Last night Gracie and some friends of hers from California and I sneaked into Cougar Hot Springs. I'd never been, but I fucking love it up there (which is to say up the McKenzie.) The stars are so incredibly bright and the air is so delicious. It had me seriously considering giving up this whole library science dream in favor of working as a park ranger of some sort. And this isn't hyperbole; I think the answer (or one of the answers) to me being pleased and happy with my life involves being surrounded by trees for several miles in any direction.
The hot springs ended up being quite the social occasion; we ran into some of Gracie's other friends there who were camping up the road, and about 20 minutes after we got there who should show up but Jessica, Cordell and Pat, swigging whiskey and smoking their menthols in the steam like hipster snow monkeys.
But where is the trans-relevance in this? It was weird being naked in front of so many people. It was weird having just met Gracie's friends, and not being out to them as far as I know, and then suddenly taking off my clothes and revealing myself in that way. Nothing horrible happened, and no one said anything--no one used female pronouns, even--but I still felt a self-conscious, and I still got a slight feeling that people were uncomfortable or at least a bit surprised. Maybe it was even stranger since I couldn't wear my glasses in the steam, so I had the peculiar feeling of being seen while not being able to see anyone else.
The experience made me anxious for top surgery. There's a certain level of acceptable discomfort I have with my chest, but at this point, and generally, it doesn't bother me too much in the short term as long as I keep it bound down. But being not just unbound but naked in front of people, even in a dark/foggy situation, was kind of a mind fuck. It made me realize that, though I've gotten pretty good (with the help of hormones) of appearing male, the basic shape of my body is as it was, which was surprisingly frustrating.
So I had the thought of, "If I got top surgery, I wouldn't be having this problem." But then I realized, of course, that my lower business isn't going to change (or rather, given the current expense and modern technology and my own personal reasons, I'm not planning to change it) into something male-appearing in a standard way. This gave me the sad realization that I'll probably never be comfortable at a hot springs again: where once I felt like my body was awesome and babely, now it's something that needs an explanation, something that is inherently challenging, something that makes me slightly defensive. And this just made me feel sad and doubtful and frustrated and like I've fucked up my life.
4 comments:
Are you familiar with the Femme Sharks and the term "jam" for FTM genitalia? I cannot do the explanation justice, and it sounds silly w/o context, but I heard about it on the FemmeCast podcast today and thought I'd mention it.
I had a weird experience at the Hot Springs this summer, being disabled and fat and just, in general, other than the folks I was with. I know it's not at all the same thing, but I've been thinking about bodies a lot lately, so your story resonated with me.
I can totally relate to the park ranger dream, too. One reason I fucking love Utah.
I like "jam," though I'm partial to the Dan Savage term "Ikea cock" (as in it has all the parts that make up standard male genitals, but you assemble it at home...with you IMAGINATION.)
I think yours is a similar experience. I'm coming at this with a certain level of privilege, I realize, since I started off with a thin, white, functional, generally unmarked body coupled with an intensively body-positive upbringing. And I'm still pretty okay with my body personally, but feeling scrutiny or otherness about it in such a naked way (pun intended) was new and strange and shocking and complain-worthy.
But now I realize that it's kind of a welcome to the club thing, that most people are uncomfortable with their bodies in some way. It's kind of like when I started using the mens restroom and it made me anxious; I soon realized that NO ONE's comfortable in the mens restroom.
I'd like to say something to cheer you up about this most recent experience, but I really just want to tell you that as I read this post, I kept imagining Judith Butler saying something along the lines of "the contouring of the body" or "the violent materialization of the body's contours" or "the limits of bodily contours" in a very articulate manner with much gesticulation...
Perhaps that actually will cheer you up?
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