The Little Prince and the Fox

Yesterday evening I went climbing outdoors with a couple of guys with whom I climb regularly once a week here (on weekdays): two of them were my regular climbing partners, and also friends at this point; the third was someone new to me but a buddy (& colleague) of theirs. 

When I introduced myself to this person who was new to me, I said the usual, “Hi, I am …, and I use ‘they’ pronouns”. And the guy’s reply was, “That’s great! Thanks for letting me know. I’m …, and I use ‘he’ pronouns”.   

I’ve gotten into the habit of mentioning my non-binary pronouns and even of talking openly about my transgender identity with climbing partners here, at this point: on the one hand, because it means a lot to me that I not get misgendered and that I be seen as who I really am, if/when possible; on the other hand, because fortunately most of the people I’ve been climbing with here are open-minded and kind, so I instinctively feel comfortable around them and safe to tell them immediately about my transgender identity. 

Overall, I’ve received complete acceptance and respect and understanding (or genuine interest) towards my transgender identity, which has reinforced my feeling safe and comfortable around people from this community. However, I had never received such a great response as yesterday’s. It was just so appropriate, so inclusive… It wasn’t just along the lines of “whoever you are is totally fine” — which is already lovely and what I have usually received from other climbing partners. This was also along the lines of “I accept and understand how you identify — thanks for the info — and this is how I identify”, reciprocating the information I had given him. 

Those few words clarifying his own gender identity meant a lot to me, on different levels. On the one hand, it gave me a sense of inclusion, reciprocation, even camaraderie, or normalizing things in a good sense: I’m not “weird” because of being transgender and I’m not the only one who should need to clarify what my gender identity is by specifying my pronouns; it’s almost as if with those few words he had divested himself of his cis-gender privilege. On the other hand, it brought me to realize how much I also assume and/or put myself into a “different bucket” by specifying my own non-binary pronouns without always asking other people what their pronouns are. Sometimes I ask, but I often assume, leaving it up to them or to chance to be clarified: by doing so I am making my own assumptions while also putting myself on a different level from them, almost discriminating against my own self (or them). 

This was all quite enlightening for me — a great lesson… And it felt so good!

[Content warnings: social anxiety; COVID/pandemic; (mis)gendering & gender dysphoria]

“Courage is different for each of us”. So is fear. 

My two best climbing buddies here in Colorado are both wild, somewhat reckless, adventurers (which is probably the reason we “clicked” and get along). They’re both very good climbers, one of them in particular having started as a teenager and being overall an extremely experienced and well-rounded mountaineer. When I climbed with the latter a week ago, after several attempts at leading a relatively easy, low, and well-protected route, he suddenly said to me, “I’m too scared. I’m coming down”. I was surprised (though full of respect for him & his decision): I’ve seen him, and belayed him, leading & climbing much harder and riskier routes; this one was totally within his technical and physical skills — it was even within mine, and I’m a much worse & less experienced climber than he is. But the point here was his head, his mind: he was scared, for seemingly inexplicable reasons. Fine. It happens to all of us, as both he and my other good climbing buddy said to me once or twice when I froze inexplicably on a simple route. 

Generally, though, as climbers, we will enjoy and even thrive from these risks, the thrill. 

When I’m well, at my “mental baseline”, I can handle the risks and fears from sailing (including in bad weather), motorcycle riding, rock-climbing, backpacking, being exposed to the elements, to bears and mountain lions, moose and elk.

But I’m terrified of crowds. 

I’ve always had some social anxiety — maybe because I’m mostly an “introvert”? For most of my life I’ve struggled in large groups of people, often feeling shy, like I don’t belong, that I’m awkward or out of place. Since COVID, though, this has grown exponentially for me. I’ve become literally terrified of crowds of people, even outdoors if there’s not enough personal space and/or if food has to be shared or we’re eating/drinking together (which means I have to remove my face-covering, which nobody else is wearing anymore). 

Yesterday, I rode my motorcycle to a nearby town where a conference is being held that most of my research group & department are attending, too. I had a good ride but arrived alone. As I approached the hotel in which the conference is taking place, I could feel the anxiety rise inside me. I donned my N-95 mask and went indoors, straight to the registration desk, where I found out that lunch was being served outside, which gave me some relief and hope. 

Before going out to lunch, though, I needed to use the bathroom and decided to go to the men’s room (it was also the first one I found). I’m not sure whether the two guys in there gave me weird looks or whether it’s just me still feeling uncomfortable about this, but gender-dysphoria along with the sense of not being “seen” the way I really feel — i.e. of being “seen as a woman” — started to add itself uncomfortably to my COVID-anxiety. 

Once I got outside to the lunch area, the situation didn’t improve for me: there were loads of people and crowded tables crammed all around a buffet with a line of more persons. This, on top of the gender-dysphoria and then also the sense of not belonging because I didn’t know anyone & feel I have nothing to do with scientific research anymore— i.e. my impostor syndrome coming back full on — this was all too much for me to bear. 

I turned around, walked back, found a table a little on the side in order to calm my thoughts. It wasn’t real panic, but there was some anxiety and a huge amount of discomfort. And I decided that I simply didn’t want to deal with it, that it wasn’t worth it for me, that I’d respect my discomfort, my fear, and leave. I decided that my emotions had the right to exist and to be felt and to be honored. I decided to respect my fear, to heed it, to listen to what it had to say. 

Many other people have no fear of crowds or of COVID, or they don’t feel uncomfortable in their assigned/assumed gender or are confident in their professional position. I am afraid of crowds because of COVID; I feel uncomfortable when I perceive that I am being “seen as a woman”, i.e. (mis)gendered; moreover, at the moment, I am feeling very insecure in my professional position as I feel that I lack the skills for it. These emotions are valid. And realistically they would have impaired or, at least, reduced my ability to focus on the scientific aspects of the conference itself. 

I am afraid of some things that to other people may seem easy or harmless or effortless. But I am not afraid of riding my motorcycle — so I got back on my bike and rode home and attended the conference online (fortunately, thanks to the pandemic, this option now exists, too)!

I’m writing this post mainly as a reminder to myself of how wonderfully healing it is for me to be out in Nature — a true panacea. 

The past couple weeks have been a quite stressful and somewhat overwhelming. I’ve found a counselor that feels like a great fit for now and I’ve been doing some very deep work with them, which has been wonderful and positive for me, bringing or speeding up growth and awareness, but it’s also been tiring and has led to intense realizations, vivid dreams, and therefore additional tiredness. Moreover, I’ve been looking for a new place to live, since I have to move out of my current place by mid-October, and it has turned out to be harder than expected — this is when being the “incurable optimist” that I am backfires! In turn, this house-hunting has taken time and attention away from my scientific work, turning my even-present-but-relatively-silent impostor syndrome into a howling monster. 

This past weekend, though, I took off and went camping in a National Forest a little further north, regardless of everything. I had planned this break, and I really needed this break, so I just went. And thank goodness I did! 

Two days totally offline — no computer, no cell-phone, in a place that was totally new to me, mostly on my own or with new people…  

The first night I camped in my tent, at the very far end of the big, primitive camping area that hosted the runners and volunteers for Saturday’s trail race. Technically, I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t know anyone so there was this mixed feeling for me of being “safe” because of there being other human beings relatively nearby but also on my own and exploring because it was a new place and a crowd of strangers. 

The beautiful, powerful, and empowering part came on Saturday night and into Sunday. 

I had planned to volunteer at this race on Saturday and then stay there, camping out, also on Saturday night and go hiking and exploring on Sunday, to make a weekend of it. But I had no fixed plans, and no idea even of what the campgrounds were really like. I planned just enough to be okay but leaving details to the spur of the moment. So after spending the day volunteering with other people at the race, by 5 o’ clock on Saturday evening I was totally alone. Totally. The campground was empty and I had the rest of the evening and night and the next day all to myself. Initially, I felt very lonely and almost lost. I also felt tired and relaxed and I could deeply sense the beauty of everything around me — and that’s when I felt some sadness, or melancholy, because I couldn’t share all that beauty, that relaxed happiness, with some close, beloved person. But I didn’t run away from these emotions nor did I try to push them away. I allowed them to be, while I got on with the practical things I needed to do in order to make my night camping out there alone safe and comfortable. I moved my stuff to a campsite with a bear-box, since that was the major danger there. And I prepared to car-camp since it had rained all afternoon and the ground as well as my tent were too wet. Then, I washed and relaxed, first journaling (expressing my feelings, recognizing them without allowing them to overwhelm me) and then nestling comfortably to read. 

The sky darkened around me and the stars began to poke their heads out. It was just me and Nature, me and the wilderness. It got dark and it got cold, but it was beautiful and I was okay. I was safe — as safe as I could be in such a situation. I had all I needed then & there, all I needed in that moment. I slept the best sleep I’ve had in months: deep, relaxed, relaxing. I got up a few times during the night to pee and admired the starry sky, breathing in the fresh air: during the first part of the night, before the Moon came out, the Milky Way shone brightly, studded with billions of stars; Jupiter was huge in the sky; later, the Milky Way gave way to the Moon, while the stars and Jupiter still shone brightly. I felt so at peace. And alive. And not alone. 

The next morning I woke up feeling happy, refreshed, relaxed and ready to adventure out on a hike. I had a quick, cold, caffeine-free breakfast, broke down camp, and headed out. I still felt so at peace, so alive, and also full of a tranquil energy (not anxious energy) and full of purpose. That grounding purpose of practical things one has to do almost to survive — like I had felt the night before. Which I guess it one of the aspects I like the most — and have always loved and benefited from — about being out in Nature, in the wild. And, in fact, something I’ve always instinctively sought out since I’ve been old/independent enough to do so — with my sailing buddy, “escaping the world” by adventuring out in our little boats; backpacking and/or camping with friends in California; going on long road trips by myself, often on my motorcycle and camping, exploring new places every summer. 

I love being out in Nature, out in the wild, on my own or with close people with whom there’s a deep connection. I love the aspects of adventure, exploration, even risk. But I also love the feeling of “going back to the basics”, of being reminded of, and actually feeling/experiencing, our basic needs without all the additional needs coming from society or civilization. For me, it always feels like a reminder of what we really need to survive, to live, even to be happy and/or well. It feels like “de-cluttering”, cleaning up my brain, my mind, my soul. And it grounds me — even literally, like when I sleep on the ground in my tent feeling content and at peace. It brings me and keeps me in the moment, in that moment, giving me peace in a way that nothing else can. 

I’m writing all this because I need & want to remember it: I’ve always been like this, Nature and being “out in the wild” for periods of time have always been the best remedy for me and often all I really need to find my balance/peace again. 

[Trigger warning: menstrual period; PMS]

Today was rough. The “battle of the giants” raging in my body as female and male hormones fought for supremacy, probably intensified by PMS (according to my calendar…) and some poor sleep. 

However, a small thing this evening made my day, turning it upside-down for the better. 

I went to my climbing gym for a yoga class, feeling overwhelmingly dysphoric in my assigned gender so despite expecting my period to show up any minute now, I decided to use the men’s restroom anyway. 

[Note: this gym is trying to modernize the structure to allow for all-gender restrooms & all-gender changing rooms, but at the moment it only has binary women’s/men’s options.] 

I still feel a little uncomfortable and self-conscious whenever I use the men’s restrooms, and even worried that I might be told I’m not allowed to, although I know I am — but it feels less gender-dysphoric than using the women’s. Today I was feeling particularly conflicted about having to make a choice because of my own physiological reasons. But then, as I was washing my hands, I noticed two details that made my day. One was a baby’s changing-table — men are allowed to change babies, too — YAY!!! And then… a basket of sanitary pads near the sink, just like the one in the women’s room, and over it a friendly note saying, “Yes, we belong here! Please don’t remove, and help yourselves”! 

The fact that they are allowing the idea of “men” needing sanitary pads, “men having their period”, seemed simply so wonderful, somehow so gender affirming to me, that all of a sudden I forgot all about my own rollercoaster emotions from today and went downstairs to the front desk to thank them. 

A small thing — a basket of sanitary pads in the men’s room — and yet in many ways, for some people, such a big difference!

When I was hanging out with one of my good non-binary/trans-masculine friends here on Saturday, they made a very insightful comment about one of the important aspects in the relationships among us in our gender-expansive group and particularly between those of us who feel similarly a little more trans-masculine — namely, that we can safely and comfortably “practice being dudes”. 

I think my friend is right. I have been instinctively appreciating this aspect of our friendship without fully seeing it explicitly. And after yesterday’s outing with one of my closest (cis-male) climbing buddies here, I see why this lovely aspect of “practicing being a dude” has been mostly implicit for me: because, to a certain extent, I have had the fortune to practice it for most of my life thanks to the people I’ve encountered. 

I definitely had many — too many — people who were close and important to me treat me like a girl, and then eventually like a woman, and try to force me into those “roles” in a very harmful way: my whole family of origin (not only my nuclear family, but also most of my enlarged family on both sides); the (cis-male) partner with whom I was together for a while at the end of grad school and for many years afterwards; several professional environments.

These experiences and environments have been very harmful and toxic for me, but I have also had the fortune to encounter many people and environments who didn’t (mis)gender me at all. For most of my life I have had the tendency to hang out with boys as friends and despite some crushes here and there I’ve often been able to have very good friendships with them, being seen and treated just as myself, as a person, as a buddy, and I’ve thus felt like “just one of them” very often. Many of my hobbies and interests have also been conducive to being around boys/men and most of the time I’ve had the fortune to not be treated any differently, to not feel any different from them. I’ve had boyfriends and romantic/sexual partners who didn’t (mis)gender me — I tend to instinctively go for guys who will see and treat me like a “boy” in the ways that feel good & appropriate to me. In grad school, despite being definitely in the minority as an AFAB person, I felt and was treated as “gender-neutral” in a good sense, in the sense that we were all just physicists, colleagues, buddies. 

I think the worst experiences of being (mis)gendered were while I was growing up and thus dependent on my family and then, as an adult, with that one partner and in several professional environments. I remember the shock of leaving grad school and “entering the real world”: I felt so uncomfortable, missing so many aspects of grad school, but I couldn’t really place or explain a lot of it… Now I see that one aspect I was missing so intensely was the comfortable, safe “gender-neutral” feeling from grad school vs. the constant (mis)gendering that came afterwards (and had come before). I find it quite ironic that one of the professional environments where I felt the most (mis)gendering and where I got most of the unwanted attention was in the open-minded, liberal, “we-accept-everyone-just-as-they-are” academic world in California…  

But as my friend said on Saturday, now we have comfortable, safe environments where we can “practice being dudes”, and fortunately I’m able to do so, once again, with many persons and in several settings here, including my climbing buddies, which feels really nice. It’s something I’ve experienced before, but hadn’t had in a long time, so it’s particularly refreshing, albeit also weird, to be able to experience it again. It feels a bit like a finding a treasured object that one had lost and almost given up — when one finds it again, one is even more afraid of losing it a second time… 

“It’s not the load that breaks you down, it’s the way you carry it.” [Lou Holtz]

This quote came up a few months ago in one of the guided meditations I often do in the morning and it has been coming back to my mind frequently in these days — it has been feeling particularly appropriate for my current emotions or situation.

A little over a month ago, I began to look for a new counselor to  start doing psychotherapy again. One of the main, and very intentional, reasons was the emotional overload I had been experiencing in the past months and the need of support in that emotional overwhelm — in other words, the need for professional help in “carrying my load” (or, at least, part of it). 

I think I’ve found a good therapist for me now. We’ve done only three sessions, two of which this week: I explicitly asked them for an extra session this week because I knew I was carrying a particularly heavy, or tricky, load for which I was feeling the need for extra help. 

Both sessions this week were a lot of work, and the one on Tuesday was particularly intense. It was my work, my load. I wasn’t asking or expecting my therapist to carry it for me but, rather, to carry it together with me for those two hours, and to help me find an easier or less painful way of carrying it by myself afterwards. In fact that’s what they did, and that’s what felt so good, albeit intense and hard work, about the sessions. And that’s why I feel they’re a really good counselor or, at least, a good fit for me now. 

There are a few interrelated loads that I am carrying at the moment, but for one in particular I need(ed) help to find a better way of carrying it, as if readjusting a load in my knapsack or on the back of my motorcycle, readjusting it so it sits better, so that it’s less cumbersome, less tiring, less painful. 

For this particular load, the key way for me to carry it in a way does not “break me down” or doesn’t burden me or hurt me has been by embracing it more wholly; and, especially, by embracing more fully the fact that it is taking longer than expected to lighten this load. And that it might even be part of the many things that I will carry with me forever, most of which have become joyful memories rather than painful burdens that I carry around in that backpack that is my life, that is me. 

This load has been there, in shifting degrees, for over three years now. Fortunately, it hasn’t encumbered me or blocked me from doing my own things or stopped me from moving on, but it has been painful sometimes. On the other hand, though, it has brought me exceptional growth — and this growth has also come from repeatedly choosing to embrace this load rather than ditch it. 

Three years ago, a person I met in a professional context invited me to go climbing at the gym together. Not only because of the professional connection but also because of the clear yet unspoken mutual attraction between us, I was very undecided whether to accept the invitation or not, so I asked some of my closest friends for advice. They all agreed that going climbing together at the gym would be totally appropriate, so that wouldn’t be the issue, but that the question was more how I felt about doing it. One friend’s response, in particular, I will never forget. He is one of my best friends from California, a very dear and special friend to me, as well as a very intelligent and insightful person and someone who knows me very well. He said to me, “If you decide to accept this person’s invitation to go climbing together, you will be putting yourself in a situation and trying a type of relationship that are totally new to you, and for how I know you, I think this will broaden your horizons and bring you extra growth. It will be tricky, but I know you can handle it well no matter what happens. And it might be painful, but you are resilient”. 

That friend was right. 

I eventually did accept the invitation and go climbing at the gym with that (other) person. The situation did, indeed, get very tricky. In fact, it led to a relationships that has been in many ways confusing, hard to handle, even painful or frustrating for over three years now. But it has also given me moments of intense joy and feelings of liveliness like few others. And it has brought me, and is still bringing me, immense growth. 

A lot of this growth I have really felt and seen particularly in the past few weeks. And this growth has been possible for me precisely because I have made the choice, over and over, to not ditch this load but to work with it and try to find better ways of carrying it. This reiterated decision hasn’t been easy, partly because of external influences — some of them coming from social/cultural conditioning, some of them come from well-meaning friends — of the “need to forget about this situation” or “just get over this person”. But while moving on with my life, and maybe precisely because of moving on with my life, my gut has been drawing me back to this situation with this person, to gradual attempts at adjusting the situation — adjusting the load to carry it in a better way. 

I have learned so much, and I am still learning so much, from finding better ways to carry this load, from shifting and readjusting it, that in many senses I am grateful for it. That tricky, difficult, sometimes frustrating or painful, but also wonderfully joyful and enlivening situation with that person has taught me so much about myself, about my boundaries, about tracing my boundaries clearly and getting them respected, about stating my needs, about interacting respectfully & empathetically with other people. But maybe most of all it has taught me about the beautiful experiences and advantages that can come from embracing the challenge, the adventure, the risk of “putting yourself in a situation and trying a type of relationship that are totally new to you” — as that dear friend of mine said to me three years ago. As that good friend foresaw, it has indeed broadened my horizons and brought me extra growth, and for that I am grateful and happy. 

This gratitude and happiness, though, are possible also — or maybe only — thanks to finding ways of carrying the ensuing load so that instead of breaking me it will strengthen and enrich me.

[Trigger warning: boundary violation; victim shaming/blaming; unwanted attention.]

It feels paradoxical, like an oxymoron, yet it is real: this morning I feel a muddle of emotions, yet extreme clarity as well. Maybe it’s just too soon to express this clarity — but I need to jot down some of these emotions, so I will. 

For a while now, on and off for months, I know I have been getting close — closer & closer — to some real “biggies” for me, mostly concerning unwanted attention, boundary violation, and victim shaming/blaming. 

I’m still getting plenty of unwanted attention. Each of those instances maybe are not too bad, per se. But they are, de facto, a form of violating boundaries and they trigger old trauma for me. 

My family has decided, for no good reason, that I’ve had enough time of “silence” with them since asking them to suspend communication last spring, and have violated my boundaries twice in less than two weeks, the latest just yesterday. Which has been extremely upsetting for me for plenty of reasons. 

But on top of these instances of violating boundaries and/or unwanted attention, there is also shaming/blaming of the victim. When I was verbally and emotionally harassed by those two violent men this past spring, here was still someone who claimed I instigated it because of how I am (although I had never initiated any communication with either of those men). There are still people who insinuate or straight out say that it was my spontaneous friendliness and/or natural attractiveness that led the (cis male) students to hit on me at university (although I have always been extremely professional, sometimes even to the limit of rigidity). I’m sure there would still be plenty of persons saying that it’s my fault that I get unwanted attention because of my cool motorcycle or the way I look/dress at the gym. And plenty of people who blame me for being cruel (selfish, self-centered, immature — you name it) for not communicating with my family of origin. 

All of that blaming and shaming hurts. It’s harmful, toxic, inappropriate and even dangerous. 

But today I’m not only hurt by all these comments and attitudes or implications: today I’m also pissed off. 

Boundaries are boundaries, and they are sacred. They must be respected. 

And victims of boundary violation and/or unwanted attention (of any form) must be protected, supported, offered a safe space: not blamed or shamed. 

Regardless of how I am dressed, when I walk into a gym or a classroom or down the street, I deserve respect as a human being — as anyone else does, too. 

Regardless of the reasons why I need to suspend communication with my family and/or the time it might take me to be ready to communicate with them again, my boundaries are legitimate and must be respected. Period.

[Trigger warning (depending on how one interprets the lyrics of the song): body image/shape; unwanted attention; objectification; … ]

The song “Troublemaker doppelgänger” by Lucy Dacus is one of those that really gives me a visceral sense of the expression “to pull at the strings of one heart”. This song pulls at the strings of my heart, touches something deep in my soul, in my gut, even physically. 

I discovered this song two or three years ago as it was on one of the pre-given playlists on Spotify. I liked it immediately from the musical standpoint, for its melody, its rhythm, and the singer’s beautiful voice. But then the lyrics also started to catch my attention and touch something deep inside me, already back then. 

A few evenings ago, this song came back into my mind, for no apparent reason… And yesterday evening, as I put on my Spotify playlist to exercise at the gym, the first song up was “Troublemaker doppelgänger” by Lucy Dacus… 

When I got home last night, I played it on my computer for better audio, and paid more attention to the lyrics, which I share below.

For me now, these lyrics, these words, these images, are beautiful yet piercingly and almost unbearably close and meaningful — for my own self as well as one or two persons I know and care about deeply… 

“Is that a hearse or a limousine?

It’s like I’ve seen it on the TV screen, oh-oh

She had the body of a beauty queen

Put on a pedestal for good hygiene, oh-oh

I saw a girl that looked like you

And I wanted to tell everyone to run away from her

Run away, run away!

It couldn’t have been you but she had your eyes

Made for faking smiles and turning tides

Hands full of young men wrapped around her finger

They made you a throne out of magazines

They made you a crown out of peonies, oh-oh

She grew up as the pretty young thing

Let them look up her skirt on the backyard swing

Oh no…

Daddy told you to stay indoors

And I can understand how a girl gets bored

Too old to play and too young to mess around

She was a victim of the same disease

That’s roaming the streets and bites when it please

And makes us wanna live forever or die in infamy

I wanna live in a world where I can keep my eye doors wide open

But who knows what’d get in and what’d get out

One of these nights, I’ll sleep with the windows down

But not until that creature’s in the pound

No child is born knowing there’s an ugly or evil thing

When did my folks stop covering my eyes?

Was it my brother who taught me about jealousy?

Was it my sister who taught me about vanity?

Was it that girl, that beautiful girl

Thirsty for love and eager for attention

Was it that girl who taught me about destruction?

I wanna live in a world where I can keep my eye doors wide open

But who knows what’d get in and what’d get out?”

[Trigger warning: body image/shape; sex.]

[Spoiler alert: although the ending of the movie is not discussed, some details of the film are given.]

Last night I felt the need to relax with some light-hearted movie that would be easy to watch without being dumb, so I decided to risk it with the film “Good luck, Leo Grande!” And was pleasantly surprised. 

First of all, it’s one of those movies, like “The great Kahuna”, that is basically nothing more than two people in a room and their conversations. And that’s probably the best feature of this film: the topics of conversation, and how and where they arise — from what is supposed to be a “merely sexual” relationship. 

The movie starts from clichés, is built on clichés: the retired female school-teacher who’s had almost no sexual experience beyond the limited and unsatisfying one with her husband, who’s never even experienced an orgasm, who has dedicated her life to family & work, “following all the rules”, and then freed from her responsibilities as mother, wife, and teacher, has finally decided to try and explore her sexuality; the young, beautiful male sex worker who acts confident and happy with his life and job but who cannot share his real identity even with the people closest to him because they cannot, or don’t want to, accept him as he is, and who actually was rejected by his own mother because of how he was/is. 

On the one hand, I think that one of the values of this film lies in taking these clichés, which are also examples of how we still hyper-sexualize some bodies (e.g. the young, fit ones) and de-sexualize others (e.g. the aging female), among others, and putting them right in our faces in a light-hearted way (indeed, the movie is classified as “comedy”) that can nonetheless give us food for thought. 

On the other, I find the topics that are covered in the characters’ conversations and interactions to be very meaningful and relevant, such as: “body positivity”; loving one’s own body as being different from vanity; the beauty and importance of physical pleasure, whether it’s solitary or shared, given or taken; the beauty and naturalness of sex but also it being totally okay to have or want no sex; power dynamics; the importance of healthy, safe boundaries; child-parent relationship; motherhood; the responsibilities of being an educator; the status of sex workers; the toxicity and harmfulness of many social and cultural constructs; the personal liberation that can come also from one’s own relationship with their body (and possibly sexuality)… 

“There’s some important, and vulnerable, personal information that I would like to share with you also because it might become evident in our professional/academic interactions and work. 

As you probably know already, I use “they” pronouns because I identify as non-binary. What I’d like to share here is that I have recently started gender-affirming HRT (= hormone replacement therapy), which means that I am in many ways going through male puberty and thus putting my body through something it wasn’t really expecting. This means that my body, including my brain, are literally readjusting and some changes affect my daily life, for example the irregular energy levels I’m experiencing, the shifting in my focus (moments when I am as sharp and focused as ever, and moments when I struggle to concentrate on even the simplest task), and seemingly becoming a “night owl” in my sleep patterns. All this to say that — and explain why — I might seem or behave a little erratically in the mornings, for a while. 

Having always been an “early bird”, morning-type of person and very regular and consistent in my schedule, this shift in patterns is a little unsettling for me, too, sometimes — maybe some of you might recall your own puberty and extend some patience/compassion towards me! 

I’m sure that having a regular schedule, including our Wednesday & Friday meetings, will help. Generally, just FYI, it seems that my most productive work hours are in the afternoon & evening, for now.” 

This is the email I sent just a few hours ago to my research group, which includes my boss, a couple of PhD students and half-a-dozen younger students (undergrads and/or Master’s), most of them cis-males. 

So far, I have received some lovely replies. And empathy all around, albeit in different ways.

A wonderfully sweet and supportive (even from the practical viewpoint) reply from my boss. 

Gratitude and empathy and even admiration from a grad student whom I haven’t met in person, yet, but who apparently is also queer. 

Cute, sweet responses from two of the younger students, who are almost still “boys” themselves. When I saw them for lunch today (after I had sent the email) and mentioned that eventually I’ll also start sounding and looking a little different, one of them said to me that his voice is still cracking sometimes and that he wouldn’t notice if I behaved in a weird or erratic way because I’m just fun and weird anyway; while the other said he’s still going through his own puberty himself, so he can fully empathize. 

I’m extremely grateful for these responses. I’ve been very stressed out lately because of my focus being so low or erratic and thus my work being so unproductive, especially compared to the past. I’ve also simply being feeling the need to be fully “out”, fully authentic with my group, with the people I’m around and work with. I just cannot hide, I don’t want to hide my authentic self and I don’t believe in the “fake it till you make it” mentality anymore. 

I still feel the pressure of doing well at this job, but now this pressure is really only my own, due to how much I care about what feels to me like a “second opportunity” in my work life… So hopefully the relief from my coworkers’ responses will seep into the cracks of my own professional perfectionism or lack of confidence and allow me to relax, and probably thus work better, while being fully and authentically myself in this environment as well!