I'm a female-born and identified partner, wife, girlfriend, squeeze, lover—you name it—of a Transman (FTM). After spending his life stuck in the wrong body, he's transitioning to become the man he has always been. This is our journey from my point of view. Right now it's anonymous so if you know us, please respect that. But we both really appreciate comments.
So you try it. Try to get through a whole day without using a personal pronoun for the person you love. You think it's easy, right? I mean, who hard can it be to say, this person over here will have the Caesar for dinner. R has suggested this. While he's still not passing, we're in this never/never land, this in-between state. He's a he, but he's still presenting as a she. I'm getting to be OK with this. And I think he's OK because in his head, he's already a man. Has always been a man, (that's the point, right?) but his body is changing to match what's in his head. So it makes sense for him to want me to call him a he. And yet, it's awkward. Right? It's confusing in my brain. Because inside my little head, he is kind of still a she, even though he's never really been a she. See? If I complete that sentence any more, it will be as twisty as my thoughts. But the hard part is some people still know him as a she and some people still perceive him as a she. So if I say he, I get a funny look or a look of flat out confusion. And I get a dirty look from R. So do I really want to explain to the flight attendant that oh, he's transitioning? No. Do I need to? No. Do I feel compelled? Kind of. Kind of . Do I care? No. I don't care. I only care what R thinks. It's just confusing. Sometimes, even I find myself referring to a friend and inside my brain, the thought zips through: is that a girl or a boy? Gender. Gender. Gender.