After a long absence and having lost the bulk of my prior blog material, let’s try this again!

My name is Charles. That is what I’m now going by, and I’m in the process of legally changing it…again. (I’ll explain in a later post.) Go ahead, google my name and stalk me. I don’t care, I know the reality I face should I begin to seriously blog.

Today celebrates the third anniversary of the last of my sex-change surgeries. Yes, I am transsexual, who transitioned female-to-male.

I do my best to live life as any other typical guy in his mid-30s: work hard at my job, play video games, watch nerdy tv, be there for my family and friends. I occasionally drink at my local gay bar (albeit as a trans guy, they don’t care), though otherwise I’m usually dry. I’m a bachelor, been a long time since I’ve dated, and I don’t actively date.

I grew up extremely tomboyish, and identified as a stone butch woman for 15 years (knowing I liked women from age 12, till I began to transition at the age of 27). I’ve had some in the family try to feminize me, didn’t work. I have suffered a double dose of “reparative” therapy, where the church I was forced to join (via an ex, my parents had no involvement) tried to erase my attraction to women, while forcing me into typically female behavior and roles (because of their belief in gender essentialism). Yea, I’ve attempted suicide several times as a result.

I knew since I was young I always wanted to be boy. I first heard of ”transsexual” and “transgender” whenI was 16, after watching a special on hermaphrodism and looking it up online. From 2010/2011 till 2014 I identified between butch and agender, but it wasn’t until I was 27 to finally transition to live my life as a man, when Janet Mock and Laverne Cox became headlines. Watching Queer as Folk followed by a stay at a women’s shelter confirmed I was male, not merely stone butch. Once I qualified for health insurance through my then employer, and finally getting my car fixed, I started my medically transition.

I obtained a double mastectomy (aka “top surgery” or “chest surgery”) in 2016, six months after starting HRT, and bottom surgery in 2017, not even a year later. My hysterectomy prevented me from getting meta, and both the surgeon and gynecologist did not want to redo that surgery, citing poor candidacy. I live with a vagina, but free of the reproductive organs that was a major cause of my physical sex dysphoria.

I call myself transsexual as opposed to “transgender”, because I feel like, with the word “queer”, that the latter word has watered down to mean anything and everything, including gender variance, and I am reclaiming a term that specifically means someone who has gender dysphoria, and takes the medical, legal, and social steps to live as a member of the opposite sex. It is short, specific, concrete, no need for long monologues involving gender or queer studies. Whether transsexual is still a subset of the transgender umbrella, or just a related group, is up in the air for me.

My documentation of my journey to manhood has been lost to time, with few posts still on the Internet archive under various old domains, some of which I was lucky to post to this blog (thus why this isn’t my blog’s first entry). Still, this will post my journey, post-op, as a man.

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