Being Transsexual in a Hate filled Movement

I have never felt more at odds with a community

Transsexual. This word is the identity I have used for thirty years. A word that has helped me figure out why I was such a mess. Why I could not function in the world. A diagnosis that helped me figure out my disorder, and it is called gender dysphoria.

There is a new movement inside a community I once felt so a part of. An evil force is taking over a space that has saved lives for a very long time. I use this term evil force because it feels as though something has consumed the ability for a healthy dialogue among a diversity of voices, which make up our community. What a hard thing for me to write. What a THING for me to write.

I do not think of myself as a writer. Please bear with me while I scramble to write my thoughts and my desire to speak up in a new world where this is frowned upon. Where you get called names and shoved in a corner to think about what you have done. The dominance that has become the “Trans Movement” is a hateful group of people who care only about their plan. Spreading lies in order to further an agenda.

Hurt. I am hurt. I cannot even believe this is a movement. A disorder I have in now a movement? I can no longer call myself a transsexual because a bunch of people who call themselves trans and have nothing in alignment with me tell me I am old, and antiquated. That I am transphobic for even questioning them. HOW! I scream with frustration. I am hurt but try not to show it.

Here I will write my thoughts as a sixty-year-old transsexual man. I hope you learn from me as another voice of trans, as a voice that will show you another side. I have no choice but to stand up if I do not like what I see. It is my duty as not only an elder but as a person who has benefitted from the transition.

Love, Buck