You know me as Fen: male, thirtiesh, dark hair, primarily attracted to men but also love women. I’m politically inclined (liberal), generous to friends (and sometimes to strangers), sarcastic, and have a wicked sense of humor. I love my dog, Suki, live in Florida (dream come true!), write books, edit for a living, and take photographs of my world.
Not all of the above is true, and I have lately had an epiphany that prompts me to come out in a way I never have before. To borrow from Edmond Manning’s beautiful series of books, I’m going to king myself. I have the power, and I’m not waiting for Vin to show up and do it. I am a found king.
The tagline on the blog says “Let me tell you a story….” It’s the internet, folks, where no one knows you’re a cat. Everyone thinks they know me, but arguably, they don’t know the most important thing about me. I’ve been keeping a big secret, and now I’m stepping out into the light. It’s time. Oh, and AJ Rose, whom I will love forever, knew and went along with this for reasons of her own.
I’ve reached a stage in my personal and professional life that requires I gather all my bravery, all my courage, and say this aloud no matter what it costs me. Yes, I’m terrified. It feels like my head is in a vice as I write this.
I’ve tried to tell people in my real life and gotten a wide variety of reactions, not all of them good. Some looked at me like I was nuts. A few didn’t believe me. Others ignored my words as if they hadn’t been said.
Coming out is never easy, but here goes: I was born female.
You’ve all heard this: Sex is between the legs, gender is between the ears.
I was treated by everyone as a girl despite feeling male a lot of the time. Not all the time, I hasten to say. I was gender fluid, though I didn’t know it then. I didn’t play with dolls (boring!) or cook or bake, but I liked wearing dresses sometimes. I wore jeans a lot, and that was okay. Girls could dress like boys and no one thought it was a crime or even strange.
I was the typical tomboy, except I wasn’t going through a phase. I loved building tree forts, playing war with rubber-band guns, and wrestling. I trapped gophers with the best of ’em, and cut off their back legs without a qualm. I didn’t like hunting much–still won’t do it–but I loved to fish and threading worms on the hook was my job. At one time, in my mid-teens, I could fillet a sunny like an expert.
Girls were too prissy for me most of the time. Sure, I spent time with them; everyone saw me as 100 percent female. But their games weren’t challenging enough. I always wanted to hang with the guys. My parents had a lake cabin, and my favorite friend up there was a girl who was more masculine than feminine, like me. We’d go off in the canoe and be boys together. The girly part of me manifests in my desire to wear skirts and sparkly things, not in attitude or outlook. My brain is mostly wired boy, not girl.
My biggest regret growing up biologically female? I couldn’t piss standing up (I’ve since rectified that, but that’s another story) and when I got old enough, I wanted to be the fuckor, not the fuckee. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but I’ve had a life-long battle with my sexuality and how to express it, and not just with the gender issue.
But wait! There’s more! Sound like a Ginsu knife commercial? Yeah, well, I’m freaking out a little here. Gotta inject some humor.
I’m not thirty-three. I’m sixty-two. There are reasons why I chose to be that age online, one of them being I feel that young inside–actually, I feel twenty-eight–but I’m not going to get into that now. I’d show you a picture of myself–I have one I really like at my most girly (long long hair I’ve since chopped really short)–but it will just confuse everyone.
Because in every way that matters, I am Fen. That guy in the avi wearing the hoodie? That’s how I see myself. That’s me. I don’t give a shit what’s between my legs. Those bits of flesh aren’t who I am. In my mind, I have balls and a cock. Even when I slide over into feeling female, the male parts are still there in my mind.
You get my ideas, my opinions, and my passion. I am exactly who you think I am… except the body I was born in is not the one I would have chosen for myself.
You also get the best stories I can write, and as an author, that’s all I owe you. But a funny thing happened along the way to publishing several books: I became friends with many of you, and I don’t want to hide anymore.
This is me: I am Fen. I write. I take pictures. I am male. I am also female. I am gender fluid. It took me almost an entire lifetime to recognize and then accept this, but I’m happy now. I’m at peace. I know who I am, and I wanted you to know, too.
Please refer to me using male pronouns. I’m leaving comments on in case you want to say something.
Also, please visit AJ for her side of things.