most of a bitter fruit.

From a powerful post that talked about being a “sideshow” in the pursuit of sex, saying “if i turned men down for being married or having a GF,  i would never get laid,”  and discussing how partners wanted a penis, I called this the quote of the day on a list:

“In the meantime
i’ll take the sex
where i can
make the most
of a bitter fruit.”

The author thought I was mocking her, putting down her sexual choices, and wanted to make it clear that everything would change once she got genital reconstruction surgery.

Don’t assume, as they said on “The Odd Couple.”

I found your comments honest and raw, and that made them refreshing.

So much of trannydom is about denying our Eros, not about engaging it.

I affirm your choices, and the fresh way you speak them out loud.

I will note that know many transwomen who functioned as “she-males” in relationships and then found genital reconstruction challenging.  Some found that without their “something special” that they were just another woman, and competing with women born female was a challenge; they had neither the pedigee or the goods to play on that field.  Others realized this would happen and eventually chose to not get genital reconstruction so they still had “something special” for partners.

As for me, I don’t have any comment on what you are “supposed” to do; you need to find your own path to a full life, and for most people, that is deciding where to follow the rules and where to break them.

E-mail has no tone; it’s just text on a screen.

Please don’t assume people disapprove of you; you may find that they find honest and straightforward expression to be a gift.

Even when it’s about the price we pay to get what we need, what our heart craves, in such a heterosexist culture.

The author answered, saying sex with men was very “notch on the belt,” while women opened her heart.  She talked about having a chip on her shoulder that kept her safe, and how after she had surgery, she would be able to walk around a womens locker room without anxiety.

I replied:

You have the power to reshape your body in any way that satisfies you, in any way that expresses who you know yourself to be.

You should do what you feel called to do.

In my experience, though, there are limits to the power we have to female a body that went through puberty as a male.

Bones don’t lie, and a lost girlhood, those days of change and potency and bonding, can never really be recovered.

The challenge, of course, is not just how you see yourself but how others see you.

Will a reshaped pudenda be enough for you to let go of your anxieties and chips?

I’d love to believe that surgery is magical, powerfully changing the way others see us, but in my experience I haven’t seen that happen for most people.

After all, if people as beautiful as Candis Cayne can’t pass as female, even after feminizing surgery, many of us have much less chance.

Maybe the real transcendence of heterosexism is accepting that being a woman is about our choices and our knowledge, and not about the shape of our crotch.

Maybe the defect isn’t between our legs, but in the culture that affirms crotches over hearts.

Shape your body the way that makes you comfortable, yes.

But don’t invest genital reconstruction with too much magic; that can lead to disappointment.

Eros is potent, the desires we have inside, from the desire to be beautiful, to the desire to be affirmed, to the desire to connect with others.

Eros has to drive our choices, following desire.

But we are human, and Eros tempered with sensibility has often turned out to be the best course, balancing the fire of the heart with the ice of the mind.

In the end, I decided that humans are much more likely to make mistakes than God, and she has made people like me through all human history.

And in many cultures, people like me were valued and respected for our own unique gifts, rather than asked to try to fit in one box or another.

It’s the human created boxes I ended up seeing as creating anxiety and chips, not any God created defects.

But that’s just where I came out.

Blessings on your journey, wherever it takes you.

3 thoughts on “most of a bitter fruit.”

  1. “I decided that humans are much more likely to make mistakes than God.”

    This assumes it was a mistake.

    I simply assume it was enemy action, on bad days; and on good days, the unfortunate fall of dice.

    It is a bitter fruit, and calling it isn’t mocking the author, of course; but you knew she’d see it that way.

    You affirm choices, Callan. But do you think we’re pretty yet?

  2. Absolutely.

    But our prettiness is in direct proportion to our own satisfaction, mental health, self-ownership and comfort.

    Bitter, vindictive, angry, outward-blaming, victim-identified, defensive and cranky, well, they don’t look very well on anybody.

    We appear beautiful when we relax and let our own unique beauty show, when we own and feel secure in our own skin, having changed what we could, accepted what we cannot change, and found serenity in knowing we have done the work.

    Learning to get our fear & pain out of the way, so as not to block our own grace is one of the hardest things we can ever do.

    But, yeah, it seems the only chance to be pretty.

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