et digt om transidentitet og smerten ved at blive feticheret

To be object of fetishisation

For some, trans identity can lead to feelings of alienation. Alienation from your own body, which does not reflect who you are. Or alienation from friends, family, and others who don't share the same experience and challenges. Some push their own boundaries to fit in, based on an expectation of what it means to be normal. This can lead to more challenges and even more alienation from the body. But normal is a relative concept and there is no one right way to be normal. Yet many have an idea of one real "normal". If you as a trans person have the same experience, remember that you are not alone with this feeling. Most people, trans or cis, experience the same need to fit in. And for most people, trans or cis, that almost always leads to more alienation and less sense of fitting in.

Read about the experience of alienation, trying to fit in, and the problems it can cause from a trans person's perspective here

Being fetishized

It is not without its problems,

having a body like mine,

and having the sex I have.

assigned woman at birth, spend the next 16 years fighting myself, figuring out

I am man without cock

and young.

and a high school student.

and everyone around me

are going about their lives.

The smoking shed became the frame of the conversation, I always felt left out of. hookups turned into conquests. it unfolded every weekend and consisted of hookups in the city, tinder dates, and roleplay with lovers. I wanted to be one of them.

I took everything I could. sorted the grossest away, otherwise, I went for it. always had something to say on Monday mornings in the smoker's shed. I was one of them.

Yet I took it to extremes. suddenly it was not just on weekends, but after school too. I became more and more inclined to just say yes to their fantasies.

The problems piled up. Because it is not easy to be, in a non-normative body. My mere presence makes me an object, and men love to exploit this.

I thought that once you were queer, you had the understanding to be inclusive and open-minded. I soon found out that this was not the case. that some glorified me as an object, and others took me in secret.

I became the property of so many men. I didn't enjoy it, it wasn't nice or safe, but still - I just wanted to be the same as the others

hookups became a routine. I focused on your body, I wish you didn't focus on mine. you get called things. woman, man, fag, trannie, bonus hole. The fantasy would never end. Reality became distant.

I became what they called me. The 16 years I had spent finding myself were chopped to pieces by countless one-night stands. I was nothing but an object and that was what I deserved. That was how I treated myself and let them treat me.

Back in the smoking shed, I stopped sharing. I was again outside the norm, this time at the opposite end. My sex life had devolved into assault with consent, into affairs, I was the middle ground between man and woman - and you could adjust your perception as you saw fit. I had been turned into a fetish.

My trans identity was accompanied by alienation. I would never fit in.

The strange shadow of shame, internalized anger and fear became danger signals I learned not to register. I was, flowing in and out of men's lives, while I myself gained a completely distorted view of myself.

Like living a double life where the two realities cannot be reconciled.

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