Not Much of a Man

By Rebecca Kling 

One of the oddest experiences of my transition was going off hormones to deposit sperm. (Almost three years ago!) It made me feel –perhaps more than any other single situation –as if I was balanced on a knife edge between ‘man’and ‘woman.’I wasn’t a woman (the thinking went) since I was at a doctor’s office attempting to deposit sperm. And I wasn’t much of a man (the same train of thought concluded) since my sperm count was so frustratingly low the doctor couldn’t get a viable sample. It was an agonizing paradox, of sorts: If my sperm count was high enough for a successful deposit, the hormones weren’t reshaping my body in the way I wanted them to. If my sperm count wasn’t high enough for a successful deposit, the hormones were working but I’d have to stay off of them even longer, in hopes of getting my sperm count up. 

Either way, I lost. 

Since then, I’ve had many occasions where I felt uncomfortable being too ‘girly’or to ‘manly,’and have been unsure of how to navigate my way through. I’m reminded of a time, a year or two ago, I was bringing home groceries with a friend. I was attempting to carry way too much, and she laughed and yelled, “You’re not a man any more! You don’t have to do everything at once, so take two trips!” 

Then, when I was in the hospital getting my gallbladder removed last year, my mom brought me a care package in the hospital. In it was some girly magazine with makeup and clothing tips, one of those thick glossy things you’d buy in the checkout line at the supermarket. I tossed it aside, not because I didn’t want to look at it, but because I was convinced I’d somehow be perceived as a girl if I did so. My friends who came to visit, the nurses, the doctors, they’d know I was a girl! (As if the boobs, name tag reading ‘Rebecca,’and being referred to by female pronouns didn’t tip them off.) My roommate, of course, waltzed in and picked up the magazine, saying “Oh, can I read this when you’re done?”(So much for that worry.) 

A constant worry throughout my transition has been that I’ll do something ‘wrong,’whatever that means. My makeup will be applied incorrectly, my clothing will be hideously mismatched, my taste in movies or books or decorating style will be embarrassingly pre-teen to make up for the adolescence I feel I missed. 

Slowly, though, slowly I’ve realized those worries are roadblocks rather than sanity checks. Instead of guiding me toward sane and reasonable choices, they’ve guided me away from exploring my at-long-last female identity. I’m comfortable and confident in my ability to dress myself in pants and t-shirts, but I enjoy putting on myself in tights (or leggings? I can never remember which is which) and a dress. Which means –in a lesson I keep relearning every few months –I should try to do that more! (Duh!) Likewise, while it’s easier and less stressful to go out sans makeup than figure out if my eyeliner application was even and appropriate, I like how I look with a bit of makeup. So the only way to make that experience less stressful is to do it. 

And then, lo and behold, enjoy the compliments I receive when I put a little more effort into my appearance. 

Because I’m not much of a man. I was never much of a man. I was mediocre at being a man, hated getting on suits and ties, and have only resisted reveling in my femininity because I’m scared of doing it wrong, not because I don’t think I’ll enjoy it. 

Which is a silly reason to stay away from something.

Check out more of Rebecca on her websites: www.rebeccakling.com and fridaythang.com/blog