Gender Reveal

I'm trans.

Every time I say it I feel the need to add an asterisk. That I'm not trans enough. That my experience and emotion don't line up with what I'd been told being transgender was all about. That since I didn't conform with what the media (both sympathetic and not) told me it meant to be trans I had to be something else.

I've had this side to me longer than I can remember. My grandmother remembers me putting on her clothes when I was still in diapers. When I was playing pretend in kindergarten I sometimes was Batman, sometimes Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island. Older people couldn't tell if I was a boy or a girl right up until the time puberty hit. 

By then society had drilled into me that being girlish wasn't acceptable. The church we moved to when I was nine was hyper conservative. The sort of speak-in-tongues slain-in-the-spirit evangelism that put me off organized religion for good. And the kids at school were ok with me playing with action figures, but not Barbie.

I knew it was wrong to feel that way. I knew it was wrong to slip into the clothes I “borrowed” from family members. I hid my wardrobe and admitted nothing.

A book I'd found told me there were three options for what I was. Drag queen, transsexual, or transvestite. It was written in the 60s; I'm leaving the terms as they were when I read them. I suppose for the time it was sympathetic, but it was still a very superficial look at something much more complicated. 

I didn't feel like a drag queen. I didn't feel the way the book said transsexuals felt. That left transvestite. So I called myself that. It wasn't until thirty years later I realized it was a slur. Ten more than that before I realized there was more shades of transgender than I'd been led to believe.

Most of the time I was fine. I duded up and went about my life without any problems. I was comfortable in my skin. 

Except when I wasn't. Except when I was Joan. When I'm Joan I am a woman. When I'm not I am a man. But none of that made sense given the definitions I had to work with. 

About four years ago I first heard about bigenderism. One of the definitions I found online defined what I was going through better than anything else I'd come across. I may find a better term later, but that's what I'm using for now.

For various reasons I'm not out in my daily life. I have shared Joan with my wife, some friends, and family. There were a few people in the size community I've come out to. They helped me overcome some of those asterisks I keep wanting to throw out. Last February I attended the virtual SizeCon as Joan. I've mentioned it on social media, but haven't made a formal announcement until now.

One of those social media mentions led to the above image. I'm mostly a tiny, but I've got a giant side too. I'd previously commissioned Mini Moe to draw me in an early (SFW) size fantasy. There was a horse farm we drove by every week when I was a kid. The open space and the hills that surrounded the farm made me imagine myself as a giant doing heroic giant things and protecting the horses.

I made the original commission while I was still in male mode before I (kinda sorta) came out. I'd described the scene with me in male terms. Moe saw my Twitter update and graciously offered to rework the commission to reflect my current gender identity. 

I think she did a damn great job.

At some point I'll need to get art of me as a tiny woman and me in giant male mode. Cause my size isn't linked to my gender. 

Thanks for your understanding. And the kind words I've received from those who've seen my social media posts. If anyone has any questions I'm open to answer them as best I can.