The Razor Blade Cannon

I am trans. But I have spent the last 50 years hiding out as a male version of myself.

Because of that, I am struggling immensely with "passing" today. It’s not just about looks—it's about the way I talk. For five decades, my voice was explicitly designed to run people off. I learned early on that to protect myself, I had to attack first.

When I get into that defensive frame of mind, I envision my mouth as what I call the Razor Blade Cannon. My teeth turn into razor blades pointing in every single direction. When I’m ready to attack, I fire off words specifically designed to cut a person down to absolutely nothing, ensuring they will never, ever want to interact with me again. Sometimes I feel bad about it. Other times, I’m just glad that version of human is no longer around to deal with.

But this is a massive problem for me now. I am finally trying to live as my true self, but that scared person is still hiding out on the inside, ready to light the fuse like an evil Daffy Duck. I know that when I do this, it blows up in my face, but it’s a core part of my defenses.

I grew up on Looney Tunes, and sometimes I think I’m Wile E. Coyote. Everything I build to protect myself blows up in my face.

I originally got into IT because I was good with computers. I assumed that people who worked with technology would be more logical, analytical, and accepting. But when I walked in and started meeting the fiercely loyal, conservative IT people that inhabit my section of the world, I realized very quickly that they were not open-minded.

I had hoped to transition at this job after being too scared to try in the early 90s, but suddenly, that didn’t seem possible. The real trap was that I was making more money than ever before. This combined with the complete lack of confidence that I could get another job meant I stayed at this company to this day.

So, I crawled right back into the closet, hid in the background, and let my front-line defenses fire at will. That army of defenses snapped to attention and didn't wait for orders.

My cannon became a highly effective, automated weapon and I used it without thinking. I would answer the desk phone with a blunt, "What the fuck do you want?" If someone stepped over the line in an email chain, I would publicly eviscerate them to every single person cc'd on the thread.

I was a monster and still am sometimes. You see, over those 20+ years, I grew angrier on the inside. I would hide this anger with humor and isolation. I grew not to care if I hurt someone's feelings because I was right and they were wrong, and fuck them if they can't take it. Today, I can hear the anger in my head and I am afraid of what I will say or destroying someone by accident. Back then I didn't care. I was going to push everyone away, and if they didn't like it, well, my razor blades would convince them to run for cover.

Having a reputation as someone who will launch a verbal assault at the drop of a hat isn't fun for the people around you. I know my recent trainee was absolutely terrified to train with me. I tried really hard to be encouraging to him—even though I knew he wasn't ready for the level of responsibility we were throwing at him. He even did what I do and tried to joke with the team that he was scared.

This is not okay, and I wish the reality was that people were comfortable working with me. I now know that people are terrified when they have to speak to me. The training went fine, but even then, people were surprised he survived. You would think he was sent on a mission with no chance of coming back alive, instead of just learning a new process.

This is just a recent example. The cannon hasn't fired for a while, but I think the snipers are taking shots that I don't recognize. Rehabilitating my reputation at work isn't my top priority, but I do wish my defense mechanisms weren't constantly on high alert. I don't think rehab is possible with this deep-seated fear of my coworkers.

I have this massive army waiting to do battle to defend my trans secret. If anyone gets too close to capturing the flag, the army fires a nuclear weapon at the offending person. But that army also goes on the attack for people I care about. This happened in the early part of my career when we were a tight team. I was really proud to be on the engineering team after coming in on a six-month contract for low-level work.

I was working on a weekend, and things weren't going well. I had created something that fixed a program on the PCs, and this application team manager started on my team, keeping on saying we needed to use the thing I created. I resisted, knowing that it wouldn't fix the issue. He kept ranting and then started bad-mouthing my team. Then, the entire army went into shock and awe. The assault was brutal, and he stopped talking.

There I was, thinking I was the Coyote and the cliff was about to drop out below me. So Monday morning, I rushed to work to apologize to my own manager, and he just laughed it off. I didn’t get fired or reprimanded—nothing happened to me. I didn't even get written up, and they actually defended me against the application team manager. I was entirely in the wrong in the way I handled it, but they made it seem like I was right to attack this person. I later heard he tried to get me fired and it went absolutely nowhere; the people on the phone defended me, and I escaped punishment. To this day, some people at work think that moment is legendary. I just feel shame that I lost control that badly. I could have stopped him and logically explained why he was wrong, but that damn cannon fired over and over that day.

Now that the female version of me is finally trying to find her way, that little character standing by the cannon with the match is getting incredibly trigger-happy. I am trying so hard to watch how I say things, but my words always come out with too much edge. And when I am tired? When it gets past 9 PM? You better watch out. Those razors turn into daggers, and they can be truly evil.

I am ashamed of this part of myself. I am not entirely sure why I am writing down the darkest part of my personality for the internet to see. This topic honestly makes me feel bad about myself. But maybe by putting it into words, we can appease that presence by the fuse for a bit. Or maybe we can finally melt the cannon down and turn it into something more interesting,

Like a new tire carrier for my Jeep.

Speaking of Jeeps, I am thinking I actually need a new tire carrier. I just put 33-inch tires on it and...

Okay, that was going to be a way to end this topic funnily—is that a word? Fuck it, it is today.

So, there it is. This is the topic that took me months to write. I am trying to rehabilitate my army. But right now, they are staging a mutiny, and they are definitely not on board with this new version of me.

Useless Recap

• I don't feel like making funny jokes.
• This topic makes me feel bad about myself.
• After 9 PM I can be truly evil.
• I am ashamed of this part of myself.