Wow, ten whole days. Well that already makes this the longest I've kept a diary. Not exactly boasting, there, that's a bit of a pathetic admission.
Today was not a fun day, and I went to sleep feeling jangled and fretful. Yesterday on my way to work some vile child pointed and laughed to his friend as I drove past, which is not pleasant. I'd have stopped and told him what a little shit he was and some day his parents would realise and be ashamed, but that would have made me late for work.
It did serve to make me more sensitive to such things, and I went into the very full doctors this morning for my first injection of a T-blocker to be greeted by some teenage girls nudging each other and laughing as I walked in. Cheers girls, thanks for that. For the record, I was in Jeans and a T-shirt, not a ball gown and tiara or anything, but apparently I was still funny. I took a seat at the only available seat, facing the majority where everyone could get a good look, thanks, and was then called in to see the nurse with my old name on the screen above my head.
Now I first asked them to change this months ago. They said at the time it would be simple, and they would see to it. Then I came back, and it was unchanged. They apologised, and said they would see to it. I came back again, and it was still unchanged. I asked the doctor about it, and he said that he had spoken to the people making the software, and once an account was set up they couldn't change the gender on it. The only thing they could do would be to create a whole new record, and copy my details over to it. Fine, I said, whatever; as long as my records didn't then assume I was a natal female, because I'm not, and for medical purposes that should be known. He said he would see to it. Then I got a letter asking if he was alright to go ahead with this. For Christ's sake, YES. I called in, in person, to say so. They said they would see to it.
So today, with it still not fixed, I went to the counter to remonstrate with the reception staff, and while I was waiting the nurse came out right next to me and called my name out to the assembled fifty or so people waiting. I had to say 'Yes, but that's not my name' as quietly as I could. At least she had the good grace to look embarrassed and realise the situation. She'd not been handed the letter detailing what the shot I was getting before, so to be fair to her she had no way of knowing in advance how crass she was about to be.
She apologised profusely during the ensuing administration, and said she would see to it. Forgive me if I don't hold my breath.
This evening I watched a couple of delightful reviews of my home town, C4's Making Bradford British, and this photo essay, both of which made it look like a seething hell-hole of hate and stupidity, both of which nicely put me in a bad mood for ITV's My Dad Is A Woman.
Well, I suppose I have only myself to blame for watching an ITV trans documentary. Wasn't really expecting much, and my low expectations were amply fulfilled. If I was playing the transgender drinking game I'd be writing this from my hospital bed after having my stomach pumped. Its worst faux pas was also misgendering people, as you would expect from the title, with them adopting the rule that people be referred to as male if you are referring to the period before their transition, as if we are born with a massive switch sticking out of our backs.
I don't particularly believe in gender much at all, subscribing more to the idea that being trans is a physical discomfort from a brain incongruity, coupled with an upbringing that determines socialisation, setting sexuality and interests early in your life by psychology, not biology (I'll go into this in more detail another time, sorry if that came across a little breathless), but this programme treated the sexism and assumptions of femininity as a foregone conclusion in those transitioning. On this subject, if no other, it seems feminism never happened.
I could go into detail about the many things that wound me up about this programme, from the repetition of wanting to be a woman (rather than realising they were a woman), to the obsession with surgery, to the constant before shots to reinforce people's maleness... Ugh. I won't labour you with it. If you're in the UK you should be able to watch it here online when they get their fingers out of their asses.
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