes even longer to adapt than the outside.

My hesitance to ask for support comes from the one-two punch of a grown man trying to be tough, and a wounded inner kid who’s seen some shit. It’s toxic masculinity and the cycle of shrinking.

I have very big abandonment issues. A lot of people, mostly men, have left me when I needed them most, including after a different procedure last year. And even when it’s been unintentional, the harm is kind of there anyway. As a storyteller, I tell myself many internal stories about my own worth. I think too much. I often reflect on how shitty I feel when I make a mistake. I also wonder whether any of them know or care about how I feel about their mistakes.

I am letting people in my life know I want them there, but I am afraid of needing anyone, because how can I fully trust anyone if I don’t trust myself and am unkind to myself? It is exhausting.

So I will keep managing expectations and do my best… but the most upsetting thing about all this for me is nothing medical. It’s about being patient with myself and relying on others.

Before my surgery rolls around in May (now 3 weeks sooner), I’ve got a few other topics to cover, and this one is particularly spicy.

Do I think more queer people are neurodivergent and don’t know it? Yes, I do. Do I think sex can function as sensory seeking behavior? I’m far from the first neurodivergent person to point that out. There’s a line in this show I worked on a reading for that hasn’t seen the light of day in a minute, but I think about it constantly. A young queer person sees a survey that says more gay men have sucked dick than kissed another man. And so I think it’s beyond neurodivergence. I think that hugs and kisses can really challenge some people because of how intimate they are… and some people are incredibly affectionate with some physical touch but not others.

So how does this relate to autism? Autism is a neurotype that often impacts sensory perception and social development, both of which greatly impact intimacy and interactions with others.

Access Intimacy, coined by Mia Mingus, refers to “that elusive, hard to describe feeling when someone else ‘gets’ your access needs.” It is depicted in Ryan Haddad’s theatrical work (love), and also in one of my earliest writings for the stage, in which I wrote about nonverbal consent and communication for sex… because access is for everyone. And sex should be accessible.

Back to a very nonsexual topic that correlates, though. HUGS.

Hugs are actually more intimate for me than sex. If I initiate a hug with you and it’s not like a pressured, socially expected thing for me to give you a hug in that moment, specifically, please know how special that is. Not that it’s sexual (it’s not), but it’s deeply intimate and comes from a place of endearment.

However, another way I might show you I love and trust you is by sharing when I’m too overwhelmed to do physical touch. Another way might be to unmask and be my weird self around you.

But I find the people who get me will pick up on that.

There was a misunderstanding about me throughout grad school that because I didn’t want to touch my teachers, I was traumatized (that’s part of it, but not all of it) or that I was mean (not entirely), but really, I was not acclimated at all, and the vulnerability touchy model did not fit my needs.

To function, many neurodivergent people also learn clear rules and boundaries, and “you and your teachers and classmates are supposed to touch each other” really does not compute at all because it’s a weird grey area. I also hated when they tried to get me to call them by their first names, because I found it too informal, and even disrespectful in some cases (in some cases, I had limited respect for the teachers in question, so that worked out ok (that’s where the partial meanness comes in).

There’s also a gendered aspect here. I am HYPERVIGILANT about not being CREEPY as a man, so I am wary of touch. When I was perceived as a woman, people always felt permission to touch me; however, wherever, whenever, and I hated it. “No” was never a respected option. Now, people still sometimes try to cross my boundaries, but I shut that shit down more confidently, and I certainly never want to make anyone feel how I’ve felt. But to many people, the neurotypicals in particular, a hug is just a greeting. Ruffling my hair is just a casual, friendly thing (a colleague did this to me once 4 years ago, and I still wonder when we’re gonna run off into the sunset together). Even flirting, kissing, sharing nudes, and sex are treated as casual by many. Sometimes it’s casual. Sometimes it can have a positive, negative, or mixed emotional impact.

I think about friends who have held my hand or rested their head on my shoulder (just a couple examples) more closely/seriously than people who have cum in me (I know, I know, I’m weird). But am I? It really comes down to actions, context, and how that combination makes us feel.

Have you ever considered how touch makes you feel?

Having a dick will not make me a man. I already am. But being a man is part of why I think I’ll feel better with one.

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Tomorrow, 3/31, is a really complicated day. Go read for even better context!

On the night of Trans Day of Visibility, a bunch of trans people and I will be seeing a bunch of other queer and trans people (and I assume there’s a heterosexual cisgender person somewhere) in Cats: The Jellicle Ball. We will be joyful AF.

What does it mean, though, to be visible in a world that is trying to destroy trans people?

It’s a mixed bag.

On the one hand, we can find each other and love each other the more we see each other! On the other hand, the haters can find us too.

Erasure, whether it’s bisexual erasure or nonbinary erasure or transmasculine erasure or lesbian erasure, comes up a lot, and it’s all frustrating and true. Still, at times, it has kept us safe to be less visible than gay men and trans women have been in particular (though I am also a gay guy! and I am called a fag very often these days!)

But I will choose to see the benefit too in our visibility when it means connecting with each other and the broader world. The vulnerability and visibility of other trans people, including trans men, has saved my life because I knew there was a way forward for me to live.

What does Trans Day of Visibility mean when people are aware of transness in theory but not in practice?

Trans Day of Remembrance (in November) is explicitly intended to honor those we have lost.

Trans Day of Visibility ought to be about committing to seeing our humanity and loving the trans people IN YOUR ORBIT. Remembering that we are more than an idea, we are your friends and neighbors.

If I could encourage other “Trans Days of ___,” here are a few:

Trans History Day (during LGBT history month)

Trans Pride/Action Day (during Pride in June)

Trans Women’s Day (also in March, for the Girls/Dolls/Ladies/Women)

Trans Futures Day (a commitment to thinking about trans futures)

Trans Day for Access and Education (where we help trans people learn and connect to resources)

and last but certainly NOT least Trans Day of Love <3

But ideally, all of those would be every day!

The timeline is currently dark, but learning from my trans ancestors and elders (and hell, the youth!), I am encouraged to keep going and fighting for all of us.

Today, Tomorrow, and beyond.

<3

Putting the Tea in LGBT.

Bottom stigma is real, and we all should continue investigating and unpacking it. AND. There is a weird myth of a top shortage that is NOT true.

Admittedly, we can’t even agree on what terms mean. Top/bottom/side/verse/etc. Some people use these terms to refer to acts, others to social roles, and those roles vary greatly. (Hello? Chappell Roan’s “The Giver”?)

But I digress, and I don’t want to be either too flippant or too serious about this. We need clear ways to express what we DO and DON’T want that leave prejudice out of the equation.

When people tell you what works for them, BELIEVE THEM and do NOT try to coerce them or bully them into thinking they must do this thing for you. And you don’t have to do anything you’re not into- whether you’re short or tall, trans or not, or present masculinely or femininely (the tall and or masculine bottoms understand my pain, and I love y’all too.)

I have a lot more I wish to say, but I’m trying to keep it brief. Oh. “because you have X body part and it’s there” is not a good enough reason to expect any sex act at all, much less a specific one.

Lastly, a benediction: May what’s right for you find you. And may what isn’t leave you be.

I’ve spent years grappling with the lender suffix, ussy. (Yes, I know that saying lender suffix is silly)

This viral statement plays in my brain more than I would like to …

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Perhaps you do too. Perhaps you’ve thought, “I don’t know a trans person, so it’s not a big deal if they’re in trouble.” Or “I don’t know that many.” Or “I’m in a blue state, so this doesn’t affect me or my trans friends.” Things will get worse before they get better, for all of us.

With that said, you should really care now. Not once it affects you harder (because it already does affect you in ways you cannot always see), but now.

I’ll say it til I’ve got no voice left, WE ARE HERE. WE ARE HUMAN, TOO. and I know that the “all lives matter” people were just saying that to invalidate Black people, but people and our lives DO have worth, and I’m tired of witnessing the dehumanization in our society, not just of trans people. Not just of groups I’m a part of. I’m sick of people being so desensitized to violence that they’ve run out of empathy and fucks to give.

Compassion is a renewable resource. The more you listen and learn, the more it grows, and it can be shared. Sure, we all can experience burnout and fatigue, but in the long run… in the ICON Andrè De Shields’ Tony Acceptance Speech, he said, “If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together.”

We can’t possibly hope to make it without each other.

In the show I’ve been writing, there are boyfriend twin characters. This phenomenon is very common for gay men and gay women, where partners look nearly indistinguishable from one another. Some people seek out their twin, but then again, some people fetishize the other and exclusively date one identity that is not theirs, like chasers. Extremes and absolutes can be rough. However, in the event that you meet someone, and they look like you, or they don’t look like you, and there’s a spark… I don’t know how bad that really is, as long as you don’t make it weird. That may be the guiding rule here: like who you like, don’t be an asshole.

I admittedly have “types” that often don’t look like me because I have a lot of self-hate (specifically used to reinforce stigma around being curvy, for example). I’ve been learning not to, though. … and I have lowkenuinely (I’m so proud I had cause to use this term) developed feelings for a trans man who looks, and is, a lot like me (he’s taller, a little curvier, and a little younger, but we def look very similar), that I met on Grindr and saw one very blurry face pic of before meeting only to learn that he and I were very alike.

I have no idea if he’ll read this. I have no idea if I’ll ever see him again, or if we’ll go our separate ways and meet other people. But it blew my mind to be accepted as I am, and to care about someone who looked like me after a lifetime of self hatred.

T4T is also very special because it is an embrace of a fellow trans person (whether platonic, sexual, or romantic) in a world that rejects us so frequently. So, I think there’s room for nuance. Homo means same. so I get where in homosexual environments some sameness comes up. Also, when liking or loving someone like me, a lot of my internalized isms and phobias have been confronted so hard and I’m like, why hate when I could love?

I have cried so many times about this boy (and once in front of him, the last time I saw him, because I have yet to fully articulate to him what he means to me and it’s scary and overwhelming). Because I know he and I feel complicated about each other, and that we’d face double the bullshit I do on my own if we were a couple, and yet when we’re together, we laugh, we nerd out, we process our emotions (most of them), we fuck, and we don’t concern ourselves with superficial external bullshit. Everyone deserves that. To be held when we are vulnerable. And be joyful and caring and warm. I’m not ashamed at all when I’m with him, and yet hardly anyone has heard about him, and the only person I’ve said his name to is my therapist… like, damn.

I might end up with someone else. He will likely end up with someone else. But he has given me so much already, by showing me what is possible. And sometimes, by being so similar, it gives us less to have to explain or justify or compensate for. Which can free us up to look deeper than that and be true and vulnerable. Also, even if people seem the same, we can find differences that help us grow, and even if people seem different, we can find common ground.

PS: If you’re him, and you’re reading this, thank you. I literally would always rather be kissing you and talking about absurd shit like Marry Fuck Kill with Sondheim characters.

So, by now, if you’re seeing this, I’m sure gender dysphoria is a term you’re familiar with.

And for me it has shown up in every area of my being, from head to toe, inside and out.

RSD means I take a lot of criticism super hard, and actual rejection and cruelty harder. I make it meaner than they ever could. We all do this to an extent, but if you have RSD, it’s outsized.

I hold onto a lot of the shit people say, and there’s a MEGAPHONE version of it for YEARS.

And also, why is RSD a Tboy topic? It’s not, exclusively. But many of us are neurodivergent. and deal with RSD.

but also, there are ways in which the two intersect for me, that I wanted to talk about.

RSD on its own can look like:

everyone hates me

I’m going nowhere in my career

I am unloved

I am worthless

I have to prove myself and work 10 times as hard

I should give up

I should avoid people

…to name a few.

RSD + Gender Dysphoria/internalized transphobia says those things and gives it something to blame:

“because I’m a trans man”

“because I’m not a good enough man”

“because I didn’t have a normal boyhood”

“because I don’t pass as cis”

“because I/my body lack ___”

“because I/my body have ___”

“because I’m not enough.”

together, they make a shitstorm of cognitive patterns and stories that are hard to break out of, but I am trying to.

Here are some things to treat both types of dysphoria that I have found useful:

-challenging myself to show up anyway.

-Therapy (including HRT and other medical help)

-esteemable acts raise self esteem.

-connecting, including with others who have the same stuff.

-distance “I’m having this thought, and it’s a thought.”

It’s a rough combo, and it’s survivable.

To quote a lyric by the late Michael Friedman that was inspired by Tony Kushner, “I have to say, being Jewish was invaluable preparation for being gay,” later saying in the song, “gays and jews sort of arrive knowing how to be unpopular and turn it into a source of power and not feel condemned because society condemns us and also: a belief that justice triumphs. pharaoh doesn’t win! pharaoh doesn’t win! in the long run the righteous are triumphant! even if the wicked seem to be winning at the moment… but a house so big has a room for you in it somewhere if you want…”

Agh. What a mind we lost, to AIDS, in the last DECADE.

I digress, but I really don’t there.

I saw a play last night about the fire and passion from AIDS activists and scientists that was met with a mix of support of hostility from the American public, Fauci/Kramer.

And I saw an eerie parallel there. There was a line about institutionalizing all HIV positive people, because it only affected a specific portion of the population, i.e. suggesting quarantining gay people.

Meanwhile, in New York CITY in 2026, we have a hospital that’s already caving to cease helping trans youth and limiting trans adult care, one impeded by a strike and ties to Epstein, and then much more bespoke options for surgical care that mostly only wealthy people/people with fancy insurance can access (I admit that’s me, and I admit that it’s nice). We also have a few good clinics for general medicine and HRT, but the insurance companies are pulling back on covering HRT for adults. If you said, hey I support trans adults, but the kids and the sports, blah, blah, blah, know that they gained a lot of ground and there were ways to handle those more sensitively, and now we are in for a lot more trouble.

That’s not even touching other states, cities, where they’re taking people’s IDs away, harassing and criminalizing bathroom use, threatening doctors…

This is far from the beginning of a backslide for trans people. We’re waist deep in the water. I do not know what it will take to say enough is enough and recognize our humanity. But I know that for every sensationalized story painting us as bad, there’s a lot being missed. I know trans people in pretty much every walk of life, and the only thing we all share is being trans.

Many trans people I know have left the United States already, others plan to. Some do not, either for lack of means or lack of interest, or a willingness to stay and fight. I think no one is 100% right or wrong there, including the issue that the rest of the world is also kind of unsafe right now.

I am daily adjusting what expectations I am able to have for life. That I can access medicine? That my friends can? How (and if) we are allowed to exist?

I’m praying that by the time my surgery rolls around, I can have it safely and just, heal.

I want society to have a chance to heal.