this is one of those threads where I keep typing and back-spacing.
I'll try to stop back-spacing now and try to string a few thoughts/feelings together.
My sweetheart believed during her early twenties that she would transition one day. When we met, she said that she'd decided against doing so.
I keep in the back of my mind that it's possible one day she will change her mind. And if that happens, I already know it will break my heart in little ways. Even if I liked every change that happened, there'd be a part of me that would need to mourn those changes too.
I would miss the her that she is to me. I would miss the us that we have. I would miss the person I met and fell in love with. That doesn't mean I wouldn't love the he that emerged or enjoy the us that we would have, but it would be a different fit.
If it made her happier, if it felt right to her, then I would feel it was right and I would be happy *for* her (him at that point), but I'm not so sure i'd be so happy *for* me. I think a lot of that would have to do with how things fell out.
I wouldn't want to lose what small visibility I have as a femme. I wouldn't want my identity as a lesbian to be questioned or threatened. I wouldn't want to spend years relegating myself to gender-cheerleader while watching my own self and identity fade into the wallpaper while *his* emerged. I wouldn't want to lose the sense of community I have with other lesbians. Or the sense of comradery I feel being with another woman. I wouldn't want to live stealth or lie or sublimate myself or my identity so another person could be comfortable in his. I wouldn't want to feel like I had to stay silent or should feel ashamed if I felt angry or guilty or sad over any of the very many things that would change if she transitioned.
There's an ache in me - knowing that other femmes here and among us may be struggling with their heartaches, struggles, fears, grief in secret and alone because being open about it would seem like a betrayal to transitioning partners or even to the community.
There has to be a place for us femmes and enough room for us to be real about things. We are expected to accept, to nurture, to support, to encourage and never to fear or doubt or be confused or discourage or feel angry about whatever gender experiences or feelings or decisions our partners go through (or don't go through). How much of this we place on ourselves or our femme sisters and how much of this is placed on us from outside of this space - I'm not sure.
We are all transforming in one way or another as human beings. It may not always be as dramatic as it can seem when a person transitions from one sex to another. I would hate to see a trend of femme lives stunted while years are spent being rocks for our partners and never getting to find our own wings and pursue our own dreams.
If my love and my life go down the path one day of going through this type of transition, I want to make sure I'm a rock for myself too and that I don't clip my own wings or silence my own voice. If my life one day takes this turn in the road, there will be joy and pain involved. I'm glad that day is not today. I hope if that day comes that I will still have my community, regardless of whether my thoughts and feelings line up correctly with what I *should* think or feel about it.
Anyway, I probably should have employed my backspace more here, but there it is.
I've dated people of various gender identities and stages and definitions of transition, but I personally have never seen a person through a transition. Since I know my attractions, I've known for a long time that I could easily find myself in this position in my life. I learned during my exploratory
years that the look, the feel, the chemistry of attraction, the preferences in and out of the bedroom - none of that is a guarantee that a person will or won't identify a certain way or possibly transition - or stop transitioning - or any of that.
So I've become more clear with my own boundaries. I'm never going stealth. I'm never giving up my community. I identify as a lesbian. I have a big mouth. I can be no more of a rock for you than I am for myself. And sometimes I need a rock too. I am happy to watch you stretch your wings and fly, but I want to fly too, to grow too and not just to grow around you. I will accept and encourage and support all I can, but I need support and acceptance and encouragement too. And not just around a partner's transition but about my own finite life and its transformations independent of whom I'm with.