Anyway, I'm Nikk: a pre-everything-but-honesty male transgender. I'm still in highschool, and I currently live in a fantasy world. Physically I reside in Honolulu, Hawaii.
Anyway what I have here is a short piece about transgenderism from my eyes. It's self-centric because it is a) an autobiographical narrative, b) intended for psychologist I'm currently seeing to give her a clearer view. But I thought it would fit well here, and I've been meaning to introduce myself here for a while.
Imagine that there are two wide blades about five feet across from each other. No matter how far you look in either direction you cannot see the point or the hilt. One blade is completely smooth on top, like a butcher knife. The other has a blade like a carved sea, dipping down in small waves. The straight blade has millions of females lined up along the edge, each one different from the others. The scalloped blade has a variety of males lined up along it.
Each male or female has a groove on the bottom of his or her foot that matches the knife’s blade. A male would have a different indent than a female. It is fine for a female to shuffle around on the female blade, and it is fine for a male to slide along the male blade. By doing so they adjust to a male or female role.
I was born with indentations on my feet that did not fit the female blade, despite the fact that I was born on the female blade. For the longest time I didn’t recognize that I was the only one that didn’t fit smoothly into the flat groove. I thought that everyone else had this discomfort. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—consider that I would fit better on a different blade.
By the time I was fifteen I recognized that I was mostly alone in my body of thought – I knew of no one else who didn’t quite fit. By sixteen I managed to swing one foot over to the other blade, so that I was perfectly suspended between the two blades, and I realized that I had been standing on the female blade for so long, that the scalloped grooves that were originally on my feet had molded slightly to a female groove. I couldn’t bring my other foot to the other side without painfully remolding the grooves on my feet to fit their original shape, and I couldn’t step back after feeling the truth.
I’m locked in a stalemate with those knives, temporarily at least. I can step neither way, and there are consequences for both. If I step back on the female side, I will actively betray my own thoughts and actions. This is the less preferable option. If I move forward, to the male side, then I will be forever grateful for being truthful to myself. If I decide to change, then I will have to completely remold the grooves so that I fit perfectly with the hundreds of other males and can shuffle along without pain.
- Current Mood: quixotic
- Current Music:Jon McLaughlin - Perfect