It’s just that I don’t see myself as, or feel like a man independently of my female past. I had to be female to be male. And my present maleness accentuates, rather than hides, the female . . .at least according to my inner eye.
Anytime I ever tried to cut one part off, the other part would suffer. Not that I have a discernible male part and a female part that complement each other. Rather, fe/male is intertwined within me. There is no way to cut male or female out and leave the rest because there would be no rest.
Living as male, as in physically presenting as a guy, makes me feel good. My body likes it and my brain likes it. I feel more balanced. But there is woman interfused within all that is male about me.
I look at my hands and they are fe/male hands.
I look at my face in the mirror – delicate laughing eyes with a dark history, soft skin, beard – and it is fe/male.
I look at my chest with the breasts and the hair and it is fe/male.
I look at my cunt and it is fe/male.
My drive comes from the female. My balance comes from the male. My power comes from the blend.
I choose to live as male for now and I like it because I sometimes go on stage as female, or fe/male.
But, who knows, maybe someday I will just go out into the world as fe/male . . . a fe/male who’s lived both lives.