Sticks And Stones

In the last couple of weeks I’ve been insulted online by a stranger, had my gender status thrown in my face, my possible sex discussed within earshot on the bus and been accosted in the street by a septuagenarian alcoholic. These are just part of the daily life of a transsexual. All of these had two things in common though. Attacks on my gender I can deal with. If that’s all you’ve got I can cope. I’m resilient enough to shake words off like raindrops. But the second thing is far scarier to me. On each occasion, the surge of hormonal anger I felt pushed me towards actual violence. That I cannot cope with. I didn’t lash out physically but I wanted to. Badly. In a “Let’s Get Medieval On Your Ass” way. And now I’m concerned that at some point I just might not have the self control to walk away. Hormones are a steep learning curve for definite. But even with the downside I’ve just discovered, my life is still better than it ever was. I’ll take the positive in that. And for those who still choose to see me as a man? I’m luckily still the kind of man who chooses to turn the other cheek. Take your pick from left or right posterior.

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