Gender as a special type of transgenerational trauma

 Whereas the term 'sex' unequivocally refers to an individual's biological sex, i.e. their body's physical properties which pertain to the function of reproduction, the term 'gender' [1] has changed or assumed different meanings over the past centuries. Originally referring to a group of people or things which share a certain trait, it came to mean the same as 'biological sex' around the early 15th century as a way to differentiate it from the physical act of procreation that had become associated with the term 'sex' by that time.

The currently common meaning of 'gender' to mean 'social role' in the feminist sense dates to the early 1960s. This claims the existence of distinct masculine and feminine attributes that would define an individual as being part of either a masculine ('male') or feminine ('female') role in society, seeking to define the identity of a person's ego in only those perceived qualities.


Here I would like to postulate that this definition, and the perception of 'masculine' and 'feminine' properties to make up the ego of an individual, is indicative of transgenerational trauma [2]. Firstly, it is important to acknowledge that the very notion of such properties does not hold up to scientific scrutiny [3], with studies showing the brains of volunteers to display a mosaic of properties, with no distinct sets of properties that would indicate a propensity towards either a 'male' or 'female' pattern. Effectively, neither the presence nor absence of specific hormones or chromosomes appear to have any effect on the development and final functionality of the human brain.

While for animals as well as insects, their biological sex has a significant impact on their expected role in courtship rituals, an important distinction to be drawn here is that of instinct and behaviour versus reason and intelligence. No matter how enlightened a species may be, the basic courtship rituals and the instincts that drive them are still present. This underlies much of human societies, with in particular societies founded on Abrahamic religious foundations only relatively recently accepting that women are in fact individuals with the right to self-determination.


The societal patterns that have been sustained over the millennia as a result of these base rituals persist to this day, as do the traumas that accompany them. Despite there being no scientific evidence to support any dimorphism between human brains, it's still held as common knowledge that men and women are 'different'. Along with the feministic pseudo-scientific 'gender' theorem we can see this supposed difference being used as justification by some for segregation, or discrimination ('affirmative action', 'gender quota'), with no backing scientific evidence that would justify this.

Other ways that this societal trauma appears is in the form of individuals crossing those perceived masculine and feminine societal roles, either dressing up in a way that is generally perceived to be only acceptable for individuals in the other role. More extreme is the appearance of individuals who feel that they cannot live with the reproductive organs with which they have been born ('gender dysphoria', or GD) and must have these organs surgically removed. Here a considerable overlap with Body Identity Disorder (BID)[4] seems to exist [5]. Similarly to cases of non-neurological BID, individuals diagnosed with GD can grow out of the disorder, go through with surgery and end up regretting it ('detransition') [6], or find that the surgery did not alleviate the effects of the psychological disorder.


In the comparison with BID and GD one can see a pattern of trauma appear. For non-neurological (i.e. no deficiencies found within the brain) BID, there appears to be often some kind of impressive experience, often in the childhood of the person. This can be something shocking, such as seeing someone with an amputated limb. For GD the trauma appears to overlap significantly with transgenerational trauma.

Even before a child is conceived, the parents and their environment will hold certain beliefs about what is right and proper for a child, depending on the biological sex it is born with. This continues with the birth of the child, their clothes they receive, the toys they play with and the other children they see and how their environment expects them to play with others. At each stage along their development, they grow up in an environment in which their behaviour and preferences are cultured, promoted, punished and promoted until they are deemed 'appropriate'.

Here the parents and the environment are often unaware of their own actions, or would be at a loss to explain why they feel it is 'correct'. This is in many ways similar to the behaviour seen by the victims of childhood abuse, some of whom who will go on to inflict similar abuse to their own children. The distinction here is that this transgenerational trauma about societal roles or in its current nomenclature 'gender' isn't something that affects just some unfortunate families. This level of trauma affects entire societies and nations, generation after generation.


This also helps to explain to some extent the attitude towards intersex individuals. Falling outside the convenient boundaries of a binary sex, they either suffer early mutilation (intersex genital mutilation) to force them to conform, or will suffer the trauma of dealing with a society which is too traumatised to be able to accept that its concepts of masculinity and femininity are not only beside the point, but also comprehensively, scientifically incorrect.

To heal from this trauma, societies will first have to learn to accept the reality and scope of this trauma before they can begin to let go of fictional narratives. This would be a long, arduous process. If this concerned a singular patient, a psychiatrist would seek to slowly ease the patient out of their delusions and circular reasoning, so that they might see and grasp the reality. To do that with entire societies is however a whole different level.


Maya


[1] https://www.etymonline.com/word/gender
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgenerational_trauma
[3] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/your-brain-doesnt-care-what-genitals.html
[4] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3326051/
[5] https://www.researchgate.net/publication/269697839_Body_integrity_identity_disorder_and_Gender_Dysphoria_A_pilot_study_to_investigate_similarities_and_differences
[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Detransition

Violent truth; An intersexed freak; A hidden self

Sometimes one gets hit with a sudden moment of clarity when one least expects it. Usually this is probably because there's no real way to predict that would trigger those moments. I have been aware of me regaining a lot of old memories (good and bad) and going through flashbacks the past weeks. More eroding of mental barriers that kept traumas and other assorted bad stuff at bay, basically.

In hindsight it probably was only a matter of time before a big 'reveal' event would happen like the one which I had earlier, and which is the reason why I'm typing this just after midnight instead of being sound asleep after going through all the trouble of preparing for bed earlier.


Going to bed is one those things which are both pleasant and unpleasant to me. Resting is good, because being sleep-deprived is a terrible thing. Yet it also means the confrontation with my body in the dressing mirror. How will I feel about my body today? Will I be able to trick myself into thinking that I look okay and that I can happily go to bed? Or will it be another trigger in the cascade where as I lie in bed the thoughts begin to churn and churn until I'm all tensed up again and can no longer fall asleep?

Perhaps ironically, tonight was one of those times when things seemed to go well in that respect. Feeling a bit restless, maybe, due to all the work that still needs doing the next day. But generally feeling okay and ready to rest. Having a lot of big thoughts on this new anime series from 2014 which I started watching called Sword Art Online and some scenes from it which left major impressions.

Another thing that can happen while in bed with the lights off and feeling comfortable is that of fantasising about things of a sensual nature. While for most people this is probably a fairly straight-forward process, I'm still learning to deprogram the preconceptions I have of what my body looks like, what it's supposed to do and how it should respond. The trick then is to try and abandon those preconceptions and just listen to what one's body tells one. Everything should happen naturally from there onwards.


Of course, along with the preconceptions, more mental barriers must have crumbled and after having satisfied the flesh, I was flooded with the most unhappy and upset feelings and sensations. I could feel and see just how I had shielded myself from this truth that my body so readily told me. What my body truly is like, and with it how this duality of my body is something unforgivable.

Feeling how my body responds when left to its own sensual devices, and how natural it all feels to have what others would perceive as a hybrid body of sorts. Yet there is the top part that is all female, but there's something that doesn't belong there. Freak. Unforgivable. A violent dismissal.

Then the other thing that would match the upper part of the body in a binary world. I can feel it's there, inside of me. Responding. Existing. Yet it's covered with skin on the outside so it might as well not be there. Freak. Failure. Unforgivable.


When the heights of euphoria are followed by intense regrets, pain, agony and thoughts, feelings and memories which I wish didn't exist. Just like my body, in that case. The horrific realisation that my body is unforgivable. That I shall never receive the blessing. That I have still cordoned off this part of my mind where my body truly is mine and normal in my own eyes. Something which seems so obvious, yet which isn't.

To experience my body in such a normal fashion, and then remember how my body got dismissed by everyone including medical professionals. To feel the shame and humiliation of having my body dismissed. To feel the never-healing wounds inside my mind. To realise how I have tried to ignore my own body just so that I could 'move on' with my life.


Only you cannot 'move on' and past your own body. It'll be there until the day you leave this mortal coil. You either confront and accept it, or you can live in outright refusal of the truth. For me accepting the truth means dropping those preconceptions about my body, and accept the agony and humiliation of society's refusal to accept my body and me along with it.

I can only be myself. That's all who and what I'll ever be. No matter what society thinks, demands, threatens or begs from me. I'm all that is on offer.

That's why I had to refuse offers from medical professionals to mutilate my body into something which it is not through genital mutilation. That's why I will still have to keep hoping that perhaps one day I can get the reconstructive surgery for the perineum. Because doing so means accepting my body.

Because it is the right thing to do.


Maya

When sex-positivity is a negative thing

During the 1960s, the so-called 'sex-positive movement' [1] began, offering a counter to the prevalent culture of the preceding decades in which sexuality was regarded as something that should not be brought into the public view. As quoted from sexologist Carol Queen on the Wikipedia entry for the movement: "'Sex-positive' respects each of our unique sexual profiles, even as we acknowledge that some of us have been damaged by a culture that tries to eradicate sexual difference and possibility."

It is of course generally wonderful that people are left free to express themselves and develop in the way that works best for them. To not have to hide aspects of themselves, or to feel forced to behave in ways that are considered to be socially acceptable, when it is not what makes them happy. A big example of that is the freedom to develop intimate relationships with others without having to perform the socially acceptable matching of appropriate genitals and social status.


The second part of Carol Queen's quote in the same article however touches on the issues with sex-positivity: "It’s the cultural philosophy that understands sexuality as a potentially positive force in one’s life, and it can, of course, be contrasted with sex-negativity, which sees sex as problematic, disruptive, dangerous. Sex-positivity allows for and in fact celebrates sexual diversity, differing desires and relationships structures, and individual choices based on consent."

The keywords here are 'potentially positive'. This is the part that gets easily overlooked by those who most loudly clamour in favour of the sex-positive movement into the mainstream. The primary issue and reason why sexuality isn't something positive for everyone is all too often caused by sexuality. Perhaps ironically, sex-positivity can be the thing that is disruptive and dangerous, if not outright traumatic.


It is one thing to celebrate sexuality and one's preferences there, but it is all too easy to forget that in the real world actions also affect others. Just because someone's sexuality leads them to prefer under-age boys or girls, or leads to them not respecting personal boundaries in the case of assault and rape in what is often a display of dominance and control, this does not mean that any of this is good, or deserves to be celebrated. Even if it is how their sexuality expresses itself.

Such acts of trauma consequently leads to traumatised individuals for whom sexuality and even physical contact have taken on a distinctly negative slant, often reinforced by successive further negative experiences with sexuality and with putting one's trust into others. Because ultimately sexuality is not about genitals, or even physical intimacy, but about feeling comfortable and safe enough to express certain desires.


It can also be said that the focus on sexuality diminishes the individual instead of enriching them. Whereas Humanism is about individualism and the role of the individual in a society, the sex-positive movement redirects attention away from the person encoded in the neurons of the brain, and back down to whatever sexual features their body have and what they do with them, while reinforcing social pressures about sexuality being something that shall and must be part of one's life.

To those who suffered traumas or for whom the concept of sexuality simply holds no appeal, the public display of or references to sexuality can be something that's undesirable, or even re-traumatising. I have seen examples of the lack of understanding here in a variety of forms, such as in posts on Twitter which included a couple of photos of homosexual couples kissing and an accompanying text that effectively concluded that anyone who dislikes that Twitter post or unfollows the person posting or retweeting it must be homophobic.

I do not like seeing people kiss or hold hands. I know many others who do not care for this either. It does not matter whether the people doing the kissing or hand-holding are hetero-, bi-, tri- or homosexual, the core of the problem is the display of sexuality. Some of us do not care to see it because we consider sexuality something private for a couple and get annoyed when people start kissing and fondling in front of them. For others it acts as a trigger for traumatic experiences, bringing back painful memories or even provoking full-blown Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder episodes.


The reasons for my negative attitude towards sexuality are legion, but I do not feel that it is something that necessarily needs 'fixing'. In fact, I feel that in many regards those views that I hold are the more mature ones, as they are born from experience instead of starry-eyed ideals. When I walked through the Red Light district in Amsterdam and saw the prostitutes behind glass in their sterile, tiled rooms, I did not see it as a symbol of the liberation of sexuality, as some have referred to it. Instead I saw and felt just the sadness and loneliness of the tragedy of what others have described as 'masturbating together'.

To be held captive by one's carnal desires and the associated sexuality, to be blind and ignorant to the wider picture, and to put the desires of the flesh above exploring the incomparable beauty of another person's mind as all of us work in communion on a better world for all. To me that is the true tragedy and crime against humanity on view here.


Maya


[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sex-positive_movement

The tyranny of political correctness, or: Vox Populi, Vox Dei

Some who have recently followed the news may have come across a little kerfuffle between J.K. Rowling and a vocal group who took offence at Ms Rowling taking offence with the term 'people who menstruate' as a redefinition of simply 'women'. Somehow this escalated into Ms Rowling being called a trans-exclusionary radical feminist (TERF), trans-phobic and many more colourful terms.

Reading through Ms Rowling's recent open letter on the topic [1], I do not see the writings of a TERF, or a trans-phobic person. Instead it is a balanced post, that raises a lot of important questions and concerns. It, along with the rest of this topic, hits close to home for me.


As an intersex person I, too, have been called a TERF, trans-phobic, etc. simply for not following the 'pro-trans' script.

As an intersex person I have suffered immensely and am still being denied proper medical treatment [2] because the trans dialogue has made it impossible to be intersex in today’s society. Doctors and psychologists have done their best for over a decade to try and make me believe that I had to be transgender. [3]

As an intersex person I am legally able to refer to myself as ’male’ and ’female’, on account of being a hermaphrodite. This characteristic of my body has forced me to consider what it means to be male/female, and what this ’woman’ and ’man’ thing are.

This made me realise that gender isn’t real. It’s just what we used to call ’societal role’, as based on one’s biological sex [5]. Recent scientific studies have made it clear that the human brain is not dimorphic, and shows no sex-based differences. [6]

This also fits my experiences as someone who was forced to live in a male role and now has shifted into a female role for convenience.

What does it mean to be a woman? It’s something that those who were born with a body that followed a female trajectory during development (including XXY and XY intersex women) can truly understand. It’s not about the societal role, but it’s about the sex-based aspect, of having these specific reproductive organs, a hormone system that colours one life from puberty onward.

As a hermaphrodite I can see Ms Rowling’s point, and I find no issue with it. She does not want to buy into the trans agenda, and follow the PC option of surrendering everything to appease extremist transgender folk and their allies. What’s even the point of wanting to be called a ’woman’? Why usurp a label when all one wants is to essentially act in a particular way in society? Why do situations like these feel like a decision has been taken, a ruling rendered and the execution scheduled?


There are some points where one has to admit that the Vox populi, the voice of the people, is not the vox Dei, as they wish to be heard. As Alcuin of York wrote in 798: "And those people should not be listened to who keep saying the voice of the people is the voice of God, since the riotousness of the crowd is always very close to madness". [7]

The reasonable voice is easily drowned out by the chanting of the crowd. No manner of eloquence can prevent a lynching. Before the Vox populi deems itself to be the vox Dei, it owes it to itself and its enduring legacy to consider its course and reasoning before committing to anything irreversible.


Maya


[1] https://www.jkrowling.com/opinions/j-k-rowling-writes-about-her-reasons-for-speaking-out-on-sex-and-gender-issues/
[2] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/02/so-i-got-denied-medical-care-because-of.html
[3] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2020/01/erasure-of-intersex-identity-through.html
[5] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/gender-is-social-contract-not-part-of.html
[6] https://mayaposch.blogspot.com/2019/12/your-brain-doesnt-care-what-genitals.html
[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vox_populi

Recalling childhood trauma really hurts

For the past days I felt quite fearful, without any real reason, though likely triggered or at the very least worsened by the noise of presumably construction in the apartment above me at very early and late hours, often startling me. This sensation of being fearful just kept increasing.

Today I woke up from extremely loud drilling in the building, shaking the entire building and making me decide to leave for the office instead of staying at the apartment. There are the office I had quite an okay time, enjoying the peace and quiet while working on some projects, both private and for work. After the thunderstorms had passed in the afternoon I went back to the apartment.

Once back, I was relieved to note that the drilling had ceased. Beyond some shuffling, scraping and bumping on the floor upstairs for a bit everything was quiet again. I took that opportunity to read a few more chapters in the book which I'm currently reading while relaxing on my bed. I felt okay after this, though with a slight headache, still.

Then, as I sat down on my computer chair, something hit me. Suddenly I was a child. A young child. Some figure was looming over me. Threatening me. A man, I think. I felt terrified. I had to protect myself, shield myself. Get away. I felt exposed in my genital area no matter what I did. I think something was hurting there.

Even though I was still aware on some level that none of that was real, the sensations and feelings of terror were too real to ignore. I found myself cradling myself, shielding myself from this horrible figure that was threatening me. Running away and hiding. Cowering. Crying.


Eventually I managed to pull myself out of that state, but the memories remain. Even now they're recollections more real than life. I feel that something has changed inside of me, as if part of me has been ripped open and something oozed out of the wound. Something terrible. Something of which I had always felt that it was somewhat there, but this is the first time that it has felt this real.

It's no longer something distant or theoretical to me. Not a vague if disturbing sensation that just nags me in the back of my head. This is reality.


As I type this my head hurts and I am struggling with chaotic feelings. I had expected that I would one day be able to recollect again what had happened to me as a young child, but I had not expected it to happen like this. To be so incredibly painful and disturbing. So terrifyingly real. I think I'll be okay again. Eventually. Once this horrible pain stops and I can breathe again.

I'll get through this. I must.

I must accept this. I can no longer hide from the truth.

I cannot believe this is real.

I cannot believe this truly happened to me.

Please let it just be a nightmare.


Please let me wake up. All safe.


This hurts...


Maya

The struggle to recall buried memories

Usually in films the process of recovering buried memories and similar involves flashbacks and sudden flashes of recollections. As I'm currently finding out, it's somewhat like that, but also completely different.

For me the goal is to figure out what happened when I was about five years old, which apparently involved a single or multiple events which led to me withdrawing into myself, refusing any form of physical contact for many years afterwards, along with the development of an intense hatred of sexuality and a strong distrust of people in general, and men specifically.


So far I haven't been able to uncover any concrete memories, even though I have a significant number of memories of things which happened before and in the years after the event. What I have so far is this very strong feeling of... wrongness that has bothered me since I was a child, but which has become more pervasive over the years.

As I'm working through things with my psychotherapist, I'm often asked to remember things from my youth and childhood. Over the past months I have found that this is slowly making me remember things from my childhood. Mostly neutral memories, of sights, smells and sensations, such as me holding and looking at a dried sea horse at my grandmother's place as a child.


Alongside all of that there is this strong feeling of having been violated. Assaulted. Humiliated. Of feeling terrified and apprehensive of something or someone. Just no associated memories. This part of my recollections where the distrust of others and hatred of sexuality culminate is still blocked off to me. Only these feelings related to that time are readily accessible.

They are horrible feelings.

Earlier this week I got to this point with my therapist and as soon as I opened myself up to those emotions, I simply broke down into tears and could not talk for minutes as I struggled to regain my composure. It's just a raw feeling of wrongness. Of having been forced to do horrible things, or having them performed on me.


I do have some idea of what likely happened to me, as in the years afterwards I would suddenly show very unusual sexually dominant behaviour, essentially seeking to victimise others. This is commonly referred to as inverting or reflecting traumatic experiences as a way to deal with them. If that's the case, then it appears that one or more men forced me to perform sexual acts and likely were very rough about it, to leave me feeling so distraught.

I guess I can kind of understand why. Imagine being a five-year old child, who suddenly finds themselves in a situation that's so unfamiliar to them, and then there are these scary men saying and demanding things which just make you want to run away. Find someone who can protect you. But there's nobody there. There won't be any help.

And then it's over with, and you're let go, never to speak about it again. Only it's still there, all the memories and experiences, to gnaw at your very being like a slow cancer for the rest of your life.


I just wish I could remember what happened exactly and who did it to me. Something to allow me to make some sense of it all and give an opportunity to give it a place, instead of having it eat at me like this. To give me an opportunity to maybe learn to trust people again.

Somehow I think that it's still going to be a long and difficult road.


Maya

Living in a sex-crazed world

Among humans there is the strong and wistful belief that we are different from and better than the other animals around us. This belief includes the assumption that we are in control of our animalistic urges and desires, and are able to apply logic and reason instead to our actions. Yet nothing could be further from the truth.

Instead of eating when we are hungry, supplying our bodies with the essential nutrients and calories it needs, and ensuring that we get sufficient exercise, we instead tend to eat too much, of the wrong types of food and seem to lack any kind of awareness of how we harm our bodies.

Instead of applying reason and logic to our interactions with fellow human beings, we are less members of a civilised society and more merely tribes of chimpanzees, screaming at 'the others', throwing rocks at them and plundering, pillaging and raping other tribes whenever we get the opportunity.

Instead of realising that sexuality is still an unfortunate remnant of our animal origins and adapt it into society in a way which lets us perpetuate our tragically mortal species - yet not disturb society's civilised fabric - we instead opt to let it control our behaviour and society in a way which makes us seem like raving lunatics.

All of this lunatic behaviour is displayed grotesquely throughout our cities, on our broadcasts and consumed with abundance by the populace. From food which may as well be poison, to the obese rich and starving poor, to endless conflict, to the selling of one's body and a complete obsession with sex. It is by any measurement a hedonistic society, through and through.

While some would go on to blame certain types of government, economical systems and what not, there is only one factor in all of this which deserves the full focus of every shred of blame. This being humans themselves. Our disgustingly gorged and profusely malodorous overestimation of our own self-worth makes it utterly impossible for us to perceive our own lack of humanity.

We're a society of base animals. Any accomplishments we greedily attribute to humanity and its wondrous nature are in fact accomplished by the few who manage to rise above their animalistic nature.

Seeing humanity in its naked form is frankly revulsing. Its buildings and other structures are filled with the groans, screams and other exclamations by rutting and fighting individuals. Whatever sense of beauty may arise out of its dark, festering pools is quickly obscured by the stark despair of humanity's endless enmity, strife and pursuit of base urges.

This, however, is apparently the best we will have for a long time to come.


Maya

Things which make me want to kill myself and what I am trying to do about them

My current apartment:
Beyond being overly expensive for the state it is in [1], the noise and other discomforts keep messing with my psychological disorders. I do not see how I can go keep on living in this place for even just another year. It's time for me to move. This is why I have begun to ask around for suitable alternatives [2]. Frustratingly enough I seem to be fully dependent on others for this.

I crave so much for a quiet place to live. A place where I can relax for the first time in probably two decades, with just the silence to soak in. No fear of sudden sounds.

Maybe someone will help me out here. I really hope so.


Being a medical experiment:
About a week ago I quit the hormone therapy the endocrinologist had put me on again, despite it being an overdose. After suffering the renewed effects of said overdose for a month, including headaches, extreme mood swings, extreme numbness in my right leg, nausea and other fun, I called it quits.

I am not sure in how far I am interested at this point in dealing with being the subject of such pointless experiments. Maybe if they can conclusively prove that I need it to keep healthy bones I'd be convinced. Before that I am however done and through with it. I have been used as a soul-less guinea pig by doctors and psychologists for over a decade. At some point I have to put down my foot and reclaim my human rights.

However, I am not looking forward to the confrontation this may cause with the endocrinologist. If I ever hear from her again, that is. No, I still feel that I cannot trust physicians. How could I?


Surgery, or not:
Will I undergo reconstructive surgery this year or not? It's still the same waiting game, with no feedback or even a hint of what may come. At this point I have simply resorted to acknowledging that all it will likely affect will be my sexuality, which is something which is so useless that one may as well fully ignore it.

Come what may, ultimately such a surgery - or for that matter sexuality in general - should not play a role in my life at all. My experiences have taught me that to hold hope in one's heart is foolish. Better to stab it until it dies, then discard of such useless distractions lest it keeps one from salvaging one's life from disaster. Sexuality isn't a part of being human. Even if it might be nice to have.

Thus, I wait. And wait more.


PTSD:
I really, really hate having post-traumatic stress disorder, mostly because of how it manages to make normal social situations into Hell itself, or a crappy apartment into a trigger-based iron maiden. For most of it I can deal with things, except for the apartment side, as noted above. I reckon that having an actual home where I can feel safe might help enormously with dealing with PTSD in general.


Maya



[1] http://mayaposch.blogspot.de/2016/03/apartments-or-meaning-of-life.html
[2] http://mayaposch.blogspot.de/2016/03/please-help-me-find-ptsd-safe-home.html

Got to prioritise one's traumas

With the agonising and feeling terrible about doctors not wanting to help me with my intersex condition suddenly not taking up 99% of my thoughts any more since a few days now, it seems that other traumas are more than happy to take up the slack, judging by the recent dreams, thoughts and recalled events I had to wade through.

The one I found myself unexpectedly dealing with today was due to an incident last night during the crossing into the new year. I was outside, watching the fireworks with a group of people, some of whom I knew, when one of the guys unknown to me decided to get... touchy at some point. He'd stand behind me and... touch me. Both times I'd abruptly turn and walk away, pushing back the second time as well.

To be honest I still feel terribly upset at the mere thought of this, even I feel I should just be able to shake it off, especially since nothing much happened. Yet something about having a guy standing behind me like that and touching me without my permission triggers a lot of really bad and deeply hidden memories. Memories which are accompanied by a lot of anger.

It's been nearly ten years now since I got raped by a guy. After that experience I have long tried to find a way to deal with sexuality and related topics in a neutral and unbiased fashion, but it has long since become clear to me that this is not going to happen. Even though I got a lot of help from someone who helped me deal with my rape trauma using her own experiences, which at least allows me to not feel like it's all my fault, it's still not something that is even remotely easy to deal with.

Anger. That's pretty much the central emotion here. The anger of having been violated, of having been taken advantage of. Of having one's body... used like a common object. I am fairly certain that the inarticulate rage I feel at seeing heterosexual couples is related to this as well, linked into the general hatred I seem to have developed against anything 'male'.

It's not just the fact of having been raped and otherwise been taken advantage of over the past years, but also the recollection of having been physically violated by one male doctor after another, as they prodded and poked every part of my naked body. The shame and embarrassment of going through that experience over and over again, more times than I care to remember. The loathing for myself that I did not find a different way and just submitted to these physical examinations.

The only positive thing I can say about dealing with these traumatic recollections is that it doesn't make me feel depressed or suicidal in the slightest, like what the 'no intersex help' trauma does with me. These other traumas are merely about inarticulate rage, anger and boundless hatred. It's still something which I will have to learn to deal with and process the associated events in some fashion, but at least it just makes me want to curl up and cry a lot so that I'll feel slightly better afterwards.

In some way it almost makes me feel like I am more... human again when I feel like this. With the intersex issue settled for now, I actually have a human body to which these other traumas can apply. It's practically a joyful thing to me that I can feel this way again, weird as it may seem. Maybe it's just the joy at being able to feel real emotions again, instead of the numbing pain of dissociation.


Maya

Something to look forward to

The past is a most profound thing, almost like a living, breathing entity onto itself. Even though it does no longer technically exist except perhaps theoretically through some undiscovered mechanisms, it nevertheless continues to be as real as life itself to any being that exists.

This can be a source of great elation, when someone recalls a most pleasant and joyful memory, or the source of great sadness, such as when a painful loss is recalled. Regardless of the kind of memory it is of great importance that the separation between the past, present and future remains. If it this separation fades, and the past begins to sully the present and with it the future, it can erase the latter completely.

Over the past years I have had to defend my decision to keep searching for medical answers to the many questions about my body. Not just occasionally, and not just from others either, as it's a question I still ask myself on many occasions. I did not choose to subject myself to such intense suffering at the hands of the West's finest so-called medical professionals, after all.

Last year I thought that I could ignore it and focus on just living my life. Yet as with other of such attempts my body had to spoil this with new and intensified symptoms. How can I just ignore the appearance of pigmentation lines and other symptoms which only pregnant women are supposed to have? Could I just ignore any hormonal issues and any possibly related physical issues and complications?

Once again, the present reality forced my hand. Now, nearly a year after I renewed my search for answers I find that I have had to mostly confront the same terrors from my past, in the form of uncooperative, lying and deceitful medical professionals, as well as the same fears, uncertainties and doubt about this body of mine. To me it feels like spinning in circles and reliving the same nightmares of my horrid past over and over again.

Sadly, it appears that the past will not allow me to move on, to focus on the future instead of the past. Neither does the present, as only through the wilful ignoring of pain and unpleasantness via the drowning out of reality can I still function somewhat. This does not take away from the fact, however, that for all intents and purposes I do not just have a medical problem, but am also suffering from physician-induced mental conditions.

The post-traumatic stress disorder which I received courtesy of the decade-long (and continuing) torture at the hands of psychologists and medical professionals makes itself most apparent by making it impossible for me to keep the past and present separated. When a single spoken or written word, a gesture, event or image suffices to have the horrors of the past come rushing back into the present, there simply is no escape. There is just the past: in the past, present and future, all blurred together in a haze of suffering.

I noticed this yesterday once again, when I was confronted with such triggers, mostly related to relationships and sexuality. I managed to stay away from the worst of it, but last night my dreams were filled again with nightmarish scenes involving such topics, as well as many others. Much of it was filled in using memories, so that upon waking up I was able to reminisce on the finer details of traumatic events I hadn't recalled so clearly in a long time.

Such memories used to be mostly just impressions and facts I could keep filed away like that, but over the past years they have become more clear and detailed, until I can recall my thoughts at the time, as well as the accompanying sensations, sounds and smells. It makes it ever more painfully clear to me, for example, just how deep-rooted my hatred against sexuality and everything associated with it truly goes.

Ironically, psychologists are supposedly trained to help people deal with the past, but in my case they cannot help me, as they caused a great deal of this damage, in particular my hatred against my own body and so-called health professionals. How can I trust someone who belongs to the same group of people who have lied to me, deceived me, tried to make me believe things about myself which were a complete lie?

Thus it is that in the end I can do nothing but embrace the past as I keep trying for year after year after year to find this solution using which I can finally end this cycle of insanity physicians and psychologists have started me on, well over a decade ago.

I want to put the past to rest, but it just does not want to stay dead...


Maya

Stop the gender-based indoctrination

Pre-Second World War Western society was a very strictly binary society when it came to the biological sexes and gender roles. During the 50s and 60s this began to change, culminating in the exploration of many alternative views on both biological sex and gender roles in general. This also led to the general view that raising children in a gender-neutral manner was a good and positive thing.

I was raised in such a fashion, thanks to my mother who has always been a big advocate of self-determination and exploration, especially for children. Both my bothers and I were provided with all types of toys as we grew up, from toy cars to dolls, so that we could figure out what we liked and didn't like, without enforcing any kind of gender role.

Looking back, I can honestly say that this likely helped me a great deal as I began to figure out what was the matter with my body and my life. Without any set notions of who I had to be or how I had to behave, the only thing I had to fight with were the pre-set notions of society with regard to biological sex and gender roles.

For some reason it seems that since the 1970s, society has regressed into the binary notions towards these topics. Where raising children as just children, we now don't call them 'children' any more, but split them into 'boys' and 'girls' even before they are born.

When I was talking with this famous Dutch biological - Midas Dekkers - a few years ago after a talkshow we were both on, he noted that biologists do not distinguish between the physical sex of offspring until they become fertile, as there's no point to it. They are completely indistinguishable up till that point, after all.

When it comes to human offspring, much the same applies: the genitals are inactive organs, their hormone levels are identical, there are no significant neurological differences. They are just children.

And yet for some absurd reason most parents start with the indoctrinating of their offspring before birth by ensuring that their child will grow up in an environment which reinforces stereotypes for one of the two gender roles approved by society. The child's room is painted pink or blue. It has either 'masculine' or 'feminine' decorations. The child is given only toys approved for the gender role their physical sex is matched to, with toys clearly divided in toy stores into 'boys' and 'girls' sections.

To an outsider this may seem like a bizarre psychological indoctrination experiment, without any regard for the emotional or psychological well-being of the subjects. It would be reminiscent of a highly (in)famous case in psychology where in the 1960s the circumcision of a male baby went awry, and the decision was made to turn the baby's genitals surgically into those of a girl. Even though this child was raised as a girl afterwards, the gender identity of the child as it neared and entered puberty remained that of a male.

Having struggled myself over the past decades to find the proper (gender) role in life, I am all too aware of how difficult it is to figure out one's true desires and feelings without having society trying to brainwash you. I was saved this indoctrination for the largest part as a child thanks to my very wise mother, yet over the past decade I have suffered a similar type of indoctrination as psychologists and doctors tried to make me believe that I had to be a transsexual, biological male.

The effects of such indoctrination are horrific. Something about those brutal attempts to rewrite your personality and sense of self is just damaging beyond description. For me it were those indoctrination attempts which probably contributed to my post-traumatic stress disorder the most, as I fought to hold on to my true self, even as every attempt was made to erase every last trace.

Between the forced genital mutilation of infants born with even slightly ambiguous genitals and the indoctrination into a specific gender-role, the genderisation of society is a barbaric and highly damaging practice, not unlike the suffocating atmosphere of Victorian society, but with more mad medical 'science' thrown into the mix.

Yet this genderisation doesn't even stop there. Among claims for 'gender equality' in politics, science and information technology, feminists and kin keep perpetuating the myth that there are just men and women. What is the point of raising one's children in a neutral fashion if when they grow up they are exposed to such mindless lunacy? How can one prepare them for a society which absolutely must divide individuals into either of two buckets?

I say we let our children just be children, let them have and play with any toys they bloody well like, and grow up into the person they wish to become through self-discovery. As for us supposed adults... we should maybe consider embracing simply humanism, treat our fellow humans as individuals and stop forcing them into groups like 'men' and 'women'.

Maybe one day we will then finally learn to look beyond genitals and sexual secondary characteristics and see the person behind all those ultimately irrelevant details.


Maya

The arguments to reclassify homosexuality as a disorder

Until 1973, homosexuality was globally classified as a mental disorder, with others and ultimately the World Health Organisation following in 1990 in removing this classification. The description of homosexuality as an 'unnatural' form of behaviour started as early as the 12th century, and it was featured in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual (DSM) in 1952 as a mental disorder. [1]

A mental disorder is by definition a mental condition which causes issues making it hard to impossible for the affected individual to lead a normal life. A requirement for something to be classified as a mental disorder is that it has to cause 'dysfunction', i.e. symptoms which are not caused by merely a preferences or a temporary state of mind, such as grief.

Why homosexuality was classified as a disorder (and still is by some), is that it is the displaying of behaviour which runs contrary to what was dictated and ultimately expected. This expected behaviour being heterosexual behaviour and attraction. Anyone not displaying the correct behaviour was thus said to have a mental disorder. Pretty simple and easy. And also hopelessly wrong, of course.

What I really want to address with this article is not homosexuality and its classification as a disorder, but to use it as an example of how mistaken people can be, even if it is with the best of intentions. Those who put homosexuals through 'therapy' over the past hundreds of years would usually not have done it with any kind of malicious intent, even if the result was the same.

The exact same thing is happening today with intersex individuals. While previously largely ignored or brutally forced through 'normalisation' surgery (akin to 'gay therapy' in many ways), quite recently (past few years), there is a movement within the medical world to rename 'intersex' to 'disorder of sex development' (DSD).

Another 'disorder'.

If we look at the medical conditions intersex people deal with, we can see that by and large none of them are troubled by it. Normal bodily functions take place, they grow up with normal brains, normal intelligence. They are all rather boring and uninteresting from a medical point of view. Only thing that might be different in some cases is the endocrinological and reproductive formation and development, but this rarely necessitates any kind of medical interference.

Yet every day at least one intersex infant forcefully undergoes this 'normalisation' surgery, in order to remove any trace of being intersex. A sex is forcibly assigned, despite there being no scientific grounds for assuming that this is anything but a wild guess. A preference for physical sex and gender role is not encoded in one's genes after all, or the world of transsexuality would look very different than it does today.

The real reason why physicians and parents would genitally mutilate infants is because the topic of intersex is as embarrassing to them as it was to have a non-heterosexual child years ago. Or still today for some. As homosexuality is slowly becoming an accepted thing in societies around the world, intersex is still something which is seen as something which does not belong in a binary society.

For sex must be binary. Society has accepted homosexuality, because it doesn't break the sex binary. It has accepted transsexuality, because it doesn't break the sex binary. Neither of them upset the delicate balance of having just men and women.

Intersex destroys all of that. It shows that sex isn't a matter of absolutes and extremes, but a spectrum. As any zygote in a pregnant woman's uterus is initially female, this shift towards becoming 'male' is a gradual process, requiring many chemical triggers and other signals to be released and started at the right time. In the case of a chimera (mixed genetic material, e.g. from multiple zygotes), the end result is unpredictable.

If society were to accept intersex, it would have to abandon its concept of male and female. It would have to rethink and reshape itself completely from the ground up. Entire bureaucratic systems would have to be scrapped and rebuilt.

Societies are about inertia and will perceive any rapid change as a threat. This is why homosexuality got marked as a threat within the highly conservative Christian medieval times. This is why intersex has largely only ever been accepted by small, scattered societies around the world.

This is why intersex has been marked as 'disorder'. Not because those physicians care about us intersex individuals. On the contrary, they couldn't care less about us. What they do care about is the preservation of the status quo. The only way they can continue to keep erasing traces of intersex features in infants and children is by coming up with a new justification now that the world is becoming aware of intersex.

This justification is through redefining it as a disorder, which gives them all the legitimacy to continue these experimental 'normalisation' surgeries. Because they aren't harming us intersex individuals, but 'helping' us, as growing up intersex would be a traumatic experience. Or so they claim.

I'm sure they believe every word they say and may really think that they are helping us, but really... it's still pretty darn evil what they are doing.


Maya


[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality_and_psychology
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_disorder

The shameful taboo of a traumatic disorder

Earlier this week I had an introduction meeting at the corporation which owns the apartment I most recently looked at to rent. We went through all the usual questions and wishes, and I mentioned of course that I really prefer a quiet place. The man I was talking with mentioned of course that what is an acceptable amount of noise differs per person.

I wanted to explain that I have severe post-traumatic stress syndrome, that many noises from neighbours, heating systems and such startle me and make me want to flee or even commit suicide if they continue for an extended period of time. But I didn't. I just said that I like quiet apartments, with no neighbours above me and such.

A few days ago I was on my way to do groceries on my bicycle, when first this guy and then a girl ended up waiting next to me at a traffic light. They started kissing. The sensation of sickness, rage, terror and panic was just too much to describe in mere words. I wanted to scream, yell, run, get away from there. For hours and until the next day this feeling lasted. Yet I kept it all inside until I was back home and could cry and openly express the ripping pain I felt inside.

I am well aware of how far my PTSD and related traumatic disorders affect my life and how irrational the beliefs are which originate from these traumas, such as that everyone wishes to harm me, that all men are rapists, that all physicians and psychologists are evil, conniving psychopaths, that the only reasonable thing I can do is to take my own life. That there is nothing left to salvage in my life or in humanity as a whole.

Maybe it's because all of it sounds so completely crazy and out of touch with reality that I cannot and will not talk about with just anyone. I also realise that heterosexual couples have likely no idea how much emotional pain and suffering they cause with their openly affectionate and intimate behaviour. The hatred I feel towards the latter is born from the pain they caused, not because they knowingly and willingly caused my suffering.

Yet all of it comes down to that thanks to these traumatic disorders I have a lot what normal society would call 'crazy' inside of me. Safely locked away until something triggers it. And very few people - basically only those with traumatic disorders themselves - can comprehend what it feels like to survive through each and every day like that.

My name is Maya, and I have multiple traumatic disorders, yet I do not talk about it out of fear that society will shun me even more.

Welcome to today's enlightened society, I guess...


Maya

The parents who tattoo their own baby

Much of our behaviour towards our offspring is dictated by cultural and social norms. In some cultures the application and displaying of tattoos is very important in every day life, showing one's status within society and marking the passing into adulthood. One could postulate thus that tattoos are something quite harmless and there would be nothing against the wish of parents desiring to have tattoos applied to their baby's skin in order to indicate their joy with their newborn and display this to the world. At a later age the child or adult could proudly display said tattoos as a sign of parental love and care.

After all, parents already determine the religious faith or lack thereof their child grows up with, what education they receive and what they are and aren't allowed to see, read and watch. What possible harm could there be in leaving a physical mark on a child's skin in addition to the life-long impressions left on the child's mind and psyche?

In Western society the answer to this is codified in so many child protection laws. No parent shall knowingly and willingly inflict physical or emotional harm onto their child, lest child protection services become involved, or even the justice system in severe cases. Tattoos are definitely a step too far here, as indicated by the outrage expressed by many at the sight of young, pre-teen girls being forced through the motions of a beauty contest, dressed up and with make-up applied to give them the apparently of women many times their own age. Clearly that's as far back as the line goes, and less far again in other Western societies.

One of the main issues which people in general have with inflicting permanent, physical changes to an newborn's body is that the newborn in question has never given permission, and secondly there is no appreciable benefit to such an action. One even has to consider the possibility of severe psychological trauma as a result of this choice as the newborn grows up into a child, teenager and adult. What will the impact be on the person's emotional health? How will one's environment handle it? Might it negatively affect the person's chances to get a good job, successful career and loving relationship?

In light of this the moral and often legal consensus is that it is fully amoral to apply a tattoo to a baby's skin or other individual incapable of making an informed, personal choice.

This does, however, lead to the interest conundrum that every day again in the same Western countries parents knowingly and wilfully consent to have their baby permanently and physically altered in a way which goes far beyond the impact of a mere tattoo, which one could reason is not that permanent any more with the host of methods to remove them these days. The victims of these surgical alterations are infants who have the misfortune of having been born without clearly distinguishable male or female genitals.

These surgeries have as goal to completely remove any trace of the 'wrong' genitals, while making the Chosen genitals look as normal as possible. Which side gets picked and as a result which physical sex and thus gender role gets assigned is done purely by chance, as there is no way to tell for an infant which physical sex or gender role they may prefer as they mature into teenagers, roughly twelve years later. The use of chromosomal tests to see which sex chromosomes (XX, XY, other) are present in the infant is meaningless, as made abundantly clear by the existence of transsexuals.

Salient point here is also that none of these so-called 'normalization' surgeries are medically required. In fact, they are dangerous, potentially harming or even killing the infant as full narcosis by infants is extremely risky. One must also question how many of the victims of these surgeries later identify as 'transsexual', unaware of their medical history, as all too often these normalization surgeries are neither recorded nor reported.

These leaves us at the rather awkward point where we can all share moral and ethical outrage at parents who would consider tattooing their baby or infant, yet who would at the same time jump at the chance to forever alter and scar the same infant with unknown consequences for no realistic gain. Because it's a sin to not be 'normal'? Just like 'everyone else', as if one can truly take a random group of individuals and split them strictly across a male/female line keeping in mind both biological characteristics and gender role preferences.

In some way this situation reflects the moral ambiguity and hypocrisy in society. Tattooing a baby is 'wrong' because it makes it less 'normal' and it wasn't a voluntary choice, but removing a half-formed uterus from an intersex infant's abdomen is perfectly okay, because it makes the infant more 'normal', even if it wasn't a voluntary choice.

Because who doesn't want to be normal?


Maya

Exploring traumas: sexuality

The most interesting yet also the most dangerous property of traumas is how hard they can be to detect and narrow down. Often it's just an oddity in one's behaviour, or strange thoughts. It's generally not until the right trigger is encountered that the trauma fully comes to the foreground. It's also only through such triggers that one can begin to piece together the full extent of a trauma. One of the most severe types of traumas are probably those related to sexuality.

For myself it's in hindsight not hard to see how such a trauma managed to dig its roots deep into my mind. From the circumstantial evidence that I was sexually abused as a young child, to the degrading relationship between my parents until my father finally ran off with the woman he had been cheating on my mother with, to the advantage guys have taken of my fragile emotional state during the first years after discovering the truth about my intersex condition.

Earlier today I had a sudden emotional breakdown which surprised me. All of it centred around the question 'why did they do that to me?'. I never wanted to be sexually abused. I never wanted to be raped. I never wanted to say 'yes' to those guys doing... things to my body. I never felt I had the right to say 'no'. Yet with every event I could feel another part of myself, of my sense of self-worth, be cut away and discarded. Yet I didn't feel like I had the right to stop it.

I never wanted to say 'yes' to those girls, either. I never really knew why it all happened. Maybe I just went along with it all just to fill this gaping hole where my emotional side was supposed to go. Maybe I was afraid of what would happen if I said 'no'. Maybe I was just lonely.

Today's breakthrough seems to be that I felt simply angry at all of them. At all of those who neglected my feelings and just used me. It's much like when I was finally able to stop blaming myself for having been raped and allowed myself to simply be angry at the pile of excrement which felt that he had the right to use and command me in such a manner.

Maybe even more importantly is that it showed me a glimpse of the complex and intricate wiring underlying my hatred for anything related to sexuality not to mention also anything male. It's a complex mesh of betrayal, trust, loneliness, deception, longing, fear, pain and many more contradicting emotions. Even if I receive that reconstructive surgery this year, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to explore this trauma's web fully and begin to disassemble it.

The betrayal, deception and harm inflicted upon me by physicians merely adds to this existing trauma. It meshes the traumas related to sexuality with those related to my body as a whole into a new... meta-trauma in which my body itself and anything related to it is the trauma, the trigger and the key to destroying the trauma.

At any rate what I'm learning is just how far down the rabbit hole goes. I hope that at least this way I can learn to better understand my own behaviour and urges, to ensure that at the very least I won't be making the same mistakes again, and allow myself to have just that little bit more self-esteem that I seem to need to actually clearly state my feelings to others and to not simply give into the yearning for companionship that loneliness evokes in a social creature.

It's okay to be alone and lonely. It's okay to go a life without feeling loved by another. As long as you can love and respect yourself.


Maya

Relationships and the traumas of others

The book series I'm currently reading features a main character who tries to maintain a relationship with this woman who is heavily traumatized due to a horrific event when she was just a girl. Much of the story revolves around this main character trying to peel away the countless layers of scarring, misdirection, lies, aggression and everything else in an attempt to understand what daemons haunt her. For me this story definitely hits a lot of sensitive spots, as I can relate to many things in it from my own recent past.

The notion of wanting to help someone is a noble, but foolish one. Doubly so in a relationship, whether it's a voluntary one or not. A few years ago I got manipulated into entering a relationship with this one girl. All I can say is that at that time I was feeling incredibly alone and deserted by virtually everyone. To me it felt like some kind of validation of me as a person that I could actually get into a relationship. In hindsight an utterly idiotic notion, of course. This quickly became clear to me over the following months.

Sure, I wasn't completely unaware that this girl was... somewhat unstable. Part of me wanted to see something better in her, though. Maybe the beautiful person I could see through that murky, ugly layer really was there. Maybe not. As my every attempt to help and change her failed it soon became obvious that she was simply manipulating me, both emotionally and physically. I always had to be there to protect her, or she'd throw a tantrum. She'd try to bribe me with more sex some mornings just so that I wouldn't go to work. That was a big thing to her: the physical part. I honestly do not know what parts of her past as she told it to me were true, but I'm quite certain that sex was a big part of it, whether in the form of abuse or worse I cannot tell.

Most of those eight hellish months consisted just out of me spending a few hours at work, trying to not fall asleep, to then rush 'home' and deal with both the verbal and emotional abuse, as well as the constant demands for physical pleasure. Sleep wasn't really an option. Being woken up at night to have sex may sound like a pleasant thing, but by the time it's a regular thing and you're sorely sleep-deprived as a result, it stops being fun and gets you all the enjoyment of being trapped and tortured by a succubus. One of the worst things was the realization that I didn't love or even like this person I had entered a relationship with. I had thought I could help her become a better person - her true self - but in the end I got dragged down into the hell of what probably were her own traumas.

In retrospect, things coming to a painful crescendo at the end of those eight months and me losing all of the possessions I had left behind at the apartment as I fled from it was almost worth it just to be freed from that hell. I'm glad that my mother recognized the dire straits I was in and staged a rescue mission that night to get me to safety. The next months I spent recovering from my ordeal and trying to make sense of it all. What was clear to me was that my noble intentions had turned me into a complete fool and had gotten me nothing but loss and pain as a result.

It doesn't always have to be so traumatic, however. More recently I spent some time with this other girl, who also had her own daemons to fight with. Main difference was that she was a normal, well-adjusted person, just with some traumas sometimes poking through. About as crazy as I am myself, probably. Another big difference is that despite us parting ways in the end, it wasn't because we didn't care about each other any more, but at least from my side in the recognition that spending time together while we both struggled through our own respective traumas would not be beneficial, that we would not be helping each other that way.

The thing with traumas in a relationship is that you get the problem that you are expected to open yourself up fully to that person, which also means that if the other person is traumatized and does things which ultimately result in self-harm or which are otherwise negative, it hits you pretty hard. When you are self then also traumatized, it can be simply too much to bear. For me one of the things which is an absolute rule to me and which has kept me going for more than a decade now is to never, ever harm this body of mine. No matter how much I may hate, loathe and wish to rip this horrific body of myself apart, or wish to drown my sorrows in whatever harmful substances I can get my hands on, I will never allow myself to get past that one limit.

To me this limit, this rule is one of the few things which keep me stable and sane. It's a point of stability, which I can always focus on. Without such an emotional anchor point I'm not sure where I would be now. Probably dead for quite a few years, no doubt. This rule allows me to still feel bad about hurting myself and to desire and demand a proper outcome for this intersex curse which plagues my body. It is an expression of the absolute desire to protect this body and with it myself. Itself probably an expression of both rational thought and survival instinct. All of it is probably as close to the core of my being as one can get.

In that regard, then being in a relationship where the other, also traumatized person, does things which harm one's own body is simply too much. It's akin to one's partner cheating on you with someone else, only worse, as this hits at the very core of your convictions. It feels as if you yourself just violated that one absolute rule. Yet that then doesn't make it any easier to split ways. While I'd gladly erase any memories of the first girl I described, this more recent experience is one which still lingers a lot in my thoughts. It's very bitter-sweet, tinged with disappointment and regret. Part of you keeps insisting that it could have been made to work out, even as you know that you made the right choice. Another part of you just wants to hug this person, to forget about all the bad things.

The most painful lesson I have learned over the past years is that you cannot help the other person in a relationship, or for that matter a friend. They always have to learn how to help themselves. Others can support them in this, but there is only one person who can help oneself.


Maya

Be wary of us sexual abuse victims

Over the past decade I have suffered raped and sexual abuse in various forms by both men and women, by regular people and so-called healthcare personnel including doctors. I have lost myself repeatedly because of previous abuse and allowed others to take advantage of me in ways which still fill me with horror and loathing at the mere recollection. There is also circumstantial evidence that I - just like a cousin of mine - was sexually abused as a young child, though the facts about this are lost in the fogs of time.

All of this has served to make me into the person I am today: someone who despises and loathes sexuality more than anything. Unable to fit something so completely evil and negative into my life, I take great care to avoid it as the mere mentioning of an aspect of it can trigger crippling recollections of events, feelings and traumas which will cause me incredible emotional pain.

Sometimes I dare to utter in public that I'd appreciate it if people were a bit more careful with spilling details about their relationships, sex life and pornography preferences, just in case someone like us is nearby: someone who is still struggling through the consequences of such horrific trauma.

I'm a horrible person for having the nerve to deny others unfettered access to details about anyone's sex life and preferences. I'm playing the victim as I would like others to consider people like us before mentioning something which may potentially trigger a traumatic memory. I'm being a big baby as I try to deny something that's intrinsically part of being human. Others are completely justified in telling me to crawl off somewhere deep and dark where their lascivious behaviour cannot reach me.

People like us do not deserve any compassion, sympathy or understanding. All the suffering we underwent was simply because we were born sinful and undeserving of humane treatment. Every tortured memory and traumatic recollection at a particular sight, touch or smell is just to remind us that we are sinful creatures, only born to lead others astray.

At times like these I simply do not understand anything any more.


Maya

The things left unremembered in one's past

A while ago I touched upon something which may have happened to me when I was still very young. An event which around the age of five turned me from a cheerful, open and very chatty child into one which was withdrawn, quiet and generally avoided contact with others until I was about twenty-one. Not because I consciously wanted to, because I always felt very frustrated at not fitting in and feeling like I somehow not belonged there. During many interviews over the past years I have referred to this change when I was a child as a result of me being intersex and possibly because of my giftedness as well.

Yet as more and more memories are returning to me over the past months, I'm beginning to remember things which do not fit in with that theory. Memories which seem to fit better with a far more disturbing thing which my mother asked me once about, in a very concerned manner. The matter being whether I remember being sexually or otherwise physically abused as a young child. Back then I said that no, I could not remember any such thing ever happening to me and the mere thought seemed ridiculous to me.

The past years that confidence has been slowly eroding, however. Digging further into my past and especially recently remembering things I had completely forgotten about. The important clues are in the way I changed after my fifth year. Becoming quiet and withdrawn are things which can easily happen to children who are gifted or otherwise 'different' from their peers, so that in itself is nothing to get worried about. What is upsetting is that I more and more vividly remember a far more disturbing trend, namely that of... I'd almost call it an obsession with thoughts about sexuality, as well as the worrisome aspect of me exposing myself in a variety of situations.

Especially the latter is more akin to the behaviour observed in young children who suffered sexual abuse, as they begin to imitate or otherwise repeat actions performed or observed. It's a disconcerting notion that I began to do these things without really understanding why it was so important if not obsessive to me. I remember going through a similar period of excessive sexual behaviour after suffering getting raped in 2006. That lasted for over a year until I met someone who made me wake up from that nightmare.

Why would I worry about it if I really did get sexually abused as a 4-5 year old child? It's in the past, right? I'm an adult now and nothing which happened to me as a child can hurt me now. Everyone knows that.

Of course, that's utter nonsense. There has been an increasing number of studies which show just how severe the impact of childhood experiences is, particularly those involving trauma. If it's true that I did suffer sexual or similar abuse at such a young age it'd explain a lot about my behaviour after that time, also about my intense withdrawal from social life and the intense struggle with emotional puberty far beyond what would seem reasonable merely from me being intersex.

It's still possible that nothing happened, and it was all just coincidence. Maybe I was just a weird child that I felt compelled to do those in hindsight incredibly embarrassing things, even if I cannot for the life of me remember what made me do it beyond just 'an urge'. Maybe I'm underestimating the effect my then unrecognised intersex condition had on me, emotionally. Yet the puzzle pieces still don't fit nicely.

Maybe I'll remember some day. Maybe not. Only time will tell.


Maya

On this eve of torture-the-relationally-challenged-day

One of the things of which I have become painfully aware of during the past decode is the disconcerting dissonance between the push to see sexuality as something positive - defining adult humans - and the in comparison rather dark reality. While those still possessed of the innocence befitting the former may see ads for products aimed at making oneself more alluring to potential mates to be an innocent and even desirable thing, those of us who have unfortunately found this veil of innocence to be cruelly ripped away merely cringe at the negative connotations such suggestions generate for us.

For us it's every time a woman tries to be sexy and alluring, or a man (or teenager) boast about 'getting laid' that we cannot help but despair a little inside. See a couple walking on the streets, in a film or in a photograph, and part of you dies and wither away. For us the blatant lie that is the enjoyment of sexuality and the joy of a relationship doesn't exist any more. Any possibility of that was destroyed, trampled upon and crushed when someone who shouldn't have laid hands upon us did just that, or destroyed us from the inside out, or a combination of both. Others just didn't fit in the narrow mould society desires from its members' physical bodies and found themselves cast out and surviving outside the confines of this comfortable lie.

To us the thought of experiencing sexuality or being in a relationship is invariably accompanied by painful, traumatic flashbacks. For every gentle, caring touch and word spoken in love we can put an act of brute violence and words uttered or yelled in anger and maliciousness. Though we would love to let go of these bad memories, it's already too late for us. We have looked behind the curtain and have seen the true face of what society keeps trying to pass off as something wonderful and amazing.

That is not to say that it's impossible to find someone with whom mutual love and respect - even intimately - is a natural thing, but that the path that would lead to such an outcome is practically not traversable for us. This especially amidst the constant insistence by society in general that a relationship and sexuality are normal, healthy things. We can see that for the lie that it is, that both are mostly dark, rotten, festering piles of something very distasteful. Unless handled with extreme care it will hurt you, possibly destroy you.

Those who have felt the seeking hands of lustful men on their bodies as they gave themselves to these men without really knowing why - or worse, without consent - can never lie with a man again without experiencing those memories every single time. One could call it trauma, or alternately the unfortunate knowledge of reality. Ultimately it's the experiencing of those facets of something which many prefer to hold as something that in the end is always positive and beautiful.

Tomorrow will start another round of mating dances and attempts at getting as much sex as possible, all without really knowing why, or with any care for those of us who have gone beyond the lie. It's not really painful any more. No more than every regular day. It's just that we can see the funeral mask slipping, to show the decaying flesh underneath.


Maya

Processing trauma: knowing versus feeling

I can't really point to any particular moment when I began to so vividly remember all of these things from my past. Before it would be just the occasional glimpse, a bad dream or horrible feeling. For the past weeks at least I have extremely intense dreams, often involving scenes related to traumatic things from my past. During the day I'll regularly recall traumatic and less traumatic memories from the past decades with a level of detail which I am completely not used to.

I think I'm beginning to process my traumas.

It's been over a year since I left the Netherlands and with it the primary factor in all of my traumatic events in my life. While it's not been easy getting settled in Germany, it's not been traumatic, and that's the important distinction. Whereas in the Netherlands I was fighting and surviving every day again, even before those horrible physicians and other so-called specialists got their hands on me, here in Germany there's none of that. With the mental pressure and with it the emotional blockades fading, all that's been put away for so long now comes flowing back.

I never forgot anything of what had happened to me, from the horrible sexual assaults and rape, to the physical and psychological humiliation, to the always present feeling of not belonging in this world, of not having a place. It was always there, the basic knowledge of these facts. With my media appearances I could easily recall all of it. Yet one thing was almost completely absent from this all: emotions.

Not that I wish to claim that I have been devoid of emotion in my communications the past years, but as far as my recollections go of these countless traumatic events, I never really felt the associated emotions and related that go with them. I saw the visuals and realized that it was bad, but the associated feelings were missing. Now these are back, and it's in many ways horrible.

I could never describe the full extent of all these traumas, of how it felt, how it ripped away one piece of my soul after another. To face one more humiliation by Dutch physicians after another and another. To see no exit, but only the endless road ahead of me as I trudged on, chasing one false hope after another.

The extent to which I curse having been born with this body, and to which this horrible, impossibly cruel society has reduced me to what I am today. And with it all not knowing why. Why did it have to be like this, why me, why did everyone have to go out of their way to deny me my own body? Was it me? Did I offend someone by not being part of the gender binary? Are people truly this evil? How long do I have to continue to suffer like this?

Processing traumas is not the same as giving them a place and closing the chapter. For me it means that right now I have a bit of a quiet moment after more than a decade of not having the time to just sit down and think about what has happened so far. Maybe I'll feel a little bit less upset about some things which have happened to me, and maybe I'll even be able to reduce my full-blown hatred of sexuality to a mere loathing. In the end, however, I'm just catching up with the thinking and categorizing my brain didn't have the time for until now.

There are no miracles.

Taking a shower and going to bed/waking up are still among the hardest things in my life. I cannot see or feel my own body without being assaulted with painful recollections. Not thinking about it too much is usually the best approach. Don't think about this body of mine. What is is, what it isn't, what I'll never know or understand. What those pains are. Why I have a penis when everything else about my body looks like that of a girl. Why every month the area where I'm supposed to have the entrance of my vagina starts hurting like hell and sitting, walking and lying down is painful at best.

I don't know anything and nobody wants to tell me.

Maybe it's more accurate to say that my emotions in general are returning. Yet with it also comes an amount of emotional pain and agony which appears to be without bounds. I'm becoming more mature in the span of weeks, yet at what cost?

I still want to destroy this body for being so... stupid and weird. Having such strong emotions and feelings again isn't helping with that.

In the end there's just this brick wall I cannot avoid labelled 'medical help' which is insurmountable. I won't 'process' my way past that one, just like how being locked up in a cellar and being sexually abused on a daily basis can't be 'processed' away. Active, continuing traumatic events are a direct threat to one's emotional stability. I am still suffering the same trauma. All the other traumatic events are secondary to it. Great that I can process them now, but once they become less relevant, there's still the Big One.

It's this body, or perhaps more succinctly society itself which is the most traumatic to me.

Is there a fix for that? Over a decade of trying to find one says that there isn't one.

Am I truly deadlocked on this issue?

Am I just talking in rhetorical questions?


Maya