Monday, December 14, 2015

Lucky Girl

I applied for SNAP today.

I'm done with my degree program at Everett Community College, done but for the technicalities of crossing t's and dotting i's. When I went to school, this time around, I did it on the Post-9/11 GI Bill. I earned this as part of my compensation package while on active duty with the US Army. The GI Bill paid tuition directly to my school each quarter, and gave me a monthly cost-of-living stipend on a sliding scale that adjusted for active weeks of school in session for any given month. It also gave me a book stipend, up to $1,000 per year.

While far from extravagant, the stipend did permit me to move out of the church parking lot where hashtag-my-favorite-mistake and I lived for about a year and a half. It allowed me to keep paying on my car to avoid losing it completely, ultimately paying it off as the loan finished amortizing while my only income was the stipend. It kept my cats fed, it let me eat while I went to school, and it let me pay rent, most months, to my landlord, who happens to also be a very good friend. A very good friend who let me stay in this room for about a year before he asked me for any money at all.

Now that I've finished my degree, the hard part begins. I need to find a job. I will get one last partial GI Bill disbursement in late December or early January, and that's it. Once it gets here, I will probably have about $1,000 to my name. And even though DSHS says my car is worth about $2,700, my net worth is still well below zero.

Sounds rough, right? So, why am I smiling?


Because it is and it isn't rough. For a trans woman, I'm doing remarkably well. I have shelter. A little bit of money. I've managed to finish a degree program, and I haven't been forced into sex work. Yet. If all goes well, I'll be doing some kind of administrative work within a month, and be back into technical work within another five, all while still pursuing performance opportunities, with the support of an amazing girlfriend.

Part of pursuing performance (including modeling, acting, singing, and dancing) professionally is demonstrating comfort with public scrutiny. This wasn't a formal consideration when I just up and decided I was a public figure. A lot of it is stuff that I already do anyway, and things like the daily outfit selfies evolved out of wanting to track changes in my body that resulted from HRT. The goal, though, has always been to provide a candid window into my life. That's why, when I do a modeling shoot, I snap behind-the-scenes shots, and don't just put up the finished ones. It's why you can see close-ups of my face before and after electrolysis, even though neither is particularly attractive.

Some people think of social media as a way to project the image of a better life than what they actually have. To hide misery and create the kind of veneer of happiness that causes people to be shocked when they hear about a divorce announcement. I'd seen some news recently about a model who went kinda Shia LaBeouf about her career and the mechanisms of achieving internet fame, and her whole angle was about how social media is a lie. While I get what she was saying for her own life, I don't see mine that way.


I see my social media outlets as an intentional focus. For most of my life, I was incredibly ungrateful, and felt very entitled. I was very well-off in terms of survival needs, but I'd become so largely by accident. When the dot-com bubble burst and I found myself without proof of current skills in the form of any sort of degree or certification, I also found myself without professional contacts who wanted to hire me on the basis of having worked with me before, because they'd all lost their jobs, too. My entire professional network was out of work, and I sat around thinking, "why me?"

On paper, right now, today, my life is a train wreck. On fire. At the bottom of a cliff it just drove off of. I have thousands of dollars in actual debt spread across the last 20 years, probably thousands more in fraudulent debt assigned to me by a jilted ex, I live in a room in my friend's house which could be taken from me at a moment's notice, I don't have a job, I have uncovered medical expenses that I need to pay for out-of-pocket, girls like me are routinely subjected to discrimination that ranges from the absurd to the fatal.

Making all of those things into the defining aspects of my life would not be accurate, though. More and more, I've been developing my capacity to be genuinely grateful for the real bounty of my life. I have wonderful friends who respect me for who I am, and don't judge me based on my life circumstances. I've been able to rescue a number of cats who exist because of my mistakes, and, as hard as it will be, I now have the time and space and opportunity to start rehoming them. I have had the good fortune to have lunch with a state representative because I'd taken a paid performance opportunity. After we did our bit, I bent his ear for a moment about trans issues, and gave him one of my social cards. Isn't that wonderful?


One of the gentlemen at my table at this luncheon was the Director of Accessibility (or something like that) Director of Customer Service, Trusted Experience Team at Microsoft, and mentioned in his award acceptance speech how his team needed more good people; that if anyone knew any, they should refer them to him. So I referred myself. I gave him one of my social cards, and gratefully accepted his business card, along with his request for my current résumé. Isn't that wonderful? And, sure, I've now lost his card twice, each time because I'd very carefully put it somewhere where I knew I couldn't possibly lose it, but still. I'll find it, and send him my current résumé. And come back to this blog post and correct his title, if I've mucked it up. (Update: found it.)

I still have my guitar, the same one I've had since the early '90s. My hands still work well enough for me to play it. The songs I've written and performed with it have won praise from professional working musicians who move in circles I never believed I'd be even remotely connected to, even after I spent years petulantly wondering why nobody had discovered me and my music while I mostly hid in my room and played songs for myself. I have the respect and friendship of former instructors from The Art Institute of Seattle, one of whom wants to collaborate with me musically, another who invited me to see a private screening of his current work, another who is building an art installation and fashion show concept with trans women at its core, and wants me to model for it, still another who wants me to come speak to their Gender and Sexuality Studies class.

I have an amazing, patient, stable, brilliant, geeky, loving, determined, thoughtful girlfriend.


There's good and bad all around us, all the time. It's all gonna be there, no matter what. I spent about 25 years focusing on what was shitty, and I did it so well that I crippled my capacity to feel emotion of any sort, never mind just pleasure or gratitude. The shitty was limitless. I became a part of it as it became a part of me, and I. Was. Miserable.

Now, I've spent about a year really practicing focusing on what's wonderful. And I've come to realize that the wonderful is limitless, too. And now that it's become a part of me, I strive to bring a positive feedback loop with me wherever I go, instead of a negative one. I give a stranger a genuine smile, and get one back, and we're both a little happier for it. We both have one more thing to look back on, that day, and say, "that was wonderful." I get attacked on social media, and I reason with the attacker, wishing them well at the end of our interaction, no matter the outcome. People message me privately to say my compassion was inspiring to them, my refusal to fight at the expense of true engagement. We both have one more thing to look back on, that day, and say, "that was wonderful."

This is a trying time. My resources are now very painfully finite. But, I applied for SNAP, and they approved my claim. Now, if nothing else, I'll be able to eat. And that is wonderful. If I get a job in the next week, I'll look back and say, "that was a scary week, but now that it's past, it wasn't so bad." If I get a job in three months, I'll say, "that was a really rough three months, but now I can really get to work." And all along the way, I'll say, "here I am, today, smiling, because I am such a lucky girl."

It's not that I have had more luck. It's that I've been consciously focusing on it.

And that is wonderful.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

Venus Rising

(This post is NSFW.)

If you've ever seen a video with audio that is ever so slightly out of sync, so slightly that you couldn't even figure out that that was the problem at first, you'll have some slight notion of how I felt without HRT. All day. Every day. Everything was off. Everything. In some fundamental way that was key to how I existed in the world at all, how I interacted with anyone and anything, everything just felt awful, but I also had no way of knowing it could be any better than awful. I am honestly amazed I managed to avoid killing myself. In the year since I've been on Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), I've noticed a lot of changes. Many of them are the kinds everyone can see. But the most important ones are invisible.

A photo posted by Seranine Elliot (@aggressivefrontpocket) on

I'd read about the effects of HRT, always in terms of the physical; breast development usually in line with cisgender women of one's family, finer hair texture, softer skin, and so on. I'd also read that some girls saw very little or no visible outward impact. I saw one girl's pictures of herself after more than two years of HRT, and she showed no visible breast development in any of them. Shortly before my endocrinology appointment, I realized that I'd have to come to terms with the fact that I just couldn't predict exactly what would happen, so I'd need to be okay with anything. Or nothing.

At the time, flush with the revelation of my previously misunderstood gender, that wasn't very hard. I was just so absolutely relieved to able to experience a full range of emotions, to get up and go out for the day feeling like good things would happen, to be pleased with how I looked. The things that upset me, even big things, just didn't upset me that much. And the happy things, they were brilliant flashes of ecstatic joy that left afterimages superimposed over everything else for hours or days.

When I was younger, as soon as puberty began, I developed an immediate and almost pathological aversion to body hair of any kind. I didn't think much of this at the time, but as it coincided with the onset of a deep depression that lasted roughly 30 years, I think now that this was another level of me understanding but also not understanding the problem. In the same way that I'd never liked my old name, but couldn't think of any other boy's names that felt any less wrong, I didn't like the kind of body hair I was developing, and I especially did not like it growing on my face, but since I felt like it was supposed to go that way, I just thought of it as a dislike, an opinion. I did not think to consider a girl's name in the same way I did not think to consider any way to prevent the growth from happening. It just never occurred to me that I could do either. Guys in my school who had started to have facial hair come in grew as much as they could, while I futilely hoped that mine would never come.


I made it to my appointment and was in and out with a prescription quickly and easily. I remember being a little bit annoyed that even though my name had been legally changed, and my gender legally corrected, my prescription bottles still had my old name on them, because that information had not propagated through the VA Medical system at that time. But mostly, I remember being relieved that no precluding conditions had been revealed. Their biggest concern seemed to be whether I was a tobacco user or not, and I was told anecdotally about a trans woman who found out she had to quit smoking before they'd put her on estradiol, since the combined risk of blood clots was too high to be considered acceptable. From what I understand, she found the will to quit rather quickly, and permanently. I've never been a tobacco user, so I was fine.

The first week on HRT was challenging. It wasn't exactly bad, but it was definitely difficult. I was experiencing emotions with an intensity I'd never even been able to conceive of before. While part of me actually found this satisfying, because I had starved myself of any emotion of any kind for so long, I also worried that my mood would be permanently volatile. Even when facing the possibility of that, I understood that I'd be much happier overall than I'd been before. When the first week ended and the volatility started to die down, I remembered having a new worry. I worried that whenever my doses were changed, I might be just as moody again.

When I'd been on Effexor XR, an antidepressant, in the past, and that dosage was shifted up or down by any amount over any period of time, I was completely exhausted for a fairly predictable term, usually about two weeks. I would be awake for maybe 6-8 hours a day, max. After my body had adjusted to the new dose, that went away, but it happened every time the dose was altered, whether increased or decreased. Since that was being done on a monthly basis for awhile, it felt like half my life was erased. I was afraid that I'd have a solid week of volatile moodiness every time my HRT doses were adjusted. This fear proved unfounded.

With HRT, while I remember seeing some mild breast development fairly quickly, I noticed much more than that how tremendously, after the first week, my overall mood and sense of well-being gelled and stabilized into something fairly consistent and reliable. And positive. I was already happy, having finally figured out what the problem had always been, and knowing how completely true and right that felt, to have a real core truth of self that had always been missing. Or hidden, I should say. If realizing I had been incorrectly designated male at birth was the eruption of a volcano, HRT has been the myriad intangible environmental factors that solidified it into a mountain.

Before long, a clear cycle emerged. I experience regular monthly (more or less) symptoms of PMS, but as I have no uterus, they are almost entirely emotional. Every fourth week or so, I'll have about three days of mildly increased irritability, and greatly increased emotional volatility. Self-awareness helps the most with all of it; just knowing what it is makes it easy to discount things that I think or feel that seem distorted in any way. It's never very hard for me to enjoy the giddy happy parts, and to feel and fully experience the more deeply sad or upset parts without having them linger or take over after they'd run their course.

Perhaps the hardest part to explain to anyone is how I am happy even with the saddest parts, even when they are at their worst. Experiencing PMS, even without the raging uterus throwing out everything it's spent the last month building, is affirming in a way. It's not exactly pleasant, per se, but in a meta sense, the fact that it's the kind of unpleasantness my brain feels like it has always been expecting feels good in that it feels right. It feels right in the same way that before, without HRT, everything felt wrong. Some fundamental level below consciousness, where reality lives. This is what I mean when I try to explain to my cis female friends that if there was a way for me to have an actual uterus and ovaries and everything, I'd absolutely do it, cramps and all, even if I can't possibly imagine how bad they could get. Because they'd be the right kind of bad, the kind of bad that is a simple fact of life for most women.

Spontaneous erections, that fact of life for most men, died off, and I don't remember when. I've had a few in the past year, but they're incredibly rare, now, though they remain just as random as before. The first time it happened after having not happened for a long time, I remember being absolutely mortified. I was at school, so I wasn't able to go hide anywhere or anything. But by the time I realized that there was nothing I could do, it subsided, and that was that. It also occurred to me one day that while I knew there had been a last time that I'd masturbated, I couldn't remember when it was or anything else about it at all. I'm not getting into any details here, and I can of course only speak for myself, but under the influence of estrogen and not testosterone, my penis behaves very differently than it did with testosterone and not estrogen.

When I was in my initial endocrinology consult, I'd been told that my libido would go off a cliff. Every "warning" they gave me to make sure I knew what I was signing myself up for sounded wonderful. No more rapacious sex drive making me absolutely miserable because I hated sex exactly as much as I felt compelled to seek it out? Sign me up.

But my libido didn't go off a cliff. It didn't even get any smaller, really. It just changed shape. Have you ever heard the thing about the elephant's foot and the point of a stiletto heel? The idea is that the pressure beneath the stiletto heel under the weight of an average person is greater than the pressure under the elephant's foot, because the pressure is focused more narrowly. That was what my testosterone-driven sex drive felt like. I perceived it as sharp and demanding, here and then gone, disruptive and distracting.

Once I started HRT, my libido started changing shape. Rather than my previous state of being very binary about sex — either absolutely not thinking about it at all, or absolutely unable to think about anything else — I moved into a more stable, oceanic state. Things can shift and change and heat and cool, but everything happens gradually, now, and this, too, feels ineffably natural. Especially in contrast with what I'd had going on before. Now, instead of being 0%, no sex, or 100%, yes sex, I'm kind of 85% sex all the time, except when I'm actually having sex, and it's amazing. I don't know how to explain that any better. It's not "sex" in the sense of the actual act, it's more like... being in touch with that thing that makes all life possible, which expresses itself, in most adult humans, sexually. My physicality in any space, the things I say and the way I say them... it's all become this celebration of life, of being alive.

When I do have sex, it feels very natural and right, but having never previously experienced anything like what I have now, I'd never known what "natural" or "right" truly felt like. I could feel physically sated before, but never really actually satisfied in the way that I've discovered really great sex can make me feel. Connecting on any deeper level with my partner was exceedingly rare, even within the context of a single long-term monogamous relationship. There's a Weezer song that goes, "I'm sorry for what I did, I did what my body told me to, I didn't mean to do you harm," and that is probably the best way to sum up my relationship with my own body without HRT, and how I felt about what my partners must have thought, even when they pointedly reassured me that they did not. Life was an awful, high-anxiety scramble to seek out sex, have sex, and not really enjoy the sex or anything else about the whole situation, forever.

My best friend, when we were a couple, tried explaining to me once how an entire day could be sex, an entire day could be foreplay and love and closeness, and I literally could not understand it. I couldn't. I would try to do whatever she said, you know... really focus on eating this strawberry, enjoy its complete strawberriness, from the texture of the skin giving way to the texture of the meat on my teeth as they cut through it, to the juices going into my mouth, to the juices running down my chin. Or whatever. And I'd try, but I'd just be annoyed that there was sticky juice on my chin, and then I'd wonder when we'd get to the fucking.

The jagged, brittle obsidian of my former sex drive was softened and polished into something beautiful. The world has a color now that it did not have before. It's not the old metaphor of black-and-white vs. color. It's more like the earliest color movies vs. the most modern ones. Before, the world had a subtle unreality to it. It did not look like the world, it looked like a poor representation of the world. Now, it's cinematic and beautiful. Things that used to challenge me in Buddhist books I'd read, like being completely present while looking at a leaf, have become almost frighteningly easy, when I remember to even try to do them.

At my three-month checkup, the doctor seemed surprised at how much breast tissue I'd developed on such a low dose over such a short period. I remember feeling very self-satisfied, like this was some kind of sign that my body was pleased to finally have a medium in which it could exist as it was meant to. My doses were adjusted slightly, doubling the estradiol and spironolactone to 2mg and 100mg per day, respectively. The medroxyprogesterone dose did not change, and it never has. It's been 5mg per day since the beginning. The patient name on the bottles of the second set of meds was correct. It was a small change but it mattered a lot to me. It didn't feel like anyone was trying to imply that I was medicating Jason into oblivion, anymore. It felt like Sera had her girly pills, and that was it.


At the six month checkup, I had been directed to immediately double the spironolactone dose to a total of 200mg per day, and to gradually increase the estradiol to 3mg and then ultimately 4mg. I was instructed to stay at 2mg estradiol daily until two weeks at 200mg spironolactone had passed, then bump to 3mg for another two weeks before finally settling at 4mg by May 2015.

Physical changes started becoming suddenly noticeable, and I'm reminded of when I was a kid. We had a puppy named Cubby, and whenever I'd stay the weekend at a friend's house and return, Cubby always seemed like he'd grown enormously since I'd seen him last, just a couple days before. Registering the physical changes felt a lot like that. In May 2015, with the stabilized new normal regimen of HRT, my figure appeared to change dramatically. I'm sure that what really happened was that it had been slowly and surely filling in, and that I just actually noticed it, finally, but the physical changes seemed to all work more or less like this. One day, I'd notice that I had hips. Another day, I'd notice that what little body hair I had was indeed much finer in texture and thickness than before. I would try on a strapless dress that hadn't been able to stay up before, and it would sit just right because I had finally developed enough of a bust.


Around this time, I heard about the #FreeTheNipple campaign on social media, and I started to wonder whether I'd be taken down or left up if I posted a topless picture of myself. I figured, if they take me down, that's Instagram weighing in on my gender, saying "this one's a girl." And if they left me up, I'd be out there with my bare breasts and free nipples, a victory of a different sort. But I worried about potentially opening myself up to violence, and thought it was probably a bad idea.

Anyway, I put the picture up, and it took Instagram all of an hour to take it down, with their standard message about how I had violated their community guidelines. I posted a follow-up picture, with my pajama top back on, mildly grateful to them for acknowledging that I was a woman, at least. My body was being censored, just like any other girl's. The whole trilogy is a roller-coaster ride from start to finish, and if you want to see my bare breasts, this is probably gonna be the only way for awhile.


I felt fine, overall. Nothing seemed unusual or bad in any way. But at the nine month checkup, my doctor seemed surprised to learn that I hadn't been feeling physically ill or in any undue pain — because my estrogen levels were about three times an average cis woman's levels. Through raised eyebrows and constant head-shaking, she reduced my estradiol dosage immediately back down to 2mg per day. I guess it worked, because I still haven't died.

At last, I've achieved my goal of being so dangerously #girly that I might die of #femininity. Blood #estrogen levels 3x normal average for an adult cis woman, so we're dropping my #estradiol back down to 2mg daily, instead of the 4mg it was raised to in April. Vitals all well within normal range, but keeping my dose so high is an unnecessary risk. At my next appointment, just past my #HRT anniversary, I will get a referral for orchiectomy, which my #VA doctor informed me is covered for trans veterans. #😁 I've also been getting compliments ALL day on this outfit and my looks in general, so I'm even more excited about being seen at Trans #Pride tonight! I figured I'd celebrate all of this with a #happy #salad. #🍴 #😊 #Seattle #Washington #transgender #veteran #trans #girl #girlslikeus #selfie
A photo posted by Seranine Elliot (@aggressivefrontpocket) on

Somewhere along the line, I experienced a craving for dark chocolate. I mean an actual craving. I had previously thought I'd had cravings for things now and then, but once I felt this craving, I realized that everything I'd previously thought to be a craving was really just a gentle suggestion of the faintest whisper of desire. I felt like I was going to literally die if I did not get a ton of chocolate. Fortunately, my landlord responded to my text begging for chocolate, and brought me a bar or two and some chocolate ice cream with chocolate pieces in it, which were probably covered in some other kind of chocolate. I don't remember, I just devoured most of it, and then felt much better. I assumed at the time that this would just be a monthly thing, so I stocked up on a wide variety of chocolates. It hasn't happened since.

Yesterday, I had my one-year checkup. While in the waiting area, a woman asked if I was going to a Halloween party. She asked, I imagine, because I had about four days' worth of facial hair growth, since I had electrolysis yesterday, as well. I smiled at her, said "no," and then gave her one of my cards. She flipped it over a few times to take it all in, then put the card away with her things and thanked me for giving it to her. We talked for a little while about other things, like our shared Japanese heritage.

In the actual appointment itself, I met the actual endocrinologist for the first time, rather than a resident, and she was fantastic. She's very trans-services-positive, and argues the evidence every time she has an opportunity; these services vastly improve and save lives. We talked briefly about how the VA seems to be coming along with more and better transition service coverage, and I expressed my belief that the VA would cover most or all major transition services within five years. She seemed to find this belief reasonable. I gave her one of my cards, and she thanked me, jotting down a few notes on it for later. When it was over, the plan going forward was for me to manage refills on my own for longer periods without checkups in between, and for me to wait on a phone call from urology to schedule the consult for my orchiectomy.


I don't know where I'd be without HRT. I really can't even imagine. I like to think I'd be nearly as happy overall, still, that I'd finally realized who I really was all along. I don't want to be so hyperbolic as to suggest it's as valuable as the air I breathe. But perhaps there's a good metaphor there. Being on HRT is like having clean air, instead of smog so thick you can physically feel it when you walk through it. It's like having a healthy, balanced diet, instead of nothing but frozen microwave pizzas and Pepsi every day. Being on HRT feels good, like relieving a headache. It's as if all my life I'd been constantly struggling just to be able to have the basic capacity to even try to build towards happiness and productivity, and now I rest naturally at that starting point, at the worst.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Kindred

In February 2015, a League of Legends tournament operator changed a rule for their girls-only Iron Solari tournament: only one LGBT girl per team, or there would be an “unfair advantage.” Riot, the makers of League of Legends, had an immediate response.

When it comes to LGBT acceptance, Riot has been doing two things that have compelled me to write this, and write it now, and that is why I am not getting much else done today; because I just cannot stop thinking about all the ways in which this is coming together, and the ways in which Riot has been really really really clever. They are taking an audience that has a not-insignificant amount of bigots, and subtly causing them to shift and open their minds in ways that they might not necessarily feel comfortable doing directly with humans.

I don't remember when I started playing League, exactly, but it was definitely quite a while before I had my whole gender revelation. I would sometimes kind of take the game to task, among my friends, for some things that I saw as sort of like playing to tropes, playing to ethnic stereotypes, or playing to even gendered stereotypes. But Riot is not really any more guilty of that than most other media producers I've seen who are inventing original characters and original stories and original content around their game, or even just broadly, like comics or movies or whatever.

By that I mean things like the women being always thin, very fit, and the same with the guys for the most part, with a few exceptions. My earlier complaints would be things like, on the male side, with male champions, you have champions like Gragas, you have champions like Urgot, who are male, and definitely clearly masculine, but also in a kind of non-mainstream way, in that Gragas is very heavy, and Urgot is kind of grotesquely disfigured, and sort of half-human. There weren't really any female examples of that.

The women were all still really thin. There was some variance in breast size, and that was kind of it. But that was the starting point for something that's become really impressive. Waifish Jinx came out, and she had very very very small breasts. She was the first female champ that I remember seeing who wasn't a child, like Annie, with such a small build. It was nice to see some variety come in.

But in the last six months or year, Riot has really started to get creative with their champions. They are challenging their community's capacity to understand things outside of gender binary, and outside of culturally normalized gender roles. They are doing this by presenting new champions who don't look like what the audience thinks someone who uses pronouns like "she" and "her" should look like, but instead just presenting someone who is that way, in a world where that mostly doesn't matter. They have the ability to do this because it's a fantasy setting. They can come to their audience with a character that is not human at all, where all of the extranormative things about that character are so out there that their gender becomes the least confusing thing about them.

The first example of this, which was kind of impressive, but didn't blow me away as much as the one I'm going to get to, is Rek'sai. Rek'sai is female, an alien monstrosity... uh, thing. She's this rapidly-tunneling land-shark sort of creature that's kind of short and squat and really wide, but she also will literally pop up out of the ground under your champion, and take them to pieces.

On the forums, there'd be some discussion, where people would say things like "I wonder when he will come out?" or whatever, but when Rioters would speak about her, they'd gender her correctly because that's a matter of brand consistency, if nothing else. Riot is clear about what Rek'sai is. There is no ambiguity about her gender, but a fair sized segment of people see a character concept like Rek'sai, and they want the gender to be masculine because of how she looks. Even so, whenever she was misgendered on the forums, there was always a response from someone in the community correcting that.

So we have people getting used to this model of understanding two things. One is that if someone misgenders someone else, it's appropriate to correct them, and two, any idea of what is required for someone or something to be female is challenged. For non-humans, we don't get hung up on this as much in reality. You see a girl dog, and you think it's a boy, and you say "how old is he," and they say, "oh, she's two," and you say, "oh, 'she,'" okay, great. No big deal. Minor mistake, it's fixed, nobody cares, and the dog never had any idea.

But in fantasy settings, we have the advantage of creating something entirely new that's outside of everyone's understanding or experience, and saying, by the way, this thing has gender, and even though your expectation based on appearance is that her gender is male, it's not; her gender is female. And that maps really pretty closely to the thought processes that are required to get your head around trans people being legitimately whatever gender they understand themselves to be.

One of the difficult things in educating people about what being trans looks like is managing any expectation that people think about these things if they don't know any trans people, or anyone else that is really outside of the realm of their experience, outside the realm of their day-to-day lives. If they don't have a reason to know about it, if they feel they don't have a reason to have the vocabulary about it, it can feel kind of oppressive to have someone come in and say, "you need to behave this way, you need to refer to me in that way." Rek'sai gives Riot a way to get people to do that without feeling so opposed to it, because League of Legends is something that they've come to of their own accord.

People are showing up and playing because they love the game. Whether they love the mechanics or the lore or the construction of the world, the way that the maps are designed, whatever it is, they want to be there. They're invested in it. And Riot, the people who have created that world, are able to dictate some parameters of that world, and say, "this is it, this is the world, so, take it or leave it." And they have enough of a customer base, they have a good enough product in terms of a value proposition in gaming, that they can get away with that.

The thing that really impressed me, though, was not Rek'sai. I didn't even realize all of these subtle things about Rek'sai until recently. The thing that's impressed me a lot more is this teaser of a champion that's not out yet, as of this writing, called Kindred. Kindred, if you look at the concept art, is designed as two spirits. Which itself un-subtley refers to a widely understood queer and/or transgender model; the Native American two-spirit.

Kindred is plural, a pair of beings who are never without each other, who cannot be separated further. They are two, but they are atomic. They are two, but they are one. And in the cinematic teaser, Wolf has a voice that might be described as male-typical, and Lamb has a voice that might be described as female-typical. And they also have sort of more stereotypically masculine and feminine sort of properties. Wolf, as one might guess, is the more masculine energy side, more aggressive, feral, direct action, attacking stuff. And Lamb is more overseeing, caretaking, with a healing aspect that is represented in "Lamb's Respite," Kindred's ultimate ability. But because they are two, even though it's a singular entity in terms of game mechanics, the pronouns for this champion are "they" and "them" and "theirs." And so, I've seen already on the boards, people will pronoun Kindred as "he" or "she," and sometimes they are corrected. And when corrected, sometimes there is a pushback. But in this case, there's no ambiguity about the character's pronouns the way there may be some understandable debate about them in reality, because Riot controls the reality of Runeterra, the game's setting, absolutely.

Riot doesn't need to police the forums and go in and correct people misgendering Kindred via pronouns, they can just keep using those pronouns consistently in all media regarding the character. In this way, they also set a great example for trans people in managing reaction to being misgendered in their own lives; if you are misgendered and you correct someone, there's a chance you'll have some pushback, and it may even become relatively violent. But, if you just keep asserting yourself, people will probably come around eventually, and even if they don't, your allies will reveal themselves. The other thing that's really obvious as a call-out to this sort of two-spirit model, which is really heavily influenced by gender, is the symbology that's used for the masks that Lamb and Wolf wear, and even their own coloring, which are both plainly inspired by the yin and yang concept. With the darker shade of coat and the lighter tint of mask, Wolf is plainly masculine with an aspect of feminine, in terms of visual composition, and is established in opposing balance with Lamb, whose colors are reversed.

This is really impressive to me, that a company that has this size of an audience, an audience that has a lot of people in it who are really transphobic, biphobic, take your pick... non-cisgender-heterosexual-phobic... has been releasing champions that challenge our notions of gender. I saw something on the boards the other day, where this trans girl was being bullied about her appearance and the fact of her being trans. I reached out to her and was like, "hey, I'm here for you." It was important to me to be sure that she knew she was not alone, because being rejected so broadly leads very quickly to a sense of alienation, a sense of isolation, a sense that maybe who we are is wrong, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She seemed confused by this, and a little bit defensive, which is understandable given the kinds of introductory messages girls like us get online. I went on to say, more or less, "this is me, here's my Facebook page if you want to get to know me at all, but I'm mostly just here to let you know that I'm here for you, and that's it." And I left her alone after that, but she's initiated chat with me since then, and I feel like I've done a good thing. I reached out to her in the first place because her forum name and summoner game name is very much "I am female," and her post on a selfies thread on the general discussion board had people saying things like, "that's not a trap, that's an ambush," which is referring to this idea that a trans girl is trying to "trap" someone, or trick them into thinking that they're a "real girl," as if they were anything else.

Somebody else posted this sort of trollface or grossed-out kind of face cartoon drawing, that said "cross-dresser" under it really large. There's definitely a lot of vitriol around girls like me in gaming communities in general, and specifically within League's community. But Riot, for its part, is saying that they don't agree with that. They're not just passively saying "hey, we don't like that," but that they're completely opposed to it in their corporate philosophy.

This was really illustrated clearly in February, when a tournament operator called Garena, from the Philippines, was changing some rules around their Iron Solari tournament. The Solari in game lore are represented in Leona, who has sun-themed abilities and iconography. So the Iron Solari tournament, inspired by that, is a girls-only League of Legends tournament.

Very briefly, as in "in the course of 24 hours" briefly, in February, Garena issued a statement saying that they had heard from a number of their players that perhaps if a team had a lesbian or bi or transgender girl on their team, that they got an unfair advantage for some unknown reason. The text of the announcement literally said "may probably have some unfair advantage." They of course got a backlash from people in the community, but then they had a pretty strong and unsubtle backlash from Riot themselves.

Riot tweeted an unambiguous statement that "LGBT players are welcome at official LoL tourneys. We're working with partners to ensure consistency with our values across all regions." In other words, if you do not allow unrestricted access to LGBT players at your tournament, it will not be an official League of Legends tournament. And if you don't have the support of League of Legends' publisher for your League of Legends tournament, that is a big problem.

The next day, Garena rescinded the rule, saying they "sincerely apologize for any offense we caused to the LGBT and gaming communities." It had the usual corporate non-apology trappings of how their initial decision "created a lot of good discussion and debate," and how they had been "discussing the ruling with our partners and re-examining our approach" and ultimately changed their minds, but it was pretty clear what happened.

Maybe, I don't know, six months after Kindred's come out, it will be really natural for people to refer to someone that they understand as a single entity as "they" or "them." So when they meet a non-binary person after that, now they have a model. Instead of having a reaction of "that's crazy, that doesn't make any sense," they have this concept they can attach it to. It might not be completely accurate or relevant, but it will be in the ballpark. Someone can say to them, "hi, my name's Chris, my pronouns are they, them, and theirs," and instead of having no idea how to respond, now the listener can think, "oh, they're like Kindred, okay."

And then everything is easy. Because they've already had conversations with their friends about Kindred, as a champion, and because Riot is very clear about "this is the grammar," and "these are the words," it gives people a way, through play, to flip that switch, and get their heads around saying something like, "we need Kindred to come and gank top, we need them to get there fast." And then they meet someone who's non-binary, and suddenly it's not that hard for them to talk to their friends about this person, or to use their pronouns properly. If their friends play League, too, there's no need to go into an explanation that they may not feel equipped to give. It just becomes normal, or at least more normal, and less alien.

They can say, "I was hanging out with Chris last night at their place, we had pizza, and they were like, 'do you want Mountain Dew, or Coke?' and I was like, 'I want vodka,'" or whatever. The pronouns disappear, mechanically, and the message is conveyed because the hangup of using a pronoun that deliberately keeps some aspect ambiguous, or defined as "outside of the Gender Binary," disappears, too. It normalizes the use of non-binary pronouns, which is fantastic. Non-binary pronouns are something that I still struggle with. Like most people, I have been encultured to presume gender and assign it mentally, even to people I will never interact with at all.

If I see someone on a bus that appears outwardly feminine to me, and I tell a story about them later to a friend, I will almost certainly refer to them as "she," even though that may not be accurate. I have non-binary friends whom I still instinctively read as male or female, and having an extra model in my head to associate them with reduces that.

I know very few non-binary people, and it's difficult for me to correctly use their pronouns. It is sort of alien to me. And I also understand that they're right, and that the problem is me, and not their identity.

This is the genius of what Riot is doing with these kinds of champions, like Rek'sai, and Kindred. They're saying, "Rek'sai is she. Kindred is they." And that's it. They don't have to come out and have Rek'sai say "my pronouns are she/her/hers," they just always consistently state them that way. Because that's what they are.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Dear Conservative Media,

I wanted to write you a formal apology, because I fear I've let you down. I know you've worked very hard to establish as fact the myth that girls like me are dangerous to all other kinds of girls in shared, gendered public facilities. And I know that that myth has been so thoroughly debunked that it would be funny if not for the reality that it even had to (has to!) be debunked, but I also know how powerful belief is, and that on some level you need this to be true. And I am sorry, but I cannot help you with making it so.

I've been using women's restrooms and facilities in public places for a full year, now, starting one month nearly to the day from the first moment I began to realize that I'd been incorrectly designated male at birth. During that time, I have managed to plan and/or execute exactly zero attacks, invasions of privacy, or lewd acts. I considered making a graph, but since everything on it would've been zero, it seemed silly. I also considered providing police reports, but then I remembered that there aren't any, because I haven't done anything wrong. I did not track how many times I used these kinds of facilities, nor did I investigate any of them as I entered or left to determine whether I was alone.

I have been known on occasion to take selfies while in public restrooms, but these instances, in addition to being comparatively rare, have also failed to cause any distress in anyone present, as far as I have seen. It may be that I was actually alone every time I've done this, but I was too focused on trying to get a not-blurry shot of that day's dress or makeup or what-have-you that I can't say for sure, and, as I said above, I've never checked to see who else is or is not in a public restroom with me. All I've ever checked for is whether anyone but me is visible in the frame.


If there are other sorts of despicable things you believe I may have done in public, shared women's facilities, acts that I may have failed to imagine (sorry again), please don't hesitate to write, and I will do my best to recall. But I can save you some time and let you know right now that the entire list of my activities in public restrooms has thus far been limited to: peeing, pooping, texting, checking Facebook, reading, washing my hands, doing or fixing my makeup, brushing my teeth, very infrequently taking a selfie, and maybe emailing. Maybe. If you ask me whether I've done much of anything else in these kinds of places, barring a response along the lines of "I administered CPR one time" (if that ever happens), the answer will be "no."

The first year mark is special for a lot of trans milestones, for me, personally. Beyond that, I can't promise I'll commemorate anniversaries in any way. But I can assure you that, given the fact that the only times the idea of a girl like me going on some kind of rampage through public restrooms and whatnot crosses my mind are when I've read yet another report of any of you spreading the myth that that's a thing girls like me do, I will remain no threat to anyone, and I again apologize. Between contributing to your discomfort at trying to comprehend what a girl like me really is (hint: a girl), or contributing to actual harm to actual people, I find myself compelled to choose the former.

I get that it can be really hard to understand any whole group of people when you don't know any of them, or when you maybe know just a few. You're left trying to make sense of whatever you see based on your own understanding of reality. But that's not going to work very well, because you are not me. That's why I'd like to invite you to come and get to know me. If you Like my Public Figure Page, you'll see my posts in your feed as if I was any of your other Facebook friends. It's mostly pictures of me and my cats, but sometimes I link to other stuff, like this blog.

If you don't like seeing the kinds of content I post, that's okay, you can just message me and ask what I think of your favorite band, or something. We can talk about whatever.

Maybe you've had a bad day and want to vent to someone. Maybe your mom was really unreasonable and you're frustrated. I know how that feels. I have good days, and I have bad days. I struggled with depression for a very long time, though that's been gone since I realized I was a girl all along. Maybe you want to talk about stuff like that.

I've thought about my gender and my sexuality a lot, and pretty deeply, but in my regular day-to-day, I don't really talk about either much. If you want to get to know more about mine, I will probably just point you to this blog, really, but we can talk about your gender and sexuality if you want. Maybe you've been wondering about some aspects of both or either, and you want someone you can just bounce thoughts off of. If I don't have a good answer for you, I won't give you one at all.

We could talk about other stuff. I really like cooking (and eating, let's be honest), and I write songs and I have lots of opinions on music in general. I kind of grew up on a few Marvel comics properties, so I've been super happy to see the movies become a thing. Also, I love cats and owls. Oh, and I play games like World of Warcraft and League of Legends on my PC. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say. Whatever you want to ask, you can ask. I will do my level best to take you as seriously as you take me.

The point is that it doesn't have to be all gender stuff all the time, because my life isn't all gender stuff all the time. My gender is just part of what my life is made out of. It's not a hobby or a thing I do. There's no real goal about it. I'm just me.

So, all I ask is that you get to know me for awhile, first, and then decide on your own whether I'm really worth hurting.

Love,

Seranine Elliot

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Hero of the Sin'dorei

I did mention elsewhere that I'd probably blog about my return to WoW before I'd blog more about my sexuality or whatever, and now that time has come. But fear not, if you're here for a progressive social justice examination of the world, broadly, and, indirectly, of the World (of Warcraft), you'll find what you're after. You'll just have to wade through a bunch of self-involved nerdy garbage to get to it, and, since you're on the internet, that should be old hat by now.

I first started playing WoW probably around 2008, and although I enjoyed the game quite a lot, especially in terms of mechanics, I ended up having a falling-out with Blizzard. I was always a role-player in these games, living out the lives of women I wished I was because I didn't yet understand that I already was a woman, and could go start living my own actual life any time.

I was on a role-playing server, which means the players are generally expected to play and act, via their characters, as though they are actually IN the World of Warcraft. This extends to "proper" names for the culture of whatever race the player has selected for that character. If you have a character on an RP server named CaptainNutStomper, you will probably be reported and have that character forcibly renamed, at least. But, WoW also has several Non-Player Characters (NPCs) who have names that clearly and unsubtley reference real-world figures, such as Haris Pilton, a fashionable bag vendor. So I made a Night Elf who was a Druid by class, and since Druids can assume the form of a cat, I named her Lolcat.


I'd developed an entire backstory that I wrote out to very logically explain why she had this name in a world without an internet or cat memes. It was essentially a phonemic evolution of a slightly different phrase, and, given the game's use of real-world figures and concepts as gags within the World, I thought this would be well-received, or at the very worst met with an eye-roll and a groan. But someone reported the name as not lore-appropriate, and I got into a back-and-forth with Blizzard's customer service about it. It ended with them saying "sorry, no" over and over, and me saying "I will no longer support your company in any way," before selling or throwing out every Blizzard product I'd collected to that point, which was a fair pile of games and merchandise.

This may seem childish and petty and overreactive, and if you were to say so, while past-me would have gotten even more upset, present-me is right there with you. I'm actually laughing about it, as I write this. Laughing at myself. I still think Blizzard was hypocritical, but I also think that doesn't matter. I wanted to control their behavior, but really, I can only ever control my own, and I behaved poorly. The actual relevant thing here is that this was my mode of interacting with the world for a very long time. I interacted with the world as a child who had had his toys taken away, even when I hadn't. Even when I still had more than I could hold or keep track of.

I was very angry and frustrated with life in general, and I had no idea why. Everything felt wrong, but I could not articulate how or in what way, along what axes. I was, I assumed, a straight white male, and I was bombarded with media messaging about how I was a privileged person, how I had all the power in any social interaction, and yet that felt wrong to me. When the dot-com bubble burst, I was unemployed for a few years. That ended when I enlisted in the Army, and after medically separating, I returned to being unemployed, where I've more or less remained. That was in April of 2009. Within a few years, I was homeless. I'm only not homeless now because of the generosity of a very good friend.

I couldn't reconcile my supposed privilege with the absolute misery of my life. The problem was a semantic one. (I've since concluded that most of the problems around gender and sexuality stem from semantics, but that's another post for another day. It's probably another entire series of posts, to be honest.) I had heard the word "privilege" being applied to me, and I thought something along the lines of "privilege: noun (priv-uh-lij) 1. the presence of substantial advantage." But that's not really what people mean when they are talking about White Privilege, or Male Privilege, or Straight Privilege. That's more like "privilege: noun (priv-uh-lij) 1. the absence of substantial disadvantage."

Having privilege, socially, culturally, doesn't mean that nothing can or ever will go wrong for you. It means that when something does go wrong, your suffering will not be as great, all other things being equal, as that of someone who does not have the same absence of substantial disadvantage that you have. All other things being equal, in any given scenario, the more straight, white, and male you are, the better you will come out compared to anyone else. That can be in a positive sense (maximum earning potential, social recognition and status) or a negative sense (victimization, ostracization, bodily autonomy).

I very intimately get what it feels like to believe that the world is selling you a bill of goods (you have lots of power) when your actual life doesn't jive with that (you are unemployed and ultimately homeless for awhile). When I read about something like Sad Puppies or Gamergate, I know that these guys aren't acting with full understanding. And I also know that they are absolutely convinced that they are.

When I left WoW, I searched for a new Massively Multiplayer Online game (MMO) to replace it. I still had a pathological need to have social and cultural spaces in which to be safely and authentically female, although I didn't identify it as that at the time. I ended up in The Lord of the Rings Online, chiefly. And while LotRO is still my preferred game in many ways and for many reasons, one thing that I never liked about it was its singular worldview. This is, to be fair, in keeping with the original source material. But I've always been fascinated by what true evil really looks like. At some point, true evil has to eat. It also has to shit, and it probably needs to reproduce in some way. What does evil cooking look like? Are evil toilets oppressively smelly? Maybe they're oppressively clean, and nobody is allowed to use them. Is evil dating just two people standing each other up for a very long time before they meet up and rage fuck?

The fact is, true, absolute evil is not a thing, because even the most vile and evil person in the world has to do SOME things mundanely. They can do some things ABOUT that thing evilly (leaving the seat up after pissing all over it and on the floor, for example, or dining out and running up a $200 tab, not paying it, and leaving a penny for a tip), but the actual things themselves simply indicate life.

Playing as the "bad guys" in LotRO is a very limited experience. It's mostly Player-vs-Player (PvP), and what Player-vs-Environment (PvE) there is is extremely thin. Even there, it becomes apparent pretty quickly that even the developers don't know what a purely evil society looks like, because there is no way to actually fully conceive of such a thing. Quest-givers are consistently cruel to you in their speech, but that's kind of it. It's a very loose framework because it can't be fleshed out into anything substantial. It's a caricature because that's all it can be.

Nazi Germany was capital-E Evil in many ways. But it wasn't built by Satan, it was built by people, who were trying their best, and who made very poor social and cultural decisions based on wrong understandings about other people. Nazi Germany was an example of what happens when a group of people who are in power have a wrong understanding about a group of people who are not, and are left to act on that wrong understanding unchecked. Whether you are dealing with racism, or sexism, or transphobia, the fundamental construction is the same, because in both cases there are two groups, one with power, and one without, and they do not understand each other. If the power balance is nearly equal, that may, in the worst of cases, result in a war. If the power balance is grossly unequal, that may, in the worst of cases, result in a slaughter. And yet in every case, we are still just talking about people.

In WoW, there are two and only two major factions the player can choose from: Horde, or Alliance. They are engaged in an ongoing world-wide conflict that is invariably bloody. Digitally bloody. But since the player can play on either side, and, within either side, as any of a number of culturally distinct races who don't always get along, there is a larger message that is revealed when the game is played from these many different perspectives: there are no good guys and bad guys; there are only people you understand more, and people you understand less, or not at all. No one is evil or inherently wrong because of who they are. They're just not as apparently you. This point was underscored with the release of an expansion that included a race that starts out neutral, and then, individually, is made to pick a side (usually).

Part of realizing that I was trans was very carefully examining gender as construct. But, I'm very binary trans; I know myself as entirely female, and not male at all. There are a lot of things to do with masculinity that I understand intellectually, but can't actually quite get my head around. And if I understand myself as necessarily one-and-not-the-other, that's fine. In my own particular case, as a binary-oriented trans woman, I am woman, so therefore I am also not-man.

But in the course of my research, I learned about non-binary genders, which led me to conclude that in viewing gender as binary, capital-W We have misunderstood "common" to mean "fundamental" or "correct." Or maybe even "real." So, intellectually, I understand that perceiving gender as spectral or continuous is more accurate than perceiving it as 0 or 1. But instinctively (probably due to internalized culture), I have a lot of trouble wrapping my head around it. I constantly catch myself struggling with the ingrained tendency to automatically assign gender to others. If someone says to me, "I'm trans, my pronouns are she, her, hers," I may slip now and then, but I correct myself and move on, because moving someone to the other side of a construct I still intuitively understand as either/or is not that hard. If someone says to me, "I'm non-binary, my pronouns are they, them, theirs," I can get it right about 40% of the time.

So ultimately, I understand that the structures I believe are real based on not having known anything else for the vast majority of my life are not actually real. But I also understand how real they seem, which is why I strive to respond and not react when I am misgendered. I start from the position of assuming that they did not intend to slight me. Even if it turns out they did intend to slight me, I work to remain empathic and not become angry or frustrated. I remind myself that they literally do not understand.

They do not understand that my reality is not their reality, and that beyond each individual person's reality, there exists Actual Reality, where very few people will ever spend much time. I understand "subjective reality" as not a reality at all, but the lens through which we interpret Actual Reality. I understand that what anyone would call "my reality" is an illusion, and that the same is true for every last one of us.

I have these flashes of brilliance where I can see myself through the eyes of someone who hates me, and I understand completely why they do. I understand that they are not attacking me, because they do not actually see me at all. They see what they think I am. And I pity them. Not in a condescending way, but in a compassionate way. I can't hate them. They are me.

Actual Reality is not self because there is no self.

I noticed recently that the more inward my focus shifts, the easier it is for me to feel personally attacked or slighted. As my view becomes more and more narrowly about just me, I become less and less content. Conversely, as I take a wider view, I become more and more content. This is probably most easily illustrated in traffic. When I'm focused on how I have to get somewhere by some time, all of the people around me cease to be people, and become obstacles in my path. It's easy to get angry and frustrated. When I change that narrative perspective from My Story to Our Story, I feel a transcendent sense of peace and contentment. We are all the same, We are all on our way to change the world in whatever ways We can. We are all on our way to make something better, insofar as any of us can understand what "better" is or looks like. We are all in this moment together. And to the extent that a sense of "I" remains, it is so that I can contribute positive thoughts and wishes for every other "I" around me.

I try to let everyone in when I see them signaling. I think about how scary it can sometimes be to try to get over when I realize I'm about to miss my exit, or whatever. I wave people in, I let people make left turns across my lane in front of me if I can. At the more difficult turns, I will often see surprise and then gratitude on the face of the driver I've just helped. They'll smile, with real happiness. Not just the little courtesy wave we all sometimes see. And I feel more connected to everyone, realizing that there is every possibility that that one unexpectedly very positive interaction we had will brighten not just my day and that person's day, but the days of everyone we each go on to touch in any way. And the days of all the people those people go on to touch in any way.

We can spread joy and belonging and inclusion, or we can spread anger and isolation and exclusion. It's not beyond us to make those choices. Sometimes we will fail. I still do, all the time. But we can still keep trying, if we remember that it doesn't stop mattering just because we're having a bad day.

I returned to WoW for a number of reasons.

One, I accepted that my reason for leaving (and in such self-righteous, dramatic fashion) was silly.

Two, I could appreciate where Blizzard was coming from, even while I continue to disagree with their conclusion.

Three, #girlfriend plays, and I wanted to play with her. So we spend some of our free time running around as Goblins, whom we've decided are, predictably, a lesbian couple. When one of us wants to play, she will ask the other, "do you want Gayblins?" And we smile and enjoy the World and its stories together, having more fun than either could alone.

A photo posted by Seranine Elliot (@aggressivefrontpocket) on

Four, I appreciate the game as a large-scale metaphor for the fallacy of the idea of Being on the Right Side of a conflict.

In my own spare time, I play alone if I'm in the mood for it. I don't have the compulsion to play for 14 straight hours or anything, like I used to. I play until I'm not enjoying it anymore, and when I'm alone, that's usually not more than about an hour in one sitting, probably once or twice a week. And while I still make female characters named Seranine, there is now a Seranine whose life I am much more invested in living.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go kill a bunch of dirty, stupid trolls. Because tonight, I'm not playing my troll.