I could swear that the last days it has not only been easier for me to connect with God, but simultaneously my mood has been all over the place. I told someone I’m depressed today. But maybe tomorrow I’ll feel different — maybe in the afternoon I’ll find myself staring at the clouds again, like yesterday, something I haven’t done in such a long time. My friend says it’s the progesterone working it’s magic. Sadly, and luckily, it’ll mellow out in about a month. Let’s talk about the trans girl juice.
CN: Transfeindlichkeit, Biologismus, Erwähnung von Nadeln, Beschreibung von Nadeln, medizinische Diskriminierung, medizinische Behandlungen, Injektionen, Erwähung von Suizidalität
Let me back-track a bit.
I was with Esra, my baby, at the endocrinologist ; I had asked the medical office to see a different doctor after having been very disappointed with the doctor I had previously been seeing. I didn’t felt seen, heard, or respected. A few months ago, via email, they told me I could see a different doctor. Upon arrival I realized they had either lied to me, or made a mistake. And so I was back with the doctor who refers to me as a “biological man.”
I already knew that I wouldn’t get anything out of this appointment, and please let me spare you the details — what’s the point of re-traumatizing myself by writing out the experience? I left crying, after she, once again, called me a “biological man” in front of my baby, and said that “it’s horrible how the trans community spreads propaganda that injections are a safe way of taking hormones.”
trans healthcare (or not)
I’ve been wanting to inject myself with hormones since the beginning of my transition, but, if you know anything about trans healthcare in Europe, you’d know that there are very few options for trans women. I get jealous of the girls in the US, even South America, and Australia. There are just so many more options, including a pellet, injected into your butt which only has to be replaced every 6 months. The options here weren’t working out for me. I had mentioned to my doctor that there is an injectable medication sold in Europe called “Neofollin,” which is Estradiol Valerate, but it would have to be imported from the Czech Republic. She refused to prescribe it to me.
You see, I understand why doctors don’t want to treat trans women properly. I don’t want to understand it, but I really do. They don’t view us as women, nor do they view us humans with feelings, a nervous system, and a body and brain that only we can comprehend. They have their image of us as delusional men, dressing up and playing pretend. As my body of knowledge of trans medicine has grown, I’ve come to understand one thing: there is not enough research to come to any conclusions on HRT for trans women. All of the suggested doses by “experts” are based on research of HRT on cis women and cis men.
trans people deserve health care!
This is insane! I’m not surprised, but I am deeply saddened by the lack of trans health care in Germany, and greater Europe. Many cis people believe that HRT is dangerous, I mean, we’ve all heard that haven’t we? Proceed with caution? (Why didn’t anyone tell me to proceed with caution when getting a tattoo from a stranger?) The truth is, there is maybe only one doctor in Berlin who is sufficient in treating trans folks. I’m not exaggerating, and if you think I am, I suggest you talk to those in the trans community about how they feel in regards to trans medicine.
trans girl juice
So that brings me to the climactic moment last week, Luise, my wife sticking the needle into my ass. I remember the preparation, how nervous I was, cracking open that vial..
We cracked open the glass vial and carefully withdrew the girl juice into the thicker needle. I asked Luise if the vial was empty. How can we know if it’s empty? It’s a dark vial. She accidentally spilled the last drop on the couch. I replaced the needle with a thinner one. I rubbed disinfectant on the area, and learned that I was doing it wrong. “Do it in a circular motions, always making a bigger circle as to not spread more bacteria around the area.” Oh, the perks of being married to a pediatrician.
We stood in front of the mirror and I made Luise promise to count to three. She did, and I didn’t feel a thing. Nothing.
I guess a 26 gauge needle is much thinner than the needles I was used to for having blood drawn.
The climax was over. I didn’t really feel anything. But I had done it, with my wife! How many people have this privilege and love in their relationship?
The next day I felt very clear headed, but I knew this was only the beginning of my journey.
Luckily, I have an appointment with the good doctor here in Berlin, who will actually listen to me and take my concerns seriously, monitor my blood, and adjust my dosages.
The wildest thing that has happened since transitioning, besides growing tits of course, is that I feel like most people take me less seriously. To now go through the world in a way where my body is perceived differently than I’m used to is affirming and disorienting. We are frequently pushed to our limits as trans women, told that we need to try harder to pass, while simultaneously being told we are appropriating womanhood. HRT is not seen as a right in Germany, it is seen as something for doctors to control, to give us the lowest doses possible, when higher doses can in many cases make us feel much better. The other day a woman was staring at me as I washed my hands in the women room. Staring. For like, an inappropriate amount of time. I left before she had the chance to say something.
I used to be suicidal before transition. Used to have no hope for the future. I used to not want to live. And transition has gotten rid of that. Even if I am sad at the moment, I can still dream of the future, and imagine a future with me in it. This is something that when I tell my fiends they get very emotional, and it’s hard for me. I know that I am brave for going on this journey, all trans people are. But it just sucks so much that we are left to just our community to figure things out on our own.
What can we do? The only solution I have is for doctors to get their egos out of the way and start listening to trans folks. No one knows our bodies better than us. But I don’ tsee that happening anytime soon, especially not as long as we are seen as “biological men,” and “biological women.”
So I’m trying my best to relax and count my blessings. At least I have access to health care, even if I have to take care of the hormones by myself. I thought of Nomi in that Sense 8 scene, with a needle in her ass. When I saw that scene, I thought to myself, “I wanna be her. Badass bitch sticking estrogen in her ass.”
And I wait for God to arrive, and I feel her presence in my heart, my soul, my brain. But I also feel the presence of fear when I leave my apartment. I see the stares, people desperately trying to determine what I am, men retracting smiles once they realize I’m trans.. Maybe these injections are a spiritual act, and I’m not going to lie, it’s really hard for me to love every aspect of being trans. Though I am feeling better, more aligned with my mind and body, I am also tired. I wonder what it will feel like years from now, when perhaps, the world doesn’t see me as trans. Will I still be trans then?
I ask the questions that may seem meaningless on the surface as I scavenge through my days searching for meaning. I’m rearranging everything. My entire life. Entire identity. My career. Sense of being. My spirituality. My relationships. I’m falling through a dark hole into an entirely new universe (falling isn’t the best metaphor, it’s more like, crawling through mud), being reborn. And finally I start to feel like myself, whoever that is. So I plan on sticking that needle in my ass for as long as I have to. If it keeps me from killing myself, why wouldn’t I?