Tuesday I got a phone call from a journalist from Belgian newspaper De Standaard, asking me whether I would want to participate on an article about intersex, related to the recent decision in Germany to allow for a 'third gender', aimed at giving newborn intersex infants a chance to pick their own gender instead of forcing one upon them. I agreed to this interview, which took place on Wednesday. A photographer dropped by later that day for a few shots as well.
Yesterday I received the draft article to allow me to check it for factual correctness. Beyond a few small items it was good. Brief, but good. Beyond me two other people were interviewed, one anonymous Belgian person with the XXY intersex condition and one person who likes to swap between male and female roles. I didn't read their sections very thoroughly as I find it unpleasant to read about gender-related issues. Reading my own section was tough enough already.
From the photographer I heard that the article will be published this weekend in the magazine accompanying the newspaper, spanning a fair number of pages. I'm not sure whether I'll receive a copy as well, though I did request one. If I receive it I'll scan it in as usual for placement on my website.
While on one hand I'm glad that I'm definitely in the media's focus with this issue, find it very hard, nay impossible to come to terms with the apparent fact that this is my story. My words. My life and situation. It doesn't make sense that a person like me would be treated like this by Dutch physicians. What would be their reason for torturing me and inflicting permanent psychological damage? They aren't supposed to be twisted sadists.
I should be this smart girl hacking happily away at her current pet project, while fluttering around like the social butterfly some say I am. I shouldn't be literally on the run from persecution, literally fleeing to a country which actually acknowledges my human rights.
It all doesn't make a lick of sense. The only sense of comfort comes from this soft, gentle voice telling me that there's always a way out of this confusion and pain. That there is no need for me to keep suffering. All it takes is a bit of courage.
With every new attack on me as a person, my intersex condition and my safety and livelihood, I find it harder to ignore the promise of its velvet embrace.
This is going to be it, then? I don't know... I am still waiting for a response from that German surgeon. Somehow the medical side of this tangled issue has to be resolved. That restorative surgery would do that once and for all. Moving to Germany is nice and all, but if I take the same pain and frustrations with me, not enough will change to actually enable me to enjoy being alive. Right now I outright hate so many aspects of life and being human that the thought of me being a happy individual with nary a thought of suicide seems like a ridiculous proposition.
I'd like to see it changed, but I - an individual - can do nothing about that. That's all up to others. I do not get to decide about this life, beyond ending it.