Day 42: Accuracy in Reporting

In writing yesterday’s post, I thought a lot about the deeply personal nature of the content and why I choose to put such intimate details of my life into print. The connection of my blog to my daily life is no secret and I’m a building what in the vernacular is referred to as a very ‘professional life’. So why would I choose to speak so honestly of my past and futurepresent?

Accuracy in reporting, my friends. When I started this blog, I did so with the intention of chronicling my transition at it best and worse in real time. Nothing to hide. I ran letters from my parents are their ugliest. I shared stories about beautiful acceptance and hideous ignorance. This blog for me has been about 100% honesty with myself and my readers. This is the approach I take in my personal life, and the approach I will take when I compile these writings into my upcoming book, (tentatively titled) Topless Mountains are Obscene but Men Sure Ain’t. 

With a thousand reasons to keep this blog narrowly focus on every new hair on my newly testosteroned body, and a thousand more to keep the more challenging moments of my day to day taciturn, I choose to share it all because the amount of information available of happy, functioning transpeople is even smaller in quantity than our population share itself – something of .3% of the adult US population (source: “How many people are lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender?” Williams Institute, 2011.) It is not long ago that I was scouring every book and poorly coded website to satisfy an ache for any information about my ill-matched body and brain. Facebook groups and the now super-prominent quarterly pub, Original Plumbing, (and I guess tumblr too), make the information and support for trans people widely available. Information on hormones, the ever amusing passing tips, and GPOY (“gratuitous pictures of yourself”) abound.

So why another voice in the mix? Why another mouthy man of trans persuasion  Because I will live, die and stand by the personal narrative. At the end of the day, I suppose it might be a southern thing  

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