#lgbtqthings

The Conservative Party of Canada, which is the official opposition party (AKA the party with the second most votes) and has a solid chance of forming the government in the next election, held a convention where they voted overwhelmingly in favour of creating policies to stop gender-affirming medical care for minors (link)

They also officially voted to define "woman" as "female person" and try to stop trans women from being in women's prisons, shelters, locker rooms, and washrooms

Multiple provincial governments are either enacting policies that would require parents' approval in order for trans kids to change their names or pronouns at school, or have officially said that they support forcibly outing kids (link)

A nonbinary teacher in Quebec received threats of violence for using pronoun "Mx" and other Quebec provincial parties complained about "wokeism" and said they wouldn't use the title (link)

And this doesn't include the homophobic & transphobic protests outside pride events throughout the summer or the "Save Our Children" convoy that's being planned for later this month (link), or the tons of shitty things that have happened all through this year, like tons of Ontario trans people (including me!) losing healthcare.

I'm trying to stay as optimistic as possible, knowing just how many trans people and allies there are, but sometimes! It's hard!

Anyways, if you're Canadian, please consider:

Getting involved in local, municipal politics, especially on school boards, to speak out about the need for gender-affirming policies, especially for youth

Showing up (with an organized, prepared group) to counter-protest anti-trans protesters

Keeping track of any anti- or pro-trans bills going around and contacting your MPs & MPPs to let them know what you think of them

Supporting 2SLGBTQ+ charities

Literally never ever voting conservative

[ID: a poem in two screenshots. The poem reads:

Long after I’d found deliverance in a suit and tie, I kept my old dresses. Back of the closet, not quite out of sight — that guilt never quite out of mind.

How could I bear to throw out these beautiful gifts? (That I never wore) Hadn’t I wanted them? (Hadn’t I wanted to want them?) Hadn’t I been excited to receive them? (Hadn’t I watched in the mirror as a pretty stranger put them on, constricted in flowing skirts?)

Maybe I’d want them some day. I’d show myself off to my family. “Look how happy I am with what you gave me.” “I’m not ungrateful.” “You knew me so well.” I never did.

I’ve got great boobs, in my lesbian opinion. I can’t hate them when I look in the mirror. Size, shape, weight — stalwart against months of testosterone, years of binding, more than a decade of their wrongness clawing at me, even as I prayed to want them.

Won’t I like them someday? Won’t I want to feed a child? Won’t my lovers like them? Shouldn’t I feel grateful?

I gave away my dresses, in the end — to my then-girlfriend, to my sister, to charity; heart whole to see someone else want them. My chest aches to do the same: give its breasts to one who’ll treat them well, with a user’s guide. “Yeah, they’ll hurt before your period, but they’re sensitive too, if you like that. Don’t forget to wash under them in the summer.”

A Double Incision Mastectomy With Free Nipple Grafts (top surgery) doesn’t work like that — uses most of the breasts to make a new chest. Hardly enough left over for a woman in need, only enough to turn my fantastic boobs into flat pecs (As scissors cut up dresses to make vests) (As needles stitch button-down shirts from old skirts.)

And maybe— maybe I loved the unwanted fabric of my body enough to give it strength to become something else. Not a giveaway, but a transformation.

End ID.]

Radical mastectomies were a treatment for breast cancer that's "rarely done now" — it involves removing "the entire breast, axillary (underarm) lymph nodes, and the pectoral (chest wall) muscles under the breast" (American Cancer Society). Nowadays, less invasive options are considered just as effective treatment options in most cases.

On the other hand, in the double-incision/bilaterial mastectomy type of top surgery, "the most widely-used technique," "the muscle itself is not touched" — just the tissue, sometimes excess skin, and sometimes nipples if the patient doesn't want them (topsurgery.net). Obviously, that makes it significantly less invasive. Someone getting surgery for gender affirmation wouldn't need or want to remove their pectoral muscles.

Anyone claiming that any top surgery is akin to something that literally removes muscle and is only used rarely for severe breast cancer is probably deliberately trying to make transitioning seem more extreme than it is, especially by using the term "radical." Either that, or they've been lied to by someone who's fear-mongering. Either way, proceed with caution.

Because I spent so, so many years of my adolescence questioning whether I was queer and what identities might fit, and during all that, I felt like I had no right to queer spaces or even tentative feelings of solidarity. Even when I knew I was attracted to women but not sure about anything else, I felt like I was intruding on any queer conversations because I didn’t have a fixed “place” in the community, because I wasn’t sure. I was so terrified to get it “wrong,” so worried I was “tricking” people if it turned out I was not actually queer. 

My questioning process was painful and lonely when it could and should have been a celebration of discovery, aided by a supportive community. 

So if you’re questioning your orientation and/or gender, no matter how long you’ve been thinking about it, no matter what your history is, no matter what identities you’re questioning (including, of course, ace-spec & aro-spec identities):

You’re part of the LGBTQ+ community. 

You belong here. 

You’re important to other queer people, and your voice is valuable. 

If it turns out you’re not queer, your time in our community will still have been valid and valuable, because questioning people are inherently part of our community. 

And I desperately don’t want to set it up as some sort of test or ultimatum for them, like “(try to) use my name/pronouns or you don’t respect me” because I don’t want to know if people don’t respect me and my nonbinary identity! I’d rather keep my head in the sand about that, honestly, especially when it comes to people I care about and respect — it hurts to realize that some of those people don’t want to put the effort into learning to address me in a way that makes me comfortable.

But at the same time, I weigh those realizations against all the times that people have shown me how much they respect me being nonbinary; how glad some people are to learn ways to make me more comfortable; how much I feel seen, acknowledged, and present when people use my correct name and pronouns. 

Before each big coming out, I’ve wondered if the joy of people addressing me as me is worth the pain of realizing that some people won’t want to do that.