Tramazon Lasso of Truth: I’ve Had ‘the Surgery’… Now What?
By: Kay Eden
Tags: Gender Identity, Transphobia, Gender Transition, Transgender, Vaginoplasty

Tramazon Lasso of Truth: I’ve Had ‘the Surgery’… Now What?

by Kay Eden Gerber, November20, 2020

(CW: Transphobia, surgery , sexual assault)

On the 5th anniversary of the beginning of my gender transition, I underwent a huge, invasive surgery. It is known by a few different acronyms:

GRS: Gender Reassignment Surgery

GCS: Gender Confirming Surgery

SRS: Sexual Reassignment Surgery

TOII: Turning an Outie into an Innie

HEMSBML: Having an Electric Mixer Shoved Between My Legs

GSP: Getting Some P***Y (I can call MINE that as much as I wanna. So nyeah!)

CBFU: Correcting Biology’s Fuck Up

So, well…that happened, and even though I knew it was a life-and-death necessity, I wasn’t even close to prepared for the sheer amount of…completeness…that this would bring me. I look down, and the last physical deformity the…um… ‘guy’ left in it’s wake is gone.

Gone.

Yeah.

Gone.

The changes it brought to my perspective on my life are so all-encompassing as to be somewhat overwhelming. As a result, my ‘post-op privilege’ began scrolling a few questions into my path as if going through a frightening and painful healing period wasn’t enough to keep my mind occupied.

A few of them answered themselves.

Do I feel valid within myself?

Laws, yes I do. M-O-O-N: that spells valid.

What is the upside of your participating in Twitter fights with Gendercrits, TERFs and other transphobic types?

You mean, if I’m being honest with myself? Nothing.

Then, is there a need for you to be active on Twitter?

Newp. Now that I think about it, being strident never accomplished a single goddamned thing.

Am I a ‘biological’ woman?

Of course not. My chromosomes zigged when they should have zagged whilst I was in gestation and the resulting whoopsie robbed me of decades of my life.

Do I need to be constantly reminded of my biological sex?

Thanks for your concern, but I’m already completely aware of the piss-poor hand nature dealt me.

Yes. I get it. Bye, now.

And, in case you’re someone who simply doesn’t understand me (as opposed to someone who genuinely despises me), or questions how I know in my very soul that I’m a woman…um…WHY IN THE FIERY BOWELS OF HELL WOULD I SUBJECT MYSELF TO ALL OF THIS IF I WASN’T?:

Hormones

Marginalization

Vilification

Crippling dysphoria

Depression

Anxiety

Suicidality

Name and gender changes

Workplace hostility

Surgeries

Divorce

Violence

Death

Aren’t you just mentally ill?

Aw, go wash your hair in a bus station toilet. If this is a mental illness, it sure hit a ton of us in gradually increasing numbers. Is there something in the water? Cellphone radiation? Genetically-modified diet soft drinks? Spoiled ground beef?

Should I really care what gendercrits, TERFs and transphobes think of me?

That’s a thornier question.

On one hand, yes. These people use dogwhistling, gaslighting, hysteria and plain ol’, direct obnoxiousness to justify their bullshit and make me and mine more miserable.

But, on the other hand…I look in the mirror and see a woman. Strangers look (or leer) at me and see a woman. I feel it now, know it now, love it now and feel more confident in myself than at any other time in my life.

So…do their opinions matter to me? Should they matter to me?

If I’m honest with myself, their bile does not make me any less me, so…I guess, no.

Holy shit. Did I really just SAY that?

Yes. I did. And while I have no earthly desire to interact with any of them, and while they cry marginalization during lulls between diatribes of hate speech…why poison my own soul by listening to them if I don’t have to?

Don’t get me wrong: if it’s a work situation where I cannot simply walk away, or if it keeps me excluded from the things that make me happy, you can bet that I won’t simply turn the other cheek. Simple solution: I stay away from you; you stay away from me.

Should I ‘go stealth’? Should I simply stop identifying myself as trans?

I could certainly do it. It’s not anyone’s business what my anatomy is anyway, but…wouldn’t I then have to dissociate from my own community? Do I delete my articles? Stop helping people understand? Stop supporting and guiding the people who need me?

To live a normal life, do I need to silence myself?

Let’s put a pin in that for the foreseeable future.

And, here’s a deeply philosophical one that has plagued me for the last half-decade: does my vagina and the validation I now enjoy require more responsibility for me to be a good feminist?

The answer, in a matter of speaking and regardless of genitalia, is fuck yes and fuck no.

I’ve always appreciated how my cisfeminine friends and family have not only accepted me, but tried to educate me as well. And, though I’ve made enormous strides in that direction, there was always my resentment of TERFs getting in the way. I’m not proud of this, but it’s true.

Being the target of hatred should not impede my being the best woman I can be.

What does that ‘best woman' look like? Well, the best woman I can be has learned so many positive things from the women I gravitate to. I understand that women are indeed spoken down to by men in tandem with their being blamed for being silent. I understand what unreasonable beauty standards are, because I have fallen short of them to this very moment. I know the difference between being objectified as a women and…uh…well, if you’ve ever seen me pre-transition, you know for a fact that I have no earthly clue how it feels to be objectified as a man and that I probably need to map out my stories more before I type this half-assed bullshit and publish it to the public so those very few who read this will have no doubt whatsoever that I’m completely talking out of my ass and oh shit am I thinking this or typing it OH FUCK I’M TYPING THIS I NEED TO REMEMBER TO EDIT THIS CRAP BEFORE I PUBLISH IT BUT IT’S NOW ON THE SITE AND I’M TOO TIRED TO DELETE IT AW TAHELLWITHIT.

As for the ‘…and fuck no' part, I’ve seen enough exclusionary, ignorant, self-righteous, violent, hateful women that I’m actually glad I’m trans because it means I’m not them. It took a lot of introspection for me to learn that the world does not revolve around me and that I’m neither hero nor villain and that there is much that I have yet to learn. This fills me with hope, because it means that I’m still growing UP as opposed to growing OLD or, worse, becoming as stagnant as rock. Rock does not live; it exists. And I didn’t come this far to merely exist. People who refuse to have dialogs because it’s so much easier to hate and hurt others are simply dead.

And, here’s something I’ve experienced in increasing amounts in the last five years: I’ve been talked down to for being a woman, I’ve been harassed for being a woman. I’ve been ignored for being a woman.

But a concern of mine, that I’ve always managed to keep in the back of my mind has, with the addition of my lady parts, stepped out into center stage: I now have the bugaboo of being vaginally raped leering over my shoulder.

Up until now, I’ve been a flirtatious, risk-taking bee-yotch of a girl who was just plain inattentive to the possibility of being violated. I was a fool.

I’m not saying that I’m going to deny my sexy self her days in the sun. What I’m saying is that I need to be cognizant of the risks, aware of my surroundings, keeping myself safe. Being fucking CAREFUL.

And I will.

I’ve always considered the hurts I’ve sustained, as me, to be life lessons on my way to my true self, but that’s a ‘lesson’ I’d prefer to avoid. Rape is an act of violent, invasive , dehumanizing control and I’d like to set anyone who thinks it’s a good idea ablaze.

All this, a mere fortnight after getting my 🐞.

I’m looking forward with hope, anticipation, trepidation, fear, joy and gratitude. Regardless of the negativity I’ve endured and hurts I’ve yet to experience, I finally feel complete.

Do you regret transitioning?

Fuck. No.