Thank you Hollywood

I spent the majority of my life trying to squeeze myself into the mold of what I thought a man was - there are societal and cultural expectations and norms for what men are, what men do and how men react to situations. In a nutshell, the Marlboro man crossed with Arnold and John Wayne and then rolled in Cary Grant and Roger Moore so I could pull off wearing a suit when I had to.

Son, brother, boyfriend, husband and then Dad - each of these roles have their own set of guidelines for normalcy, The guidelines are not written down per se, but males are constantly bombarded bombarded with reminders of them every time that we open our eyes and interact with the world.

Toys... here's your bat, hockey stick and GI Joe. Go hit something or someone and then shoot the rest of the people. Score - win.

Clothing... always some type of uniform whether it be jeans and t-shirt, a school team shirt or maybe a Scouts uniform. This is just preparation for later in life where boys become cops, firemen, fighter pilots, doctors or soldiers - each with their own uniform. Wear a uniform, be uniform.

Now for the real kicker - men get to be stoic, march in the rain, be the great defenders and the sacrificial goat. The silent sufferer who is protecting baseball and apple pie, wife, children and his country. All this while Annet and June stay home to take care of the kids and bake pies. Why?

It's because that's what Hollywood tells us we are. Thank you Hollywood for constantly providing me the opportunity to reach for an imaginary goal, for providing a constant sense of failure.

At any early point in what lead to the awareness of where I am now I came up with the notion that females had so much more latitude in life - they could fail, be weak, make mistakes, need help, be successful, assertive and expressive in their appearance. Right.

Thank you Hollywood for presenting an unachievable image of what a women is. Thank you Chatelaine and all of the other women's magazines. Thank you weight watchers, scales and a clothing size system that appears to be designed to toss a person into a serious depression.

Thank you Hollywood for forcing me to deal with the fact that while I am not perfect when measured against an impossible standard, I'm not so bad when compared with who I was.

Carly

The cost of coming out

I went into this knowing that sooner or later the people in my life would notice that my appearance, attiitude and mannerisms were changing - that's hardly surprising as that is one of the goals of this process. I just didn't think that it would happen so soon...

My LSGF probably knew before I did; she had the advantage of not living in denial and could see the turmoil that I was facing. Lucky her... and yes, I am being sarcastic here as she signed up for a hetero relationship and that came crashing down. Supportive, scared, hurt...

After my GP, shrink, endo and a nosy pharmacist joined the circle of knowledge I made the mistake of letting work know that I was transgendered and was taking medication. I would have been better off painting a target on my back as that's what I became - so much for being honest about it and giving them a heads up before I started puberty.

After a couple of months of an increasingly ugly environment at the job site I broke down and started crying while talking to the HR department of the company I work for - I was sobbing on the phone while I told them that I could not face work any more. I have to mention here that I was providing contracted expert services to the job site where I was working at - the gang I work for are not the bad guys. It's the others that enjoy making my life miserable.

Pretending that a person does not exist hurts just as bad as hurtful words...

At this point my GP listens to me - takes a good look at me - and writes a rather pointed little note. I'm changing and it's making life at work ugly...

Anyhow... I'm out of that mess for now.

So much for coming out. So much for honesty. So much for diversity.

Carly