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KimPérez 12-19-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Ttwo and a half years ago, since June 2009, we began a task, which continues now, for the fuzzy sets of gender, for the non-binarism of gender-sex, of which I am going to tell here, in the Transsexual Digital Diary, where it is going.

Here. Carla, regardless of her opinion, has naturally accepted my opinions at all times, often expressed obsessively (because I am obsessive, while a question overwhelms me and I can't find the solution).

Only once did he make the observation that I alternate them with other topics, which I also tried beforehand, and it seemed like common sense to me, and I have also tried to do it.

But why have I talked so much about non-binarism? First, because it is solving a problem that I have had and that has always bothered me, since I was thirteen years old, and therefore because it is a matter of personal interest.

Second, because I know with the strongest of constancy that non-binarism (or, in positive terms, the vision of fuzzy sets of gender-sex) has solved similar problems, caused by binaryism, especially in people trans, but also in straight people.

(Although I have to say that the strongest opposition to non-binaryism comes from other trans people; although I also have to repeat –or maybe I haven't repeated it enough-, that it is because of misunderstandings)

In order to continue pleasantly, I will now explain again what non-binarism is, or fuzzy sets (as we called it on the terrace of the Botanical Garden, those two and a half years ago now, in June 2009)

It is the conviction that there are men and women, as the binary says; but that those men and women are varied in masculinity and femininity; and include transgender men and women; and there are also people who are not (biologically) male or female, but intersex, to varying degrees, more or less; or people who feel that way, also to varying degrees.

That is, that humanity is as we know it to be, and as we see when we look at it: varied. What I want to ask, before continuing, to whoever reads me, is what is difficult about this for transsexual people to accept.

Binaryism, on the other hand, is not what they think. It does not consist of his point of view, which is that we are men and women; but the point of view of the traditionalists, who say that there are only biological men and women and that the other variations are pathologies, sins or crimes.

I understand why many transgender people cling to the binary: they want to insist that they are male and female; but you have to know that pure binarists don't want to see that.

In June 2009 I presented the non-binarist points of view to the Feminist Women's Assembly of Granada, with the intention of taking them to the State Days, which would be held in December. Immediately, I counted on Amets Suess, who had the same intention, and the friends of the Assembly, who already have a programmatic awareness that non-binarism must be incorporated into feminism, supported us at that same meeting.

Amets and I started weekly gatherings of friends at the Bar Botánico in Granada, taking advantage of the summer to keep them charmingly on the terrace, next to the freshness of the garden. One day, waiting leaning against one of the stone pillars of the gate, was Pablo Vergara.

One of the first decisions we made, to avoid the simple negation that exists in the word non-binarism, was to positively call ourselves Fuzzy Sets, understanding that of gender.

The diffusivity of gender, that is, the infinite variation of personal forms of gender, was an idea that, due to my own personal reality, had been going around in my head since at least 2000, when the Cordoba State Days , using concepts such as “blurred” reality, “more or less woman”, etc.

Around that 2009, I realized that the Theory of Fuzzy Sets, formulated by the mathematician Lofti A. Zadeh (also spelled Lotfi) in 1963, which is applied to social facts, variable flows, etc, it suited the reality of gender-sex well. Today we know that when a material reality finds a mathematical formulation, we are on a good scientific path to talk about it.

Lofti A. Zadeh was named Doctor Honoris Causa by the University of Granada, among others. The Auditorium, where the appointment would take place, I suppose, is less than a hundred meters from the Botanical Bar.

Well, the first formulation that we made of the Fuzzy Sets of gender-sex consisted of seeing them as a multitude of individual particles that tend to group into a diversity of open sets, which can be that of Men and that of Women (open), that of Intersex who consider themselves intersex, that of Ambiguous who consider themselves Ambiguous, and so on. It was necessary to say Etcetera, because any enumeration had to remain open.

This statement made people, from a gender-sex point of view, look something like the starry sky, where the multitude of stars also form open sets, which are galaxies.

Recently, I have qualified this view with an element that also comes from Zadeh's Theory of Fuzzy Sets: the existence of attractors, which are abstract, purely statistical centers that attract the various elements of the fuzzy set (or open )

In the human gender, it is true that there are two great attractors that are the Masculine and the Feminine. They are statistical attractors, which attract the majority of people, who feel more or less identitarily attracted to one or the other. Most people like to feel like men or women, including most transgender and intersex people. The existence of both also depends largely on eroticism and procreation. Although, from the diffuse point of view, one must also be aware of the existence of a minority that may not feel attracted to one or the other, who prefer to live individually, completely free or loose from shared identities, or who feel attracted to other attractors. smaller that can be that of the Ambiguous, that of the Intersex who prefer to be... Ellipses.

KimPérez 05-12-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

TI transcribe here and adapt a part of the transsexual novel that I am writing, which is entitled “Men and Women”. I have had many surprises myself while writing it, and I was paying particular attention to many things previously unnoticed.

Looking out the window, today when many people pass by, I am suddenly amazed by something that has always seemed normal to us. All those who pass are men or women.

No more than two ways, and no less than two ways. People are not of a unique model. Everyone goes one of two, either dressed as a man or in women's clothing; they are used to being born already separated, to follow a life as a man or as a woman.

Wow! Although they go down the street scrambled, they actually go two by two, it's as if they belong to two fields or to the two huge, separate glass panes of a gigantic window that reaches from earth to heaven, to which more or less they hit each other, the men's and the women's.

I remember when I was a child, and something trivial would surprise me a lot. He was looking at her from the side, turning his head on my shoulder. Or even, I would put my head upside down and look at it upside down, between my legs.

In this way, I got new perspectives that confirmed to me that what I was seeing was strange.

This vision is so rare, it lasts only a couple of seconds. While it lasts, and I see that everyone is close to one of the leaves or the other, I am outside of both, because I am seeing them, or rather, I am like an alien looking at how the Earth works.

And it works like this: there are men and women.

(Note: Now my protagonist begins to tell his story; he attaches great importance in his feelings to the genitals; but I do not absolve it: I know that there are many people who are women or men and in their feelings it is much more important the role of gender in society than the genitals. Therefore, the protagonist talks about herself)

This thought leads me to another. I am very happy to be sexual. I am very happy to be a woman.

I feel this: since I had surgery, I have acquired the habit of sleeping many nights with my hand placed on my groin, feeling that it is now a curve, smooth, soft, open.

My whole body tingles, and I fall asleep calm and peaceful.

When my husband has already started making love to me, I also feel great pleasure in offering myself to him. My body exists and he takes it, makes it his, and the feeling is dizzying.

I am a woman without a doubt, with an immense depth, and only because of what I say, because my body is mine now, just as it is; I think of him, and I imagine him immensely open, a calm, welcoming body.

But the presence of a man in him makes me shudder with sudden pleasure, in which his firmness unexpectedly contrasts with my softness and makes me feel differently, wanting him, enjoying that now he is in me, because the being makes me his

I don't like men, but I like to imagine this man and be his, to command me and protect me.

I think I am a woman only because my feelings are this way and they are what make a person a woman.

Before I had surgery, I could think that my feelings were ambiguous, and I remember that sometimes they followed masculine models (but never gendered ones), although important; but since now I have the evidence that is offered to me in the cup of my hand, just by touching my body and feeling how it is, everything is easier.

I am a woman and I am pleased to be a woman and I am even proud to be a woman; I would like to be a woman always; be reborn once and again as a woman.

I am because of the awareness of how my body is and because of my relationship with men or with this particular man that I see and that I fantasize about all the time; the order of my feelings is, first for my body, and then for the man.

The copy of the novel is up to here.

Ángela Gutiérrez offers me an explanation of how these feelings and sensations are possible in a person who has undergone surgery.

They have been awakened through the experience of sexuality. But how is it possible that a body that has undergone an orchidectomy (a word that is beautiful because of its orchid connotation), an emasculation, continues to be sexual?

First, because thanks to all this, for the first time he feels the pleasure of the correspondence between body and soul; a woman's body corresponds to a woman's soul; the drama of “anima mulieris in corpore virile inclusa”... or “abscondite” has ended.

And secondly, from the explanation that Angela gives: all sexuality, all sexual feeling, all arousal, depends on androgens, both in men and women, in different amounts. In both, they come from the adrenal glands; and in males, of the gonads.

In the preparation of the transsexual body, during hormonation, antiandrogens are used, whose effect is to suppress sexuality; People who have to take them therefore go through a phase of sexual insensitivity, of total lack of reaction, they go blank, before any sexual stimulus.

But after the operation, since there is no more gonadal flow, the antiandrogen can be withdrawn; and then, as in women, only the flow from the adrenal glands remains.

Then, in a body and a soul already equated, as far as possible, in femininity, a sexuality of a feminine nature reappears with full intensity.

Before contained or frustrated by the consciousness of a dissenting body, now it naturally finds a way to express itself.

KimPérez 11-07-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

These days, the transsexual world is (more or less) united in demanding the depathologization of transsexuality, since we see it as an expression of natural human variability.

But the logical question immediately arises: if transsexuality is not a health problem, what are the arguments that support our demand for medical attention, so urgent that it even justifies its inclusion in Social Security?

To answer this question, I'm going to tell a story. Note that, from this moment on, the word transsexual will not appear in this story.

I knew a girl from afar, when we were young, in college. She was petite, and she had a very big nose. She seemed always shrunken and had an expression of being self-conscious and very miserable.

Of course, she was excluded from the youthful flirtation of hookups. I never heard from her again, but I made up the story of her, in the sixties.

I wish it was like that, more or less.

This was not unusual. It is the theme of Quevedo's sonnet: "Once upon a man stuck to a nose / Once upon a superlative nose..."

The consequences of a situation that can sadden and overwhelm a person, were the mockery of others.

There are situations that arouse sympathy and understanding. A big nose, no.

Or perhaps, exceptionally, Edmond Rostand, author of “Cyrano de Bergerac”, who saw the possibility that the huge nose was linked to a beautiful soul and a true poetic genius.

But what if there is no such justification, if the very big nose is attached to a normal soul, without any special talent?

Wouldn't respect and understanding then exist?

Well, let's suppose that my companion, when the time comes, decides to go to a doctor, before her situation definitively embitters her life.

Suppose you arrive at Doctor A. He asks you about the reasons for your visit.

-Doctor, the girl tells him, I am very unfortunate. All the time at school, my classmates had started making fun of me, calling me "the Big Nose" or making jokes about me.

“I cringed, I didn't have the character to confront them, tell them “So what?”, and be the first at breaks and in class, make them respect me and even admire me. So I couldn't. I felt alone, unique in the world.

“No matter how hard I looked around, I couldn't see anyone like me.

“I lost all courage, and in fact I was left alone. To the school cinema, on Sundays, I would go alone along the way, I would arrive alone, and I would be alone. Around me, my companions always arrived together, they sat together, chatted, laughed, and while they watched the film they felt united, in company, and they came out radiant and talking non-stop. I had no one to talk to. I went home, quiet; Upon arrival, my mother would ask me, looking at me worried: "How was the movie?" “Very good”, I would answer, and there it was all.

“Then we started college, and in it the flirtations with boys. I don't; for me it is impossible. I stay in my place, engrossed in a book, between classes, while they chat and laugh.

“The boys, already at our age, are less cruel, but they completely ignore me. Anyway, there is everything. For the nicknames are unique. Every nickname I find out about is a spike in my heart.

“And who would want to be seen with me?

“But the worst thing is myself. You see me as ugly, but I study Art History and I'm happy when I study it.

“I see wonderful paintings, perfect sculptures. I know very well that I could never be a decent model for someone.

“I love beauty, proportion, charm. Although in practice I am still far away, I would like to get at least a little closer”.

-Very well, says Doctor A when he stops talking. So what do you want, miss?

-Operate my nose, she tells him resolutely.

And adds:

"It's so personal, you know, if I had to go live my whole life on a deserted island, before leaving I would want to have an operation."

-Let's go see her, says Doctor A. Get on the stretcher.

The girl lies down, very nervous, expectant and hopeful. She feels that this may be the first moment of her new life.

Doctor A examines her nasal passages with a flashlight.

-Great, he says after a moment. The nose is very healthy. Even beneficial for you. As the ducts are very wide, you can breathe perfectly and it will be difficult for your nose to get blocked with colds, right?

-Yes, the girl answers with a small voice. I say no, she doesn't get stuck on me. I say yes, you are right, yes no.

Here I am going to allow myself a little imagination. Suppose.

-Well, look, miss. Her nose is a healthy organ, or rather, a very healthy one. I cannot operate on a healthy organ. I'm so sorry, miss.

And he withdraws for her to stand up, desolation in her soul.

-How much is it?

-No, nothing, says Doctor A. It was just an examination.

He watches her walk away, head down, big nose down, driving away tears. He feels sorry for her. But his prejudices prevent him from helping her.

They are prejudices. He has attended only to the physical reality of a healthy organ. But it has not attended to a perfectly fierce social reality. The girl has lost her childhood. Now he is about to lose his youth. Your nose is a terrible obstacle to being loved, valued, respected. Medicine could do a lot to restore you to at least a happy look in the mirror.

But Doctor A won't do what he can and knows.

For a year, the girl breaks down. She withdraws even more, but she no longer has the strength to study.

He just dreams. His face is like any girl's. He can go out into the street and even the masons on a construction site compliment him and even say rude words, but affectionate ones.

She knows for the first time what it is like to have a boy look at her, even for a moment, with a natural expression, without fear of mockery.

She doesn't ask for much, just to be able to integrate into normal life. Medicine could have done that, but Doctor A has refused, in the name of the fact that medicine cannot treat healthy people or interfere with them.

After a year, he hears about Doctor B, that he is a humane and sensitive man.

She bites the bullet and goes to see him.

She explains the same thing to Doctor A, plus the terrible anguish of this year.

Doctor B doesn't even recognize her.

-I can operate on you, miss.

Her heart is racing like a horse.

-The organ will be healthy, indeed, adds the doctor, but it causes him terrible mental pain, and objective personal damage. Medical intervention is possible, and therefore medicine has an obligation to intervene.

“We can remove that psychic pain, heal that objective damage. Medicine has to look at the health of the human being as a unit, as a whole, not organ by organ.

“These cases are significant. There is no pathology, there could be people who, in their same circumstances, knew how to get ahead, and even proud of themselves. Human variability is staggering.

“If you told me that you manage perfectly, that you have a boyfriend, for example, and that you want to have an operation just to see what could be something else, out of curiosity, I would operate on you, but I would warn you of the risks; an operation is not just anything, it is not a game thing; in the simplest operation, there is some risk.

“But for you, a healthy body is compatible with an unbearable mental and social situation. He suffers a lot, because of that situation. It is not a question of teaching him to accept his nose, when there is a suffering of many years that it is not known if it can be overcome.

“Medicine can do something and it has to do it, since it's easy, and that's it. One cannot talk about even the social situation being pathological without forcing the language, without using the word “pathology” as a metaphor for everything that does harm, even if one animal eats another.

“None of this is a disease, but medicine is necessary, because it can do something. Not when she says so, but when the person who comes to her asks for it. We don't have words to say this, but we'll make them up.

“There is nothing as easy as inventing a word. However, caring for people in need is difficult. I prefer to focus on that.

“You don't like your nose, it makes you suffer intensely, and that makes you look ugly, very ugly. It is not that it is objectively, there are flat towns and towns with big noses, but for you it is a fact that you do not adapt to it and that the combination of character-body-society, in your case, makes you suffer a lot and for very strong reasons, which is not easy to overcome. Not easy.

“Regardless of the fact that your nose, physiologically, is healthy and works and that other people do not pay attention if they find themselves in similar circumstances.

“I don't look at other people's reactions. I look at you, and I see that you have suffered a lot and continue to suffer. And it seems to me that you have reasons to suffer: you have an aesthetic sense and sensitivity; teasing and loneliness affect her a lot.

“All things considered, you can expect your life to improve considerably with an operation. That's why I'm willing to operate it."

The girl's eyes fill with tears of joy.

-And how much will it cost me?

I set this story in the sixties.

- It's so much.

The girl is terrified.

-My family doesn't have it.

- In other countries, the State already covers the expenses, in these necessary cases; Social Security already takes care of everything. In Spain, not yet, and I have to pay for the operation myself. I have to pay an anesthetist, a nurse, the rent for an operating room, the necessary medications...

The girl feels the threat of ice again. But she will fight. He will get the money from under the stones if necessary. He will work as much as he can and as he can. He will do raffles. Having a normal life is worth all the sacrifices and all the imagination.

-Very good, doctor, he says cheerfully. In a year or whatever, reserve the operating room for me.

Doctor B stands up and shakes his hand, smiling sympathetically at him. She leaves, buoyant.

-Hopefully Social Security will soon assume these expenses, the doctor thinks.

KimPérez 10-24-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Most of us need to be respectable, valued, loved. We also need to unfold our possibilities and advance in the general direction of our dreams, especially if they seem reasonable and possible to us. This requires that we project ends and means for our lives, in short, an ethic. I think now about the ethical direction of transsexuality.

Moment Zero. A person understands that he is transsexual. By then, it is an ethically neutral fact.

Moment One. The transsexual person must act in life and therefore choose an ethical direction. In principle, he usually has to choose between repression or expression.

The repression to dry stick is neuroticizing (Freud) To be effective, a great intensity of religious or philosophical life is required, and a free discussion with trustworthy interlocutors, which allows to rationalize or sublimate the impulses of expression. Otherwise, the repression will be difficult and precarious (18 years of poorly organized repression left me on the very brink of debasement, madness, and death, from which I recoiled in horror).

If expression is attempted, in its early stages, a) it can be well socialized, and moderated by social life itself, when there is family, school and work acceptance, or b) it can be done in solitary or clandestine conditions and by Therefore, it will be uncritically impulsive and traumatic. Poorly organized expression has also frequently led, in previous decades, to shame, loneliness, alcohol or drugs, and death.

Moment Two. Expression can lead to greater personal strength if it is guided, not by the force of impulses, nor by the simple rules of socialization, but by ethical reflection. Since socialized religion is often repressive, the direction of transsexuality can be achieved by an internalized and critical religion or philosophy.

The principles that guide this reflection may be the subordination of expression (without repression) to a great general, ethical or social combat. It is about relativizing the transsexual condition itself within the general human condition, so as not to absolutize it excessively to the point that it fills a lifetime (a single topic of conversation, etc.)

In this combat, the transsexual experience necessarily introduces the value of freedom, like all minority experiences, and that of subjectivity, in the face of any attempt at economic or social objectification.

Moment Three. Once the transsexual experience has been normalized, its overall critical assessment can also be attempted. The concept of gender binary underscores the binary character of the dependent concept of trans-sexuality, or closed passage from one binary pole to the other. The contraconcept of gender non-binarism introduces the notion of diffuse sets of gender as open realities and allows transsexuality to be understood as a transition with diverse but stable forms, as it has been intuited for millennia in concepts such as muxes, indigenous culture from Zapotecs.

KimPérez 10-10-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

When I wake up from a nap, I see a Discovery Civilization documentary about a village in the Amazon. It has been as if a window were open, or a wide door of those that are left open on hot days, and little by little I had entered it.

They are beautiful naked people, golden in color. The men, very well educated, the women, less (I say this objectively and without connotations of preference for men, which I don't have. The men and women of Thailand and Malaysia seem to me more balanced in a common attractiveness, a basic resemblance in which is dominated by a delicate female form)

The children, with rounded faces, eyes and lips, and long black hair, look naively from their hammocks. The first thing I realize is that it's not a shocking way of life; I would have adapted perfectly to live among them.

They have large open huts, very well made, almost a very refined chambao, as they say here on the beach, with a few vertical and transversal poles, covered with already dry and darkened branches, and some without partitions.

The men return from hunting, and they are happy because they have killed a great bird. A woman puts it to cook, perhaps, on a paella pan that seems to me to be made of blackened metal, over the fire. They eat it in large hemispherical bowls that must be the halves of some hollowed-out pumpkin.

They are all calm, peaceful, well behaved. They keep the forms of coexistence. They speak with calm voices and moderately. They don't scream.

I analyze the degree of civilization in which they are, and find that they are in one of the most primitive. They live by hunting and fishing, they have bows and arrows, I don't know if cassava or manioc or whatever, which they also eat, it's wild or cultivated, they don't wear clothes, they weave some natural fibers together, they know fire... Technically, they live in the upper Paleolithic or in the very first Neolithic, except for some acquisition or donation from the surrounding modern populations (the paellera, if it is made of iron).

It is well understood that it is not that they live “like” in the Paleolithic, it is that they live in it; In these last ten thousand extraordinary years, most of the peoples have transformed so much that we have reached the Moon, but the techniques have gone so far that they have not yet covered the entire planet, and there are vast regions in the Amazon, the Congo and New Guinea, precisely those of the jungles where our natural life is optimal, where it has not been necessary to change, and for this reason we still live like fifty or seventy or one hundred thousand years ago, as many as we humans have lived without leaving almost no trace.

We are both in the Information Age and in the Paleolithic; in other lost places, the Neolithic is still in force. This is the reality of our planet. Those arriving from others, a few thousand years ahead, will be stunned.

I find out that in this town they have polyandrous customs. The woman we are following has three husbands, the most recent by an arrangement made by the first husband. This is the strangest thing, but they carry it so naturally that I would have gotten used to seeing it right away. Now two of them are back from hunting. One goes to bed right away, to rest in one of their hammocks, in the common chambao.

Another of them is going to carry some food, in a bowl, to his old father, who is in his swinging hammock in another chambao. He is asleep when his son arrives and politely wakes him up, "Does something hurt, are you okay?" “Just the cough” “Don't you have a headache?” "No, the cough." “I brought you food” “Did you kill her?” "No, Suru" (his partner) "Where was he?", "In such a place", and then "It is that such birds know the sound of arrows from afar and leave", etc. A conversation that, if I had continued being a hunter, I would have had with my father, although talking about shotguns.

They live well enough. The men have very well-formed bodies, golden athletes, with a slit running the length of their backs separating their plump musculatures naturally. I'm curious to see his genitals, which are visible, but half wrapped in some plant fiber.

These women have very large and pendulous breasts, like bags, which oscillate in the air and almost float as they move; they seem somewhat false, compared to the slenderness of men; sometimes they are full on the underside, and have large thick black nipples.

They are all made ugly by a white cane or wood, about eight inches by four, which they wear under their lower lip. It makes them a very ugly profile, that prominent lip, and it makes it difficult for them to speak. I guess they won't pretend to be prettier with her, it will be for some magical reason.

As for the children, they are beautiful and even chubby; they are sufficiently fed first with their mother's milk and then with the natural resources found in the forest. They, fortunately, do not have to wear the white suit.

It seems that in these families it is known who the children of each parent are, it is not said how, but it does not seem like a very important piece of information. Everyone takes care of everyone. Later, at another time, we learn that the uncle of some of these children takes care of them like a father, as if they were few.

They are a town of about thirty or forty people. If anything, if I had to live in it, I would fear boredom. Everything seems routine and not very passionate. Assaults, says the voice that tells it, are rare. The sexual life seems to be satisfactorily regulated.

They perfectly know how to get everything they know they need: they get enough game and fish to have them very well eaten, they know how to scratch and wash manioc or manioc or whatever, they make arrows and the women decorate them, they weave with fibers of They leave the sifters and put a square frame on them, they adorn themselves with some precious headdresses made of a kind of cotton that they stick to the forehead with beeswax... It is a very full life, in which there is no lack of occupations, but without hurry , and no one forces anyone to do them. The hardest work is hunting or fishing and between us they are sports!

Men and women take care of the children equally, although the men go hunting or fishing and the women stay looking after the little ones, with the help of the older girls, or preparing cassava or cassava or what's his name But if I lived there, I wouldn't see an essential difference with what I'm used to seeing, especially when I lived here in the country, in a farmhouse. It's farmhouse life.

It is astonishing that, with the ten thousand years that separate us culturally, our life continues to be fundamentally similar, and above all we have not been able to overcome the most important problems that continue to plague them: fear of illness, old age , death.

We have solved some diseases, but we continue to dread others. We live longer, but not free from fear. And we continue to grow old like that man's father and not knowing everything about the mystery of death. If they came to our civilizations and, once recovered from the astonishment, they asked us about all this, we would have to tell them: "Well, we are like you." And a sudden humility would bring us closer to them.

Because, throughout our technical development, we have also added many agonies. The invention of agriculture brought back exhausting work, private property, inequality, slavery, and wars. That of the industry, the hours honked at, the proletariat covered in dust, the continuous noise. The contemporary, with the almost solitary burden of mortgages... We were better off as we were in the jungle of bird songs, and the rumor of the streams in which we could bathe every morning... Except for one point, which I will say later .

In such a rational and orderly life, although boring as they had, the time and the taboos and prohibitions that they had to dedicate to authentic nonsense is amazing.

At one point, one of the little girls has a fever. She's like asleep in her hammock, but it's a bad dream. Soon after, a baby is affected as well.

It's sad how helpless they are in the face of disease. They don't know everything (I suppose they know about some truly medicinal herbs, but in this town they don't distinguish between them and certain fantasies)

They wash the children, their little bodies whole, in the hope that the water will wash away the disease.

Later, as the outbreak of fever has also affected a neighboring town, I don't know if when the outbreak of fever ends on its own, to make sure, or for fear that it will affect the adults, they organize a complex ceremony, in which that the men make a kind of skirt with loose fibers of branches or bark, and the women put on beautiful headdresses made of a large rolled white bark; the men dance, and when they finish, they take off and throw their skirts forward, over the brush... with the hope of thus driving the disease out of the town.

The women of the two villages have prepared large quantities of fermented manioc drink, for only about four days, with very little alcohol.

They line up, carrying bowls of drink, and dance, turning their faces away, because they must not look at men from other villages. The men come closer, in turn, and drink heavily from the bowls.

To move away immediately, and vomit in streams, everything ingested. They vomit to... throw the disease out of themselves.

In short, naivete, promoted by anguish and ignorance.

These innocences also accompany birth rituals. You have to build a new hut, very well, for the future woman in labor. After giving birth, she must remain in it for a moon, for safety. Because? Well, because one has fantasized about it.

And then, the meeting between the mother and the father (designated I don't know how) has to take place.

The father has to get out of his cabin without stepping on the ground. For that, step by step, they put a manioc grating stone in front of it and then a sifter. Thus he slowly reaches a horizontal trunk, stepping first on one and standing on both feet, then the other, then both again, and sits down.

Then the mother arrives, alone, in the same way, step by step, The two utensils symbolize food, for the preparation of cassava.

When he sits down, a couple of meters from his father, the child is brought to him by his brother or brother-in-law, his uncle, who is like a godfather who will take care of him from now on.

This is certainly a beautiful liturgy, an expression of the greatness of the arrival of a new being, but the cameraman asks an old man why it is done this way, and he answers that “if not, it would bring bad luck; this has been done since very ancient times”; and the way to respond to this fear is pathetically naive.

How ignorant these primitive peoples are! This is the only thing that we have truly achieved over a few thousand years: that we have a science, an Astronomy, a Medicine, a Physics, a Mathematics... But we are the same as regards the fundamental problems: we still have a lot of fear, we keep getting sick, getting old, dying.

But at least we understand better what is happening to us, and we have solved many diseases in particular that in these other towns continue to kill them. That is what the anxieties and oppressions of the Neolithic, Antiquity, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the French Revolution, the Industrial Revolution have served for... Everything that our ancestors have gone through and these people from the Amazon have not yet had time to see...

They would jump in surprise if they knew everything that exists within a few hundred kilometers of where they live, in a simple town with electric light further down the river. But they are afraid and do not want to go that far. They will know that those from there bring them deadly diseases. In that limited town, the only thing that will allow them to get their feet out of it and go to other grandiose places, grander than electric light, will be dreams. There will be great dreamers and others who will not remember anything when they wake up.

As it is very small, and everyone must seek their lives, there will be no professional shamans, supported by others, nor does it seem in fact that there are. However, even if only under fevers, some will have visions or delusions, beyond dreams.

That will have been talked about. Even in our time, little has been studied. There is no "Visiology", despite the fact that all Theology is founded on them.

They do not lead to total ignorance about the rational, but they seem to open up other realities. For people so tied by their ignorance to a life always exposed and precarious, are they a hope?

I understand that thinking about this town becomes for me an unavoidable starting point to advance something in all our philosophy.

What would have become of me, if I had been raised among them, just as I am?

He would have sensed my eager curiosity. Perhaps I would have noticed the Moon, on quiet nights, as the documentary suggests, and perhaps I would have seen the curve of the shadow line in the rooms and correctly deduced that it is a sphere.

I would have told someone, and surely they would have been interested for a moment and then they would have forgotten, as I do in our civilization.

I would realize the transience of my thoughts. Perhaps he would have tried to fix them. He would have tried to draw the phases of the Moon and then a ball on a large green leaf, and realizing that he did not know how to give it the sensation of relief, he would have drawn a fruit with its own leaves at the end; or he would have formed four clay figures with the phases of the moon, ending in the final ball, and putting them in a green sheet folded like a case and fastened with thorns, but he would have had the same ephemeral success as before: curiosity, and I immediately forget.

As for my sexuality, if I were made the way I am, in the absence of clothes, men and women would inevitably seem like men and women, and I, necessarily, a man. I would feel my nuances, my disagreements, my ambiguities, but the evidence of the bodies would leave me with no escape.

I would have hunted, like I hunted in my teens. But puberty would have left me with a trail of surprises and distaste for the workings of my body, and a mismatch with the intimacies and subtleties of men's lives, which would seem to me, as they did in my real life, strange.

Without feeling similar to women, also a stranger, so focused on children, so passive and chattering, so many laughs at the right time and wrong.

But he would have felt longing for his quiet life in the town, limited to its limits, among the smoke that would calmly rise from the homes.

So much better for me than the dangerous outings of men on their hunting expeditions, in their sitting breaks in the jungle, where they would talk about things harsh and disagreeable to me.

Since I would have loitered so much, and shown so much reluctance after my first few hunts, perhaps they would have let me limit myself to fishing, something much calmer, which allowed me to get a little into the nearby trees and lose myself in them at the same time , but at the same time almost equivalent to staying in the town. The fish came to the pool where I was, among the clear waters; I didn't have to go looking for them.

He wouldn't really want to have sex with the women he saw in the village. But I would have looked thoughtfully at the young women, also somewhat ambiguous like me, still slender, with small breasts that would absorb my gaze, so firm, still different from the mothers with their big, floating bags, so unpleasant.

I would have realized that my attention was mesmerized by them; I would have wanted to kiss them, yes; sleeping by their side, very close to one of them, but only caressing each other with their lips; I'm not sure I would have wanted something as ugly and breathless as sex with them.

Of course, boys' sex would seem rough and ugly and unpleasant to me by comparison; I would not want to see or feel it; nor did mine.

I would certainly not want to have them as the boys had when they got married, nor to see their dedication, foreseen in the rumors of the open chambaos of the town. I would like to merge with them, be them, feel what they felt. On moonlit nights, perhaps I would have dreamed more than once, that I really was and that in my body there was no sad sex of reality.

Waking up later undone in sperm, a shame because it was the opposite of what I wanted.

The same as, like a joke, the desire to be like them would lead me to fantasize that the boys admired me and wanted me..

Once, after the rain that fell in the evening, when I got up in the morning, I would see a calm and clean puddle, and in it, when I got closer, my face for the first time, the great secret for primitive humans , who can see all the others, but they do not see themselves. And that face would not be so different from theirs, in its youth! That would be decisive, as the definitive expression of my desire, the consummation of the Fusion with the Image of the Woman in the Mirror, as we now call it. A tingling throughout my body, which would have reached the depths of my bowels, would have accompanied it.

It seems to me that I would have fallen into some kind of trap or deception. Or that I was missing something in my feelings so as not to fall into it.

From then on, I would have done the only thing in my power. Since the only difference in grooming that their culture allows them, in their nudity, is the haircut, carefully short and rounded for men, long and even with a ponytail for women, I would have let my hair grow, refusing to cut it off, despite the increasingly nervous instructions from each other.

In the Amazon, however, even without knowing it, people participate in a basic cultural attitude that is their own and different from those of other continents. It must be very old and come from the first ancestors that spread through those lands. It is the understanding that there are not only men and women, but also people who are in the middle, a reality that everyone respects.

One way or another, with a ritual or without it, they would have let me wear my hair long, like women. It is true that with that alone, my nudity was ambiguous, and in fact everyone would have treated me like a woman.

That would have also led to permission to stay among them, much to my satisfaction. It would suppress fishing, yes. It would have led me to take care of preparing the cassava and cooking it. I would resign myself and do my best.

It would have saved a part of my relationship with the girls I loved. Although visibly my condition would not interest them, they would not fail to keep a certain curiosity and a special, protective affection for me, very different from the misgivings they reserved for each other.

My gazes would continue to go to her full breasts; the girls would not fail to notice it, and they would laugh to themselves like flowers and deep down they would be pleased.

But at the occasional ceremonies, it would behoove me to put on the women's white headdress, and dance in their row, though with little conviction, and not without the amazement of outsiders from the other village.

I would have many moments, in the quiet of my life, to think about what I wanted.

I would have thought of the moon. He would have looked at her, in her resplendent nights, as the great mystery that awaited me after my death.

Subtle, like the chirping of the insects that accompanied it, rising and falling. Scandalous, like night owls.

He would also have heard an old man who knew the names of the fathers of the town, a hundred words, exactly repeated, with a singsong that helped to memorize them, while his hand kept the rhythm beating on the earth.

I would have learned them, also as a way of entering the night of time, of defeating oblivion, and suddenly I would have surprised everyone, repeating them.

Since then, I would be in charge of taking that memory to the next generation. I would not have children, but I would pass on to all of them their common memory.

And I would crave visions, not just dreams. She wouldn't get them. The closest I would get to them would be my amazing thoughts, but in the midst of the most total lucidity.

All this is what the documentary has not represented. Our life is remarkably simple and clear materially, but spiritually as complex and powerful as any human life.

What are the thoughts and feelings running through her? I don't understand men's. A little more, I imagine those of women. But I understand mine and I know that they leave me anxious that I can hardly achieve.

Human life is craving.

KimPérez 03-10-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

I watcha Chinese movie, “2046”. In one of those cramped Hong Kong hotels, in which the extremely narrow rooms are divided by trembling partitions, which cause an earthquake when the neighbors get together sexually, or a gentleman puts the evocation of the Italian opera at full volume, so as not to be heard. listen to your daughters' arguments.

Huge neon signs frame the reflective lives. “2046” is the number of one of those rooms, whose tenant loves her, remembering her life in it.

There is also the soundtrack of “Siboney” to accentuate the nostalgia of this story.

Long scenes in which the automatisms of human sexual tension, the mechanisms of courtship, are clearly seen. They are perfectly logical, predictable, limited and boring. The scriptwriter knows very well how. I know why.

The appearance can be even fictional. The protagonist, a man named Dabao, feels the intense attraction of a very young neighbor (I think her name is Ping) in his room.

Unable to contain himself, he goes to his door, old wood painted yellow, and knocks.

She opens. He is a smiling thirty-something, with naturally narrowed eyes and a big mustache, a bit cocky. He smiles continuously and says some superficial niceties. The halo of desire perspires on her sweaty skin and her smile advances her body.

She is like a green almond, skin clear, lips parted in an expectant half-smile, eyes analytical, dressed with provocative care. She can smell the artificial scent of the cosmetic.

She says no to the man's greetings and even pushes him out of the room.

At that time, in my youth, it would all have ended for me, with a strong feeling of shame. I would have expected that contact would have been immediately established based on mutual affinity. A spontaneous sympathy and without complications. Any refusal would have made me desperate.

Naturally, in this story, desire is still wrapped in denials and defiant smiles. I would not have known how to continue. My little desire would not have made me insist. Dabao, between smiles, insists.

It looks like a laughing comedy, but it's profoundly serious, even pathetic. For this reason, at other times, the frustrated desire immediately turns into aggressiveness, because there are no smiles in it, no tenderness, or softness. With the Dabao style, one fears at every moment that desire will turn into violence, but it doesn't happen that way, perhaps because the man is naturally smiling.

I don't know if it's another day, in which everything starts again, or at the same moment, below. His desire does not cease. She sincerely puts him to the test, between smiles, with the automatisms of refusal and rejection.

The unconscious animal purpose of both sexual conduct, of all sexual conduct in all species, is the procreation of a child. The affective union, the camaraderie of pleasure, are human additions that may or may not be missing. In us it seems that the main thing is pleasure for pleasure. But nature has not organized such a complex apparatus of organs and functions just for us to have fun, rather so that under the pretext of fun (pleasure) we can go where she wants us to go.

He wants to pour his sperm into her and she wants to welcome him to be fertilized and shelter the future creature. But before he needs to verify the sexual strength of the suitor, her constancy, her ability to be present with her to protect the child in formation. Nature knows this very well and produces all the force of the instincts. In Europe we have forgotten it, wrapped up in our cultural speculations. In that hotel in Hong Kong, the force of desire and pleasure in both of them makes them follow the ritual, automatically, even if it fades and extinguishes like another adventure in the big city.

Ping, little by little, is opening the door and his body to Dabao. Her attitude is sinuous, snakelike, passive, as if she is preparing herself for the sinuousness of the movement of the union, when she arrives.

She continues to be negative and fugitive. But this is provided for by female sexuality. Denial and escape are only apparent. In reality, they are already fixed on each other, they maintain an absorbed, fascinated attention, that of attraction. Denials and leaks are only feints; she doesn't go away, nor does she jerk away, but stalls, waits enticingly, without ceasing to smile sensually.

At one point, she runs away laughing, and like a game, she hides behind the door, where he pulls her out, hugging and kissing her. It's an ugly game, because you know where she's going. I would not be able to do it, because the significance of the man's presence does not sufficiently motivate me. I do not intend to extract a spermatozoon from it to give biological meaning to my existence. I do not desire it. All this bores me.

However, it's true that I find it easier to put myself in her place and understand her motives. Putting myself in his place would only mean understanding the need to unload my body inside her. I don't feel it and especially what is inside. Appropriate her as if she were a butterfly clean as a flower, which I make mine by sticking a punch into it? This is ridiculous.

In me there is at least the anatomical capacity to receive Dabao's dagger. I got it surgically, but I wanted it under the guise that I didn't want the other form in myself. The few times I have submitted to sexuality in my life, I have always been passive. Even for lack of desire. It is easier to let the man work in the union than to undertake that work myself. When I let myself be carried away by fantasy (it was last summer, for a whole month and a half, consecutive, day and night), from the center of my body the circular movements of the union have arisen alone, the vortex that awakens and he feels within himself the vertex that provokes it. But to go so far as to show her preparation in flirtatious behavior, from meticulous grooming to languid walking through the streets of Hong Kong at night, in the company of my man, no.

Although if I were aware of my youth and my beauty, if the image that the mirror returned to me was surprising and perfect, surely yes. I would then have the feeling that the arrangement would be worthwhile, and the sinuosity of my own movements would be born of myself and by myself. It is true that I would not pay much attention to the man who walked by my side. Until it seemed like a reality bigger than me. That could happen or not.

On the night out, Ping is still far away. They walk together, but in parallel. Her soft face, her sensual lips, do not turn towards him, do not smile at him.

Dabao gets drunk in bars. They return by taxi. His head falls asleep on her shoulder, and his hand rests on her thigh, already at the height of her knee. She, lucid, looks out the window, thoughtfully. She is self-absorbed, communication with him is broken. It's easy to tell what she's thinking: she feels sorry for herself, she feels like a failure. Gently, so that Dabao doesn't wake up, he raises her hand with his black-gloved one with silver embroidery, and pushes it away. The journey continues. She has left her sad hand on her knee. Then Dabao brings his hand closer again and puts it on top of hers. Hand over hand.

The movie continued, but I had no desire to continue watching it. I got up to do I don't know what in the kitchen, and I didn't know how it would end.

KimPérez 09-26-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Nature is our biological or animal component. It is usually defined as XX or XY, but not always; there is also X0 and many other variants.

In the prenatal age, a universal asexuality, visible in both nipples and the genital tubercle in all fetuses, later receives a flow of androgens of variable intensity depending on the presence of the second X chromosome or the Y chromosome (or more). exactly, of the SRY gene within it) If there is an X chromosome, androgenation is less and the fetus becomes feminized and if there is a Y chromosome, androgenation is greater and the fetus becomes masculinized.

But this variable androgenation in terms of large spurts can also vary in detail. Each of the great jets can be larger or smaller. In addition, it seems that it does not happen in a single moment, but in several; for example, the genitals are configured at a different time than the brain. It may be that the genitalia are strongly configured as male or female and that the brain is less strongly configured or cross-defined with respect to the genitalia.

When this happens, a girl with a masculine temperament or a boy with a feminine temperament will be born.

So much for biology. Humans also have the ability to form concepts or abstractions by finding common elements between various realities.

The concept we form about who we are is our identity.

One of the basic dimensions of our identity is sexual-gender (biological + social)

Most people, from a very young age, have no difficulty in forming it. I am going to distinguish between them two classes, those that form their identity autonomously and those that form it heteronomously.

The first ones observe themselves, especially in terms of temperament (preferences, affinities...), they observe others and who they are similar to or who they are not. This is how they establish their gender identity, because it is based on the social, cultural and behavioral aspects.

I speak of gender identity and not of sex, because it is very worth mentioning that, in our clothed society (it would be another thing if we continued in primitive nudity), the observation of the genitals tends to be later. Three-year-olds, for example, are often unaware of them.

For this reason, most of the people who form a firm gender identity include some transsexual people who fully identify with a gender, regardless of whether or not it corresponds to their genitality. Growing up, and discovering it, shocks them, and they usually form the hope that it will change on its own with development. In any case, in their consciousness, identity prevails over genitality.

The second part of people, those who form their identity heteronomously, follow social opinion. “You are a boy” or “you are a girl” are the pillars of their identity and they follow them faithfully.

In addition, as they grow up, they may discover some temperamental elements (“I like what men like, or what women like”) that ratify that identity. The discovery of the genital difference confirms his identification.

However, some of the people who have formed a heteronomous identity may also discover over time that it does not quite fit their nature.

Suppose you have formed a masculine identity and yet, growing up, discover that your preferences and affinities are only partly or not quite like those of most men.

This can be quite common, but is usually assimilated without giving it much thought; “I don't like soccer; so what?”, for example; however, it seems that there is a critical threshold at which these differences then become very important and even distressing.

These differences may not occur in the entire space of preferences and affinities, but in only a part of them, but they are considered sufficiently significant and personally valuable.

So, there is a mismatch between nature and identity. This is either inadequate or simplifying. Let us remember that our culture is very binary, that is, it does not recognize validity except the conceptual pair of "men" or "women". For this reason, he simplifies, and does not assume with sufficient respect, nor can he conceptualize the most complex situations.

Note also that there is no essential difference between people who have always had a cross-identity and those who later form it. What differs is only the way of arriving at it, autonomously or heteronomously, by own observation or by social assignment, which later turns out to be simplistic or inadequate.

Inadequacy is always due to the limitation of our concepts that limits our identities. A binary culture like ours offers us only two possible identities, one or the other, and if not one, then the other. We would have to form, assimilate and memorize other concepts that correspond to our complexity. Our mental and emotional balance is at stake, because we have to find our truth, the "adaptation of understanding to reality", in Aristotelian terms.

The term trans-sexual, if we wrote it that way, would imply the transition from one of the two binary sexes to the other, which would seem inappropriate to me; reality is more complex and needs concepts, names that express it and that are charged with emotions and connotations equivalent to those of “man” and “woman”. Transsexual will be valid if we understand that it already expresses that complexity and that, sufficiently rooted in our culture, as it already is, it also inspires emotions and connotations just as it is, complex and subtle.

KimPérez 09-19-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

THmy mother's death has made me look closely at the end of life and has definitively opened me a meditation on my appreciation of transsexuality, which I needed for a long time; I can speak better of my ambiguity, or to situate it in all its intensity, of the trans fact, a voluntarily ambiguous word.

Pain makes us enter into a harsh situation that clears up false illusions and puts our feet back on reality. Thanks to him, you can continue living with much greater solidity.

I naturally cling to my body, just as it is now; I actually cling to the skirt I'm wearing, because it's the proof that makes many think that I'm not exactly the man I still seem to them; I cling to my new name, so short, so loud and so ambiguous; but there are extensive parts of my life that do not correspond to what they should correspond according to what transsexuality itself is, the full will to be recognized or recognized as a person of an apparently different sex.

The vision of transsexuality itself continues to be that of “anima mulieris in corpore virile inclusa” or “anima virilis in corpore mulieris inclusa” We have generalized it to all manifestations of gender dysphoria and people who could be defined as ambiguous or trans, that we are not in it, we keep silent, for fear of not being legitimized within our very small community, that of people who keep ways of being similar, but not the same.

Forgive me, the many other people who feel fully identified with that definition, who from an early age have known that you are girls or boys despite all the evidence, that in the first case you have cried with very deep emotion, very true, when your ears were pierced to wear earrings or you put on a dress, and whom I envy, for the clarity and purity of your feelings. I don't talk about you and you because I don't know, to comply with the principle that makes me not talk about what I don't understand from within. Little, in this study, is addressed to you and you, because I consider that I should talk about what it has to do with people who are like me. I address them, with the feeling that, deep down, we have rarely been talked about, we have rarely been looked at, understood and respected in our subtlety and uniqueness.

Once we have followed the too-simple steps with which today the process of ambiguity, or trans, is understood, homogenizing it as trans-sexual (hormonation and operation), we all look alike on the outside. Our stories may have some common trunks, but they are very different. The story of a boy who feels like a girl is different from the story of a boy who feels ambiguous and different from the other children; These few words contain many experiences, feelings, games, perspectives, which are different, but which are diluted in adulthood, when we assume a social identity.

I have remembered today, writing to a friend, my identification, when I was about ten years old, with the boy protagonist of the movie "Captains Intrepid", by Spencer Tracy. He was very similar to me (dark hair, in soft waves, large black eyes, almost feminine face, very handsome) and his story was that of his defenselessness (he had fallen into the sea from an ocean liner) and paternal protection by a Portuguese crew member of a fisherman (Spencer Tracy), who sang to him "Oh my little fish, don't cry anymore / oh my little fish stop crying", and taught him to be the cabin boy of the fishing boat... It touched me deeply, it made me cry with deep emotion, and I realize that it was because of seeing him how I saw myself, a child and at the same time very feminine, very eager for paternal protection, very delicate and wanting to find myself protected in subordinate but tender jobs like that of a cabin boy.

The distinction between the feminine identity and the masculine identity with a feminine nature, which in fact we keep silent about when we can talk about it, for fear of being different among the different, of not being accepted by our peers, made me accept Silencing generalizations with which I was described, which made me fear lying with my silence. This, in fact, I have had to do continuously. When I had surgery, I just wanted to get rid of genitals that seemed strange and ugly, unbearable. The surgeon interpreted that I wanted with the same intensity that my genital area was reshaped in a feminine way. I did not dissuade him, for fear that he would not understand me and would not want to operate on me.

This silence about my nature has made me worry about it for a long time, with feelings of doubt and latent guilt; The result has been that, as time went by, and that shell of doubts accumulated, it has become more and more difficult for me to speak from the heart about transsexuality, to write about facts that were not legal or social, or to advise people with all my soul. that, due to my very silence, I was not used to thinking that they were going through the same thing as me, that they were truly my peers.

A few days ago, I had even thought about writing a general theory of transsexuality, with the aim of clarifying my thoughts; but this cool August morning, as I woke up with an equally fresh head, I thought that I will not stay calm until I look face to face with all the possibilities, even those of No.

What would have happened to me if I had said No to transsexuality, as I had done for the previous eighteen years, when I decided to give up all transsexual hope and turn all my attention to other pains, not mine but my own? humans in general?

I know that I could have said no at the last moments, when the operation was drawing near, almost twenty years ago; I would see her near, when the moon shone on the cold November night as we traveled along the lonely road, and I would be silent; and then, in the bunk on the train that was taking me to the operating room, I thought it was the last chance to say No and get off and return to Madrid.

I found no reason to say No that last night and moved on.

My process had started early, from the age of eight, when I realized that I wasn't in my place at the boys' school, then at nine, when a phimosis radically made my naive genitalia ugly, finally around thirteen, when in my puberty I understood that I did not want to be counted among men; then followed years and years of coming and going, which filled me with doubts; and then came the will, to dry, to say no to my feelings, so obsessive. I had to take care of other people, not myself.

But gradually that will to attend to what is human (but outside of my own) that sustained me well or badly for eighteen years sank. It is true that the terrible silence had continued to accompany me, that I could not speak calmly to anyone about my feelings, that they demanded at least expression, and that I only found her writing to myself, obsessively, trembling with excitement, twelve hours a day. day, until I saw that I was on the verge of madness and even death.

I was not capable, of course, of giving so much force to the No, that it would have sustained me. Perhaps I would have achieved it if I had been able to go to Africa as a missionary, and I would have seen that my life had to do with the life or death of other people, but I had so many doubts about that too, that it was impossible for me.

Maybe, having someone to talk to about me, seriously, I would have found peace to promote a celibate and very dedicated life; Perhaps, over time, I would have motivated it, beyond my feelings, by fidelity to what was received, to a healthy organism that should continue to exist in its entirety, to social recognition of that reality above a denial of principle.

This attitude of general acceptance of the biologically healthy and balanced as biologically healthy and balanced would be very painful for a dysphoric person, but I would have lived it as a secondary dimension of my life, in which the priorities would have been other, justifiably.

Maybe at some point I would have been able to overcome my strongest identity fear, that of having a child as a boy, and I would have even been able to get married and have children! A few years ago, I found myself thinking that if I had lived in a house surrounded by a beautiful garden, by bushes among the cool earth, by trees where children could climb, I would have endured being married (albeit with little desire) and having children, as if the nature that surrounded us had impregnated me with its impersonal force even to me!

I would have thought then that our nature, as we have received it, infinitely subtle and complex, deserves to be considered, to open up its possibilities, instead of being collapsed through hastily decided hormonal and surgeries and in conditions of turbulent feelings.

The strength of this argument would be that it would give all its value to the stability of our organism, and to the confidence in the wisdom of its predetermined balances, above feelings that are variable by nature.

I'm talking about denial and sacrifice, but not outright, as I was forced to try, but looking for compensation, even those of the house with its plants and trees. Even so, there would still be a violent emotional shock with those feelings of dysphoria, resurfacing with each television show, with each moment of weakness or failure in my other perspectives.

However, many dysphoric people, disabled by their circumstances, or simply fearful of the enormity of the transsexual process, have chosen and will choose this option, so I am not talking about anything speculative, but real in many lives. And so morally strenuous, that it cannot be delegitimized on principle.

By the way, I have to insist that this refusal should not simply mean repression. The terrifying experience of my decades of silence and isolation makes me say so. The feeling that pure and simple repression would arouse in me would be very similar to that of a moral confinement, the internal prison in which I have been without palliatives, searching without ever finding some open doors. Claustrophobia, in a word.

Freud was right: simple repression, the dry cut, is a source of neurotic outlets. It is necessary to somehow channel those feelings.

For this reason, the No that I could have given would have to be accompanied by a series of conditions: full awareness of my dysphoria, full freedom of conversation, full understanding, full support, full dedication to causes that would relativize it.

However, this radical option would be discouraged and delegitimized by nature itself when there is evidence of natural ambiguity or intersex, which would explain the sex or gender dysphoria. I have found in myself repeated evidence of that ambiguity or little sexual definition, of strangeness before men and more before women, although more affinity in my way of being with them than with them.

In the very terms of the option for respect for nature, it could be argued that this personal nature is ambiguous and that it must be respected in its complexity and balance, which includes ambiguity.

It will have been seen that for me I prefer the name of dysphoric person (more of sex than gender), which is that of a feeling, or that of trans, which is happily ambiguous, and expression of the same ambiguity, more appropriate for me that of trans-sexual, which is the one that corresponds to other people.

I anticipate that everything that follows will be understood only as overcoming the binary of sex and gender (it assumes that there are only men and women), which, by not recognizing our existence, has done so much damage to non-binary people; everything I expose from here is the proclamation that reality is non-binary, because although the majority is made up of men and women (even transsexuals), there are also people who are more or less ambiguous.

Based on the desire to preserve as much as possible both the integrity of the organism as it is, and the emotional balance of the dysphoric person, it follows that gender dysphoria must have both a precise awareness of its dimensions and an adaptation Of the consequences.

Accurate awareness refers to a detailed self-analysis, with the help of a professional or not, to come to a clear view of what feels like and shapes one's own personality, and what doesn't feel and isn't personal .

In this matter, collective prejudices about what we feel are frequently experienced, both by the community that does not deeply understand what dysphoria is and by dysphoric people themselves who get carried away by other people's opinions. The most generalized, almost with the value of an aphorism, is the one that we have seen that defines all dysphoric people with the concept of “anima mulieris in corpore virile inclusa” or “anima virilis in corpore mulierisinclusa”, sometimes very appropriate but for us no, because it only talks about “vires” and “mulieres”.

In addition to this distinction between men, women and ambiguous people, you can also see the complexity of the reality of dysphoric people by looking at this very simple diagram. Dysphoric people are divided into two large classes:

=Those who focus their dysphoria on gender (and therefore do not focus on genital surgery); and

=those who focus their dysphoria on the genitals (and therefore do not focus on gender issues)

The word “focus” is chosen because it is very descriptive. It does not express that the rest does not interest, but that it can be relativized.

Regarding the concept of adequacy of consequences, I mean a method that consists of adjusting personally and socially to the reality of dysphoria and its foundations, seeking personal balance by adequacy of causes and consequences, not through the maximalist acceptance of stereotyped models of sex and gender. A method that values ​​prudence, in such a difficult and nuanced issue in practice.

It seems that some degree of expression can be shown to be natural and necessary, if not committed. To the extent that gender-sex dysphoria may be due to a natural variation in brain androgenization during pregnancy, it will amount to intersex at the brain level, and it will naturally be expressed as intersex.

Presenting this concept for reflection is of course essential, since right now, our cultural situation is the opposite: a permissiveness that leads to maximization; suffix "ism" that indicates the cult of permission and impulse above all reflection, tends to favor any desire and nullify all prudence.

I take for example the issue of minor gender variants. The experience of follow-up studies carried out in the last decades shows that a strong desire to change sex in the first years of life has a great chance of evolving towards homosexual and even heterosexual attitudes in the following ones.

To give the minor time to evolve, the following strategy has been designed: they are allowed to live according to the desired sex, they are even helped to go to school with the corresponding clothes and grooming; When the time comes, she is administered a puberty arrest treatment, which must be extended for years, until the legal age, at which time she can decide on herself; and it is observed that then, in what proportion?, can decide to renounce the change of sex (data obtained from Dr. Domenico di Ceglie, at the Transiti Colloquium, in Bologna, in 2000)

This strategy is rational; however, understood permissively, it can be broken if the minor, around the age of thirteen, expresses all his impatience to evolve bodily at the same time as people his age, and his anguish for a neutralizing treatment that prevents it. This anguish, in adolescents, can have dramatic expressions and also dramatizations. I've seen a tendency to flout those precautions and give them hormones or irreversible surgeries early in life without realizing that their decisions later on could be much more nuanced.

Strict respect for the rationality of this strategy must be considered, knowing that its meaning is waiting and opening up all possibilities; no default output is defined in it; correctly, these minors are identified as “gender variants” and not as transsexuals; the freedom of dialogue with parents, siblings, friends or professionals must be fundamental; and the modulations that their identity could have in a culture other than ours, binary, could be considered.

Because this allusion to modulations supposes the concepts that we have been able to establish about the reality of the gender binary that torments us. It would even be possible to say that dysphoria is a direct consequence of the gender binary.

In this word, the suffix “ismo” also expresses the tendency to absolutize and maximize gender differences; masculine and feminine are stereotyped, leaving no room for ambiguities that are an indisputable part of the reality of each person and a central part of the reality of some people.

It is true that masculinity and femininity can be idealized and deserve to be as an expression of beautiful feelings and useful for procreation; subjective, inalienable masculinity or femininity; but in addition, this idealization also appears, spontaneously, in others, as a form of sexual desire; objectively valued masculinity or femininity.

But if there is some natural ambiguity, consequence of androgen levels differentiated from the average, it could be considered as a natural form of balance that constitutes certain organisms, and therefore respected in itself.

Other considerations would show it as a form of adaptive variations, which we now know to be biologically important.

Since the ambiguous people to whom I refer are or have been biologically fertile, this fertility, which objectively and subjectively may one day be desired, should not be renounced maximally. We are the ones who can only assess the opportunity for medical intervention Endocrine or surgical, only we can adequately weigh our feelings and our reasons.

We can assess that it is the only known medical procedure that overcomes dysphoria; it has surpassed mine, it has restored my balance and well-being; but it does not stop being a chemical interference, with the metals and the anesthesia of a surgical intervention. Something softer could be desired. The ambiguous people recognized in cultures such as Zacatecas (muxes), Samoa or Ecuador do not renounce fertility or marriage. Full social recognition, family respect, a flowered dress and a feminine arrangement are enough for them. All this affirms socially what they want to affirm. They can love men or women or I suppose both or other ambiguous people like them. It is not strange, for example among the "mom-men" of Ecuador, an exceptional attitude in ours like that of Thomas Beatie, a masculinizing transsexual who, nevertheless, has decided three times to get pregnant and give birth.

Faced with the open and relaxed nature of the forms of social ambiguity of these cultures, the binary of ours only understands rigid forms, extreme in their dualism; the choice of a name becomes something to be on guard against, and "my" name becomes "our" name; if the State consents to the hormone and operation, they must be undertaken under a regime of bureaucratic permits and medically verifiable only by the degree of submission to stereotypes (Thomas Beatie does what he wants, and the States tend to look at that repressively)

The maximalist attitude of our culture on this issue cannot be maintained, because it obeys an ideological binary of sex and gender that ignores the complexity of reality.

It would be possible to educate the minors we are talking about in valuing their ambiguity for what it is, and in the understanding that it would not be necessary for them to take it as far as a transsexual intervention.

I realize that I am giving, for us, ambiguous people, a no to the attempt to make a binary transition from one sex to the other, and only from one sex to another, while I proclaim a yes to the recognition of ambiguity, that it corresponds better with the prefix “trans” than with the intense meaning of the word “trans-sexual”, which should be reserved for other realities.

There is no need to fear that this defense of ambiguity, together with the mistrust of binaryism, will become repressive. Binaryism is the repressor, by proposing life models that require enlistment in two unique sexual forms. The defense of ambiguity is the necessary and sufficient step to ensure an open social attitude that avoids falling into a repressive closure. The defense of ambiguity requires the same or more constant energy than any other defense of minority rights threatened by majority impulses that They tend to deny them.

It does not seem true, for me (and perhaps for people like me), to understand myself in terms of trans-sexuality, understood as a full transition from one sexual form to another, because it seems to me that for me and for people like me it is an extreme and unreal solution. It is an expression of binaryism, which does not want to conceive that there are ambiguities, or non-stereotyped masculinities and femininities.

This desire to maximize the consequences of sex-gender dysphoria is not only social; it is also given by two mental automatisms that accompany it, but that are distinguishable from it.

The first is the feelings of phobia that can be generated by the traumas that may have accompanied the dysphoric biographies. These traumas may have been born from a feeling of deep maladjustment, in conditions in which one cannot even talk about it (binarism) and even less find a form of expression; terrible loneliness in which we have seen many dysphoric people; or they can come from the same social interaction, in the form of rejections, teasing or aggression.

The trauma of rejection, in particular, can create feelings of rejection in the dysphoric person towards masculinity or femininity and towards their symbols, including clothing that sentences a belonging or the genitals themselves in their function of symbols.

Once a phobia is constituted and not limited, it tends to take extreme forms.

The second fact that leads to the maximization of the consequences is the opposite of the phobia, the paraphilia that can accompany the dysphoria but can be distinguished from it. Ray Blanchard, supported by Anne Lawrence, have given it the name of autogynephilia, coming to see in it, mistakenly, the central cause of a large number of transsexualities (of dysphoria, it should be said).

In XY heterosexual people, the consequence of gender-sex dysphoria can be, first, the phobic rejection of masculinity to which I have referred, which produces an extreme identity vacuum that calls, secondly, to what has been typified as Fusion with the Image of the Woman in the Mirror; that Woman is the Archetypal (young and attractive)

This paraphilia, by its very nature of sexual fantasy, is maximizing in the sense that it tends towards orgasmatic fulfillment. She tries to embody that Image of a Woman to the maximum, practicing an imaginary loop in which the dysphoric person is both the subject and the object of desire. The Mirror becomes, at the same time, the space in which that image is materialized, dragging the dysphoric person with all its power to do everything possible to see it in its fullness.

From here endless actions are born for the materialization of that attractive woman, since the paraphilias are by themselves endless when they err in the sexual object. An infinite series of plastic surgery operations can be carried out, aimed at transforming the starting material into the perfection of desire. At least make-up and arrangements are made that show through their sexy style the meaning to which they correspond. This is why transsexual people have often been described as "more women than women", or accused by the feminist movement of "extreme traditional gender roles".

To make matters worse, since these attitudes come from sexual desire, when the hormone that tries to shape that femininity, in the manner of Pygmalion, has achieved its maximum effects, the sexual drive decays and all this obsessive process loses all interest , leaving the person who has committed to it on the verge of feeling disappointed, depressed and guilty.

However, as I have been saying, this process must be distinguished from dysphoria, which subsists intact after the failure of the Fusion attempt with the Image of the Woman in the Mirror.

In effect, the awareness of maladjustment, which can be objective, and the paraphilic, subjective attempt at a solution that interferes with it are completely different. But the necessary personal balance can be compromised if you don't know how to make this distinction.

These internal causes of maximization, drives, a phobia and a paraphilia, are therefore permanent and accompany and will always accompany sex-gender dysphoria, like two uncontrolled sisters that tend to disturb it. But there are also external causes that have favored maximization at this time when all or almost all sexual expression has been legalized without further consideration of its structures.

The generation of the permissive sixties culture, which is extending until the beginning of this century (about thirty or forty years), has contributed, in the dysphoric people themselves, to the generalization of the trans-sexual process, carried to its last stages. consequences.

The reasons for this fact of maximization have been based on the replacement of Freud's perspective, more prudent, and attentive at the same time to non-repression and the "reality principle", by that of Reich and Marcuse, that is to say, by a radical ideological, political supposition, more than psychological: the sexual revolution, or sexpol, has advocated the liberation of all sexual drive in the form in which it is presented to the conscience, even the cruelest or most abject ones, without analysis or reconsideration, understood as a means of transgression of all norms, the essence of the permanent revolution. Thus, a brutal imaginary has been created, which has strengthened Marx's dialectical ethics, that of systematic confrontation, present not only in radical groups.

By opting for the adequacy of the dysphoric expression and not for its maximization, a serious conflict with binaryism arises.

The latter always prefers the maximization of expressions of sex-gender. Paradoxically, he prefers radical transsexuality to ambiguity, at least in XY dysphoric people. I am not speaking speculatively, but based on practical experience. XY dysphoric people who opt for ambiguous forms of expression are often attacked by those who value masculine expression and seen as a danger to their values. Bullying, insults and contempt are usually the experiences in the face of any manifest ambiguity. You need to be very strong to bear it (or very forceful and aggressive to neutralize it, as I have seen in some people). On the other hand, the attacks usually subside (without ceasing altogether) when the ambiguity is abandoned and a difference is manifested. radical through a feminine expression (which usually requires the use of a skirt) Then, condescension usually replaces aggression.

This would make it convenient to assess the transvestite fact as a transactional resource. I speak of a transvestite in the sense of someone who uses a defined gender code when trying to express an ambiguity. It is not a lie, however. First, the ambiguous identity of the cross-dresser is often obvious to others, so their cross-dressing does not actually signify masculinity or femininity, but a confirmation of their ambiguity. Secondly, when this ambiguity is so defined (ambiguity itself can be defined) that it is not perceptible as such, it would be a legitimized defensive resource to defend personal balance against aggression.

And in any case, cross-dressing differs from trans-sexuality in that it can keep organic balances and allows a space to solidly settle the psychics.

I call transvestite, in the fullness of the concept, the action that does not necessarily consider hormones or genital surgery and therefore does not affect fertility. It can integrate, however, minor actions, such as hair removal, hormonal therapy to reduce or avoid androgenic baldness, plastic surgery or even mammoplasty (in XY people) or omastectomy (in XX people), which, in general, are interventions that follow the principle of adequacy and therefore are transactional.

When there was no hormones or surgery, in certain cultures the consequences of dysphoria were adapted by publicly adopting an ambiguous personality, which made evident what they wanted to express. This is what was done in non-binary societies like the ones I have mentioned in Samoa, Zacatecas (muxes) and Ecuador, and I want to leave these lines with their memory.

KimPérez 05-09-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

I've spent a few weeks absorbed in one of the most painful events of my life, and I'm still under the influence, quite locked in myself. I have entered a new era in which I also see my transsexual activism transform.

Now it's completely personal. I totally disregard the political lines that up to now I have respected, because, being necessary, they now continue on their own; instead, personal voices are needed that speak for themselves, and that consider that the other transsexual people are no longer the militant comrades but the sisters whose fate is similar to yours.

I'm so wrapped up in myself, I don't really feel like talking. Actually, I would prefer to live my life now, worrying only about the clear afternoon of the setting sun, about the cool breeze, about my still pulsating existence in these hours...

I'm your sister, but right now I'm not a loving sister. It seems to me that it would be legitimate for me to say to you: "Now, make do as you can and let me live my life, feeling only the intrigue and enigma of every minute." I don't know why I write. Because your lives and mine are similar when it comes to going out.

Because it is enormous to feel the urge to change sex. And yet we feel it. Could I have mastered it? Yes, at the risk of remaining a blank paper for the rest of my life. No feelings, no flow of life, not wanting what was coming, not feeling anyone by my side...

I still don't understand myself well, I've barely been able to advance a few meters in self-understanding. They insist that I am actually quite feminine, more than I think, quite maternal... Everyone, in fact, has called me "aunty", or tells me that I am like their mother, and lately like their grandmother ...

It may be, but this way of being may not be exclusive to women. I, of course, do not see myself as being as much as a woman. I don't see in myself the reflections that women have in television commercials, so psychologically studied to move them and to make them spend a lot of money. They don't move me, I'm not like them. For example, I do not want the stable company of a man, his protection. I would suffocate.

I love boats, the immensity of the sea, freedom...

I'm more of a sexless boy. No genitals. That is part of my freedom.

Not having anyone in front of me, cutting my horizon.

The beautiful mist that forms in the evenings over the horizons.

If anything, by my side, kissing and caressing. Someone like me; also a boy without sex or a girl without sex.

That's why I needed surgery and I did. But note that the need for the operation does not mean maximum femininity in the person undergoing surgery, because in my case it is almost the minimum. It is something else, which I have tried to explain. We can understand it, some transgender people. Psychologists, who live on our explanations but then ignore us, do not understand, of course. For this reason, I was lucky to have surgery at a time when there were only private surgeons and you could basically do what you wanted, since "whoever pays is in charge."

The real need for the operation, in transsexuality, has nothing to do with the degree of femininity (or masculinity) of the candidate.

I'm even going to say that many (not all, I guess) of the most deeply feminine transsexual people (and I'm going to say some of the most deeply masculine ones as well) don't need the operation.

They are the ones who know from the age of three that they are women or men, respectively. With such certainty, it's almost scary, it almost seems like a matter of reincarnation.

They've never felt anything else. They have never wanted the Kings to bring them anything other than a doll or a truck.

They have not been able to bear that, at First Communion, they were presented in society with the finery corresponding to the sex that apparently corresponded to them. They have cried or have kicked when it comes to going to the store and discovering the suit that awaited them. It was not fair. It wasn't real.

Perhaps, when they found out what sex is, they have prayed fervently, and with total purity, to wake up and that what was there was not there.

They have fallen in love many times, with their companions or with their companions, contrary to what was expected, even the interlinings. A trans friend imagined them as Jane, and he was Tarzan, rescuing them.

I certainly haven't experienced any of that.

But I was very surprised when one of those people, now adults and free, told me "I don't need surgery."

Yes, take hormones, yes, let the breasts push, or remove them in the other case, but leave the genitals aside, not worry about them, pay no attention to them.

The one who told me that, added as an explanation: "It's just that they don't mean anything to me."

I interpret that, if they have always been trans, they have been so even from the early days when children do not know what genitals are, and consequently, in the imprinting phenomena that exist in the affective development of people, a rejection towards them was not established in effect. On the other hand, the social rejection of the assigned sex was clearly printed, since the social is the first thing that is seen, and “I am not like that! I'm like you!".

What I say has nothing to do with the normal order of men and women. People who want their genitals to vanish, but don't consider themselves women; people who want with all their might to be women or men, but do not really care much if their genitals are male or female, respectively.

It is not understood when you have a very simple vision of sexuality and transsexuality.

So, everything is supposed to be as simple and clear as the archetypes. Men and women. Can't you be a man? Well, you will be a woman. Or are you not a woman? Well, you will be a man. We will all help you to be a woman or a man, since there are only men and women. You will want to operate. You will operate. “Anima mulieris in corpore virile inclusa”, just that, as simple as that. You have to be more feminine. You have to be more masculine.

Many of us are in a fog. "I am not like that" "I am me" "I understand myself if I am the way I am, and I do not understand myself if I am what you want me to be"...

KimPérez 08-14-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

My idea of ​​law and morality is basically very severe, although tempered by the feeling of need for human pity.

I will say that I am a rationalist; severity comes from the conviction that logic or reason is inflexible; I am convinced that reason organizes all of nature and is therefore above human will (which can be freely unreasonable, but pays for it)

What I just said is strong, no doubt. As for the first part, the force of reason, modern science has spent centuries discovering that in order to understand nature one must know mathematics, which in turn is only a part of logic or reason; As for the second part, that reason is above human will, I do not invite you to prove it by doing irrational things, because the cost you would have to pay would be high.

The reason for this is clear: if nature is logical, reasonable, to move through it, through the world, through reality, you have to move reasonably.

Reason rules the world, whether we like it or not. It is an immaterial reality that organizes material reality. Something that man can understand and has to respect (freely, in our own way) Something that is not God, but that is the language that God speaks, eternal, immutable, that must be obeyed to survive, that is understood by all, the logic.

The function of reason is so irrefutable that it produces a few effects:

First, to try to refute the function of reason, one would have to reason... One could only try to demonstrate its failures by reasoning...

Second, when reason is against the will, even if it resists, it has to end up recognizing that reason is reason.

Third, reason is the only language common to all men.

In summary: It is so above the human will, that it can be said that it is sovereign; that being within man, all of whom can understand and discover it (even if we don't like it), it is above man.

That is to say: it is not man who is above everything; like it or not, we have to bow our heads before reason.

This is the field as simple as the grass in which my understanding lives. These are the principles that I follow in my life, which are the ones that we all know to be the truth, even if we don't want to admit it.

Now comes your application. Is it reasonable for me to be transsexual?

I am an XY person (I had the karyotype done many years ago to prove it) My gender is male, although not much. I will say that I am ambiguous masculine. I am not feminine.

My masculinity goes down a notch when it comes to sexuality. I am somewhat attracted to women, but I have never reached a concrete and defined desire, intense, much less obsessive.

I'm missing parts of male sexuality, such as the desire for possession or penetration. I understand sexuality as sweat and tiredness.

But if only for that, he could have been a somewhat asexual man, as there are many.

But I have to go down three or four more steps, when I get to male genitalia. It didn't worry me at all when I didn't understand it, when it seemed like a secondary organ that was good only for peeing. A phimosis presented its ugly form to me. The development showed it to me very ugly, strange to me, alien, shameful, ridiculous. I began to wish that it had remained in its innocent form or that it would disappear, allowing my body to return to a smooth, clean, harmless form.

At that point, as a teenager, I began to need to get rid of my sex. He did not understand or bear men, focused on him.

With what I said at the beginning of this Commentary, a question begins to worry: if I worship reason, is there logic or reason in this whole process?

There is, despite the appearance. Because I have kept silent about a fundamental fact: the cause of my aversion to male genitalia.

She could be in trauma, the various beatings she suffered before the males, almost zero in male friendship and affection, but they weren't all that terrible either. It is more likely that it is in a biological variant, a prenatal mismatch between the androgenization of the brain and that of the rest of the body.

If there is this endocrine imbalance, it is logical and rational that there are behavioral reactions that tend to better adapt to personal circumstances. My desire for a genital operation is a logical, adaptive necessity; its objective is entirely logical: to sacrifice a part to balance the whole. Great logicians such as strategists or chess players know very well the legitimacy of this action.

This process should logically lead to the formation of a truly ambiguous and agenital personality, recognized by all of society as a form of expression of a personal reality.

But I find the very serious drawback that our social, collective culture does not recognize these personal realities. It is still extremely binary, for her there is nothing more than men and women, beginning with the legal texts that oblige all those born to be assigned one of the two sexes, without considering the varied forms of the real genitalia.

This is irrational. This is the absurd (another name for the irrational). It is a problem of irrationality for which society as a whole is to blame, not the individual.

Moved by that culture, which was also mine, I deduced that if I couldn't be a man, I had to be a woman. Go from one extreme to another, when my reality told me that I was in between. I made an effort, but I didn't get to see myself as a woman, like any other woman. I am different; I am me.

This was my irrationality, following the ambient irrationality.

Now, in practice, since I am in a binary society, I prefer to live socially as a woman rather than as a man, because it puts less stress on me.

I might prefer to live as a man-person-undefined, but our culture says that if you're a man, you're not undefined. If you wear pants, you already know what your genitals are like, precisely what unbalances me the most.

So, on a day-to-day basis, I prefer to wear a skirt, which brings me closer to women, without pretending to be the same as them. I don't worry about the arrangement, I tell everyone what I am and live ambiguously.

All of this is rational, the rationality of adaptation corresponds to it, using the materials of binaryism as tools, while I fight to make it understood that reality is polarized by two great sexual attractors, but at the same time presents non-binary personal realities .

KimPérez 08-01-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Mycertainty is that the current liberation of the transsexual process has allowed many people to go in for it; but there are some who have remained stuck and suffering, or are among those who do not correspond to the stereotypes that the Units like, or in the rural environment, so repressive, or who are afflicted, captives of their own stereotypes, for a thousand doubts and hesitations that they do not know how to resolve, or those who do not have enough communication with the trans media, to talk about all these things, or those who encounter insurmountable work or family difficulties, or who...

My certainty too, from my own experience, is that all these difficulties come from the same root: that the binary of our culture is in the minds of everyone, of all our fellow citizens, and even within our minds, those of transgender people.

As I have been a binarist, like everyone else, and I have suffered the consequences of binaryism, I can only tell you: transsexuals who are longing for your liberation or have already achieved it, free yourselves first of all from the binary that hurts you in between, that makes you feel imperfect when you are not, free yourself from what a system of domination through sex has managed to get into your minds!

Also in the days of slavery there would be slaves who would think that slavery was natural, and what a bad luck for them.

Cultural binary tells us that there are only men and women (transsexual partners: did you hear that?), that men have to be masculine and women feminine, that men like women and women like them. men, and that the rest of us are "not worth it", or we are crazy, or we are vicious, etc. We have learned it since we were little and we do not deny it.

This is the Gender Code that hangs over our heads, threatening us and hitting us with every laugh in the street against us ("that's a guy"), so demolishing our self-awareness and our self-esteem, and that we have to undo by the simple mental operation of knowing that it is false, and starting to talk to some, and others, and some, about our discovery...

The generalized obedience to the Gender Code (it also has prizes: "I'm all a man"; "you're all a woman") explains all the problems I mentioned before.

If we don't live up to the stereotypes, someone is following the Code and decides we're not masculine or feminine enough according to the Code's templates. And that, for our own good, in a society of submissive obeyers of the Code. If the rural environment afflicts us, it is because its archaism makes it more binary than normal. Those who have doubts, as I had them up to the bunk of the train that took me to have surgery, is because I am profoundly non-binary, and that truth of mine clashed with the super-binary scheme in which I was unknowingly involved: Man or woman. And those who have communication, work, or family difficulties would not have them if everyone was used to the fact that reality is non-binary, and did not underestimate or crush it.

We transgender people are considered at least extra-ordinary or extra-vagant. They feel tense (we feel tense) in our company. We yearn to be "one more" or "one more". In reality, there is nothing extra-ordinary or extra-vagant in placing oneself in the middle of the context of gender-sex, and looking for the forms of expression that suit us, finding at the same time many, many and many who share them (Outgender movement of Tokyo, 6% of the population) Or, for very deep reasons, in deciding to have surgery, but without worrying about being female or male, or in fighting to suppress the F/M scheme of identity documents, and not making an effort to keep it It is true, beyond being a simple trophy of so much struggle...

Watch the videos of Andrej Pejic to better see what I'm talking about, and the inalienable future of our liberation from the Gender Code; Andrej, that is, Andres.

KimPérez 07-06-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Onnight, June 9, two thousand and eleven, I found the wonderful toy that I have been looking for since I was eight years old; I'm seventy, the count is easy, sixty-two ago.

I remember here only that suddenly I pretended that it was a toy in which I could put all my heart; not having to scatter it among others. That all my attention could be directed to that little object.

The reason for that feeling was very precise: I had received a new toy, a mulica with its tartana (a cart with an awning), all made of tin, and although I didn't like it very much, that reflection woke me up. It was one more toy (among a few others, not that I had many), but it required me to concentrate on it, find ways to play and, above all, put a part of my feelings into it.

Suddenly, I found myself wishing for a toy that would stand alone, a toy, one, that would focus my feelings, united in their origin, eager to be able to place themselves in a single object of love, of not having to disperse in a thousand distractions.

I immediately realized (but this was already a reflection) that this object had to be valid for everyone. How was I going to put all my heart into a single object, if others, just as beautiful and interesting, immediately appeared before me, attracting my attention?

No, that wonderful toy had to contain all the others in it; everyone had to understand each other within it.

That desire was so powerful that I perfectly remember all the spatial details. I see the tartan and the tin mule, the greenish awning, the wheels perhaps red, the light-colored mule with its features printed on the tin, with its legs in a trotting posture. Not that I liked it very much, but it impressed me; there weren't many toys like that.

I see myself. He was so small that he had me sit on the ground to play. I had shorts, I remember the cold of the tiles. It was precisely on the floor between the dining room and my father's office. My right hand made the tartanilla run across the floor.

My desires, my childhood experiments, were absorbed by that project; I immediately realized that it was impossible, but even though it was impossible, I spent perhaps a week or two pretending to look for it, as if it were possible.

Center the heart! Put your heart into something that deserves all the attention! Or someone, worth all the others!

This is the dream of absolute monogamous love, of the experience of love that comes to love a single person, to think only of her, to not be able to take the thought of her away, with absolute pleasure, with absolute wonder!

This is the crux of monotheism, which makes certain people search for only one god, one love, someone who deserves to put all the attention on him and him alone, and who is worth everything else, and that's why the efforts of atheism will be useless, as long as the human heart is as it is.

This has made me think more than once that that desire was a mystical or pre-mystical experience, but it is not. It is something simpler, more of tiles below, although it can lead, over time, to that. That's how I felt it, it was the desire for something simply related to my mind, which would allow me to play much more happily, since I was only a child at that time.

It's my mind, what I've discovered now, sixty-two years later, it was my mind the wonderful toy.

It was me. Now, after so much reflection, so many experiences of pleasure over many years and so much more suffering, I know that what I was looking for was that reality, which is one, since I am one, and which contains all the others within itself. to everything he sees, to the entire universe.

It contains within itself everything that is not itself, the mind, the consciousness, beginning with my own body, which is not me, but mine, placed next to me, but different from me.

Since I was little I also remember looking at my hands in amazement, moving them in front of my eyes, and saying to myself: “These are my hands”.

I liked them. They were fine, well shaped and long.

The intensity of this feeling is what could have made me transsexual, when I began to realize that I didn't like the genitals that were on my body, that they were ugly, deformed, ridiculous, unworthy of me.

Reflexively, it is verified that my body is not me, when it thinks that I have no idea what it does. I have, for example, a spleen, a pancreas, a liver, which work regularly and continuously, but I don't know what they do, nor have I designed it. I am here, they are mine in the sense that they are attached to me, but I know nothing about them, I was born attached to them, even subject to them, but different from them.

This separation between body and mind is what can make a person transsexual, but it goes much further than that.

Naturally, what surrounds me is not only my body, but everything else. The people who talk to me or kiss me or hate me. Tea afternoons. The deserted streets by the sea where I wait for the person I love to appear, to give meaning to these eucalyptus trees, to these beaches, to this horizon that will finally be theirs, the indescribable happiness in my young, beautiful and fresh life.

It also surrounds me, when the time comes, the starry night, the infinite black, the galaxies.

All of that is what's out of my mind. But at the same time, it is in her. Everything is mine. Everything is in me, kept in me.

Everything, even God, an outside concept, something that is not me, that is outside of me, but inside of me, like everything that is not me. Unless I am God.

Maybe it is, because after all, this self that sees everything is so small, it's such an infinitesimal point, it's so stripped of adjectives...

If I am not my body, I am nothing that can be described. I am neither a man nor a woman, to begin with, I am neither handsome nor ugly, smart nor stupid, neither white nor black nor purple nor green, I am not from my family, from my land, I do not speak Spanish nor Latin nor French, I am neither from now, neither before nor after.

I am not from a space or a time, nor a matter. It's just me, watching.

What I look at is everything, or it could be everything, as I find out. That is why I say that perhaps I am God.

A difference that I noticed a long time ago is that I see myself from the inside, while everything else I see from the outside. I know that it is me, while everything else is not-me. That is why I do not understand it well, I have to make inquiries, it is a limitation that shows me that I am not God.

The same as I see myself on the inside and the rest on the outside, if suddenly I find myself seeing inside what a penguin sees, or feeling inside the warmth of the sun and the joy of the water that a big tree drinks, so huge branches, or a tree apprentice, a sapling, then I would have taken a step to say that I was God, but not yet.

Or loving you at the same time, and feeling you on the outside and inside, a young man who fascinates me, so beautiful that you look like a woman, feeling the tremendous joy of being young with you, of being beautiful like you, of knowing the landscaped streets, the afternoon shadows that move you, seeing them next to you, hugging you.

Then I would come close to saying that I am God. Not yet.

I still just got that toy. I still don't know how to use it. I still use it clumsily, make mistakes, get out of control or get paralyzed, blocked.

I still don't really know if this is the toy I'm longing for. I guess, actually I'm almost convinced. But I have to check it.

All my heart. That it is worth everything. And more.

KimPérez 06-13-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

On the night of June 4 to 5, 2011, I was an emperor penguin through a French documentary that has impregnated my memory with blue tones, crepuscular or nocturnal, the cold of Antarctica, that planet next to ours.

Emperor Penguins are large, I don't know how much, due to lack of references, perhaps like us, with ample white breasts, extensive, to spare, and large black backs. The arms, too close to the body, moving awkwardly; between us, they would seem crippled.

Like human figures, they stand tall and upright. Or rather, they look like Egyptian gods, of those with a human body and an animal head, because on their bodies so human in appearance stands a stylized and beaked bird's head, black as the back, adorned only by a red stripe that reaches to the beak. , embellishing it, and some ocher spots; very elegant

Large eyes with an unfathomable gaze, expressionless. Thick, fine plumage, resembling fur.

At a given moment, all the Emperor Penguins that live in different places on the coasts of Antarctica, start moving. They walk very clumsily, in small steps, and form a very long single file. Seen from afar, it is understood that they are the true inhabitants, the indigenous people of that planet. Any astronaut arriving at Ganymede would take them for humans. They are not. They are something else.

The long lines of these beings advance for days. Everything is long and simple for them. They go through troughs of frozen snow. The cuts, cliffs, mountains, that they leave aside, are not made of rocks, but of ice. But it is a desert just like ours, only made of a different material.

They advance through the entrellana, calm, like the Indians through Arizona. Everything is different, but the same. Also on Titan the large lakes and the rains are methane.

Sometimes, when the terrain allows it, they drop to the ground and slide forward. Then they look like birds, ducks, their heads up. They slide like thick skins, propelling themselves with their legs, set far back, and balancing with their arms, that is, their fins. With them they cling to the ground.

Or rather, they've been turned into sleds, for a while, which gives them speed and saves them effort. When the ground, sand, and snow no longer allow it, they stand up again and continue, wobbling a little, but not much.

Sometimes, there is one that stands to the side, facing the line, and flaps its wings, opening them. It gives the entire feeling of a guard rushing the walkers. I don't know if it will. He too will rejoin the rank.

Dozens of lines of walkers are currently moving through Antarctica, as if they were on a pilgrimage. Some come from further away, others from closer. With amazement, the voice of the documentary says that they all converge in the same place, a plain that is entered through some really rocky places, black rocks among the snow, surrounded by great ice gorges, with pink panoramas of very high blocks floating in the nearby, but invisible sea, of peaks and rocks of ice, always enduring, always changing.

And they arrive almost the same day, or at close hours. They know the moment when they have to get going, whatever the distance, to meet all at once.

That place is where everyone was born. Emperor Penguins are always born in the same place, on that plain, between those ice cuts and those few stone rocks. The entire species has a single birthplace and all of them gather there once a year.

Everyone who comes on those long walks is male.

Their brain is predetermined what they have to do. They have separated from the females nine months earlier. They have gone together, to different places, to divide the coasts and the fish, their only food. At a given moment, depending on the distance, they have known that they have to return. And they have returned to the common, unique homeland.

(Any human who sees it, outside of those times, will think that it is a deserted cove in Antarctica, like any other. And yet, for the Emperor Penguins, it is the center of the world)

There the male crowd gathers, peacefully, waiting. And then, from the sea, the females return, also called by the same signal, but in a different way.

The entire species gathers in the gaps of that cove. All those who have been born in it return to it.

Females are, to human eyes, identical to males. There is no sexual dimorphism. However, one and the other have come to form couples, and one and the other seek and find each other. They will be guided by the aroma, the only perceptible difference.

For those who know what human sex is, I don't, you can imagine the party of aromas that will intoxicate you for a few days, while you recognize and choose each other, and the fever of feelings that will seize you.

Because they are not going to be together for a few moments, but for many months, the time necessary to bring a new generation to their planet and take care of it in its first helpless steps.

There are fights, sexual competitions. But they are not between the males by the females, but in the females by the males. In this species, androgens do not produce aggressiveness. The males are left to be desired.

Soon, everyone is together, each with each other. Among Emperor Penguins everything is slow and sweet. They face each other, tilt their heads in elegant postures, put them together, they stay like that for a long time, as if they were getting to know each other, as if they were breathing in the different aromas, as if learning that there is another way of being.

They may linger in that slow caress for hours.

There must be among them those who don't love the smell of others, but the documentary doesn't talk about them. Attracted by aromas similar to their own, perceiving their subtle differences, they will go from one to the other, being rejected, until they find the like, the one who will accept them, and they will also bow their heads before him, they will join them and remain like that for hours.

The union, as between birds, is smooth. There is no penetration. Two organs that are like two mouths come into contact and exchange fluid. The female stands below and the male above her, but the female turns her head to look at him, allowing her graceful neck.

It seems to me that the functioning of that species is intensely binary. Everything is carefully planned and separated between males and females, because in the extremely cold circumstances of that planet, procreation must be accomplished with extreme precision. Male and female behaviors are perfectly planned. It is not only that the males have left and returned, it is that all movements must be exact and careful from that moment on, and in the brain of each one they appear in the form of impulses, of unlearned instincts, but they are born from the bottom of millennia of collective experience.

From that moment on, things happen like this. The females, the mothers, lay a large, fertilized egg. It comes out hot from his body, but the surrounding temperature is tens of degrees below zero. The freezing of the new being, in the open air, even with its protective layer of lime, can be almost instantaneous. There are seconds to act.

Because you have to pass the egg from the mother to the father. This one, perhaps novice, has to quickly know what to do, without anyone teaching him. From the bottom of his feelings are born the necessary, overwhelming, indisputable impulses.

It takes it between its paws, with two large fingers, covered in strong scales that will be stronger than leather to withstand so much cold, with large nails. She sways it a little, tilts her pointed head, inquiring, to see him up close, adjusts it between her feet, tests the movements.

Suddenly, with a kind of little jump, it brings the feet together, and the egg rests on them. Immediately, it drops its belly and its soft cover of soft white plumage covers it completely. Incubation begins. The father's warmth makes life endure in the small lime space, that its fluids continue to be liquid, that the little being can grow.

With the responsibility of the egg handed over to the fathers, the mothers can return to the sea.

I couldn't watch it all at once, there were whole parts I missed, so what follows is a bit messy.

I saw the Penguins, I suppose, jump into the sea, and like all amphibian beings, transform.

Images taken from the depths showed them, from below, happily swimming below the surface at full speed, leaving trails of white foam, like jet planes.

They submerge and can be there I don't know how long until they have the need to breathe again. They look for the little fish and they feed, they enjoy, “full stomach, bless the Lord”. That is not only his environment, but as he understood the documentary, "it is his paradise."

Paradise on Earth, that is, paradise in the sea. The fullness of existence. Between submerged masses of ice, unfathomable blocks, beautiful in the light of the cameras and, sometimes, with games and unimaginable beams of sunlight, indicating, if the sea is still covered in ice, where the exits are. A blue, icy, transparent, calm, glass-enclosed water, and jellyfish, some fish, a seal that moved with grace and the languor of a dancer in it.

Meanwhile, on the surface of the plain, the parents endure, taking care of the eggs. For three months they will not eat, precisely during the night months, from the wind that blows non-stop and forces them to come together to try to protect themselves a bit, without cover at tens of degrees below zero, under a continuous wind that carries horizontal lines of snow that undulates and sticks like swords.

They bow their heads and close their eyes, enduring the storm for hours, and days and months, without eating, in the free and icy wind, surviving, keeping the temperature of 40º of the egg that, protected on their feet and under their belly , he doesn't know. How strong is life? And the instinct?

Above them, in the frozen sky, in the Antarctic night of months, in the immutable blue, is the only clock that they know how to see and count, as other sea animals, the whales, count it and expose their accounts with their songs.

The Moon reveals its phases, slowly, according to the slowness of the wretched who look at it. Very little by little, imperceptibly, it is in one phase and is put in another. It passes from the crescent, where it remains for a long time, between the cold, the solitudes, the gales of the Earth, until it is full, filling everything with the light and hope of the full moon, even though the storms and cloudy conditions continue; then it begins to wane, until suddenly it disappears. And in the midst of the anguish, suddenly a thread of light is seen, and it reappears. And so three moons pass.

Starving to death, those gathered in the native plain eat even the snow that the wind piles up, as long as they fill their stomachs a little and, on the way, drink.

Until also suddenly, the light of dawn begins to whiten the horizon. And little by little, it increases, until the first flash of the sun is seen, which immediately disappears.

And at that moment, the shells of the eggs begin to crack, and the chicks are born, covered in down, small and innocent and ignorant, in need of all protection.

And then, I suppose, because I didn't see that part, that the sea mothers return, and begin to feed them fish, and shelter them under their feathers, while the weak and tottering fathers, three months without food, return to him, to paradise, and they begin to feed and regain strength, and then they will return and take turns with the mothers, feeding the chicks and keeping them warm while the other one or the other goes down to the sea to feed in turn and to enjoy.

I have seen the Binary of life in its fullness. Males and females that must be physiologically perfect in order to fertilize and conceive. Male and female behaviors that are intensely detailed, meticulous, obeyed with complete exactitude so that, in these extreme conditions, the new generation can survive and grow.

But the Binary is valid only in terms of the species. Individuals do not have to be binary. Although you can't see the documentary, because it exists in other species, I have assumed that there must also be homosexual Emperor Penguins, who caress each other and even, because they don't have to take care of any eggs, go to the sea together and enjoy of their pleasure and their good food all year round – just like the females.

The species determines the general rules and almost all follow them. But there is nothing exact in life, everything can be unpredictable, and each being manages as best they can when the unforeseen arises.

The species sets the general guidelines, points out what must be done, but each one then does what they can. In such a gregarious world, what was a lone Emperor Penguin doing, who had gone in the direction of the sea, and which the camera focused on from far away, far above, from the top of a distant ice cliff, and saw it , very small, very alone in the middle of the frozen expanse?

Would it have gone to contemplate the immense landscape of almost geometric blocks, to smell the nearby sea with its throbbing nostrils, to feel the mystery and infinity of existence? It would be me?

Almost indifferent to aromas, caresses and incubations. A person, that is to say, a penguin from another world, who does not feel in the depths of his being the pushes of instinct that other penguins or people feel. Not binary.

The impulse of the males to take care of the egg is so strong that when, for some reason, it breaks and is lost, the father is upset and looks for another one anxiously, lowering his head in anguish in search of another, until who even manages to incubate a rounded stone that calms his desire.

This is pathetic and sad for a penguin, but a human would have taken the opportunity to invent a game and even create a sport: Suspension of Stone on the Feet, with rivalries and even world championships.

Chicks hatch and grow very quickly. His round and innocent eyes question the world. The color of its greyish plumage changes, approaching the immaculate white and the smooth black of the adults.

By the time they're left with only gray spots here and there, they're teenagers. So, in groups, in gangs, they approach the sea. And they throw themselves at him awkwardly. They waddle on the surface for quite some time, before realizing that they can submerge and become living bolides, and see the new wonders.

They move away from the shore. And they leave. They go, for four years, to “nobody knows where”. They disappear. They can travel a large part of an ocean, go to very distant regions, to Pacific islands, to coral seas full of fish, because for them everything is as simple and big as the planet.

After four years, they reappear, one day they come out of the sea, already turned into adults, the men go one way, the women the other, someone will change their path, and the cycle begins again.

What's the point of that existence? Life, evolution, which has taken them from one state to another for millions of years, will know, if we let them. And there will always be the infinity of the Moon and the Sea, the one that perhaps looked at that lonely Penguin, waiting for us.

KimPérez 05-30-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

It's been twenty years since I started my transsexual transition, very little by little at first and very strong afterwards. Now, from time to time I review my situation, and I find that I am serene, calm and balanced.

So much so that many days I don't have to think about transsexuality at all. I dedicate myself to other topics, mysticism, genealogies, things that interest me more (what a barbarity I just said, but today it is like that!)

I would even like to stop thinking about transsexuality, dedicate myself entirely to my personal life, and that's it. If I still dedicate myself to doing theory of transsexuality, or transexology, or intertransexology, it's because there are still some small edges that itch me.

But I have great well-being and, for the first time in my life, I have achieved personal balance.

In this, I realize that I must be like most transsexual people, who as soon as they complete their transition, disappear from forums, networks, etc. and dedicate themselves to living their personal lives in peace.

There is no doubt that this is a very strong argument in favor of the need for transsexual transition. Going from anguish and constant imbalance to well-being is a strong reason that we have done well to transit when we have transited.

When you have been in the new way of life for twenty years, like me (well, since I started very beginning), you come to believe that you have always been like this, that you have always been a balanced person, etc.

None of that. Sometimes it is good for you to memorize what you have been through, what other people have been through and what others may be going through, to recover a sense of reality, to appreciate what you have, if you already have something, and to realize what that a penal and inhuman Gender Code has taken from you.

A conversation yesterday made me remember, step by step, what I have suffered. I will make a brief relationship.

=I suffered at the beginning, in adolescence, from disorientation. I didn't know how to give a name to what was happening. I looked in the Espasa Encyclopedia (the only data source we had at the time) and only found “homosexual”, “eunuch”, etc., seeing that it did not correspond to what I felt.

Not weird. The word "transsexual" was not known. We were in 1954, and in America it was just beginning to be used.

=It wasn't just disorientation. I knew what my feelings meant socially. Much silence. Much shame. Lots of guilt. I couldn't confess, it was too embarrassing. At a Midnight Mass, I had to watch as my entire family received Communion and I stayed in our pew.

A lot of despair, realizing that it was impossible. At fourteen, I made a cunning pact with the devil. I wouldn't sell my soul to him, but if he helped me change my sex... I can't say the rest; I am still rightly ashamed of what I offered him.

=How many dreams and how many sufferings, in the beauty of summer nights, before a sexuality that I did not understand, different, but that I realized that I did not know how to make it come true, not even if it was something more What a pure vice and obsession!

=The sensation of that hidden dirt must have been what, step by step, led me at the age of nineteen to define an “intense obsessive neurosis” (today called “obsessive compulsive disorder”), characterized by a continuous need to wash myself and an irrational fear of contagion. It is considered to be one of the most painful mental conditions. He took me to a psychiatric sanatorium for three months, to a thirty-comma insulin treatment and for my parents to spend money they didn't have. The compensation was that in the sanatorium I had a lot of fun, with my new and dear friends from the high society of Madrid, who were detoxifying. Thanks, Gender Code.

=When I came back (the neurosis intact), my main anxiety was to find “open doors” for my transsexuality, which I never found. He couldn't even find anyone to talk to. It was perpetual silence, on the most important issue for me.

=He studied in fits and starts. To find open doors, he did everything he could and could not. They gave me a scholarship in Poitiers, and I went there; nothing; then I went to Paris with some Nicaraguan friends, and I arrived at the Carousel! The temple of transvestites (so it was said), the most elegant transsexual cabaret in the world, full of the glamor of Coccinelle and other stars! I stayed one night, I met Esperanza, a woman from Seville, and I was thrown back by discovering that there were gorillas to keep an eye on... the customers. I felt so ashamed, that single detail aroused my feelings of guilt and shame to such an extent, that I could not go back, and for three or four weeks I was dominated by a feeling of rejection of everything I had seen... which was my hope .

=I tried other times, and never, nothing. I made trips of a week or so to Barcelona, ​​to Madrid, I worked in Barcelona in the workshop of an illustrious dressmaker, without having any idea of ​​sewing, a friendly seamstress taught me to tie the thread knot with one hand, I lasted two days and I said goodbye, because I was not capable of facing up bravely, radically, to my situation. I could have continued! I had many doubts, my desires appeared periodically, a couple of weeks at most, and then I would plunge into a gray coldness that lasted perhaps months. The desires were turbulent, passionate, very intense, but the coldness belied them. I went to Amsterdam, and I talked to a doctor who offered to operate on me (in my twenties) but I didn't decide, fearing that I might still get married, etc. By the way, I entered the COK, the great gay association in the Netherlands, in its huge and dark bar, and as soon as I entered I realized that it was not my thing...

=In one of those escapes, I decided to accept an offer to go to Algeria; My situation in Granada, in 1967, was one of such confinement, of such an absolute lack of perspective for the only thing that interested me, that it seemed to me that Algeria would be better. And it was. For the first time I was able to live semi-publicly as a transsexual, albeit at times, inside (or almost) my home. Thank you, Monsieur Dominique, thank you, Lola, thank you, Rachid.

=But, professionally, I had no future. At twenty-eight years old, I decided to return to Spain and finish my degree, which was bogged down. I did, with great joy, and placed myself in the University. Two years later, I went on vacation to London, and threw my job out of the window when I found out that I could live as a transsexual there!

But I was missing a terrible impact. It was possible, but she was embarrassed, I confess, out of senoritism. A week before he was teaching at the University and a week later he was washing dishes. To top it off, on a walk down Carnaby Street, I discovered an apron, in a shop, with a sign that read "Sex made me come and go." My interpretation was that my identity was a matter of of uncontrolled sexuality. My shame was such that I decided to give up my feelings. As if I didn't have them.

Eighteen years the attempt lasted. At first it was very good. I focused, and despite a terrible self-blaming incident that would take a long time to recount (but related to transsexuality and that it took me two years to have a doubt stuck -literally, it was the sensation- in the solar plexus, and that the fingertips my fingers were filled with twenty-seven warts), little by little I fell into tolerating fantasies, the only form of expression I had left, and with them, returning to a state of obsession, of frenzy that turned into palpitations in the forehead that I was afraid of being led into a fit, and of almost madness.

That was what decided me to take the step towards the transition, even though the world was sinking, towards reality, and although I felt excruciating pain for everything I had lost, I started it determined and little by little everything was becoming better.

I had lost my adolescence, my youth and almost my maturity. I had a few years left of this one. I took advantage of them. At the age of fifty I lived my adolescence. I was in pubs and clubs with my trans friends who amazed me with just their company.

The joy that still lasts me today began, in the form of serenity.

That's why, remembering everything I've been through, I think I can't dedicate myself to enjoying my peace of mind.

Things have improved. With two trans friends, I went with their parents to eat at a fancy restaurant. Something unthinkable ten years earlier. Me, a visible trans (they are not) in public with two families?

Both have completed their transitions in their youth. They just need to adapt to the limits of their trans reality in relation to men, but little by little they are learning.

But there are a lot of people left in the closet, just as terribly locked up as I was. One of them, of whom I have already spoken, has suffered a heart attack from suffering so much. Watch the years go by slowly. Hopefully I get it sooner than when I got it!

Another is my age and has only made it a few times. I send you a greeting full of affection and understanding! Write me, there are ways to face our years!

Others are being pushed around by the Units, which take advantage of our extremely defenseless situation to act as if they were our owners, imposing their criteria on us, under the implicit assumption of “who is going to protest against a transsexual?” Well, we are protesting and we are going to get it.

Others have the doubts that I had, and I can tell them what I have experienced, and if the doubts continue, I can tell them that they should not be as drastic as I learned from the happy Gender Code that had to be, that today day you can make less radical decisions, more intermediate, that there will always be many people who will understand you and who will support you and who will like you, etc.

The life of trans people is still not as serene and calm and balanced as it can be. Until that time comes, my life can be serene and balanced, but not calm.

KimPérez 05-30-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Three weeks ago, I started doing something unusual for me: my electoral campaign. I started asking in Madrid for the vote for Carla Antonelli (Carla Delgado), which was in the sense of transsexual empowerment, transsexual visibility with respect, thinking that this in a democracy is the most important thing for us right now. More important until the person, Carla or another, more important than the party with which the transsexual candidate/candidate was, more than the PSOE, IU or, let's see, yes?, yes, the PP, if possible , or any other.

He said that "I would like to vote in Madrid", because Carla is the only candidate for regional deputy, but empowerment, visibility with respect is so important, that despite what I am going to say later, if I were registered in Madrid, I would still go vote for Carla.

If a transsexual were with the PP! As it was not the case, this was the meaning of last Sunday's comment, to say that "I will not vote for the PP", neither in Madrid nor in all of Spain, explaining the deep historical reasons that move the resistant, serious, dangerous structural homotransphobia of the pp.

For this Sunday I had an article on "Balance" in mind, which I feared would be a bit bland. What I could not figure out is that an event of such weight was going to take place this week that it was going to make the entire electoral campaign pale.

I also paid attention, because Granada was the city with the greatest convocation capacity in Andalusia in the early days. The city's huge student population (and unemployed youth) explains it.

I was fascinated because I saw that a series of convictions that we all expressed in our private conversations suddenly went out into the street, we all said them, suddenly became the center of public conversations.

It was added that we had all shared the desperation that the Spanish population was so inert, that it did not react, and suddenly we saw it stand in the middle of the middle, speak as determined as it was calm, for the first time by itself since the Transition , without intermediaries, without professional politicians offering themselves to give us a voice.

The general reasons were public knowledge: an unfair electoral law, which includes closed lists that are the origin of a closed policy, in which the leadership of the parties despotically rules over the people; some banks that are being rescued with our money, while companies, small businesses and mortgages are being dropped, with millions of unemployed and evicted; a political caste, a new class with lifetime super-pensions, essentially united, as it has shown by voting unanimously for its privileges, and which makes the appearance of dividing itself into left and right... They have won, all without exception, for that fact, the "They do not represent us"

The movement of the Indignados is more united by the No than by the possible yeses. But it is natural, we are not going to do it all at once (I get into the us only for having gone to the meeting in Granada twice and for having contributed the messages on the networks that I could)

This moment is when we say No, and we are together. And we are saying it peacefully and very calmly, so much so that this peace (and the mass) has deactivated nothing less than the repression decreed by the Electoral Board. Gandhi is back. There has been no assault on the Puerta del Sol, because it has been seen that it would be physically and morally impossible to attack a peaceful (and compact) crowd, without wreaking havoc (and there have been those who have demanded that they intervene!)

The consequence will be that on Monday, apparently, normal political life will return. But only apparently. These issues are already deeply embedded in Spanish political life. In a week. Professional politicians will try to forget them, but a movement sustained by misery, unemployment and indignation will prevent it.

The Spanish public debate has already changed. It is already the 21st century. The 21st century has begun in Spain. The old partocratic system of the last quarter of the 20th century is already finished. It will break down more and more and will end up falling apart. Mice will replace dinosaurs. And by the way, also the birds.

Among the mice and birds of the 21st century is the transsexual movement, the non-binary movement, as I prefer to call it. Representing us, there is Carla Delgado, with the name of art, suffering and life, Carla Antonelli.

From what I have said, if I were registered in Madrid, I would vote for it. Knowing that she has already shown, five years ago, that she "does represent us."

But since I live in Granada, I'm not going to vote for anyone, because "they don't represent us." I'm sorry, Izquierda Unida, because I already told you that I would vote for you for many reasons of gratitude. I thought so a week ago, when I only saw the continuity of the political system. But today, I am sorry to say, it is true that "you do not represent us". However, it is also true that you are willing to join the Indignados, like some others. If you do it for real, changing your professional practices, I will recognize that you already "represent us". Therefore, then I can show you my appreciation.

In short, this as a whole is a balance without balance. Because he is overturned on the side of the Indignados.

KimPérez 05-25-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

When it comes to deciding our vote, a reality is that the Popular Party hates and despises us. It is not a rare discovery: without a doubt there are people who vote for that party who love us; but when it comes to getting together, the whole, the Popular Party, will look askance at transsexual people (and let alone homosexuals)

Or patronize us: "Look at me, I don't care if they see me with you."

That we do not mind remembering him when, for some reason, we are personally or familiarly close to him. That's not why he will look at us any other way.

It won't be enough even when our hearts are attached to them. His heart is not attached to us.

The immediate test is to observe the televisions that are close to it.

They can't talk about gays or transsexuals without smirking.

The cavalier joke jumps at the slightest. It's not the joke. It is the mockery

Maybe we put up with it, or put it in brackets, because we're not sure enough of our moral position. Because we feel guilty and, deep down, we agree with them. "We are unfortunate, vicious, sinful."

My God, let's get rid of this fanged serpent that fascinates us and threatens to devour us very clearly, explicitly.

Once, in a debate, I heard the old phrase said with full conviction: “But what are they proud of?” (For Gay Pride)

She didn't have her cell phone handy, but if she did, she would have responded: “If she had survived.” And if he had dared me, he would have added: "To your hatred."

They won't acknowledge it in public, as bigotry directed against each and every one of us; they will say that they are against “the gay lobby”, as if they were the “bad gays” (joining us in the word gay), as if theoretically distinguishing them from the “good” gays, scared, in the closet if possible.

I am observing at this moment that, unconsciously, the word in Spanish has connotations of “wolf”, as if we did not have the right to empower ourselves, like any other social group. Or rather, the "electricity lobby" is something prestigious, even nice, but the "gay lobby" is bad, which must be contained, repressed and perhaps prohibited. Again.

It is clear that the Popular Party cannot remove that slab that it drags.

It does not come only from him, from that party founded in 1989, twenty-two years ago; It comes from a much older date, much more, very remote, approximately from 313, drags some thousand six hundred years of tradition of power.

I now summon, as a witness, a convicted person, an executed person, Jesus Nazareno, a Jew, who would address his enemies the Pharisees, more or less with these words: “Whitewashed tombs, virtuous officers, who strain the bug and you swallow the Bible in paste! A whore or a fagot, as you call them, will pass in front of you and the last will be the first, because they have had enough of crying!”

But the clairvoyant, overwhelming, human force of those words, in our Spain has hardly been heard. In our Spain, that complex system in which good faith, conformism and power are mixed for good, has been in place for that long, about 1,600 years, and does not like good feelings when they are free. And that power complex is trapped by his own words. The authors of the Bible wrote three thousand years ago against sacred prostitutes and "men who dress as women", and if the Bible is the word of God, it follows that God is against sexual variations... that has created.

The new Catechism of the Catholic Church, published a few years ago, says that in reality God also loves homosexuals, that he understands that they have these feelings, but that he does not love their actions. Therefore, perpetual closet, from childhood to death.

Or a blind eye, and eyes closed. The Catholic Church admits homosexuals in some Easter Brotherhoods, for example, but as long as it is not said. Is it going to be tolerated that there is, for example, a "Homosexual Brotherhood of Jesus of the Good Death"? Would she parade without being stoned, by her own, like Jesus down the Calle de la Amargura?

To say it all, I must say that the attitude of a part of the Catholic Church towards transsexuals is more nuanced, and that none other than the former Cardinal Archbishop of Seville, Monsignor Amigo, was a friend to our collective. I have to be very grateful for the Christian attitude of those who have treated me well and have welcomed me into our Parish, despite wearing a skirt, and even the tenderness of those who have given me communion, "which our sisters have just received."

But all this is conditioned by the literal reading of the Bible in what it has of incomprehension of homosexuals and the like, and for this reason, in depth, the Popular Party cannot treat us as citizens on an equal footing. And, in fact, he wants to dismantle our organizations.

Let there be no Gay Pride. That there is no gay lobby. Let there be no such respect for personal feelings as the word marriage suggests. That you cannot be scandalized by kissing in a cafeteria. That they be discreet And what can discretion mean for transsexuals, who are usually indiscretion personified, from the moment we set foot on the street?

They would also force us to be discreet, if they could.

By the way: I recognize that they have created the Madrid Unit (although with an archaic and authoritarian style) But I know that with the Popular Party it will always be in a precarious position, depending on where the wind blows.

That's why it's inconceivable, and I'm telling you considering you basically brothers, as out-of-the-closet gays, as related to the transsexuals who have suffered so much in the closet, that there are gays who support the Popular Party. They will force you to be the administrators of the demolition of our institutions. First they will force you to say that Gay Pride is a scandal, that it discredits us. Later, they will make you say that the idea of ​​a formal commitment, of marriage, for us, is too much, and you will shut up before the appeal. In perspective, a gray submission to the old Gender Code, which has always crushed us. "It's just natural! When has it been seen? How far will we go!"

If you say that, know that part of it is true. When has this been seen? Never, in more than sixteen hundred years of misery, shame and even death. How far will we go? As far as the human being can go, eternally dissatisfied, aware of his miseries, eager for perfection.

What is not true is that repression is natural. What is natural is human variability, the constant creative freedom of nature. Let's look at her. Let's admire her.

And let us separate from the Popular Party, decidedly.

KimPérez 05-16-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

If I lived in Madrid, I would vote for Carla Antonelli, because she is transsexual.

Not because he belongs to the PSOE. I go the other way. Because she's transgender.

Maybe I would vote for Carla in the Community of Madrid, because that is where she is going, on the list of Tomás Gómez and the PSM, and for another party in the City Council.

I'm going to vote in Granada and I'll vote for IU, even if my ideas go the other way (I'm a liberal/libertarian), for my gratitude for the constant support it provides to the transsexual cause.

An autonomous transgender cause is being defined, which is used by the parties (and doesn't let the parties use it), depending on how the parties support it.

The transsexual cause is still that of the outcasts of the earth.

I am an outcast from the earth when I still cannot go out in the street in a skirt, without being looked down upon or insulted by some. Miraculously, I managed to work and retire. Other people are outcasts from the earth because they can't get to work without tearing up their identity. Or if they put their identity ahead of everything, they don't work, and they won't have a retirement.

Simply put, employment rates for trans women are close to 0%. Most live in a permanent economic supercrisis. If the general unemployment rate is 20%, ours is 98%. The general crisis will pass in a few years and ours in a few decades. You know: to self-employment (cooperatives, better) or civil service. Isn't that enough to see a specific transsexual cause defined?

We can't get specific care without psychologists or doctors claiming the power to decide who we are transgender or not. They don't talk about it with us in a friendly way, they don't acknowledge the fact that we are the ones who know it and that we are in our right minds.

And they shouldn't insist that they have to make sure that we are healthy or cured, because psychiatric patients come to all consultations and they are treated first psychiatrically and then for what continues to hurt them!

They do not start from our greatest truth: that we are not wrong, but that it is they, the society that surrounds us, that is wrong, for being binary.

And on top of that, they don't advise us, they don't have an opinion. They rule. They decide. And if you do not have means, or they are precarious, then his decision translates into a sentence on your happiness: He does not meet the requirements. Or: “You have excluded yourself”.

And then, you can find yourself, a transsexual, without the means to operate if that is what you need, and with a public health system that denies you the right to call yourself a transsexual in its field, to change your roles, to deny you psychological support as a transsexual in your misery, because to her you are not transsexual.

Aren't you an outcast of the earth?

For this reason, transsexual people are an autonomous cause, with our own issues that are vital to us and that we have to resolve.

We are so accustomed, accustomed and accustomed to being the outcasts of the earth, that all this seems normal to us. Psychologists and doctors are good when, by treating us imperatively, they let us pass. But what about when they don't let us through?

Slave owners were also good when they were kind or let them eat well and get enough sleep. But a clear-headed slave would say to these well-meaning men, "Thank you very much, but set me free."

And when they were even clearer, he would say to the other slaves: "Let's free ourselves!"

I know that I would not have passed the sieve, if I had had to come to one of these units that I have contributed to creating, but also believing that this authoritarian drift was a lesser evil.

Because of my height, my loud voice, and my 46 shoes, I am far from a “woman's appearance” other than that of a basketball player. Of course, I also don't play binary "roles" that were once supposed to be those of a woman. And I continually doubted if it was a man or a woman.

But if I had been excluded (or “self-excluded”), if I had not been able to have surgeries or papers, what would my life have been like? Wouldn't it be full of anguish, fantasies, sadness?

Wouldn't it be true that I owed these authoritarian professionals the moral misery in which I would live and that I might already have died of grief seeing that other people enjoyed an identity that would still be denied to me?

Thanks to having been able to dispose of myself, to not having to wait, properly speaking, for someone else's “diagnosis”, thanks to having been autonomous, I have been able to enjoy these years of well-being and tranquility.

That's what I want everyone to be able to know, everyone, without permission. This is what is added to the pressing labor needs and the taunts on the street.

Because of all this, because of the mockery, because of the labor problems, because of those who want to put us under guardianship, if Carla becomes a representative, it will be transsexual power. It will be our power, someone who knows everything we know.

Autonomous power, power of the sexual class, of the pariahs of the earth, to which everyone can turn when they have an issue that requires political power.

I am about to assure myself that the forums of this Transsexual Digital Diary will become something like “Talk to the congresswoman”.

It won't even be just socialist power, but something else: socialist power but trans power. She is a socialist to the bottom of her soul, but whether or not she will exercise transsexual power. Definitely. Big. Respected. A transsexual autonomous deputy. And that's why you have to support it.

I don't know where you stand on current transgender discussions. I haven't even asked him. Not if they are different from mine. I support it precisely because these are transsexual internal discussions. And Carla's candidacy is an external issue; it is a little more transsexual power in Spanish political life.

And after she's chosen, we'll have a chance to discuss what's convenient with her.

But in addition, Carla is a person from Chueca, a star of the environment that is so close, so intimate, so dear to us.

There is no need for explanations between us, gays, lesbians, bisex, intersex and trans.

We know what we're talking about. And for this reason, the mutual and strong solidarity that exists between us must also be understood in this way: Carla is a GLTBI candidate.

It might sound like I'm starting to speak in rally style. I don't want to. I speak of realities: those of political power. I am also going to say nasty, anti-propaganda things.

At worst, Carla disappoints us. She can't do what she wants. It is a small cog in the enormous, excessive gear of an increasingly bureaucratized party.

It won't be for her. I have identified her by a phrase that she told me, in private, a few years ago: "I have to be able to look at trans face to face." And he did, and he was independent against the PSOE, and his party took it as a challenge, and made him lose everything, until today, he has realized his mistake and the favor that Carla did him, and he has recovered it to a new image.

Because today, the PSOE is an old tortoise with many shells, and Carla can't do everything. At worst, four years from now, she has to tell us: "I did what I could."

But it's better to have someone try what they can than to have no one at all.

And therefore, it is better that Carla be there as a transsexual and GLBTI deputy.

I'm going to give you an assignment, by the way, that almost no one will like: a Chilean lesbian colleague told me that putting lesbian visibility ahead was the reason for putting the order of acronyms such as LGBT. So, if it is not by chronological order of appearance of the movements, if it is for the visibility of the groups that need it the most or the most disadvantaged, why don't we support the TIBLG order?

Of course, it is not that a deputy of the Madrid Assembly has to stick to transsexual issues.

If it were girded, it would be powerless. As if there were a rule that said: "You, talk about yours and keep quiet about the rest." There isn't. And therefore, she, as a deputy, will have to deal with everything.

And it will have to deal with, for example, issues like suburban trains, which at first sight have nothing to do with transgenderism, or it will have to consider budgetary priorities, or whatever.

But in all of them, there will be a transsexual undertone. that will not escape you. Because when dealing with suburban trains, for example, he will remember a trans alone in a wagon, scared by a gang of hooligans, and he will then support extreme defensive surveillance measures.

Or when it comes to affirmative action, you'll never forget the T for trans. Nor of the other acronyms of our movement, for what is required. schools? Job?

The next step for the transsexual movement, for her or already for another person, will have to be that of the position of deputy in Congress. And the next one, perhaps, if someone wants it, that of a Ministry... Why not? Why not the equality of all people? Why not, if we still need it to earn the multifaceted respect of our society?

That is why we need so much, as a priority, that Carla be a deputy in the Madrid Assembly. And since we trans are always few, we need the support and voice of our natural allies, the immense gay, lesbian and bisex movement in Madrid, and that of feminists.

Let me end with a rally appearance but with a heart for my fellow fighter: Gays, lesbians, bisex, intersex, trans, feminists from Madrid, vote for Carla Antonelli because she is transsexual.

KimPérez 05-09-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Nno, I have no choice but to talk about these things that have brought us headlong these days and will continue to bring us. Transsexual people have a lot to talk about.

There have been some hints of discussions and yet, I am convinced that everything is due to mistakes and misunderstandings about what we stand for, and that when we talk about it calmly, we will reach an agreement of at least eighty percent, I mean.

Why are there these misunderstandings? Simply, because we have not spoken, or we have not spoken face to face (people understand each other, seeing each other's eyes, expressions, hearing voice tones), because we are far away, I in Granada, far from almost everyone ( almost, but not quite, thank goodness), and because it's easy, when you're not speaking, to assume what the other person means, and once you've made the assumption, you continue to speak as if they had said it and not! has said!

Well, I'm going to try to be very clear about what we say and what we don't say, and when I finish this comment, really tell me if we agree or not.

For example, we're supposed to be against gender division, like we think all people should be of a uniform gender.

Or as I say: a puree or gazpacho of sorts. Well no; Nothing of that; otherwise; because precisely, we are against there being any obligatory form of gender, neither obligatory gazpacho nor rainbow, that everyone be as they are, on the other hand. Gender freedom, knowing that most of you shoot for one of two, but others of us stay apart.

Because there are people who are and like to be masculine, people who are and like to be feminine, people who like to be neither fu nor fa, or more fu and less fa, or more fa and less fu...

We know that in the reality of the world there is everything, and that everyone is as they are. Well, that, that there are no obligations for human beings to be one thing or the other.

Or said with other more serious words: that there is no criminal and mandatory Gender Code, which obliges each person to be mandatory in gender matters.

Not that there is no gender; that there is no Gender Code, that there be freedom, gender freedom.

And all this connects with the fact that there are men. There are people whose main sexual organ, the brain, is male, and who are and want to be men.

These people, regardless of their body, are men, because the part of their body that commands, the brain, tells them "I am a man." Spot.

Whether operated or not, in our cases. This is the great conquest, the great understanding of contemporary sexology: sex is in the brain.

Same for women. You are not a woman because you have a certain body, but a certain brain.

Or better, more exactly: not only a biology, but a biography. And all of that is in the brain, which is hardware plus software plus what we do, plus our memories and our desires.

Conscious living beings are a biology plus a biography. What we have experienced, what we have suffered or what we have escaped from, our way of marveling at them, the people who have surrounded us, insulted us, loved us, advised us, missed us by our side. All of this forms our biography, which in fact makes us like or dislike, conform or not conform, and all of this is as important in terms of the final result as our biology, which, after all, is nothing more than predisposition. .

Therefore, there are men and women who are transsexual or not. And period, up to here. But not full stop, but full stop.

Because other people are there too. And therefore, it is not a binary, but a non-binary. Life is non-binary.

We are people, for example, who have had gender dysphoria like any other transsexual person. We have needed to make the enormity of the social transition or the slightly smaller enormity of more or less operations.

And we are happy with what we do or have done. We feel well-being in the face of the transition, we have balanced ourselves, now our biology and our biography are more in agreement.

Only that upon re-identifying ourselves, we have found to our surprise that we couldn't be A, but we can't be B either. Or we are a special mix AB. A brand perfume. We. Us. we.

We exist. We are here. Therefore we have the right to exist. We are true, we are as we are. So.

In the Anglo-Saxon world, where they are a few years ahead of us, perhaps a decade, they know it well, and they count on it. There are trans feminine identities, trans masculine identities, and trans trans identities.

Or social realities, and taking into account the complexity of the world we live in, its state of transition in terms of gender, labor problems that may exist, unemployment, family situations, there are transfeminine, trans social realities masculine, and trans trans.

Taking into account also that what I call here trans trans, actually has many forms, many nuances, many names.

We know that there are (we are) non-gender people, or more aggressively, fogender people, very masculine people who don't mind showing their genitals, like Leslie Feinberg, people who define themselves as masculine or ambiguous, but female sex (operated)...

There is everything! Do not worry about an apparent confusion! We know how we are, we know what our being is, inside! Life is so!

Let's go outside, in a big city, and what do we see? That. Where there is in fact freedom, there is gender freedom. Each one is as it is.

There are transgender people who, since they were little, felt like girls, who were always girls, then women, or felt like women, aching at the awareness of a body that followed its own path. There is nothing to say: they are women, they only know how to be women. They have to be women. They get it and they are very proud of it. They are women, whole, from head to toe, one hundred percent women in their soul and their feelings.

Trans men feel the same way. Since they were little they have known that they were men. They have been outraged by their mothers' attempts to treat them like children. They have been surprised, more exactly. And then, they have found that the whole world seemed to take away their reason, and they have had to fight the unspeakable, until they achieve it. They have achieved it. They are men. We know that they are men and the whole world begins to know it.

Well, for some reason, we are also who we are not exactly men or women. We are aware of the existence in biology, in society, of two great attractors, the masculine and the feminine, identity attractors. Like everyone, we are drawn to them. What happens to us is that in some things we feel attracted to one and others to another. Or in certain aspects by one, and in certain others, by another. Or by neither. Perhaps we feel like angels, and we would like to kiss one and the other, or be kissed by both, or more by one than the other. Is there something wrong with wanting to be an angel? I do not think so.

Our reality is infinitely nuanced, free, personal, just to the extent that all transsexual people, all of us, in fact declare ourselves independent of the penal and binary Gender Code (although we don't realize it)

There are transsexual people. To the extent that we find ourselves with a gender dysphoria (or disobedience), whose strength is measured only because we have to do something big, regardless of who weighs, identities can be different. There are feminine (transsexual) identities, clearly feminine, feminine all their lives, no matter what is done about social or bodily transformation; there are masculine (transsexual) identities, clearly masculine, definitely masculine, whatever they do socially or bodily; There are ambiguous, or indefinite, or intersex identities (but transsexuals, like the others) that have required great social or bodily change, to break ties in such a strong social or bodily way, that it is clear that we are transsexual.

In this transition it is clear that we need attention, like everyone else. We need advice, company, understanding, hormones, more or less surgeries. It's not that we need less, it's not that we settle for less. It's not that we want to be half and half. It is that we want to be something else, and our culture is binary and cannot understand us.

When it comes to being, we are transgender. When it comes to identity, we are women, men, or our identity is precisely to be neither men nor women. As we have seen, in countries with Anglo-Saxon culture this is already seen, understood, assimilated. But we believe that our feminine or masculine identities, whose suffering lies in being denied, should be respected. It is not that all transsexual people have a transsexual identity, but it is necessary to respect that some transsexual people have a transsexual identity.

And it is even more necessary to respect all transsexual people who, because they are materially imprisoned by the bars of the fierce binary, cannot express their feminine, masculine or transsexual identity...

This is life. There is everything. There has to be everything. We know. Sometimes painful (for years, decades, a lifetime; we know that), other times beautiful, the variation, so human. Everyone has the right to say where they are, strange as it may seem to others. For inexplicable. This is free, gender freedom, human, what we all want.

Most of them go with pleasure and emotion towards one of the great attractors. We leave or stay away from them, in practice. We are people, like everyone. We are transgender.

For all this, for what we have learned, we have to say that human life is so complex, that nobody understands it, except each one, and many times, not even that, but more than the neighbor.

For this reason, it makes sense to admit advice, opinions, that will be the meaning of future gender units, to talk to us, advise us, but knowing that only we really understand each other, that the decision will be ours.

It's going to be ours if we say no, if we slam the door and walk away, whether we're wrong or not! Why can't it be ours when we decide yes, that we move on?

The real life test can be a very valuable experience as long as it is free. The first thing is that it be from real life, from everyone, infinitely varied today, not from a life that is unreal.

The second thing is that everyone can give their opinion about the different options, especially how and when. Everyone is the one who truly understands their work, family context, their fears, their realities. It is good that you listen to the opinions of others, and that these are professionals, even from image professionals; but only to hear, to broaden their points of view; but the decision has to be up to everyone.

Better explained, also to your professional advisors, so that they can also broaden their points of view; but not even necessarily explained, because there are those who do not know or do not want to explain themselves.

Because in the units, what they help us is in the development of a right. It's not about giving us permission. We have it for us, or we, or ourselves. It is only about helping us to do it in better conditions.

Let's be clear: everyone has the right to live the genre as they want. Well then, let him exercise that right to the best of the ability of society, which is a mutual aid system, to help him.

And if we're wrong, it's up to us. Because it is better to be wrong with freedom to choose, than to live subject to the decisions of another. And is that the unit can not be wrong? Is it the Holy Trinity?

And when the unit makes a mistake, when it tells someone no, what is left?

What do you do when you're transsexual and you've received a refusal for public assistance – like before? Are you left with self-hormonal, regardless of whether you're doing atrocities with your own body, without really having a clue? ? You may not be lucky, but you may be! Does the horrific self-mutilation remain, which from time to time appears on paper, and of which every month I commemorate a victim, my friend, who was left as if with a cave?

And there is also a terrible aspect to mention, class. All of these obligations, all of these protocols, all of this real life, are only binding on Social Security users, that is, the poor, those who have no money to pay for treatment or surgery.

This is strictly so. Everything that is obligatory divides us into poor and rich, and gives more rights to the rich than to the poor. Come on, the usual.

Those of us who have had some money have resorted or were able to resort to private medicine, and whoever pays rules. Here or in Thailand. This must be taken into very careful consideration. Does it mean that Social Security in Spain is forcing those who have no means to obey a system from which those who have are freed?

Is our Social Security also following the cynical principle that “whoever pays is in charge”, this time referring not to an individual but to what is imposed by a public unit?

It is clear, resoundingly clear, that what hurts the poor relative to the rich, even though the rich also have to pay out of pocket, is not egalitarian, is not socialist.

Not right? Well, why is it being done or is it still being done?

I think that is the main thing I had to say, and now you will tell me if you agree with us, or us, or us.

I'm looking forward to talking.

KimPérez 05-02-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Once the theory and mathematical formulation of fuzzy sets of sex-gender have been established, the practice of this reality and this conception must be faced.

I remember, now, that it is set about

=1. A unisexual foundation for all humanity (two nipples plus a genital tubercle) then more or less developed in one direction.

=2. Identity (awareness + valuation + imitation) as a personal position in the Non-binary.

The first aspect, objective, extends the Non-binary to all of humanity, at the same time that it records the existence of two statistical attractors that diffusely group almost all humans around them.

The second, subjective, shows the numerous subjective identities, one per individual, that are grouped by affinities or “fuzzy sets of identity”.

Let's see the objective foundation of Non-binary. The initial unisexuality of human development is very observable until the seventh week, in which the action of androgens begins to define the being in gestation.

Androgens act diffusely, forming a single set of greater or lesser androgenization of the various individuals, but bringing them more or less closer to the two statistical attractors, with what there is:

=1. More androgenized or macho people, closer to the male attractor.

=2. Less androgenized or female people, closer to the female attractor.

=3. Intersex people, further away from each other.

General androgenization can range from a value of 0 to a value of N (empirical maximum), forming a quantitative continuum, so that each of these classes is objectively made up of a multitude of people, each with whom they have been formed with a particular degree of androgenization.

But there are signs that a differentiated cerebral androgenization also occurs, which forms a continuum that does not have to coincide with the previous one, and that causes basic sexuality or sexual behavior as well as a part of gender, or sexual behavior mediated by biography and culture.

= = =

Theory and practice form the same reality, with two different moments. Theory is born from practice and practice is born from theory, but a moment of abstraction (which may be missing) and a moment of interrelation with the human and non-human environment are distinguishable, guided by the general visions that are available and by reasoning of immediate scope.

For many cultures, for many people, practice (interrelationships) dominates existence and they can barely count on a theoretical detachment to see it with sufficient perspective.

This study tries, precisely, to provide that perspective, so that it is possible to free oneself from the immediacy and pressure of facts, and enter a way of life in which practice and theory can dialogue; something that, today, is urgent for intertranssexual people.

= = =

The first practical consequence of a theoretical view like this is a cognitive, observant distancing of all conscious beings from their sexual reality.

Until they get there, most consider that they “belong” to one sex; that is to say, they naturally and willingly, but irremediably, obey the norms that a largely unwritten Gender Code imposes on them.

When he understands this point of view, the conscious being discovers that he "has" a sexgender that is also complex and unique, as if founded on a personal biological and biographical formula, which generates an identity formed by conceptualizations and evaluations.

This identity also gives rise to feelings of affinity and disaffinity in relation to the two great statistical attractors, on which human (identity) genders are based.

Arriving at this point, it is clearly noticeable that the Fuzzy Set Theory of Sex-gender refutes the traditional vision of "belonging" to a bodily sex and replaces it first, with that of a personal awareness of one's own biological and biographical realities and second, by an affinity with other people who are more or less close or distant from the great statistical attractors, who exist only abstractly.

The second practical effect that this theoretical vision produces is that of “relief” (according to some communicants) or relaxation of identity tensions, produced basically by the notion of “belonging”, which includes obedience to the norms of an impersonal Gender Code.

The awareness that there are no superpersonal norms, but the recognition and development of the personal way of being, allows this relief. The affinities, or genres, are not imposed, but rather a voluntary personal affiliation, conscious of what has been given, what has been earned and what is desired in the course of life.

This voluntary affiliation is only prevented by the Binary Gender Code, to the extent that its inspiration in common sense, which is limited, not comprehensive, provides for the imposition from birth, of belonging even to intersex people (real) to the only two legal sexes.

Once the next legal reform is completed, which will be the suppression of the mention of sex from the marital status, since it no longer means any legal differentiation, the way will be opened for each person to decide for themselves, as they arrive at full consciousness, what will be your situation in relation to the two great statistical attractors.

Most people will gladly declare themselves to be part of the area of ​​influence of one or the other.

There will once again be very virile men and very feminine women (early gender discussions have led to displeasure based on the "one gender" option), because there will be personal expression of personal realities; strength, hardness, will continue to have their place like tenderness or the desire to conquer; this form of beauty will shine again, once freed from any coercive imposition.

By the way, this personal expression will often be linear in relation to the phenotypic (apparent) body, but because it derives from forms of consciousness, other times it will be intersex or transsexual.

Even within the area of ​​influence of the two statistical attractors, that is, being conscious beings who agree to function as men or women, there will be both less virile men and less feminine women, and reflection or sensitivity will continue to have the same importance as now; there will be feminine men (but men) and masculine women (but women) like today and they will be respected and respected.

But it is also possible to suppose that a certain number of conscious beings will declare themselves more or less distant from the great statistical attractors.

What defines sentient human beings is consciousness, certainly not membership of a sex.

Conscience must decide either the affinity of each one with the conscious beings attracted by one of the two attractors, or the affinity with those not attracted by any of them.

Those of us who place ourselves more or less within that minority can assume a multitude of identities, even individual ones.

This is a factual, empirical finding, not deduced but observed, and therefore open to variations in reality; I will try a relationship.

=1. There may be conscious beings whose gender-sex identity is expressed in the negative. They do not want, they do not intend to unite bodily. Your conscious being actually prevails over any sex-gender determination. His love, his desire, will be more conscious than bodily, similar to that of good or bad angels. Many of the mystics find themselves in this situation.

You can see in the modern denial of the existence of these people, strongly intellectualized, the limits of a certain cultural form, the contemporary one, and the dictatorship of silence: there is no such thing as what is not understood and what is not understood is not understood. shut up.

For this reason, if this negative identity is now painful, it will be more due to the cultural lack of referents that allow everyone to understand themselves.

=2. There may be sentient beings that assume a functionally paradoxical identity on an aesthetic basis. I have seen the nudes of a beautiful Italian transsexual in which the male genitalia blend naturally into the shape of a female body; that irrational but perfect image, which cannot be explained, but can be shown, could generate a paradoxical identity: “I am neither a man nor a woman; I am a beautiful being."

=3. Other sentient beings assume an identity as ambiguous or dual, founded on their own ambiguous character. They are understood not as clearly defined, but as more or less ambiguous. They enjoy their feminine masculinity or their rude, masculine, femininity, which sometimes allows them unusual attitudes. They are affirmed within the zone of influence of one of the great attractors, but very nuanced by the proximity of the other. An ambiguous man, an ambiguous woman. They play, in a way, with the two attractors at the same time.

=4. There are sentient beings who understand themselves as fully intersex, without any duality. They know that the behavioral facts that arise from their way of being are, from their origin, singular, neither masculine nor feminine. When looking at their own memories, they see in them their self-referenced attitude, sensitive to their own impulses more than to any external model.

And there may be more possibilities that would be included in this list as some people explained their own experiences.

The plus and minus of the fuzzy sets may preside over the notion of reality as it presides over reality itself; they will not try to hide it by nervous obedience to the Gender Code, formally abiding by it, boasting of their obedience, becoming exasperated at any breach of said code.

= = =

From all of the above, another practical consequence of this approach can be deduced, which is the evidence for everyone that the entire sexuation is made up of a continuum of more or less intermediate realities, to the point that it can be said that we are all more or less less intersex.

The two statistical attractors are abstract entities, not corporeal; they cannot be embodiments of a metaphysical masculinity or femininity; There is no such thing as the Perfect Male (without nipples...) or the Perfect Woman (without genital tubercle...) in bodily reality.

It can also be seen that the “more definitely indefinite”, more intermediate realities are not exceptional or pathological, but a natural expression of the same continuum of androgenization.

Therefore, there is no room for the well-intentioned inadvertent reassignment (in infancy) of intersex people, surgically, so that one of the two statistical attractors is best adjusted. It may be that, upon reaching the age of full consciousness, the person in this case rejects the reassignment and even feels mutilated.

Any intolerance of the parameters in which people who are furthest away from the statistical attractors move, on behalf of the closest ones, is also profoundly wrong, when they try to become universal models, ignoring also the vestiges of unisexuality that remain in their own bodily being: the most virile man has nipples and the most feminine woman has a clitorideopenian organ.

= = =

The dynamic of gender liberation necessarily includes, profoundly, that of gender non-binarism, the affirmation of the Non-binary. Both come historically from the feminist movement, and therefore it is convenient to reflect on the feminist movement, which emerged from conscious beings identified as women, to know where we are going.

From the great impulse expressed, in part, by the feminist movement, and in another part, by the gaylesbitrans movement that emerged from its example, has derived the full awareness of the Non-binary through the people most affected by the binary conventions, that we are the transsexuals.

Feminism was born from a form of gender oppression, that of conscious beings identified as women, and as a movement to liberate gender oppression, in contemporary society it has first achieved a large part of its liberating objectives, transforming it radically, and at the same time it has been awakening other human sectors to the awareness of the oppression of the Binary Gender Code.

First, it went to gays, lesbians and bisex; later, at, the and the trans, that we generate our own liberation movements; now the liberation is extended to the general population, which can already understand to what extent the rigidities of the Binary Gender Code stifle everyone and are a threat to everyone.

Now, the potentiality of feminism has always been limited by the binary of the time in which it was born and by the traditions that emerged at that time, which have frequently reduced it to a "defense of women against men". A corporatist, immediatist defense that does not take into account a more general perspective, because at the time it was born the concepts that required it had not yet been formed.

This is the conjunctural situation that, when it persists, leaves current feminism with a sense of stagnation from which it has to emancipate itself, although, after the theory was born within it, the same movement begins to embrace the practice quite naturally Non-binary and its consequences

The reiteration that must be got rid of comes from the inertia of a binary reduction of the understanding of the sex-gender system. The binary of our culture, taken for granted without criticism, has deformed the Theory of Patriarchy, which thanks to the non-binarist conceptual equipment we see that it is not a creation of "men", but of "binary men", and we perceive as the artificial creation of a cultural Binary, which oppresses not only people identified as women but also people identified as gay men and those who do not think binary.

It has to be said here, as an illustration of what binary masculinity means, that if the women who have suffered from the Binary are more and have suffered more subtly, even under cover of protection, homosexuals have suffered more violently, even the denial of their right to exist, death or beatings to death or expulsion from families for the simple fact of being homosexual.

In the future that is already beginning, the non-binarist conception of feminism sees it as a movement to liberate the entire Binary Gender Code, which fights in particular against patriarchy, understanding it as a binary artifice. In this fight, he can add all non-binarist males as partners, without presupposing a necessary biologist confrontation against them.

This feminist non-binarism explains why solidarity with other non-binarist groups (objectively) is easy and logical, such as those that currently make up the GLBT movement.

In the future, it can be expected that a single movement for the Non-binary unites all the current groups, then recognized as sectorial, and other new affinity groups, such as those of the new masculinities.

KimPérez 04-25-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Hhay who is transsexual from a stress. Or a very strong sentimental failure. This feeling can have a very long journey. And it has origins that attract attention. Let's see.

The requirements of the Gender Code on the affirmation of masculinity are much stronger than on femininity. It is natural, since the Gender Code privileges masculinity. Privileges have to be earned. Women are left to make do with what's left.

The codified demands on masculinity are made clear by the word “queer”. If you realize, in everyday language, in bar conversations over beer, anything can be a fagot. It is a fagot, for example, to express one's feelings. Or have them. The man must be hard, insensitive. Better brutal than tender.

In that line, going further, it is a fagot to talk. A true macho does not speak. He just leers, preparing for the attack (check out Westerns)

It sucks to take a shower. Or comb your hair for more than ten seconds. Not to shave, because it is with a blade, which shaves with pleasure the hairs and scratches the wet skin. But yes with electric razor.

Of course, it's a puss to sing. Or play the trumpet on a summer night. Or study. A boy who locks himself in his room to study and doesn't go into a bar is a fagot. The world is full of fags, actually, the sentimental ones, the artists, the scientists, the engineers...

Because whoever makes fagots is a fag (nothing to do with hetero-homosexuality)

It's sensual to imagine ten minutes with a male like that, really, even if it's more difficult to imagine living together. It attracts, with an animal rationality deeper than the other rationality. This is known by those who identify with the male attractor, and try to look like him and hide or cover up any fag whims.

For this reason, a good conversation between men is full of swear words, and when they want to caress each other, they turn their gestures towards a fake little fist, and of course they demand to earn money and everything that reaffirms that they are happy in that world of competition and that they deserve to live among men, and shout in football stadiums among colleagues, and the next day get fed up with commenting on the plays.

This is fine, to the extent that it is biologically useful, to the extent that it also encourages the release of androgens by pouring into girls, and to the other extent that it is truly voluntary on the part of the candidate. Our culture does not admit it Currently, politically correct, but in the stadiums and in the gangs there is a different culture, although now it is reduced to the rank of subculture... of the masses.

Serious newspapers don't talk about her, but sports newspapers do. The current major culture is feminine, and therefore queer. But male-identified sentient beings, while reading their journals, are on their own.

A world of guys... Perfect. Although that requires a continuous effort, and can be tiring.

It is a stress phenomenon, like what is called metal stress. A thin plate, an iron thread, are flexible. They can be folded. But fold them over and over again at the same fold, and suddenly... they break.

For men who have to make an effort to accommodate their masculinity to the ideal of the Great Attractor, it may be that in principle it does not mean bending the iron itself much; but the repetition of the movement tires; and suddenly, perhaps, the metal jumps and breaks.

And you can break, not masculinity itself, but the ideal of masculinity of the Great Attractor. If in the mind of the person who has experienced the rupture there is only the Great Attractor and the Great Attractor, all that remains is to try to go from one to the other.

On her sleepless nights, she begins to think about what her life could be like as a woman, and tells herself that it is much more relaxed. She wouldn't have to work to keep up. The women you imagine don't have to measure up. Pride is not necessary; they have no pride. There is no need to compete for the biggest car. They accept old and insignificant strollers. You don't need anything more than dressing up well, putting on makeup, and that's easy, even though they say “to be liked, you have to suffer”. Just like!

For that conscious being, tired to the brink of rupture, the dream of being like the Great Attractor begins to fill their imagination. The mirror can confirm it: it looks more or less alike, it can be.

The refusal to look like the Great Attractor can come from another cause: a failure as a man. In a memorable autobiography "Kathy Dee: A Transsexual Itinerary," the protagonist (brought up to emulate not a brother, but a smart and dutiful sister), throws herself into transsexuality in a few hours when, returning home one night, , he discovers his wife with another man; His implicit reasoning, under a torrent of feelings that incites him to flee that same night from his home, city and country, is "if I can't be a man, I'll be a woman." And he begins to try immediately, and with success.

That reasoning is a fallacy. All of us who have somehow done it to ourselves have been fascinated by the simultaneous presence of the two Grandea Attractors, as the only option. We had to go from one to the other. If we couldn't adjust, adapt, look like one, we had no choice but to look like the other.

Above all, the mirror, or the camera, seemed to give us that impression. In effect, an Image of a Woman appeared. On many occasions, androgens, acting outside of the mind, made it attract us, turn us on. It was an indescribable pleasure. If we had failed with other women, it was the chance to get even by creating a woman who couldn't leave our side. Go ahead, either one or the other, there is no other choice.

But, without realizing it, we were allowing culture, the human, to invade us like a dream that we had to daydream. The Gender Code made it very clear to us that there were only the two Great Attractors, two distant pyramids, illuminated at night. He continues to make it very clear, because in fact, he marginalizes us, although now it is less than before. And it prevents us from seeing reality, from leaving the matrix created by the machinery of our own minds.

Because reality is different, softer, softer, more affectionate. We exist. Just as we are. Also. We have always existed. Some, more similar to the Great Attractors, more identified with them in a natural and spontaneous way. Others, less. Some of us have the sex of angels and are attractive like them. We are beautiful in our ambiguity.

We should be able to simply live in our own way. And our society would have to forget about imposed Gender Codes and let us live and express ourselves, fully respecting our fagots (not just tolerating them), seeing in them the germ of culture, science, art, coexistence, beyond the simple biology of very macho men wanting women to be very feminine... which is fine too, but leaving those of us who don't fit that model to exist.

Our identity (the concept we make of ourselves and its consequent valuation) could elude the sharp harshness of the Fantasy of the Binary (There are and should only be Men and Women! Very masculine men and very feminine Women! Down, death to those who don't think like me!") and enter the soft real world.

In it, there are men, who are more or less masculine people, women, who are more or less feminine people, more or less distant from the Great Attractors, more or less intersex, or simply ambiguous...

It's a matter of identification, you can be a woman being trans or a man being trans or intersex being trans or ambiguous being trans...

For intersex or ambiguous sentient beings, the difficulties, the dramatic stress that trying to adapt to the Great Attractor or the Great Attractor has caused us, have been only an effect of our difference, with respect to both...

It may be that we have not been able to love, simply because we have tried, without success of course, to love like the Great Attractor or the Great Attractor, when we had to love in our own way.

Ambiguous love is also desired, fag love, don't believe... Many female-identified sentient beings desire more delicate people by their side and may not even desire panting penetration... Many male-identified sentient beings can wishing by your side stronger or hairier and more comfortable people than those identified as women...

And the children can come, within those fluid, unorthodox attitudes, in which the sperm can nevertheless flow and find an ovum, regardless of the gender life of that person, which if it is more or less intersex will be also in various ways...

Let's look at reality, and we will find all that

KimPérez 04-11-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

I am going to address the issue of the orientations of transsexual (or intertranssexual) people, referring only to the one I know best, which is mine... which is the lack of defined orientation , which looks like asexuality. I know that many trans people share it, and therefore it will be useful to talk about it.

Of the others, gynephilia and androphilia, I know from my friends that they are very defined. Gynephilia is so defined as to want to live with a woman all your life, and to want to maintain a lesbian-type relationship with her. As for androphilia, I know the passion, the continuous interest that arouses.

In two words, trans can be intensely lesbian or intensely straight. I can also say that once I had a relationship with a woman that I tried to make it lesbian; very caressing, very long, very relaxed; but it didn't stick. Could it have gone further?

In the mornings, when we parted ways, I had a feeling of physical fullness, jubilation. I was amazed to see how nature worked on its own, outside of my mind. However, everything was going well because we respected my inflexible conditions: no consummation, no genital contact.

I suppose that in other conditions, perhaps I would have let myself go, and there would have been a genital relationship, perhaps very passive, very casual, but it would have hurt me immediately in the sense of having lost my “trans virginity”, which I valued so much and I estimate, and perhaps it would have caused me other anguish that I will detail later.

In any case, that relationship was possible because I made clear what I could accept, at most: that it was lesbian.

I dare not speak more, as I have no more experience.

He made me see the existence in me of a sexual response, of bodily desire, a habit that called for repetition, and I don't know if I could have gone further.

Because, in general, what amazes me most in myself, on a daily basis, is the lack of desire.

In my early youth, between the ages of 19 and 23, I tried to have a girlfriend.

In fact, one night in Torremolinos, I met a young French woman, and we were dancing, going from a terrace to a venue.

When daylight broke, back at the pension we shared, in the garden, he kissed me long on the mouth. It was the first kiss of my life.

I went to my room, looking at my mouth in the mirror, and lay down. In the morning, I looked for her on the beach, and when I found her, I was amazed that she refused to let us stay together.

I immediately returned to Granada, and I was crying, or starting to cry without being able to contain myself, for two weeks. At the same time, I realized that it wasn't exactly love for the French girl that I felt, but love for love.

That same summer, I met another French boy, Philippe, by correspondence, in a homosexual magazine to which I wrote, I think with perfumed and maddening pages.

Philippe was something completely different for me, the friend, the older brother that I had always wanted, even though he was my age.

He lived what I couldn't live, and he knew what I didn't. In a first photo, he was almost naked, in a bathing suit, on the lawn of his house. He was the son of a diplomat, had traveled through Uruguay, the Republic of Congo-Brazzaville, and was going to Geneva driving himself! Every two for three.

Our relationship was established on special terms: he had continuous homosexual affairs, but he told me about them, and I was proud, even if I wasn't interested, because I was his confidant.

One fine day, he sent me another two photos, after practicing a season of bodybuilding; he was dazzling, blond and smiling, also in a swimsuit under the sun of the Côte d'Azur. I could admire him, but I thought I couldn't want him. If I tried to figure it out, the cloudy filled my imagination.

But I dreamed of his company, and actually envisioned myself enjoying myself by the sea with him.

The end of that story was very sad and complicated, and now it's beside the point.

In Granada, I tried to have girlfriends, although I was very shy and it was very difficult for me. Now I realize that those attempts were all sentimental efforts, not wishes that flowed like a torrent from my whole person, as I now see it do; or more exactly, if they were, and they made me tremble, the current lasted a few hours, not days, or weeks, or months, as happens to those who truly know what it is to desire.

I remember now, with astonishment, that since I was seven years old, more or less, I had gone to the house of a little girl whom I still remember fondly.

Her name was Isolde, and she was from a German family; She is tall for her age, more or less like me, brown-blonde like the Germans, with braids, shy and serious, leaning forward (perhaps insecure because of her height)...

They lived in a Carmen del Albaicín, a small villa with a beautiful garden, where there was room for a spacious chicken coop, where they raised chickens, rabbits and I think even ducks, with beautiful colored plumage, which went from one side for another wobbling.

My sister and I would go to that house brought by our German “grandmother”, and as soon as we arrived, I would go to a piece of furniture in the lower part of which there were stories and I would get absorbed in one of them.

I mean, I kept my distance from Isolde; and yet, so many years later, my memory of her is still sweet.

When we grew up, we never saw each other again; when I searched, with anguish, for some girl to love, I did not remember Isolde. However, now I think that, if I had remembered, I would have asked her out, and perhaps she would have accepted.

She is the only girl of whom I have an entirely positive memory. Would we have been boyfriends, would we have gotten married?

Maybe. Would we have had children? As I can freely imagine now, I imagine that we would have lived in a house with a sunny garden, with bushes and flowers, the walls coming out of the same earth, where the children could play, and I imagine so. I have known for years that I associate children with nature, and that I only imagine them being born in it and enjoying the trees and the earth under their feet. It may be that the house would have been the same Carmen as Isolde's parents, let's imagine.

I would have learned to love Isolde, more sentimentally of course, and to be moved by our existence, which would make me know so many beautiful things. My life would have gone the other way, which I can hardly imagine. Perhaps she would have healed my sores. Perhaps I would have been, from the age of twenty-four or twenty-five, a high school teacher and then a university teacher, as I truly was later, but without ups and downs or terrible jostling and anguish. We would have lived peacefully... I would have lived a sweetly routine life, with no more poetry than that of daily life... I would almost have been forgiven by a body that I would still have difficulties accepting...

Since that was not the reality, I followed a script that I predetermined and went out one afternoon with a pretty girl, with a broad white face and slightly slanted eyes, with character and an amusing look. But I didn't feel anything and I didn't go out again.

The one I liked the most in those days was a classmate, blonde and pretty, sentimental like me. And I liked him. But there was an insurmountable obstacle for me, who was looking for absolute perfection, and that is that I did not like the line of his chin on his pleasant face... Also now I realize that those unforeseen and demoralizing difficulties were my way of being telling myself : "No no".

With another girl that I dated, the insurmountable difficulty was her town, which seemed to me that I was going to be obsessed by certain characteristics... indirect..., that I am ashamed to repeat for how minimal they were. But in effect, they were my way of being, which made any courtship difficult for me, repeating to myself: "No, no..."

To make matters worse, I felt and still feel that almost unconscious fear, masculine, masculine homosexual, of the cave that exists in women, a bottomless, dark, immense cavern... the profound distaste for their corporeality, and for the smells that they speak of that abyss... above all, compared to the vegetal, floral, chestnut blossom smell, strong and disturbing, of sperm...

All of that, together, made it impossible for me to form a couple with a woman. Too many difficulties, too many latent rejections, more or less subtle!

With men, everything was much more conflictive, the rejections were much more evident, because in general, most, but not all, seemed ugly, poorly developed, with features that seemed too enlarged, normally endowed with a smell, not the seminal, not physical, which was repellent to me (or would it be the incompatibility of unconsciously perceived pheromones)

When I think sexually of a male, I usually feel it fragmented, I don't know how to express it, as divided into zones, not one, not unified. And often, as with a dark mist behind him, not the bright sun.

I've always thought I couldn't live stable with a man. In fact, when I see a heterosexual couple in a movie, I usually think "but what do you see in him?" (she to him) And “what a bad luck, her whole life with a man!”

If I think in strictly sexual terms, I feel that if I were to form a couple with a man, it would be like seeing a barrier, metallic, dark, always close, always in front of me, always preventing me from expanding, always wanting to escape and free myself .

And yet I know that I can have sex with a man, because although very little, I have had it, and I could have had many more.

They are very passive, very resigned, I take advantage of passivity, they let me do it, they leave me few memories.

Although sometimes, they can be exhilarating. Last summer I suddenly had a sexual fantasy of passivity, very intense, that lasted for two months without stopping, day and night, although it didn't seem possible, and it didn't seem possible.

He represented very tough men to me, some that I have seen in the movies, and others that I have known and admired or better, I have been strangely attracted to by their aggressive but contained face, their masculine elegance and the latent threat they conveyed.

It was such a primary feeling, so feminine, so elemental, that I had no doubt that it showed that I was a woman; that in fact, I could talk about him, understanding us, with any woman, finding a strange complicity, beyond what is politically correct, and I did so, at least with a friend, and that's how it was.

In this fantasy/experience, the fact that I was operated on was essential, that my body is now similar to that of a woman, and offered no resistance, but was carnally dominated by a big and strong man, before whom I was getting rid of

Naturally, in fantasy, which I had the time to convert day by day into a novel of more than a hundred pages, I was not tall and old as I am, but rather young and small. The right partner for that energetic and fearsome man.

The fantasy came with the first heat of summer, it stayed while morning, noon and night turned into sweat on my skin, one of the fluids of life, and it disappeared due to exhaustion and rationalization:

I told myself that there was no love in her, only desire. Desire! I am surprised now when I write this word. It's true, there was no love, because I had made the protagonist a brutish mafioso, very big, very fat, who barely spoke, with no face, because you couldn't see it, invented, since my scruples prevented me from putting the man who wanted me. I imagined, that there really existed, a man with eyes narrowed, as if in the sunlight, with tanned and tanned skin, with pursed and oblique lips, of whom I will only say that he resembled a western actor named Charles Bronson (you can look him up ) or David Niven, but in his hard side, and who brought together qualities that I could value and admire along with his fearsome toughness, he had been affectionate and protective of me, and of course, with a sense of elegance.

In other words, I know what desire is, even though it's so covered by layers and layers of unconscious repression, that I hardly see it, I don't know it's there until suddenly, it breaks, and it's the desire to a man, but of a class of men, not of all!

Also when I was cross-dressing, in front of the mirror, in solitude, I longed for a man to see me (some man, any man)

Never a woman. This may be because I need that kind of man that I don't normally think about, because I unconsciously want to forget myself over and over again, and also because my transsexuality is more superficially related to some desire or sentimental lack with other men.

Maybe because I felt frustrated, rejected, despised by the acquaintances of that moment –it was a hard truth: they strongly rejected me for being cheesy, sentimental, misfit; I didn't have a place next to them-and because I longed for the compensation that I dazzled them and yearned for my beauty, that they valued me as I knew they valued the women they desired?

This meant that I looked for certain qualities in men that I couldn't find. Hadn't he cried, shortly before, with that novel in which the lives of some English midshipmen, uniformed in white and disciplined -pure souls!- were told, sailing through the luminous immensity of the South Seas -adventure, beauty of the camaraderie! Wasn't that an expression of what I would have wanted to be?

Homophilia, love for one's fellow man, idealized, only love from the heart!

Actually, the same sentiment as Philippe!

That the bitter reality of life in Spain, far from idealistic, broken by a century and a half of cynical realism, made it impossible time and time again.

So many years later, I can only start, to understand myself, from the fact that I don't miss anything, being operated on.

I fit perfectly; I even like to imagine myself as I am, some kind of statue, that could be singularly beautiful, not a woman.

A different model of human being, which can be precisely defined as intersex, in non-binary terms.

If I had been lucky, I would have known love, even children, if not erotic enthusiasm. I have not had it; but I can look with admiration at all that reality that others know.

And even, to share her beauty, to be beautiful too, simply for being able to desire her.

KimPérez 04-04-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

We all wonder if there is a right to this or that fact and we all expect a reasonable answer. This is the essence of law, which is reasonable, and this is the foundation of the so-called natural law, which is nothing but rational law.

This right is said to be "inscribed in the hearts of all men", but not for any surprising reason, but because it will be in accordance with reason, and humans naturally seek reason since we are children and ask “why?” non-stop.

We understand very well that this right is the true one, the legitimate one, and that sometimes it has to be faced “from the heart of man” against erroneous, false or oppressive laws.

But if we feel that clear, what is that right?

When it comes to specifying, we find ourselves with the surprise that, often, it is difficult to do it to the agreement of all. It is easier to define what "there is no right" than to affirm the right.

This difficulty has led many, in modern times, to take the middle path, simplifying and saying: "the law is the law that men make, any law" (this is called "legal positivism, “what is on”), with which they intend to take away from the possible victims of that law their most sacred right, the protest (the tragedy “Antigone”, by Sophocles, is based on that conflict)

But there is an easier way to find out, thinking precisely about the abuses that humans have historically considered more clearly that there is no right to them.

Those abuses have led us for millennia to affirm this code:

“Don't kill.

Do not steal.

Don't lie.”

This is the small main list, which can be further developed into an infinite number of precisions, distinctions and consequences.

It can be detailed for example as follows:

“Do no harm”

“Do not abuse”

“Don't mock”

“Do not slander”

This is the heart of the rational law that is in the heart of all men.

Why? Because, if we look at them carefully, we find that these abuses, in their purest form, seriously damage human coexistence. If there are abuses being prohibited, you can imagine what coexistence would be like if they were allowed: "Kill, steal, lie!"

(In fact, in the chilling 20th century that has just passed, they have been recommended, although only to their comrades, by the Nazis and the Communists... And those regimes have existed)

Later, distinctions can be made between killing and killing in legitimate defense, stealing and stealing out of hunger, lying and lying out of pity, but we all know what we are talking about.

What it is about is defending orderly coexistence, which is the first human good, because we need this coexistence to raise ourselves, to feed ourselves, to develop our human intelligence, etc.

The practical reality of that coexistence that must be defended, its instinctive existence before any reflection, is what makes this rational right natural, and that its purposes are clear and convince us all.

Coexistence means coexistence of all, because if some were denied the right to live together, it could be reasonably feared that this right would be denied to others; Or where would the limit be?

And coexistence means respect for everyone, because if that respect were denied to some, how far would it go?

It will be seen that I am talking about transsexual and homosexual people, who, until recently, have been denied all respect and all rights to live on an equal footing with others, or are still largely denied .

Therefore, respect for transsexual and homosexual people is a natural or rational right, although it was never had, to which "there was no right" to receive it from others; It is true that those who were feared were respected above all, but that is not respect, it is precaution, a negative feeling that could easily turn into its opposite, when the powerful fell: "Señorito that on horseback / you go with so much gallantry/ if the horse fell/ another rooster would crow”.

True respect is consideration, the affirmative thought that we all have something in common. My friend Merche said it perfectly: “I am like you; if you hit me, it hurts; if you prick me, I bleed" (even the gentleman of the couplet would feel the pain; this is the true reason for the respect he deserves)

That consideration becomes the criterion of good and evil; the difference between those who do good, who are the ones who respect others, and those who do evil, who are the ones who disrespect them. An axiom of natural law says: "Do not do to another what you do not want done to you." It is so universal, so common to all cultures, that it is called “the golden rule”.

However, also for centuries and millennia, many of those who said this exempted homosexuals and transsexuals from all respect.

The natural law that they have violated against us is “not to kill”, since they have killed us or are still killing us for being who we are.

But also, those who consider themselves virtuous have forgotten, when referring to us, many other prohibitions of natural law; They have not respected "do not harm", nor "do not abuse", nor "do not mock".

Everything has been allowed: a free hand against homosexuals and transsexuals!

If told this, they would argue: "Is it that you are a mistake of nature or you are vicious or..."

We would answer only:

"So...?"

Asking for the logic and reason that would lead from that, if it were true, to legitimize the death penalty against us, or the abuses, or the contempt, or the mockery...

And, like Antigone, we have come to say, first in a low voice, then louder and louder: “There is no right”.

KimPérez 03-28-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

For two weeks now, I have been using the word “intertranssexuality”, because I am increasingly convinced that the intersexual fact and the transsexual fact are the same thing, although it is practical to continue using the two words for separately when we refer to the specific dimensions of each one. Not counting that there are those who prefer to use them together; I consider myself very “intertranssexual”, for example.

We know that intertranssexuality refers to an organic configuration far from those closest to the two abstract sexes, which are actually mathematical concepts, female and male statistical attractors (see previous Comments on this topic)

Intersexuality (without alluding to the trans fact), can be seen with the naked eye or with the help of instruments, and can be differentiated from the majority at the genetic level, or at the chromosomal level, or at the gonadal level, or at the the internal or external ducts, or in the phenotype or body appearance with the naked eye...

This is not a pathology, but a sample of the variability of living formations; It can be socially accepted without problems by the cultures that naturally integrate the Non-binary or, on the other hand, not be accepted by gender binary cultures, which do not understand that there is anything legitimate outside of the man-woman scheme (masculine-feminine, gynephile). -androphilous); with corresponding desolation.

Transsexuality was initially understood as a mental attitude: “a woman's soul locked up in a man's body”, but from the beginning there were also researchers who searched for the possible bodily reasons for this cross-appearing soul. Gilbert-Dreyfus, a great French specialist, had the intuition to include it among the intersexualities, although he did not know how to explain what exactly it consists of, from the organic point of view.

The hypothesis is entirely reasonable: since it can be shown that in animals and humans a part of sexual behavior derives from factors related to the brain, it can be deduced that cross-sexuality can derive from cross-brain factors.

Therefore, if we talk about the brain, we talk about the body, and about an intersexuality, although it is difficult to identify it given our incomplete knowledge of the functions of brain structures.

The next step was to try to identify those factors. There have already been some advances, such as the one known by Zhou, Hofman, Gooren and Swaab, that of Kruijver, that of Diamond and Hawk, but insufficient, given the smallness of the transsexual population and the difficulties of brain research.

= = =

In this waiting situation, an alternative came from the field of politics.

The Gender Perspective is not a scientific theory, but a political, practical position, generated in a sector of feminism, which maintains that human sexual behavior is entirely (I emphasize the “entirely”) a cultural construction and not a consequence biological, with which they try to modify one hundred percent the sexual behaviors (gender) of women and men.

In this position, and after some ups and downs, they found transsexuality very representative, which they understood as a demonstration that “entirely” masculine people could live “entirely” female lives.

That is, biology (sex) could go one way, and culture (gender) another, so we were a perfect example for biological women who claimed that “biology is not destiny” to emancipate themselves of a culture that, at the other extreme, maintained a suffocating biologist (rather than biological) determinism.

This position of radical genderism was also accepted by the mainstream of the gay movement, which rightly feared that any biological attribution of homosexuality would support the dire attempts at healing that have in fact hurt so many people so much.

Therefore, for many years, the hypothesis of a biological, intersex origin of transsexuality has been dismissed politically more than scientifically. And it has not been without reason, although exaggeratedly.

= = =

However, gradually, the Non-binarism of sex-gender, also born in the feminist field, has provided the evidence of an alternative to the alternative.

As we know, it affirms that the gender-sex reality is naturally variable and even fluid.

There is no closed set of “men” and another set of “women”, with everything else being pathological or unnatural, as was supposed from the binary criteria.

Nature generates a variability that goes from the most masculine to the least masculine or from the most feminine to the least feminine – as we all know very well in practice, but we did not know that it had a theoretical reason.

In this variability, some people are found not more or less close, but in equidistant positions of the two statistical attractors. All this is natural, and even convenient for the species. What would a humanity be like, made up only of hyperandrogenic, aggressive, strong and relatively brutish men, and very hypoandrogenic, shy and homely women, with nothing in between, when we are convinced that cultural wealth flourishes precisely in that middle ground, science and art?

No; The truth is that they are natural expressions of very different sex-gender, it is not possible to define two unique models that must be followed by all, they must be valued as diverse expressions of nature.

Identities are the recognition and acceptance of each one in their own being. In a proper sense, there are as many identities as there are human beings, although the presence of some male and female statistical attractors is also observed, to which each one approaches for reasons of affinity (for reasons of awareness of their affinity), although they can also decide to remain distant. from both.

To the feminist movement, the non-binary theory of sexgender tells that people identified as women can base their gender autonomy, without anyone imposing a "woman's role" on them, defined by another person, in which reality it is that only each one can define their identity and their affinities, since only each one knows or can exhaustively know their motivations.

As for people identified as homosexuals, they can justify their rejection of the imposition of a supposed cure, in which only that person can exhaustively know and assess, in a nuanced way, their own affectivity, which is, like all, infinitely nuanced. No one has the right to claim to know better an affectivity of others, since they enjoy the internal jurisdiction, the incommunicable subjectivity. "When he sings for me one morning, one bed, only I hear that song."

= = =

All this approach profoundly modifies the understanding of the current Gender Identity Units, so vital for intertranssexual people.

In the first place, all the intertranssexual people who come to them must be presupposed as intertranssexual by the simple fact of arriving, since there is a principle of human communication by which it is not possible to objectively observe the subjectivity of others, let alone judge it, and since any identity other than the majority can be considered in principle natural.

Professionals must renounce the concept of “true transsexual” (or “not-true transsexual”) that founds them, and that supposedly gives them the right to decide for themselves what another person's identity is, and in doing so , decide on their destiny, their happiness or unhappiness.

What professionals can take into account is that intertranssexuality assumes as many nuances as people and that the specific person who comes to their consultation may need clarification of their feelings.

All the people of our culture are more or less impregnated by our cultural binary. All or almost all of us would say that “if I am not a man, I will be a woman”, or if “I am not a woman, I will be a man”, seeing in our imagination one of the two statistical attractors. One of two. This is binary.

This is how professionals also see it, no less impregnated with binaryism than we are (I will say it like this), but generally more: “If you are not a man, you will have to be a woman”, or “if you are not a woman, you will have to be man” (only one of only two possibilities)

Some transgender people will say, “Okay. That is exactly what I intend. My identity is that of a man” (Or of a woman) Unequivocally. His identity, his understanding of himself and his evaluation of himself, is fully on the side of one of the two attractors.

This would be possible to understand by a biological, cerebral explanation, completeable by a biographical explanation, and perfectly respectable and natural.

And other intertranssexual people would say no, that for example, not being a man does not mean being a woman, but something else, which does not yet have a name, ambiguous to something like that, or a woman, but in my own way (something perfectly logical, frequent and natural, than many women understand!)

We would be somewhere in the middle. We have said that identities are concepts and valuations, and for them to be formed it is necessary to have those concepts and conceptual valuations.

If this is not available, a binary, false culture generates terrible conceptualizations: “but what am I?”; "I don't know what I am!", feelings of guilt, shame, family conflicts, work disasters, oscillations from one extreme to another, hesitations, regrets, counter-regrets, gushing pain, and not produced by the intertranssexual condition, which is natural , but by binary, which does not understand it.

This is what the professionals of the Gender Units will do in the future: clarify to the people who use them the reality of the non-binary of sex and gender, the differences in approach with the ideology of binaryism that we are still suffering.

The essential function of psychologists will be to dialogue with users and clarify their concepts if they are not clear.

They can make them distinguish between gender dysphoria and genital dysphoria, as different entities, often together but many other times, alternatives, so that one can exclude the other, without by themselves meaning more or less femininity or masculinity (many times, paradoxically, it is the opposite)

You can explain to them that only in genital dysphoria is genital surgery indicated. But, unlike what happens now, they will make them see that their assistance will continue even if they decide not to do the genital surgery.

(Right now the Units are conceived with very simple and already archaic criteria: a man-woman binary (and nothing else) and an itinerary with only three stations: psychological authorization, hormones and surgery)

But assistance is still necessary as a psychological consultation, freely requested (not as, alas, meddling, as it is now), as endocrinological supervision, as attention to plastic surgeries that improve personal insertion...

This assistance, with a view to informed consent, can even be foreseen as temporarily necessary for genital surgeries, but making it clear to the user from the first moment that the final decision, sufficiently informed, will be theirs, and only it can and should be yours, which should even assume the right to make mistakes for itself. The denial of any guardianship! Letting me know myself and decide for me!

With someone else's enlightened advice, which I would appreciate, but for me.

I don't know what the collective and generalized experience of the non-binary of sexgender will be like in the future. Being all the experiences of our fluid and free identities, it will not be traumatic. Not being traumatic from our childhood, having always been able to express ourselves naturally, perhaps we consider our whole being with its complex naturalness, seeing that it is inserted fluently in the Non-binary continuum.

This may even mean, I don't know, that in many stories, the fluidity of identities and cultural acknowledgments does not make surgery necessary, or sees it as replaceable by a stem cell process that even makes maternity or paternity possible crusades, or any of the wonderful surprises that we can expect.

KimPérez 03-14-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

As I approach seventy I am troubled by the lack of practical perspectives to give my life interest. Even in his dimension as a transsexual person.

However, yesterday March 2, 2011, I felt that something could make these years full of meaning: work for ethics.

The reason for this sense is to note that ethics is today the first of our problems in Spain. We find ourselves confused and scattered in our options. We have the feeling that we are losing ourselves and even becoming extinct as a nation, due to an inverted demographic pyramid in which there are fewer and fewer children.

And yet, Spanish culture has historically been very sensitive to ethics; We have been, like all of us, a people of sinners but very aware of what a human life should be like.

A life that is beautiful, pleasant to see, if it is ethical, and deep down painful if it is lived in confusion or not to mention if in corruption.

This is the beauty that motivates me to see in our lives and gives me the incentive to work for it while I still have the strength.

And even more so when I know that there is a common language that we can all speak naturally: that of rationality, that of reasoning, that of what is reasonable, that we can all recognize, even if that recognition costs time and work.

Rationality is often not found immediately; It's hard for us, we usually find only fragmentary chains of rationality that we don't know how to get to their origin.

Like a child at the age of its full rationality, when it accumulates the whys, we often find ourselves with an ultimate whys to which no one knows the answer.

However, with what we already know, it is possible to go deep enough, and define an ethic with deep enough reasons for it to be possible to base a coexistence on its reason.

And, naturally, see in a new way the reality of transsexual people, those who are like me, and delve into the whys and wherefores of our ethics.

= = =

I have considered in Mathematics the being of the forms that inspire the material forms, but I have to go beyond the static forms and also consider the should-be or the doing: Ethics.

Ethics has to focus on human knowledge, because it is our specific characteristic, our peculiar vocation. Homo sapiens.

=Human knowledge starts from memory (analogue: computing)

Our memory starts from 0, increases, and always returns to 0 (bodily death)

=Memory is processed. A part of the processing, through communication, becomes extracorporeal memory.

=We are living beings, processors, intuiters and desirers. The desire for knowledge is curiosity, interest, the will to know. No limits, everything. Therefore, processing tends to infinity.

Or, put another way, a computer program that picks it up must remain open.

=The tendency to infinity starts from 0. The knowledge accumulation process can return to 0 (planetary destruction) or reach infinity.

=This option takes us into Ethics.

For knowledge there is a good and an evil.

The good is everything that allows the accumulation of knowledge.

Evil is everything that prevents or destroys it.

This good and this bad can occur in personal or collective life.

Constant work, learning, and study are forms of good, because they build knowledge.

Laziness, vices, violence, are forms of evil because they destroy it. In the fifth century, the fall of the Roman Empire produced an immense loss of collective knowledge.

Hate is particularly destructive, because it is the passion of destruction.

Procreation, the succession of generations, is good because it allows us to continue accumulating knowledge.

Knowledge is power over nature and seeking a way out of spacetime and materiality that oppresses us; the departure from spacetime will always be retroactive; liberated humanity will save all humanity.

=Suffering is the great engine of the yearning for liberation.

Either it kills us, or spurs our spirit, at least in its cries. It makes us yearn for liberating knowledge.

=In relation to knowledge, suffering is therefore good.

= = =

Reflection on Mathematics and Ethics can focus on intertranssexuality in this way:

=It is a natural condition, coming from the quantitative dimensions of the Non-binary of sex-gender.

In other words, it is a degree of natural variability that is expressed in a non-binary way, and that ranges, more or less, from a female attractor (statistical or “strange” – mathematical slang) to a male one ( also statistical or “strange”)

Both are abstractions, not material beings. We material beings are all more or less close to or far from these statistical attractors.

Each person, more or less, presents advantages and disadvantages.

Since this Non-binary is formed in relation to the greater or lesser androgenation of the child during gestation, it is necessary to understand the function of testosterone, which masculinizing intertranssexuals know very well:

=Increases muscle strength

=the aggressiveness

=the speed of reflexes

All of which are useful defensively.

But, for that very reason

=Decreases reflection

=self-observation

= serenity

On the other hand, it has been empirically observed that women whose testosterone endowment is 0, are

=Extremely motherly

=but sterile

This tells us that the variability of the Non-binary of sex-gender is very convenient for the species, since the variety of functions that we fulfill in a very complex social life like ours is based on it.

Therefore, when assessing the fact of intertranssexuality, the name we give to the people who find ourselves in the most intermediate area between the attractors, no pathologization or blaming for the intertranssexual reality itself is adequate to reality.

Statistically very few, we have our own advantages and disadvantages, like all other positions.

Among the former, which have not yet been scientifically studied, there is probably a unique relationship between the two attractors, which can sometimes not be characterized as “half man and half woman”, but rather as “masculine and feminine”, at the same time, or “entirely intertranssexual”.

The capacities for the comprehensive understanding of the human, beyond the differences between the masculine and the feminine, and for the mediation between both attractors, are great.

Often its ambiguity is intuitively appealing, and even fascinating, because of its unusualness.

The biggest drawback is that we often fail to mate and procreate.

Personal reasons for yes or no are highly nuanced, so they cannot be generalized; but it can be said that our bodily or cerebral distance from heterosexual fusion requires considerable difficulties to be overcome in this regard.

These difficulties can be the source of great suffering, both in those who manage to procreate and in those who do not.

But I have already stated that suffering, in itself, is not bad, but rather a stimulus or incentive to look for various vital outlets.

Express our limits; and it must be accompanied by our will to overcome them, putting only infinity as the mathematical limit of that trend.

KimPérez 03-07-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

Anight, Friday, I was redrafting this text, when I thought I could send it to the Digital Transsexual Journal. Those who are not specialized in these issues will have to read it slowly; but I trust that it will be understood by all who want to read it.

In the 21st century, I study Mathematics (or Meta-mathematics: I reflect on what Mathematics is)

They are a logical activity; Logic means that you can talk about them coherently, consistently.

Coherence or consistency constitutes the center of mental activity that is built on the assumption that the reality to which it is applied is equally coherent or consistent: if it were not, we would not be able to speak coherently.

The postulate of coherence is also that of meaning; everything must make sense, since we can talk about it coherently.

I wonder if Mathematics is out of my mind (classical)

or inside (constructivists)

I see, empirically, looking at Nature, that

=1. Bees draw hexagonals (to save wax)

=2. The stars are spheroids (due to gravity)

=3. Here and there a tendency to the golden number or “divine proportion” is observed (especially in plant forms)

I conclude:

Classical Mathematics (whose relationships are exact) define limits or attractors to which matter tends, without reaching them (I see the resemblance of this idea with Plato)

As all this happens before there were humans, Mathematics is outside the human mind and organizes or governs the forms of matter.

But there are some margins or differences between the material forms and the exact mathematical forms.

If material beings (such as humans) were exactly mathematicians, we would all be

=same

=invariable

=eternal

Which is not the case.

This objective margin between exact Mathematics and matter is also discovered in the study of subjective abstraction or reasoning.

We form our concepts

=finding what there is in common between different realities and

=giving it a name.

Therefore, what is not in common, what is unique, what makes us unique, what is singular, what is non-mathematical-exact of each material reality, is

=inconceivable

=but accessible to intuition, which empirically we know sees its uniqueness; intuition is the kind of thinking or representation that is practiced in art and love or hate.

(The margin of inconceivable and not mathematizable is exactly what founds human differences and, among them, intertranssexuality or homosexuality)

I go deeper:

Newton elaborated the exact-mathematical formula of the law of gravity.

According to the above, it could have been predicted

=that the material reality of gravity will approach those exact mathematical relationships, but will never reach them;

= and this is what empirical experimentation constantly verifies.

(The same can be said of Einstein: from exact mathematical deductions, on paper, he deduced that a non-Euclidean geometry governs great distances, but research proves that it is not and cannot be exactly)

Therefore,

=material beings tend to the exact mathematical perfection of their forms

=that do not reach it, because they would stop being material, becoming theorems.

This is the justification for our individual existence, as beings other than rational perfection, but tending towards it.

This also occurs in our relationships: this explains the difference between material and possible justice and perfect or exact or impossible justice.

This insurmountable distance between (exact) Mathematics and matter suggests that (exact) Mathematics is not from this material world; that they are not only outside of the human mind but outside of matter.

The proximity-distance between material reality and exact logical-mathematical perfection makes one wonder if

=Is material reality, not the mathematical forms to which it tends, logical enough to be

=sufficiently coherent (or consistent), that is,

=make enough logical sense?

The answer within closed logic is “no”; in it, the statements are logical or not; but within fuzzy logic, the answer is “more or less”.

=There is indeed a closed logic, which forms its mathematical sets on a “yes or no” (noted as “equal-unequal”)

=And a fuzzy logic that forms its mathematical sets on a "more or less" (discovered by Lotfi Asker Zadeh, Doctor honoris causa by Granada, among many other distinctions)

=Fuzzy logic is applied with more or less coherence or consistency (not absolute) to material beings and their material relationships.

Let us examine as an example a material process, that of human sexuality.

In it appear empirically, not necessarily (it could be in another way, like the ternary division of bees), two attractors that seem qualitative, not quantitative, masculinity (M) and femininity (F)

But human beings differ in pregnancy through a quantitative process, androgenization, which can go from 0 to N (empirical maximum)

This numerical process therefore forms a continuum, in which femininity is defined by values ​​close to 0, masculinity by values ​​close to N, and intersex (objective) or transsexuality (subjective, identity) by values ​​close to the midpoint.

Fuzzy sets of sex are thus formed that can be talked about coherently and are therefore logically consistent although in fuzzy terms, characterized because the elements of the sets are so by "more or less", not by "yes or no" ”.

These fuzzy sets are therefore related to a numerical continuum, mathematically consistent in itself. But,

=The material divisions M, I and F cannot be established at intermediate points exactly determined in that set by a “yes or no”, but rather in diffuse areas characterized by a “more or less”. AND

=Although each determined material reality has a certain numerical form of androgens, this cannot be calculated exactly to insert it with absolute precision in the continuum. Hence

=There is still a distance between the material form and the mathematical form that governs it.

In general, when considering the material forms that appear before us, we find:

=A closed logic, of “yes or no”, is not applicable to them.

=A fuzzy logic is applicable to them, of “more or less”. So, considered spatiotemporally,

=The fuzzy logical form that best describes them is history.

The story is not exact, but it tends to be exact only in the minor or major correspondence of its narration with the facts that it wants to refer.

KimPérez 02-28-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Sometimes you have to agree (in part) with the anarchists (remember "Neither boss, nor State, nor God") We have a State (among others) that has become so extremely interventionist, who can destroy our lives under the pretext that it is for our good, or that they know better than we what is our good. This is especially true for transgender people.

Said more fairly, even in the free West, States tend to be interventionist, and more so the more organized, disregarding any hint of freedom or personal autonomy. We have seen heartbreaking situations in the United States, for example, with interventions in which they claim to know better than each citizen what is good for them.

In this matter, a legacy of enlightened despotism is not unseen: “Everything for the people, but without the people”.

Paradoxically, the victims of this intervention tend to be the weakest, or those who are personally strong but socially vulnerable, who do not have the personal or collective resources to moderate the state. It is hard to imagine anyone in good or very good position, personal or political, suffering such abuses; You will always find a way to defend yourself.

Among the weak, perhaps the weakest of the weak (remember Dominique Lapierre's opinion), or the most vulnerable, we are transsexual people, whom it is easy to try to humiliate, using any other pretext, in this age of political correctness, always “for our good”, or what is worse, “for the good of ours”.

Of course, those who think like this do not take into account the pride and gallantry with which we transsexual people usually react when we have assumed our social situation. I am not trying to make a victim, but to expose situations, to take into account what our responses may be.

Let's look, for example, at the attitude of the Gender Units.

First, they are aimed at transsexual people who do not have the means to pay for private healthcare.

Therefore, to those who add another vulnerability to their vulnerability as transsexuals, due to their modest or few resources.

And then, they use the brutal resource that “who pays, rules”.

Those of us who have been able to pay, or had to pay, in times when Social Security did not exist for our operations, or who right now can afford that freedom, are aware of the extent to which we have led in the process of our reassignment

But, to the extent that the State claims to be an expression of rationality (Hegel) we cannot impassively watch how arbitrariness and irrationality re-impose themselves, taking advantage of that primitive command.

We see it, in general, in the denial of personal autonomy to decide the transsexual process; personal autonomy that prudence advises to be informed, of course, but only informed, leaving the final decision to the applicant.

To put it more clearly: that the Gender Identity Law be modified in the sense that it stops imposing on psychologists the role, which does not correspond to them, of judges in the practice of transsexual people, and masters of our destiny , to the extent that they rule on our identity.

They decide our identity! The State assumes that they know who we are better than we do! This is the greatest example of state interventionism that can be imagined: the State decides to replace our internal jurisdiction, said with all the legal value of the expression.

Another thing will be when the State, accepting rational evidence, assumes that psychologists should only inform us during a prudential time, especially to avoid false expectations and erroneous interpretations of what the transsexual process is; making it clear, always, that at the end of that prudential time, the decision will be ours and only ours, and therefore ipso facto turning the psychologists of the Units into our friends and advisers, which they are not currently.

And within the current interventionism of psychologists, rooted and supported by the interventionist State, I have to mention the so-called Real Life Experience, which many times should be called Unreal Life Experience, because it gives them power to replace our Criterion and common sense in terms of time, arrangement according to our reality and our wishes, consideration of our family and work realities, about which only we know in all its complexity and no one else can know without our free consent.

I call it the Unreal Life Experience, because it tries to impose a way of life on us with alien criteria. Real Life is the one we carry in our daily practice. It is true that sometimes we are clearly too prudent, and we can be advised in this sense, of course advise, but never impose, and even less when we claim, with reasons that only transsexual people have to know, that these impositions will be traumatic (dismissals , family crises, etc.)

And if we're wrong, we've been wrong, at our expense! Transsexual people are adults, enough to be able to decide freely and count on mistakes. And it's better to be wrong yourself than to let someone else be wrong for you.

And if we cannot consent to State interventionism in our identity, we cannot consent to it either, unbalanced and without any moderation, in Social Services.

Transsexual people suffer, due to the fact of being transsexual, yet another vulnerability: we tend to be poor.

A group that, according to some studies, suffers from 80% unemployment, is a group that tends to be poor. If 20% of those who work (it seems an optimistic estimate to me) do so as self-employed, in small family businesses, or as State officials (what a lot of luck, for the few and few who get it!), it will remain that those who do not have resources to be civil servants or civil servants of the State or autonomous or autonomous, they are 99% of the transsexual population. That is to say, they are poor.

And it seems to me that, for certain Social Services at least, being poor is being at risk, and therefore, can justify their intervention.

A visit to a house, a discovery that some rent receipts have not been paid, or that it does not have a toilet, or does not have a modern toilet, or that the separation of the adult and children's rooms children is not complete, or that the running water is precarious, or that the stairs are dark and dirty, of any of the circumstances that accompany poverty, can you justify the separation of parents and children, arguing that they are in risk of exclusion?

In the 19th century, a proletarian was defined as “he who had nothing but his offspring”. In the 21st century, is the company of his offspring going to be taken away from the proletarian, alleging that his poverty puts it at risk of exclusion?

In the welfare society, or the ex-welfare society we are in at the moment, is the State going to be so ridiculously materialistic that it is going to deny that the greatest good of any family is its union, putting all the signs ahead? of material well-being?

Transsexual people can also be subtly discriminated against, alleging that their children are taken from them not because they are transsexuals, but because they are poor, which in most practice can be the same.

Transgender people have to defend our families!

KimPérez 02-21-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Aa transsexual girl goes out into the open at night in Tenerife.

She's pretty and tall; from then on, she goes through joys and calamities. She has to fight for herself, to survive.

It is found in the depths of social life; below everything, below the poorest, are transsexuals (This is how Dominique Lapierre saw it, in "The City of Joy")

He goes to Madrid; survive. Sometimes, he sees the other world, that of the respectable. Although it seems like a chimera, he clings to it, as far as he can. It is the world of middle-class apartments, that of political combat, that of defending all those below. Sometimes it passes in front of the Palace of the Two Lions.

In the midst of those matches, he finds himself having to perform one very personally. He hesitates, because she could lose everything, but he decides because he has to be able to look at his transsexual companions face to face. He does the combat. The Gender Identity Law comes out.

Almost four years later, she, a transsexual person, by decision of Tomás Gómez, can be elected deputy to the Madrid Assembly. From the streets of Tenerife to a place where you can fight every day for the general interests and, of course, for the interests of transsexual people, those of us who until recently were the last of the last, whether they were showing their faces or in the deepest of the inner prisons of shame, guilt and fear.

“Balance!”

This is not just a personal story, but a deeply collective story.

We are the first generation, only twenty years ago, to achieve freedom and collective respect.

Just thirty years ago, we were sissies at best who had to earn a humble place in society at the cost of being funny.

Who had the courage to face that prospect. Like La Paca from Puerto de Santa María, who stopped a procession by standing in the middle and shouting “Death to Franco! Death to Franco!"

Or like Marieta and Bárbara, twin sisters, who by force of innocence ended up in the Huelva Prison.

Others of us did not have such courage. And this was normal, courage and fear, for years and years, going into the depths of centuries, centuries and more centuries, millennia.

This is what transgender and gay people have known for millennia. This is what even we have known, that to describe the horror, we only have to resort to personal memories, almost forgotten, because human beings tend to forget everything bad and remember only the good.

We are so first generation, that the divide passes through our own lives.

A little over a century ago, a talent like Oscar Wilde was sentenced to public humiliation and hard labor for being gay. It does nothing, right now, now, despite what we have achieved in some nations, today, in the year 2011, that silence is the pain that soaks, continues to soak, many transsexual and homosexual lives.

I only have to look at some dear friends to understand that pain, which is not a thing of the past, but of the present that begins with the cold and gray light of this particular morning.

Speak up! Just talk! Just being able to talk! It is not what we have achieved. It is what we are achieving, for the first time in the history of millennia, here and now.

When someone opposes me the topic against Gay Pride that "I don't know what they're proud of", I would answer: This! To live normal lives! To have survived!

To be fair, I have to remember the entire collective dimension of this miracle that we are experiencing.

Of that small demonstration of sissies, of Carolinas, protesting the destruction of a urinal (a meeting place), which took place in Barcelona in 1933, from Paralelo, through Sant Pau, to Las Ramblas and Colón, and of which Jean Genet has kept universal memory, in "Journal du voleur" (I read it to Didier Eribon)

Perhaps the first in the world, in the revolutionary Barcelona that would later see the challenges of Ocaña and Nazario!

From the Stonewall bar fight, in 1969, starring the Puerto Rican transsexual Sylvia Rivera, whom, as part of so many miracles, I was able to meet in Bologna in 2000. Rest in peace, comrade!

In our Peninsula, of the new manifestation of transsexuals in Barcelona, ​​that very brave one from 1977, as I think I remember, when everything was still dangerous and compromised, at the beginning of the Transition. Always the transsexuals in the vanguard!

From the foundation of Transsexualia, in Madrid, in 1987, the first of our associations, arising from the need for real solidarity among those who could not have any other livelihood than prostitution.

Of the efforts of Ben Amics, from Palma de Mallorca, the first that I know of in the parliamentary sphere. Surely I forget many vanguards! Forgive me!

From the invitation to the plenary session of the Parliament of Andalusia, on February 11, 1997, the first time that transsexual people officially entered a Parliament and were respectfully greeted by all parliamentary groups. I remembered what so many generations of sissies would have said or cried, when humiliated! Rosa Pazos Torres had to be there, and she was not. May he rest in peace too. We were Merche Camacho, María Banderas, our friend Lola Izquierdo, a psychologist who was with us, and me. And it was thanks to the initiative and efforts of another friend, Deputy Carmen Molina.

From the session of the Congress of Deputies on April 14 of the same year, 1997, proposed by the IU deputy Inés Sabanés, seconded by the socialist deputy Ángel Díaz Sol, worked on by the gay activist Andrés de la Portilla, in the one that for the first time our affairs reached the Cortes, and that achieved the unanimity of all the groups, although later it came to nothing due to the handling of the PP.

Of so many battles for apparently individual rights, in the Treasury, in the General Directorate of Prisons (for the rights of inmates and also of civil servants), in the Civil Guard, in the Navy, in the Army, for the rights of guardianship of children, for work, battles that were actually collective, for our rights and those of every human person.

From the 2007 Gender Identity Law, promoted by this person whose work I am talking about today, and supported by Andrea Muñiz, Gina Serra, and many other people such as Joana López, José Mantero and Jaume d'Urgell, and many more who sought, for example, the Red Cross protocols to address hunger strikes, or Lynn Conway and Stephen Whittle, who covered this initiative abroad; reason that was seconded by Pedro Zerolo, with the acquiescence of De la Vega and Zapatero.

And so we come to 2011. And to the May elections, which if all goes well, will confirm where we are; where is the recognition of our human dignity

KimPérez 02-14-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Digital Transsexual Diary/Kim Pérez-. Weknow that there are completely homosexual people. They only have homosexual feelings, it is the only thing they remember. Others are very homosexual, they find their true expression in that, but sometimes they have had or have a heterosexual feeling for another person. Others are often homosexual, but often also hetero, those hitherto called bisexual, but as will be seen, we are all more or less bisexual. Others have once had a homosexual feeling, but are almost always hetero. Others only remember heterosexual feelings... Thus the cycle begins again.

This that we all see to be the truth, Kinsey knew since 1948, date of "Sexual behavior in men", completed in 1953, "Sexual behavior in women".

In summary: there are no “homosexuals” and “heterosexuals” like two closed battalions, separated by a moat of isolation and incomprehension. There are more or less homosexual or heterosexual people, from 0 to 10; It is the same to say from 0 to 10 heterosexual than from 10 to 0 homosexual. People are in a place within a scale, a single scale, which goes from one extreme to the other.

But as soon as we have said that there are no homosexuals, on the one hand, and heterosexuals, on the other, as two separate camps, but more or less homosexual and heterosexual people, we have said that sexual orientation is a non-binary reality, not split in two; the "more or less", in mathematics, is the characteristic of fuzzy sets, not the "yes or no", which is of closed sets. That is to say: Are we homosexual or heterosexual, yes or no? No; we are more or less homosexual or heterosexual.

This is reality; let's look at it; Let's say what we see, in ourselves.

The same thing happens with masculinity/femininity, even more visibly, more clearly. There are no “male people” (a moat) and “female people”, yes or no. There are more or less masculine people who are less or more feminine. There is only one scale, not two, to situate in masculinity/femininity, and we are all in a place in it, most of us are not in the extremes. By the way, masculinity/femininity does not always have to do with male/female. As we all see, in reality there are very feminine men and very masculine women (it doesn't necessarily have to do with homosexuality/heterosexuality either)

The more or less masculine/feminine is independent of gender and orientation. It has to do with social conduct, with manners, with feelings, with hobbies... Masculinity/femininity or femininity/masculinity (it's the same thing) is not a matter of yes or no, but of more or less. There are many very masculine men and many very feminine women, and there are also those who are somewhat less masculine, those who are somewhat less feminine, those who are (now, proudly) much less masculine or much less feminine, those who are not at all masculine or not feminine...

Again, it is a non-binary question, which translates into fuzzy sets (based on a plus or minus, not a yes or no), this time of gender.

This is also reality, we are all more or less masculine or feminine, we all know that it is so, reality is non-binary in terms of gender, and it forms diffuse sets based on that more or less, from that scale.

The same thing also happens in a matter of sex, which is biological, anatomical. There are not two sides physically separated as if one had nothing to do with the other.

Let us remember that, in our beginning, we have all had similar bodies: we have all had nipples and the same clitorideopenian organ. Then, in prenatal or adolescent development, the XX or XY chromosomes (or their variations) determined that the clitorispene developed less or more and the nipples more or less.

The same thing happened in some brain structures, more or less developed. All this is not a question of yes or no, but of more or less. We are all more or less male/female. In this physical dimension, most people are also more male or female, but there are people who have remained in a more or less intermediate development. In some, it is the genitals that appear less developed than in the majority (intersex) or in others, it is the brain that remains less differentiated, with which the feeling of identity or sexuality, properly sexual behavior, may be less differentiated or even crossed in relation to the rest of the body (transsexuality)

It is also about more or less, not yes or no. It is therefore a non-binary question, which forms fuzzy sets of sex.

All of this is natural, it corresponds to the non-binary matrix of nature and to the fuzzy sets in which all real people who participate in a scale only abstractly, tendentially dual, enter, but as such scale, leaves room for that we exist all the people, infinitely varied, that we live in reality.

KimPérez 02-07-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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I put my imagination into motion, to remember some of the feelings that have led me to be transsexual.

They are not logical, some are crazy, but these imaginations help to know what we are talking about.

These are my imaginations; as I always say, other people will have theirs; that they write them down, that they make the list, they will be surprised, even if they seem ridiculous at first glance, as has happened to me; full of meaning.

Not only I have assumed that all men secretly wished to be women. A friend of hers, in her childhood, came to confide this supposition to other children who looked at her in astonishment.

When I saw the boys with the boys, due to the social segregation of the sexes, I also thought that they were disgusted with each other, temporarily and because there was nothing better, just waiting for the opportunity to be with the girls ( experience has taught me later to what extent the affinity of similar is more desired for them habitually than the closeness of the different)

I once read the news that a man had suffered an accidental castration and my spontaneous reaction was: “What luck!” But much more shocking is my feeling of universal denial of the male general organ. I find it ugly and shameful in all men. I would like it not to exist, for no one to have it.

Like a true phobia, its existence haunts me. Before a gathering of men, I cannot forget that everyone is burdened with their presence, as if they were ugly, as if they were a shameful secret. In fact, the clothes hide it.

I was particularly obsessed before the operation, because it was a shame that fell on me; later I was able to remove it from my imagination and objectify it for a while, as typical of men, typical of others, but now that aversion is renewed.

In the movies, in the meetings, in the parades, in the masses, I see all the men marked by that ridiculous and ugly addition, which becomes unbearable for me.

I can't stand its functionality either, masculine sexuality, which seems tiring and pathetic to me, sweat, gymnastics, so much effort for so little.

I can only understand smooth bodies, perhaps getting closer, perhaps exchanging fluids in the beauty of the embrace, of desire and of love. It's like I'm a reincarnated alien and I'm having a hard time understanding terrestrial sexuality. But in reality, one only has to see on Earth the sexuality of fish, reptiles and birds, to understand that another sexuality, not penetrative, is possible.

Actually, my rejection was twofold: on the one hand, I also dislike men and I wish they didn't exist; their faces appear to me swollen and deformed, from infantile forms, scarcely altered in females, just as male seals appear to me deformed in front of females.

The androgenized behavior of males tends to be harsh, aggressive, strict, fearsome. I would prefer it not to exist, of course. Neither those voices, nor their smell of sweat. I was desperate, in my childhood, to be counted among them simply because my genitals, so fake, put me on that side.

She rejected masculinity and therefore rejected the male genitalia, one before the other.

My ideal, my imaginary project, I see now that it would have been a humanity without sexual dimorphism, with a homogeneous aspect, more similar to the current one of women, with smooth and graceful bodies. I am inventing another humanity from my sexual feelings, but it is legitimate to invent anything less than that, even if it is impossible, and this humanity has to succumb as it is!

The smooth bodies could be divided into males and females, but the union would not be made by penetration, but by an equal exchange of fluids, perhaps by kissing, in the mouth, or perhaps by the kiss of the bellies.

There would be no internal incubation, as in the case of mammals, but an egg would be fertilized, which would become very small, without effort, and would grow outside the body, as in some reptiles. Or once put on, it could be kept inside the body of the father or mother, who would guard it until it could be opened.

Sexual dimorphism is not necessary to cause sexual attraction; it does not exist in the general lines of the body among the horses, as beautiful, as slender and as strong the males as the females; what attracts them is the aroma, the song of the pheromones.

It does not exist either among dolphins, nor among dogs, nor among cats, although, being all mammals, there is a dimorphism of the external genitalia. But it's not necessary for reproduction in general, which takes a bewildering variety of forms.

As conscious beings, our reason allows us to distance thought from reality, and accept it or not.

My thinking has not allowed me to accept the sexual dimorphism of our species nor the sexuality that corresponds to it. I certainly have the right to claim that everything seems ugly and ridiculous to me, just as the mantis male, if he were rational, would cry out for the injustice of his fate.

Perhaps I come from another world and I have nostalgia for it. A friend of mine, in her childhood, seeing a torrent of rain in her street, said to herself in astonishment: "But what am I doing here again?" Another was scared when she saw herself in the mirror, unable to recognize herself.

Or simply, my way of being, not very androgenic, my creative imagination, my reason, yearns for a world of grace, delicacy, and general gentleness, without exceptions. It is true that I feel this very deeply. And this is what makes me transsexual; perhaps, in that imagined world, it would not have been. Because I question deep down not my sexuality, but that of others.

KimPérez 01-31-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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HaMaH means transition “from male to female to male”. Like those who succeed in their transsexual transition, they are identity heroes who understand their mistake and try to rectify it.

(And to err is human)

Identity is a precious commodity, but sometimes a fugitive one. On many occasions, in our stories, it is rather a non-identity, what we do not want to be, rather than an identity, what we are. But it is natural that we look for it ardently, no less than we want to know who we are.

In this search, where "I am" and "I am not", "I want" and "I do not want", "I am anxious" and "I am satisfied" are often as fluctuating as we know, success and error are sometimes separated by a thread.

If we consider that there has been an error, we can despair and cry and scream, because it deserves it, or join the courage of the transition (social change, the most difficult, surgical changes, etc.) the courage of the detransition, more still difficult (new social change, undoing surgical changes as far as possible, etc.)

There is a small proportion of people, perhaps 5%, who after transitioning from sex to gender, do not feel comfortable in their new situation. They are a small proportion compared to 95% of those who find it positive, a source of well-being, so their existence does not nullify the convenience of the transition. But they exist, they are real, they have great difficulties, and above all, those who can best understand them are transsexual people, because their doubts have been our doubts, only their final answer has been "no" while ours has been "yes". .

That's why they deserve a lot of attention in our forums, for us to hear about their experiences and offer our opinions and advice. They have probably passed our own fears and social humiliations, they have been in our same operating rooms, and we can measure what they will feel now and their courage to embark on a new path.

I'm going to put here, in order, the main sources of error. Then, also in order, the remedies.

An easy way to make a mistake (and to make a mistake again) is if they have embarked on the change too soon.

Adolescence, despite its impetuosity, is a time in which a person does not know himself sufficiently and can change a lot from one year to the next.

Doctors should not accept cross-hormonal use, let alone operate on adolescents. To safeguard their appearance, it is advised that gender variant adolescents (it is premature to call them transsexual) have puberty arrest treatment, which keeps their bodies in an ambiguous state, open to any change, at least until they reach at eighteen, the age at which they can legally decide; but even then, they should be advised to wait, to socially change their gender, if they want, but not to surgically transform their body and to wait patiently to test the doubts they may have deep down.

Another way to make a mistake is out of love. For love of a man or a woman, a transsexual person is capable of sacrificing her identity. "If I have to be a man (or woman) for you, I will be." The ardor of love can make sacrifice easy. Then he will realize that it was not easily in his power to make that gift.

Identity issues, however insecure, are tenacious. It is necessary to take them into account, even if you want to renounce them, knowing that they will always be there and that you can only know their limits by facing them face to face, not forgetting them.

Another possible error comes from not clearly distinguishing gender from genitality.

Just as there are transgender people for whom genitality is the greatest cause of dysphoria, to the point that they don't really look at gender, or cultural sex, there are others for whom the gendered social life they desire is the former, while genitality is indifferent or they wish to preserve it.

In male transsexuals, this feeling is the majority. In female transsexuals, operation or non-operation has nothing to do with more or less femininity. I can even say with real grounds that people who insist on their social life are often much more feminine than those who insist on the operation.

Some of these second people could even settle for definitively losing the functionality of the male genitalia, via intense hormonal therapy or via orchidectomy or ablation only of the gonads.

I read some time ago in a study that the ratio between those who need genital surgery and those who don't is approximately one to nine. But in our current transsexual and even medical culture, the need for the operation is overstated. Transsexuals and doctors tend to see it as almost the only way out of the transsexual process, to the point that not having surgery seems to be staying in a second division of transsexuality. I don't feel it in me; I am not very feminine and yet I have needed surgery (better surgery than impotence)

The definitive proof that the operation is not desired is when there is persistent concern about whether sensation will be preserved afterwards or not; to the few people who need it, it is for other reasons, and sensitivity does not matter to us at all; those who care about her, better not have surgery.

The error in the necessity of the operation is a major error. I can say that the genitals are part of the fundamental image of one's own body or not. If they are part of that image, the operation is felt as a loss or amputation, and the consequences, according to the formation of each one, can lead to despair, to the conviction of a castration, to a terrible anguish that must be learned, with great difficulty. , to bear If the genitals are not part of the fundamental image of the body, the operation is felt with indifference for the genitals and general well-being. And the complexity of transsexual feelings is such that all this is compatible with the intense desire or lack of desire for a social femininity.

It may be that some of the feelings that lead one to consider that a mistake has been made have to do with the operation, if it was not desired, even if the social change was desired very or very much.

In this case, the return to the masculine identity would not be such, but an effect of the shock that would make one want, out of sheer anguish, the return to the beginning, or the return to the home; as the shock assimilates and subsides, the desire for feminine social identity will return, so any prudence in this aspect will be little, and any renunciation of hasty fluctuations.

Another consideration that must be made, if one thinks of a swing, is that the binary understanding of sexuality does not adapt to our complexity.

If one thinks, as our society still thinks, that there are only men and women, masculine and feminine, we are not given the place we need.

But deep down, we ourselves, transsexual people, believe this simplification, and we insist on being -or women -or men, which makes us go from one extreme to another without finding ourselves in either.

It's just that our condition is non-binary by definition!

Wasn't our body male? Haven't we wanted it to be feminine? Well this is an intersex, non-binary condition!

If we insist on being pure men, or pure women, we will probably find sooner or later that we do not adapt, that we are uncomfortable.

However, if we accept our intersex, our non-binaryism, we will find our place, because it is our reality.

It may be that some people who consider themselves HaMaH are not really comfortable either as women, pure, clear, or as men, the same. In reality they are looking for the place where, inwardly, they have always been. They have to search for it. They have, socially, to create it, because it is not in society today. They can find it.

Probably, in this Comment I leave many variations to consider. If you see them, tell me, and we will continue talking about this extraordinary story.

KimPérez 01-24-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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While writing “The Princess of Constantinople” I was reminded of Eva Robin’s.

This memory makes me revise my own transsexuality.

Eva is a gorgeous transsexual, with Italian beauty; she is petite, very feminine, long blonde hair and has not had an operation.

A while ago I saw several nude photos of her. What I can say is that she makes one think of the most beautiful hermaphrodites of classical culture.

And in the improbable naturalness of his entire body, making it appear that there was a natural way of being human, apart from man and woman.

And also logic. A way in which all your history can be seen together in a harmonious way. Harmony: unity of the diverse.

Eva is a short, vulnerable transsexual, who will surely arouse in men the desire to protect her and an admiration like the one that can be felt before the rising sun.

In other times, tender and marvelous compliments would have sprung up spontaneously before her, while desire would pass over her genitals like an unrepresentative incident.

And here comes the transformation of what I know about my transsexuality: if I had been like Eve, I would have been so amazed to see what men felt before me, their kindness, their gentleness, their admiration, his astonished respect, that that would have been enough for me.

I mean, I wouldn't have needed surgery either.

Yes that my genitals were not functional; what I can't stand is not even imagining myself doing the masculine role; this must be the most definitely intersex part of me.

But if men stopped in front of me, staring at me in astonishment, if that attention surpassed even the anatomy of my inert genitalia, I wouldn't have needed surgery.

In my life, that happened only once, when I was in my twenties. An older, ugly, skinny man, who of course I didn't like at all, looked at me like that, while I was undressing, and I understood that he was capable of seeing the femininity or the grace of that long, thin, young and gray body, I don't know yes because of sadness But since then I have remembered and appreciated that look.

Then, I've been so plain and unattractive enough that I couldn't even imagine what it might be like to be wanted and therefore I haven't thought about the series of thoughts that might have aroused in me.

Living in the solitude of a spinster, my thoughts focused on the only concrete thing I could think of, my inadaptation to masculine sexuality, and in that feeling, the only thing I could remember was my rejection and an irritated, violent desire, to literally cut to the chase, to remove what he could not want. So I did it.

Until I remembered Eva, because I would have wanted to be like her and that has awakened in me that sequence of imaginations and fantasies. Which could have been enough for me if I had been able to experience them somehow and with due meaning.

(Because, on the other hand, men don't attract me much by themselves, and yet, that need to be valued, loved, admired, protected, cared for, pampered, always refers to a man; I'm not interested I rather dislike receiving that treatment from a woman.

I don't understand myself; Unless, somehow, what lies beneath all these feelings is nothing more than a pressing need, a burning thirst for a father figure)

I don't know; This is how I have been placed in life, with these feelings that have to remain unsatisfied and now, because of the years that I have, they will have to go beyond death.

I was introduced to Eva Robin's in Bologna, when I was in 2000 at the Transiti Colloquium. She was on the street, I was with a group, we greeted her, we talked briefly. He didn't have a chance to even pay attention to me. I was left with the longing of having spoken more extensively with her.

KimPérez 01-10-2011Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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The king of Constantinople went out to war against the Bulgars or the Hungarians or whatnot, young barbarians from the North, and of course he came back with a lot of prisoners.

By Kim Pérez for the Diario Digital Transexual-. The poor, who were distinguished by their ferocious faces and their blond mustaches and long hair full of lice, came to work as slaves in the large farmhouses of the dignitaries of the Palace, loaded with irons so that they would not escape.

And the nobles came to be hostages, or to exchange them for something in political deals. A lot of princesses and princes who made the trip in wagons so as not to tire them out too much, and because after all, just as they were now prisoners, in a year or two years they could once again receive the envoys of the King in his wooden palaces.

Thus they arrived at Constantinople, and one and the other were distributed in their lodgings; the poor, to the large warehouses of their farmhouses, where they would be worse than in the hot stables of their land, where they kept their horses, and the rich, to a part of the Royal Palace that only differed from the others in that it had bars and a only access corridor with a single iron door and four guards in front and four behind.

The princesses were taken, naturally, to a different part, and the first mission that the Maidens of the Palace had was to bathe them in the baths, because they also brought lice, and to put them in clean clothes.

Then, the Meta-Governor of the Hostage Wing, had to request a very urgent audience with the King, for a very reserved matter, and she appeared in a hurry.

After a few moments, she entered the Royal Chamber pushing a heavy silk curtain, and the King, with his gray beard, received her very surprised.

“What is it, MetaRuler?”

“Sir... Sir... I don't know if I can say it... But the most beautiful princess... when I bathe her... has a body like a man's... I don't know if it's a matter of the Bulgarians, or whatever!”

The King was startled.

“Let's go see it!” she decided, and stood up, rolling her feet as usual in her gold-embroidered tunic.

“We will go to her bedroom and the Maidens will undress her and dress her slowly so that I can observe her. So that he doesn't worry, tell him that I am the Protomedician”.

So it was done; He arrived at the bedroom, into which he entered like a horse with gray manes, sat on a seat made of scissors but made of the finest marquetry that some pages brought him, he ordered them to withdraw and the Maidens to enter, bringing the princess.

It looked like a ballet, if they had been invented already; in the Palace, all the movements seemed of ballet. The door of fine wood and ivory opened, and four Maidens entered, and among them, the Princess, whose beauty shone and dazzled the eyes and soul of the King as soon as he entered, a flower among them.

She came with her eyes lowered, embarrassed that the Protomedician was going to recognize her, but the King observed the pure blonde of her hair, very long and soft, resplendent like gold or like the sun, there was no other comparison possible, and the sweetness very white of the skin of her cheeks, fully fruity.

The Maidens gently removed her clothes, and in the slow movement, the King saw first the slender neck, then the small shoulders, always the same kind of soft white skin and then an ambiguous breast, a sweet fullness not very formed, two soft domes with little protrusion, and when the dresses fell completely over her feet, and her clean and soft belly emerged, the delicate navel, the relative expansion of her hips, he saw in her groin a male genital, visibly helpless, which seemed completely natural there.

That naturalness was what surprised him the most. It was as if expecting male or female bodies to be consistent with a certain shape was a prejudice. In reality, they could have other forms.

Or was it, on the contrary, something so incongruous and false, that it could be separated from the body, like a leaf falls, leaving it in the full splendor of its feminine beauty?

Distraught, he rose from his step-chair, not waiting to see how the Maidens dressed the Princess, and tripping over his legs in his golden robe, he fled the room.

In the following days, he kept some conferences with the MetaGoverness, finding time between the reports on the Royal Treasury and on the conquests and defeats of the Royal Armies.

The theme of the conferences could be summed up like this: “What do we do? We have no idea." In doubt, it was agreed for the moment to keep the Princess isolated, since the reality was already known to everyone in the Palace, as soon as the Maidens knew it.

On the other hand, neither the other Princesses nor the Princes of Bulgaria or wherever, seemed surprised, since in their savage customs, the existence of people like the Ambiguous Princess was taken for granted.

She, for her part, willingly accepted the tranquility of isolation, broken only by the small court of Maidens who tended her.

The beauty of the lattice window in his room, from where he could see the blue starry sky above the distant mass of Hagia Sophia!

And all the other Golden-domed Palaces that shone down, down to the sea, below this one, which was the King's!

The Ambiguous Princess waited with absolute calm for her fate to be resolved, even though for the moment she also saw it as gray and confused.

There aren't many ambiguous people like her, so you never quite know what to make of them. When she was brought up in the wooden Bulgarian Palace or wherever, the last Princess like her had lived long ago, and no one remembered what they had done then.

The Ambiguous Princess amused herself by embroidering, because she embroidered wonderfully, long cloths with colored silk threads.

He embroidered his dreams, or his fantasies, but no one understood them.

There were stars in them, and flowers, and long-legged horses, and fish, and octopuses, and ships with white sails, the kind I saw in the sea, in the so-called Bosphorus when I looked through the gazebo with a gate.

The Maidens were ecstatic with those embroideries, and with their permission, they used them for the trousseau of the room, as towels or as tablecloths, which was full of beauty.

Also, looking at the street, she saw, in the outer courtyards of the Palace, the young Guards, or the young Officials, Protos and all that, and she was surprised how different they were from her.

They spoke with big, loud and loud voices, laughed with harsh timbres, and sometimes, they expanded playing with a leather ball that they gave big pushes with their arms or legs or simulated fights among themselves, by shoving and screams.

Or again, the only thing he liked, a horse would come galloping, with a fine snorting head and round croups on trembling legs and the knight would jump down from him, with his tunic short so that he would not get in the way, and he ran to the Guardhouse to deliver the message he brought.

In the face of the violence of male life, she loved being protected and even kept in that safe space within a safe space, without having to be between them.

But the King, between his Councils and the multiple affairs, from time to time had to remember the Princess that he had in his Palace.

The topic came up when discussing treaties with northern barbarians, hostage policy, etc.

Princess Ambiguous kept coming to mind and he never knew what to do with her. He could not offer her in marriage to any barbarian Prince, nor any Strategist of her kingdom, because she could not give them children (even if they liked her strange beauty).

They had thought of giving it to a Notorious man who was homosexual, but upon hearing his description, he said he was not interested,

And so a few months passed. The Ambiguous Princess embroidering in her room and the King of Constantinople not knowing what to do with her.

And something no one knew was happening. The fame of her extraordinary beauty and her unique condition filling the spaces of all Constantinople.

And all the men dreaming of her, upset by what was said, without her knowing.

The goldsmith in his workshop, while adjusting the stones in the gold, saw hers in their splendors. The spice rack in his little shop. The tailor, who was finishing a beautiful over-robe.

The young soldier, so brutish in appearance, he couldn't stop thinking about her. The serious captain. The sailor who, recently arrived in Constantinople, found out about that prodigy.

The racing car drivers and ballplayers, who expressed their amazement with crude jokes and insults to each other.

The ladies, meanwhile, remained skeptical, “It won't be a big deal,” and the cooks in the market were stunned by the men's comments or made fun of them.

Only the four Maidens who attended the Princess knew that it was true, and even little, everything that was said.

But, in that general astonishment, no one came up with what a certain man did.

He wrote to the King, telling him that if she accepted him, he would marry her.

The King received his letter, after a Council in which, as usual, no one knew what to do.

In view of which, faced with such a proposal, he decided to call the man into his presence.

He was a man in his fifties, dark, tall, thin, and wiry.

He arrived walking naturally through the Palace, looking around with some curiosity, and without hastening his pace.

When he stood in front of the King, he bowed his head, which was not very formal, but the King was not for protocol.

He asked him directly what he lived on.

“I have an orchard on the outskirts of Constantinople, a house and a boat in the port.”

And what his life had been like.

“I was married, I loved my wife very much and I was a good husband, we had a son who is now thirty years old, and since then I have lived alone, although earning my living”.

The King asked him why he wanted to marry the Ambiguous Princess:

“Because I have heard that she is the same beauty, and at the same time I know that it will be very difficult for her to marry someone other than me.”

“But she is a Princess,” the King objected.

“And I am the King in my house, my garden and my boat. I will treat her like a princess with my love”.

The King set a trap for him to prove it.

“But you'll want her to live the way she's always lived. You will want a bigger house and that she can have her Maidens as she is used to”.

“My house is big, even if it is not a palace. And I am used to living alone and cooking my food and washing my clothes. I will protect the beauty of your hands.

“If you present her with your offer of marriage, she will have to accept it.”

“I don't expect anything else. I ask you to let me talk to her."

“At the same time I have to honor the King of Bulgaria” (or wherever he was from) “I cannot give his son or daughter to anyone, because it would offend him”.

“If I marry her, they will call me Prince Consort. With that title I will have enough”.

The King recapitulated for a few moments in silence.

“Everything you say seems reasonable to me. You can go say hello to the Princess.”

A Megachambelán accompanied the man along the corridors, with the task of reporting what happened. Naturally, the Guards did not salute their passersby nor did they hit the marbles with their weapons.

They arrived at the Princess's rooms, already warned by two pages, who had come running.

She felt some expectation, knowing that a suitor was coming to greet her.

When the door opened, and seeing all its beauty, like a dazzle, the man was upset, but he overcame it with will and with an energetic effort.

He spoke to her gravely, without having prepared the words.

“Lady, he said, when I see you I already love you and I will love you all my life.

“The same if I am always with you, or if you decide that I am going to remember you night after night.

“I have seen at this moment what many die without ever seeing.

“I only have to offer you my love. I do not ask you to love me.

“I am a simple and free man. I have enough to live. I don't have more than I need.

“I only intend to offer you a house that you can call your own and my company, as if I were an older relative in charge of your custody.

“I have a beautiful garden, I have a boat, and I live by myself”

Princess Ambiguous listened to him, surprised at how she felt before this man.

Normally, around other men, she felt a certain masculine tension, as if what little masculinity there was in her was revived in his presence.

Yet, before this thin, wiry man, she felt safe, as if those other feelings didn't even exist.

He thought that being in his house would be like being in his own house...

To live, whole, every hour of the day, his own life, without the regulations of the Palace...

Embroidering her wonderful embroideries... the scenes of the countryside and the sea... the memories of her childhood, because she had grown up in Bulgaria or wherever she went in front of the sea...

And express your gratitude by sharing with him the chores of the house...

Maybe I can talk to him. And be understood by him.

I could talk to him. She politely asked him to come back to see her.

KimPérez 12-23-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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(This text is a fantasy about a transsexual from Granada who looked like me but wasn't me)

YESI say hello to my friends and say goodbye. Francine is coming with me, it's already late at night, and the streets already shine with the water and without the cars. I have the feeling that the city is our home, the streets our corridors, the bars our rooms. This truth is deeper and stronger than that of private houses.

We turn a corner and arrive at the building where I have a room rented for this month. Francine remains seated on a bench, one leg bent, her foot on her seat, looking at the glimmer of the street and thinking I don't know what.

I say goodbye; she will go to her room.

As I climb the old wooden stairs that lead to my room, I savor the life we ​​lead, which is exactly what I always wanted and admired since I was a teenager.

A free life! A life without prior commitments! No set conventions, no enforced regulations!

My friends are the ones who share it because they love it as I love it and have loved it.

When I get to the third landing, I have to press the light button again, because it goes off at that point. Life of artists, writers, painters, homosexuals, transsexuals like me...

Life of marginals? But going to the margins, I have the impression that I have found the center, which makes one feel alive, which allows one to be honest in all naturalness...

Because you do not recognize any authority over you, outside of your logic and your intuitions. Those who live in their homes put money above, even if they don't realize it.

As we reach the landing of the room, I wonder if we are the cicadas as opposed to the ants. I, at least, have something of an ant, because I work every day and I know that earning a living is hard, but I try to put money at my level, not above me, a livelihood, not the purpose of my life.

“Work to live, not live to work”.

I get to my room and pull out the latchkey. The turn of the key can be understood as a signature that says “in this corner of the world, for now, I sleep”. But nothing else. My stay here is temporary, like everything else. It depends on some threads that hold it. As soon as one breaks, the season I was here will end.

I move through the room in the dark, which is illuminated only by the bright light that enters through the window. Below, in perspective, the thousands of points of yellow and white light in the Metropolitan Area of ​​Granada.

I like it. It is very beautiful. But I don't want this panorama to be mine. It may be that when he loses it, he has to go to another dark and gloomy room. But then, this crown of lights will shine in my memory, together with all the wonders that accompany it at this time.

I have the impression that my life is a great endless spectacle, all the scenes of which surprise and amaze me, without having intended it.

I'm part of the show too. When I was twenty-two years ago, I went to Paris, as soon as I arrived, I put on a large shawl from the Alpujarra, made of wool, with parallel bands of colors, red, blue, white, thirty or forty, almost a meter wide. , that I had to fold it to put it on my shoulders, and with which I got the Parisians to look at me instead of only having to look around me, leaving my pride safe.

I am sitting in front of the window, without turning on the light. I like to look at the wide cloud of light, and wonder about the thousands of lives that are under it. Transsexual people, like me, whom I don't know, but who are there, the young ones suffering, the older ones, more established. Homosexual people, with their adventures. Straight people, raising their children. I also understand them, of course. They obey all kinds of conventions, for the love of their children.

“I remember that sales manager of a large, super-conventional company who, when his five-year-old daughter died, could not understand life, and was left on the street, sleeping on four cartons. What was the greatest for him, the conventions or his daughter?

We live with this freedom that I love. But are we also aware of other people, or are we selfish and eternal teenagers?

I don't have children; but if I had them, I would do what I could to give them love, food and freedom. I'm not saying expensive toys, brand name clothes, or other excesses. A poor little house, with some trees in front, is enough for some children to grow up happily.

My current room, living alone, I can and want to share it with my friends. To sit next to someone or some, as I am now, enjoying this panorama!

But let anyone into the fleece-filled den where I raised my children? Let it disturb them?

Once I invited a completely abandoned old woman to stay at my house who was with us in a bar and whom I couldn't send away thinking she was going off into the cold and lonely night.

“Save for old age!” he told me the next morning, over breakfast, before I went to work.

“When you're old, no one will want you, and what you don't have, no one will give you!”

A week later, I came back one day to find that Annie herself, English Annie, had quietly left. I would have found something.

I try to keep that in mind.

What fascinates me, was called bohemia at the end of the 19th century.

The garrets! They weren't that different from my room, except that the stoves, if they had any, were wood-burning!

The scarves! The absinthe, or the cognac, to warm up!

Politics or anti-politics, acracy, free sex!

Can the freedom of sex be what is most desired, the background of all the hidden and desired beauties, the half-realized fantasies, the secret of our lives?

Not for me: what attracts me is the freedom of creation as opposed to routine conventions.

I, at least, intend to always write something new, like someone who walks through unknown places and discovers new planets.

Others claim it with painting, or with cinema.

Talented or not talented, with results or without them.

I am a young artist. A? In art there is neither one nor one, but there always has to be freedom.

But how many bohemians would succumb drunk on absinthe or in charity hospitals?

You have to be careful, you can't take ideas to their ultimate consequences, because they are just ideas, brain vapors, you have to put them to the test in material life, and draw consequences.

Yesterday I was in an anarchist bar. It was smoky and cordial. At a table, two people were playing chess. The heart widened. But suddenly I realized that the smoke was from joints, that everyone was rolling them.

I think it may harm the brain. I never want to lose lucidity. If it were possible not to sleep, I would not sleep. If only to keep an eye on the delicate balances that make up my life.

My life is free, in a natural way, even if I don't intend it.

How was I dressed this afternoon, with my friends, in the everyday bar, a neat and conventional bar?

Well, with my natural curly brown hair, forming a halo, which gets bigger every time.

She was wearing this gray woolen coat, and on top of it was a very long pink scarf. Dark blue pants.

At my basketball size, I would look unconventional. But I want to stress that I have not studied my image. This is what comes out of me, what I want to wear.

I think I look like Colette, in the photograph above, a French writer from the early 20th century, who lived when bohemia mixed with the avant-garde, at the same time as Picasso or Cocteau.

But I don't imitate her, I just agree with her.

My friends are naturally free too. In fact, we are friends because we are free, but we have not proposed that it was because of that, but rather we have gotten together naturally because we are compatible, and we feel comfortable together.

I'm not alone. I am with them. Each one in our own way, no one quite conventional, but all somewhat conventional, to the extent that it suits us.

We all work or study naturally. We are all going to try to save for when we are old, old or old. We all have unique lives at the same time. Several are homosexual or lesbian, several, several or several are transsexual, in the very diverse and nuanced ways that one can be transsexual, one is a feminist and straight... It is easier to be singular when you are a sexual dissident...

Jean Genet was a writer of genius, homosexual and delinquent, the last of the last avant-garde. Will we be like him, will we sink into the depths of crime, jail, systematic contravention, terrible pleasure, disappointment?

We won't get there. Times are no longer so hard, so conventional. We have opened a gap. It is possible to work and be out of closets. We work to earn a living day by day and to save for old age. And at the same time, people look at us, listen, try to understand or shudder with hate. We are singular.

KimPérez 12-13-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Perhaps the most significant thing to explain my transsexuality is that the genitals that were on my body seemed false to me, something that did not keep continuity with the rest of the body, added, found.

Because perhaps it indicated a lack of continuity in something that is hypothetical, but about what I read once and I find it very interesting: a “body image” that would correspond to the body structure in the brain.

I insist, as always, that I am talking about my transsexuality, and that others can be very different. I know in particular that there are people who are much more feminine than me and who do not need surgery. And yet they are very aware of their femininity, defined, explicit, which is not the case with me. I'm more of an intersex, or extrasexual, or androgynous male, or something like that.

However, it is possible that all or many transsexualities have a common origin, in the differentiated androgenization of the brain, in the prenatal age, which is then consciously, socially and culturally elaborated.

Here hypotheses accumulate that one day may be proven or falsified. But if it is true, as I imagine, that the androgenization of the brain, during pregnancy, can be differentiated from that of the rest of the body, this would explain why in my case the brain cannot recognize genitals, in a sense of the word recognize very computer-like.

The proof of this lack of cerebral masculinity may be that I had to learn from a book that men feel an impulse to penetrate. I've never felt it, and just imagining it tires me.

With all ease, on the other hand, I can let myself be done, passively, even without desire.

Therefore, my brain would not be masculine in the determined dimension of sexuality, which would lead it to not understand male genitalia, nor male sexuality, and even to repudiate them precisely as false ones.

By default, a non-masculinized, non-androgenized brain is a female brain, since femininity is the basic condition of all beings, on which androgenization is superimposed to a greater or lesser extent.

However, this basic femininity of my brain in its structures that govern sexuality and, I suppose, body image, if it exists, is compatible with androgenization having reached other structures, in particular orientation, which in me is basically a gynephile (without going as far as sexuality), or others like the somewhat impersonal male interest in vehicles, perhaps as an expression of a phallic sense of life.

I have hardly any interest in combativeness, so masculine. I see the children playing wars, or asking for warrior dolls, muscular and hard; or enjoying the movies called action or sublimating those fights in panting and sweaty sports like soccer, and I am not interested in anything, but disappointed. No longer interest, but counterinterest.

I get bored and repelled by action movies as soon as the violence starts. However, I have an epic sense of life, which represents the struggle on a higher, non-violent level, especially the ideological struggle, or national emulation, all of which I am passionate about because of their final meaning, not because of the means.

It's as if the prenatal androgenization of the brain is extremely nuanced, hitting certain areas and missing others, and all in a matter of more or less.

But it must be observed that this differential androgenization is a natural fact, that there is nothing pathological about it; all androgenizations of all beings are differentiated.

First of all, because of the flow character on the gestating creature that has androgenization; all flows are different, even minimally different, quantitatively and qualitatively.

This makes androgenization different in each of the men, women or intersex, or more provocatively said, that we are all intersex in a little or a lot.

This graduation of androgenization is fundamental to our civilization. It is not in vain that one can observe that hyperandrogenic men are as combative as they are ideologically simplistic, that mesoandrogenic men tend to be hard-working and good parents, and that hypoandrogenic men tend to be scientists and artists.

Is this biochemical view of sex disturbing? But can it be denied that this is the reality, and that biochemistry deserves the greatest attention?

On the other hand, can these natural variations in androgenization be called pathological?

Suppose that it is thought that some of these variations should be prevented and that pregnant creatures should be subjected to an endocrinological review and medication homogenization.

Wouldn't it be entire canvases of our civilization that would succumb or be threatened, especially scientific, artistic or mystical contemplation, which seems to be associated with certain levels of hypoandrogenia, to the extent that the dominance of androgenic muscle impulses decreases? ?

For this reason, it cannot be said that transsexuality is pathological, since it is a case of general human intersexity, but that the problems that accompany it are only misalignments with the very restricted social concepts of gender, which are usually due to highly binary simplification.

What I do know is that for me, as soon as I had surgery, feeling more asexual than feminine, a state of well-being and relaxation began.

It is also true that when I try to imagine myself as masculine again, this fantasy works with more or less effort as long as I refer it only to gender, but as soon as I refer it to the genitals it becomes obsessive and phobic.

Phobia that is not pathological, but a consequence of having seen them in myself with the feeling that they should not be there and that nevertheless, it was only a dream, very difficult, to remove them, clean them from my body, to the point of required a surgical operation and that getting it was very complicated.

Then, forced to be on that side, I would see the men and I would be obsessed with their genitals, which I disliked by definition; this feeling of deep disgust is renewed every time I wonder if I could have adapted as a man after all; I would prefer that they did not have them, that human reproduction was otherwise; that's why I sometimes consider myself extrasexual; that it was for a kiss, for the mouth, for example.

I only relax again when I think they are no longer in me. Then I can think about other things in a relaxed way and even accept that these organs are in other people without being overwhelmed or obsessed and even seem harmless to me.

In my experience, the inability to recognize my genitals as my own was what made me transsexual. In other people, cerebral hypoandrogenization of other parts of the brain may be the ultimate cause of their transsexuality.

I don't dare to make any detailed exposition about this possibility, because I don't know it yet. Following the method I am following in this series, I invite the people in this case to write their own narrative, for themselves or for others to read and further our overall mutual understanding.

KimPérez 08-12-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Some groups are proposing transsexual depathologization in negative terms, which, translated into positive ones, means nothing less than transsexual autonomy.

We begin to exercise transsexual autonomy when we know what we want and what we don't want, from within, from within, regardless of what they tell us from the outside.

We have begun to exercise it when we have decided that we wanted to change gender or sex or both, for reasons, for very deep, very complex feelings, that only everyone knows.

Our autonomy has begun to consist, precisely, in knowing what we want, exactly, definitely; or in knowing what is most important or what is secondary for each one; or what we can give up and what we do not want to give up.

Knowing each other, knowing our own history as only everyone can know it, knowing our circumstances, our loves, our obligations...

In this process of transsexual autonomy, some of us consider in the past or present the change of sex without changing the gender.

I was one of them, and therefore I can explain it in the first person.

In 1992, I had finally bought a house, with a twenty-year mortgage, for myself and my mother, whom I take care of, and who was then 74 years old.

My job was as a high school teacher in a teaching cooperative. He was already 51 years old. I was 1'87, my voice was deep, my feet were a size 45.

I wanted to change my sex since I was 13 years old, but I was convinced that my circumstances already prevented me from doing so.

When I found myself on the brink of madness or death (due to a brain stroke), given the stress in which I lived, I began to make my decisions.

And I took them. For months, I thought that I could only change my sex without changing my gender. It would have been enough for me.

My transsexuality was very centered, it had its center, its most oppressive dimension, in the rejection of the genitals and everything they represented for me.

I think I told myself a story back then: if I were sentenced to live forever on a deserted island, I would ask for an operation before I left.

Nobody was going to see me for the rest of my life; but it would only be for me.

Just for being able to say to myself: “That's it; I'm already clean; I can already be day after day on these beaches, among the seagulls, but being what I want”.

It can be understood that, with these feelings, in real life, once I had surgery, I would be happy just being, just knowing what my body was like, even if I had to continue wearing men's clothes and being treated like a man .

For me, first things first. Almost the only thing

As for getting out of my isolation, I only aspired to be able to talk to other transsexuals, to have their friendship and their company, to be welcomed among them, and I was able to make it happen.

In fact, I chose to wear ambiguous clothes, tracksuits, and I had surgery (those were other times)

It took me almost two years, after the operation, to put on a skirt for the first time. I didn't care. I was very happy. I already knew what my body was like.

And he lived among transsexuals.

It is true that my work allowed me to fully develop that ambiguous style, because it was mine, as a cooperative member. As a colleague told me, "there are rights that we don't like, but they are rights."

Of course, if I had worked for someone else, they would have put me out on the street in the first moment. And what would have happened to my mortgage; and my mother?

At the same time, my transsexual friends convinced me that my 1'87 was not an insurmountable barrier, and I made up my mind, and changed gender completely, and the world did not collapse.

But from what I've said, I know there are those who are exactly like me, and they can't change gender.

The reason is usually very simple: his work and his family.

They work for someone else and they know they would be fired ipso facto. Do they look for another job? In crisis?

Do you do oppositions? Is it easy to win?

Do they set up a shop? Is it a safe business?

And they may have family responsibilities. People who depend on them. Can they forget them?

In this case, the transsexual autonomy of these people can be expressed in this way: “I want to change my sex without changing my gender”.

But with our current legislation, that's almost impossible.

Faced with our autonomy, Spanish law provides for a heteronomy, a guardianship.

If autonomy is deciding from within, heteronomy is deciding from outside, a person who decides on the life of another, with their own criteria, or rather with criteria approved by people who are not transsexual.

In this heteronomy, protocols may not distinguish well between sex and gender.

And that decision-making bodies believe that there are no shades of gender, or shades of sex, or that total sex change has to equal total gender change.

Because they are not transgender, they cannot understand the infinite nuances that make the lives of transgender people different.

Faced with this variety of the real life of transsexual people, the so-called “real life test” that the decision-making bodies are applying represents a homogenization, moreover conventional, of what can be the so-called real life of people transsexuals, which makes them women or men from the movies of the fifties, unique models.

Faced with this imposed, heteronomic homogenization, transsexual people can say:

“This is my real life! The circumstances to which I must attend, my appearance, my work, the family that I love! I will accept advice, but not impositions!"

Transsexual autonomy has the historical value of relativizing gender and also sex. Sex is mutable, if necessary. Gender is not immutable. It is not something that society should impose either.

It is the cultural expression of sex. So gender is indeed free, and always has been, even though we gender variant people have been profusely insulted.

Transsexual autonomy precisely allows free expression of gender, even in the extreme case, in which the change of sex is not accompanied by a change of gender.

All forms of gender, masculine, feminine or ambiguous are free, they are an expression of the deepest human rights, constitutionally recognized.

It cannot be assumed that a certain sex must correspond to a certain gender (a certain sociocultural expression of sex)

Therefore, it cannot be assumed that a total or partial gender change must correspond to a total or partial gender change.

Nor that a total or partial change of gender should correspond to a total or partial change of sex.

No less than all these changes can be very nuanced (hormone without surgery, breast surgery without genital surgery, life as an outsider, all the subtleties that we transsexual people practice)

And because of that, heteronomy has no place in our lives. The advice, the information, yes, but finally we proclaimed our autonomy to organize them.

KimPérez 11-29-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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A woman in her fifties, cheerful and expansive, once told him: “I don't understand women!”

Clearly she meant that she didn't know what makes them attractive or unattractive to each man; that is to say, that she was straight.

She knew what would or would not make men attractive to each woman, what would make him attractive to her, so different after all.

He heard those words thoughtfully; he reminded him of what he often feels. He doesn't understand men either. He is surprised when many women declare someone handsome that he even dislikes.

Instead, he understands women. She knows the subtleties of attraction. It does not consist in this or that, but in the attraction itself.

The other day he was looking with pleasure at a TV presenter. She found his smiling, wide mouth especially pleasant, full of teeth, with flexible lips that rose or fell gracefully, piecemeal, unpredictably.

She liked his soft eyes, also happy and yet sleepy, as a song said.

She was not thin, reedy, tight, but already slightly maternal, although young, and yet he liked the sensation of their weights and their softness, loose under the wide dress, and also moving up and down within its slack.

Anyway, after doing this detailed analysis, he had no doubt that he understood women. She couldn't say the same, in such detail, of a man. That is to say, for him, who was considering the fact of his transsexuality at the same time, this was proof that his orientation worked like that of a hetero.

And so, it was kind of depressing.

Viciously, to top things off, she could also observe that she could pinpoint exactly, at least within her imagination, what set Marilyn Monroe apart from her imitators.

Simply put, perfection and grace aside; imperfection to the other.

The dress scene on top of the air blast can be mimicked, but not equaled or exceeded.

She'd like to see that hostess or Marilyn drop by her house, being her roommate.

He would like to take her hands in his, though he would quickly notice with displeasure that they were too small and inert.

She would like to have the right to kiss them, to perceive the scent of their bodies, to dream of skies and stars while kissing them, but nothing more.

It would annoy him, it would tire him, it would overwhelm him to have to go further.

That is as far as his heterogeneity would go.

And of course, to perceive as an intrusion the irruption of any man, rough and prickly, in that sweetness.

All this reveals to him that his heterogeneity is limited, insufficient, and of course, physical.

Can you imagine a life, not a sex life, some adventures, next to the presenter?

Yes; it would be nice to see her smile frequently.

See her daily, morning and evening. Remember moments, in the streets, in bars, lived with her.

Observe her, learn from her. For that he would have to get out of himself, from his autism, open his mind to another reality so different.

Although at the same time, she insists, they would not have a sexual life, it would annoy her if she was focused on her desire for motherhood, too primitive, crude, instinctive, and even more so if her body transformed into that of a mother. What a horror, lactating nipples!

So, that wouldn't work. At some point, she would have to tell him: "I can't take it anymore."

He marvels that it works for straight men.

In other words, he would have to return to his solitude again.

And there he would find a boy whom he would understand inside, because he would also be alone.

And then another adventure of brotherhood, understanding and company would begin.

And together they would throw flat stones into the flat sea for them to bounce off.

A calm morning, soft blue and bright.

And there would begin another adventure.

Love and understanding would make them hug each other as day fell and night fell.

And hugs would naturally bring sex.

And then they would get up, laughing, and go down to the street to have breakfast in a cafeteria, among the orange trees and the morning sun.

And in this adventure, physical attraction would not have the first place, but souls in need of company and understanding.

KimPérez 11-22-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Is there a Patriarchy? Yes, there is the Patriarchy!

Those who doubt it can see it today in its almost pure state in what is now Saudi Arabia.

There, as in ancient Greece, as in Rome, it comes from the Neolithic Mediterranean traditions, which in each part have followed their own evolution.

In Saudi Arabia, even a very simple aesthetic form is reached: the men wear white robes and the women cover themselves with black veils.

Patriarchy is a system of domination of husbands over their wives.

Dominance is always binary: dominator vs. dominated. A third party is not admitted, because he can alter the Sunday peace with his unpredictable alliances.

Therefore, Patriarchy creates the sex-gender binary.

Whose fundamental meaning is this: there are dominators and dominated.

Who identify as male and female. Both, stereotyped based on domination (“masculine men” and “feminine women”, nothing in between)

Basically through processes of techno-economic change and, as a consequence, cultural change (V. Gordon Childe), societies can experience far-reaching change processes.

The economic forces that sustain the binarism may be weakening, which shakes cultural certainties.

Feminism was born and gained strength in this way, as a movement for the emancipation of the dominated people, the first, the most numerous, half of the population, those defined as women.

In Spain, the Patriarchy existed until a few decades ago: married women needed their husband's signature to travel and from then on.

If things are different today, it is because of feminism, which has made half of the population equal citizens.

But the task is not finished.

In a binary structure, of "dominators vs. dominated", the rupture of domination began with binary traits, those of "dominated vs. dominators".

As domination has been undone, and the binary chimera associated with it, other semi-hidden realities have been appearing, relegated to the “heinous”, “what is not talked about”:

Homosexual men, oppressed as much or more than women, condemned to ridicule, jail or death (still today in some countries), to the extent that their homosexuality was known...

Sex-gender variant people, who had no place in a binary system, which conceived only two sexes, two genders, two orientations, although for all of us to fit into the "two" we had to push ourselves...

As the old culture is undone, it appears more and more clearly that we live in a Non-binary, which has always existed, although it was not recognized.

Now, to the extent that the binary ideological chimera is partly undone, but largely subsists by the force of cultural inertia, the emancipation of people dominated by the sex-gender binary must be a non-task. binary that puts in front of the eyes the reality of the Non-binary.

What do I mean? Very clear: feminism, the first anti-binarist emancipatory force, must become a non-binarist feminism; Put backwards, it is no longer possible, it is a contradiction in terms, a binary feminism.

The discovery of the Non-binary must be accompanied by the opening to the participation in feminist tasks of men and gender variant people, all those who understand what a new sexuality without domination is or should be.

The GLBT movement also has to change in the face of the evidence of the Non-binary.

There will also be inertia, resistance, stereotypes, but not opposition of fundamental interests, and the verification that the identities defined around 1960, half a century ago, in an extremely binary context, binary orientations, binary identities, must open up to the Non-binary, and its multiplicity of forms, some defined and others definitely indefinite.

Conceptually, Queer Theory has already done a lot for this, but in practice it has remained a form of elitism.

Now, when the Non-binary already extends, clearly visible, before our eyes, we understand that it is not about inventing anything, since everything has always been there, but about accepting the reality of what is seen.

What is there, what do we see?

Men more masculine than less, more straight than less, happy to be?

Well, there are, it would be missing more. They only get rid of the chimera of dominating other people, the domination chimera, the binary chimera.

Can they be admirable, confident, energetic? Yeah; they can be admired, precisely because they do not overwhelm.

Can there be sensitive, delicate, tender men, artists, dancers, poets, philosophers next to them?

Why not, if there are?

Women more feminine than less, more heterosexual than less, happy to be so?

Well, there are. They only come off the fallacy that they were born to be dominated.

Can they be tender, delicate, maternal? Those who feel like this, yes, as an act of freedom.

Can there be energetic, political, scientific, adventurous women next to them?

Why not, since there are?

What is it that we did not see and now we see?

That next to them and among them there are people who are more or less men, more or less women, more or less ambiguous...

The Non-binary, with the transparency of his air, allows us to see that there are some people who say: "I want to be on the side of men."

And others: "I want to be on the women's side."

And others: “I want to be between men and women”

(In all cases, prevailing the will, the conscious, over the anatomical realities, since human dignity is in consciousness)

It is the task of the emancipation movement, first feminist, then also GLTB, that in the face of binary domination everyone can do what is in their conscience regarding their identity!

And also, for the same reason, there are some people who say:

“I love men”

And others: “I love women”.

And others: “I love men and women”.

And others: “I love those who are neither men nor women”.

And others...

We didn't make anything up! All this is reality!

A reality not divided in two, but in many more parts! A non-binary reality!

That has always existed. Only now she begins to be respected.

Not as simple as the black and white that survives on part of our Earth. It is as varied and joyful as the rainbow.

KimPérez 11-15-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Since I am speaking here on (virtual) paper, it may not be clear that much of what I am telling happened on paper (letters) or in the imagination, and that it was far from reality material.

Well, if it's not already clear, it already is.

On the other hand, he has witnessed the material reality in the company of his friend Jota, with whom he once again lived his usual triangles.

He's gay, and he had his love affairs, of course. But for the person we are talking about it was enough to enjoy his trust.

And knowing that sometimes she was older than her lovers.

Intimate friendship is a big thing. You can even imagine going to India sometime, and living in a bungalow with a big porch (and mongooses to chase out the snakes).

Jack with a lover, she as a friend to talk and have tea with.

But in reality, strange barriers or feelings of distance that you don't understand suddenly form.

Perhaps because in this friendship sex is missing, which breaks everything and fixes everything in another way. He founds intimacy in another chapter of the novel. But they will never get to that chapter. Barrier? Aren't they mutually untouchable? Will there be more barrier?

Love each other. wish each other Touch. Embrace each other. Merge. Leaving the experience as two people in one. That's the sex sequence.

Anyway, the person I'm talking about has always felt very little of any turbulent, obsessive, trembling desire for another person. He doesn't know what sexual passion is, only approaching with difficulty, slowly, uncertainly, and then running away.

Until this summer, with the incendiary heat, he felt it imaginarily, but with such intensity that he wrote it down as a real episode of his life, something he can tell and has to tell.

For two months he lived obsessively, pleasantly, sensitively, turbulently, etc., feeling desire in his mind and body.

The object of her desire were necessarily very hard men.

You can put a face on them. They were like that actor with the slanted eyes, the puckered nose, the thick, tight lips, from a movie from when tough men were still in style.

His face was brownish from the sun and he was wearing a ragged campaign hat and a windbreaker or something, obviously sweaty and smelly.

A man to be respected, no doubt. A man of those who exist as prodigies of security and self-confidence.

And on top of that, these men tend to be respectful of women. Only cowards mistreat them.

She was surprised by the fantasies related to these men, their duration, their intensity.

She wished in them she had been a girl by his side, perhaps as dusty and filthy as some of them, but with a fundamental feeling of respect and admiration for him and fundamentally knowing that she was loved, protected and safe in his company.

Enjoying the sensation of his power in the vertigo of sexual union.

How we enjoy the image of the stars that surround us at night.

This taught her several riddles about herself.

KimPérez 08-11-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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What cannot be easily explained is how this feeling of displeasure towards men could have been compatible with the continuous search for love towards a man.

The first explanation you know. Following the binary schemes that were in her mind, after everything that happened to her, the burning desire to be a woman, or rather, to take refuge in the life of a woman, was accompanied by the desire to be like a woman in everything, and therefore to love men.

It was easier for her to consider love for a man than love for a woman in which she had to see herself as a man.

But this didn't work; she was not attracted to men; rather they repelled him, as I have said.

“Away, away from me!

“How do you seem to me? Well, ugly, unpleasant, smelly, unpleasant!

“Like the male seals!”

There were different shades to their sentiments, of course.

Ever since she had begun to form the Woman in the Mirror, she had wanted a man to see her.

Precisely a man. Any man.

She knew that, in order to exist, she had to receive the gaze of a man.

To feel their admiration, their desire, their protection.

Everything he lacked in his daily life at school.

In which he found contempt, indifference or rejection and the subtle attacks of cold and contemptuous looks, the mocking words from time to time, not counting on him at all...

Wouldn't that idealized man who looked at him idealized as a woman be the possible and invisible reverse of the boys he lived with?

Did she truly hate them or did she hate what they did to her?

In her constant search for the possibility of love for a man, there are several milestones or moments in which she thought she was getting closer to him.

The first was Walter, when he was five and Walter was six.

An older child, therefore. He had some wonderful books, with foldouts that stood up when you opened the page. He was a confident boy. “He knew more than me. He had more stuff than me. He could teach me, guide me through life. be my big brother."

It was also an idealized vision. She was only one afternoon, or an hour, in the company of Walter. He was the son of some Germans who lived upstairs. Their own parents, or their mother, had come up for a moment, visiting, and the children went into the study, with a lampshade of soft light, where Walter, sitting in his father's big chair, showed him his books.

Then they never saw each other again. The boy always felt the desire for an older brother. First form of love for men.

Fourteen years later, a world, a century, something similar was what she felt for Philippe. And much more stable, much more durable.

The most beautiful sentimental experience of her life. But purely mental, because it was a friendship by correspondence, sustained only by the paper of the letters, which he still keeps, as the greatest treasure of his life, where all his affection, his admiration, his tenderness, his longing are displayed. His most absolute frustration, but the strength of that youthful image predominates, and the hopes it aroused.

Perhaps for another lifetime.

He was nineteen years old, tall, thin, dark, melancholic, and Philippe was also nineteen, blond, at first also thin, perhaps less tall (they exchanged photos), but confident, cheerful, a traveler (his father was a diplomat and they had been in Buenos Aires and Congo Brazaville), knew how to drive and traveled naturally from Switzerland to his home near Chantilly, next to Paris...

Philippe was homosexual and he told him about his constant love affairs, but he told him about them, surely he didn't talk to his lovers, and he did it with tenderness and expressions so affectionate that they still move him, “mon petit chéri”, “ je t'embrasse”, “when will the blond meet the brun?” ...

He felt that with this “threesome relationship”, Philippe, his lovers and him, was enough for him. He did not feel desire, the erotic descriptions were incomprehensible to him, but he felt and shared the tenderness that Philippe gave him.

She didn't fully understand her transsexuality. She said that she didn't care if she liked to dress in anything. It seems to him that he understood that it was some kind of fetishism.

Of course, she always called him masculine in her letters and saw him as a friend. For his part, he was nineteen years old and he only knew that he liked being friends with Philippe and that he could put up with that perception, even if it embarrassed him.

Would it be possible for him to like her precisely as a woman? She didn't know not.

Because I kept hoping that mutual tenderness would do the trick.

Striking photos came through of Philippe, a former bodybuilder, blond, muscular and radiant in the sun on a beach in France. In a couple of years, from his shy appearance, he had changed into another very natural one. Very handsome, strong lips, dark and affectionate look. Now he knows it wasn't him, but those images gave shape to the joy and security he conveyed.

She knew what her home looked like, a cottage with a lawn garden and honeysuckle on one wall. She knew what the window of her room was like, and the landscape of greenery and other roofs that could be seen from it.

She longed to get home and share everything that seemed full of tenderness, above sensuality.

The moment finally came when he was able to travel to France to spend a few months there.

She wrote to Philippe; and he received the answer that Philippe was dead.

She met another Philippe, her cousin, a thirty-one-year-old man, also a homosexual. She did not understand then what had happened.

He was at home, which was how he imagined it, sitting next to his cousin in the study, in front of a bookstore, on a sofa. That night, she slept with him. He felt nothing, today he is surprised not to remember anything.

When he returned to Spain, he searched for years for another Philippe.

He thought he found it in a young poet, Pablo, but no; he didn't like the shape of his head.

Later on a friend whose friendship he maintained for several years. He was straight, and with him and his girlfriend, an excellent girl with whom he also became attached, he believed that the pattern of the threesome he had dreamed of with Philippe was more or less repeated. But she did not find the same tenderness in him.

Now, looking back on all that, she thinks that if it wasn't love, it was pretty much like it. It differed from love, of course, in that there was no oppressive, obsessive sexual desire, etc.

But if it could have been, it would have been, and I would have been happy to give it to Philippe, who would need it.

Shortly after, he went to live in Algiers for more than a year, and while he walked alone through its beautiful corniche streets, on the sea, or entered the squares shaded by plane trees, which allowed him to see, being able to feel Often his love of the sea, he fantasized that Philippe was with him and they shared that most interesting adventure.

By the way, another image of a moment he saw in Paris was fixed in his mind at that time as well.

He had spent a morning next to Café Flore, the now historic café where Sartre went, and decided to go inside.

It was almost empty, and filled, through the wide-open doors, with the morning sun streaming through them.

He sat down at a table, and saw a boy leaning against a brass railing, talking to someone.

Her face was oval and smooth; her hair formed a fringe that fell softly over her forehead; big eyes, small nose, soft wide lips.

She was wearing a turtleneck sweater, which hugged her slim torso, and her arms folded over the brass, revealing her surely long, slender hands.

All of him must have been tall and thin, too, although he was almost hidden by the masonry of the railing.

Tall and skinny, like him. The boy fascinated him because he could be the idealized image of himself.

As beautiful as a girl. He could be a pianist, or a dancer.

She got up and left, not daring to even think about talking to him.

Later on, she had many fantasy moments in which they met, one of them in a garden, their backs leaning languidly against a trunk, or a wall, their arms outstretched, or hugging, or kissing, or sharing their beauties.

The fascination of that boy was the similarity, the same. He gave her a beautiful image of himself. If they had been together, it would have been because they were surprised by their equality, and admired by their equal beauty.

Nor were they specifically sexual images; If that relationship had been real, he would have recoiled from the discovery that under the boy's androgynous beauty there were normal and therefore completely dissonant male genitalia.

I would have felt it disguised, broken, made into two parts by them, because after all, the boy was an image of himself.

She could love ambiguity in him, not masculinity. I wish it had been impotent, or hadn't developed, or...

By comparison, she now notes that her feelings towards Philippe were not ones of equality, but rather complementarity.

She didn't care that Philippe was virile, it was natural to him, but with the soft, gentle, kind virility of homosexuals.

What he rejected was the arrogant, imposing, dry, mocking virility of heterosexuals.

In a nutshell, she was attracted to gay men, not straight men, and this deep, moving, sometimes tearful feeling has lasted her entire life.

KimPérez 01-11-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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What was missing was puberty.

The arrival at an age, around the age of thirteen, in which the development and ugly appearance of the genitalia suddenly occurred.

They went from being just a fold, with fair skin, that was only good for peeing, that is, almost nothing, to being organs that seemed ugly, ridiculous and false, as they seemed to me among animals.

The first step towards unpleasantness had been taken a few years ago, when I had to suffer a phimosis, and I saw how what had been insignificant until then, became ugly, like aggressive.

But he had been able to think of other things. Now she couldn't.

The dislike for my genitals was added to another general dislike for men, which I don't know if it was of biological origin; I suppose that in the majority of hetero men these two simultaneous dislikes do not occur; and in homosexuals there is none.

In me there was a dislike for those two realities; furthermore, he believed that it was shared by men; that they were forced together, that they also disliked their company, that they put up with it only because it was mandatory that “boys with boys and girls with girls”; and that, in reality, even though it may seem incredible to those who do not think so, that everyone would have preferred to be girls. Deep down, deep down, I still don't understand that men (apparently) don't want to be women.

That is to say: absolute devaluation of masculinity and overvaluation of femininity.

On top of that, I also saw the effects of puberty in my classmates, who were six months to a year older than me, although I didn't know at the time that their reactions were due to that.

Suddenly, they had lost their balance. They had become restless and provocative. That happened the year they accepted me, when I was fourteen, when they no longer seemed weird, or shy, or whiny, or a sissy, when they considered me one of them, a part of their world, perhaps because I already We had been together for many years or perhaps because they were older and could understand that there were many kinds of people.

I was shocked not to understand that now their heads were full of erotic fantasies. Everyone unanimously had fallen in love with a girl they called La Guampita and who came to mass at the school church.

Except me, because Guampita didn't attract me, and because the idea of ​​being one more around her would have repelled me.

In addition, in class they continually said sexual vulgarities, and made puns so that something sexual and naive would come out of them, an occasion with which they laughed out loud and made a fuss. Now it was me who did not accept them.

Silently, at my desk, I thought that they were the same thing they said or did.

I vaguely wished men were the way we were meant to be: self-controlled, kind, thoughtful.

Entirely so; minds ordered like this, hierarchical like this.

As were the white-uniformed English midshipmen.

My colleagues, the inmates, also wore a uniform that they wore on Sundays, when they went out on the streets. It was a navy blue suit, with a jacket and long pants and a tie of the same color, over a white shirt.

In our case, the uniform was worn by Spanish boys who I now know were well educated to respect the fundamentals, that they were simple, spontaneous and foul-mouthed, but upright and affectionate.

But in those moments I knew less than I later learned and the forms overwhelmed me.

The sexual coarseness seemed so unpleasant to me, that when I saw them posing for the end-of-year photo with their neat uniforms and perfect stripes, it seemed to me that with them they hypocritically hid a deep reality that I knew from the day to day of the classes. And I imagined that I had to put on the uniform, because I was an insider like them (I was an outsider) and that those who saw us would think I was one of them and I didn't want them to count me among them.

(This feeling of “not wanting to be counted among them” I have later discovered is common to many transgender people)

Now I know more about everything that disturbed me then. I have said what I perceived then. Allow me to say what I now perceive of all this, in which a conception of education is involved.

The upper-class English were educated until then under a triad of kindness, consisting of "self control, good manners, fair play" (self-control, good manners, fair play)

Those principles formed exemplary people, and a general tone of human elevation, in which, whoever did not reach it, knew at least, just by looking around, what the model was.

But it is also true that those rules were very much based on the forms, and although the forms can make the background, the hidden part of that education was that hypocrisy appeared as the most serious defect of that society.

In Catholic Spain, education was based on the principle that God sees everything, and made such hypocrisy impossible.

That is why the Spanish were more honest with themselves (the frequent practice of confession in the confessional stimulated introspection) and more careless of manners. Now I know that my companions were good boys, cheerful and affectionate, and I would have been proud, in terms of their morals, to be numbered among them, if I had understood then that their swearing did not matter in the slightest. And he would have preferred to be educated in the spontaneity of his sense of right and wrong than in Protestant formality. If I had known.

But I go back to the beginning to remember that I am talking about two problems, two different ones, that presented themselves to me at the same time: the rejection of my genitals and the rejection of my partners.

Both of them came together terribly in a single feeling: the rejection of being a man. Repulsion. Phobia. Hate.

But the analysis –the “division”- that the years allow, shows that these are two different feelings.

The first was about the body itself; not being able to admit the genitals from birth, once their development allowed us to know what they represented.

The second was a social problem, hypersensitivity and lack of communication. If we had known how to be together in previous years, I would have understood sooner all that I was able to understand later, and what I have just said.

But in relation to the first thing I said, about the genitals, it is clear that it is something very strong, that deserves the most attention.

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It wasfrequent that she felt phobia towards many, not towards all men, but towards many.

To the point of later thinking that it was something instinctive, precisely masculine, of a man against a man.

But no, was it because of the way of being of some? many? most? from them. Roughness, arrogance, indifference to anyone who was not like them.

A way of being that he now understands as rude. Is it possible to better educate everyone? Yeah.

When he now reviews his sentimental failures with them, he realizes that this rudeness was precisely what overwhelmed him in those who repelled him.

(The word “repelled” is more accurate than “displeased”)

I knew that there were other men free of these defects, and perhaps the strongest ones, who were both sensitive and delicate of feelings, thanks to their good education.

He saw once, much later, a movie, “The 400 Blows”, which made him dream of a boy who was energetic and sweet, a little older than him, more experienced, able to guide him in life and also to protect him gently when necessary from the attacks of others.

Also able to share hobbies, to talk about the same books that fascinated him, to plan and make real the adventures that he could only dream of.

To go into the world to live them together.

A real big brother.

But where was that boy, apart from the movie screen? In his life he never appeared.

He often thinks now that if he had really known him, if he was in his memories, filling them with feelings and tranquility, if his older brother had been with him since he was seven, eight or nine years old, if when to think In her childhood and adolescence, if she thought of him with joy and love, her life would have been very different.

Maybe I would have learned to be a man, because it would have been like him. Everything would have been part of that happiness. Memories in the field, in the fenced and luminous fields under the afternoon sun...

Memories at sea, under the gale...

Many times she would have longed to melt into a hug with him... Between the water dusted by the wind over the two of them. Homosexuality? Perhaps, sometimes, in the ardor of youth in which everything overlaps... But no, it was not a sexual feeling, those unspeakable, tickling surprises that suddenly attack him, inexplicably, when he sees a woman's soft breasts. ...

Love is called the word of what I would feel for him, but love of friendship, love of souls. A word that does not exist in Spanish and that would need to be found...

Longing for company, need, joy... all that should be put into one word.

But he has discovered it now, as an adult, seeing the hole that was left in his life.

Okay; he felt it then too, reading a novel, because after all the only realities that counted in those years were novels.

In that one, the adventures of the English midshipmen who manned a schooner on a navigation through the South Seas were narrated.

“Midshipmen! What a beautiful word! They were English, from the 19th century, perfectly educated, idealistic, noble in their feelings and their actions.

“They were uniformed in immaculate white. Something that surpasses everything I can feel. Their clothes as white as their consciences, their sense of duty and their compliance.

“In front of the blue sea. Under the clear sun.

“Thinking that I could have been among them but I wasn't, I began to cry bitterly reading this novel. It was a form of human life, truly human, that existed but had been denied me.

“The elevation of life! Human dignity! The nobility of education, because those midshipmen were learning to be officers!

“The grayness of my real life was a bitter contrast to that imagination.”

He forgot to talk about some particularly uncouth aspects of the boys' school where the boy studied.

Perhaps this is the moment, together with the story of the novel about the midshipmen, so that what he rejected can be understood more forcefully.

In that children's school, the latrines and urinals were arranged with complete familiarity and naturalness between classes.

There were two. Some, in the courtyard, right next to where the game was played, in the open air, had a row of urinals and behind squat toilets.

In the patio latrines, the most astonishing thing was the lines of children piled up, at recess, to pee. But they weren't the worst.

The worst were the latrines inside, those that were in one of the corridors of the cloister, with the doors open to the corridor, emanating a deep and disgusting smell.

And the kitchens were nearby, barracks, stinking even more terribly and repulsively though it may not seem possible!

The familiarity with the masculine body that the latrines represented, almost in sight, became a sign that accompanied the rudeness of masculine life, which had to survive overcoming ugly scenes and bad smells. Perhaps for a man aware of that condition they were just a circle of purgatory that had to be ignored and surpassed.

For a cute little boy they were almost a hall from hell.

It was not easy for him to learn to be a man.

So far nothing extraordinary happened (but it would happen)

If we divide the males into three large sectors, according to the level of androgens that have configured their brain during pregnancy and thus condition their behavior, we can perceive the categories of hyperandrogenic, mesoandrogenic and hypoandrogenic.

Hypoandrogenic men are calm, meditative, unsportsmanlike, sensitive... Nothing out of the ordinary. If it were only for that, this youngster would fit naturally into this third.

Also, within the various typologies proposed by psychologists, it would fall within the sentimental type, or the leptosomatic (long bodies), or the cerebrotonic type.

I would have dreamed a lot, I would have done little. She would have finally chosen contemplative vocations: research; teaching; Literature; the painting.

He would have always felt his own feelings with all his attention on them. He would have been wistful and nostalgic and would have taken pleasure in it. He would have been prone to transform his respect for some males into nothing less than homosexuality. He would know that his long, thin body, his long hands, his long fingers made him an ambiguous person.

He would have affirmed her by growing his hair long, if he had kept it. A romantic. A Chopin.

But perhaps he would have always known that he was within that third third of ambiguous and civilized men and would not have tried to leave it.

If it finally came out, it's because there was some element that wasn't visible in those years and became visible later.

KimPérez 10-18-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Thekids. Someone you have to run from. Children in a gang “under the trees”, the earthy boulevard of Madrid. Dangerous. far away Observers. threatening. One moment, one exception. Walter was the son of some Germans who lived upstairs. He was older; he was at least six years old. One day he had to go up to his house. Walter was sitting at his father's desk, lit by an oil lamp shade, and in front of him was a book of stories that, when opened, raised brightly colored fold-outs. Something wonderful. And Walter was the owner of such prodigies. He went down to his house with a confused feeling that he later understood as the feeling that Walter was his older brother. An older brother knows more than oneself and can teach you the wonders that he masters. An older brother protects the younger from the hostility of the world. Protects. That child never found, in reality, an older brother, at the same time that he always wanted him, deeply. dreamed it Didn't he look, many years later, like that deep-eyed boy who looked out from a large chair in which he sat comfortably, next to a homely floor lamp? That boy appeared in the photos of a magazine because he had been an intersex whose masculine sex suddenly emerged doing gymnastics or some similar sudden movement. There was also a photo from when they thought she was a girl, smiling and naive. What attracted him now was his masculine beauty, square-jawed but in a soft context, in which the deep gaze expressed both a strange melancholy and more sensitivity than any other boy. The preparation of the First Communion. Deep, material, cosmic dislike for companions. One, handsome, blond, tall (for a seven-year-old), saw everything on the wrong side: his eyes were unpleasant. Nasty mouth. Another small and very dark, funny, nice, but for some reason, can be incorporated into the group of the previous one. Only on the last day a nice boy came. Because? Does not know. Disheveled bangs. Simple. Friendly? None of the children she disliked had done anything wrong to her. It was mere repulsion, biological, I don't know. A feeling of incompatibility. That same month of October he entered a children's school, the course having already started. I had some hopes. Another boy was admitted the same day as him and he was convinced that this would be the foundation of a friendship that would last a lifetime, but none of that. The other child made his life by his side from the first moment. Between class and class, alone, for a while when the teacher wasn't there, for general conversation. The lights turned on. Space between students. There were still many missing. It must have been eight in the morning. He perceived the extraordinary masculine roughness, in children of seven years. hard talks. Self-confidence. Hostility. Mutual disdain. Like grown men. Therefore, he was not like that. What was he up to? Friendship, sweetness, kind eyes, affinity, sharing readings and tastes and feelings. There was none of that. deep insulation. The class teacher was a small and somewhat uncouth man who fit perfectly with those students. Neglected, the cassock badly buttoned at the neck, boisterous. What can a seven-year-old do when he finds himself in a strange environment? Despair. Not wanting to go to class. Having to be dragged around for a few days, crying. The teacher of another class that was situated right next to hers was a tall spiritual man. He was still young, but already a priest. He realized the helplessness of that child. One morning, in the sun that was shining on the southern façade, he approached her and asked her carefully why she was like this. The boy explained what he could. That conversation lasted a quarter of an hour, but for his sad soul, it was like the sun shining around. He had the impression that someone had taken him under his wing. And besides, someone had finally taken an interest in him, had made him exist while showing him his own existence, had made real the sensitivity, delicacy and feelings he longed for. But the single-celled, devouring animal that had opened its jaws for a moment in the sunlight, as if to let him out, closed them again, trapping him inside.

KimPérez 11-10-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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An quiet child.

Shy. Clumsy to treat others.

More absorbed by his readings than by reality. Reading at all hours. At the table, during meals, when he is lucky enough to eat alone.

Living in adventure novels. Protected from reality.

Failed and scorned when playing with his uncles-cousins ​​(his same age). Because he is shy, reflective, not impulsive, not active, not happy, not confident, not pushy.

Rough taste in the mouth. He doesn't even think about her aunts-cousins; an inaccessible, unknown, non-existent place. Consolation: Isolde, in the sweet daily life of her garden: the metallic mesh of her chickens, her ducks and her rabbits. But as soon as he gets home, he plunges into reading.

There is no one sharing your life. Well, yes: in the farmhouse, a symbol of frustration, of the quiet, gray land with fixed fences, La Mode and he making mud farmhouses, acorn-fed mules. All cute, but tough and he's not tough. Nor does he want to go with Nono to throw stones in the fields, or ride the mares and have a run, or... nothing.

Only sometimes does he go up to the hills alone to look at the horizon... The distant hills, blue as jewels, between which, perhaps, one can see, from somewhere, the plain of the sea...

But at that time, I was about eleven or twelve years old. You can go further back.

His father began teaching him to read from the age of three, with a very bland and ugly primer.

But he remembers his first book, the figure of a round black boy, with bright colors, and a single stanza on each page, which he remembers perfectly:

“He is very sad/ poor Pepito/ because he is not white/ because he is black”.

And then, in a wooden tub with foam:

“She washes her body/ fondly/ with a sponge/ and with soap.”

The bottom line:

“But he is not white/poor Pepito/he is still/black, black”.

And a song from then, which his mother taught him:

“Mr. José

how fat you are!”

“How can I not be fat

if I live very well?

I smoke my cigar,

I drink my tea

and that's why they call me

Mr. Don José”.

But the main memories of her mother are others.

Bella. Like a movie actress. She has always seen it that simple.

On the floor. A sunny morning, in winter or spring. His mother making the bed in his bedroom. Singing:

“When I say goodbye to you at the window,

I think about tomorrow,

and it's better that way..."

Or at the grandparents' house, on the occasion of a party, him lying on a bed and his mother leaning over him:

“My moon face!”

Before I was shy, I was contemplative.

When he woke up, the morning light half entering through the blind, he contemplated a modest hanging on the wall, next to his bed: it was like a white tablecloth, embroidered in blue, with birds like Assyrians, some with three legs, and boxes.

He would start asking for someone to come and dress him. He called as if it were a ritual, one day and another:

“Pick me up!

Dress me up!

Open the window for me!”

He analyzed what he said, even though it seems impossible for a four or five year old to do so. she sounded like

“Pick me up.

You saw me.

Open the window for me.”

It was like a play on words. "Me" is what the goats say. So, saying “get me up” was like telling a goat to get up. It was good. But with "you saw Me", the game no longer served. And less with “open the window for me”.

I read comics and enjoyed the images on the landscape pages, before the back cover, where the list of suggestive titles came, in blue ink.

“The Warrior of the Mask”.

“Roberto Alcázar y Pedrín”.

The Warrior was handsome and elegant, his metal helmet, his black mask, his fine, solid features. His musculature, key to the other readers, outlined even under the tight chain mail, rather disgusted her. He was interested in the fields, the vegetation, the romantic air of the Guerrero.

Roberto Alcázar, modern, prosaic, policeman, confident, protector of Pedrín, who fought under his orders.

(He wasn't interested in the fights, even though they were the real theme of the comic. He was interested in the characters and their environment, perhaps because he identified with them)

Once, just once, he took a single comic from his sister to analyze it.

They were smaller than children's comics, and the main characters' long curly hair was highlighted.

It was falling out of his hands. She never wanted to read another again. The truth is that her sister wasn't very interested in them either, because she never saw another girl's comic at home either.

Now, thinking about that, he thinks that if he had been bored enough, he would have read it, as once, when he was older, he became absorbed in a cross-stitch sampler with little houses with red roofs, and little sheep and little trees , all in bright colors... Or the other time you had to read a romance novel because there was no other within your reach...

And he would have been amazed to see the indelible character of those impressions in his imagination.

Safer was the duality of the toys. His sister had a Gisela doll, two palms tall, absolutely uninteresting...

They gave him little cars (boring) or trucks (more interesting) or a canoe that, in theory, could navigate the bathroom with a mechanism: jet! with oil from the kitchen that smelled burnt... and that never worked.

But wonderful. More marvelous, the little propeller plane that he once saw, in a shop window, and that he never bought. It reminded him of the real planes his father flew in.

Or the models of a real neighborhood that they made in a basement, next to his house, that he saw one day through the little windows at ground level, which were open that day and never opened again.

KimPérez 04-10-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Thisis the third and final comment in this series. It may seem like you are too far removed from the daily concerns of transgender life.

But it may also be that in the silence of the night we ask ourselves some of the questions that this commentary tries to answer.

In this Universe, life is extraordinarily complex, but the result is bad, it is badly done, precisely because life is exposed to pain through a thousand cracks.

Innumerable pains, terrible at times, almost endless. The Mathematics that regulate it are insensitive to pain and that is why it makes no sense to pray to animals and humans. Faced with such pain, it is only possible:

Or try to escape from this world, through asceticism or suicide; but this is not valid for animals.

Or cure or alleviate pain to the extent that this is within our reach.

Or accept pain so that your conscience serves as a path of salvation; but this is not valid for animals either.

Or play masochistically with pain, while we can.

By a simple dialectical mechanism, from the No that screams with pain, the Yes that is desired arises:

From death arises the desire for Immortality.

From ignorance, the desire for Knowledge.

From contempt, Love.

Of injustice, the Just.

Of limitations, the Absolute.

From imperfection, the Perfect.

From evil, the Holy.

From impurity, Purity.

From Hell, Paradise.

This distance from what is to what we desire is a divine tension, because it is theurgic.

This is how men have created God and continue to create him, the greatest creation in our history.

And when we are creating it, we are not ignorant, nor mocking, nor selfish, nor impure...

It's just that when we're creating it we feel like we're touching something bigger than ourselves.

We just have to take it out, where we have put it, and put it inside, where it has always been and is.

God did not create me, I created him and am creating him.

I can't say it's an impossible task. We can't limit ourselves.

Get to know everything, to be able to everything, to love everything!

We cannot affirm that Power, Wisdom, the Absolute, Perfection, Purity, Holiness, are out of our reach.

If we don't exterminate ourselves, we have thousands or millions of years ahead of us.

What will the year 3200 be like? And 3,250,457, if we survive, of course?

We have been inventing God for thousands of years. We have to keep creating it. This is the meaning of history.

Disbelief in the God who created us leads to disbelief in the one we are creating.

This causes non-believers, deprived of horizons, to become hedonists and egoists. That is why we need to believe in the sense of our own work, which elevates us above ourselves.

We don't know what's inside us. We don't know if the limits and shells that we discover in ourselves can suddenly be broken.

We do not know if the Absolute, the Perfect, the Holy, the Pure, are within ourselves, and it is only necessary to break the veils that prevent us from seeing it.

We do not know if, outside of the time that puts a before, a now and an after, we are in an eternal now, and in it, what we create creates us.

Within this general panorama of pain and limitation, transgender people are an expression of sexual pain.

The shape of our body hurts and our social identity hurts.

We feel the truth of limitations. We are limited by suffering the law in a way that has been imposed on us.

We have to have a sex; we don't want it; we have to have the other: at worst, we don't want it either.

Or maybe it's all just a matter of learning to put consciousness where it is, ahead of the body.

That we relativize the body, in the awareness of a pure and resplendent consciousness.

That I am me and at the same time less than I, greater than I, am and can be.

But we have freed ourselves from believing that the body is more important than I am.

We begin to create God in ourselves.

KimPérez 09-27-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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In the previous comment I exposed the foundation of human life, including transsexuality, which is self-awareness.

In this one I am going to expose how the Natural Law protects the true orientation or the true sexual identity of each person.

The Universe has a mathematical structure (Galileo, Newton, Einstein, Planck)

Then matter is organized according to something thinkable (it is natural, because human thought is born from matter and reproduces its structures)

Mathematics is empty, it does not contain any statement outside of it. They are just a system of reasons and relationships. They are a syntax.

What structures the Universe is an immobile syntax and that seems to have no meaning (sense as direction) because it does not move.

Its form is that of algebra; something plus other something is equal to something else. In this formula, the mathematical thing is only the words "more" and "is the same", properly ordered.

But this structure, typical of the Universe, is above human will. Whether we like it or not, we have to abide by the Logic that is Mathematics.

It is a natural law independent in its origin from us but it is above us. Even to contradict Logic we would have to use Logic.

Does a natural law govern our lives? Is it so natural that in fact we all know it intuitively, without the need for anyone to explain it to us?

Yes; This natural law leads us to what is good or bad, because we can choose between doing what is logical or not doing it.

Humans have the experience of being free, because we have to make decisions. Our freedom gives meaning or direction to natural law because it turns it into good or bad.

First. Logical is good.

Second. The absurd is bad.

We're all sorry. But it is difficult to define the logical and the absurd.

Requires specification:

First. It is good what helps human life.

Second. What harms human life is bad.

We already have with this a multitude of facts that can be defined as good or bad.

Basic needs and possibilities:

Living freely, as humans, eating, sheltering, communicating, learning and developing, is good.

What prevents or hinders some of this is the bad.

Check:

To find out if this is a natural law, "engraved in the hearts of all men", think about whether fathers and mothers anywhere in the world think like this or not about their children.

At a higher level of abstraction, what is good is what overcomes the evil that hinders life: freeing oneself from oppression, healing damage...

Also all men, even the wicked, know that this is the reality.

A greater abstraction is necessary when the oppression is not evident; but the norm to be applied is natural law when it derives from the previous principles: here is the liberation of homosexuals and transsexuals.

We do not harm others (principle that excludes evil)

Are we harming ourselves by not procreating or operating?

No, if one takes into account that human life is a balance directed by conscience, to which the primacy corresponds. Our orientation or our identity are facts of conscience to which primacy corresponds to our balance.

The legitimacy of the laws that men establish voluntarily depends on the conformity with natural law, prior to our will. Therefore, our Gender Identity Law will be imperfect, but it is legitimate.

Is the Homosexual Marriage Law legitimate, according to natural law?

Applying the same criteria, it results:

It doesn't hurt anyone.

Benefits those who wish to contract it.

Then it is legitimate.

The search for one's own orientation or identity discovers that they are full of nuances. Only everyone can get to know them accurately, free from the stereotypes that arise from outside.

Natural law mandates respect for the truth, which is the correspondence between what is, what I think and what I do.

Otherwise, I would find myself in error, which hurts me and others.

Therefore, it is a natural right that I must seek my personal truth regarding my orientation or my identity, and that once found, it must be respected by other people.

KimPérez 09-21-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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I asked myself the other night if I had done something that I thought was really important, and I said yes.

I was referring to these ideas, which I have written again and which fit on one page,

Do they have anything to do with transgenderism? It seems not, but yes, at least with my transsexuality and maybe with some others.

I left, from the age of ten, with the discovery that I was me. That one has never left me: the feeling that everything happens by my judgment, by my acceptance or rejection, by my will.

This philosophy is different from everything that places the foundation of my life outside of me, be it society, be it an external God; and this is the foundation of my transsexuality.

I am me.

Translation:

I am thinking that I am here. (I am this body: I ​​look at my hand)

(It is not: I am the subject of thought, I am the object of thought; it is not only thought; it is reality)

Me: proper name that designates my own reality. Unequivocal. It is not a pronoun that works for everyone. It works for me. You should always replace it with Yo-Kim.

Uniqueness of Yo-Kim: I have existed since June 1940. I did not exist before. Only Yo-Kim is Yo-Kim. When I cease to exist, no one will be able to say this sentence. Unique reality, in the immensity of realities. Very valuable for being unique. The Not-Yo-Kim will continue to exist on his side, but this light will have gone out.

(Substitute my name for yours in this paragraph to know what I mean)

In my privacy it is enough to say I am me or I am here, since there is no more me than me.

It is an intuition, not a reasoning. Like intuition, either it is seen or it is not seen, the same as music, painting, etc. I think we all see it, but apparently, there are those who do not see it. Behold.

Interiority of the Self: As an intuition, it cannot be fully explained. I see that I am here. Saying I is something very interior, like a space inside.

What I see cannot be seen from outside of me. I am a vertex that does not exist in artificial intelligence, in machine reasoning.

This is my hand, the left, the right, this is my body, these are my genitals. I look in the mirror: this is my face. Surprise: all that I like or not.

KimPérez 09-13-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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A sector of feminists has fallen into the most primitive thing that some biological women tend to fall into: a new puritanism, a sanctimoniousness, a prudishness, a sexophobia of which numerous biological women and transsexuals: those who perform sex work.

The words I have used show what the general opinion may be, the judgment of our background culture on those positions: puritanical, pious, prudish. I put them here and I repeat them to situate myself in the realm of reality and hope that there are those who can see it and even those who regret so much exaggeration.

It is necessary to say, right away, that it is not all feminists, they are not, who are involved in this harmful kitsch.

In Spain, women like Cristina Garaizábal, who has been working for the interests of prostitutes in the Hetaira association, including transsexual prostitutes, are free of it.

I don't know, from one sector to another, which will be the majority; but I can say that the Puritans are the ones in power at the moment, under the label of "abolitionists." And their allies are disturbing: the neighborhood patrols.

I make a call to common sense. Can prostitution be abolished? Or put another way, can sex be abolished?

Sex in which happy couples and individuals more or less eager for sex are integrated, who have to pay for it because otherwise they wouldn't have it, it's that simple. Suppose, with the oldest and most repressive of mentalities, this second form of sex is decreed to be illegal. There will be fines, but will it be prevented? Or will it just go underground, adding tons of marginality to it?

The puritans of America have already achieved a historic success, faced with a desire a little less strong than sexual: that of alcohol.

They enacted Prohibition, an abolitionist alcohol law, and I suppose they thought they had succeeded. But what they achieved was the creation of gambling dens with peepholes and passwords, the development of a clandestine alcohol business, food for gangs and gangsters, who saw it arrive like manna.

After a few years, Prohibition was abolished.

Is there any doubt that if laws against prostitution are passed in Spain, its legal publicity is prevented, it is expelled to the most invisible polygons, prostitutes or users are fined, etc., these are feeding clandestine mafias, hardening those pimps, hindering the personal life of the prostitutes themselves, their normality, their good social integration, their friendships, their ability to regulate their own lives rationally?

The pretext given to make prostitution illegal is that it is an attack against the dignity and freedom of women.

Regarding the first thing, let each one define their dignity and their reasons, and you don't start defining other people's dignities, because it may be that your reasons are not the same as those of each prostitute.

Regarding the latter, they allege the existence of pimping and pimp mafias. But it is as if, to impose a dry law, alcoholism was alleged. Prostitution and pimping are two different realities, the same as alcohol and alcoholism. Pimping and alcoholism are two dangers related to prostitution and alcohol, but it is perfectly possible and common to be a prostitute and not fall into the hands of pimps, or drink a few beers and not fall into alcoholism.

Pimping, trafficking in women, should be illegal, penalized, punished. That is what attacks the freedom of women; and it is already punished by our law.

But something is missing; Something makes prostitution in our society continue to be a precarious and marginal, primitive reality.

Today it is free, but sex work continues to be carried out under conditions that are different from those of other jobs, which encourage the State to ignore or only pay attention to the repressors.

What is the solution? The definitive and courageous legalization of prostitution.

The formula for this legalization is very simple: SS + VAT.

To explain it simply: all social security rights, in a regime comparable to that of the self-employed, thanks to having paid the corresponding taxes.

And vigilance against pimping.

KimPérez 09-05-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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This week begins a new course that, in practice, is the real New Year, much more so than what we call it, in the middle of winter.

The two months of powerful heat have come to an end, which has kept many of us shrunken, some with the holidays that are linked to each other, and others without them. “Summer is for the rich”, as a transsexual friend who worked attached to a wall on scaffolding said, whitening it in the middle of the sun.

And the television programs return with their star presenters, while the friendly substitutes say goodbye to another.

At this moment, therefore, it is convenient to think about what transsexual politics has to be for the next academic year.

I'm going to share some thoughts on the matter. Exposing also means risking, so if someone thinks I'm wrong, I hope to discuss it amicably.

The first is to observe that awareness of the unity of the transsexual experience is spreading, which, at the same time, has many variants, which are basically ways of adapting to a complicated environment on the part of transsexual people.

We know that the same transsexual person can go through periods in which they consider themselves to be a closet transvestite, other times transgender (transvestite in Latin America), other times transgenital, and that they can go from one to another or from another to a .

Deep down, what he deals with all of them is adapting to social conditions, or adapting his feelings to their reality.

Therefore, it makes no sense for us to try to define ourselves rigidly, as if our self-definitions were final. How many of us have gone from transvestite to transgenital or vice versa?

It is true that each form of adaptation has its own issues, cosmetics, hormonal or non-hormonal, plastic surgery or not, genital reassignment or not, coming out of the closet or not, and that this, and not another, coming out of the closet , is the most difficult and complicated, the most socially serious.

(As well as coming out is the scariest; I have extensive personal experience of it)

Therefore, the first principle of the transsexual policy for the 2010-2011 academic year should be “we are all transsexuals”. In front of him, making distinctions only leads to internal confrontations. In some Latin American association they have agreed to make that distinction, defining themselves as TTT; It seems to me a mistake, which leads people who suffer from the same social problems to have to start by asking ourselves what T we are in. In which? In the unique, wide and diverse.

This approach, on the other hand, favors solidarity between transsexuals of all nations without asking questions, as for the same reason, making distinctions first leads to asking questions, before giving our full solidarity to those who, if they have problems, They will be above all social problems, of marginalization or repression.

And the marginalizers and repressors don't make distinctions either, teaching us that we can't make them.

Another political question, in this 2010-2011 academic year, in the midst of the economic and labor crisis, is what can be done to improve the working conditions of transsexual people.

First, you should look carefully at the problem. In some nations, including Spain, integration in the public sector is slowly improving, where the transsexual condition is respected and not taken into account when it comes to being a State official (or similar: for example, concerted, what I I have lived)

There are no substantive problems when it comes to being self-employed. If you can't find anything better, open a candy store. But the problems are still huge when it comes to working for someone else. In this field, you can try to establish a very showy statistic:

In the current crisis situation:

In the general active population: Employees, 80%; unemployed, 20%.

In the active transsexual population (especially female): Employees, 1%; stops, 99%.

(The male transsexual population may be better, in levels close to the general one)

But these are all just estimates.

In any case, there is little immediate remedy for the situation of female transsexual employment by others.

On the other hand, more general political actions can be considered, which contribute to solving the problem by involving it, surrounding it, not directly confronting it.

In this sense, the most effective actions are in the field of public education, and not only for children, but for the population in general.

We can work to ensure that, both in school textbooks and in television documentaries, reflections on employment discrimination appear, and not only on that of transsexual people, but for example of obese people, redheads and any other others that we may seem different, without our work performance being on trial,

We could also address large companies, such as the owners of department stores.

These societies have the volume and means to develop conscious hiring protocols, including for the exemplary value they can have for other lesser employers and for the self-esteem that can be created in their own staff.

The boards of directors of these companies would therefore be the ones that could make the respective decisions, and the efforts to reach them would be left to the creativity of transsexual activism.

I have indicated in this Commentary two of the lines of transsexual politics that could be undertaken in this new course. Suggestions about them will be more than welcome.

KimPérez 08-30-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Qfacing life as a woman is the hardest thing for a transgender woman. Much more difficult than surgery.

For this reason, the “real life experience” or EVR, as it is called in the Gender Identity “Disorders” Units is the most difficult of the tests that must be passed, not the easiest, not the most elementary.

The most difficult. Much more than surgery, because this, after all, is in practice a private procedure that takes place between the user (I'm going to talk about trans) and a small team, specialized and familiar with the issue, who will take care of you and help.

Real life experience is the great social leap.

Jumping from a diving board into a pool, hoping it's filled with water. Going from being considered a man, by everyone, to expecting to be considered a woman, and to be considered by all.

The difficulty of that transit cannot be minimized. You have to be trans and have gone through it to know it. Ladies and gentlemen psychologists of the UT "T" IG, you cannot know it, just because you are not trans, because you have not experienced it personally.

Psychologists cannot be judges of the anguishing efforts of trans women to give it, without having gone out with us, nor deciding that it is a “sine qua non” test to move on.

Much less to force it to happen at the beginning of everything, when many times it should be at the end, when it may be that the trans woman has not shaved her face, nor has she eliminated habits of masculine gestures or manners, from when the objective was the opposite, that I should not notice what I am.

Many trans people are shy, and we have to follow a slow internal process of mental representation of what we are going to do, get ready, make up our minds, jump into the pool, at one, at two, at half past two, quarter to three...

And we also live in an age where unisex clothing exists!

Many biological women dress indistinguishably from men: pants, sweaters, T-shirts, shaved hair... Why should we dress like the most conservative women?

Psychologists have studied psychology, but not image counseling. They are not trained - is anyone?; but of course, they do not- to rule on the aesthetics of the dress; They cannot condition our lives, make their supposedly sovereign decisions about our lives, based on whether or not our style seems feminine enough to them.

A friend had chosen, and it suits her very well, the “pin up” style, provocative, seductive. Almost girlish pigtails, heavily painted lips, short shorts that reveal her splendid thighs...

Well, the paternalistic style induced by the current protocols led a doctor from a U “T” IG to allow herself to scold him about his way of dressing.

Which patient would you do the same for?

But my friend, quick-tongued, replied that “I thought you were a doctor, not an image consultant”.

Which would be funny, if our fate in something so fundamental weren't jeopardized by those professional overreaches.

There are some shemales who are lucky enough to look like what they are. A friend of mine, very young, is a catwalk model and she parades, gorgeous, among a line of gorgeous girls, literally just like them; the same type of face, makeup, silhouette, way of walking, height...

The rest of us have to manage as we can and be happy if, sometimes, we half pass.

Sometimes, some people (a gypsy in the Alhambra, selling rosemary, a girl in the English Court) have addressed me as if I were a foreigner, because of how big I am (1'87, height of a female basketball player )

Those are my trophies, my war memories. The voice usually ends up annoying him. But anyway, I'm used to it.

Can it be the first thing, an unavoidable requirement, to make the social leap?

Can you measure what it means to risk your own family's livelihood?

Or the workplace?

Can all this be minimized, with a pretext such as "whoever wants something, something costs them", but conditioning the so-called "diagnosis" to following the psychologist's instructions?

Or ignore that, "made the law, made the cheat", and that the desperate trans user herself can dress conventionally as a woman to go to the U "T" IG, even at a friend's house, and undress as soon as the session ends?

Where does an undue psychological authoritarianism lead to, the authorization protocols currently in force!

Can a person be forced, without studying “their” terrain and making “their” decisions, to risk, for not having been able to practice sufficiently with their image, to go from being a respectable person to being a pimpampúm of laughter and comments for wearing inappropriate clothes?

I always end up talking about myself, but I had my own real life experience in my own way; I had to study for myself, literally, how far I could go and how far I couldn't. And I spent a period of pimpampum. I am amazed, and I don't laugh, because it hurts, when I see some photos.

I had to save my job as a 50-year-old teacher, the respect of my students.

For maybe a year I was wearing a tracksuit, the most unisex thing I could think of, completing it with some makeup, a necklace, something. Believing that it was going well: it was not going well.

I ask: Would that have been considered sufficient by a U “T” IG, six years before, by my action, the first U “T” IG was founded?

Because of my height, because of my voice, it seemed impossible to take another step. It cost me a world! I suffered comments from people in my path, out loud, some with mockery, others with compassion.

I was only holding out for the desire to change! But I was able, little by little, very little by little, to find a discreet style, my own, that suited me well and to which people seemed not to react.

It was and is very subtle; colors; lines; styles; all experienced very little by little, looking at those who looked at me, devising, changing. An authentic style, very feminine by the way, very patient.

It was a year after the operation when I decided to wear a skirt, in October 1996, when I went back to school.

Could that be replaced by an "already", "at the order" of the psychologist, to jump into the water suddenly, because it is the condition to continue, to please your personal requirements, your aesthetic tastes, and even risking that they seem like a failure in the "real life test" all the damage and anguish that one has to endure, now, to please the psychologist?

And, as background, in all the concerns of my transition, there was a fact in my favor that has nothing to do with my condition as a transsexual woman: that my job was mine, a very important fact to justify my security.

What if it hadn't been? With a mortgage and my elderly mother looking after me, I just couldn't have.

My transsexuality would have been exactly the same, but if I had worked, for example, in a private school, I wouldn't have been able to wear a skirt or go beyond tracksuits.

And now, same thing. You cannot underestimate the fear of unemployment, nor decree that it is a sign that you are not "a true transsexual."

The hours are numbered for this unfortunate state of affairs, since the Government decided to join the movement to depathologize transsexuality, of transsexual autonomy, you can call it.

But wars don't end with the intention of signing peace, until the last shot is fired.

Meanwhile, there will continue to be people threatened by this shooting in Spain and in other countries.

That is why I write these lines, for the psychologists of the U “T” IG who have a conscience. Shoot high, into the air, not the body, please! The war is already decided!

Let us trans live peacefully and be our counselors, not our feared judges.

KimPérez 08-23-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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This study of human sexuality is biologistic. It is true that there are other dimensions of it that are sociologists or culturalists or psychologists, but there is an order in all of this in which the first is biology and the second is social or cultural or mental, I can no longer say in what order. Above what we would like it to be, but it is not, biology is biochemistry and chemistry we already know the power it has over our lives: a simple pill kills us or revives us, makes us delirious or stabilizes us.

Humans, like mammals, began our existence manifesting a very uniform anatomy, in which structures common to all appear, such as a clitoral organ and some mammary glands, only differentiated by the existence of XX, XY or other chromosome groups.

The presence of one or several Y chromosomes determines a flow of androgens that masculinizes the being in formation, developing the clitoral organ until turning it into a penis, leaving the mammary glands in their germinal state and configuring the brain in a differentiated way that will generate behavior and sexuality equally differentiated.

This flow does not have exactly preset values, but tends to mean values ​​that can be individually lower or higher, a fact that can be called XY hypo- or hyperandrogenia.

XX people also experience flows of androgens from the adrenal glands which, on a different scale from that of XY people, can also be lower or higher, in XX hypo- or hyperandrogenia which, in its highest values high, you can reach the low levels of XY people.

Therefore, the results of the flow of androgens in pregnancy generate what in mathematical terms is called a fuzzy set characterized because its elements (each one of us) are identified by a "more or less" of the property that defines it. form (in this case, androgenization) and not as a “yes or no”, with which other sets are formed that are closed, not diffuse.

It is not the only fuzzy set in which human beings are grouped; another may be that of height; or that of physical force; or that of intelligence; or that of beauty; or that of generosity; all of them characterized by that "more or less" of the diffuse, which statistically gives rise to means, medians and modes. I will also specify that "more or less" is not "better or worse", but more or less of a certain quality, which can be "less or more" of another.

The fuzzy set of androgenization generates two modes that are the people with the lowest levels and the people with the highest levels of androgens, called in common language “women” and “men”, who can interact in sexual reproduction .

So are there women and men? It is obvious. Can there be women and men who are from within, regardless of our appearance? We know yes. Can there be people who do not identify with either men or women? Also, because these same people say it and they will know why. I will explain all this.

Remember that, within the range of numerical values ​​that constitutes this binary, there are relative hypo- and hyperandrogensies in both cases, so that women and men do not have homogeneous androgen values, but are characterized by "more or less diffuse.

As androgenization affects the configuration of the clitoral organ, the distinction of the gonads, the development of the breasts and the shape of the brain, the differences in the flow of androgens can generate different degrees of sexual differentiation, all of them derived from the “ more or less” androgenic.

They all correspond to a diffuse intersexuality, a “more or less” that separates them from the majority binary and also diffuse. This intersex can manifest itself in particular in phenotypic intersex or perceptible to the naked eye (for which this name has been reserved until now) and in others that require more in-depth anatomical studies. Many times intersex can be defined as segmented development of certain organs, some masculinized and others not masculinized.

This sectorial differentiation can also occur in the brain, whose masculinization or non-masculinization can be independent of that of the rest of the body, since this occurs in a flow that takes place around the fourth week of life, while that of the brain it is produced by means of a special flow towards the octave, flows that all occur within the more or less diffuse.

The non-masculinization or masculinization of the brain, or its intermediate features, are of the utmost importance since the concept of ourselves or identity and our sexual behavior depend on it, most particularly sexuality or behavior related to sexual union same.

It can be seen that transsexualities, in their different manifestations (transgenitality, transgenderism, transvestism) are facts of identity or self-understanding derived from a sectoral differentiation of the brain, the same as some homosexualities, the feminizing XY or the masculinizing XX.

The importance of sexed cerebral events is that they are the most specifically human since they constitute our consciousness. Just as I see myself existing as a person but I am not directly aware of the functioning of my separate organs, it can be said that I have a consciousness of my differentiated cerebral sex that is stronger, more intense and intimate than that of the functioning of the genital organs, that can come to be understood as foreign. Thus I can legitimately say that I am a woman or I am a man or I am ambiguous regardless of what the rest –but only the rest- of my body affirms.

Just as it cannot be appreciated that it is “good or bad” to be a man or a woman, neither are these differences “healthy or sick”, insofar as the person who experiences them can live stably and even reproduce.

It can be seen that the “more or less” differences in sexuation all correspond to natural variability, present even within the majority binary, and that can extend to outside the binary. Many times, it can be observed that these differences are clearly useful for the species: while XY hyperandrogeny is useful for the purposes of physical defense -aggressiveness, strength-, intermediate values ​​or XY hypoandrogeny are more useful for the development of abstraction . While XX hypoandrogenia favors the care of children -maternity-, XX hyperandrogenia also develops assertiveness and abstraction.

KimPérez 08-16-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Dlet me put a bunch of defenses first: this only interests a few trans women, much more in theory than in practice; It is a very rare and very infrequent event; and we could forget about it, without any repercussions.

But it exists.

I also know that it is a fact that it does not even have to do only with transsexual women.

It may be typical of biomen who do not manifest any identity issues.

It has nothing to do with the operation-no operation dilemma.

It has to do, instead, with the fact that human beings have, at the beginning of our development, an ambivalent reality, present in all of them in the existence of mammary glands and nipples and in that of a single clitoral organ- penis.

As a consequence of this ambivalent reality, in each of the people there is usually a greater development of one of the sexes at the same time as vestiges of the other, which may be more or less developed.

This may be the case for the mammary glands in XY people.

In general, in these, their development is inhibited by the hormonal game that these chromosomes send; but sometimes, the inhibition is less, and allows some development, as happens with some frequency in the so-called gynecomastia, which simply means slightly developed breasts in a male and can even give rise to a secretion of some milk.

So far, this is all within the mainstream. There are numerous cases of gynecomastia, there are numerous reasons why it occurs.

Transsexual women take advantage of this initial ambivalence to develop the breasts by means of hormones that conform to our identity, just as in transsexual men there is a certain development of the clitoral-penile organ.

What is much less common is that trans women reach the point of wanting to achieve lactation capacity.

What for? It doesn't even occur to us. For whom? Many times we are sterile. No one is going to trust us with a little child to breastfeed. Other times, it is us who does not even cross our minds, for simple realism. Anyway; Transsexual women have enough trouble dealing with reality as we do with dreams.

However, it is true that sometimes we do get married. And sometimes we adopt. But the principle of realism prevails: I would like it very much, but that's what baby bottles are for.

And holy easter!

But there is the tenacious human will, and even more so the tenacious transsexual will.

It is true that few dare, but some do.

Put, for example, the terms lactation and transsexual in a search engine, and you will find some, not many, but some who are trying and have even succeeded.

Circumstances, always different, are what allow it or not, as we transsexual people experience so many times, hurt or surprised.

One of them, which seems miraculous, but sometimes, and only sometimes, can be real, is the story of a couple of a transsexual woman and a biological woman, who decided to breastfeed their children together, finding in it a profound experience of unity between them and with them.

The technique to achieve it is apparently simple, but it requires that tenacity that I mentioned before.

It is necessary that the breasts are not greatly altered by implants, which today cannot be solved.

If this is the case, two simultaneous routes are used: the first, a very simple one, already proven in biological women, which consists of persevering stimulation with an artificial breast pump, many times a day, for months.

The second, at the same time as the previous one, a drug treatment, the foundation of which I have no idea.

It is clear that for the vast majority of us this will never be a reality.

But for some it can be and it's good to know.

KimPérez 07-19-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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A short time ago, I found out that transsexuals are being treated in Iran, hundreds of sex change operations have been done, the country where they are done the most, like Thailand, and the people who undergo them receive a legal identity in accordance with their new sex.

This is due to nothing less than a fatwa or ruling from Imam Khomeini, may he rest in peace, who found that transsexuality is not mentioned in the Qur'an and therefore decided to have an understanding and benevolent attitude.

However, homosexuality is mentioned without any understanding in the Koran, and as a result, hundreds of homosexuals have been killed in the Islamic Republic since its establishment, a true genocide.

According to the group OutRage!, which follows Iranian human rights activists, more than 4,000 gays and lesbians have been executed since the establishment of the Islamic Republic in 1979. The number may not be exact, but it is the only one that I have found so far.

In 2006-2007, Tanaz Eshaghian, a woman, directed a documentary, “Transsexual in Iran”, which allows us to see with our eyes and hear with our ears how sex change is performed in that nation.

If these words are put into a search engine, the first quote that appears presents it, in Spanish, as it was broadcast by Televisión Española.

We have several protagonists.

A young male transsexual, with virile, determined and free gestures, absurdly forced to wear a chador that disguises his external appearance against his will and who goes to talk to the Doctor knowing that he is the one who can put him out of that misery.

We only know about his decision, his ease; that she loves women. He is the first to appear, but the least talked about.

Anahita is a very young transsexual, twenty years old, a bit fat, with already developed breasts; she lives with her mother and her younger brother, a teenager, who says she still hasn't gotten used to it; she has had to leave the University, where she was studying Engineering, because of her femininity; he wears a very close beard with obvious good humor that he must cover with makeup (prohibited in the Islamic Republic although it is seen that there are plenty of wide sleeves)

Anahita has always helped her mother around the house; and she has a boyfriend, who I think is very handsome, who comes into the house and sits next to her for the documentary and bravely shows his face, with whom she hasn't had a relationship I guess to avoid legal problems.

Anahita because of her carefree and graceful nature, even because of her corpulence and coarseness, her bright eyes and her charming smile, half mischievous, attentive to her boyfriend, reminds me of some Andalusian transsexuals with whom I share a good friendship.

Anahita goes to the official who must attend her, explains her willingness to undergo surgery, meekly and very happily accepts all the limitations, as she says, that she will have from now on to live as a woman (such as not having her arms uncovered , as she loved) and receives the certificate that attests that she is going to have an operation and that she is allowed to live as a woman.

He has surgery and you can see how he continues to live with his mother, helping her with the housework. She says that he thought that, as a man, one day he would leave her, but now he sees that he is going to continue with her. And that he sees that now they can talk about her as mother and daughter. Oh, and Anahita is going to work as an engineer...

But the boyfriend is now more distant. Anahita is more affectionate with him than ever, but he says that she doesn't want to get married right now.

A female story, troubled, but normal, thanks to her mother's attitude.

Vida had surgery ten months ago (at the time of recording the documentary) She is tall, with angular features, and a clearly visible nose. She is very willing, as we say in Andalusia, and determined. It seems that she did not have a particular desire to undergo surgery, nor that she was aware of being transsexual, but she must have been a rather feminine person who was harassed and detained many times by the Moral Police.

That's why she decided to have surgery and she's happy. She helps other transsexuals find their way to the clinic and tries to talk to their families so they don't disown them and free them from the street. She is very well known at the clinic, for which I imagine she will have some commission that, in view of the difficulties her colleagues encounter in getting ahead financially, cannot be blamed (the clinic receives only a fifty percent subsidy). As she tries to be very abiding by all the rules, she is forced to express an anti-gay opinion very formally, and even affirm that she does not have any gay friends.

This is very sad, because it wasn't necessary. If she had told the director that she didn't want to talk about it, she would have been respected. Perhaps it is also a consequence of the desire of some transsexuals, also here, in the early stages of their transition, to make our difference with homosexuals very clear. Here it may be funny, but in Iran it is not.

Anyway, I hope Vida (it seems she chose her name in Spanish) remembers more those who are less fortunate than her and continues to do well in her work supporting transsexuals.

Another radically different story is that of Deny. He is a beautiful person, with a delicate voice, coming with his stylized feminine beauty from the rural environment, where she studied at an institute.

She's so feminine, her classmates sexually harassed her, so she left him. She is more comfortable dressed as a woman, although in her house she could not dress.

However, Negar doesn't want to have surgery, but circumstances force her to. She cannot work either as a man or as a woman. She tried it as a man, she cut her hair very short, but even so she was so feminine, that the men did not stop harassing her at the same time in both directions: harassing her and wanting her.

She tried to be less girly, and couldn't.

She is interviewed in the same hospital bed, dressed in green pajamas. She says and repeats that she is going against her will. She is accompanied by a friend who is also perfectly beautiful, with a naturally very feminine voice, whose name is Farhad, although this seems to be her male name.

They have been friends since childhood, from the town, and they look so much alike that each one seems twice the other. But, well seen, Farhad is even more beautiful; sometimes, with her huge eyes, her well-made lips, her perfectly clean face, she looks like a movie star.

At the clinic, Farhad declares that she wants surgery for the same reasons as Negar, but she doesn't want it either. Deny is more withdrawn and Farhad is more combative; passionately discusses with a journalist her right not to have surgery if she doesn't want to.

When Negar is called to the operating room, the two friends embrace bitterly. The companion comments that she is going to serve a sentence.

She is seen post-op. To this part, I dedicate my "technical" attention with great interest; He comes out with good color, long flowing hair, and a tired but not too sore expression.

There's a drip next to his bed, in his private room, and I guess they're giving him painkillers. Some isolated gesture of pain, not very marked. A doctor comes to see her, and she tells her that the pains are from labor. But it seems to me that he exaggerates, although it must be borne in mind that his pain is above all moral.

The documentary reintroduces them months later.

Farhad has decided not to have surgery because he doesn't want to lose feeling (which means facing all the legal risks)

In the interview sitting in a car is when I see her as beautiful as a movie star. She lives dressed as a woman. Her family has disowned her and she is very sad.

Negar comes in from the street in a chador, which he removes to reveal a fuchsia evening dress (clothing for women of color is also theoretically illegal)

She's a little fuller, her face has been vulgarized. She says that now she lives better, in a house with some women who have undergone surgery like her who help each other, she says at first; they also live off prostitution.

Her parents have officially disowned her, so she can never return home. She says that if they put that decision behind them, she couldn't forgive them.

She says that the legal way to prostitute herself, being already a woman, is to sign temporary marriage contracts, allowed by Islamic law, even one per hour, up to twenty a day.

If a man approaches you saying "I love you", his question is "Do you have money?"

He affirms that with what he is living, “he no longer has a shred of love left”.

And suddenly she begins to cry bitterly, covering her eyes with her hands.

The surgeon, Dr. Barhand Mir-Jalali, is a jovial man, with thick gray hair, and sympathetic to transgender people. He even says that we are more feminine than women born that way, but he justifies it by saying that, married, we are much more dedicated and more compliant with our work and willing to make our husbands happy. It may be true, in general, given the awareness of the difficulties we have here and there, to get married. With his joviality, at the beginning of the operation, he makes a bad joke about Negar's body.

But we must thank him for his work at this time, the only hope for Iranian transsexuals, made a reality thanks to his hands.

It is also a hope for those who want to escape the repression against homosexuality and see their clinic as an escape, not just personal, but legal.

It would be useless to recall the precautions of free societies towards access to sex reassignment when it is not truly desired; but the Islamic Republic is not a free society; for those who have to reach the limit of having an operation without wanting it, it is not really a reassignment, but rather a refuge, an asylum; and the persecuted cannot be denied.

But in general I am surprised how similar daily life is, the way of being of Iranian transsexuals to that of Spanish ones; how similar our mentalities, our criteria, our houses. It is not an exotic nation, it is basically a nation like ours; I mean nation, not government.

Naturally, the biggest difference, as some of the people interviewed said, is that in Europe religion is not law, and there all religion is law, especially for women; all of them, not only transsexuals, live in fear of the Moral Police; all express a quiet resistance, in a thousand minutiae, even a little makeup, and all, therefore, are more or less illegal.

The operation was worth, at the time of writing the report, around 3,500 euros. He had about 460 or 470 operations, he does not keep count.

I have also seen in “Transsexual in Iran”, the willingness of the Iranian Social Security to grant twenty days of recovery to a patient who requests it; I had nine in the Spanish private healthcare, and another colleague has even had only three in our Social Security.

KimPérez 07-12-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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I have written a novel for the first time in my life, which means that I have maintained the strength of a feeling for weeks. I have titled it "Men and Women". It is not very long, about 150 pages. Now I have to go through it and find a paper publisher. This is the prologue.

I am a transgender woman, reassigned on January 5, 1995. My documents say that I am a woman and live as a woman.

These words are now full of meaning to me. I mean that I not only know what my body is like, my way of thinking, my roles and my life, but I know that they are fundamentally the same as other women's because now I see inside myself that I am like them; I don't need to know whether or not I identify with some particular woman from the outside; I know that what is inside me is very similar to what is in them.

However, until very recently I had my doubts when it came to saying this, and intimately I preferred to take refuge in asexuality and ambiguity as my way of being.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, in June 2010, I had what I call a carnal experience, because it was very physical, very sensitive: a sexual fantasy revived in me that unfolded for weeks, and it awoke sensations and feelings that I had entirely forgotten.

The fantasies that had dragged me along for years, especially between the 40s and 50s, were resurrected, in the state of absolute repression in which I found myself and that I had to abandon in fear.

In that repression, I could only fantasize. To do this, I wrote imaginary stories for hours on end, trembling with excitement, feeling the veins on my forehead throb, afraid of having a stroke at any moment.

The fear of my fantasies became such that I understood that only the passage to reality, written with a capital letter, reverently, could balance me; and I decided the reassignment of sex, above all, even if the world collapsed, to survive; and i got it right

The fantasies had revolved around two themes: the first was an impulse of humiliation and submission, which I have always called masochistic, and I have considered very mine, but I saw that at its climax it was around the acceptance of sadism, terrifying me; and the second, a yearning to see in myself the body of a woman (breasts, bra, masochistic garment), and to live as a woman.

There was reason to feel sick: the relationships between a dominator and his submissives (and submissives) are revealed in stories like the one about the Charles Manson family, the one about Colonia Dignidad in Chile... Look for these names on the web . They are almost always rationalized in some way or take the form of cults.

But the sex reassignment dispelled those fantasies, and I didn't miss them, on the contrary; I felt clean of them, prepared to face reality, because reality was absorbing enough. Fighting to keep my position as a teacher, my family as the daughter of a family, took up a lot of energy.

And suddenly, fifteen years after my sex reassignment, these fantasies resurface, with great force; I have rewritten them again for weeks, albeit with tempered passion because much of their content is now part of the everyday truth; I have changed my sex, my real social life is more or less that of a woman, and I am not alone, I have friends with other perspectives with whom I can discuss them point by point.

These fantasies come to me with the truth of the flesh, not as a mere theoretical analysis, it's true; they stimulate me; They bring me back to life in a thousand feelings that refresh me; in them there is a deep admiration, a tremor, a fear, for the seriousness, the strength, the masculine gravity.

(A few days later, I rewatch “The Dirty Dozen.” Well: Charles Bronson, his beady eyes narrowed, his lips pinched; Telly Savalas, fascinatingly ugly, curve for curve of his face; even Donald Sutherland, infected with virility; his ten-day beards, thick; that's exactly what I mean)

This intense feeling is exclusively for men like these; Not for everyone, far from it.

My reaction is usually that my legs get weak and my hamstrings tingle. I surrender to them. I feel dependency desires. I fantasize that I kiss them and they ingratiate themselves with me, that they protect me excepting me from their savagery.

That's why I say I'm a straight woman.

As the days go by, I slowly conceive a project: let myself be carried away by my fantasy of admiration/dependence, record it carefully, see where it leads me; and analyze it carefully. Talk to her. Argue with her.

Naturally, when writing it, my thoughts lead me to see myself situated in an Islamic society because it is the only one that currently insists on the radical difference between men and women; and affirms the preeminence of men over women.

Based on the idealized notion of harmony between the sexes, on the desire for understanding and to protect the family, it opposes the feminism of confrontation and freedom; but when going from the ideal to the real, it is convenient to read, as a counterweight, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and her confidence in reason and in the novels that opened her eyes.

I speak in the first person of Algeria because I was there thirteen months, between 1967 and 1968; and there I lived semi-publicly as a transsexual.

In writing this narrative, I realize that I am writing about Muslim society as a woman within it. An obedient woman? I'm not; I do not want to command or be commanded; but I know that I can stick very well to a closed, intimate space, protected by logical rules, in which I can see its infinity.

But as I progress in my story, despite my fascination with dominant men, I have to admit that here and there, male domination can also lead to hell.

My other self, Nur, the person that I am in other circumstances, has gradually entered a sick environment, in which for six days hell reaches its fullness; This falls within the plausible.

Perhaps the newest thing that women who find themselves in a situation of dependency can find in this narrative is that it comes from a woman who underwent surgery of her own decision, who both desires and fears her.

I realize that the need for protection, the drift towards submission, instead of arousing in many men a desire for harmony, awakens a passion for domination, it sounds like a click, it breaks the limits.

Thereafter, a sadomaso game is set in motion, and dominance engineering invents ways and means to manage it. Under that feverish imagination, many women lose their lives.

This book is therefore a constant dialogue on the one hand between my reflections, of a woman who is lucky enough to be cultivated, educated, who knows that she must understand what that desire for dependency contains and what lies beyond that desire , and on the other, the story of Nur, who is the living personification of that desire. of her joyful carnal strength and of the harsh corrections that reality imposes on her.

KimPérez 07-05-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Today I am not going to invent anything for the Comment, I just know that I have a duty to echo the report published a few weeks ago by Victoria Bueno in Informacion.es from Alicante, which in turn is based on the study of the young sociologist and scholar Ángel Amaro. Carla has already done it in the News section, let me expand.

Angel, if you read this Comment, if you are interested, contact me, because I invite you to continue studying the transsexual issue, to delve into it by discovering the Ecuadorian trans culture and that you can even travel one day to Ecuador and absorb yourself in endless work.

I really wait for you; I would love to put you in touch with the Quito Transgender Project and, if you want, you will acquire a new perspective, which will amaze you, of what you are beginning to know and has already taken you to the pages of the newspapers.

Possibly, much of what you say will be common with transgenders from other Latin American nations, and I ask that you allow me to speak now about all of them as if they were Ecuadorian, since you say in your study that the majority of those who work in They are from Elche and what I am getting to know a little better is the reality of Ecuadorian trans people; so I tell those who read me to excuse me if I simplify, and that where I put Ecuadorian, read Latin (or Indo-Latin) whenever they can coincide.

What I want to underline the most from the study is the deep sense of family, of mutual support, shared by trans Ecuadorians. Their families are their friends, like our Spanish trans families, they will often be our friends, with whom we share the hardships and joys of our lives, the struggles that we will have to undertake, and that when we are old they will accompany us in our homes without sending us to a residence.

The families of Ecuadorian trans women have last names, generally those of the name of the pensions in which they have lived the most; I suppose that those who are in Spain will maintain that custom.

At the same time, I suppose that this mutual support will be threatened by the deep individualism that uprooting produces: once they come to Europe, far from their national roots, traveling from Italy to Germany or Spain, how many companions do they leave behind? back on every trip? But when they arrive in any new and unfamiliar city, I'm sure they will hold on tighter to the companions they find, especially if they are trans and Ecuadorian, as happens every time we find ourselves living abroad.

I am very sorry that many times Spanish transgender women cannot or do not know how to be close to them so that they can fit more naturally into their new society. Transsexuals, prostitutes, immigrants (and perhaps without papers), as Ángel Amaro has well observed, often have no more Spanish company than the lights of the large streetlights on the roads next to which they are placed.

We can open the doors of our associations wide open to them, to work together, as the Transgender Project does and as some here already do, with this idea of ​​mutual aid, because there is a lot we can learn from each other from our companions!

It is clear that this becomes a call to trans from here and trans from there, trans from transcharco, let's get in touch, when we're not, let's cross the night streets in both directions, let's sit down to have a drink tea!

Let's make the observation that, of the three reasons for their uprooting, "prostitutes, transsexuals and immigrants" there is none that cannot be lived with dignity, none that is bad in itself; if all can live with dignity, there is something bad that is placed above the three: that something is marginalization.

Marginalization is bad, no matter how you look at it. It consists of leaving aside, to a margin, a human being, some human beings. In following our lives and not looking or glancing at those who, at a given moment, need our attention, as we may need theirs at any other time.

The marginalization is what is to blame for the fact that they have to self-hormonal, quickly and running, and super-self-hormonal, to have clearly visible effects and soon.

And specifically, the marginalization of prostitutes. As long as there are people (even progressives, even feminists) who fall into the blatant error of thinking that all prostitution is bad, or unworthy, prostitution will not end, sure, but prostitutes will remain marginalized.

And the future path of prostitution, the logical one, can be said in a few words: VAT + Social Security.

On the other hand, as in all professions, the choice must be free. Many of the Ecuadorian trans women with whom Ángel Amaro has interviewed say that they want to be designers, or hairdressers, or social workers (by dint of experience). Well, if there were no marginalization, they could be. Let's see, where are the scholarships or microcredits for immigrants/without papers/prostitutes/transsexuals?

But there is another marginalization that must also be resolved: that of immigrants in general. As soon as they are in Spain, immigrants are members of Spanish society! Let's draw all the also logical consequences of this reality!

And about the marginalization of transsexual people, what am I going to talk about that the people who enter this Digital Transsexual Newspaper don't know?

“We don't have a pension. We will die in the street”, the article ends emphatically and pessimistically.

This time of crisis is waking us up. Unemployment, the loss of mortgages, have already fallen on millions of Spaniards, who have lost jobs, housing, autonomy, even the worst of all, although the most recoverable thing, self-esteem, can be recovered by feeling that they are participating in a common fight. Social solidarities are reborn, social struggles recover their meaning. Those who fight together, live together. Let's work with the Ecuadorian compañeras; Ecuadorian compañeras, work with us.

http://casatrans.tripod.com/noticias/

KimPérez 06-28-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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In the Botanical Garden, the bar where we usually meet, I tell the story of these days:

I was doing a theoretical paper on the Gender Code, when I had to give an example. I started writing it, and suddenly I saw an entire erotic fantasy being born, so strong that I've been with it for six or seven days now.

I am surprised when I am sixty-nine years old, and when I had settled and settled into an asexuality that seemed truly mine, and typical of my years, especially because, having been operated on, I have no androgens, no estrogens, nothing .

I remembered when I meet some biowomen friends who say that, in their fifties or sixties, they no longer have desires, nor butterflies in their stomachs, because with the end of menstruation they no longer have estrogen, and what do I know Me what.

Well, none of that, because I'm about ten years older, and I certainly have much less hormones than them, and yet, now I'm feeling like you can't imagine, and I don't know why.

I have been upset, for days noticing that I was between mental realities that I did not understand and that I could not explain; but don't worry, because the fundamental ones, my desires, I understood and knew, and they were as strong as if they told me they were reality, my deepest reality that I had forgotten because I feared it.

My feeling of being lost came, not from them, but from not knowing how to order them, how to talk about them in the forums I enter, in this Transsexual Digital Diary, in my group of friends from Fuzzy Sets.

It was as if I had to keep quiet, and not out of prudence, but because I couldn't say a word.

I already know how I can talk about all this, I already know how to tell it.

The fantasy is the same as the ones I had, very intense, crazy then, in my forties. She wrote hours and hours, with my temples pounding, etcetera. They scared me because I felt like I was going to have a stroke, a stroke, and that I was going to die.

Scared by the fantasies, I decided to go real and change my sex for real. i got it right

The new reality was so interesting and so complicated that it sucked my attention. I was able to forget about fantasies, not realizing that I was forgetting about my deep life, manifested in erotic turbulence.

I have spent seventeen or twenty years living in that calm style, happy to have overcome those fantasies as full of pleasure as they are of anguish, thinking that deep down I did not really want anyone, neither a man nor a woman, that I was asexual , and that was my way of being.

The only thing that could wake me up a little bit was when I thought of a very handsome boy, very manly, whom I loved as if he were my older brother, only by letter, and then he faded away, and how I remembered a and again of another very ambiguous, very delicate boy, with a black turtleneck sweater whom I really saw for ten minutes at the Café Flore, in Paris, and I remember all my life. He told me that I liked him because deep down he was how I would have wanted to be.

Sentimentally it is possible; but there were actually no erotic convulsions at the thought of him. Therefore, I stayed within myself, and dressed myself with its ambiguity, its delicacy, but without going any further.

And now I'm trembling with eroticism, feeling it really, physically, obsessing me, and not temporarily, but for whole days. Since I've had surgery and I'm older, all this is a little calmer than that, but not much, and much more pleasant.

This reality, this corporality, is like the signature that this is really happening to me, that it is not a thought, something that goes through my head, but a true experience, as if I had met someone who had arrived to my life.

This someone is new, I don't understand him, he has gotten me into a huge confusion, and yet it's me!

Myself! Who has arrived is me! This is worth remembering.

Me in a different way, me forgotten, in the midst of the rationality of the logic of these years, and yet me more beautifully, more elusively, escaping from the hands of anyone who thinks they understand me, as it should be.

What have I seen in this experience?

First, the strength of the Binary, which I see as two things, two pages, two marble paintings joined as if by hinges, as if they were floating in reality.

The sheet for men and the sheet for women. The more these leaves are opened, the stronger the tension or the desire that is born from men towards women or vice versa; the greater the difference, the more attraction; more together, less tension; more separated, more different, an unbearable tension, which translates into electrical lines intertwined with sparks; but within each page, eroticism also runs up and down, more or less strongly, creating homosexuality, which can have as inconceivable a tension as the one that jumps from page to page.

The Binary is therefore a device loaded with eroticism; just touch it, it hits like a whiplash.

In my years of lack of eroticism, I simply did not see the Binary; now, since the other day, I see it, and it overwhelms me.

Second, strong and amazing, what obsesses me, a yearning to feel the Power of men -I'm not interested in women in this sense- a desire for submission, or subordination, or protection, a yearning for a father figure who makes me straight, surprisingly female straight, while I thought I had no sexuality.

In this desire my eroticism is expressed, in which the Binary trembles with emotion: I desire the presence of Men and I am a Woman.

But who are those who are in each of the immense leaves of the Binary, which seem to float in space, enormous presences, each one made up of billions of Men or Women?

Let's first look at the Men's side. There are, in the first place, millions and millions of people who, we already know, have developed a penis and testicles, and ejaculate, and can father children, as if we were to say the vast majority of the male mass.

And among those men, there are some who are very masculine and others who are very feminine and yet they feel that they are men and they like being men and being on this side.

But if we look much more carefully, we would see among them some who have genital variation, the intersex males, and who prefer to be men. For they are also among men.

They are all drawn to a masculine identity, a masculine ideal, a Platonic idea with which they identify.

And besides the intersex there is another mass, relatively few, but many, thousands, who are men of their own free will, who have been hormonated with androgens, have developed thick beards, or simply, affirm that they need to be in the men's side, and they are, without hormones, or surgery, nothing at all; men.

All men and yet a variety of men, a diffuse set.

And the sheet of women is similar, also a diffuse set of women, in which we are all together, first, those who naturally, by birth, have a vagina, uterus, and ovaries, and can conceive children.

And then, intersex women, who, although they have slightly different organs at birth, want to be women, some of whom, when we look at it, can also conceive children.

And then we, the transsexuals, people who are mentally women, or who want to be women, whether we have had surgery or not, and whether we have breasts, vaginas or not.

The set of women, in which in practice we all enter, is also a diffuse set.

And here we are, in front of men, on one side of the almost infinite Binary that floats in the spaces, in which the billions of our names are written, and continuously launches the rays of its erotic tension into the other side, or sees her go up her own, as if it were her legs, creating lesbian love.

In my fantasy I always see myself in this world of two, on the women's side, looking at the men's side; I am on this side of women, I am not on the side of men, I am not interested in being on it even though I want men to love me, desire me, protect me, dominate me (sorry), make love to me...

So much for my sixty-nine years, but we are in fantasy, and in it I can forget and return to my youth.

But I've just told an adventure that happened to me suddenly; It is my adventure, and I cannot pretend that what I see for myself is what everyone has to experience.

Do I put myself in the place of women and fantasize about my adventures with men? Is it that all women fantasize about men?

Do I long for a man who will protect me firmly, and even dominate me, showing me his power and security? Is it that all people, not even all women need that man?

Do I see in a profound and natural way a world divided in two, men and women? Is it that all people have to see what I am seeing?

Is it possible that someone knows what it's like, and that it's not defined in terms of two?

Is it possible for someone to want someone else, without defining who they want as one in terms of two?

Is it possible that there are those who have a hard time understanding themselves in the feminine or masculine terms of language and not of their reality?

Or feel your gender as fluid, free of limits, allowing you to move through life as if on a luminous and varied sea?

Is it possible that there are those who, in their childhood, did not know very sure if they were a boy or a girl, which side of the two they were on, and that also did not care, or expected to change when they were older?

Is it necessary that the Binary be the only reality, that no one can be outside of it?

Binaryism is not knowing that the Binary exists; is to believe that only the Binary exists.

Non-binarism does not have to be, therefore, denying that the Binary exists. It is to affirm that other realities exist.

And those who live and exist outside of the Binary are many. People who, being intersex, want to remain intersex, not get into either of the two huge leaves of the Binary, and love whoever they want, and be loved by whoever they want.

And transsexual people, who with or without surgery want to continue being in a transsexual identity, which each one can define in their own way, but which occurs without being defined within the Binary

Or ambiguous people, who don't even want to be transsexual, but who know very well what they are, how and why; the others will have to ask them, but they know.

Or asexual people who, for whatever reason, say something like they don't want any part of this tumultuous story, that they're better off out of it.

There are many, immensely varied, and they have in common that, although each of them is only one person, apparently little, they do not want to enter the majestic Binary.

I do now; I got the big surprise of my life.

Now I understand myself better; and to prove to myself that all this is real, I've put on a skirt again, when I've been wearing (women's) pants for months now, which seemed more reassuring, more discreet, more asexual...

And I've put on a shirt that I have, that my sister gave me, which has some golden stripes and makes me more stylized...

And I went downstairs to meet for a moment with a straight friend who told me that he sees me as much more feminine today...

He jokingly adds: "I'm going to look for a legionnaire who will make you look at Cartagena."

And she reminded me that there is a friend of hers who wants to go with me to buy clothes and for the first time in ten years I have said yes.

KimPérez 06-14-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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In order to understand transsexuality, it is necessary to begin by understanding what the Gender Code is. It is a legal body, of the so-called customary or unwritten, but very effective in that it is universally respected by those who must abide by it and are supposed to know its principles (such as the British Constitution).

The Gender Code inspires the Civil and Penal Code, written legal bodies. In general, it founds both what are called "good manners" and "public scandal", whose specific determination usually remains in the hands of the police or judges.

The penal translation of its offenses has changed historically, since in Europe it even provided for the death penalty by burning, later passing to prison and in our times reaching public ridicule and other accessories such as of expulsion from the family or from the job, according to certain legal variants.

(However, let us remember that in many countries the death penalty continues to be applied in our time for certain infractions of the Gender Code, such as adultery or homosexuality)

We can try to put our customary Code in writing. Until about fifty years ago, in the middle of the 20th century, it could be formulated like this:

General introduction (according to Claude Lévi-Strauss): Incest is prohibited.

Article One. Humanity is divided into men and women.

Second Article. Men should be masculine and women feminine.

Third Article: There are men's names and women's names.

Article Four: There are men's clothing and women's clothing.

Fifth Article: There are manners for men and manners for women.

Sixth Article. The sexes must be unmistakably named in the language.

Seventh Article: Men must love women and women must love men.

Eighth Article: Men must dominate women.

Article Nine: The woman must live under the guardianship of the man.

Article Ten: There are men's jobs, the paid ones, and women's jobs, the unpaid ones.

Article Eleven: Men and women must live separately from childhood, except spouses.

Article Twelve: The married woman must be faithful to her husband.

Thirteenth Article: Those who are not included within the provisions of this Code do not exist within the scope of legality. They should be considered abnormal, sick or delinquent.

Article 14: Violation of these norms will be punished, from less to more, with terms of ridicule, ostracism, imprisonment or death (the latter suspended in the West, but may be restored at any time; in certain nations, still in force )

The gender liberation movement started by feminists in the 18th and 19th centuries, followed by the gay and lesbian movement of the 20th century, the queer and transsexual movements of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, have managed to get off the ground. of our customs and our laws, extensive fragments of that Code, demolishing it, but the main and first ones remain in force, those that derive directly from the basic affirmation that there are only men and women.

This basic statement remains widely hegemonic, almost unanimous. This is the gender binary, which continues to contain potentially, latently, all other articles.

Gender binary affects transgender people in two ways, generating variants of the Gender Code. In the first, the one legally in force until recently in the West, men and women were defined from birth to death, which left no legal place for transsexual people, who therefore had to live in marginality or clandestinity. ; In the second, traditionally in force in other societies such as some Amerindians or Hindus, transsexual people were recognized as having the right to join one of the two binary terms, as men or women, therefore, regardless of their birth sex.

These societies had a great advantage over the Western one, which humanized the situation for transsexual people. I am not talking about vagueness: in them, the “womanized” people lived freely; when the Castilians arrived, who had no place for them in their Gender Code, they killed them.

However, it can be remembered that there are societies, like other Amerindians, that go even further by recognizing that there are people who are neither men nor women, and who have a place in society as ambiguous people, nor-men- nor-women; These societies are not binary, since they break the First Article of the Gender Code, which says that there are only men and women.

In the Gender Code in force in the West, as well as in other binarists, its nature as a regime of domination is striking. Some of his (unwritten) articles until recently insisted that the right thing to do was for the man to dominate the woman and for the woman to live under the man's tutelage.

According to the so-called Civil Code of Napoleon, in force in half of Europe until recently, among other parts in Spain, the woman had to have written permission from her husband to travel alone or to buy and sell his goods. It can be said that she left the guardianship of her parents, as a minor, to that of her husband, as soon as she got married.

Our culture was full of expressions that justified and reminded everyone of this regime of domination: “Let the wife obey her husband” (Saint Paul) “The married woman, the broken leg” (Proverbs) “Strong sex and weak sex ” (made phrase)

He disguised himself, sometimes, under forms of gallantry, directed from the strong to the weak: they gave way, they also spoke. condescendingly of "ugly sex and beautiful sex"...

But what is the cause of that domination? Has it always existed? Blunt answer: Not now, or less and less. That is why it is seen that it is not something natural or biological. Therefore, it must have started sometime. When and why?

I am going to present my opinion, which partly follows that of V- Gordon Childe, who in turn transforms Karl Marx's notion of social structure:

(Infrastructure): Within the hunting society, a consequence of the development of throwing weapons,

(Superstructure): the hunting of large animals required for the first time a sexual division of labor: men hunters and warriors, and women, child caretakers and artisans;

in turn, this sexual division of labor, which reserved the use of force for men, generated in them an ideology of domination over women.

So far, everything is clear, reasonable, and can be generally accepted. Some important changes in the infrastructure, such as machinery and today information technology, ended the need for the sexual division of labor, and allowed and even required the economic equality of men and women.

However, let us not forget that we are talking about men and women, and therefore, about people whose fundamental relationships are erotic.

We are not talking about class relations, of owners and proletarians, whose fundamental relations are economic, not sexual. We are talking about people whose basic relationships are sexual and therefore erotic, impregnated with desire.

It is very remarkable that in the current social discourse there is so little place for eroticism. In it, the relations between the sexes are explained by social relations, not the other way around. Partly surpassed by Freud, eroticism has once again abandoned the space of culture. This happens even in feminism, whose texts on relationships between women and men are sexually ascetic, which will have to be analyzed and understood in depth.

Taking into account the basic, fundamental value of eroticism leads us to suggest that the forms of a society divided into dominators/dominated (until today, all of them) have an erotic origin, ultimately.

This statement seems to me more truthful than the one based on V. Gordon Childe's system, which I have followed for decades, because it is deeper, and because it explains

=the hunting society (if it excludes strong and childless women from hunting, and generalizes the subordination of women)

=and even other societies in which manual work is losing social relevance; in favor of administrative work in mercantile society (which nevertheless continued to exclude women) or machines in industrial society (and yet, the continued subordination) or of computers in the information society (in which the real emancipation of women continues to see threats)

This maintenance of the subordination of women when the infrastructural and superstructural circumstances do not make it necessary, then forces us to refer to an erotic origin, which underlies all these circumstances, and raises questions that have no obvious answer.

=Will domination be the result only of male eroticism or of male and female eroticism?

=Will domination be an erotic drive, initiated by men over women and later generalized over other men and women, thus creating dominant and dominated social layers?

=If domination is an erotic drive, is it a perversion or does it correspond to the natural course of the relationship between males and females?

=Since the consequences of a regime of domination are mostly empirically undesirable, can eroticism be preserved and freed from any domineering derivation?

And finally,

=Can the will for conscious liberation prevail over biological determinations?

KimPérez 06-14-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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A week ago, more or less, I began to write about my dreams, as if the ones that have failed were the ones that I am going to live in another life. I titled it “Look what it will be”, I made three versions, I sent them to Carla -from Diario Digital Transexual- one after another, but even so I found it strange, and it didn't fill me up.

Today I asked him not to publish it. The article about my failed dreams was failed. Maybe they weren't my dreams. A little bitter, I start to write it again, thinking that maybe it will come out now.

Because I look sad, nineteen years old, as if I had suffered this disappointment or another similar one.

Or I was still in my particular state of confusion.

I am sitting or sitting, on a bench in the street, head down, a kind of street pajamas, dark, neither male nor female. My legs are together, folded over me, a position that is very mine and that at the same time I know is very feminine, very sweet, very protected and very defensive, very little audacious.

My arms, close to my body, are gently tense, and my hands are resting on the seat. I see my long, delicate fingers. I move them one after the other, as if I were playing the piano.

It's early, summer, it's cool. The light is still white. I am on a walk near, but above the sea. It sounds from afar.

What makes me sad is that I see myself alone. I look at the horizon of the sea, which is grey. Just yesterday I saw Luc and he stayed with me for an hour or two, giving me the joy of his company. But then he disappeared as usual.

There are still rigid barriers between him and me. He has never told me, for example, that he finds me pretty, that my soft, oval features mean something to him, that he misses me in my absence as I miss him.

And yet, when we're together, I take it for granted that's how you feel. It is because of the mirror effect that exists between us. We are so similar, you are so similar to me, I like you so much for looking like me, that I imagine that you like me for looking like you.

We are two bodies or two soul mates. When I saw you for the first time, I was fascinated that you were so thin, that on your face there were two eyes so big and so black, that your mouth was so soft, that your hair fell in such big bangs on your forehead, that you were dressed in a black swan neck that I would have liked to wear so much, that your hands were pale, and as medium and long as mine, that I didn't realize for a moment that we looked alike or, better, that you were as I would have liked be.

Between us there is friendship, there is a lot of company, but there is no sex. There can't be when you're a boy and I hate the male genitalia and find how it works ridiculous. That's what doesn't work between us.

But a relationship of mine with a girl wouldn't come to fruition either, or even less so, because even if she attracted me physically, I'd soon have nothing to say to her. Many times I think that I am not human, I am an angel, and I have the sex of angels, which the ancients could not find out no matter how hard they tried: that they would have noticed someone like me... or like Luc, if he was truly like I.

On this lonely morning, when I'm out in the street and I'm calm because everyone is still asleep, I'm thinking about Luc.

It has never happened yet, but I wish that sometime we would have held each other tight, as if wishing to truly be him me, and me, him.

Feeling the softness of our features together, the natural perfume of our youthful bodies, the beauty of our features when we separated for a moment to see them, and the almost desperate desire to achieve what is impossible: that our closeness became Union.

I know that we are close in many ways, when we go to the street and boast, without needing to say it, of being so handsome and so young that we arouse astonished looks and shocked silences in any place we enter.

I really like that others see us like this and that unites us. I also like the opposite, when we are alone and watch TV. Being physically close, I feel the irresistible attraction of your graceful shoulders, which ask me to gravitate towards them, and that of your delicate hands.

By the shoulders, I would stick to them, to feel your thirty-six degrees next to me, so soft; As for the hands, I would take them in mine, to dialogue with them and their contact about what calls us and what separates us.

Like now, when you have physically distanced yourself from me, because we never managed to be united with the naturalness of any union. You have made excuses, you have had to go to the other side of the sea, a ship that is no longer seen, but that has been here with all its mass has taken you.

I have been left alone, surrounded by this beauty, these palm trees that shake their heads with the early morning breeze, these wonderful bougainvilleas, but all things have remained empty, for me alone, that is to say without meaning, nor meaning, no hope.

Since I'm next to my house, the muffled sound of the phone suddenly reaches me through the open window.

I jump up, I run feeling the fullness of the pajamas sticking to my legs, I enter the house, hoping that the call will not be disconnected, and the call actually continues, again, another, another... I do I take and it's Luc.

KimPérez 06-07-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Dedicated to Mar Cambrollé

On Sunday the 16th, Belén de la Rosa received an Honorable Mention, Roberto G.O., posthumously, and Carla Antonelli (for her Digital Transsexual Diary), Inés Sabanés and I received the 2010 Pluma Awards from the FELGTB, which for me I can say that I love and makes me enormously proud, in the box of the Trans-form Year.

There were about a hundred people at the Topolino Restaurant buffet, many of whom I already knew, others new, including two friends and a friend who accompanied me from Granada, out of pure love, and in a cordial, happy and friendly atmosphere. as are usually those of our groups. Among them I saw Pedro Zerolo, who greeted me attentively, and whom I greeted in the same way (I am waiting for a decision), and Paca Gabaldón.

It all started with the delivery of the Látigo Awards this year, the first for Intereconomía, a channel that repeatedly and ideologically falls into the most archaic homophobia and transphobia. I once heard them ask the typical question of what we are proud of, and if I had had my cell phone handy, I would have answered: "If we had survived." And perhaps: "Despite you."

The second was for Dr. Kenneth J. Zucker, and I think even this "award" is too little for anyone who dares to enter the minds of children who could evolve into a transsexual sense to play with certain toys and not with others, and so that they accept what their nature seems and only seems to indicate to them; He calls it "reparative therapy" and it scares me just to imagine that in my twelve or thirteen years, having a mind bewildered by social ignorance when discovering my identity issues, and at the same time trusting and innocent, someone would have dared to approach me , not to help me be strong, but to keep me from playing freely and to interfere with my self-knowledge according to their purposes and not mine.

There was an “award” on the table, more like a slab, which once again, as Desirée Chacón, FELGTB Secretary, said, was saved for next year, because no one had the courage to show up to collect it and defend their positions, or promise to rectify them.

Then came the Pluma Awards, a beautiful name; in fact, both come from the title of a book by Fernando Olmeda, which I am glad to say that he is a friend of mine, and which is entitled “The whip and the feather”.

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Today, May 14, 2010, at the time I write this comment, the Government of Spain is going to make a public statement, on the occasion of the International Day of Homophobia and Transphobia, requesting the World Health Organization to depathologize transsexuality.

I need to explain what this proposal is. France was the first State in the world to take a depathologizing decision and we are the second to accept this criterion, although without making a separate decision, but asking the Organization to declare it so for the whole world.

And to explain the value of this government stance, I'll start at the end. When it is adopted, for Spain and the whole world (although it is a bit long, trust me), depathologization will not mean that transsexual people are left without Social Security health benefits. On the contrary: it means that being transsexual will be considered healthy, that we do not suffer from any mental disorder (this is what pathologization implies) and that therefore we are people who can autonomously demand our health rights, including treatments, hormones and operations through Social Security.

You may ask yourself: but if we are healthy, why do we ask for public benefits? Wouldn't we have to settle for private ones, like someone who gets cosmetic surgery, paying martín, martín?

The answer is simple. Depathologization will mean that we are not affected by any mental disorder called gender dysphoria or gender incongruity, or whatever. Precisely because we are free of any "disorder" (and if we had another, it would be cured first and holy Easter) we can decide for ourselves what we need. And medical research for sixty years has known that, without any mental disorder, and precisely because of this, many transsexual people experience clinically significant discomfort when seeing a mismatch between their corporeality and their identity, and that it is medically known that relief or well-being It is achieved through the process of hormones and sex reassignment surgery.

Whatever the causes of that discomfort. Doctors are practical; they work on facts, they leave the investigations to the researchers, who can take centuries to find the explanations, but in the meantime, we must attend to the specific people who are alive, sane of mind and that is why we know that we need their intervention.

The medium-term consequences of this government position will be great. The first, that since it is legal, the T will have to be removed from the name of the units that until now are called Gender Identity Disorder Units.

But for this very reason, the next step will be to radically change the protocol that these units follow up to now, and that harms transsexual people in their flesh and in their souls and psychologists in their prestige and in the good exercise of their profession.

The reason is that, based on the concept of pathologization, until now it has been considered that if transsexual people were "disordered", it becomes legal for psychologists and psychiatrists to rule on such a disorder, and therefore receive an authority over us, ruling whether we suffer from "gender dysphoria" or not. In practice, we know very well that this means that they are turned into judges, endowed with the right to decide for us, and we, into minors unable to decide on our lives, in such a crucial matter for us.

The consequences of such an abnormal situation are strange. The first is that the transsexual person sees the psychologist-judge as an enemy. All trust is just done. If the enemy has the strength to attack the center of my life, everything is legitimized, even lying to him, telling him what he wants to hear. And therefore, the studies on "gender dysphoria" arising from this practical experience are invalidated; a situation that began to be understood with great surprise years ago in the United States.

When the World Health Organization, or before, if the Government of Spain so decides, approves the depathologization, I will be able to decide about my life, that of any person. I will be the one who can give informed consent about my medical needs. In this process, it seems natural that Social Security takes seriously what is "informed", and that it asks that you follow a well-determined time of information in the company of a psychologist.

Immediately, as soon as it becomes clear that the decision will be mine, the psychologist will become a friend. I can ask him what I don't know, my doubts, etc., and he will be able to answer me, make observations, warn me of things that I have not taken into account, etc. I will listen carefully, because I will be free. He will be able to tell me what he wants, which will seem right or wrong to me. But I will have been informed. At the end of the predetermined time, I will sign my consent or I will not be interested. He will sign that he has informed me. And point.

By the way, I'm sorry, but I flatly deny what has been said that our government should address the APA to claim the same from them; It is appreciated that the DSM is brought to light here, but I hope that the Spanish Government addresses the World Health Organization and not the American Psychological Association (APA), because we must realize that doing so would be like acknowledging our submission to the guidelines of those who are colonizing us culturally, because we let them because we have not realized what we do, even in psychiatric and psychological matters. Come on, let's react! What is needed is to abandon the current and crazy adherence to the DSM four, five and those who come, although this will have to be a different debate and ours.

I also have to speak in the future, it is clear, because it is not a decision from the Government of Spain, but a request to an international organization and this means delaying it perhaps for many years, with the consequent damage, anguish and difficulties of those who will continue to be subject to the current protocols. It will be necessary, first, for the issue to be widely debated in the international Organization. Time. Later, that the diverse States go decanting. More time. Later, have a vote taken in your assembly. And that you win.

But all this has a silver lining. It seems that our Government has given a signal as to where it is going, but at the same time it has wanted to leave some time for debate, knowing that the issue has not been decided here. This means that the discussion should and can continue here. I have shown the reasons in favor of depathologization, with respect to health rights, and it seems to me that no one, in view of what is meant by pathologization, is going to defend pathologization itself, but I know that there is much to discuss to ensure that the health rights to hormones and surgery are not only maintained, but that their exercise is facilitated.

I hope that many of us will participate in this discussion in the coming months, perhaps a few years; I hope that the result is a majority yes in favor of depathologization and, at the same time, the reasoned demand for the guarantee of our rights.

And I also hope that the Government of Spain will be courageous, in accordance with what it has done on other occasions, and that when it sees that our internal debate has reached the conclusions it reaches, perhaps sooner than it seems, do not wait for the slow procedures of an international organization, and make the decision for yourself, just as France has done, or improving its decision.

KimPérez 05-17-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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TAmerindian culture has been and is gender non-binary. Surprising statement for being so general, but it is that the historical testimonies of the South, the Center and the North show that it has been like that everywhere for millennia, and that is how it has been in the last five centuries of cultural colonization, and so on. they are being in the new times of survival and liberation.

The reality of gender non-binarism in all or almost all Amerindian peoples suggests that it comes from a cultural matrix prior to its diversification, which must be in the collecting culture (I follow here the scheme of V. Gordon Childe )

It must have been so accentuated that it even surpassed the strong sexual division of labor typical of hunting culture; In this, the drift towards patriarchalism is overwhelming, linked to the separation of functions between male hunter-warriors (suppliers of food and security) and female cooks-furriers (transformers of the products obtained by hunting).

Since the hunting culture is not only a sexual divider of work, but also very hierarchical, the way for non-binarism to survive was possibly in that hierarchical structure: the assumption by the “mujeradas” (to use and transform a term classic Castilian) of its radical subordination to male domination, and the incorporation of "the" viragos (idem id) to the dominant group, maintained and strengthened the fundamental fantasy of the new hunting system: a dualism of domination, a structure of dominators and dominated associated with gender.

So, some of the testimonies of mujeradas and viragos that we know, already late, let us see them accepting the dualistic system of domination with sadomaso overtones (that is, reluctantly), especially by the mujeradas; but at this extreme price, they managed to save the main thing: the survival of the non-binary culture.

The peoples of the Caribbean islands and those of the prairies and forests of the North were among the most archaic on the Continent when the Europeans arrived and remained so until the 19th century. We owe to Alberto Cardín a great compilation of texts that show the brutal clash between a binary culture, like the Spanish one, and a non-binary culture, like that of the Amerindian peoples. Guess, between binary and non-binary, which was the intolerant.

Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, in 1535, described the homosexual-transsexuals (these separate concepts did not exist) on the island of Haiti and added: “And thus, you must know that theirs is patient [passive] and takes the charge of being a woman in that bestial and discommunicated act, then they give her the job of a woman, and she wears naguas like a woman's”.

Verbal rejection; however, other times it would be act. López de Gomara, almost twenty years later, in 1552, recounts that Balboa had a battle against Torecha, lord of Cuareca, on the Isthmus of Panama, a population that was probably agrarian and hunting, and "in this battle a brother of Torecha in the royal [royal] habit of a woman, who was not only female in the dress, but in everything, except in giving birth”. It remains unknown if Torecha's sister was a warrior, which would be astonishing (and Cardín supposes) or rather she accompanied a warrior, her husband. But when those of Cuareca were defeated, "Balboa harnessed [he threw the domesticated mastiffs at them for war] fifty putos that he found there, and then we burned them, first informed of their abominable and dirty sin." And he adds, astonishingly: "When the region knew of this victory and justice, they brought him many men of sodomy so that he would kill them." To ingratiate himself with him; with that religion that seemed to need women to make human sacrifices?

Cabeza de Vaca, in 1555, speaks of the towns of the North coast: “among these I saw a mischief, and it is that I saw a man married to another, and these are some men with yellow eyes (sic), impotent, and they walk covered like women and do women's work, and they shoot bows and carry a very heavy load, and among them we saw many of them yellowed as I say, and they are more stubborn than the other men and taller; they suffer very great burdens.”

The analysis of this short paragraph is very descriptive: in it appears the word “devil”, potentially terrible, for attributing the initiative to the devil, and therefore trying to justify the greatest repressions; the word "married", which refers us to the greatest legal conquests of our time; the word "amarionado" (today, "amariconado"), which gives the popular and insulting version of other more cultured concepts, but which is still valid today, while the cultisms have been replaced by others; the notion that they dressed and worked as women. discarding bows and carrying, as women did, heavy loads (they assumed the cultural gender of women), and finally, the equally surprising observation that they were taller and stronger than men, an observation that coincides with the contemporary observation that trans As transsexuals we are often very tall, just as transsexuals are often shorter.

But these remarks by those Spaniards were as brief as they were hostile. Centuries passed, sciences such as Ethnography or Anthropology arose, and thus they were looked at more closely and in more detail. Thus, a line of studies was created in which, reaching our time, George Devereux, for example, participated in his article "Homosexuality as an institution among the Mohave Indians", referring to the Mohaves of California and published around 1937; more than 70 years ago.

I am going to expose some of the much that is said in that chapter, which brings us closer to the life of the women and the viragos, in North America at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th. The very fact of the word “homosexuality” in this context is only a consequence of the lack, even then, of a defined concept of transsexuality, a lack that caused so much damage to transsexual people who lived without having a name; only about five years earlier, Harry Benjamin had begun spreading the name created by Cauldwell.

Among the facts cited by Devereux, it is particularly striking that, with only about five hundred Mohaves half a century ago, they retained their gender non-binary culture, amidst the extreme binary of postwar America.

It speaks, in the present, of the women or alyhá, and of the viragos, or hwame. His references reach testimonies of people born around 1850 and perhaps around 1820, who tell how the decision to change gender was made based on the dreams of the mothers, during pregnancy, plus their own, during the prenatal age and up to adolescence, verified by the refusal to play with the toys assigned according to the visible sex, and confirmed by his reaction to certain ritual songs (which he transcribes) already close to puberty.

The legal status of mujeradas and viragos was entirely that of women or men, with the right to marry included. However, the women and the viragos (these, perhaps more cruelly) and the husbands of some and the wives of others, were frequently insulted by others, but these mockery entered into a feature of Mohave culture whose intensity surprises us even today day: humor before sex, sex as a matter of joke, although the jokes were often very heavy and even destructive.

The mentality of mujeradas, as she describes it, and from our current reading, included reactions that are very familiar to today's transsexuals, such as the rejection of their husbands touching or mentioning their genitals. There was also greater stability in the marriages of the Viragos than in those of the women, nothing that surprises us. And their social manifestations, as a consequence of the general contempt to which women were subjected, were sometimes particularly ridiculous, showing the existence of a latent rebellion against jokes that had to take sadomasochistic forms.

Insofar as the myth is the one version of history and of the archetypes of the collective unconscious, it must be said that, according to Devereux, Mohave culture includes the myth of a primal sexual indifferentiation (as far as it goes beyond from the Jewish: “Male and female he created them”)

The biggest thing is that gender non-binary culture has survived into our time. At the same time that this culture begins to free itself and to live with equal rights before others, especially in Bolivia-Kollasuyo, we realize our ignorance of many of its non-binarist, spontaneous, popular, complex, small-town forms, such as de la Costa or the Province of Manabi in Ecuador, or that of the Zapotec muxe in Mexico. I can't study them, even if I wanted to, but I can make at least a brief repertoire of their incredibly free themes and their creative forms, so that those cultures continue to become fully aware of what has always been seen in them, and we come to learn from them.

KimPérez 05-10-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Pier Paolo Pasolini was a communist, atheist, homosexual, writer, poet, author of films in which the joy and beauty of existence stood out, with an omnipresent admiration for boys, as “The Decameron” or “The Thousand and One Nights”

In others, he did not fail to mark his strong ethical sense, as in "The Gospel according to Saint Matthew", in black and white, elegant and pure, or in the last one, "Salo or the One Hundred and Twenty Days of Sodom", terrible, almost unbearable denunciation of "real" sadomasochism, and whose political allusions upset the Italians.

I pause for a moment on them. In the "Gospel according to Saint Matthew" he puts forward the tenderness that an atheist can feel for Jesus Nazareno. I don't remember his arguments in detail, but I do remember the feeling of peace, delicacy and emotion that came from his black and white. It seems to me that what Pasolini wanted to show can be compatible with this: that in the way of thinking of that carpenter, the first thing was to love those who needed it, and that to be good, one only has to be a lover of as many as they suffer. . As a communist, he too could deeply understand the meaning of those words and the life that fulfilled them.

Now I'm not talking about codified and regulated SM games. In "Salo", a film that is difficult to bear (I had to get up and leave, despite admiring it), Pasolini represents the true sadomasochism, unleashed and oppressive, referring to the party organized by some high dignitaries (the President, the Duke, the Bishop and the Magistrate), in a remote villa, where they try to fully enjoy the humiliation they inflict on some kidnapped victims. I was impressed by the scene in which the clandestinely communist driver who has driven them, before falling victim to them, in the basement where he is, opens his arms in a cross, crying out with anguish for that dignity.

(It is a gesture analogous to the one that, in the movie "Stonewall", the young gay man who recently arrived makes and who, seeing the humiliations that homosexuals and transsexuals have to endure, raises his clenched fist as an expression of his indignation)

The movie "Salo" must have affected some Italian political plot, because shortly after, Pasolini was beaten to death by a boy who alleged that he had proposed to him; the bold Oriana Fallaci maintained that it was actually a political crime for which the boy was only the bait.

And so, Pasolini's body was left lying on a highway next to Rome, crushed, having suffered like the other he wanted to portray.

Then, thinking about the attitude of many current Christians towards homosexuality and transsexuality, it occurred to me to write the script of a supposed scene from “The Gospel according to Saint Matthew”, which in the end would not have been included in the film.

= = =

A bonfire lights up the face of Jesús Nazareno and his companions, who dine next to the Lake of Genesaret, laughing and singing

Jesus the Nazarene. (Smiling) Our songs and our laughter are the Kingdom of Heaven.

Peter. Let's stay by this lake, Rabbi. Let's always stay in this night. Let nothing change. May everything be eternal.

Jesus. We have these hours to enjoy them, Pedro. Let's enjoy peace. In the morning the new day will dawn and who knows what it will bring.

John. It's true, Rabbi. Our hearts are pure. We can look at the stars. We can hear the chirping of crickets.

Jesus. Sing, Judas, sing to our Father, because we are in his palace and we are poor, and we have nothing in our hands.

Judas. (Mateo accompanies him with a reed flute)

What a beautiful door your house has,

guarded by ferocious dogs!;

how can i enter your rooms

and in your loving bedrooms?

Jesus. Well, keep your hearts pure and in love and you will enter the Kingdom forever.

Matthew. Rabbi, we are not alone. Someone has cracked the branches in the bushes next door.

Jesus. (Smiling) Whoever you are, come here with us.

There is a silence. Nobody comes close. Everyone is silent, listening. You don't hear anything. Suddenly, a creak, and again silence.

Jesus. I know it's you, Sodomite, don't be afraid, come with us.

The flames illuminate the terrified face of a boy, dressed in a very feminine way. All of Jesus' companions are silent, baffled.

Jesus. (Fan the flames) Come, come closer, take one of these fish that we are roasting and some wine with us.

The boy's eyes are wild. He wears them heavily made up, as well as his lips, and his hair is dyed red. Necklaces and bracelets.

Jesus. Make room for it.

Everyone does it in awe, but leaving a space of about a meter on one side, and another on the other, as if he were a leper.

Pedro (Impetuoso) Rabbi, this one makes a living dancing and singing in the brothel on the opposite shore.

James. And he has worked as a sacred prostitute in the Abomination of Sidon, when he left seven years ago. He has sinned more times than there are stars in the sky!

Jesus (To the Sodomite) Look at them. What do you think?

Sodomite. (Speaks with a feminine and sweet voice) They are very beautiful, Rabbi. You make me see that they are beautiful and calm.

Jesus. How is the old beggar you found on the street?

Sodomite. It's okay, in my house, as if he were my father.

Jesus. And what about your neighbor's child, the one who was left an orphan, how is he?

Sodomite. Rabbi, he is eight years old now, and tonight he is taking care of my father.

Jesus. They are like your family, right?

Sodomite. The one the Lord has given me, Rabbi.

Jesus. Your heart, Sodomite, is in love and you see things as they are. You, on the other hand, have despised a person who is your sister and have lost sight of the stars of the Kingdom.

(All his classmates look fearfully at the sky that a moment before they admired, and quickly turn their eyes away, embarrassed)

Pedro (Sore) Rabbi, what can we do to make us be as happy as a moment ago, until this one arrived?

Jesus. Let him come to the fire. We have fish, wine and bread to share. And we will be as happy or more than before.

John. It's true what you say! There is room for everyone here! (He approaches the Sodomite and hands him a roasted fish)

Matthew. I'm going to see if there are more poor people hiding and watching us around!

Jesus. Judas, sing again!

KimPérez 05-03-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Non-binarism, whose consequence is to transform closed sex-gender systems into diffuse sets, is having a series of effects on all identity sets and their politics.

In feminism, it has transformed what is already called “classical feminism” into a “transfeminism”, still in its infancy, but showing signs of representing the future.

In it, also encouraged by the theory of decolonization, feminism overcomes any risk of limiting itself to being a simple corporatism or unionism of women, which protects their immediate interests in competition with others, to return to their full understanding as gender liberationism, led by women (diffuse) and by any other person with similar approaches.

This is how the paradox is historically overcome that, captivated by generalized binaryism, feminism, the first of the gender liberation movements, has long since fallen into a radical binarism, conceived biologistically as a struggle of “women” against “men”, or “all women” against “all men”.

In fact, feminism barely took hold, and in its image, another gender liberationism arose, that of gays, who turned out to be men who suffered the oppression of other men, in much more violent and even lethal terms than the one that women suffered. This made visible that gender oppression was not only of men against women, but of men against some men at least; and it even made one think that, if there were some men who were victims of gender oppression, there could also be men who did not want to function as oppressors, and that the line of gender oppression, even though it was gender, did not go through biological separation between “men” and “women”, understood in a binary sense.

It is of great interest for dialectical purposes, that is, for the purposes of historical discussion, and clarification of ideas, a fact that I therefore do not consider negative, but rather the negation of a previous affirmation that must be followed by a new affirmation , at a higher level of understanding: I mean that, in the recent and historic State Feminist Days of Granada, at the same time that transfeminism entered them in a storm (new affirmation), a closing party reserved for women was prepared, that it was wanted closed to men (denial of the previous affirmation of male dominance), which aroused a strong response from the most innovative sectors.

If the effects of non-binarism on feminism are spectacular (the consequences of all these apparent minutiae are immense), those that they can have on trans groups are huge in theory, although in practice all they do is confirm the validity of many personal practices.

I will specify that, among trans / transsexual / transsexual / transgender people, there are many who have a definitely feminine identity, many others who also have a definitely masculine identity, and many others who have an identity or identities that in the absence of one better description we will define as trans.

Well, non-binarism and the theory of fuzzy sets of gender give each of these identities a logically justified place, while allowing them to affirm the points of contact or intersection between sets.

Once it has been affirmed and understood that, more than women, there is a diffuse group of women, which encompasses a great variety of human beings, it is natural that transfeminines are among them.

The same can be said regarding what was previously understood as a closed group of men, so closed that it would definitely leave out numerous men. As soon as we see that it is actually a diffuse group of men, it is natural that trans masculine are considered among them.

If, as a result of all this, we see that there are even more diffuse groups, such as intersex or androgynous people, who have an intersex or androgynous identity (and not masculine or feminine), it is also more natural that trans people with intersex or neutral identity, or whatever we want to say, let us fully have our place in this diffuse group.

On the other hand, due to the way of presenting what I have said up to now, one of the intersections between these fuzzy groups can be clearly discerned: the condition of being trans, of people who have made a gender transition, common to masculine trans , trans feminine and trans neutral, or ambiguous, or intersex, or however we want to say it.

The change from one concept to another is so strong that, theoretically, it would even be convenient to adjust more precisely the very name of “trans-sexual”, understood up to now as a person who transitions from one (closed) sex to another (not less closed)

It can be understood from now on as a person who transits externally from one of the fuzzy sets to another, either from the most differentiated forms of one to the most differentiated forms of another, either from or to the less differentiated forms of one or another.

In other words, you can move towards a Stallone model, with full awareness and will, or towards a Jennifer López model, with the same awareness and will, and all of that is legitimate, or choose to stay in a less differentiated area, and yet diffusely masculine or feminine, and that too is legitimate.

If you think about this second possibility, the transition immediately becomes less defined, and it can even be affirmed that sometimes there is almost no transition, that the person simply remains where he is, in a place relatively far from the densest and most dense centers. defined of those fuzzy sets.

It goes without saying that the current "real life tests", carried out with binary assumptions by gender units, no longer make sense. I (anyone) could pretend to transition from man to woman, and choose to wear jeans and baggy jackets.

Precisely, and already historically, in its short history, non-binarism, or its consequence, the theory of gender fuzzy sets, what it does is give the many trans people a rational place, regardless of whether we understand our identity as close to the centers of the two largest diffuse groups, that of men and that of women, whether we understand ourselves far from those centers, in the more diffuse periphery, that is, that we do not want to be men (diffuse) or women (diffuse). ), but simply ourselves, assuming our uniqueness.

In both cases, the word transsexual gains in agility or flexibility or comfort when dealing with full insertion into diffuse and non-closed groups.

In closed sets, in effect, it was necessary to face their closure; their closed definition, characterized by the logic of yes or no (XY yes or no; XX yes or no; or genitals in this way, yes or no ; or the other, yes or no) could always try to block the way to those who did not agree with her.

In contrast, the fuzzy definition of males can include XY or XX males alike. The fuzzy definition of women includes XX and XY women equally (and in both cases, other chromosomal variants) with the revolutionary consequences we have seen for feminism.

On the other hand, the transsexual person does not have to worry too much about not reaching a perfect equality with the people who are there from birth, because in reality, both of us belong to the same diffuse group, in which there is always a more and a minus. Fuzzy logic is that of more or less, not that of yes or no, and in this consists its adaptation to many human realities.

KimPérez 04-26-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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It's non-binarism that allows me to see the variety of people that we are in this sex-gender system!

On the contrary, binaryism, which is ideological, which does not correspond to reality, repeats to us over and over again, millennia ago, monotonously, "there are men and women, period". All you have to do is remove your binary colored glasses to see what on the other hand we have always seen without paying attention: there is intersex, at least. There is more than these “men and women”.

I've had binarist-colored glasses on almost all my life, like everyone else. As a result, I have had an extraordinary life, from the majority point of view, although I'm sure quite common among us, the visitors of this page. I have been a man, and I could not be a man; I wanted to be a woman, and I could not be a woman. I have felt binaryristically lost. I did not regret it, I felt well-being, but where was I? What was it?

Binary had no answer for me. We already know, “there are men and women, period”. Me too? Where do I go?

Little by little, the denial of binaryism, non-binarism began to settle in my thinking, although the turns of the old veiled my vision again and again. After all, I had no one to talk to about this, and what cannot be said seems to not exist. The first thing I said to myself was “more or less”, ten years ago, before I knew that this is the essence of non-binary logic. “I am more or less a woman”; not that I was very convinced.

A halt. I know that there are compañeras and compañeras who say with their mouths and souls full “I am a woman” or “I am a man”. I am not talking about them or about them; they speak with the soul and they have the right to say so, because we already know that the brain is the first sexual organ.

Continue. But it is that we are other people who are neither men nor women nor bios nor trans, nor transsexual nor intersex. Perhaps you feel the same degree of confusion that I have felt. Perhaps, some of you, by dint of analyzing yourselves, discover, as I have discovered, a series of nuances in your history, in your sensitivity, in your reactions, in your sexuality, which do not quite fit with any of the established schemes, until the point that, with a lot of effort, you would end up having to invent a new category, and this category would end up being personal.

Well, first things first: all this is pure non-binarism, it can be seen thanks to the general non-binarist vision, thanks to the fact that we have taken off the yes-binarist glasses that we have worn for so long (There are no non-binarist glasses binarists: what we see is natural)

But non-binarism, which what it does is accept that the people that exist are in a thousand ways, is compatible with the concepts that we can form of human beings, only that there will be many concepts, and not just two.

And what concepts do we use for us, the weirdest, those of us who say that we do not accept men, women, or intersex, and we accept trans with reservations?

I found my own. It would be very difficult for me to find people who fit quite similarly to who I am, to what I have lived, and so on. We would be so few that it is not worth defining ourselves by mutual agreement with one word.

In our experience, in that of many people more or less similar to me, perhaps very different, but similar in some very important points, I have found a clue. A phrase that we usually say, as it is: "I am first of all a person".

This one sentence alone changes the perspective. Stop worrying about less important things. It focuses on other more important or rather, the most important.

It means, in matters of sex-gender: “I don't allow myself to be defined by any category established by any gender code, neither traditional, nor modern, nor postmodern. I am first a person, and then we will see the kind of sexgender to which I more or less resemble, with which my affinities are more or less”.

I call ourselves extrasexuals, we are people who are outside the gender system, and we even go beyond it. Extrasexual does not of course mean supersexual, sexually superactive, extra here has its original meaning of "outside", it means that we are outside of any gender code, because these always begin with the first requirement, the definition, and we cannot or We don't want to define ourselves.

I don't like excluding, blunt, binary, yes or no definitions. What hurts me the most about the definitions of sex-gender is that people classified as men are forced to act in one way and those classified as women in another. It hurts me, I do not accept being forced to choose one side and lose the other; a half of life, nothing more than a half.

That defining oneself is closing some doors, as a boy I've met told me.

Another thing, although it seems the same, is that the humane way of locking up so-called men and women separately overwhelms me. It hurt, it really hurt a lot because in any case they put me where I didn't want to be. That's why it overwhelmed me, beyond imagination, that others assumed that I was what I wasn't and that I had to be on the men's side, because my body was what it was! Or on the women's side!

Almost everyone loves to put themselves on one side, from a young age, "boys with boys and girls with girls", and then wish each other from that side, clearly from that side, wish each other a lot and get together little, and meet, “men with men and women with women”, and tell each other their battles on the other side; it will be fine, if that is what the majority prefers. Football Excellencies! Excellencies of the "tapabuey" meetings, as my mother says!

I'm not saying all of that isn't good. Perhaps in the operating manual of the human species it says, on page 15, that there must be a distance between the poles for electricity to jump, and that, without having read it, everyone knows. The boys and girls (I'm not saying boys now) who spend the whole week together at the institute with their unisex tracksuits, you have to see how they dress up and differentiate themselves to flirt on Fridays.

Not me; me (the donkey in front because I'm talking about something I feel) and the people who say things that show they're like me, we don't do those things. I'm not saying we are better, but we are different.

I think that if we see ourselves above all as people, it is because we see ourselves as thinking and feeling beings, and we can also see others above all as thinking and feeling people.

People can be loving, generous, kind, understanding, whether they are male or female or something else.

They can also be self-centered, harsh, insensitive, cruel, arrogant, bullying, whether they are men or women or something else.

Or also neither fu nor fa, be they men, women or something else.

In other words, for what matters to us, we are first people, and then men, women or something else.

If this is what you value, and in this order, you are not within the binary order, and its simplifications, which previously said that men were good and women were bad, and now the opposite.

Therefore, it is enough to say this to be outside the binary gender code, the ancient and the modern and the postmodern, and to be in fact extrasexual.

And knowing that what you value most is being a person (thinking and feeling) the rest, which comes after, is very varied. You can consider yourself a man and be comfortable, and go to the stadium when it's time, or be a woman, and be comfortable, and read one of those women's magazines that still exist, a sign that they're necessary, or something else, and do whatever you feel like (for me, reading and writing) and find your happiness with women, with men or with other people.

This is extrasexuality. Being a person, seeing others as people, sensitive men, intelligent and solid women, or the other way around, or whatever it is with whom we are something else, and go through life, and count who your friends have been, your friends or your friends (now yes) some of whom you will have loved passionately.

Extrasexual. Being outside of gender codes, being above, in the place where one is human.

And then the old enigma is solved: What is the human form, since there are two basic physical models, that of a man and that of a woman? (Sexual dimorphism is called this)

And it shows. The human form is not physical, it is spiritual. It is seen not by the eyes of the body, but by those of the mind. It is being able to think and feel. It is a way of being, of thinking and feeling, that can be admired or loved, or feared or loathed. But always thinking and feeling.

To be human is to think and feel. To be aware. Conscious for better or for worse. To be aware.

Be loved or feared because you know what you're doing.

A horse doesn't need a mare to have a different shape to want it. The scent is enough.

A person does not need the other person they see to have a different form to love or fear them: their way of being is enough. And this is independent of sex.

KimPérez 04-19-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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It is true that in human history there are two parallel projects of domination, one social and the other economic. And one, the other or both, they often threaten transsexual people. The first, the social one, has been that of some men over women in general. The economic one has been that of the owners over the expropriated. The truth of the first project of domination can be verified externally by simply observing its extreme sample, that of the Taliban over Afghan women, denying them education and even medicine, and comparing that sample with less radical practices, in what is may seem, and even with the Napoleonic Civil Code, in force in Spain until the second half of the 20th century, which reduced married women (my mother, for example) even to travel or sell or buy what they owned, for all of which they needed her husband's signature (my father loved her, respected her and they decided everything together; but that was not what the law said) But I can also verify the truth of that domination thinking about it internally from my own experience, because before the arrogance of Some of my classmates at school reacted in the same way that many women do, developing a submissive masochism, which found its paradigm in the model of the submissive woman and thus made me transsexual. I strengthened my imagery during my stay in Algeria, in which the imprisoned woman became the model through which I expressed a vague eroticism: I hoped one day to be able to live in the confines of my home and regretted having to go out every morning to work. As often happens to those who have internalized domination in the form of submission, I was irritated by the women's liberation movement, which was destroying one of my icons: the naturalness of this submission. Later, it was this movement that revealed to me the existence of cultural gender as opposed to natural sex, thus allowing me to overcome the cultural contradictions in which I lived and free my personal expression without masochism. The other project of domination is very old, so old that it almost seems inappropriate to me to remember how much. Suffice it to say that since private property replaced the old communal property, and the entire society was divided between owners and dispossessed (including some women among the former and many men among the latter), the dispossessed, first as slaves, then as vassals, then as proletarians, they had to hand over their work to the owners, who managed it with more or less intelligence, allowing them to prosper or plunging them into misery. Domination projects are binary by definition, since they must constitute social forms divided into two and only two: the dominator and the dominated. Any independent third party is seen by the dominator as a threat, since it makes visible the possibility of someone who remains free from his domination. Domination is then translated into an ideology of the two. The domineering male will tend to think that he is only opposed by women, and will in fact forget in serious speeches or degrade in practice anyone who does not fit his imaginary binary, through ridicule or direct repression, whose penalties range from from marginalization to execution (even today) The owner will have to compromise, since ancient times, with practices of opposition to his domination over the dispossessed, from family or individual businesses to cooperatives or unions. But their model of domination will climb even over medium and small companies, in a trend towards the concentration of power in a few hands and the extension of their domains, which today reaches its historical highs with monopoly capital, which absorbs the resources of others through its apparatuses. financial and state and its new class of private (executive) and public (political) owner-managers. In the midst of these dominations and their turbulence, the most diffused people in matters of sex-gender, gays, lesbians, bisex, trans, intersex, extrasex, we are constitutionally outside the binary; It is our personal constitution or our gender-sex way of being that prevents us from accepting the rules of the binary gender code, it makes us naturally unsubmissive, while the binarists try again and again to impose them on us. They continue to do so using the usual resources, although for the moment the compromise is greater, but ridicule always threatens us, marginalization, more or less, each in their own way, of which we have numerous experiences that form the routine of our lives, and the repression every time society reaches emergency situations, which make us think that the priorities are different from respect for all human beings. non-binary people,Already threatened with the danger of their lives in continents such as Latin America, where they still have a space for free expression in extreme marginality, or strongly repressed in Africa or the Islamic world, we raise our heads for the first time in millennia in Europe, North America or Japan, but we must know that if the current megacrisis turns into chaos in a few months (I have read it in Le Figaro, a French conservative newspaper; or in Chispas, a Spanish left-wing magazine) the blows will hit us everywhere. In this situation, we can turn in on ourselves, folding ourselves fetally to avoid blows, aware of our minority and surrendering ourselves once again to our individual survival, or we can be aware that the projects of domination that harass us make us deeply supportive of the people who fight against these dominations, who potentially represent the majority of Humanity. Beginning with solidarity with women, necessarily, finding in them models of solidarity and community life, not domineering, and lamenting that binaryism, internalized since they intensified their struggle in the 19th century, is sometimes manifested in excluding rituals that make them feel alienated from non-dominant males, homosexuals, historically more crushed than them, and even trans masculine, to whom they sometimes offer support that in this context is insulting. Following the solidarity with the indigenous movement of Latin America, which contributes a communitarian tradition in the economic sphere and non-binarist in the sex-generic sphere, which has subsisted throughout five hundred years of colonization and today expands for the first time since then, demographic , linguistically, culturally and politically. Stimulating the feeling of solidarity with the unemployed throughout the monopoly system, also dispossessed again to the extreme, who find themselves unable to maintain their homes and have to resort to emergency solutions; or that they have not been able to conserve their resources to feed their families and have to stand in long lines at the assistance centers every day, at the time when they had the simple habit of eating. The only ones who have woken up in the West from the consumerist dream, but who still do not shout in the streets every day for their sufferings. That cooperatives, family businesses, small and medium-sized companies whose workers participate in their ownership and management, are increasingly seen as the economic system of the future, crowned by large publicly owned companies, managed professionally and not politically. In all of this, the people that I have described as more diffuse must be present, taking advantage of this moment in which we have managed to affirm our dignity, so that what we have achieved is no longer lost, in the new environment in which we run the risk of a return to brutality; We have to live as a community, in mutual solidarity, with all those immense social bodies, with women, since they are also diffuse, with diffuse men, with the defeated and humiliated indigenous people, and with those marginalized by the economic crisis. The goals of our action must be to build a balanced and free social order, because only in freedom can we ensure our survival; Let's remember that we are facing two projects of domination, not just one. If we fought only for economic solidarity, we could see gender and gender domination subsist or soon emerge within it, as in fact occurred in Cuba and Eastern Europe. Fortunately, trans, gay, lesbian, bisex, intersex, extrasex, we contain in our veins a need for freedom that opposes us to any attempt at domination. The Pride Parade, contrary to what conservatives believe, is everyone's pride, because it represents everyone's freedom. As long as there are Pride Parades, even with commercial floats, the freedom of all citizens will be maintained. If some sad day they stop being made, the freedom of all citizens would be threatened. Such is the importance of avoiding gender-sex domination for social life.

KimPérez 04-12-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Dfrom your perspective you can be very lonely. As if you were sitting on a hillside, with no trees or bushes, just grass, maybe dry by now, and a bit of a breeze, you are wearing the baggy pants of your childhood and adolescence. You look like the little prince you were, and you know that his cloth hides the secret of which you are most proud, your unique body, your body without sex.

Your condition has no name, neither of the two names in use, neither man nor woman, not even intersex because you are not in the middle, you are not half man and half woman, but that does not worry you, because you know who you are, you are yourself, not even the word transsexual is useful to you.

To know what you are, you only need to look at your past, remember and care for the memories you find. Its delicacy, its subtlety, its nuances, you understand them. You would need hours to explain it to anyone else. But you know it in a moment, as soon as you remember.

The first person who has had the audacity to say that she is what she is, in Australia, they have written on her papers that she is of indefinite gender. But the word is not well chosen. You are of a very defined gender, that of your own person, which you can describe in great detail. What you do not have is a name, and for this reason, in social life, you can accept whatever they give you, as long as it indicates clearly enough that you are neither a man nor a woman. Neither meat nor fish, that which horrifies those who They want to define themselves as men or as women. Maybe you are an angel living on earth.

When you have been learning in life, you have been seeing more and more clearly things that have surprised you more and more. It is true that you have had to fight with your body that you wanted to become young and adult but not like a man's. You don't know why, and someday someone might find out, but it's enough for you to know that this is exactly what you wanted.

Growing up as a soft and delicate boy; with long arms and long legs, with large black eyes like yours, with a soft mouth, a perfect oval face, without a vestige of beard, in that respect like a woman's and above all without sex.

That's your genre, precisely, exactly. Perhaps, if it were possible, as nature blindly pushed you in the opposite direction, you would have been content with a hormone that would have allowed you to remain in that state. Hormonation so tight that she wouldn't even have developed breasts. Well, that hormone exists, it's what's called puberty arrest.

You didn't want puberty. But since you knew less then than you do now, you considered yourself obliged to have an operation, and you did. Up to a point it was better. It made it more obvious, in everyone's eyes, and in your own eyes, that you didn't want to have sex.

What a delight to go down to the beach in the morning, with only one piece of swimsuit, smooth and adjusted to your belly, without the need for more, because on your torso, smooth, thin and long, there were no breasts.

Or even better, even go down naked, without the need for any clothes, because there was nothing to hide.

Nothing. The other bathers, sitting in the sun, in their one- or two-piece bathing suits, would stare at you as you walked across the sand to the sea, or as you emerged from it, your hair soaked and falling on your forehead and neck, your entire body shining underwater, moving gracefully, oscillating your hips, surely like those models that come out of the sea in advertisements, but without breasts, without sex.

“What is it?”, those who looked at you would ask almost shouting, looking at you in amazement, trying to understand. "It's me, a person", you would answer with your mere presence, without words.

Then, when you got to where you had your clothes, you would get dressed, and you would look at the sea, almost like now, that you are on the hillside, thinking with peace that the cloths that covered you would now veil your secret, turned now to privacy, a secret that, going to the street, would remain only before yourself, more delicate for that very reason.

(Others could imagine it, seeing your baggy clothes, your horizontally striped shirt, hanging on your invisible hips, your wide pants that stop long before reaching your ankles, your beautiful soft hair, your almost girlish face , your hands and your little feet; but they wouldn't know it exactly; that would be left only for you and for that reason it would be more charming)

You would have had to fight more or less with nature, it's true, in the violent ways that are still the only ones we know of, through medicines and surgeries, but you would have had to fight more with the gender code, before and after , which says how people have to be, and that we have to be men or women, to know what name to give us, and to anticipate what we are going to do, and how our life is going to be before living it and what will is going to happen, and how are we going to react, all known, safe, predictable land.

And you are yourself, as you are made (note, suddenly I have naturally changed to feminine), personal, unpredictable, we don't know why, but you are like that, that's how you exist, you are in this way that you recognize when you think on you, that it sounds like soft music in your ears inside when you think of it, and that if it doesn't have a name yet, that's as easy as making up a new name.

Those who see you from afar, admiring you for your uniqueness, feel sorry for you, however, thinking that you are alone and that it will be very difficult for you to find a person who wants to be by your side and that you want to be there.

You also take a deep breath thinking about it, and you want to cry, because it's true. But you need, first of all, to be you, and for others to see that it is you. How could anyone who didn't see you as you are, but insisted on seeing another kind of person in you, love you? And how could you accept that love and bear that in the closest moments he described you as if he were seeing another person very far away?

Would you like someone to cast enamored eyes on you when they see you slowly waddling up from the sea, as if you were that girl in the commercials? Yes, certainly.

Would you like those arms wrapped around you in the cool sheets of a bed? Needless to say, how wonderful!

But who? A man, a woman, someone more or less similar to you? You don't know it like that in the air, that person would have to appear for you to fall in love with her, just as you would have to appear in front of her for her to fall in love with you, what you want, and not with anyone who was interchangeable for you.

Would you like someone who could sit here next to you on the hillside, and you could lean and lean against them as if you were leaning on yourself, with that ease and confidence, so that whoever saw you from afar wouldn't know if you were one person or two.

That is difficult, but it is that life, if you ask a lot of it, is difficult.

KimPérez 04-05-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Hwe talk about the whole of society, not just majorities or minorities, as if they had nothing to do with each other.

We want you to see what is there, to open your eyes and draw the consequences.

What there is in society, in terms of gender, that we did not invent, is a great variety of behaviors and natures.

We know that the majority of people (I will repeat the word majority here, and then I will expand on minorities) are men and women, who clearly respond to the binary plan, which is the one assumed by nature in plants, animals and us .

But if we understand that their way of being must also be archetypically binary, that is, that men have to be energetic, strong in character, physically strong, etc., and women, sweet, affectionate, sensitive, etc., we are wrong a lot.

I am going to resort to a scientific-empirical argument to explain what I mean. I have had the opportunity to teach for many years the psychological characterology of Heymann and Le Senne, based on the combinations of three variables, which are emotionality-non-emotional, activity-non-activity and primary-secondary (response time), because it seems to me amazingly correct.

This characterology defines eight psychological types, which can be called passionate, angry or active, nervous or sensitive, sentimental, sanguine or visceral, phlegmatic, indistinct and apathetic. The very names indicate how different the people included in each of them can be.

The important thing is that these types can be the same for men or women. The characterology we mentioned does not distinguish between sex.

My own observations on this typology make me see a high number of correspondences (although still, not quite, as if there were a lack of variants to consider) between real people and these logical characterizations.

The same can be said of another characterology, whose author I do not remember now, less detailed, which starts from the consideration of body shapes and their correspondence with mental shapes, and divides people into somatotonic (medium height, rectangular features , muscular; simple, active, extroverted characters); cerebrotonic (tall statures, heart-shaped, thin features; thoughtful, sensitive, introverted characters) and viscerotonic (short statures, rounded, thick features; cheerful, lively, sensual characters)

These types also apply to men and women; these notable differences are not due to sex.

It can be said that the same thing also occurs in the tradition of the twelve zodiacal types, which we use a bit amusingly to know what we are like, and which also applies indistinctly to men and women.

When comparing these distinctions with the version I gave at the beginning, related to what men and women are like, it results in a strong simplification, which in summary considers that all men are choleric or active (Heymann-Le Senne) or somatotonic and that all women are sentimental or sanguine (Heymann-Le Senne) or cerebrotonic or viscerotonic.

This simplification does not correspond to reality, which is much more complex, and yet it has subsisted in the collective imagination, with all its strength, until the middle of the 20th century and, to a large extent, until now.

In addition, it has a normative value; it is not just about affirming that men and women “are” like that; it is that they “should be” like this. And if they are not, they should learn to be.

This lack of correspondence with reality and this normative nature show that we are facing an ideological phenomenon, the validity of a Gender Code that tried to transfer the sexual binary to a temperamental binary, transforming it at that point into binary. The reality is that, when talking about temperaments, we have to talk about more than two, maybe eight, maybe many more, if there is any other variant to consider.

These typologies consider the relationships between behavioral elements (that of Heymann-Le Senne) or morphological and behavioral elements, but do not enter into a deeper etiology. It is possible that the different types are related to variations in hormonal flows during the prenatal age and especially with hyper-hypoandrogenia, both in men and women, which I have often considered as one of the hypotheses that must be taken into account.

It is clear, if this were the case, that a certain difference in these flows does not alter the basic sexual differentiation between men and women. However, one could speak of greater definition or ambiguity in both, if we take as a measure of that more or less the amount of androgens received during prenatal age, which currently cannot be quantified. In this way, the same sexual binary is intimately soaked, literally, by a non-binary, which could only be annulled by an intervention on perfectly healthy unborn, in the name of an ultra-binary eugenics ideology that would profoundly affect the natural balance of our kind.

The vision of this complexity with the binarist color glasses that we have all learned to use, makes men who have more hypoandrogenic or feminizing behaviors and women who have more hyperandrogenic or masculinizing behaviors seem unnatural to us, when precisely they are within the natural range of behaviors; they are perfectly natural; but from the fact that they do not seem natural to us, we easily pass, some to repression, and others to guilt, some to imposition, others to submission, or clandestinity, or rebellion, when all are manifestations of a reality that, starting from a binary, and within itself, it is not binary, closed in two, but multiple.

However, the natural reality is much more complex. Because the majority that I was referring to at the beginning embodies the tendential binary of the sexes, but there is a considerable minority, almost two percent of the population according to the calculations of Anne Fausto-Sterling (the only ones that I think have been made). that does not fit with the sexual binary more or less.

There are people who were born with bodies other than those that fit the binary, more or less. The XX/XY dichotomy is not universal; there are people who are only X (X0); there are people who are XXY; and the so-called chromosome mosaics can be much more complex. In other people, including XY, a certain gene is not present, so they are born with externally female bodies, although they even have internal testicles.

In other people, the phenotypic variations (that is, visible) in relation to the majority, can be very considerable (I want to remind here Fernanda or Fernando Fernández, from Zújar, Granada, who was born in 1755, the first intersex person scientifically registered in Spain, and considered with such respect that a legal sex change was carried out, as desired)

There are also internal variations, referring to the internal sexual ducts (I have read it in Gilbert-Dreyfus, a great French specialist in intersex), among which we could, still conditionally, include the hypothesis of cerebral intersex that Zhou began to study.

According to what I have said, this hypothesis could be refined considering that, within the binary majority, there must be a range within the brain morphology that goes from more defined forms to more indefinite forms due to prenatal endocrine formation , so that most people would be more or less cerebral intersex, in a degree that would be consistent with the rest of the sexed body and with the identity or concept of personal reality.

However, one could speak of defined cerebral intersex when it manifests itself in a definitely crossed sexuality (or sexual, bodily behavior), for example, in the desires for penetration that XX people may have, or in the lack of these desires in XY people, or even in the hypothesis that a person's sexualized body image is determined by their brain structure.

It can be objected, dialogically, arguing that these realities (intersex, transsexual) are exceptional, that they cannot be taken into account when interpreting reality. But, with all that said, it seems that they rather enter into the continuum of nature that overlaps their own binary plan. And, on the other hand, how can they be forgotten, when each one of them corresponds to a real life, that has to be lived day by day and that will last many years living?

It can also be assumed: They are pathological realities. But it can be answered: No; They are trials that life continually carries out, some more adaptive, others less, they are part of biological variability, which is a good in itself, which should not be limited because it can be full of opportunities and new forms of life.

Something deeper can be argued: but there is an ideal of masculinity or femininity to which we should approach as much as possible. The answer must be equally profound: that ideal and that of femininity are a kind of archetypal models that gravitate over the whole of humanity, but with which the same natural reality maintains important distances and individual human beings have specific lives to live.

Therefore, the real and true society is not made up of men and women (period), as we tend to think, or of two very defined and distinct sets, two completely different blocks, but rather of various sets, one of men, very different from each other, that if we look at the androgeny variant, they turn out to be more men or less men, another of women, with the same differences as the previous one, another of people located in the middle or outside of the two previous ones...

This we know to be so, that this is reality, that things work this way in the real world. However, as if we were stunned by the propaganda that there are only two sexes, or one or the other, separated by a very deep fissure, we need to open our eyes, see reality and draw the consequences of what we see.

It is not that the two sexes are radically separated. The chromosomal binary is not total, it does not cover the entire population, but rather the majority, and it is doubled by an endocrine non-binary, which is clearly a matter of more or less, not of yes or no (of non-binary logic versus to binary logic)

The reality is that the two archetypal sexes intermingle, even in all of our bodies. There is even a fundamental non-binary, anatomical, that should make us reflect. All people have nipples, developed or not; all people have the same clitorideopenian organ. The most virile man has the principle of what it takes to nurse a child, and the most feminine woman, the principle of what it takes to penetrate. Transsexual people can simply develop through hormones what is in germ in our bodies.

And in terms of behavior, in terms of psychology, we have already seen to what extent men are different from each other, women too, and among each other there are people who can get closer until making the leap from one group to another. another or prefer to stay in the middle.

All of these are properties of humanity as a whole, not of some minorities that need to be looked at separately, as exceptions to the rule that are not fully understood.

No; the rule is not radical separation, they are not two humanities. The rule is the flow from one form to another, in which people situate ourselves rather in the largest agglomerations, or some between them.

This is reality and these are the rules of reality.

KimPérez 03-29-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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There could be several ways to become transsexual. I am going to talk about one here, which would be double, trying to understand the strength of each of the two causes.

It would be about the people who are transsexuals as an expression of a cerebral intersex plus a paraphilia.

Cerebral intersex, the importance of “brain sex”, is something that usually explains many things to us and I would even say that it usually comforts us in our difficulties to accept ourselves. It must be said, instead it is something that tends to bother many of the theorists of homosexuality and many of the theorists of feminism (although not all or all), who follow the points of view of Foucault and the gender perspective , more political and cultural than biologists.

This may be one of the major differences between trans culture and gay and feminist culture. That is, trans people tend to be willingly biologists. Although here I go further than we like or not. I will deal with what it is or what it is not. From the truth or not. We are not going to renounce the explanations that we find for our lives for which other people prefer to give themselves, especially if it is possible to think that these may be due to fashions or political storms.

I have the impression that in many trans people there is a biological basis, an intersex brain, although it is not fully proven. The history of the few investigations that have still been carried out on this point is still full of affirmations and denials, that is, doubts, regarding the biological understanding of transsexuality. But the study is advancing little by little.

Thirteen years ago, in 1997, Zhou, Hofman, Gooren and Swaab did research on the BSTc, an important striae of the brain. The results supported the idea that six (deceased) transgender people had a BSTc more similar to that of women than to that of men. But there were only six people, an insufficient sample.

The news was so shocking to us, so key to our feelings, that in Catalonia it gave rise to the birth of “BSTc”, the first and very serious magazine on transsexuality in Spain.

Kruijver, Zhou, Pool, Hofman, Gooren and Swaab carried out in 1999 (published in 2000) a more detailed investigation about the number of BSTc neurons, on the same six brains of transsexuals, and it also turned out that it was the same which corresponded to women, in MaF, and to men in FaM.

In 2006, a study by Hulshoff, Cohen-Kettenis and others threw cold water on the former by stating that masses of transsexual brains are transformed in a feminizing or masculinizing sense by hormone treatment. But also that year, the curious study by Schneider, Pickel, and Stalla on the compared lengths of the ring and index fingers was published, as a possible echo of hormonal differences (if this were verified, mine would enter the male parameters, I think, so another jug ​​of cold water, at least for me)

But other studies support the similarity between transsexual brains and those of people of the target sex, such as those by Berglund, Lindström, Dhejne-Helmy and Savic, referring to the activation of the hypothalamus when faced with steroid odors, that of Krause , on brain activity models of trans women and biological women (also from 2006)

So far, the most significant is that of Harley et al., in 2008, who studied a gene related to the action of testosterone in 112 transfeminizing volunteers, and found differences with the same gene in males, which could explain a hypoandrogenic nature and even transsexuality. The researchers leave open the possibility that this minor action of testosterone has an effect on the formation of the person in the prenatal age.

(For those who want to delve into these studies, it is not difficult to find the list of those I have just given: it is on Wikipedia, in “Etiology of transsexualism”)

While other investigations are arriving, each one that recalls the experiences that make them think that their brain is more or less intersex. The list of mine, which I know by heart, and which can naturally be discussed, is: 1) my mother took estrogen before my pregnancy, could they have a depot effect?; 2) during my pregnancy she suffered war stress, which has been seen to be de-masculinizing; 3) in my childhood and adolescence I had great difficulties in adapting to my peers and in fact I did not adapt; 4) I lack and have lacked any impulse to penetrate; 5) male genitalia were not included in my “body image”, a psychological concept that seems important.

The upshot of all this, as I've said repeatedly here, is that XY people who may have cerebral intersex are not very masculine, or even not very masculine (I'm measuring my words carefully)

It is true that this alone does not make us transsexual. There are plenty of XY tomboys out there who are just tomboyish men, but manage well being male.

In our case, the passage through the door occurs when a question of identity is involved, an understanding of what I am and what I am not, of what I want to be and what I do not want to be.

The binary of our culture increases the hardness of this self-understanding when it only gives us two options, that of a man and that of a woman, sometimes forcing us to jump from one to the other, so drastically separated, without feeling right in one or the other, but without giving us the concept that one can be something in between.

All this is not without pain. But I take this opportunity to say in a hurry that this is nothing pathological. I can feel a lot of pain due to the loss or absence of a loved one, and this is not pathological. Life is painful. Living hurts, it's always been known. And happy, but it hurts. Our condition hurts us, while we do not see a solution.

And here can come the role of the paraphilias. A paraphilia is a sexual arousal from something that is not directly sexual or erotic, such as fetishism. There are many transsexual people who have had paraphilias, who have become aroused by imagining that we are changing sex. It turned me on and embarrassed me, because I could see clearly that it wasn't a feminine reaction. But there was an auxiliary engine of my transsexuality, as I will explain later, not the starting one, but the one that maintained the speed and even accelerated it.

Dr. Ray Blanchard has been there, talking about this, partly right and partly wrong, and calling it “autogynephilia” (autos: himself; giné: woman; philia: love; self-love as a woman) and Anne Lawrence, transsexual, having the courage to assume this definition for herself, which allows us to speak and not be silent about this subject that really embarrasses us, although without reason, but making the same mistake as Blanchard.

The same nail is the one hammered many years ago by Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, photo above, to title her book “I am my own woman”. She was also wrong, and also threw mud on her own feelings, not understanding them.

But the two mistakes of all these people are, first, in not understanding what a paraphilia is, an arousal for any cause that may seem strange, and second, in not realizing that more important than paraphilia is question of identity.

A paraphilia (this is my idea; and let a psychologist come and tell me no; I'll discuss it) is a symbolic solution to a real problem. It is effective, it causes great pleasure, because it is a solution; and it is repetitive, you have to repeat this thought over and over again, because it is only symbolic, it is not a real solution.

Symbols appear as a way to solve the anguish that is emerging; In my case, when I was eight years old, I invented a whole masochistic fantasy alone, in circumstances in which the fear of a partner dominated me. That is a paraphilia, a symbolic solution (the pleasure of being dominated), compensating for a real problem (a terrifying fear), still without arousal, but the arousal could have come with puberty. Fortunately, when I tried to implement the solution, it was very frustrating and I forgot about it.

Five years later, at the age of thirteen, already at puberty, the idea of ​​changing sex (from male to female, binary) was immediately accompanied by that excitement that embarrassed me to the bottom of my heart. It was a paraphilia, a symbolic solution to a real problem.

The mistake of Blanchard and Lawrence is that they put paraphilia, autogynephilia, as the cause of transsexuality. It is not the cause, it is not the motor, although it is very strong as an auxiliary motor, it is an effect of a previous, real problem that is there, with paraphilia or without paraphilia.

It's an identity problem. It is, for cerebral intersex people, not being able to understand each other within a binary system. It is the terrible anguish of saying: “But who am I?”, and not being able to answer, understanding oneself as a kind of angel in the blackness of the void.

The proof of this, that I have lived, is that when you manage to reach the real solution of the real problem, the paraphilia volatilizes and you already live well and without excitement, which is a secret gift of life.

The real solution may be to live as trans, or perhaps have surgery, if you have a “body image” problem. It may be not following the gender binary, stop lurching from one side of the court to the other. For a cerebral intersex person, it may be accepting that they are intersex.

KimPérez 03-22-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Theprogress indicates that the future DSM-V, which will be completed by 2013, will continue to include transsexuality under the name of “Gender Incongruity”.

The reason given is that this expression alludes to the "inconsistency" between the identity that is felt or expressed and what others expect from the person who lives it.

Let's examine this expression.

First. Incongruity.

In principle, something that is interesting is understood and that has already been recognized by other commentators, such as a friend, in personal messages, or GenderKid, an Argentine transgender who considers himself queer: there is no longer talk of inconsistency between me and myself, but of an inconsistency between myself and society. What I feel or express (also an interesting nuance in the difference) and what others expect of me. This transfers the debate from the psychological to the social: it is a fight between me and society, often very justified, and not only in the case of transsexuality, and which expresses the greatness of the human individual, not subject to the rules. social but to their conscience (immortal theme of the "Antigone", by Sophocles)

But there is a possible pitfall to overcome. If this is so, why is this incongruity, which is actually admirable, even heroic, pathologized? Yes, it's true, for the person militant in defending their feelings, which we really are, the fight against the whole of society is often excessive, tiring, exhausting. We may sometimes need medical support, such as a boxer with a bloody face in the middle of her bout or a nearly frozen climber on his ascent to the Himalayas, but the climber's or the boxer's condition is not pathologized.

From the dynamics of the DSM-V draft, something similar can be deduced, but it is not the same, when it is said that, once the candidate person has been hormonalized and operated on, he stops suffering the alteration or medium disorder that we are talking about. This is similar, because since then we are considered normal. But it is not the same, because the question remains as to whether we were not before; which must be answered before proceeding; and if we are later, because now, although reluctantly, society can see a congruence between our physical and our mental. And if we don't want to have surgery, will we be incongruous all our lives? Could it be that deep down they are thinking that it is society that is right, that it is their criteria of masculinity and femininity (two) that should prevail in the end? More directly: how does this mental construction of what is pathological and what is not pathological fit with the fresh and clean reality that we are discovering of gender non-binarism?

Therefore, the idea of ​​inconsistency between me and the entire society is valid; It is worth that you may need and appreciate medical and psychological support in such an unequal and disproportionate combat; but it is not worth considering that this incongruity is pathological. That is why the term is not acceptable, because by itself, "incongruity", "incoherence", expresses something that is not right, that is not logical, and it is likely that many people blame that lack of logic before the isolated person who suffers from it than to the society that imposes it, without taking into account that this person speaks of what he knows about himself, while society speaks of abstract principles. Much more appropriate would be to speak of "resistance", for example, or "insubordination", and understand that psychological or medical attention can be justified by bruises or injuries, sometimes quite physical, often fatal, in many societies, which are may receive in the course of this fight.

That word, on the other hand, is not correct, it is almost offensive (“incongruous”, “incoherent”), and when a word is not correct, by letting it loose in the world, it can lead to unintended consequences. Simply speaking of the inconsistency between our will and that of society, as if it were neutral, and not of resistance or insubordination, much more positive expressions for us, can lead non-specialists to at least continue thinking about something different, that the DSM-V does not want to say, but that it could emerge in the general opinion, with traces of condescension: that it is about the incongruity that was previously supposed between my mind and my body, a woman's mind (period) in a body of man (and period), which corresponded to the old, well-intentioned, but inaccurate phrase of “anima mulieris in corpore virile inclusa”, or locked up.

I say in particular that my body is not that of a man. If my brain, as I imagine, is ambiguous, my body is not human, because a fundamental part of it, the brain, is not. And the hypothesis of a cerebral intersexuality would ruin any idea of ​​inconsistency in my person. If it is a body that is partly female, or ambiguous, in part of the brain, for example, the one that expresses itself like this, there would be no incongruity, but maximum congruence, maximum coherence, fine adjustment.

Second. Of genre.

The second part of the expression “gender incongruity”, “gender”, is even more problematic. Are we talking about gender or sex? The desire for change is sometimes related to gender, referring to the cultural or social dimension of sex, but other times it is related to sex, properly referring to biological functions.

We know that psychiatrists and psychologists are required above all to inform endocrinologists and surgeons about sex change requests, due to the medical relevance of these processes; gender changes are generally made with much greater freedom compared to professional requirements. So why talk about gender here?

On the other hand, it is true that the DSM-V, unlike the IV, is going to recognize the non-binarism of gender, it is going to finally leave behind the criteria of masculinity-femininity (two) that have humiliated us especially in "real life tests". But I want to recall here that our recent analyzes show that gender, obligatory, is an expression of a previous gender code, with penal dimensions, which historically responds to a desire for domination (as present in the puritanical dogmatism of Anglo-Saxon codes as in the Napoleon code, so influential in Latinos)

When the gender code is abolished, which will necessarily be soon, the remaining legal prescriptions of it will likewise be abolished. Many jurists, even conservatives, see that in Spain, in particular, the mention of sex in civil status will disappear, since sex is a condition that, among us, has lost all legal relevance since homosexual marriage was approved (the preserved in the laws referring to abuse, but in them should in the future be understood as alluding to femininity in fact, not to a legal femininity defined by anatomy at first sight)

Subsidiary legal facts will also disappear, such as the obligation that the name "does not lead to confusion towards sex", or the binary and principled affiliation of people to hospital or penitentiary institutions.

In that social context, in which legal sex (obligatory gender) will have disappeared, gender behaviors will be naturally free, and there will be no previous and generalized expectations about a person's behavior based on what we can observe at naked eye of its apparent anatomy. There will be no so-called "gender incongruity", because there will be no gender (mandatory, very definite)

However, there will be no scattering or confusion. People tend to group together by affinities. There will continue to be a majority of masculine men, another majority of feminine women, but both will be diffuse groups, they will include trans / transsexuals and intersex who prefer masculine or feminine lives; there will also be large minorities (currently in Tokyo almost 10%) of people who will prefer an ambiguous, or intersex, or extrasexual way of life. None of it will be prescribed, none of it will give rise to "inconsistencies", and with the speed of things, the DSM-V has a chance of being out of date before it comes out.

We are not "gender incongruent", never have been, never will be. We are resistant to the gender code, we are faithful to our own way of being in the face of social pressures.

We affirm our autonomy. We are gender independent.

KimPérez 03-15-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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HANDS OF DSM-V.

A draft of the future DSM-V has just been released, which is expected to be ready in its final version in 2013. Bearing in mind that, today, there are psychologists who rule over people transsexuals, that we have given them sovereignty over our persons and our destinies, that they are the judges who say yes or no about our lives, that they govern the units of what they call “gender identity disorders”, that use the DSM as their reference, well deserves that we dedicate a detailed reflection to it.

The DSM is the guide to mental illnesses, or disorders, or disorders, or syndromes (they change their names as they are studied, which is fine) prepared every certain number of years by the psychiatrists gathered at the American Psychiatric Association (which is not American, but American) It has a moral value, especially in a society where medicine and psychology are almost one hundred percent private and are threatened by constant legal claims, because it provides diagnostic and treatment protocols that can be brought before a court. In general, it is true that it is highly elaborated, by professionals who belong to the most scientifically developed society of our time, and which brings together more than three hundred million people, and it is also true that it manifests biases and prejudices (the most difficult to detect by the authors themselves), which can be detected more easily by outsiders.

However, it is astonishing that in the rest of the nations, it has in fact been accepted as a kind of professional bible, giving up its own criteria and its own critical capacity, and granting extra credibility to a document not even international, but rather confined to the United States, with which they surrender with their eyes closed and fall, of their own free will, into the orbit of an enormous power that has its own schools and its human semi-sciences, always empirical and of a debatable nature.

Specifically, this DSM-V is heralded as an example of expansive pathologization. More and more behaviors are pathologized, which is very good for the American pharmaceutical industry, which will be able to multiply the number of its users and its sales, as many have observed with concern.

But we also have the right to feel preventively alert to the exaggerations of prevention theories, which can lead to the pathologization of healthy people, who are kept in good health by their own sense of reality and balance. . In the United States, since 9/11, prevention has become obsessive. Anyone can be seen as a "potential terrorist", no matter how far from being one, just by applying certain, bureaucratic and exaggerated criteria. Guantánamo is the name of this figure, in which they have renounced even their democratic faith in an independent justice.

In the DSM-V there are astonishing examples of pathologization of potential behaviors, as in the so-called “psychosis risk syndrome”, whose name alone indicates that there is no psychosis, but rather a supposed possibility, whose criteria could be expanded without limits .

But not only of that, but of any behavior that they decide to define as normal and abnormal, as they do resoundingly, in this DSM-V project, when trying to regulate the penalty for the death of a loved one , fixing the attitudes of greatest anguish in two weeks, so if they exceed that bureaucratic deadline they become a disorder!

It is easy to imagine that any person, graced by several of these disorders, could be classified in registers over which they have no control, as “emotionally unstable”. It is also easy to fear that she will lose self-confidence, seeing herself "in need" of being in the hands of psychologists, and that she will become more docile and submissive, even thanks to relaxing and tranquilizing drugs. It is less easy, but not unimaginable, that these records end up in the hands of governments that classify them according to the criteria of "socially unstable", with everything they want to assume and prevent below. “A happy world”, “1984”, are not on the horizon, but already present, and they try to shape our lives.

In general, every human being, in many of the painful, difficult or terrible events of his life, fights by himself to maintain or recover his balance; for that he is an autonomous, mature and free being. And also it must be, this is how their autonomy, their maturity, their freedom, their responsibility are forged.

In this general picture, the interference of psychologists is a true intrusion, because it means that we will not be able to fend for ourselves. That infantilizes us by offering us their unsolicited guardianship, that makes us dependent on them.

I see that when I see them storming into major catastrophes to indiscriminately “provide psychological help,” to offer generalities to people whose histories they don't know, as if to guide them (because they assume they won't know how to guide themselves) in those terrible moments. I would yell at them: “Leave me alone or I will report you! Respect that everyone puts before their eyes their fear, their loneliness or their company, their courage or their cowardice, their generosity or their selfishness, their reasons for their balance or for their rebalancing! Do not interfere with their pious but ideological generalities! Give help only to those who ask for it, in cases of hysteria, for example! You are not my conscience!”

Any free person knows how to distinguish when he can fix himself in the most difficult problems and when he needs professional help; And when she asks for it, it's not that she's upset by definition, but that she needs an external point of view, someone to help her see things more clearly, which can make her look for a psychologist, like someone looking for a friend. specially prepared.

But the DSM-V illustrates the arrogance of many psychiatrists and psychologists who try to get into our minds to nickel and tune them as if we were cars in a workshop, forgetting the values ​​of human freedom, as it already illustrated, ago many years ago, the crucial and highly illustrated film “A Clockwork Orange”, which attacked, in the name of inner freedom even to do evil, against mechanistic behaviorism.

In the midst of this general panorama, we find that transsexuality has been around for a long time and continues to be among mental disorders, or whatever you want to call them now. We have accepted this situation, until recently, bought by the dish of lentils that this legitimized our hormones and operations, without realizing that in this way we were getting into the hands of psychologists and psychiatrists who, from that moment on, would make us what they wanted.

They have. They have had the supreme power over us, adult, mature and free people, to make fundamental decisions about our lives. They have decided if we could have surgery or not. They or many of them have judged us with binary criteria of masculinity-femininity that are completely obsolete today. They have decided "real life tests" that could sometimes compromise our family or work life, realistic deadlines, in any case, that we could see and they could not. They have sometimes made us wait up to seven years to give us their verdict. This is what happens or what can happen when we put our lives in the hands of another person.

They have made some or many transgender people lie, to tell them what they wanted to hear.

And all this has been done with the endorsement of the DSM-IV, the bible of psychiatrists and psychologists.

This is what happens when he puts in place a diagnostic and clearance regime. I will remember that transsexual people now claim a regime of autonomy: we are adults, mature, free; we will make, like all other people, our decisions. If someone manifests a problem in their decision-making capacity, they will have to correct it first, and then they will go to the general regime. In this, it can be accepted that we must go through a period of information, a dialogue with a psychologist, but it must be clear that the final decision will be ours.

It is true that DSM V sweetens and nuances the concepts of DSM IV, but it continues to claim to authorize our lives. Do not be fooled, transsexuals who now depend on the benevolence of the -well-intentioned- psychologists of the gender units. The masters become civilized, which allows the slaves to suffer less, but some continue to be masters and others slaves in an aspect as fundamental to the lives of trans people as decisions about their own gender and their own sex.

I'm sorry for saying it like that, but to be grateful for the relative advances that the current system leaves us is to be grateful for what others leave us. We will be at any time in your hands. And these sentences are usually unappealable in fact. I allow myself to warn my colleagues so that they do not fall into what I myself have fallen into, mistakes that I regret: whoever smiles after obtaining the gender dysphoria certificate, whoever wields it with the pride of a diploma, Let him know that he did not need certificates or diplomas to be who he is.

She is thanking those who have been unduly her masters for a while for being benevolent. He will be happy, happy or happy, but his happiness is that of someone who has escaped from a jail that was closed behind his back unfairly. May he never justify jail, for having escaped from it!

When you are in the hands and under an indisputable authority of others, no matter how benevolent it may seem at first, you are exposed to decisions and interpretations that are not your own, but those of others, and that can become very far from what was supposed.

Currently, we are trans people, and trans people from the Spanish State, who are carrying out the fight for trans depathologization worldwide. The Trans Depathologization Network has raised trans groups in fourteen cities around the world in its first action. Naturally, our liberation from any pathologizing claim goes directly against the validity and submission to DSM V. And now we can understand that this fight is not particular, but rather forms part of a much more general one, that of freedom from pathologizing claims. of certain psychiatrists and psychologists, in which we can find numerous and unexpected allies.

In these alliances may appear liberals and libertarians alarmed by the authoritarian drifts of the DSM, within the more general of American society; Psychologists and psychiatrists who do not want to take part in this denaturing of their professions can be included in particular; In fact, I ask you to get in touch with us, trans people, to be our friends just because you don't claim to be our judges and judges; they can figure, people affected by this expansive pathologization in the thousand ways that only they can understand.

In our own camp, and probably overwhelming within it in the future, vehemently calling for action, there are already some transsexual people from Latin America, much more sensitive than we are to the arrogance coming from the United States. They are still not affected by the meddling of psychologists in Social Security procedures, when it does not exist, but they will be affected by the desire for domination that is transparent in all these practices. And as always, transsexual people will be few, but we can be seen.

KimPérez 03-08-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Iget to watch a classic movie channel and see a movie in black and white. I put the technical sheet: 1949. I was eight years old. It is the bitter, grave, adult world of my childhood. Vienna was in ruins. People survived with poor clothes, with weak light bulbs. He went to desolate cafes.

Afterwards, they show trailers of the movies that depicted my life, almost more than my life as a transsexual. When in my teens I quietly trembled with enthusiasm, imagining that anything was possible. Shortly before learning that it would not be. When I started to feel that everything was beautiful, but impossible, like the nights of "A Streetcar Named Desire".

It seemed to me that love was open around any corner, but that I could never turn it. So many years, and so many, and the doors remained closed. Four decades, youth gone, maturity almost gone, my films unfulfilled, the nights imperturbably lonely.

But suddenly. The projection started.

In the movies I've lived through, this summer I had to go to a wedding and honor my friend's invitation. But I didn't want to spend a penny, out of anger, out of disappointment in life. She knew she had some passable clothes in a closet, a navy blue jacket, some matching skirt. Enough. The same day of the wedding, I went to open the closet, reluctant. Then a short-sleeved turquoise blue jacket appeared, entirely covered with a black tulle cobweb. Someone had given it to me a long time ago and I didn't remember and I would even say that I had never seen it in my life. very elegant I tried it on. perfect. A black skirt, with sparkles. Like jet. My high-heeled shoes, from 45, but so thin that they seem normal. I remembered that two years before I had put half soles on them, so they were like new. Fix me. I went to the wedding. My six feet five became an advantage. He knew he was stunning. I dazzled.

My friend welcomed me, glad I was more than up to it. Later, at the evening, friends of the groom, seeing me from afar, calling their attention, asked him if I was "the bride's grandmother", the highest medal I could receive. Later, on the wedding bus, back, with my forehead resting on the cold glass, against the night, I thought about the elusive history that I had lived. I didn't even have photos left to share.

Now, in February, at another wedding I wondered what to wear. I have recounted so many things here that I thought about putting on my navy blue jacket again, my black pants, my hundred-euro shoes. Ambiguous. All of this is my revenge against life, the weapon with which I strike it with the sword. Later, my dreams came, dreams of sleeping, in the cinema with the white sheets, and I saw my movies.

I thought I could do the same arrangement as for the wedding in July. Short sleeve. They gave me chills, just imagining it. But I decided. And I would finally have my photographs!

In the morning, I went to the hair salon and had my gray hair curled happily. In the afternoon, right after lunch, sunny, the turquoise and tulle jacket, the jet black skirt, a little quartz necklace that in July I realized I had been missing, cheerful tan stockings, my fine 45 shoes.

Unlike in July, I wore very light makeup and very soft lipstick, which made my features hazy.

Tall, smiling. And suddenly I remembered. To keep warm, instead of my discreet gray wool coat, my mother's (artificial) fur coat. I asked permission and he gave it to me.

Upon arriving at the church, just about to, without meaning to, I had to enter naturally through the empty carpet, when all faces were already turned towards the door to see the bride enter.

I walked in confident and triumphant, neither conceited nor humble. I did not hesitate. My steps did not tremble. I was in fact the announcer that the ceremony began, elegant, with my fur coat.

I almost reached the presbytery, at a very central point, I mixed with those who waited and watched, I turned to see myself, and at that moment the bride entered, absorbing the glances and memories.

Later, my nieces made room for me, for which I thanked them, next to my sister, and there I watched the ceremony, not very focused, not even on me.

When we finished, we went to the Palace, the hotel in Granada that matches the great establishments of the late 19th or early 20th centuries, such as the Lido of “Death in Venice”, or the Ritz, or the Savoy.

I knew how elegant she was, a fragile old woman, unsteady when she walked, but with a firm smile, among bluish tones, whom she saw in the large mirrors as she passed, although at the same time she knew that she had just thought about the demolition of the gender.

All of that gave me a lot of security. We finally had dinner in a room that was a transcript of the splendor of the 19th century. Tall lamps, which gave a light without mysteries, walls tiled with Arab plasterwork, interspersed with large lusters or wall mirrors, in which I could look at myself if they were at the height of the tables. Even among the diners, I saw a young gentleman, somewhat stocky, with very black hair and beard, dressed in a black jacket, very romantic, who seemed to have come among us from a hundred years before.

The waiters and waitresses formed a perfect ballet around us, and every time someone came over to fill my glass or serve my plate, he kept saying “Ma'am?”

At twelve I had to retire, like Cinderella. I was surprised by the transience of the entire afternoon and night, the few seconds that each of the significant moments had lasted.

I left the hotel alone, I walked for a moment towards the taxis that waited with their green light, seeing my shadow projected on the ground, the water and the leaves of the Alhambra hill. The taxi first signaled me with its headlights, lowered to my height, and took me, along a road next to a ditch and some cármenes, to my house.

I felt that despite the beauty of everything that had happened to me, I had continued to be alone. There is no place for love in my life. It also hurt how fleeting everything had been. As beautiful as she had been, and nothing had collected those beauties beyond the seconds that a look could last, almost none, nor her thoughts, I would never find out.

I consoled myself a little by thinking that this is common sadness. Neither the splendor of youth, nor its true passions, last, even if they last a few years, more certainly than a few hours, or perhaps a few seconds, as in the case of my old age.

But all that lasts in memory. Or in tears, on the pillow, at night. And in desire. And in music, novels, movies that make you cry. And that's why I write it today, my story, and I keep it to be read, because he is also beautiful.

KimPérez 03-01-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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You're going to let me return to the same questions once more, because after all, I know that I am or that we are a kind of living laboratory of sexual identity, and it is important what we are discovering every moment. I don't mind contradicting myself on this. I am like scientists and I am looking for the truth wherever it is, and if it is necessary to abandon a whole line of investigation, it is abandoned.

I say this because suddenly, all my hypotheses about the formation of identity seem superficial to me. It is superficial to talk about psychological stories from schools or relationships with parents or with an older sister or with an aunt, which is what I have done all my life. Maybe there is something more fundamental, more basic, more hidden.

There must be some elements of identity, the b with the a equal to ba, different from the periphery, the makeup, the skirts, the aspects, etc., and I am going to explain what I have found in recent nights, because it is at night when the conscience, with all the routines and its conventions, relaxes, and deeper feelings appear.

Like the sensation of seeing you, operated on, seeing your body, I mean, very passive, seeing a clear body that seems to sink into clarity, resting, and that's beautiful. Passivity, absolute, tranquility, the belly turned into an empty vertex, softness.

This passivity is not exactly the sexual passivity of the couple, it is prior. It is that you do not propose anything more than to let yourself go, as if that light of a clear morning that falls on your body and illuminates its surroundings was enough for you.

I suppose this feeling is at the base, but it's much more subtle, than the one I ever had in bed with a man, when, not feeling physically attracted to him, I just decided to stay put and let him do what he wanted.

A few nights ago I had a feeling that insisted on the same thing. In this case, my body appeared to me more or less as it is, also in a light environment, a whitish and yellowish body, and I saw my breasts, which were small and sagging, a little flaccid, and my belly, which was not I was fixed a lot, just like a small shadow, a place of emptiness. I would wake up a little more and I liked that image, I made it my own, easily, because it is true that now my body is more or less like that, although my breasts, which are really small, do not have that shape of fallen cans, but they are domed and very separated from each other, undesirable, it seems to me.

All of this is prior to and deeper than any definition of femininity that consists of a taste for dressing up, and for giving an image of a woman in the mirror, and for seducing, etc. It is the mere consideration of the body, the observation of how my body is, in itself, without more, without age. Now it is an old body, almost seventy years old, but it is as if it were a girl's body, I don't care, I don't consider its beauty or its attractiveness, but simply the feeling that it gives me, pleasant, soft, collected, fearful , quiet, quiet.

This morning I took another step, in these sensations. It's just that yesterday I saw a report about a marsupial animal from Australia, in which you could see a kind of cave made of meat and fine skin on its body, in which two ugly embryonic pups rested, like mice or newborn sparrows, with the Raised eyes still covered by membranes.

These images made me think of my own body as guarding a cave where other embryos could nest. The feeling was not that it fascinated me, that it seemed terrifying or wonderful, but that it simply seemed compatible with the above, acceptable. I'm not saying pleasant, I'm saying acceptable, which has to do with that natural passivity, with the fact that this cave truly exists in it, although the truth is much uglier, because we already know that it's a shallow hole with walls covered in hair, by the origin of that skin, in short, nothing to dream, nothing to wish for. But it seems more natural to me to imagine myself with that fertile cave in my body, than to imagine that I could have a man's body, which penetrates and launches a stream of fertility in a moment, without understanding or understanding it. The one who does not understand that game, nor the mental mechanisms that may be in it, is me.

And from there, through other images that had to do with the delimitation of a territory, of a small semicircular estate on a hillside, and that of a man reciting trovos leaning on one foot on a staircase I happened to think of a girl I know who was a student years ago, as if she was now in her thirties and married.

Sitting next to me, she was showing me a kind of knitted bra vest, with big knots of blue wool that she was going to wear. It was certainly the least sexy garment in the world, homemade and routine. She told me that, since her breasts had grown a lot lately, she had to be careful, because they could even give her asthma, due to the pressure on her throat (well, a nonsense from my dream) It was the desexualized image that women have of her own body, bored, annoyed, so different from the masculine, when the eyes are impregnated with androgens, that see all that shine with the light of fascination. I have to declare that this dazed vision is mine, although I also dislike it when I see or imagine the very large, whitish and mushy breasts of calves and occasionally enormous and ugly dark and grainy nipples.

In this, the girl, my friend, wanted to try on the knitted vest bra over my clothes, in what I interpreted as the secret pleasure of many women in feminizing transsexuals, which is seen in their helpfulness when offering to accompany us Shopping. I was also annoyed in the dream, noticing a slight arousal, as expected, albeit minor. Yes, I have something like breasts, although they will never grow to the point that they plug my throat and give me asthma. On the other hand, it is natural that what happens to me happens to me, the annoying excitement and all that, because after all my eyes have been impregnated with androgens, now that they are no longer, and they are gradually washing away Of them, I see the things that are most similar to how I want to see them.

But I have decided to write all this today, because deep down, the one and the other seem compatible to me. These stories about the breasts, even if they are more superficial, represent that deep down I can find myself as if I were on my own land among women whose vital perspective is fertile caves inside and breasts that can overwhelm them. In that space, I, who am so passive, can find myself as in my natural world.

It's not that I like it, it's not that I want it, it's just that it's my thing more naturally than the world of men, made of branches or sharp sticks that I don't quite understand.

This is the question that remains for me to solve. Women are fascinated by these beings. They don't say anything to me at first, for me it would be the same if they went as far away as possible, to another planet, I don't want to physically merge with them, I do want their friendship, having them close as souls that can move me and that especially make me cry when I read gay novels, because their beginnings, their childhoods, their adolescences, are sometimes so similar to mine.

This is what I see in the Dream World. The Australians, the aborigines, base their religion on the difference between the Dream World and the Waking World, because they know that the former is truer than the latter. Also Father Abraham and the Prophets of Israel saw everything in visions and dreams. I'm going to see if I don't forget this and I keep looking at what I see in that World, to which we have access every night, to see if I understand myself.

And yet, I also have to return to the Waking World afterwards, to see everything clearly. And I see that pure passivity scares me, because it can be submission to another, to the asset. I know that I have been a coward at many times, because I did not find the strength to affirm myself, to challenge.

I was particularly scared when I was eight years old, when for the first time I was scared by a classmate who threatened me, and I spent two weeks in fear, without feeling anything resembling rebellion or defiance in myself. It has happened to me many more times.

It overwhelms me to think that if I had been born a woman, in other times, having this mentality, and they had married me by force, and my husband liked the more traditional position, almost drowning me with his weight, I would have cried afternoons and nights, but I would have been unable to run away from my home.

This is bad passivity, the one I have to overcome in myself by affirming myself at any cost. Curiously, the only time I did it was when I decided to make my transsexual transition, as I said to myself then, “even if the world falls apart”.

KimPérez 02-22-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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I am going to apply the microscope to some memories to better understand the origin of transsexuality or, at least, that of my transsexuality; but I publish it with the hope that it will be useful, I am not saying that for all of them, but for other transsexual people.

The first two moments in which I felt my disagreement with the gender of origin were the following:

When I was about eight or nine years old, I realized the difference between my school, which was for boys, and the one right next door, which was for girls. At that time, schools were either for boys or for girls. Mine seemed rough to me, I don't know why I always remember it with large walls only whitewashed, with some places, the latrines, which smelled of retested urine, and some kitchens with a terrible smell, barracks, past which it was necessary to pass to get out through a small door to the open air of the sports field.

The girls' room, on the other hand, was tidy and charming. The wall itself had a neat appearance, and the construction was of exposed brick, with a large palm tree at the entrance. Inside there were large parquet and waxed galleries and a neat chapel, next to which the sacristy was a prodigy of order, always with some little flowers on the little altar of "Mother", a painting of the Virgin. The nuns were very restrained and polite and the students, naturally, too.

What I remember from that moment in me was the nostalgia for not being a girl and being able to live in that civilized environment and the desperation for being a boy and having to live in the harshness of my school. I have already said a couple of the keys to my feelings, but I will explain them later.

Then nothing remarkable happened for several years, except my sadness and my total loneliness while they passed, which makes me very sad when I think that my nine, my ten, my eleven and my twelve years were like that, and that neither I knew how to explain myself, nor could anyone understand me, a condition common to childhood, which can be shared by many creatures at this very moment.

The second event, which spanned a couple of years, was my equally desperate rebellion, which occurred when I reached puberty, around the age of thirteen.

My classmates, a year older than me, were already in it, therefore, from a year before. Until then they had seemed distant to me, different from me, also harsh as men, even if they were children. The hormonal imbalances, the torrents of testosterone, the hot nights of spring and summer, made them hooligans, "obsexed", thus enjoying swearing, although within an order, because in reality they were well educated, having something gang members, aggressive, cocky, hostile to men who were not from their gang. The model of some of her was Marlon Brando, his struts, his nights and his conquests. I saw them all together, forcibly locked up among their peers, lonely among themselves, uncomfortable among men, also forcibly removed from the girls they desired, whom they could approach only with great effort, and it was like if I saw them defined by their sex, their genitals, I mean. I understood then the obviousness that the accumulations of people of the same sex are divided, although it is not said, although it is not thought, by the genitals, with which these are the most visible even though they are invisible. A group of men or women devoted to mysticism, monks or nuns, is presided over by the question: "What shape are your genitals?"

I didn't want anyone to classify me by my genitals, or assume that I was a certain way just because my genitals were a certain way. The consequence was to hate my genitals. This was my rebellion. I didn't want them. They were ugly, ridiculous, strange, alien. They were not my life.

Now comes the microscope to understand these facts from the perspective that can be had now, when the collective reflection on sex and gender has advanced decisive steps.

First, let's look at the subject of these stories, me who lived and felt them. At first, he was a delicate, sensitive, sensitive, passive, studious child, who lived in books. I didn't feel like a girl, I didn't try to dress as a girl, or paint myself, as other transsexual people remember their lives. I knew the profound differences that could exist between me and the girls since I was five or six years old when I saw a girls' comic, full of little women with long curly hair, and I understood that this was another world that did not interest me at all.

What I wanted was to live among the girls, to be in the girls' school, where I understood that my qualities of delicacy, sensitivity, etc., had their natural place. What I was was both different from most boys and more like most girls, without being a girl. What hurt me was a gender code that radically separated boys from girls, which formed the planet of boys and the planet of girls, attending only to the shape of the genitals.

This of course I couldn't understand then. What he could understand was that he was not comfortable at the children's school, among the children. Physically, between the two schools there was only an alley and two long walls that separated them. As in a book from my childhood, in which brother and sister, in two equally separated schools, called from beyond the walls: "Hermanitooo...!" “Sisseeeee…!”

What I saw, the objective, was the genre code in its purest, simplistic, blunt state. "Some to one side, others to the other." The gender code had entered my very head, it was what there was, what everyone said (except the sissies, humiliated, stoned, hidden, cast aside in the most total marginalization) and therefore, a kind of subterranean reasoning It led to the fact that if I couldn't be a man, I had to be a woman. I had reached puberty and, in fact, the image of the woman appeared hallucinating before me. The first, the strongest, a description, in an American novel, of a pregnant woman's belly that grew like the moon. The images of the “Elle” models, only in their underwear, on glossy paper, on my lonely nights. The images of Esther Williams, swimming in the technicolor pool, a luminous blue, that I saw on my first agonizing escapades from class. The difference that could exist between me and a straight boy was only that I also wanted to be like them, to free myself from being what I was.

I envied them for being so beautiful, for being able to be loved and to fascinate men. “I am a woman and I don't understand women,” a straight woman once told me. I understand. But at the same time I don't want them physically like straight men want them. I would like to see my dull skin transform into your luminous skin, my entire body, melancholic, insecure, acquiring its beauty, its grace, its attractiveness, its security.

But it's all brain broth. Fantasy mixed with reality to the point of imposing itself on it. Some people go crazy with these stories (see "The silence of the lambs" and the skinner of women to dress in their skins) But reality, tender and strong, superior to fantasy, always returns.

The gender code is also fantasy, because it does not correspond to reality. It is the consequence of what some people have thought and decided about gender, “total separation! men aside; women to the other!”, completely different from the reality of life; the gender code as we know it has to be abolished.

I will say that I also envied the sissies, for being freer than me. Generally poor, poverty was their freedom to work as servants, to paint themselves, at the cost of being insulted or accepted only as the funny ones or buffoons of the neighborhood. She also dreamed sometimes of literally being a sarasa, like some she had heard of, of not pretending to be respectable, but it was understood that they desired men; What was I going to do that I didn't want them?

What would my life have been like, if I hadn't been subject to a gender code, in a situation as fierce as the one I lived through, even more so than the current one? What will the life of children and adolescents be like when they are completely free of the gender code and its codified impositions?

Of course, the schools will be unified, as they already are, and there will still be no room for comparisons between schools for boys and schools for girls.

But the mental barriers that still remain between only two possibilities, “what is for boys and what is for girls” will not remain either. The boys still laugh and often stick to the walls of the corridors when they find out that one of them is homosexual. It still takes a lot of energy (I've seen it) to be homosexual, effeminate, and to be respected in class. If I had been born then, and had entered one of the institutes or colleges of the future, I would have found myself only with issues of majorities and various minorities.

Most boys would rather play soccer; but there would be a minority of women who would play among themselves, with them.

There would be no categories of men and women in the games; only objective results, classifications by results.

There would be some kids who would like rhythmic gymnastics; to others, just swim quietly, calmly, not competitively.

There would be, as there already are in American schools, clubs for literature, and styling, and martial arts, and cooking, and homosexuals, and transsexuals, and intersex, and strippers, and fans of certain music and philosophies of life, and religions, and each one would have the right to grow as they please, whatever it may be.

Many times following the style of urban tribes, in many of these clubs a style of arrangement would in fact be formed that would serve as a public affirmation, as a reminder and learning of their own evolution. Of course, joining those clubs or changing from one to another would be free.

I would have found my like-minded people in those clubs and I would have found in my classmates, men, women or intersex in many ways, the strength to be what I say I am, to walk safely through school. The gender code, the obligation to conduct coded gender, will have vanished by then and differences will be recognized as urban tribes are recognized today, not necessarily two, but much more than two.

Among them, surely in the majority, will be those of straight men and women, more or less as they are today, but diffuse, because they will incorporate trans men and trans women who want to live like straight men. Next to them, respected by them, will be the many minority tribes. The normal. The world of today, but aware, determined, validated for adults, taken to its ultimate consequences.

This social change, this abolition of the gender code, of gender impositions, will mean that many of us who define ourselves as ambiguous will find our place as ambiguous, and that perhaps we will not need hormones or operations, to to be able to affirm that we are not on one of the two sides of the binary fantasy. We can simply be as we are, dress as we want, in a personal way or according to the fashion of a tribe that we choose.

We come from where I come from; of a situation that for some people has been or is unbearable; and we are going towards a world of personal freedoms, in which nobody tells me how I have to be.

KimPérez 02-15-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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TRANS OLD AGE

A dear friend and colleague invites me to write about the old age of transsexuals.

I do it with great pleasure; Now that I'm getting into it, it's one of the basic worries and fears that occupy my thoughts the most.

And yet, it is a privilege. From what I know of our fellow Latin American transvestites, their environment, their society, some aspects of the culture that we leave them, often leads them to lose their lives in full youth.

The compañeras from Quito have the custom, every night, before going out into the street, to make a cross on the pavement; It's not so they don't get killed, it's so they don't fear death.

If we thought about them every morning, our fear of old age would disappear. It is true that, most of the time, old age still means a strong risk of decrepitude, that disease that is not old age itself, which numbs or stiffens bodies and dissolves minds, which can lead us to residences and defenselessness before any mistreatment of younger and impatient people. But that is not old age, but decrepitude, that disease that may or may not occur.

However, let's talk about old age, making this basic distinction between those of us who have fulfilled the right to have days and days, until reaching old age and those who do not see it fulfilled and are right now, anxiously living their youth, and wishing to continue living it, and reach maturity, and enjoy the beauty of life. Hopefully they get it!

First, that it is possible to reach extreme old age in good conditions. The other day I met a man who is ninety-three years old and with whom it is a pleasure to talk, with his memory intact and his body healthy. It will still be exceptional, I don't know, but it is possible to grow old this way.

Secondly, there are exemplary old age. In my youth, I met a German painter, Gabriela Bergmann, who had been a journalist and had started painting when she retired. He painted very well, with a lot of talent, some informal paintings that made one think of landscapes in twilight, with a particular technique.

He lived near Granada, in a small house with a garden in the small town of Huétor Vega, and had to move to a flat on Calle Granados, when he was over eighty years old. I visited him one day, to meet him, and I was amazed that, with his age, he had had the courage to furnish it and in a very youthful style.

Since then, I wanted to remember Gabriela every time I was afraid of old age.

He lived vigorously every day, regardless of the number of days he had left to live, and regardless of the conditions he was in.

This model of life consists of giving priority to the conscience, to the will, over the wrinkles of the body.

You do something you like or that you should do, while you can, while you have strength, even when your memory fades; while you can; May death or insanity find us working.

This is the importance of activism, which we trans have at our fingertips: do something for our colleagues, while trans life continues to be difficult; do it while we can, what we can.

At the end of the day, it is just applying the golden rule: “Do for others what you would like them to do for you”. Selfishness, which closes us in on ourselves, turns out to be a mistake, because it makes us close the doors of life to ourselves. It is not easy to always remember it, but it is necessary to remember it.

It is even possible to practice an activism on trans old age, which has some special properties.

The scariest, shared by many, many people (straight, gay, lesbian) is loneliness. We know very well that not even having children is a guarantee of company, but in the specific case of trans, when we have not married or have children, loneliness seems to be our safe destiny.

But perhaps our transsexuality has advantages, which it is possible to take advantage of. We have very important common elements. Similar experiences, marginalization, courage, many things. Is it not possible to form families that share housing, fights and affection from youth, as in Quito? Is it not possible to form friendships, with trans people or gay or lesbian people, as we can do anywhere in the world and, when the time comes, prudently, because living together is very difficult, try sharing expenses and housing?

I'm not talking about couples, which is the most complicated of the most complicated, I'm talking about families of friends, people who get along to the point of you in your room and me in mine or even of you in your house and me in mine! The loneliness, almost miraculously, dissolves.

At this point, what is necessary to plunge into illness, disability, dementia, abandon even friends, to be put in a geriatric hospital? Well, we'll dive in. The pain of human life is our faithful companion and it is often with a terrible character. One only has to watch a newscast, open a newspaper, to shudder with the very different possibilities of human suffering around us.

The spears fall everywhere, it's a rain of spears on the crowd, piercing here one person, there another. Why wouldn't it be up to us?

The only thing we can contribute is our attitude, Heads held high, while we can! Always resisting, while we have strength left! And if possible, taking a hand, giving it strength, receiving it, smiling at it! Plunging proudly, beautifully, into the dark!

KimPérez 02-08-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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In transsexuality, the concept of gender identity is central, and therefore we are deeply interested in how each one comes to form it.

The formation of this identity is called identification.

Now let's see how this identification works. I do not intend in this comment to make an exhaustive study, but I do intend to tell some stories that have deeply caught my attention.

In them, certain feelings about gender that are not sexual are seen to work strongly, they do not arouse a sexual desire (that craving, that need for contact) and yet they are decisive in the formation of people.

I'll start with the figures of very muscular men, with ultradeveloped biceps and triceps, supermodeled torsos, etcetera. They abound in the most famous children's comics: this was the Guerrero del Mask, Captain Thunder, Superman and as many as you want to find. If cartoonists painted them that way and they had to make a living selling the comic every week, it would be because they knew there was a demand, that is, that it interested their audience, made up mainly of children and adolescent boys, who in their vast majority would later become straight.

There's nothing sexual about it, and yet there's a definite feeling. Which is it? The identification one. You feel that you want to be like that, strong, confident and heroic. Many spent a few years drawing those same figures, almost obsessively. Is another drawn? No; I draw myself I draw what I want to be, how I want to see myself.

Later on, other feelings come to the forefront of attention, sexual ones, and these adolescents turn to people who are not themselves, to women. Freud says that some remain fixed in the previous stage (perhaps because they have experienced it with special intensity, I say) and develop as homosexuals. Could be.

It seems to me that this experience, which is that of the majority of men, is foreign to most trans women, who have not experienced it, nor do they feel it in any way.

For me, that figure is rather unpleasant; the super-muscled figures seem to give off the musky scent of testosterone and I just wish they would go away soon. The type of man that moves me is clearly hypoandrogenic, hypotestosteronic. But I'll come back to that later.

In the case of biowomen, my references are the dolls that interest most girls, with long, curly hair, exaggeratedly feminine and elegant. The interaction with them, instead of drawing them, consists rather in combing their hair again and again, long and reflectively, valuing the hair, as a symbol of attractiveness, as children value muscles, a symbol of all kinds of forces and not only of strength. physical. There is undoubtedly an identification there, symmetrical to that of children.

Later on, they usually experience another identification process that usually takes the appearance of falling in love with a teacher. What does the teenager see in her? I believe that it is the authority embodied in a woman, that if she is beautiful, then she is the best. It is independence and security that the adolescent identifies with, and the teacher then becomes a role model. Enough to think about her all the time.

How are the identifications of trans people? In some, completely similar to those of women or men, although their bodies seem to contradict them.

A friend of mine identified in her childhood with an older cousin than her, probably because she was pretty and older, that is, a model similar to that of the teachers.

This identification got to the point that when she transitioned, she took her cousin's name.

In her childhood, my friend always played with girls, whom she led with her strong character, and it was not only that she played with them, but also that she identified herself, so she hoped to make her First Communion with a dress like those of them, and threw a tantrum when she found out she wouldn't be allowed to.

(In these stories of early identification there is usually, upon reaching adolescence, a period of denial, due to the understanding of the difficulties that must be experienced. The person identified with women tries to learn to live as a man. She She did, and she went on to have a homosexual period, from which she was taken out by her pride when she realized that homosexuals were also hurt, and that her hope could be in counting on her beauty to definitively identify herself as a woman.

Other trans people have it harder. In their eagerness to deny transsexuality, they can become hypermasculized, go to gyms, grow beards or mustaches, get married – “I get married and it goes away” -, etc. Usually, they can't sustain that artificial intent, so they end up giving up that denial phase. Their appearance and background appear disconcerting at first glance, and they have difficulty – in their thirties, forties, or fifties or older – being recognized as transgender when their deep identity is fully feminine. This should be taken into account by gender units and ourselves)

As for trans masculine, sometimes three quarters of the same thing happens, nothing more than the other way around. A friend of mine identified himself with Tarzan in his childhood, and dreamed of rescuing Jane. It's the same thing that happens to most children: identifying with a muscular hero (preferably half-naked, so that the muscles show well) And he played with the children, the most violent games (soccer), where he was called by her last name by her peers, spontaneously avoiding any gender connotation, which indicated full acceptance. I lived like a teenager and felt the same as them.

It remains to consider the children and adolescents who, for whatever reason, have not had full identification.

They search their memory for these identifications with superheroes or superwomen and cannot find them. Neither with one nor with the other. Perhaps they found both the muscles and the curls unpleasant or ridiculous.

Neither soccer players whose stickers to collect nor teachers to study passionately.

I identified with the boy who starred in “Captains Intrepid” because he was like I was then, with wavy black hair and very large dark eyes, and because he was helpless, fallen into the sea, and because I protected him paternally Spencer Tracy, who sang to him

“Oh my little fish, don't cry anymore,

oh my little fish, stop crying”

and taught him how to be a cabin boy on the ship.

Nothing to do with the herculean identifications of my peers. The same thing happened to me with "Kim from India", from whom I took the name over the years (and because it was also Kim Novak's).

I also had something later, thanks to a novel, an identification with the English midshipmen, neat and elegantly dressed in white, who sailed the South Seas. I came to cry because of the impossible desire to have been with them, for whom discipline and integration into the Navy and that white neatness that brought them closer to angels were fundamental.

In my story, as surely in those of other people, what there is no identification with the most operative models of men or women. This lack of identification leads us to not recognize ourselves as archetypal men or as archetypal women, which in turn can lead us to a transsexuality that is not completely complete, but rather falls somewhere in the middle. Our transition is not to the other bank of the river, but to an island in the middle. Or perhaps a boat, which runs the entire river and reaches the sea.

KimPérez 02-01-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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The situation in Haiti can illustrate that of other people who also need rescue. They too are alive, albeit in a black hole. Some debris has also fallen on them, due to human errors that are sometimes as inevitable as natural events. But in this case, they do not shout, they do not call. They are there suffering a lot, but they are not detected. And his rescue is still humanly possible.

We are beginning to make a call for those who have had their request for medical treatment denied in a unit or by a professional, so that we can form a group of rescued men and women. In this case, in good faith of course, the weight of numerous errors is what has fallen on them.

Errors, also of course, that are not attributable to the units themselves but to the assumptions that Medicine and Psychology have followed up to now when approaching transsexual people.

Knowing the strength of the transsexual feeling, of the need for change, it is easy to imagine the anguish of those who, feeling it, may have seen themselves with a closed step to their way of being.

Even more, when having overcome a thousand fears and all the cultural repression that we have internalized for centuries, we have believed that we had reached a good port, in a friendly environment, and we find that it is precisely in him (and not in bad faith ) where a painful blow is dealt to our hope.

We do not know how many or how many transsexuals have been seen in this situation, we do not know how the denial of public service has been argued against them, we do not know what are the reasons that have been wrongly used, but in view of the criteria that They are used in some units, we fear that there are many who have suffered this ordeal and that it is not objectively justified, in any way, that the door has been closed to them.

How did that person who hoped to finally guide their life leave the unit or the professional's office?

How did it feel to go through the waiting room and see your colleagues with the feeling that you will never see them again, that you have been separated from them?

How did you get back to your home, to your darkness, to the closet you could find yourself in, after trying to get out and seeing other people deny you the right to do so?

How is your life going? Has she managed to carry on with the force of rebellion or has she felt down and not knowing what to do from that moment on?

Has any follow-up study been done on these people to reassess the refusal and its consequences? It may be, although it will have been difficult, because a rejected person does not gladly return to where he has suffered, so I am afraid, in fact, not.

The criteria that we seem to have detected in some units, through conversations with their users, are sometimes deeply erroneous and should be the subject of a no less thorough review.

I wonder if these criteria, variable of course according to the units, could have been the following:

=Exclusion due to mental illness. Have there been people who have been simply excluded when some psychopathological symptoms were detected? Has it been taken into account that in this case, the indicated criterion is to first resolve the mental illness and then attend to the demand of the candidate? Has secondary care been included in the protocol while the psychiatric care lasted? Has the logical and necessary follow-up been practiced in these life histories more than in others?

= Binary scheme of the sex-gender system, which only now, it is true, is beginning to be understood as the cultural cause of many prejudices. But have you thought that if you don't want to be a man, you have to be a woman, or vice versa? ? Has it been intended that the candidate fulfill some very defined models of masculinity or femininity? Have masculinity-femininity tests been used based on criteria from the fifties or sixties that are simply no longer valid today?

=Binary schema of sexual orientation. Have you been suspicious of people who in their assignment of origin showed an orientation towards the same desired gender? Has it been assumed or prevailed that, after the reassignment, the preferred relationships were those of men with women or women with men?

=The so-called real life test. Has this so-called test been believed to be decisive? Has it been assumed that the admissible real life should consist of an entry into the conventional life of a woman or a man? Has it been taken into account that the social transition is by far the most difficult step, much more than the hormonal or surgical transition, because it can have devastating consequences in the family or work? Has the right of each candidate to assess for themselves their practical options or the pace of their transition been respected? Have you insisted on putting this test at the beginning, when the person is not used to living according to the new gender and when they have not experienced hormonal changes that help with their image? Is not this attempt, when it is possible to do it reversibly, a possible help for self-assessment, but not the inalienable test that all candidates must pass?

=Aesthetic and ethical arguments. Have the candidates been valued for their appearance or for the femininity/masculinity of their gestures and, paternalistically, for their supposed possibilities of making social change? Has everyone's right to fight for themselves in life, even if it has to be with a thousand difficulties, been recognized?

In this regard, has it been thought that manners, gestures, phrases, interjections, can vary greatly from one social group to another, so that evaluating them as feminine or not from the references themselves can be a resounding mistake?

=Priority to theories on transsexuality, all still insufficiently elaborated, rather than to practice. Have considerations about "primary or secondary transsexuality" been followed, about "true transsexuality" (is there a false one? Or is it a different one?), without taking into account the profound changes, transformations and self-discoveries in many of transsexual evolutions, the theoretical and practical impact of gender binaryism?

=Attention to the proposals of the candidate. Have proposals such as sex change without gender change been taken into account, which may depend either on a personal (non-binary) need, or on objective and insurmountable difficulties in family or work fields? Or the partial sex change, limited to the elimination of the gonads, which can also respond to a non-binary adaptation or the simple realism of those who know what to expect and what not, and their costs in practice? life?

To constitute a large group of transsexual people rescued from these possible errors, or from others that we have not yet seen, is to go from impotence in solitude to companionship and strength, life and social effectiveness. In addition, it is to present to the entire society the varied picture of the transsexual reality, of true gender freedom.

It is not forming an association, we are not and we do not want to be. It is to form a group or a network, a contact, a list that frees from isolation and where initiatives can emerge in freedom, in trans solidarity.

That is why it is so important to set up this group, or this network, which is already working because some of our friends have committed ourselves to this issue. We know that hope can be reborn here and, above all, that everyone be recognized as they are, with the nuances of their transsexuality.

If you are involved in this issue, please visit the forums on this page to get in touch with people like you or who strongly feel the need for our rights to be respected.

KimPérez 01-24-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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We all know what gender dysphoria is; dysphoria, the opposite of euphoria; dysphoria = disgust, maladjustment, maladaptation.

You have been assigned to a gender and, as time goes by, you feel uncomfortable, out of tune, maladjusted within it. This is far from pathological (as if wearing too-tight shoes makes your feet hurt) is pathological, because it's probably the gender that's to blame, not you.

(We must be careful when using the word dysphoria, and insist that disgust is not synonymous with disease -we would be fine if everything we dislike was a disease-, because in Spain it is used legally in this sense, and there are assigned professionals to “diagnose it”)

But I use it, once depathologized, to refer to what I have already hinted at: many people do not have gender dysphoria, but gender dysphoria, gender disgust, gender weariness, gender rebellion and we are just beginning a rebellion.

We have known that we were unhappy in the assigned gender, which I will call the A; we have switched, with great difficulty, to genre B. And then, with great surprise, we have found that we did not fit into genre B either.

And so, we've bounced from genre B to A and then back again from A to B, and so on, how many times have I experienced that! We've felt frustrated, or scared, or guilty of letting ourselves go to and fro with no apparent way out. It may be that we have decided, for this reason, to forget about our feelings (me, for eighteen years, a prison sentence), to live without feelings, if possible.

Until, suddenly, we discovered that the fault was not ours, but the gender.

I'll explain. Gender is the cultural understanding of sex and, as cultural, it is variable.

Gender is not something solid, established by nature, consistent, that should be treated at least with respect, in attention to the "wisdom of nature". The genre depends a) on what we are knowing in each era, b) on what we are thinking or imagining in each era and c) even on what in each era it is convenient for the dominant power that we know and that we think or imagine.

To put it very clearly, gender is the first provision of the gender code.

This is a true code, in force in each society, customary or unwritten, but in force in customs, in part, and written in another of its parts. Regarding the force of customary law, remember that the British Constitution is. Nowhere are its principles written, but they are, everyone knows, they are fixed in customs, and they organize a modern country.

The Gender Code, we will therefore write it with capital letters, orders and punishes infractions; It is a penal code.

Determine how many genders there are, the content of each gender (for example, the appropriate clothing for each gender), and, above all, the penalties for violating gender norms, which can range from social ridicule to ostracism or marginalization of those who dare to violate it, and in other times, prison for re-education (two sisters, of whom I know one, suffered it) or, depending on the country, even the death penalty, by lynching (Brandon Teena, and many others). Latin American transvestites)

It's not a laughing matter, although the first penalty is public laughter, so unbearable for those who suffer it. The Gender Code is terrible. The Gender Code must be denounced and brought to light, precisely because it is invisible as a very real code.

The Gender Code of our society has inspired the Civil Code, which provides for only two assignments of sex, as male or as female. Whoever is born intersex, outside of the two schemes, has to be included, even if it is by force (operation on newborns) in one of them. They don't talk about it, they don't talk about them.

The Customary Gender Code codifies our gender mores down to the smallest detail. There are masculine and feminine ways of speaking; the effeminate and masculinized are criticized or mocked; there are ways of gesturing, of walking, of sitting, which cannot be skipped without being censored; there are ways to dress, needless to say.

Some of us suffer these impositions, because they do not fit our way of being. So it is said that we have gender dysphoria. But in reality, we have gender dysphoria, we suffer from the very existence of gender as an imposition, we suffer from the existence of the Gender Code.

With what has been said so far, the two problems that the Gender Code poses can be seen more clearly: first, that it is an imposition that nobody disputes; second, that it is binary.

The imposition thing deserves a strong reflection. Why is it imposed, who or who impose it? Briefly, for the moment, I will say that it is part of a generalized system of domination, which understands human relations as between lords and servants. Not even the famous patriarchy. The theory of Latin American postcoloniality says a lot in this sense (Dussell, Mignolo, Gómez-Castro) and it will be necessary to return to this over and over again.

The fact that it is binary is what most directly oppresses some people. Going back to the beginning, to seeing ourselves bouncing from A to B, and suffering through a tube as we feel dragged from one side to another by who knows what forces, this disappears as soon as we think that we don't have to be in any of those places, so heavily marked, or more so, that there are no sides.

There are no two sides, there are no two options. There may be groups of people by affinity. There may be a group of women, another of men, another of intersex who want to be intersex, another of trans who want to be trans... Moreover, these affinities are diffuse. It is not possible to say where the women end up, where the men end up, where the intersexes end up, where the trans... In the end, the last definition is subjective, it depends on where my likes are. When I talk about diffuse women, I include among them intersex and transgender people who recognize themselves as women, when I talk about diffuse men, I include among them intersex and transgender people who recognize themselves as men, when I talk about diffuse intersex or transgender people, I mean those of us we feel comfortable outside of any binary system.

Let everyone do what they like, in terms of cultural expression of their sexuality. Let everyone look for their like where they are, and not where they are imposed.

It's a course of action. We are discovering the need for everyone, and not just for intersex or trans, to fight against the binary system and, for that, to abolish the Gender Code and, through this, to abolish gender.

It is an immense cultural task, but it has already begun. There are thousands of people who recognize themselves in it, trans, intersex, women, men, all diffuse, free of gender, all defined in their own way, all human.

KimPérez 01-18-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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I call it divine, because this is my deepest religion, which does not prevent me from being a disaster as a religious, as happens to many people.

I converted to this religion when I was 19 years old, the summer I managed to spend a week in Torremolinos. One night I met a young (I hate to say girl) French girl, who was staying in the same boarding house as me and was called Michèlle and we went dancing. We danced the night away, going from night bar to night bar, by the sea, on outdoor dance floors. I wouldn't say she was pretty, but she was determined, which I needed. I noticed that he even had a bit of brown hair on his cheeks. At dawn, we returned to the pension, I remember perfectly the white light that made the plants in the garden appear black, and at the door, he kissed me. Deeply. I say that he kissed me, because, with my shyness, I would not have dared. I was stunned. It was the first time they kissed me. We said goodbye, and I went to my room. I looked at my face in the mirror, amazed.

When I woke up around noon, I immediately went to the beach to look for her, happy to have a love. I found her right away, sitting on the sand with a friend, and to my astonishment, she didn't want to talk to me.

I turned back, wracked with grief, and naturally decided to return to Granada. At eight in the evening, he was on a city bus, on his way to the intercity station, to return to Granada, humiliated and broken.

The exit from Torremolinos towards Málaga was a small hill next to a hilly spur, covered with eucalyptus trees. The setting sun shone from behind them, and between their trunks and leaves. At that moment I decided that love was going to be the meaning of my life. He imagined her full of love like the one he had felt, no matter how painful it had been. I think I realized that I was not particularly attracted to Michelle and that what I was in love with was love. I went back to my ordinary life, but I would cry all the time, even at the table, with my grandparents, and I was like that for a week.

I say that I have been badly religious, because what I had during one night, and that I thought would be a constant in my life, ran into my resistance or my inability to desire, in the full sense of the word, anyone Neither male nor female, and therefore my sex life has been pathetically short, difficult, and pitiful.

However, I have been able to feel love in other ways. When I began the transition that led me to the operation, in 1993, more than forty terrible years after what I have just recounted, I also spent several days in Madrid in the summer, sharing the room of a trans friend, whom I loved as a sister, in an immigrant pension and other alternatives in the Plaza de Santa Ana. At night, they would go out into the street, and I would stay in the room, illuminated by the light that came from the street through the open balcony. I wanted to give my life to the trans cause even though I was full of doubts about what I was doing. It was hot, I didn't fall asleep, there was a lot of noise coming from the people on the street, I was on top of my bed, looking at the old ceiling decorated with a frieze, and suddenly I understood: "I am in the heart of God", I said.

A little later, as if to ratify it, from the very foot of the balcony, three floors below, some boys began to sing a jota that I had only heard from my father's lips, all my life, from my father who had died fourteen years ago. years: "You have the face, manica, like malacatones..."

I've been bad religious about this, too. I wanted to give myself completely to the trans cause, that every minute of my life would be marked by my dedication, and I have achieved it, let's say, in twenty percent of my time and energy. Certainly not with the force with which I imagined. I left the very heart of God and stayed in the surroundings.

But I have understood the main thing. We call the meaning of our lives God. The meaning of my life is still love.

I find nothing greater in life than love, in all its forms. Everything I am going to say has a sexual and a spiritual meaning, and both do not interfere, but rather complement each other. One of the simplest is the love of love. Another is desire, which easily turns into trumpet solos at night. The greatest are love for human beings, which begins with admiration and culminates in donation, with the affectionate gift to the loved one, which makes you feel even more pleased to give, as a tribute, than to receive. You don't have to separate sex from love.

The love of God is only the first of these forms, the love of love (which is God). In it there is the danger that it separates us from human beings and the idea of ​​God becomes a rival of human beings, making us forget about them and their needs and possibilities, when it is in them and in ourselves where we should put our whole heart.

When we do it, what we feel in us can be called God, but in order not to get distracted, I prefer to call it directly love, living love, human love. That's why I say that love is divine.

Like all religions, it has its limitations. Wanting to love doesn't guarantee that you won't get tired, that you won't fail (like me), that you won't feel empty and frustrated, that you won't be afraid (the worst thing) that your life doesn't make sense.

The only thing I can tell myself is that if love is the meaning of my life, it will be, no matter what.

KimPérez 01-11-2010Comment on this news (indicate in the title)

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Note. I have no idea how an astronomical observatory currently works. But it could be something like this.

The Watch Officer of the Observatory Tower is reading some papers that I left forgotten on the table. They are a kind of letter addressed to a friend.

He is comfortable, sitting in the only black leather chair in the common office. His tight brown beard makes a classic match with the dark blue uniform he wears.

Above the observatory is the black, enormous, frigid night.

Lonely. In a hundred or two hundred kilometers around. The Observatory is on top of a mountain, among a sea of ​​mountains, covered in snow that can be five or ten meters deep, which is reached by a single marked track of fifty kilometers, which can only be traveled by jeeps in summer and polar vehicles in winter, like now.

He's alone, during our vacation. I left so quickly, wanting to go downstairs, that he forgot the letter after writing it.

He has started reading it as part of his work, to see what those pages were about, and he has continued, giving himself permission for once, and knowing why he gives it to him, seeing that they were mine.

The papers state the following:

“You say you want to be normal, and this word sticks in my head and heart and goes round and round.

You say that conservatives see three kinds of people, men, women and weirdos, and that you're conservative, because you don't want to be weird, you want to be normal.

I feel there is pain in this sentence, because you are trans, and you want to be normal.

I heartily understand. Wanting to be normal means leading a personal life, without being looked at, asked questions, tired of their requirements.

It means going down the street thinking entirely about other things, without the need to look at gazes and analyze them, seeing them in general as critical and even hostile.

It means the pleasure of anonymity, ordinary life on the outside and therefore freer on the inside.

I get it, you don't have to go too far, analyzing all of that, it's being normal in terms of gender, being seen and accepted like anyone else, having friends who see you as a woman, friends who see you as a woman, who don't more questions are asked about you than normal.

It can be said that everyone understands what it means to be normal in this regard, it is not necessary to rethink with forty analyzes, search through a hundred interpretations. It would be nice.

In general, this normality on the street is possible for those who “pass by”. For those of us who "did not pass" it is impossible until we imagine it. We have to resign ourselves to being “weird”.

You have a right to want that. It's not heroic, but you have the right not to want to live heroically. Except for some people, who like conflicts, the true moments of necessary heroism are not sought, but come by themselves. And better not come.

I can't tell you no. All the more so since you are not stupid and you do not want total and absolute normality, but rather the one that works in practice. You know that, for example, you do not try to make your friends consider you as "normal", "not weird", because they will have to know that you are trans; You don't intend to get to the point of hiding your story from them, because then you would have to erase traces here and there and that in practice is a fool.

Not at work either. With a practical spirit, you know that you don't mind being considered “weird” where you are known and respected. The more they know you, the more they will respect you, and the more normal you will seem to them, because they will be your friends and companions.

Where you want to be normal is in the street and among strangers, even clients or users of the work you have. You see me, and you don't want to be like me. It overwhelms you to see the looks that are directed at me and that I do not see because I do not want to see them and especially, to understand that on the street I am a fair with an audience, a show. Don't worry. I know it and it overwhelms me sometimes. I get tired, day by day. I was even relieved to go to Chueca, because he told me that everything was possible there, until the day that in Chueca, two gays, in two successive moments, one said to another "Look what a faggot" and another came out of a bar to see me. better and laugh at me. I would like to be normal and not weird; it would be more restful. I have put on (women's) pants a few weeks ago. I look like a guy. It's more restful."

The Surveillance Officer stops reading for a moment, because he has looked at the clock and has to go for one of the regulatory laps. He complies with them, he complies with all the regulations strictly, as if there was someone inspecting him, to keep his spirit awake during the seven days and nights that he is going to spend alone in Huehuey.

He has to put on his fleece jacket over his uniform as soon as he steps out of the sheltered space of the office, and even then the cold bites through him. He walks the illuminated deserted corridors. Up the stairs. He passes the great optical observation room, where the great slit in the dome is open to the night, and he hears the clicks and whispers of the great machinery moving automatically as the telescope, I don't know how many meters in diameter, records the events on the computer. data you are getting.

Galaxies, luminous gas clouds, pulsars, quasars, the fundamentals of existence.

As he walks through the huge room and sees that everything is normal, the cold pierces him, despite the fleece, despite everything he's wearing. He has his hood on, of course, On his mustache, the breath from his nose begins to frost, and under his mouth too. Look at the thermometer display on the wall: thirty-two degrees below zero.

When she sneaks out the door, back into the hallway, which will only be ten below zero, she thinks about what I told her once, that even with my experience and my routine as an astronomer, I can't help but fear that Finding myself sometime, entering through the crack in the dome, someone who wants to invade us, terrestrial or extraterrestrial. And that, when I have been left alone for a few hours, what has been about to invade me has been an unbearable panic, which has almost forced me to remain locked in a corner of the office, looking anxiously at the door, permanently closed. Fear has always been one of the strongest components of my personality, linked to imagination, and I have not been able to control it.

He laughs, but he really laughs. He knows that he can last seven days just because he can rationally control his emotions. He prefers to analyze everything he imagines. The Observatory is open without a doubt, but it is to the solitude of the night and the cold of the high mountains. If something were to happen, it would be due to one of those extraordinary catastrophes that can affect us all. It is not worth worrying, beyond what is rational: that there is a person on duty during the vacations of the research staff, in case any technical incident occurs, a short circuit or who knows what.

He has talked to me many times, about many things, during the hours that we have met, he arriving and I leaving, having a couple of hot coffees from the machine. He appreciates me and still has affection for me. You know you can talk to me about anything. He sees me as very tall, in fact, with a booming voice, that many times I am more of a guy, as I say myself, but that other times I seem like an aunt (by blood, a sister of your father or your mother), someone affectionate , maybe tender. It seems to him that I am neither a man nor a woman, and for that very reason he appreciates me.

When he gets back to the office, he gets a hot coffee from the machine, as if to drink it with me, and continues reading the papers:

“Being weird has fallen on some of us, against our will. I'm weird, I know, the most normal thing I've managed to get through is a very tall foreigner, maybe a basketball player, I like to imagine it, or something like that, that is, I'm weird. That, the most normal. The ordinary thing, well, I'm a piece of trans, who loves me is happy when they see me, and who doesn't know me looks with astonishment. It is that they are 1'87, a loud voice and 45 shoes. It is that it did not happen.

However, I know there are other weird people against their will. Morbidly obese, for example. Or very ugly people, there are a lot of them. Or disabled, perhaps forced to be twisted in a wheelchair. All, inside, like everyone. People. with dreams We have not wanted to be weird, perhaps it is the first thing that everyone should understand. Learn to distinguish what is inside, which is surely very normal, and what is on the outside, more spectacular.

Friends, relatives, those who love weirdos, know this very well. Maybe it's enough. Maybe they love us even a little more, for being weird. Or a little less, who knows. Or at best, a lot.

Then there are “a little weird” or “almost normal” people, who pass by on the street with less expectation and more normally. Maybe you are one of them and you can count on that.

All this, in practice, is essential to get by. Life is rarely a garden (and even then, it always ends badly), most of the time it is more or less, a bit of this and a bit of that, a lot of good and a lot of bad. In short: a challenge that we have to get out of as best we can.

You're shocked that conservatives think people are divided into normal and weird, like good and bad. Don't be impressed. That's a conservative mistake.

For me, being weird has served me well. It has given me a place in life. Friends and friends that if not, I would not have. Conversations sometimes whole nights. Unique experiences. Reflections: understand my life better, be smarter to understand it, precisely because my life is strange, because it has forced me to think.

Yes, I understand that you want to be normal, that I wish I had been, and now I had children, a load (because I wouldn't have thrown away my work a couple of times, as I did), I would even be famous as a cartoonist, because he drew well. Finally, a life. But if I think about it, I've had other things.

Please: don't be overwhelmed. Be as normal as you can, I praise your taste. But gladly throw some of the rarity pepper into the dish. Well, I know that pepper sometimes burns your mouth. But there is the food and there is the seasoning, and both are worth it.”

Finish reading. He knows that I'm an easy-going aunt and that I actually enjoy life, in my own way. The same as him and to a degree that would amaze me if I knew. He won the opposition for the position of Warden after changing his documentation, so he has preferred not to tell anyone. No genital reassignment surgery has been performed. He has his girlfriend downstairs, in the world of the city, the normal one. Far from the galaxies, but inside one of them. He's going to talk to me, telling me about it, as soon as I get back from vacation. He knows I'm going to be hallucinating and he has fun, imagining it.

KimPérez 12-22-2009 Comment on this news (indicate in the title)