In faceblind news of the day

I cannot reliably visually tell the difference between P!nk and David Bowie in spite of the tits. This is largely because in the context of L's tumblr, I expect people with that style & colour of hair to be Bowie.

(Questions about faceblindness very welcome!)

Why I'm not reading #TransDocFail

[Twitter hashtag. Zoe's round-up of the lowlights. Sarah's article in the Guardian.]

I'm not reading #TransDocFail because it hurts too much. I am talking about this today because of Julie Burchill; sebastienne has written a fantastic letter and made it easy for you to go to the Press Complaints Commission. I can't stomach doing that, today, but please do consider it.

Here's the background: I'm genderqueer, and I have stage IV endometriosis. The latter means I've got a consultant gynaecologist as part of my medical team. (I am light-headed, hyperventilating and full of adrenaline already at this point in the post. This should give you some indication as to why I'm not reading in more depth.) The first medical professional I ever came out to about my gender was my consultant gynae, way back in, oh, March or April 2010. His reaction was beautiful and perfect: "Oh, so you won't mind if I neuter you, then," he said, grinning - and proceeded to offer me androgens as an option once we'd run through some of the more standard treatments with a lower risk of destroying my liver.

The process for getting a referral to a Gender Identity Clinic (GIC) in the UK is byzantine at best. First you need to go and see your GP, who needs to refer you to your Community Mental Health Team or equivalent for assessment of your overall mental health; from there, you might theoretically - eventually - be referred to a GIC. If your Primary Care Trust (PCT) is willing to provide funding without a fight - which Cambridgeshire PCT is famously bad at doing.

Back in 2010, I felt like taking on the kyriarchy. Back in 2010, I had a consultant who was willing to sort out hysterectomy and androgens for me. I thought it was important for me, in my position of relative privilege, to try getting through the system as a genderqueer person without lying, without claiming to be male, and so on: because if GICs are willing to treat genderqueer people, PCTs should damn well be willing to fund them.

So off I went to my GP, and this, I am afraid, is where it starts to get bad.

[Content notes: nearly three year of sexism, medical paternalism, and suicide.]

( Long. Content notes: nearly three years of cissexism, medical paternalism, and suicide. )

Since sending them that last letter, I heard nothing for many months until I e-mailed to enquire about follow-up. I've since been assured, several times, by an actually-lovely receptionist, that a response is "being finalised" and will "go in the post any day now"; so far, I've seen neither hide nor hair of it.

Given the above, I'm not actually expecting it to improve matters, either.

And that, ladies and gentlemen and everyone else, is why I haven't been reading about Julie Burchill, and why I haven't been keeping up to date with #TransDocFail, because my ongoing personal experiences in this area are too much of a disaster for me to face reading more about mistreatment of other trans* people.