Portia
#DrewBlood
30k Posts
10k Posts
TheBrownDog
Port Adelaide - Jesse Palmer Player Sponsor 2017
Podcaster
Port Adelaide - Riley Bonner Player Sponsor 2016
Port Adelaide - Brendon AhChee Player Sponsor 2014
Port Adelaide - Jarrad Redden Player Sponsor 2014
Port Adelaide - Matthew Broadbent Player Sponsor 2013
Port Adelaide - Captains Club 2012 Sponsor
Port Adelaide - John Butcher 2012 Player Sponsor
- Oct 7, 2001
- 50,502
- 24,862
- AFL Club
- Port Adelaide
- Other Teams
- Muckbuckle Dolmens
Hello!. This is post 40,000 since I joined in 2001 which is, yeah, a lot, but I feel somewhat gratified that a few people have overtaken me on the way. I'll admit I kind of wonder what has them so ****ed up that they post that much, because I thought my issues were a doozy already.
Anyway, this milestone is being built up for some reason, so I’m going to take the plunge and share some stuff with you that a little voice is shouting that I shouldn’t. I try not to listen to little voices any more, seeing as they are so consistently wrong. Imagine briefly, if you will, that I am George Costanza (link). Then completely delete that image, it’ll just confuse you through the rest of this.
<---If you are happy with me being only a faceless one-liner factory, leave this thread now--->
Good? Right. Secondary warning, if you get loopy about gender stuff, or are homophobic, or have really right wing religious views, well, that must suck for you, bad luck, and please leave the thread also. Last chance.
Third warning, its a bit TMI, sorry. This is your real last chance.
Ok...so. I am a transgendered woman. I was born with male bits, but in my brain, and in perception, I have always been female. Yeah, I know. Yes, definitely. Anyway, keep reading!
The science (sorta)
Um, all right, just gimme one moment. Its the...the um...the, uh...there is no one science bit, its just the vibe of the thing. I’m just starting general and then I’ll get more specific...just (jesus, I am sweating here!). Its the vibe of it!
In essence, when storks are delivering babies to mummy and daddy, brain development happens at a later stage than sexual organ development, so if there's a hormonal imbalance in the mother at the crucial stage, you can get alternate-gendered development of sexual identity (and/or sexuality). I don't really understand it to be honest, and some of it may be wrong on some level, but all I know for sure is that transsexuality is a real thing. Its not some choice that people make, its not some sexual fetish for the jaded, or anything like that. It also doesn’t mean you have to around dressed like RuPaul or <insert drag icon here>, you can in fact probably wear jeans and a nice cardi and, you know, just be a woman.
Isn't gender a construct? Yada yada yada, more questions.
For general questions that could be dumped on any transgendered woman, follow this link. It is pretty TMI, but yeah well, you wanted to know right? - http://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/03/27/13-myths-and-misconceptions-about-trans-women/
All right, but what about you? How did you know? What is the deal?
I've known I was in the wrong gender since I was about 9, when the gender wall for kids really started going up, and social segregation by physical sex reared its ugly head. Fate placed me on the wrong side of the fence, and rather than question why that had happened, I berated myself for being the odd one out. I convinced myself that I was fundamentally flawed and that it was all my fault. I was a bad person. But, I also worked out pretty quickly that I could never tell anyone what the problem was - any time I stepped out of line with gender roles, I was quickly hammered into place by just about everyone. To 9ish-year-old me, it looked like it must be a pretty bad thing to be a girl who is stuck as a boy. As such, I invented the career of Guy Impersonator, and I got pretty good at it.
Sidenote: It turns out that burying secrets is a family tradition on both sides, as is being pathetically unhappy because of not wanting to upset the applecart in order to chase what you really want. I'm exploring new territory here, which is more than a bit intimidating!
At the start, I plain sucked at acting like a guy. I didn't have the right aptitudes, or interests, or skills (and still mostly don’t). I didn't think my way through problems the same way as guys I know do (and still definitely don't), and I knew it, so I learned that the safest thing to do was to overcompensate. When I got hassled for how I walked, I taught myself to walk like I was constantly stomping on ants. I developed a fantastic `bus scowl' that made potential bullies think I was constantly ready to go off...which I was to be honest – my testosterone-fueled temper scared the crap out of me, I felt completely out of control. Its disturbing just to remember how it felt, to be honest.
I also started self-censoring to cut out anything I might say that could interpreted as not being `standard male', which led to me being perceived as shy and antisocial when I decided the best option was to not say anything at all. I'd pretend I liked things I didn't if they fit the narrative, and that anything remotely girly was horrible and not to be touched.
This didn't stop in adulthood. I have at times carried on like a marginally-evolved neanderthal in my efforts to expunge any vestiges of femininity from my public persona, and was once `complimented’ for getting through a lengthy conversation without using any actual words at all.
Things started coming to a head after my mother's death a couple of years ago, when I pretty much hit rock bottom. I was depressed (and had been my whole life, without treatment), increasingly fat, and so lonely that the word `lonely' didn't mean anything any more... but at least I was living up to society's expectations, right? Like that even mattered. For so long I thought it did matter, because of how my family would be affected if I varied from the plan, but in hindsight, it was a cowardly and weak way to live, and yeah, I have to accept that. Anyway, that big event inspired a lot of contemplation about how I was living my life, but I’m almost through the looking glass now, and I feel great.
Now
Since I’ve taken steps into transition (and I am right in the middle of the most awkward part of it right now), things have really been looking up. Even bad days are good days now, where they previously were just horrible. I’m closer to family than I’ve ever been before, and I’ll put money on being the official favourite aunty within 2 years. Without gender-based self-censoring, I jabber on in conversation as prolifically as I post here instead of being totally antisocial, and in summary I get to live a life now. It sounds good, right? It is!
So, seeing as people I actually know are getting to know the real me, and they don’t appear to recoil in horror so far, I thought I’d give the collection of druggies, psychopaths, perverts and confirmed barbecuers that make up the Port Bigfooty board a bit of a view as well.
Anyway, thats enough personal stuff. I hear that you're not supposed to say personal stuff on the internet, even with a thin layer of anonymity, but I'm breaking every other rule, so * it. I just hope I don’t need a team of bodyguards to protect me from death threats like I was some high-profile stage magician.
OK, so shut up then and get on with the football bit
OK, OK! Settle, petal!
Me and Port Adelaide.
When we got a letter from the club after Port won the 2nd SANFL sublicense, I was barely interested in football at all. I didn't understand it (not having had it explained to me by any of the meathead PE teachers whose souls I had destroyed over the years), and had only been to about 10 Magpies games in my life before then. But, here was a `new' team where I wouldn't have to hear about ancient footballers I had no way of knowing anything about (I still don't really know anything about Bruce Light, Bull Reval or Chicken Hayes), and I figured becoming a Port fan was an opportunity to advance my campaign of gender overcompensation, so I committed to going to Power games when we entered the AFL.
Sidenote: I was delighted to find out just how little most guys actually know about football, a sport they often claim to follow and watch every week. I think its because junior training/school PE was all about fitness and skills, with little emphasis on how to win the game, or small-scale tactics, or how contesting really works. Getting nerdy kids into the game is one thing US sports seem to do pretty well, we suck by comparison.
Following Port has been really very satisfying for me over the journey, which for me didn't really, really start until Scott Hodges' miracle goal in 1996. The noise from the crowd that day was pure bedlam, with everyone going off their nut (except the Legs fans that left early), but I was completely calm; somehow I knew that we would win that game, like I was in a bubble of absolute clarity. I don't know where that faith came from, but that faith that has irrevocably stuck me with this club, no matter how much I may bitch and moan about how cruel my fate is.
I feel that if I ever made a decision to not follow Port, I would be denying that there was ever anything special about the club, and I just can't do that. I guess this is why I don’t feel betrayed when I see people genuinely stop supporting. I feel genuinely sorry for them, because they don’t get what is so special – and its why I became alarmed when I noticed my own enthusiasm waning. We need to see something special again; not just a win, something else, I’m not sure what.
If I had to distil the thing that I think makes Port the so uniquely great, and that I draw inspiration from, it is the commitment to personal excellence intrinsic to the Creed and how the club has previously comported itself. I feel that this commitment could be a real rallying point for supporters, because everyone in the world can respond to a call to be the best they can be, at whatever it is they want to be. If you're rising to the top of your career, if you double-down with charity work outside of your regular work, if you are the world's greatest mum, if you grow champion roses, or even if you just commit to doing the most wicked burnouts in your Subaru WRX, you are committing to achieving some form of greatness. And if you fall short, its not good enough to let that happen because you didn't try - there is great endeavour in trying your hardest even when you fail. So for me, that means not being a pathetic wretch playing it safe, but showing a bit of courage and becoming the woman I’ve always known I was supposed to be. OK, back to football.
(Of course, there is a second bit in an important Fos Williams' quote about clearing out the no-hopers, which is also important, but even no-hopers that genuinely tried to be the best they could be, deserve some respect under the Creed.)
Me and Bigfooty
Before Bigfooty, I was just an obnoxious twerp in an IRC channel with about 20 regular visitors, but then suddenly I could share my obnoxious twerp persona with the world! It was an exciting time. It still is, and I like how the group of people has evolved over time. For a while I think we were in danger of becoming a duplicate `The Power From Port', but intelligence and comedic instinct won through in the end, and I think this board comprises the most aware collection of supporters of any AFL club. There is an intellectual challenge every day, and endless opportunities to pontificate or crack wise, and as you can guess I absolutely love it
You may have noticed that I have probably been more overly ocker & explicit on the boards lately..its a bit like getting the maximum wear out of a pair of ill-fitting shoes before you bin them. I might tone it down a bit, but probably not, there is no trans-feral, I’m probably stuck with it haha.
Anyway, I've definitely opened myself up for a bit of ridicule by admitting all this stuff, and quite honestly, I couldn’t argue that I don’t deserve a little, but to be even more honest I also don't really care if someone decides to have a go, because I'm slowly getting to be OK with who I am.
I know that at times I've gone a bit too far with venomous posts, and sometimes I snipe without real malice as I've come up with an outrageously snarky comment that just has to be posted. Its involuntary. Anyway, sorry about that to anyone I've offended - except Freo fans, * Freo, Freo are the Blue Light Disco of football clubs.
I guess I sort of know someone with gender issues now! I think that I/my child/my partner/a friend has these sorts of issues, can you help?
Er...maybe? This Reddit subsite is good for asking questions anonymously, and organisations like Shine SA have solid counselling services, but if you want to drop me a PM, OK. I can't promise that I'll reply with the same unique blend of speed and endurance as I do to people trying to claim that Brett Ebert hasn't had a fair go, but I will reply!
Final request: If any of you mob know/have somehow worked out who I am off of Bigfooty, keep it under your hats for now please, this whole thing is still a bit sub rosa. Thanks!
Now I’m going for a long walk, as I haven’t been this nervous since the 2004 prelim. Seeya...
Anyway, this milestone is being built up for some reason, so I’m going to take the plunge and share some stuff with you that a little voice is shouting that I shouldn’t. I try not to listen to little voices any more, seeing as they are so consistently wrong. Imagine briefly, if you will, that I am George Costanza (link). Then completely delete that image, it’ll just confuse you through the rest of this.
<---If you are happy with me being only a faceless one-liner factory, leave this thread now--->
Good? Right. Secondary warning, if you get loopy about gender stuff, or are homophobic, or have really right wing religious views, well, that must suck for you, bad luck, and please leave the thread also. Last chance.
Third warning, its a bit TMI, sorry. This is your real last chance.
Ok...so. I am a transgendered woman. I was born with male bits, but in my brain, and in perception, I have always been female. Yeah, I know. Yes, definitely. Anyway, keep reading!
The science (sorta)
Um, all right, just gimme one moment. Its the...the um...the, uh...there is no one science bit, its just the vibe of the thing. I’m just starting general and then I’ll get more specific...just (jesus, I am sweating here!). Its the vibe of it!
In essence, when storks are delivering babies to mummy and daddy, brain development happens at a later stage than sexual organ development, so if there's a hormonal imbalance in the mother at the crucial stage, you can get alternate-gendered development of sexual identity (and/or sexuality). I don't really understand it to be honest, and some of it may be wrong on some level, but all I know for sure is that transsexuality is a real thing. Its not some choice that people make, its not some sexual fetish for the jaded, or anything like that. It also doesn’t mean you have to around dressed like RuPaul or <insert drag icon here>, you can in fact probably wear jeans and a nice cardi and, you know, just be a woman.
Isn't gender a construct? Yada yada yada, more questions.
For general questions that could be dumped on any transgendered woman, follow this link. It is pretty TMI, but yeah well, you wanted to know right? - http://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/03/27/13-myths-and-misconceptions-about-trans-women/
All right, but what about you? How did you know? What is the deal?
I've known I was in the wrong gender since I was about 9, when the gender wall for kids really started going up, and social segregation by physical sex reared its ugly head. Fate placed me on the wrong side of the fence, and rather than question why that had happened, I berated myself for being the odd one out. I convinced myself that I was fundamentally flawed and that it was all my fault. I was a bad person. But, I also worked out pretty quickly that I could never tell anyone what the problem was - any time I stepped out of line with gender roles, I was quickly hammered into place by just about everyone. To 9ish-year-old me, it looked like it must be a pretty bad thing to be a girl who is stuck as a boy. As such, I invented the career of Guy Impersonator, and I got pretty good at it.
Sidenote: It turns out that burying secrets is a family tradition on both sides, as is being pathetically unhappy because of not wanting to upset the applecart in order to chase what you really want. I'm exploring new territory here, which is more than a bit intimidating!
At the start, I plain sucked at acting like a guy. I didn't have the right aptitudes, or interests, or skills (and still mostly don’t). I didn't think my way through problems the same way as guys I know do (and still definitely don't), and I knew it, so I learned that the safest thing to do was to overcompensate. When I got hassled for how I walked, I taught myself to walk like I was constantly stomping on ants. I developed a fantastic `bus scowl' that made potential bullies think I was constantly ready to go off...which I was to be honest – my testosterone-fueled temper scared the crap out of me, I felt completely out of control. Its disturbing just to remember how it felt, to be honest.
I also started self-censoring to cut out anything I might say that could interpreted as not being `standard male', which led to me being perceived as shy and antisocial when I decided the best option was to not say anything at all. I'd pretend I liked things I didn't if they fit the narrative, and that anything remotely girly was horrible and not to be touched.
This didn't stop in adulthood. I have at times carried on like a marginally-evolved neanderthal in my efforts to expunge any vestiges of femininity from my public persona, and was once `complimented’ for getting through a lengthy conversation without using any actual words at all.
Things started coming to a head after my mother's death a couple of years ago, when I pretty much hit rock bottom. I was depressed (and had been my whole life, without treatment), increasingly fat, and so lonely that the word `lonely' didn't mean anything any more... but at least I was living up to society's expectations, right? Like that even mattered. For so long I thought it did matter, because of how my family would be affected if I varied from the plan, but in hindsight, it was a cowardly and weak way to live, and yeah, I have to accept that. Anyway, that big event inspired a lot of contemplation about how I was living my life, but I’m almost through the looking glass now, and I feel great.
Now
Since I’ve taken steps into transition (and I am right in the middle of the most awkward part of it right now), things have really been looking up. Even bad days are good days now, where they previously were just horrible. I’m closer to family than I’ve ever been before, and I’ll put money on being the official favourite aunty within 2 years. Without gender-based self-censoring, I jabber on in conversation as prolifically as I post here instead of being totally antisocial, and in summary I get to live a life now. It sounds good, right? It is!
So, seeing as people I actually know are getting to know the real me, and they don’t appear to recoil in horror so far, I thought I’d give the collection of druggies, psychopaths, perverts and confirmed barbecuers that make up the Port Bigfooty board a bit of a view as well.
Anyway, thats enough personal stuff. I hear that you're not supposed to say personal stuff on the internet, even with a thin layer of anonymity, but I'm breaking every other rule, so * it. I just hope I don’t need a team of bodyguards to protect me from death threats like I was some high-profile stage magician.
OK, so shut up then and get on with the football bit
OK, OK! Settle, petal!
Me and Port Adelaide.
When we got a letter from the club after Port won the 2nd SANFL sublicense, I was barely interested in football at all. I didn't understand it (not having had it explained to me by any of the meathead PE teachers whose souls I had destroyed over the years), and had only been to about 10 Magpies games in my life before then. But, here was a `new' team where I wouldn't have to hear about ancient footballers I had no way of knowing anything about (I still don't really know anything about Bruce Light, Bull Reval or Chicken Hayes), and I figured becoming a Port fan was an opportunity to advance my campaign of gender overcompensation, so I committed to going to Power games when we entered the AFL.
Sidenote: I was delighted to find out just how little most guys actually know about football, a sport they often claim to follow and watch every week. I think its because junior training/school PE was all about fitness and skills, with little emphasis on how to win the game, or small-scale tactics, or how contesting really works. Getting nerdy kids into the game is one thing US sports seem to do pretty well, we suck by comparison.
Following Port has been really very satisfying for me over the journey, which for me didn't really, really start until Scott Hodges' miracle goal in 1996. The noise from the crowd that day was pure bedlam, with everyone going off their nut (except the Legs fans that left early), but I was completely calm; somehow I knew that we would win that game, like I was in a bubble of absolute clarity. I don't know where that faith came from, but that faith that has irrevocably stuck me with this club, no matter how much I may bitch and moan about how cruel my fate is.
I feel that if I ever made a decision to not follow Port, I would be denying that there was ever anything special about the club, and I just can't do that. I guess this is why I don’t feel betrayed when I see people genuinely stop supporting. I feel genuinely sorry for them, because they don’t get what is so special – and its why I became alarmed when I noticed my own enthusiasm waning. We need to see something special again; not just a win, something else, I’m not sure what.
If I had to distil the thing that I think makes Port the so uniquely great, and that I draw inspiration from, it is the commitment to personal excellence intrinsic to the Creed and how the club has previously comported itself. I feel that this commitment could be a real rallying point for supporters, because everyone in the world can respond to a call to be the best they can be, at whatever it is they want to be. If you're rising to the top of your career, if you double-down with charity work outside of your regular work, if you are the world's greatest mum, if you grow champion roses, or even if you just commit to doing the most wicked burnouts in your Subaru WRX, you are committing to achieving some form of greatness. And if you fall short, its not good enough to let that happen because you didn't try - there is great endeavour in trying your hardest even when you fail. So for me, that means not being a pathetic wretch playing it safe, but showing a bit of courage and becoming the woman I’ve always known I was supposed to be. OK, back to football.
(Of course, there is a second bit in an important Fos Williams' quote about clearing out the no-hopers, which is also important, but even no-hopers that genuinely tried to be the best they could be, deserve some respect under the Creed.)
Me and Bigfooty
Before Bigfooty, I was just an obnoxious twerp in an IRC channel with about 20 regular visitors, but then suddenly I could share my obnoxious twerp persona with the world! It was an exciting time. It still is, and I like how the group of people has evolved over time. For a while I think we were in danger of becoming a duplicate `The Power From Port', but intelligence and comedic instinct won through in the end, and I think this board comprises the most aware collection of supporters of any AFL club. There is an intellectual challenge every day, and endless opportunities to pontificate or crack wise, and as you can guess I absolutely love it
You may have noticed that I have probably been more overly ocker & explicit on the boards lately..its a bit like getting the maximum wear out of a pair of ill-fitting shoes before you bin them. I might tone it down a bit, but probably not, there is no trans-feral, I’m probably stuck with it haha.
Anyway, I've definitely opened myself up for a bit of ridicule by admitting all this stuff, and quite honestly, I couldn’t argue that I don’t deserve a little, but to be even more honest I also don't really care if someone decides to have a go, because I'm slowly getting to be OK with who I am.
I know that at times I've gone a bit too far with venomous posts, and sometimes I snipe without real malice as I've come up with an outrageously snarky comment that just has to be posted. Its involuntary. Anyway, sorry about that to anyone I've offended - except Freo fans, * Freo, Freo are the Blue Light Disco of football clubs.
I guess I sort of know someone with gender issues now! I think that I/my child/my partner/a friend has these sorts of issues, can you help?
Er...maybe? This Reddit subsite is good for asking questions anonymously, and organisations like Shine SA have solid counselling services, but if you want to drop me a PM, OK. I can't promise that I'll reply with the same unique blend of speed and endurance as I do to people trying to claim that Brett Ebert hasn't had a fair go, but I will reply!
Final request: If any of you mob know/have somehow worked out who I am off of Bigfooty, keep it under your hats for now please, this whole thing is still a bit sub rosa. Thanks!
Now I’m going for a long walk, as I haven’t been this nervous since the 2004 prelim. Seeya...
