A daft little story?

There is a car factory somewhere in the country, that only produces pink coloured cars. They are all the same and they never vary; they always have the same bodywork and fittings, seats and accessories. Of course, they always have the same engine as well.

But now and again, there is a special order that will come into the factory for a blue car. The blue car is fitted with a different engine and it also has hard black leather seats instead of soft fabric ones and, extra metal trim on the outside to make it look sporty.

The robots on the assembly line are reprogrammed when they have to build a blue car. Sometimes they even build more than one at a time.

One day, when a blue car was being made, the robot that put in the engine wasn’t reprogrammed properly and so it put an ordinary pink engine into the blue car. This mistake went unnoticed because the bonnet lid was shut and the car was rolled out of the factory and tested by the chief mechanic. It started and seemed to be okay, so it was sent to the showroom to be sold. A prospective buyer came along and he took the car for a little drive and was very happy with it so he bought it. After some time, the buyer realised that something wasn’t quite right and so he opened the bonnet. No wonder the car wasn’t quite right; it’s got a pink engine. He drove it straight back to the showroom and got his money back.

The car was returned to the factory whereupon the manager wondered how to fix the problem. The engine could not be changed because it was too expensive to do the modifications and it would be an even more expensive loss if the car was scrapped. The easiest and cheapest option was to repaint the whole car pink. What about the wrong seats and the extra sporty trim? That’s alright, nobody will really notice.

Will they?

The nightmare of life

Do you have nightmares? Have you ever woken in fear of your life or with dread in your mind because you witnessed or experienced something powerful and horrible? Isn’t it a relief to wake and find it’s not real? Wait a minute though; it is real! There is no instant escape, no pool of cold sweat to tut over, no chance to forget the images that confronted you. There is no one lying next to you to cuddle for the reassurance, that extra confirmation that it didn’t happen.

Imagine the world is reversed; you have to go to sleep to escape the nightmare. It’s just like ‘The Matrix’. Sleep to be the person you want to be, the person you need to be. A world where you are in control. I hear you say it is not so, but it is; for me and many people like me. You cannot understand unless, of course, you are like me. For a lot of my early years, I thought that I was cursed with some strange malady. How can a person not like themselves? I don’t mean the trivial moment when you make a silly mistake, forget something, cut your finger trying to open a stubborn plastic wrapper. I mean a real self loathing. When you look down at yourself or use a mirror and what you see is ugly. From the time you realise that your body has got something wrong with it that can’t be fixed by the medical science of the day. From the time you realise that the mere mention to anyone of your worries will get you condemnation, ridicule and violence. Your body becomes a prison cell and the outlook is a life sentence.

Now, I have the opportunity for parole from my custody. A few years left of my life to be who I want to be. It will never be perfect but I have to do my best. I am as free as I will ever be. I try not to look back because my past haunts me. It is not the past I would have liked. Fond memories and love do not dwell in my past, only the hiding, hate and violence.

Now I walk a tightrope, a delicate path I must tread carefully to maintain any sanity and normality. If I lose my footing I will fall into a black fog of despair; all the self loathing, the shame that I bred for myself, the fear of the world, of my future and more is swirling below me. I have slipped many times and yet I have managed to hang on, haul myself back; climb up and keep going forward. Medical intervention these past few years has helped me to keep my balance. It is not a cure though.

If you are truly like me, an individual at odds with themselves because the body you have is the wrong one, then you will understand. I don’t have to tell you how it feels. The biggest problem for you and me is trying to get the rest of the world to understand. For so long myself and others like me have been labelled as ‘sick’. I am sick; sick now. The world has made me sick through fear. The world has made me sick through dread. The world has made me sick because I have had to hide in the shadows. I can never fully recover now; but I could be better. I just need to be left alone to be the best that I can be within the confines of this carcass that I was born with. Is it too much to ask of the world? I am not going to hurt anyone. I am not going to corrupt anyone. I am not a pervert, a ‘kiddie feeler’; and I do not gain any sexual pleasure from wearing women’s clothes. I do not prey on women; the hormone pills and testosterone blockers have removed any sexual desires. I am more attracted to a meal of pork pie, fried egg and chips these days. I know, not good for my figure but at least the pleasure lasts longer.

If you are reading this, then you are probably trans. Only trans people have any interest in trans blog sites; as far as I know. How do I get ordinary people to read this, to understand?

Consider this; perhaps ordinary mortals are afraid of trans people. Are we the X-men (and women) of the future? Does our somewhat dual identity make us more tolerant of others? Are we going to shape the future and steer humanity away from self-destruction due to our greed and selfishness because we trans are more considerate people? There will always be exceptions, but I like to believe that we are better than ordinary people; we are special. That thought helps me to cope with the everyday.

Will future medical science allow trans women to make children so the human race will survive in, hopefully, a better world?

I can dream, can’t I?

I won’t be here to see it.