You want to know something that bugs me? The color pink.
No need to check your web browser, you are indeed reading the blog of a male to female transgender person. Based on a good deal of what I pick up on the Internet (which never lies) as a male to female transgender person I ought to have a near fetish for anything pink. Pink represents femininity and all that, so once I embrace womanhood I ought to practically bathe myself in the color pink, blah-de-blah, yada yada.
I call bullshit.
One of the things I am trying to recover from is the sense that I need to glom onto really obvious cues to signify my acceptance of any particular gender role. I did a lot of that when I was trying to pass believably as a guy. I got pretty good at it, but it darned near killed me by the end.
Not healthy, is my point.
This has contributed to a feeling where I instinctively recoil from people trying to shove me into any rigid gender stereotype – including anything color coded. Just leave me be and I’ll be who I am, thank you very much. If pink is the expectation for womanhood, I’m showing up in black. Or green. Or blue. Or anything other than pink.
The other reason the color pink bugs me… I actually like the color. I have some pink clothing I really like because I actually look good in it (at 41 we don’t take such things for granted). And I can’t wear it without worrying if people seeing it will think “Just another over-compensating tranny,” and goddammit for that!
I had to avoid pink even though I liked it when I was a guy because I was afraid people would read me as a closeted trans person. Now I avoid pink because I worry people will read me as a fetishy tranny. Some day I’ll get to just like it the same way I like blue. And when that happens I’ll know I’ve finished my transition.