2

“The Song of Adala.” (Doctor Who fanfic)

Yet another new Doctor Who fanfic, part 2 in my Movellan War series … imminently to be rendered obsolete as the BBC’s series 10 trailer has hinted they finally intend to fill that plot hole themselves. Since they started it in 1979 and have barely referred to it since, I really didn’t see that coming, but that being the case I think this may well be the last instalment.

Also, since my own original writing is finally starting to go places … Hopefully more solid news on that later. Fanfic has been a enjoyable diversion, at any rate, but best not to let it take over, as the BBC seem no closer to headhunting me than they ever did (as if).

Incidentally, this is also my first fictional work featuring a transgender character, filling the role of the Doctor’s designated companion.

songadalacover

SYNOPSIS

On the Galactic Rim, in the 51st century, The Daleks and Movellans vie for control of a strange, remote planet where human society has lapsed into feudalism and religious fanaticism, while the Doctor tries to sabotage both their efforts. Tamril, a young native of the planet, meanwhile finds his loyalties and his belief system pulled every which way. Soon, however, they are all forced into uneasy alliances when it becomes apparent that the superstitions of the locals are neither as baseless nor as primitive as they had supposed …

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22

Jumping Hoops – A Rant on the Welsh NHS

Today, as I learn that my legal caseworker is leaving her job and my MP can’t be of any help in local health issues, I am far from being in the best frame of mind…

Let’s quickly recap… Early last year, my husband and I went to our GP to finally pursue gender reassignment, as is our right under NHS protocols. However, the NHS in Wales is more restrictive than its English counterpart, as the GP correctly informed us, and accordingly set up the various hoops that we would need to jump through to receive treatment. These were…

Referral to the community mental health team for assessment.

Referral from the CMHT back to the GP.

Application to the “gatekeepers” (nothing to do with Ghostbusters) for funding.

Once funding obtained, referral to the West London Mental Health Gender Identity Clinic – the only one available to Welsh NHS patients.

A year’s waiting from said referral to our appointment times.

First GIC appointment.

…and that is as far as we have got, at present. However, our first appointments did go very well, and as far as London goes we have no complaints. The clinicians we saw were sympathetic and eager to help, and in my case even provided me with a prescription for HRT to be handed to my GP. Hormone therapy is, of course, an essential first stage of transition, and one that patients in England (and even some Welsh health boards) can obtain even before their first appointments, to dissuade them from self-medicating on internet-bought hormones… which I have been doing for over a year now. My GP, unfortunately, said that they could only help with authorisation from London, so you can imagine how pleased I was to finally obtain some.

Having imagined that, you can now imagine how displeased and shocked I was when my GP practice – a Cardiff Bay-based clinic that had been recommended to me as trans-friendly – still refused treatment. Their latest justification is that there are proposed changes to the Welsh gender identity care pathway, and they want those implemented before taking the responsibility. They assured me it would not take long.

About a week ago I went to a trans information meeting hosted by a local NHS official, who spoke on these proposals and told me they may take up to three years to implement… though she did also tell me – as one might expect – that my GP is making pathetic excuses, and has a responsibility to treat their current patients according to the existing gender care provisions. Also, much to my surprise, she informed me that our GP had lied when they claimed there was no provision for speech therapy under the Welsh system – though both Cal and I had expressed a great interest in it.

She even told me she would be in touch to help me challenge this state of affairs… but unfortunately was not. I have since told my caseworker and my MP – to the sad lack of effect stated above – and contacted my Welsh Assembly Member, but have heard nothing back. That leaves me, at present, at a bit of an impasse, where all I can think to do for now is express my dismay and disgust that things have had to come to this. Unless the local health authorities will support Cal and I in our transition, there is nothing much London can do all by itself (monitored HRT being, as far as I know, still being a prerequisite for surgery, and Cal not being able to self-medicate in any case – testosterone being far too dangerous to take without professional help).

Our worst fear, though, is that they are playing for time, hoping that if they can stall us for long enough then inevitable NHS cuts will impact on the whole gender care service and they will simply be able to deny us care and get us off their monthly budget for good. Paranoid of us? Possibly, but that practice hasn’t exactly been enthusiastic or sensitive in helping us. I recall asking them if they could prescribe Vaniqa hair reduction cream just after my GIC referral… only to be answered with a blunt “we can’t give that to men.”

Though, to be fair, one doctor down that practice has been sympathetic to us both, though the last thing he said to me was “the squeaky wheel is the one that gets oiled.” Cryptic at the time, but in retrospect we both think he was giving us broad hints that the system is not our friend, and we will have to fight tooth and nail if we want to see this through. Not something I excel in, but I guess it can’t hurt to learn.

If anyone has any suggestions for our next manoeuvre in this battle, please pass them along. I could use some fresh perspectives after today’s disillusionments.

15

Fighting Back

orlando

Cal returned from the GIC last Tuesday, and the news was all good: like me, he has been granted a second appointment in February, at which point all going well he will be approved for HRT. The clinician seemed absolutely charmed with him (only naturally), and they had a good conversation. The fact that we both have had such positive experiences with the London side of things is certainly something to be very grateful for. It touched upon a subject of grave concern to us both right now, though: the UK’s impending referendum on whether to remain within or leave the European Union. The clinician was pessimistic, and when we consider the implications of leaving (which now seems the likely outcome) it is hard to feel too blithe about our future. For one thing, if it throws the UK back into recession, the NHS will suffer more cutbacks, so our transitions could be stopped by simple market forces. For another, it is liable to make the UK more isolated and right-wing, which rarely goes well for LGBT+ people (no more than one might expect of a Trump presidency…). Even if neither of those scenarios develop, we are bound to be affected as Cal is French, and will thus have to change nationality (at high expense) or risk losing his job, his right to stay without a visa, and his rights to NHS treatment. If Cal has to leave the UK to transition, I will of course leave with him, which will thus stop or at least hugely delay my own transition. Thus, if you are one of my Brexit-supporting work colleagues and you wonder why I am less than friendly with you these days, you can probably work out why now…

Furthermore, though, it has been next to impossible for anyone in the LGBT+ community to be particularly happy and easygoing this week, in the wake of the Orlando massacre. Cal and I attended a memorial vigil in Cardiff Bay (image above) and were moved to see so many of us and so many allies come out in support and recognition. The priest at my very LGBT-friendly church also gave a sermon and prayers on the shooting (acknowledging that it was an anti-LGBT hate crime, unlike a certain prelate). Still, it is hard to get away from the sense that the world is still not exactly on our side, whatever the mansplaining, cisplaining voices at work would have me believe: “Of course it won’t make any difference to you if we leave the EU. You people have full rights now. We’re a tolerant society.” And so forth, while I bite my tongue.

Cal thinks we may have spent too long biting our tongues, and now is the time to speak out, fight back, and be uncompromisingly courageous and visible. He has determined to make this year his first Pride appearance, and thus our first Pride as a couple. We have also initiated complaints proceedings against our GP, whose non-response to our progress at the GIC continues to infuriate us. Such combative behaviour does not come naturally to either of us, but it helps to remember that we have, in such a short time, gained many friends within our community who are also affected by these issues. God willing, this will be the year when we cease to be the timid little trans couple living almost like recluses for fear of offending, and not before time. Perhaps the world could use a little offending…

keepkissing

14

GIC – First Assessment

Apologies for the delay, but things haven’t stopped moving since I returned from London last Friday. As for the reason I was there at all… well, it certainly took a long time (albeit 11 months rather than the dreaded 13) and there were plenty of times I dreaded it wouldn’t happen at all, or would be cancelled and rescheduled time and time again, but in the end it all went to plan.

The Gender Identity Clinic was well hidden away in an unassuming part of west London, and I shall respect their secrecy and be no more specific. Suffice it to say it was over a shop, the purpose of the building was unstated, and that one had to be rung in via a door intercom. It may well be that they fear the potential of harassment to their patients, although as I had lunch nearby and saw various transpeople exit and enter the building, it occurred to me that some locals had surely noticed over the years. Nevertheless, I had no trouble in the area. I never tend to experience transphobia in London, would that it was not so expensive to live there.

I made sure to travel very early, just in case there were any transport delays and also in case I had not correctly estimated the time to reach the clinic, but in the end had about a two-hour wait. I had a meal, a quick walk, and pestered the hubby on the phone, which whiled the time away and kept my morale up until I actually pressed that door buzzer. Then, I had another 45-minute wait within the clinic itself, along with various other nervous-looking transwomen, as they were running late. I began to have a paranoid fear that someone would only come at me with an apology that the clinician was for some reason unavailable and I would need to reschedule, when thankfully the gentleman himself emerged from an office and invited me in. I smiled, took a deep breath, and followed.

The meeting lasted a further 45 minutes and covered all expected bases, repeating much of what I had been asked during the community mental health assessment in Cardiff last year: how long had I known, was I inclined to suicide or self-harm, how was puberty for me, medical history, work and social circumstances, etc. The clinician acknowledged that much of this would be repetition, owing to that extra hurdle one is expected to pass within the Welsh NHS. I was rather pleased he did not seem to consider this fair.

His final assessment, at any rate, was the most morale-building experience I have had in ages: I seemed, evidently, to be a totally straightforward case, and he had no issues in referring me onwards to discuss surgery, and also in writing to my GP to, at last, authorise HRT and get me off my self-medication. This latter habit of mine, which I had been warned could stand in my way, thankfully did not become an issue. He acknowledged it was not the best thing one could do, but also one that many people and especially those in the Welsh NHS turned to for lack of GP support, and I had at least attempted to do so in an informed way (A general hint I might give, to anyone considering that option, is always to seek as much information within one’s community and support groups as possible).

He also said, to my immense gratitude, that in his opinion I had successfully completed my social transition. While I can imagine a few gender-critical feminists balking at the notion of a male clinician supplying that seal of approval, at all events hearing it from him was reassuring, as it always is when I meet someone who only sees me as Eleanor. There are days when feel I could happily enact my transition 1970s-style, tear up all roots, move among strangers, and start life afresh… only the hubby still loves Cardiff. Well, I could probably do most of that that here. It’s a big city, though a new job will still be essential, hopefully sooner rather than later.

So, my next step is to visit my GP today bearing the clinician’s written authorisation, which will hopefully soon have me started on the first true stage of my medical transition (Anti-androgen injections, and continuation of my regular estradiol doses, but medically supervised). As for surgery… my second assessment will be in February. Another test of patience, but at least now I know I am on track, I no longer have anything to prove, and I can, in a way I did not quite feel free to before, finally embrace the fact of being a woman, being myself, instead of being cursed with that nagging sense of anxiety, that fear of being disbelieved, deemed as delusional or perverted, and told for my own sake I should backtrack and reconsider my options.

There is no going back now, and I could not be more delighted.


P.S. Thank you to all my followers here who have supported me through this. Your encouragement has done a great deal to keep me on track, and I only hope I have managed to be a little entertaining for my part. xxx

8

One Lovely Blog Award.

03-one-lovely-blog-award-badge

Not sure what I did to earn this, but the wonderful A Kinder Way has yet again nominated me for a blogging award, and who am I to contradict? The rules for this one are very simple…

  1. Thank the person that nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  2. List the rules.
  3. Display the award on your post.
  4. List seven facts about yourself.
  5. Nominate (up to) 15 bloggers for this award and comment on one of their posts to let them know you have nominated them.

Nominations to follow my factoids, though I stress there is no pressure on anyone I name. I’d happily award you all in exchange for no intimate information whatsoever if I was the one setting the rules…

My 7 Facts…

  1. I hated school. With a passion. And a burning vindictive hatred to demolish the rotten place a la Bart Simpson. Being trans did not help, clearly (although I wasn’t “out” – just obviously effeminate, which was good enough for the bullies). Mainly, though, it was just for being the highest concentration of petty-minded little jobsworths and sadists I have ever had the displeasure of spending several years in the company of. And it does not seem to have materially improved my job prospects.
  2. I loved university, though. I would go back there in a flash. Sadly I can’t, as that place did not improve my job prospects either…
  3. In my former identity I used to make little games for the C64 8-bit computer. One of them, like so much of my fiction, had quite a lot of loosely-disguised transness in it, including a spell that transformed a squad of orc archers into a harmless swarm of fairies (not that orc gender or lack of has ever been definitively established). No-one noticed those touches, though, as the game itself was just too difficult and annoying for frustrated players to pay any attention to my encoded trauma. The moral? Always playtest thoroughly.
    magess_of_midgard_03
  4. I love to cook, and I often cook very spicy food. I am informed it can be quite painful to be within breathing distance of one of my meals… I hate eating processed food, and have had so little of them for so long that small amounts now give me painful cramps.
  5. I met my husband at the wake of someone neither of us even knew. I can’t even remember why I was there in the first place (Possibly I was invited as moral support).
  6. He then asked me out on social media, but did not post an avatar. Since we were both painfully shy, I completely failed to locate him at the chosen venue, and ended up leaving in confusion.
  7. Thankfully, a mutual friend then basically pushed us at each other and forced us to start talking, and there has been no looking back since. ❤ ❤ ❤

Nominations (love you all)…

Ambivalence Girl

Aoife Eschatology

The Catholic Transgender

Daniella’s Ramblings

Don’t Make Me Choose

Fairy JerBear

Kira Moore’s Closet

La Quemada

My World and Welcome to it

Neopythia

Queering the Nerd

Raising Orlando

The Therapy Relationship

Tish

Translucidity

15

Shell

oldshell

“Let us be clear: there is no such thing as “sex-reassignment” surgery. A mutilated male pumped full of estrogen remains just that—a mutilated male pumped full of estrogen. He has not “transitioned” into being a woman. He can never be a woman.”

(Margaret A. Hagen, Transgenderism Has No Basis in Science or Law)

“At the heart of the problem is confusion over the nature of the transgendered. “Sex change” is biologically impossible. People who undergo sex-reassignment surgery do not change from men to women or vice versa. Rather, they become feminized men or masculinized women. Claiming that this is civil-rights matter and encouraging surgical intervention is in reality to collaborate with and promote a mental disorder.”

(Dr. Paul McHugh, Transgender Surgery Isn’t the Solution)

“What the fuck is that?”

(Question asked by passer-by about twenty minutes ago)

“You’ve changed, like coming out of a shell. You’re not guarded all the time. You interact with people, you smile more, you’re easier to get along with.”

(Some observations made by my work area manager last weekend)

I have listened to so many arguments, and I have taken good note even of the ones that do not please me at all: of the undeniable limitations of medical transition, of the drastic and never-ending treatments I will face, and of the politically problematic message that perhaps underlies gender reassignment. Morally, I struggle to defend my decision to go from being a gender non-conforming male to a gender-conforming transwoman: it is scarcely revolutionary of me by any measure, and it arguably reinforces the very binary that keeps women (and transwomen) oppressed. I know I do not pass, and I probably never will given my height and bone structure, thus in spite of my conformist wishes I shall likely always be a figure of curiosity (or of scorn, as above). Not to mention that my decision to create within myself a lifelong dependency on synthetic hormones is practically doing a favour to “Big Pharma,” whereas loving my natural body (as I have been advised to try harder at) would be the far more ecological and left-wing thing to do. On many levels, I often feel I have failed. Not as a man, as I never wanted to succeed on that level on the first place, but as a feminist / ally, as a socialist, as a nonconforming artist… even, ironically, as a transgender person / ally, as my obsessive (yet always critical) dedication to this medical transition route  arguably fits me for the category of “Truscum.”

My transition is a surrender, I would not deny. But taking off my armour and letting my guard down has felt too liberating that I am in no frame of mind to take up the fight again. Also, whatever I am becoming – whether a pseudo-woman, an ersatz woman, or not a woman at all but just a “feminized,” “mutilated” facsimile – apparently I am becoming a better (or at least a more agreeable) person for it, and this has to count for something.

29

A Year of Existence

It was on the 8th of January 2015 that I began this blog, following the advice of my friend Jason, with no very clear idea but plenty of trepidation as to what might come out of it. Now seems as good a time as any to take stock of what I have learned and gained…

1. THE BLOG ITSELF

The Good – After a quiet start, interest and sympathy started to flow in, and rarely let up pace, from trans bloggers, from those in relationships with trans people, from non-binary activists, to supportive people in general. Particularly honourable mentions go to…

Ambivalence Girl

Anna Secret-Poet

Ariadne

Charissa Grace

Curiouser and Curiouser

Daniella Argento

Fairy Jerbear

Georgia Kevin

A Kinder Way

Kira Moore

Kit

La Quemada

Plain T

Tish Wolfsong

…among many other generous and uplifting voices who have encouraged me to keep this extended muse / rant as a going concern. My profuse thanks and love to you all. xxx

The Bad – Thankfully, little negativity has drifted this way, at least proportionally. Some critical feedback was drawn from Radical Feminists (a bit more on that later), and some downright hostile feedback from an older transperson who thought (and still thinks) me a charlatan, but not to name any names. The positives have vastly outweighed the negatives, and overall, the blog was a sound move that has helped me to keep a sense of purpose and progress, as I had dared hope that it might.

2. MEDICAL TRANSITION / THE NHS

The Good – Initially, this went unexpectedly well. It was with great fear that I came out to a new GP in January, and they proved incredibly sympathetic, totally helpful, validating of my new identity, and not at all judgemental. Although they did warn me I would need patience…

In February, I saw a local psychiatrist with a view of obtaining a gender clinic referral. This too went not only smoothly but pleasantly, with no hostile questioning, no attempts to sow doubt, and complete consideration shown to my (by then) firmly established transgender identity. The referral was quickly processed, and I was (fairly) promptly informed that I was on the waiting list for the gender clinic.

The Bad – Progress for the past few months, alas, has been non-existent. This was expected. Worse, however, since the referral my permanent GP  (sadly, not the one I initially saw) has declined to help me at all. I have, like the majority of transwomen-in-waiting, ended up self-medicating with internet-bought hormones and androgen blockers. This is not supposed to happen, but the interim NHS guidelines for Gender Dysphoria, like the Pirates’ Code, are all too rarely followed, and I may be doing this for months (or years, even) to come.

legopiratequeen

Disturbingly, I am in spite of this doing better than my husband Cal, who applied around the same time as me and still has yet to hear news of his referral. Also, we have by now encountered insensitivity from some GPs, and according to information Cal obtained from the gender clinic (which ran an informal workshop), many of the profession still do not see gender dysphoria as a genuine medical issue. Thankfully, the medical status of GD is still official NHS policy, but until we actually have our diagnoses we will continue, I fear, to fret over the outcome, and the possibility of policy changes that could leave us with no option at all.

3. FEMINISM

The Good – I had a suspicion right from the beginning, even before I had any experience in the murky world of online transpolitics, that feminists might look askance at transpeople, though I had no idea back then of the whole Liberal / Radical divide. For someone who began the year with little academic knowledge of Feminism, I have learned a lot in the course of understanding this debate, but apologies if I err in the following…

At a very basic level, and as I understand it, Liberal Feminism (such as espoused very early in Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Woman, 1792) holds the view that sexism in society arises from custom, tradition, and ignorance rather than by preconceived malice, and can thus be effectively fought through the reform of existing structures. Radical Feminism (such as pioneered by Second-Wave feminists like Andrea Dworkin in Woman Hating, 1974) by contrast holds that gender and patriarchy are deliberate tools of oppression, constructed with the full, misogynistic intention of keeping women as second-class citizens and an exploitable resource, and can thus only be effectively fought by the complete overhaul of the existing, corrupt social order.

Given that Radical Feminism posits an intentional campaign of hatred and control with the oppressor / oppressed rigidly delineated by biology (specifically, males conspiring to control and exploit females as unpaid labour, sexual slavery, and breeding stock), it naturally has very little scope to accommodate not only transwomen but any queer gender identities, finding them irrelevant at best, or at worst a malicious attempt by men to impinge on what rights and spaces women have obtained. This notwithstanding, there is no monolithic Radfem community or party line, and I have met those who tentatively accept transwomen as women, albeit with the (perfectly logical) caveat that they are not biologically female, even post-transition, and should be respectful that Radfem issues will often be specific to natal women. There are some transwomen even active and generally welcome within this community, although they qualify themselves as “allies” rather than as feminists per se.

Regarding the two schools of Feminism, I am still very much a learner. I have been fortunate enough to make friends in both quarters. However…

The Bad – I have, alas, read some strikingly inept journalism from trans Libfems including inappropriate comparisons between deficient trans rights and deliberate human rights atrocities, ironic attempts to shame confused allies for not being quite sensitive enough (in the journalist’s view), and accusations of really quite moderate, even reconciliationist feminists as “TERFs” (such as Helen Lewis and Penny White). This makes me hugely sceptical of the value of lending my weight, such as it is, to trans Liberal Feminism (or Liberal Transfeminism).

However, whilst there is no particular value in harping on with the “TERF” line (it is construed as an insult, and for me to disrespect anyone else’s chosen or rejected identification seems too ironic), I would strongly advise any transwoman to be very wary of most Radfem circles, even if invited to comment. If you do, expect hostility sooner or later, and do not expect to sway any perceptions or allay any scepticism, even if your intention is allyship. For everyone who appreciates such gestures of support, there will be others who construe them as patronising or hypocritical. I have had to watch two dear friends in the course of this year being slandered and grotesquely insulted in Radfem social media circles, one of whom was broadly sympathetic (at first) and one of whom was actually a long-standing ally (but has since disavowed that role). The hatred is there, make no mistake. As one of the commenters on the previously linked article by Penny White (who, incidentally, has always been very kind to me on Twitter) felt the need to put it…

“You should be listening to what WOMEN say, and not cowardly men who would rather claim womanhood and redefine the language we use for ourselves rather than break away from the patriarchal system they benefit from and embrace their gender non-conformity AS MEN. Trans “women” are not women, they are not female, they are not her or she, they are gender non-conforming men, and if they were brave enough to face that fact, they might actually be strong allies. Instead they’re men who reinforce harmful gender stereotypes, that help maintain the patriarchal oppression of women.”

Not for me to state my own courage, or lack of… but suffice it to say that this view is representative enough. Engage with these politics at your peril.

4. FAMILY

The Good – Our respective families, with understandable concern, have been quick to offer their support, and given that many transpeople face rejection, this is something to be hugely grateful for. Also, I feel easier in my conscience now, as the weight of my dishonesty all of these years is finally lifted, and has not been held against me. Cal’s family have also accepted me as their daughter-in-law, which is a tremendous relief. Any fears we might have had of being isolated as a couple, with only ourselves to rely upon, have been beautifully dispelled.

The Bad – Sadly, the timing of our coming-out did prove embarrassing enough that we were required to attend a family wedding as our old selves, in order to avoid a scene. Hashtag awkward… Thankfully, it is understood that this will not be happening again, whatever the occasion.

5. ODDS AND ENDS…

The Good – Rediscovering modelling was a joy this year, and one that helped me to raise my public confidence. The main project has been a short film (which is finally in post-production) called “Imago,” and when it eventually became necessary for me to do a shoot in “boy mode,” I felt so awkward and unnatural that it was wholly unnecessary to act up my melancholy for the scene… I am very pleased with the results, at least, so we shan’t be needing to revisit that concept. I also had studio and location shoots to rebuild my portfolio (having junked all of my male-model shots), and have shamelessly ripped off the most iconic trans editorial shot of 2015 (and probably of ever). Take a wild guess whose…

_MG_2630

…although I wanted to Goth it up a whole lot more. The photographer (Alan) talked me out of that, his philosophy of plagiarism being to do it as faithfully as one can.

Coming out in work was unexpectedly easy. The Royal Mail policy has proven cast-iron to the extent that I have even been included on a women’s workplace development program. There has been no outspoken discrimination since (although I gather some unkind gossip).

Administrative changes proved easier than I dared to anticipate. I have now amended my NHS details, my bank details, changed my name by deed poll, changed my PhD certificate, and best of all obtained a new passport marked with an “F” in the gender box. I feel this part of transition is, to all practical intents and purposes, completed.

Also surprisingly, my church participation increased a lot this year with extremely positive outcomes, including my invitation to speak on being a trans Christian at Pride Cymru 2015 (at around the 13:50 mark for anyone wishing to hear my weird voice again…).

The Bad – Chavs making abusive comments on the street, white van men doing the same, misogynistic creeps messaging me on Facebook, elderly gentleman insisting on knowing my old name prior to lecturing me on why I am an ungodly rebel, the person who started the “dirty freak eleanor antony burns” Facebook group… oh, and electrolysis really hurts and I have many months of it to look forward to.

REGRETS

None.

Thank you for helping me through a tumultuous but overall wonderful year. xxx