I am feeling a little confused.

Last night, I sent hubby the a link to the six posts about International Eunuch Day. I hadn’t really expected him to do anything with them, but he did read them all, and then we talked about about identity and descrimination.

He was curious why identity is so important to me now and asked how it was when I first came out as a gay man when I was twenty-one. Back then, I was full of fear and the world was a different place (I was physically attacked once); it took me quite some time to really grasp that identity, own it, and be proud of it.

Regarding my eunuch identity, I was warned by quite a few people that it would not make me happy and that it would ruin my life. Even before I was had my gender-affirming surgery, I decided that from the outset that I would be proud of who I am and really inhabit and own the newly realised aspects of myself.

It has been just over a year since my surgery (at time of writing), so perhaps its still a little bit novel and exciting. I guess that I also have a bit of a mission to make it OK for others who feel the similarly as me about their body, gender, and identity to make the transition if it is right for them to do so.

The husband did question my comments about discrimination against eunuchs, asserting that since we are largely invisible, unless we choose to self-disclose, it is impossible for people to display prejudice. There is some truth to that – most people I meet do not know that I don’t have testicles. the most I have had is somebody poking fun at me for wearing pink jogging bottoms, however that’s not really anything to do with what is – or isn’t – in my pants.

Some eunuchs are much more trans-presenting and as such can fall victim to the discrimination and prejudice against trans people. This is one reason why I feel that eunuchs and more “traditional” trans-people are natural allies.

Which leads to why I feel that, even in the UK, eunuchs are discriminated against:

• Valid surgical reasons for castration – my friend Tacitus, aside from having gender dysphoria, had excruciating testicular torsions, which the NHS refused to treat – and furthermore blocked anybody else from treating! All because they prioritise the ability to breed over a basic desire not to be in pain.
• Access to resources – getting access to NHS gender care resources is difficult and long-winded and not guaranteed to result in the treatment that’s needed by eunuch-identified individuals. They are likely to refuse outright or require that you live as a woman for a few years taking the wrong hormones because non-binary genders are not properly recognised.
• Confusion in medical and psychiatric circles – my doctor lost referrals, got confused over who had accepted and who had rejected my referrals. There was no clear process for her to follow (although that might, in the end, have worked out for the best!).
• Lack of recognition for non-binary genders – not just in the NHS, but throughout public services.

So, why was I confused?

I’ll admit that I felt anxious and might have been a little defensive in the conversation. I suspect that might be because so many of our discussions are confrontational; it’s quite hard to switch gear! The husband has very direct way of asking questions and I feel attacked sometimes, which isn’t good in a normal conversation about something not as emotionally charged as circling the end of our marriage.

We slept together last night. It was lovely. He came up to our bed late – the first time in months that we had been in the same bed. I didn’t sleep so well, but I wanted to make the most of having his beautiful warm body in physical contact with my own.

I am confused because – well – what does this say? I don’t know!