Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Agony

Breath held, I tiptoe, figuratively. My fluid psyche movements swimming over the sharp edges of something that is digging in bone-deep and bleeding me dry from the inside. Breath held, my swimming in tears eyes burningly drink in your sleeping silhouette; I am at turns glad and mad about the fact that you’re facing me, just this once, in your sleep. You must almost feel the heat of my eyes roving over your face taking a million of snapshots that will sustain me when you do what you said you would. My eyes must feel hot. I feel hot and stifled although our bedroom temperature is about 10 degrees Celsius, nowhere near sufficiently hot. Breath held I gaze at you till I start seeing brilliantly lit up, morphing patterns out of dark shadows in the ravines and plateaus of your facial structure: the sudden bursts of optical illusions and brilliant colours at either your right eye, or the middle of your forehead, or the endlessly black hole where your mouth should be, I am jolted to shift my eyes to readjust them, check that it is you, still, lying next to me, not some monster visiting me every so often in my dreams from one of the infinite parallel universes. I shift my focus away from your face and now suddenly beginning to labour breathing and even a tiny whimper – are you pretending to be asleep?... How can you even sleep?! I turn away my head and watch the pattern of pale pink roses and broken waves of minuscule golden squares from the floor to the ceiling, the wallpaper of the bedroom that has been examined all too many times while I lay awake all too many consecutive times last summer when I moved here. The insomnia of those days corresponds to the insomnia of these days. Breath held I return my gaze to you to only see that you’d opened your eyes and are watching me watch you and then the wallpaper. You close your eyes, sigh and turn away, and I feel like you had just slammed some door in my face. I feel like screaming and smashing everything around, everything except your make-belief sleep and your precious, precious body. Instead of a deliberate, methodical destruction of the surroundings that was the normal response five years ago, I choose to gut myself: I tell myself that this was coming, that this was the only resolution to the situation. I tell myself that I deserve this. All of this. Perhaps not. Not all of this. I deserve love, right?...

A few hours ago you made a decision that is now keeping me awake, all gutted out and screaming silently – I wish I was in the middle of a desert where no one will witness the hoarse, low, drawn screams till this agonising sensation that makes me want to thump my chest till it cracks open and lets out all the frothy blood and air in it, dissipates. But I must not disturb you: we’d been at it for hours, you’re finally asleep. You said you made a decision because I answered honestly to your question that yes, I was missing those peculiarly lit-up eyes, faces and, and the feelings behind them called being-in-love. If I didn’t feel loved – and that’s very new for me to be with someone where I feel I am not completely loved – if I didn’t feel that you were in love with me, how could I trust you to not take away what little you give me? All the displays of affection with friends always so ready, never with me, or never enough, not even in the most private of spaces. Even in the single public space where we should and can be free to be ourselves, you still choose to do things with others that we should but never do. You made a decision. For hours all I am is tears, silent sobs replaced by violent sobs, followed by a staring-at-the-wallpaper catatonia, followed by a silent flow again. All I do is curse myself for being madly in love with you, for being so in love that I had begun to want that feeling of obsessive love returned, reciprocated even when I knew you didn’t exactly feel that way about me: I always knew I simply grew on you. Before I knew, I began taking all your secretiveness, irritation and/or tiredness as a simply another negative proof of your feelings, or their lack thereof. I became so unsure and thus scared of losing what I had with you that I began to think of all the reasons I should break up with you so that at least I was in control of that loss. Had I been sure of your feelings, had I been sure of your affection, had I been sure that you were with me because you chose me without reservations, we may not have ever gotten here. But here we are. Can love overcome everything?

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

unravelling

unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling
unravelling

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

мэдрэмжээс өөр үнэн үгүй

цусаа үл дийлэн хаа нэг газар тээглэх зүрх. зог тусах. дуслах. үг бүрийн цаадах утга. дахин дахин дахин давтагдан эрээлжлэх. нүцгэн сүнсний үггүй монолог. гэрэлтэх нүд, бас ор үгүйг хайх нүд. бүдрэх. цочих. хүрэх төдийд бутран хийсэх цасан сүнсний итгэм бүүвэй. зүрхний аянга. хаа нэгтээх нутгийн гудамж. шаналал. угалзрах төгсгөлгүй зам. үггүй залбирал. далайн гийюүрэл. тархины нугалам бүрээс асгарах хүрхээ. дэлбэрэлт. ногоон тайвширал. удаашрах, хурдсах. хурдсах, удаашрах. зогсох. утгыг үүсгэгч, бүгдийг үгүйсгэгч. мэдрэмжээс өөр үнэн үгүй. учир нь мэдрэмж үйлийн үрийн үндэс.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Valentine's special

So three and a half months after finding myself in a very fulfilling, loving and supportive relationship with a gay guy, I am about to wake up in a few days to my first Valentine's day with him. The most important thing that I realised since my gorgeous man appeared in my life: all was not lost

Nearly four years of being single for the first time in more than a decade inculcated many insecurities on my part regardless of the fact that those four years of relationship vacuum provided me with the body and voice I've consciously longed to look at, to feel and to hear since the age of 10. Reasons were many: my inability to let go of the emotional ties with the past, being stuck in the middle of everything in terms of everything, plus my own queer community in Mongolia being trans-insensitive, trans-unsensitised, and at times, extremely transphobic. Especially the gay guys. Which was the problem. My insecurity arising out of the fact that I had been dealing with transphobia (read, from verbal derision to physical assault and everything in between) in more measure than I had asked for from late 2011 made me question my boyfriend's emotions, love and care. I just couldn't believe that the smart, independent hunk of a man would be genuinely in love with me, that he chose to be with me regardless of other hundreds, thousands, cis gay men who would be only too lucky to have him. I kept steeling my heart against a heartbreak that I thought was inevitable. No matter how much I was in love with him and wanting to believe that he was as in love with me, I kept telling myself "This is just a fad for him: the newness will wear off, he will want the men with bodies and appendages that I don't have, right now, never mind the far-off future." 

Until the blowout moment of make-it or break-it realisation: my million insecurities were jeopardising and stifling the life out of our relationship. My insecurity about my body specifics, my insecurity resulting from the fact that this is my first relationship with a man ever, my insecurity about the genuineness of his feelings as opposed to the kinkiness that I thought his desire was solely, my insecurity about my own ability to be in a relationship with a man, my insecurity about our personally unimagined age difference of 17 years, my insecurity about the fact that I had only been in a relationship once before in my life where my passion for the human rights for my own community was deeply shared, my activism for my other exes being always something that they condescended at worst, or nilly-willy tolerated at best, my insecurity about the transphobia-related treatment that the gay guys would dish out to my boyfriend, led to the corrosion of the very foundation of our relationship: the unconditional acceptance of each other as we are, the unconditional choice of each other as worthy objects of love, the unconditional acceptance of the present and everything that comes with it. 

Three and a half months down the line, all I can say is that I am happy. Genuinely happy. Because when I let go of my insecurities, all that I was left with was love on my part and love on his part. And I can finally say out loud "Mongolian gay men are extremely transphobic, but not my boyfriend." I am now peacefully looking forward to spending my first Valentine's with him, first of many, assuredly, as long as we continue to be fully present and aware of our love for each other. 

And a small proviso, two years later, on my blog entry on advantages of dating a transman: well, transmen come in different packages, and some of us are even gay! Happy Valentine's to all who are in love, regardless of your sexual orientation or gender identity.

Monday, February 2, 2015

хайр, үнэн, худал, г.м.

хайрын тухай зөндөө л бодов. яагаад бодсоноо бодов. хайрыг бясалгах болсон нь хүртэл хайр гэдэг хэзээ ч тодорхой биш болохоор л. хайртай л гэнэ. нэг секундын эргэлзээ үүсэхэд л хайртайгаа ч мартана, аварга балиус шаана, цусны чимээгүй чарлаан л үлдэнэ... хайрын тухай бодсоор.

үнэний талаар хэрэндээ л бодов. яагаад бодсоноо бодов. эсрэгцэл, харьцуулалт, логик, энэ тэр хамаа байж уу. үнэндээ л мэдрэхүй. хэний ч бодит байдал, хэний ч үнэн зөвхөн түүний мэдрэмж. үнэн хайрын тухай бясалгаж, цусаа урстал уйлав.

худал үгсийн талаар санав. зөндөө л дурсамж. худал дээр үндэслэсэн бүх зүйл эцэстээ нурдаг, яг л нэг өнгийн зүйлийг хэчнээн дээр нь өөр өнгөөр будсан ч цаг хугацаанд тэр түрхлэг ховхорч, гуужиж, гандаад зөвхөн уг зүйл өөрөө л үлддэг шиг.

үнэн гэдэг нь юу билээ? хайр билүү?... 

бодсоор... бодмооргүй байхад.

Crowdfunding!

As many of you know, we are doing an online crowdfunding for the first time in the history of the Centre, and it happens to be for the Equa...