Changing my Chest / Beware the Nipp

I wasn’t going to write about this. Writing about this is hard, because I’m still figuring out what I want for me. Please know, this is an honest account of sharing, not an invitation for advice on what I should or shouldn’t do with my chest ❤ I say this with love.

I wasn’t going to tell anyone, except for my lovely living-mates and heart-homos, but now I feel I need to speak out. Why? Because I just realized that by citing #freeingthenipple on Facebook, and including my own thoughtfully crafted response, my voice could and would be silenced. The post was deleted—perpetuating the cycle of discrimination and oppression against female* and trans* bodies.

Tomorrow, I have an assessment for Reconstructive Chest Surgery—to discuss the reshaping of my chest from one that is “female” to one that is more aesthetically “male”.

Much like my decision to start Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) almost 3 years ago, I needed this decision to be my own—free from the judgement or perceptions of those around me, something that felt like mine so I could know that in all of it’s permanence, it would be the right thing for me.

I got the call from Dr Cameron Bowman’s office a little over 3 weeks ago, to finally book an appointment for my assessment to have reconstructive chest surgery, and have been unpacking my incredibly complicated feelings about this long thought out possibility being one step closer. Paperwork and being on a wait list for funding began more than a year ago, with the approval coming through some time this past summer. The assessment I’d put out of my head, knowing that it could be impossibly long so I didn’t really want to think about it in the mean time.

I struggle with my chest. The shape of it under a shirt when I don’t bind or the pain and discomfort that comes when I do. Binding is something I’ve done pretty consistently for the last 8 years of my life, and the physical ramifications are many.

Let me try and recapture what I wrote just a few days ago…

RE: #freeingthenipple

I remember just last year, I was getting ready to take a group of young folks to a weekend long camp. It was a hot, sticky Friday, and one of the young (cis) male youth had taken off his shirt while loudly proclaiming how hot it was. This caused a bit of commotion with some of the other youth, particularly the androgynous/genderqueer and trans* youth—they prodded at me and pushed, if he can take off his shirt, why can’t we take off ours?
I responded to the best of my ability, bringing up that it is technically legal in the city of Vancouver for anyone to walk around without a shirt on, but this brings up so much more. Just because there are laws in place that are suppose to protect our safety and our dignity, this is rarely the case.
A woman or person assumed to have breasts can not walk down the street without a shirt in safety; without fear of harassment or being sexually assaulted no matter how hot it is outside. Rape culture confirms this as truth.
Trans* individuals are also at risk of being targeted, with the added bonus of these violent acts being explicit hate crimes.
*
When I was 23, I lay in the Langara College courtyard, head resting in my then partner’s lap. A hot day in June, before my journey of starting HRT, though well into playing with my gender identity, I lay with my bare chest exposed to the sun.
A campus security guard came by and ordered me to put my shirt back on.
I told him that I wasn’t breaking any rules, that other young men were walking around campus with their chests bared, and that it was fully legal for any person of any gender talk walk around without a shirt in the city of Vancouver should they choose.
He ordered me to put my shirt back on or he would escort me off campus.
I felt shame, I felt anger, I felt resentment.
*
From my late teens until now, I’ve taken it on as a continued act of resistance to bare my chest.
It began as simply not understanding why I had to wear a shirt when the other boys didn’t. I hated the feel of fabric against my skin, even when my hair was long and I went by Girl.
This gained me unwanted attention and I would move through years of roller coaster feelings, some of which I mentioned above.

There is no justice here, just the policing of bodies coupled with senseless acts of violence and oppression all while claiming that “men and women are equal”.

When I think about my chest, and how I wish it could be, I get so mad at how things are right now. There is a stubbornness in me that is so prevalent…there is a voice in my head and it tells me that I shouldn’t go under the knife–it tells me that if I do, I’m selling out my values and politics for a body of privilege and comfort, and leaving so many who I care about to continue to face this oppression and injustice.

There is a war inside of me, and it rages through my chest. In my anger, I don’t know what to do. I wish to live my life through acts of love instead.

“HELLO, Ladies”

Sitting in a café with a friend when the server approaches us. I’ve barely removed my layers from being out in the cold, and I hear the words that make me want to keep my layers on and leave.

“Hello ladies…”

I cringe, I freeze, and I feel the old lurch in my stomach as it turns into knots while I practice my outside composure of keeping calm and carrying on.

*

“Keep calm and carry on”
It’s what we’re taught and told
And the older we grow
The more we should know
About not to assume
When strangers enter the room.

“To assume makes an ass out of you and me”
See it’s something we all hear
And as the words live in the back of our heads
They just as quickly disappear. 

“Ladies” isn’t a bad thing to be
When I hear it, I think
You can’t mean me

“Whoops I read you wrong.
Or did I read you right?”
In my panic to respond
It’s fight or flight.

I’ve had to learn
That the bridges I burn will help no one grow
And so
I sit with my unease
Remind myself that “ladies” isn’t a disease
Tease apart the word from the assumption
Muscle up some gumption
And calmly converse in a way others can relate. 

Once upon a time
The upset would be
Because you mis-gendered me
And now it’s a different cup of tea. 

This still beating heart
That was once a spade
Gendered words
Quickly dug my grave
I crawled my way out
Cradled my head
Now I shout
For the he-she-they
You know nothing about.

*

When we talk about assumptions, we know we shouldn’t make them. Words like “ladies” and “gentlemen” or “hey guys” “what’s up girls?” are such an every day part of our language that we rarely challenge. Words that are so often used, the majority of people don’t even realize that in those moments, we are making incredibly impactful assumptions.

My friend left the table and I called over our server. I asked for her name, shook her hand and introduced myself.
I brought up that when she first approached the table, she used greeted us as “ladies”, and while being a lady can be a wonderful thing for some, it’s definitely not how I identify. She acknowledged that when she said it, she felt immediately like she’d said something wrong, but didn’t really know what else to say.

I asked her if she knew anything about gender spectrum/identity and she said not much.
I brought up how in greeting guests/patrons in non-gender specific ways, we’re removing basic assumptions we’re making in our perception of someone else’s gender identity, and that by doing so, we’re able to create a more inclusive and welcoming space for all.

The server then told me of a different time, where she used the term “ladies” and the guest/patron became visibly agitated and upset, she had no idea of what other terms to use, or how to make that person feel better. She asked me, what other terms might be used in greeting guests.

I suggested things like “Welcome” or “hey folks” (this was by no means a fancy establishment. I understand that changing the culture of fine-dining experiences and what management and the predominant clientele would expect from those situations will be a different kind of explaining/language and learning) or something more of a self-introduction “Hi, my name is ___________, and I’ll be your server today! Is there anything I can start you off with?”

You see, there are so many ways we can greet people without making these assumptions that are so ingrained in us, and just as people evolve, so does the language we use.

*

I know you didn’t mean any harm
So it must come as an alarm
To realize that some people might question
The common perception of what others might see
In relation to their identity

I try not to let it show
But more times than I care to admit
I’m put into a box that just doesn’t fit
That just doesn’t fit
And that’s not the half of it.

To these rules of engagement
There is so much to learn
This is my statement
The tables must turn.

*

In these moments, I’ve come to a place where I can hold those conversations without losing my shit. I’ve become my own advocate, because I’ve had to. I hope and dream of a time when these assumptions aren’t made, because they affect and impact more people than most would realize.

*

So I don’t become the angry person
Who’s forced to always educate
Let me re-iterate
You don’t have to relate

*

I don’t always want to be the one to have these conversations. I have them, because I have to. I have them, because the next person who walks through the door, might not yet be able to say what they need to feel okay in their skin, and my saying something now might change that interaction.

*

Breathe deep and try not to take things personally.
Personally. Person-ally? Person. Ally.
I’m just one person looking for an ally.

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