Proof of identity?
Sep. 4th, 2007 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_fantastic_ms_foxMore Surprises:
I have name-based ID e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e
It's coming in line. I have BCID, bank card, SFU Library, SFU internal database, and now, after more than a month of visits to the registar's, a matching U-Pass - I said "it seems to have the wrong picture on it, can you print me a new one?" This, finally, worked, and now I don't have to fish through my wallet whenever I see Translink police, because now my U-Pass and other ID match.
SFU and ICBC will only give you new ID when you turn in your old ones. I hand over an old name, I get back the right one. The bind is that the picture ID is the top priority on replacement, but I also want to hold onto the old pictures. As I lose them, I feel like he/I is/am slowly being erased, falling into smoke and drifting away from us and into the otherworld.
You see, I cannot remember my father's face, and there are so few photos of him.
I have yet to replace my passport, medicare, credit card, Vancouver library card, and my birth certificate. Eventually there will be no card to say that he/I ever existed.
I continue to use "my new voice" 95% of the time. It still sounds weird to me... at least most of the time. Some say it's fine. Others say that it only sounds the same, but higher. Others say that I sound like a teenage boy. This variance is both a matter of personal perception, and because my vocal habits are inconsistent: sometimes I'm experimenting, other times my concentration is wavering, sometimes I'm tired. But it is sounding better, and it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative, and now, when I try to use my old voice, it's weak from neglect.
Why am I writing this? Because my long-term project is fixing myself, and the most grueling and externally-grating part of this project is my gender. Because I can mark distance, mark time, mark changes since a year ago when, even though I didn't realize it, I decided to go ahead with this. I want to know that I am getting somewhere; that I have done something.
I want proof.
I go through flickr, looking for my old name, then the transitional name, then my current name, and get more proof that yes, there is change, and I try to remember that I have made this change.
I hear people call "hey guy" and say "oops... uh... guys?" as they get a closer look. Or "thanks you guys - er - thanks you both" under the same circumstances. I walk in the door at Chicklets without getting the "you know this is a lesbian event" script.
More importantly than mirrors or others are the times when I say, this is right. When the clothes don't look great, or particularly aid in passing, but feel appropriate. When the dyke club wasn't exactly what I hoped, but it just feels like somewhere I should be at this time in my life. When I feel my body move when she touches me. Yeah, I say, A good choice.
Most importantly, now and then, I have this sense of a harmonious holographic intersection between mind, body and spirit from which springs this sense of being who I should be. I feel and am her/I.
It happens at the oddest times. Sometimes when I'm cocky. Sometimes when I'm weeping. Often when I'm in an ecstatic state. Often when I'm drawing. Most often when I'm honest for the sake of myself. I think that it's becoming more frequent. This, more than anything, lets me know that I've chosen the right thing to do.
Yes, The progress is good, but being right in this life is even better.
Still, I am also getting tired. I think I'm through the roughest parts, have climbed the steepest slope, and should now have a chance to labour on gently and over a slighter incline and taste the ever-improving fruits of my efforts. This is good because while I'm ready to work, I'm getting tired of this.
Still, I can see why transsexuals wouldn' t want to be transgender activists: so when can I take a break from this? When can I just let this slip from my mind, and not have it colour every single interaction, even if it's just in my own head? When am I done being trans? Done transition? I'm done, but when is it done?
Part of me just wants it to be over. This part too needs to be honoured, and when I acknowledge this, and know that letting go does not mean giving up or sliding back, but walking free, I can feel the me of which I spoke, and this tells that this too, even though it emerged not from strident achievement, but through exhaustion, or perhaps because it emerged from exhaustion, is a good decision.
I have name-based ID e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e
It's coming in line. I have BCID, bank card, SFU Library, SFU internal database, and now, after more than a month of visits to the registar's, a matching U-Pass - I said "it seems to have the wrong picture on it, can you print me a new one?" This, finally, worked, and now I don't have to fish through my wallet whenever I see Translink police, because now my U-Pass and other ID match.
SFU and ICBC will only give you new ID when you turn in your old ones. I hand over an old name, I get back the right one. The bind is that the picture ID is the top priority on replacement, but I also want to hold onto the old pictures. As I lose them, I feel like he/I is/am slowly being erased, falling into smoke and drifting away from us and into the otherworld.
You see, I cannot remember my father's face, and there are so few photos of him.
I have yet to replace my passport, medicare, credit card, Vancouver library card, and my birth certificate. Eventually there will be no card to say that he/I ever existed.
I continue to use "my new voice" 95% of the time. It still sounds weird to me... at least most of the time. Some say it's fine. Others say that it only sounds the same, but higher. Others say that I sound like a teenage boy. This variance is both a matter of personal perception, and because my vocal habits are inconsistent: sometimes I'm experimenting, other times my concentration is wavering, sometimes I'm tired. But it is sounding better, and it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative, and now, when I try to use my old voice, it's weak from neglect.
Why am I writing this? Because my long-term project is fixing myself, and the most grueling and externally-grating part of this project is my gender. Because I can mark distance, mark time, mark changes since a year ago when, even though I didn't realize it, I decided to go ahead with this. I want to know that I am getting somewhere; that I have done something.
I want proof.
I go through flickr, looking for my old name, then the transitional name, then my current name, and get more proof that yes, there is change, and I try to remember that I have made this change.
I hear people call "hey guy" and say "oops... uh... guys?" as they get a closer look. Or "thanks you guys - er - thanks you both" under the same circumstances. I walk in the door at Chicklets without getting the "you know this is a lesbian event" script.
More importantly than mirrors or others are the times when I say, this is right. When the clothes don't look great, or particularly aid in passing, but feel appropriate. When the dyke club wasn't exactly what I hoped, but it just feels like somewhere I should be at this time in my life. When I feel my body move when she touches me. Yeah, I say, A good choice.
Most importantly, now and then, I have this sense of a harmonious holographic intersection between mind, body and spirit from which springs this sense of being who I should be. I feel and am her/I.
It happens at the oddest times. Sometimes when I'm cocky. Sometimes when I'm weeping. Often when I'm in an ecstatic state. Often when I'm drawing. Most often when I'm honest for the sake of myself. I think that it's becoming more frequent. This, more than anything, lets me know that I've chosen the right thing to do.
Yes, The progress is good, but being right in this life is even better.
Still, I am also getting tired. I think I'm through the roughest parts, have climbed the steepest slope, and should now have a chance to labour on gently and over a slighter incline and taste the ever-improving fruits of my efforts. This is good because while I'm ready to work, I'm getting tired of this.
Still, I can see why transsexuals wouldn' t want to be transgender activists: so when can I take a break from this? When can I just let this slip from my mind, and not have it colour every single interaction, even if it's just in my own head? When am I done being trans? Done transition? I'm done, but when is it done?
Part of me just wants it to be over. This part too needs to be honoured, and when I acknowledge this, and know that letting go does not mean giving up or sliding back, but walking free, I can feel the me of which I spoke, and this tells that this too, even though it emerged not from strident achievement, but through exhaustion, or perhaps because it emerged from exhaustion, is a good decision.