I’m a 37 year old FTM (female-to-male transsexual) living and working in Montreal. I’m also a pansexual, white, able-bodied franglophone Canadian. I’m a mom (yes, that’s right a mom), teacher, activist and performance artist. Working class background but often considered middle class because of my profession. Even though I don’t see myself as middle class (because I don’t share the budget or value system of the middle class, in general), this perception of me undoubtedly offers me social privilege.
Interests include, but are not limited to, parenting, autism awareness, anthropology, Native peoples and cultures, sexuality, BDSM, transgenderism, fishing, spirituality, role playing (take that anyway you wish), Zelda64, music (Iron Maiden = God), tattoos, public speaking and, obviously, writing. Oh, and sci fi. I reserve the right to be interested in things I haven’t mentioned here. Have I mentioned I have a high intellectual interest in sex?
My exploration of gender and sex over the past few years has largely been enabled by other transfolk who’ve shared their experiences of transitioning and their thoughts. I wish to continue this tradition for a few reasons. First, writing helps me sort through things. Second, I can get a little lazy even though I love to write so having a potential audience will help motivate me. Finally, I want to give back what I’ve been given so if my experiences and thoughts can help anyone else figure themselves out, great! Sometimes reading stuff we agree or disagree with helps us sort through our own stuff.
I *do* have other obsessions that I like to write about. Therefore, this blog contains various reflections, rants and commentary pieces that I have written over the years on other blogs, mailing lists, Facebook and so forth. It is a place for whatever happens to cross my mind at the time. Posts can range from humourous personal insights to socio-political ranting on issues ranging from parenthood, entertainment, spirituality, sexuality and anything else I feel like writing about. OK, OK . . .often it boils down to sex. What can I say? I have a high . . . intellectual interest in sex.
Another reason I chose to start a blog is that I love to write but can sometimes lack the motivation to start. Having people read what I write and react helps motivate me to get my thoughts out there. Responses, both written and verbal, that I received on pieces that I wrote as Facebook notes indicated that many people seem to enjoy reading my stuff and I do enjoy it when people leave comments and start discussion. Ultimately, that is my goal: to start discussion. I don’t take what I have to say as the ultimate truth on anything. They are MY truths and, as with everyone, subject to change. So please, leave comments. Be nice but express yourself. Don’t nitpick on grammar: this is a blog and I consider blogging to be the virtual equivalent of casual speech. I don’t proofread my blog entries like I do with academic texts. I like them to be spontaneous and organic. I also like to take artistic liberties with the English language, as I consider language to be fluid. More on this in a future posting but I often feel as though the invention of writing stifled the fluid and organic nature of language in favour of static rules that are not only arbitrary but heavily biased in favour of those who had social power at the time it was invented. Therefore, the English language is permeated with sexist language and a Western-style lineality that has limited use when it comes to the sharing of real ideas . . .you know, the ones that come from embodied experience and being human and not necessarily *just* from books.
So there you go . . . Grab a cold one, have a seat and tell me what you think.
About the header The river shown in the picture is very special to me. It runs through the hunting and trapping territory of the family of a friend of mine in northern Canada. When I was 25, I made the acquaintance of this river and felt like a whole person for the first time in my life. Before I left, I accidentally left a piece of my spirit there, in the river. When I returned at 34, I asked for it back. I immediately realised my mistake – I somehow knew that I needed to leave it there.
Looking at this river, even in a picture, still helps me feel complete.