The "born this way" narrative falls apart due to four (4) distinct failures
1. It is not actually an effective argument for dissuading homophobes or transphobes. Take a look at the developmental disability community for some examples of what oppressors do when we’re born this way.
2. It contradicts the idea of actively introspecting to discover your sexual orientation and/or gender identity, invalidating anyone who didn’t just know automatically.
3. It implies that our inability to change is the only good reason to accept us, and by extension implies that we ought to change if we could. Therefore, it actually reinforces that notion that there’s Something Wrong With Us, rather than challenging it.
4. It erases the experiences of people whose queer identities were developed through trauma, who were not in fact born this way.
-You are strong
-You are SO attractive
-You are worthy of respect
-You should not feel ashamed to ask for help
-Someone cares about you
-Give or receive a hug today. You need it.
If you didn’t do anything but look at tumblr today, that’s okay. You’ve seen some entertaining posts, maybe you reached out to someone, or you saw something healing or warming. That is more than enough for one day. Remember, your mental well-being comes first.💗
And finally… I stopped caring. I stopped wondering what you were doing or where you were. I stopped wondering if you missed me or if you still loved me. I just really don’t care anymore and honestly it’s quite freeing.
I remember being told at a young age to put my shirt on at sleepovers, that I wasn’t one of the boys. I remember trying to pee standing up at age 8 and making an absolute mess. I remember the envy I felt and couldn’t explain over my guy friends’ Adam’s apples And voices And muscle tone. While my body softened, though never became quite womanly, during puberty. I remember my grandmother telling me to stop slouching And never knowing why I wanted to hide my chest. I remember starving myself to prevent any curves from staking claim on my body. Looking back I remember these things, but it would be years until I came out.
I came out as queer (at the time, a lesbian) at 18 when I was out from under my parents roof. I thought I had finally found my niche, my thing, my explanation to a lifelong unnamed unease. I chopped my hair off, I loved women openly, and they loved me. I was “happy” in my newfound confidence as a masculine of center person. But I wasn’t.
Sometime around 20 I discovered that people could transition. That gender wasn’t black and white Or just what was assigned. I came out as trans for the first time crying on my bathroom floor, my girlfriend at the time tried to console me. I never came out to my twin, she just knew And though it took time, eventually she came around. The first time I told my mother we were in Vegas And I’d say it ruined the trip. The first time I told a stranger my new name was at Starbucks I was thrilled to hear someone call me Christopher Even if they didn’t know any better.
It would take me the next two years to come out slowly First to the my close friends Then to strangers And eventually a post on social media to address everyone else. I had been going by Chris in private for about two years before the day I actually “came out” (again). Some of us take time, and that’s alright.
Join us on National Coming Out Day 2016 [10/11] for an Answer Time with DEADPOOL’s Brianna Hildebrand. She’ll be answering your questions between 5pm / 2pm ET/PT - 6pm / 3pm ET/PT.
Brianna will be answering your questions about her soon-to-be released film, FIRST GIRL I LOVED and all things It Gets Better! We’ll have a mental health professional, Matthew Dempsey, LPCC, on call with us to answer all of your coming out questions.
December 28 marks the one-year anniversary of the tragic death of 17-year-old Leelah Alcorn. Alcorn, who was transgender, walked into Cincinnati traffic to end her life. Alcorn’s death inspired a City of Cincinnati ordinance, passed earlier this month, which bans LGBT conversion therapy for minors.
Okay, so I see a lot of posts floating around Tumblr about how awful/exhausting/stressful adulthood is. They make me laugh and they’re relatable and sometimes I reblog them. The thing is, though, for me, adulthoodis actually way better than being a teenager was–so I wanted to share some things I love about being an adult, just to even out the balance. I don’t think I have any teenage followers, but maybe some in their early twenties? Anyway, I don’t want people to fear adulthood, because there are amazing things about it:
–Normally, I end my evenings by sitting on my sofa in my flat in pleasant solitude, drinking herbal tea and reading and listening to that morning’s Essential Classics on Radio 3. This should be the dictionary definition of bliss.
–Even though I have experienced bullying as an adult as well as when I was a child/teenager, I feel like my internal resources for dealing with it are better now and growing all the time. I no longer feel like the bad things people say to and about me define me.
–Buying my own laundry detergent means I can finally pick one that I’m not allergic to. I am no longer 110% covered in red itches at all times.
–I have friends who are boys and my dad isn’t in my house to constantly harrass me about them.
–Last year I went to a concert of science fiction scores played by the Royal Philharmonic with someone I know slightly from church. It was the actual coolest.
–My brother and I are friends now that we live in entirely different cities. He texted me the other day for advice on his CV. It was nice.
–My friends either share my interests or love the fact that I’m so interested in those things. It’s been years since I’ve said to anyone “I learnt an interesting thing today!” and they’ve replied, flatly, “define interesting”.
–I just feel so much more like myself than I did when I was a teenager. I’m okay with hating make-up/loving Disney films/being super career-driven/being great with kids, and the fact that those things would seem to make me a contradiction, and that I’m actually just me.
–My mum keeps defending my right to be single to anyone who tries to commiserate with her about the fact that she doesn’t have grandbabies. Adulthood, for me, has meant becoming friends with my mum.
–I know enough about myself and the world now to realise that understanding social/relational stuff is a real weak point of mine. When I don’t understand those things now, I say “I don’t understand this” to my friends, and they help me without laughing at me. (Then I help them with their CVs and knowing where their apostrophes belong. Turn and turn about is fair play).
–Enough bad things have come and gone in my life that I know dark seasons will pass, and even the things that aren’t temporary (my dad will probably never not be a borderline-homeless misogynistic conspiracy theorist again) are just part of my life, not the whole of it. They don’t consume me. When awful things happen, I am sad for a few weeks or months, but I know that one day I will be not sad for a while, and that is worth hanging on for. This is something I never could have known when I was a teenager, because not enough bad things had come and gone from my life.
–I would not trade the worst day of my last six months (which was awful and heartbreaking and I think I literally cried for 24 hours straight) for any day from my life aged 11-16. I have been sad, this year, but I also knew it would pass. It gets better. It gets so much better.