I’ve written before, a loss where one is true to oneself is no loss. I put that to the test the other day. I took a stand over a word. A significant word that carries a lot of meaning, even if it’s a small thing. Period. It’s a word that means a lot of things but carries a singularly womanly context. I use it because I get them – not the bleeding, as I’ve said – and I use that word because it describes my condition but it also empowers me as a woman. I’ve used it for months.
This month I used it and came under fire. I was stunned, hurt. Invalidated. I’ve had a couple of days of crippling dysphoria for it.
I drew a line in the sand. I told the people in contact with me that I would continue to use the word period and if they didn’t like it then they could walk away – or they could argue and I would push them away. It’s a step I needed to take for myself; a boundary I need to get past my feelings of worthlessness. A stand I had to take because it was important to me, even if it wasn’t important to them. I had to stay true to myself, and this was the only way I knew.
It was an act of a wounded fighter. A desperate move of someone who had resolve but no energy to push on. I knew I had to fight, that this was important, but I didn’t have the energy to wade into the debate and reason. Plus, I have less and less faith over reasoning over the Internet. People blow hot air at each other and bury themselves in semantics. It’s a waste of time.
Taking ownership of the word ‘period’ is, for me, an important part of acceptance and validation as a woman. If trans women are somehow not allowed to use the most common term for menstruation or PMT/PMS, it excludes us as women in a fundamental way. I should be careful here because my brother polled his wife (both in America) and her perception was slightly different from the one I tend to observe here in the UK. So what a person means when they say ‘period’ in America might well not be the same thing. Something we all know. And laugh about.
To be fair, the dissenting voices have been far outweighed by those who read my blog or follow the story and find it absolutely silly that my use of the word is somehow not allowed in the minds of some. Anecdotally, society is largely on my side. At least the slice I associate with is, for the most part. Or they’re graceful enough to not worry about it and accept what it means, which is actually just as good. That’s what tolerance means: a respect for a person’s choices when they do no harm to others. They don’t have to like it or agree, but they do have to keep their mouths shut and tolerate it.
I want to join in and be embraced, but I’ll take tolerance if that’s what’s on offer. It’s a start. Most of the people I spoke with from the conflict earlier are fine and we resolved the issue, for now. One I did remove because she said a few other things in the past that made me question whether I really wanted to be that person’s friend. As an aside, Facebook is for actual friends for me. If I find someone isn’t an actual friend I just get rid – something that has been interpreted as hostile or something. But I digress.
Inevitably, some got upset with me and went of their own accord. That saddened me but I did say for them to walk away or I will push them, I didn’t want anyone to leave. I was (am) hormonal, exhausted and emotionally unable to engage in arguments right then. I needed to set up a wall and make the boundaries clear; to get out of crisis. Maybe later there can be a conversation but not then, not now. Persisting to fight was going to burn me out, but I couldn’t back down so that’s what I did.
It also cost me involvement in the burlesque group I was working with. That is very upsetting, and only parallel to what actually happened. But it was a result of my tact. Oh well. I can’t change people. Arguing on the Internet doesn’t change minds, it just polarises people. It creates bad feeling without solving any problems. That’s actually why I just deleted comments and removed people from my list. There was no point – they thought what they thought and it didn’t matter what I felt.
It’s sad to lose a creative outlet. It’s hard to watch people you worked with and respected walk away. It’s hard to cut people away and difficult to live with the hard choices we make. I did the only thing I felt I could; the only thing that I could see would allow me to stay true to myself. And I won.
A costly fight. I lost friends, a social group, possibly the respect of others. I feel very alone, but I promised I would use the word and accept the contempt. Period. I’m on my period. It’s nearly over, actually – only lasts three to five days and it’s day three. Saying so with that word is part of my identity. Part of what makes me who I am. And people showed me contempt, disbelief, rejection. I’m not happy to leave those people behind and cut away that outlet. I’m not proud of myself. I’m hurt. I’m tired.
But I was true to myself. I looked everyone in the face and told them no. No, this is important. No, this is me. I will not bend.
I fought and I won.
Transience 