:Neutrois Niche:

Tag: dysphoria

go f…. yourself, sexuals (politically not correct, but honest)

I just blocked a person/site/group of people from my twitter account.


I don’t remember the name, something like sexual health and somethig with fantasy   (= {in other words}, SHIT [for me]).


Why would a sexual site like this follow me on twitter? Was it just a random follow, or did someone actually sit there and wonder whether to follow my twitter account and then decide it was a good idea?

It was probably some random commercial act, like people shuffling through the phone book to make calls to unsuspecting people to try and sell whatever it is they have or work for whomever they are working for.

I’ve always wondered how sexual people could take any interest in someone who is asexual, antisexual, celibate. Perhaps it’s rather a case of them wanting us to be interested in them, ’cause in the end, everyone is always interested in them and it cannot be otherwise. If it is, then they’ll make sure it isn’t.


What sexuals should really do is go f… sex.


The art of negotiating

It seems to me that every trans person needs some skills in negotiating. The terms of our existence are far from fixed, but ocassionally shift, sometimes in our favour, and sometimes in another direction.

A trans person is also lucky if they know some trans law and a way to communicate to people in positions of power. A trans person is like a fish swimming in an endless sea, trying to get back to where they live, a safe space that they call home, whilst trying to avoid all the nets and other traps set in place to capture and dissect them or even tear them apart.

How to negotiate an identity: First, get someone else, who does not know you and has never been an important part in your life but is considered a specialist to judge you and hope they judge in your favour.

Second, make sure you have enough money to pay to people who will then go on and tell you who you are or who you are supposed to be. If surgery is required, make sure the funds extend to that point where your body is cut open and revealed to complete strangers who then reshape it according to the terms that have been set.

Make sure you have time to run around here and there and confront people all the time on your identity, who cannot believe it is really so and would like to steer you in a certain direction or at least understand you. Be aware that what they call understanding might not be what you might call understanding, and their way of empathising with you might differ from what you would expect. Be aware that if they cannot believe in your type, they cannot understand.

Be prepared to get what you are given, to take what you can. Name change, fine. Under what conditions…you decide on which name? A neutral one, they say, but neutral does not exist. A name such as Alex or something like that. To me, that’s not a neutral name. In a gender-obsessed culture there is no neutral. This does not mean that I am less of a neutral. Just because nobody sees me does not mean I don’t exist. Just because nobody understands my language does not mean that I am not communicating. People just have not come to terms with me yet.

Negotiating is frustrating, when you have no tools at your disposal to help you out, to give you authority or to justify yourself. There is not much evidence I can use to justify my claims of being trans.

I believe I am transsexual. Just not the traditional type that wants to swap one gender role for another. My gender role does apparently not exist yet, eventhough I as a person exist alongside my gender.

Apparently my best option is to lie and cheat my way to some form of resolution that would benefit all parties involved, except mine. Oh, I forgot, I’m not even a minority enough to get credit for being marginalised, because I do not succesfully represent a group and can’t shout as loud as others. I am not represented in the media, my identity scares people more than aids or cancer. But I represent myself. I guess that’s not quite enough.

People make so many assumptions and mistakes and I am to reinforce them by playing along. How do you think that makes me feel? I feel like a criminal trying to escape conviction only to then be free and then serve the sentence of having to perpetually lie to myself and others. I don’t think I am a good liar, even with hours and hours of enforced training and accomplished survival tactics. I am sick of lying and having to defend myself and my core principles when there is really nothing to defend. There is absolutely no logical reason to attack my ideas and beliefs and the way I see myself. Me being Neutrois will not destroy the universe, so why try and keep me in line, in check? I am a good enough little citizen even without your intervention.

What do I need to give and what do I get out of it is the question? I want my freedom to express myself, I want to not get bullied into submission by complete strangers who don’t like me, I want to be left alone to make decisions about myself. But it seems I am not able to, because I will always need a specialist to hold my hand and some authority to approve of me.

I really wonder if this is really what true negotiating is about, what diplomacy is, or if this is just another form of majority rule, where I benefit less from the ruling than my majority counterpart human life forms.

I know what I want. That is also not good enough. I need to know what others want and need first and then fit my desires around their needs. I need to get back into the fold of a crazed social construct and function normally. Apparently my abstinence is an issue. It makes me happier and makes me much healthier (both mentally and physically), yet it must be a problem because others cannot fathom it. I think it wouldn’t be a problem if I had promiscuous unprotected sex, because that at least would better fit the description of trans, or even of a Borderline person who is also trans. But being happy with who I am at this moment, that’s called being diseased.

I am not saying I don’t have many issues, but that does not make it right for people to claim to know my identity and what is good for me and write the rules that govern my life.

I apreciate the help I am getting, but am far from feeling that I have found an advocate for my rights. I have found a person who does not beat me for being who I am, nor send me away, but listens to what I have to say. That is indeed something.

But what usually happens after the short phase of being delighted at having found someone who is versed in trans issues is a bit disappointing. Far from trying to beat the system, they reveal that they are, in fact, a part of it. They like stereotypes and ideals that everyone in the system appreciates and want to uphold. They enjoy priviledge, as anyone would. And they decide how to work with the system to further my rights.

like fifty shades of grey

Is negotiating really about me or is it more about how to become closer to the cis gender? I don’t believe negotiation is a win-win situation, and  it seems to me to come closer to conforming to established rules.

Authorities may be satisfied with the results, but I am still left to negotiate my life. I will still struggle to be seen, and the torment will go on…

several months after surgery and feeling much better.

I am so grateful that I have had surgery. I thank ‘God’ almost everyday for this beautiful new body. Instead of dysphoria, I now feel, months after surgery, a sense of honest euphoria.

Dysphoria had weighed me down so much that I started hating my body and just wanted it to disappear. Instead of just hating seperate body parts, though, the hatred spread and I ended up hating my entire self for having such a body and I loathed myself for even existing.

But now I have been given this chance of reconciling with myself and I am eager to start a soul cleansing process.

I don’t think I am just the body. I am also a soul inhabiting a body. If something I don’t want is done to my body, my soul hurts as well, and, on the other hand, if I remove what annoys me about my body, my soul feels lighter, there is much more headspace and breathing space.

Dysphoria literally tightens your chest so that you have trouble breathing, and it can make you feel physically sick.

Unfortunately I can’t really operate on my soul or take a high powered water gun to rinse all the ingested hatred off. I don’t actually even know where to start to live a spiritually healthier life, but I know that the physical operation on my chest has helped me even contemplate the idea of mending.

I still often wonder whether dysphoria can be completely overcome and thrown in  a proverbial bin.

I am not sure it’s possible, but it can be kept in check and made less vulgar and less of an obstacle.


Can I finally love myself? Is this even a remote possibility?


I don’t know. But I’ll try.


a little ramble about the NaNowriMo meeting: if anyone at the meeting is reading this, remind me next time to talk to you in person about this…

I hate to admit it, but I want to meet people. I go out of my way to meet people.

Yesterday I was half an hour early for the NaNoWriMo meet-up that took place in a cozy cafe in a side street. I looked around and saw a woman eagerly typing on her laptop, with papers strewn everywhere, and I thought that must be what a true writer looked like. I wondered if the people I would meet would also be like that, obsessively writing and only looking up from their oeuvres to take a sip of  their drink or perhaps eat a slice of cake.

I tried to introduce myself, to make sure they at least knew, even just for a split second, that I did not identify as female, and therefore I called myself Dominic, and thereby implying that female pronouns are also black-listed.

It’s quite funny that almost all of ‘us’ write fantasy novels, stories about something extraordinary, or rather out of the ordinary, as they include fable animals or magic, fairy beings and such like. I am also keen on writing a fantasy story, because it opens up different possibilities if I stop being creative. It’s easier to make things up in a fictional world. To me, reality requires too much research.

But what I also find striking is that although many write fiction or fantasy, when confronted with fantastical ideas or transhuman thought, they are not interested. I mentioned that I didn’t have breasts anymore as part of my plea to not call me any female things, and one of them blurted out (it seemed almost involuntary, the response was so fast and sharp): “I’m not interested”.

I wonder why are you sitting here for, then, if it’s not about the people you meet? You are immersed in your writing and that’s great, but I personally wouldn’t come here just cause I can write with other people next to me. I can do that at home, and much more succesfully at that.

I am lucky though, though the people all left without saying a word while I was still in the bathroom, a man with a top hat drove me home cause it’s on the way to where he lives. It was refreshing to hear someone talk as fast as he does and be able to talk about things others might find disturbing..aka: ideas…but one thing did bother me. It only occured to me to be upset when I was already safely home and able to re-create the whole conversation. He basically related to me how he knew a thing or two about bullying and being deprived of his freedom and being different, because he wore hats and these are not fashionable. So he sometimes gets strange looks.     !     . Are you comparing having someone throw your hat in a tree when you were a kid to being transgender, excluded from society, deprived of your identity, doubted, poked, prodeed, raped, villified, accused, killed? (I obviously haven’t been killed yet, so who am I to talk).

Do you think the type of erasure is so similar, middle aged white cis male? (You probably don’t even get the fact that I am trying to stereotype you, too).

Then he talked about one of his most beloved movies, wherein a filmmaker shows stereotypes in a cicrus, people with lost limbs and strange faces, and generally different conditions and talked about this in the context of transsexuality, comparing how similar people reacted to disabled people and to trans people, practically creating a link with disability and being trans.

We all have our priviledges and are all on a quest either to gain them or more of them, or not to loose them. I still have many priviledges so I probably shouldn’t be too upset at people’s offhand remarks, but that’s exactly the point. That people speak their minds so freely abut topics they know shit about, and that they feel content and, moreover, entitled to show their emotions and pry into people’s lives and make judgements or dismiss someone straight out because, well, who represents the norm….? Right, not I.

This guy is divorced and he said his family couldn’t understand how his divorce happened so quickly and without problems, and how the divorced parties could still communicate normally with eachother. He even got criticised for his exemplary behaviour, and why, because it’s unusual. It’s normal to fight, and therefore you’d rather support such behaviour than laud a person for acting differently.

He of all people should understand the fact that we try to shape our world into what we want to see and what we want it to be like. Perhaps he should take another look at me and people who have a gender disconnect and really see what it means to live like that. Perhaps he should take his hat off.


Haven’t found ‘the help’, yet.

So I’ve called yet another psycho(logist) to make an appointment for me and my various personality traits and feelings. Unfortuntely this was another miss, as he’s busy and doesn’t want to put me on a waiting list.

I wonder how long these feeings will follow me for. I feel like I have two heads and a tail with all this baggage I’m carrying. Why can’t I just drop it and leave it?

If life is imaginary, then why is it so difficult to re-imagine it?


Where are our allies?

I recently got transferred into the transit area where I meet many more people from diverse backgrounds and also met new staff members. They were all nice, of course, but nice is not quite enough when one barely exists and is rarely, if ever, seen as an equal.

I don’t mind being patronised when I’m new at work, because it’s true that I need to listen and learn a lot of new things, but stop patronising me because of or in spite of my gender (identity).

There are so many priviledged people and they don’t even know how priviledged they are. Only when this prviledge is taken away do they realise what life can actually be like.

They say they’re so accepting, but their reaction to what I tell them about me is mostly shock or disbelief or even amusement, and most often I have to listen to patronising comments afterward. They say it’s ok to be me and then get pronouns wrong. One woman asked me what my first name was after I had told her, thinking it can’t be true. I wonder why do people not just make up their own names for me like the character Dr. Cox from the TV Show Scrubs does to the character Dorian?!

They say they are accepting of all sorts of sexualities!! Do they consider accepting the fact that I don’t like fucking? No, they don’t understand how sexuality is repulsive to me, how I’d rather protect and nourish my body than use it for someone else’s gratification. How sickening is it that they think I follow the same low standards as them when it comes to what they call ‘love’ and ‘affection’.

These days I openly tell people I am Neutrois and I often add that I am female to eunuch. I want so badly to show them my scars, to tell them what it means for me to be like this, that it means a lot more than just sitting around saying fancy new words for other people’s enterainment.

I can’t believe that they don’t get it!!

One person said at least having no gender is no problem, it’s nothing to get worked up about, really. It’s true, it SHOULDN’T be a problem, but it is. First it’s sensational to be without gender, and after a while nobody cares. After having outed yourself to people and told them personal stuff they just ignore you and get on with their gendered lives and gendering you as if you had never spoken one word about this whole topic and how you are different and you are left to pick up the pieces and try to find some form of positivty elsewhere. And the struggle to exist with your ideals in a place that doesn’t recognise these and denies you ownership of yourself (to a certain extent) continues every single day. Even when I am alone in an empty room, in my apartment, I hear those voices denying me my self.






Dominic vs. God

Trigger Warning: Scars

This is to present my chest and what my idea of a Neutrois chest is. It’s also meant to show that when I talk about me being trans, I mean trans*, when I talk about me being queer, I mean genderqueer, when I talk about being neutral, I mean gender-neutral.

The body is a surface on which we project our emotions and ideas. People get tattoos and piercings ( I myself am a fan of tattoos, not so much piercings), and with the addition of clothing, we are able to communicate and protect our bodies from the weather and ‘immodesty’.

Our bodies are honest, in that they portray our phusical structure. Sometimes we can determine through the way the body lools or moves that a person is ill or has an injury. We can determine, through facial queues, if a person is happy or sad.

But we cannot always know what a person is like, inside of this vessel, without getting to know them firts. It takes time and energy to do so, and often we do not have either or have preceonceived ideas about the person which prevent us from going near them in the first place.

I am trying to make my body more honest by changing it to make it represent more fully and inclusively my ideals and how I picture myself. I have used the power of plastic surgery to modify and edit structures on my body that were giving me unease and failed to represent me and my ideals.

This ‘new’ body feels more natural, eventhough I haven’t had it long, it feels safer, eventhough people might look at me in a more negative light because of it. It feels like it belongs to me more now than it ever did.

Some say if the body is a vessel, and the person really shines through through the soul, therefore one does not need to focus so much on it. But my soul cann’t come through in a body I detest. When I had/have dysphoria I get really depressed and have strong anxiety attacks and even think about death and dying. Surgery has made my life better. I’m not saying it’s the only answer to one’s problems, but it’s not morally wrong and shouldn’t be ignored as an option.

This is my personal surgery result. I am curious to know how others would react if they saw my chest like this. I am happy with it, because it feels good and it simplifies my life (eg. not having to wear disgusting female underwear bra stuff, walking around shirtless [at least in my own four walls], and feeling lighter and healthier)….dysphoria of the chest (my previous chest structure) was making me ill, because I felt sick with it, I felt diseased and wrong, as if a foreign and malign object was put there to torment me. My chest felt like ‘a cancerous being’, so I had to remove it (everything).

To me, someone WITH a chest is incomplete….

The following Images: 1. My Lovely Chest TM, 2. Dominic: un point, God, Nature, the-not-me: 0 points, 3. Neutrois kitsch: My Lovely Chest Smiley




My Lovely Chest ™

Dominic: un point, God: 0 points

Neutrois kitsch: My Lovely Chest ☺


The GenderQueer Atheist on YouTube


A sexual organ’s most practical uses: Genital Recycling

As I don’t have any idea what a sexual organ (reproductive tract etc.) is good for, I have tried to come up with some practical uses that will benefit not only oneself (!) but the environment and society.

(Feel free to add some of your own ideas)

THE BADASS GENITAL RECYCLING FIRM (we don’t mind putting our asses on the line for your pleasure)

1. burn the stuff (mentioned above) and use the resulting ash as fertiliser for your garden. It’s biological!

2. Spare the poor fish and use chunks of cut out sexual organs instead as shark bait, they are bound to love it, it’s natural!

3. make a powder of the dead material and create some organic paint; it’s a great way to add some of yourself to your projects!

4. make some art (there aren’t any boundaries here), just be creative. People love porn, so you’ll get a warm welcome!

5. send greeting cards with a part of yourself. Instead of signing your name, youu can just add a body part, since everyone defines you as such, they’ll have no problem recognising the card was sent by you. They’ll appreciate the personal nature of the gift!

6. Make a Halloween costume out of said organs and swap them around during the party for an unforgettable experience of culture. Immerse yourself in western culture by taking part in their traditional festivities and experience, above all, to be called ‘cunt’ and ‘dick’. It will give you a new perspective on life!

7. Experiment! You might want to engineer the stuff so it acts as your personal representative. This way you can be at two places at once and if someone annoys yuo you can easily say “talk to my vag.” and it’ll really start talking!

8. You always wanted to give your pet a part of yourself, be one with it. It’s part of a loving relationship! So, why not manufacture some personalised pet food and feed it to your loved one, so he/she will have a part of you in him/herself. It’s a very special gift and will make the bond of love and friendship (on your part at least) much stronger!

9. This is for the fundamentalists out there who don’t want to be neglected and will be happy to hear that they, too, can benefit from our latest offers. Why not use body parts as bio-weapon/bio-hazard. They are great projectiles and can easily be used to blackmail other people and generally get what one wants. It’s always good to have some spare parts; one is guranteed to succeed by having organs for every occasion. Need to be the boss, just strap on item Nr. 6448, need to be a female dominatrix, there’s a part for that, too. You can play whatever role you want and succeed in it!



Sorry, we do not have parts for the non-sexual/non-gendered minority out there, but we are working on it to satisfy you, too.

A surprising discovery

Today I had some maintenance done: the Depo injection.

I really did not feel like going to the dr’s today, but felt I had to, and I wouldn’t probably feel any better about later on, so I went.

The minute I saw the head nurse I wished I hadn’t gone; she had those piercing, intrusive sort of eyes that just manage to just look through you and reduce you to a pile of mumbling and fumbling.

I was so nervous, as if I had a job interview or was questioned at court.

I just wanted to get the injection quickly and then get out. I’m desperate for the Depo, because it deletes my period. In fact, I haven’t had one for at least 2 years and I just love the feeling of not having those menstrual feelings.

But then the nurses talked about tests and started to disturb me with their moral feelings. They actually wanted to me to get my body tests (like normal women) and wanted me to see the doctor (which I had never seen before, though I am a patient there). I already thought about just running out of the room, and started to devise a plan to never get asked to surrender my body to medical scrutiny again. After all, it’s not necessary to have one’s genitals poked and prodded if one is convinced one has none.

So we struck a bargain. The nurse asked Sir dr. if I could get the injection (just because) and I had to admit there was soemthing wrong with me and I needed help and a talk with him, who would be able to point me in the right direction. The nurse apparently felt my pain of being transgender, but still thought I needed to transition into one or the other gender. I determined in the waiting room, waiting like a convicted felon on death row, that I would attempt one last rebellion in front of this representative of the medical community: I would deny being ill or wrong in any way, and I would refuse straight out to transition to a gender known to man.

For, how does one transition to a gender that does not even exist? HOw does one transition to not having a gender?

I explained this to him, after a long and embarassing silence. I really did not feel like talking, because I thought it would be the same old Spiel. I had already encountered numerous dr’s before, and they were all of them unwilling to understand or to even hear me out when I talked about MY gender.

But to my surprise, when I said I knew how damned my lot in life was, because I knew of the impossibility of transitioning to neutral, it was him, not me, who protested. He wasn’t my enemy, after all, this little, common-looking man who wore glasses and complained about the renovation that was going on in the building. He looked so stern at first, so uninviting, so plain.

He told me that I might have a chance to keep on transitioning, to not stop here, but follow the process as far as it could possibly go. He even mentioned more surgery, but without hormones (exactly what i had been thinking of). Then he kindly directed me to a clinic that usually dealt with people such as me, perhaps extreme cases of GID or just extreme gender non-conformists. I haven’t heard of anyone actually doing what I plan on doing, though. I haven’t heard of another Neutral person who has transitiones to their preferred gender. Has anyone else?

So, today I called the clinic, and of course, I couldn’t get a hold of the person I had to contact…The revolution got stalled right then and there, and I suspect that there will be a lot more beaurocracy to go through before I can achieve my goals. And a lot more thought, and a lot more courage and confidence.

I never would have thought that, out of the blue, without looking for it, I would have come closer than I ever have before to my goals re: gender transitioning. I only had top surgery two weeks ago and now I am catapulted into the world of psychological specialists, medical professionals, and it’s getting more serious.

I just hope this wasn’t some sort of trick or ruse on his part to get me to communicate and to see someone who could then transform me into something more pleasant, like a man (a man with no human breast, and weird stuff downstairs, perhaps). I hope they don’t try to dope me with hormones and start telling me who I am.

I am not fully convinced yet that I have cracked the jackpot, but my hope for a better future in the world of gender (a better feeling, and less body dysphoria) has risen again. I so hope this isn’t just another fraud!! Wish me luck!