Aging in a transition body

when estrogen, progesterone and grey hair all get together

Getting old as a trans person is a privilege. I recognize this and qualify that any time I find myself getting frustrated with how aging is taking over my body.

Trans people simply do not get the opportunity to age the same way cis people do. Lack of gender affirming care, inaccessible mental health care, inaccessible physical care, anti-trans legislation, bullying from classmates, reluctance to talk to family, higher suicide rates, higher murder rates, you name it, there are reasons for trans people, and even more so trans people of colour, to not live the same long lives as cis counterparts.

Aging also feels a bit scary because I feel like I'm starting a new sort of life when my body is already through with me. I have only been transitioning for about four years. I have been medically transitioning for closer to three. In these terms, my outwardly trans life, my openly trans life, is so so young.

But there is no question that as 45 creeps up on me (not so quietly as the bones in my body will attest), I am trying to take on aging in a kind and gentle way that allows me to see the privilege of age and also the uniqueness of how I get to go through it.

My skin is wrinkling and showing many years of crying and laughing and shaving and going to bed sad without washing and moisturizing and going to bed happy with makeup still on.

My skin is showing fights with weight and and our world’s obsession with skinny. This has certainly not gotten easier as I try to make my way through hormone medication and wanting to show my body in a way that is different than it was pre-progesterone and estradiol.

My bones are sore from marathons run and bone density decreasing. Arthritis has started showing up in little places.

My hair is greying at a rate I can’t cover up exactly at the same time I am trying to grow it our for the first time in my life.

None of these things really scream puberty or youthfulness. Or, they don’t scream this in the way we traditionally think of puberty or youthfulness. And that’s where I’m spending my efforts shifting my line of thinking.

Nothing about me has to fit any notion others have of what normal means. My body changes are exactly in line with where they should be right now. That I’m growing breasts at the same time my hair is going grey is kinda freaking cool. It’s fun trying pigtails when my bones creak climbing every step to my desk at work. Putting multi-colored eye shadow on eyes with wrinkles is a badass way to push back against all the skin cream ads I’m getting on Instagram right now.

Aging has always felt odd. The idea of growing up and not dressing fun has always felt strange even before transition. At this point, it’s just really cool to be layering in a transition into how much we can all push back against the idea of shrinking and getting quiet with age.

Get loud, be loud, and stay loud.