My name is Charlie. I am a transsexual man.

My name is Charlie. That is my “real” name, not my “preferred” name. (I’m in the process of legally changing it…again. I’ll explain in a later post.) Go ahead, google my name and stalk me. I don’t care, I know the reality I face should I begin to seriously blog.

Today celebrates the third anniversary of the last of my sex change surgeries. Yes, I am a transsexual.

I do my best to live life as any other typical guy in his mid-30s: work hard at my job, save up, planning to return to school to improve my skillset, be there for my family and friends. I occasionally drink at my local gay bar (albeit as a straight guy, they don’t care), though otherwise I’m usually dry. I’m a bachelor, been a long time since I’ve dated, and I don’t actively date.

Self portrait in front of a salon, sporting a fauxhawk and brown eyeglasses.
Me getting a fauxhawk just after coming out as transsexual. Circa May 2014.

I grew up extremely tomboyish, and identified as a stone butch woman for 15 years (from about the age of 16 till I began to transition at the age of 27). I’ve had family try to feminize me, didn’t work. I have suffered a double dose of “reparative” therapy, where the church I was forced to join (via an ex, my parents had no involvement) tried to erase my attraction to women, while forcing me into typically female behavior and roles (because of their belief in gender essentialism). Yea, I’ve attempted suicide several times as a result.

I knew I was probably transsexual (not transgender, I’ll explain the differences in a future post) since I was 16, after watching a special on hermaphrodism and looking it up online, but it wasn’t until I was 27 to finally accept this fact when Janet Mock and Laverne Cox became headlines. Till then, I tried to appropriate my masculine side through being stone butch, but every time my period hit or people referred to my womanhood, it bummed me out. But I was also in situations where exploring my transsexuality was dangerous, at least if not possible. Watching Queer as Folk followed by a stay at a women’s shelter confirmed I was a guy, not a stone butch woman. Once I qualified for health insurance through my then employer, and finally getting my car fixed, I started my sex change (I use that term, I’ll explain in a future post).

I obtained a double mastectomy (aka “top surgery” or “chest surgery”) in 2016, six months after starting HRT, and bottom surgery in 2017, not even a year later. While I’m a strong advocate in taking time to get counselling and undergo the “real life experience” before obtaining sex change surgeries, I wasn’t then and was desperate to get what I could get done. Unfortunately, in the midst of obtaining metoidioplasty… My hysterectomy prevented me from getting one, and both the surgeon and gynecologist did not want to redo that surgery, citing poor candidacy. I live as a man with a vagina, but free of the other gynecological organs that was a major cause of gender dysphoria. I am a damn good candidate for phalloplasty, but fuck no. (I’ll explain why, again, down the line.)

Self portrait of author in front of a movie poster for the movie Bohemian Rhapsody.
Me in front of the movie poster of Bohemian Rhapsody.

There are tons of blogs, vlogs, sites on trans issues out there, and I highly doubt I can add anything new or useful to the conversation… Wait, how the trans agenda works doesn’t act so much to converse, as to dictate. Many of my posts, especially as a post-op transsexual, will object to their agenda and identity politics, if not at least their delivery. A good example: being told how to tolerate the word “queer”, which was once an insult, but not being allowed to call myself “transsexual”, which is an actual medical term.

I want to be an active member of the overall trans community, but all the bitching going on has put off many people like me. We go through our sex changes and legal stuff, and other than HRT for health maintenance, we go on to live lives as members of the opposite sex as best we can, instead of continuing to participate in the trans community. “Binary” trans folk like myself are also cut off by the increasing number of “non-binary” and “gender queer” youth who expect everything to be about them, without considering others’ needs.

This blog will not be a forum for alternative viewpoints to the general politics the trans agenda advocates for. This blog is my place to discuss my takes on trans issues. This blog will also be an account on how I live my life as a man, though my influence and modeling falls more in line with Picard as opposed to Kirk, more like the Doctor as opposed to a John Wane character.

Author: Charlie

I live my life trying to be your everyday guy. Drink—maybe too much?—coffee. Watch hockey. Work to pay the bills. The truth is, there’s one major aspect of me that separates me from most men: I was born with a female body. I am three years post-op, and have never been happier with both my body and my life, or quality of life.

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