Testosterone Monologues
(6 minutes)

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TESTOSTERONE MONOLOGUES
© 2003 Thomas David Kehoe

I went to Bryn Mawr College. I chose a women's college because I strongly identified as a woman at the time. I mean, I was a woman. I was this butch dyke. I had my leather jacket, my black t-shirts, my Doc Martens. And that felt pretty comfortable for awhile.

And then sophomore year, I was lying in bed with my girlfriend. We were talking, whatever, and it just hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I just knew that I had to change my body. I've had top surgery but not bottom surgery. And I get testosterone shots.

I had a medical disorder. My body stopped producing testosterone. I lived without testosterone for four months before my doctors caught the problem.

There are things about my own personality that I find offensive that were disconnected then. Envy. The desire to judge things. To judge people. It was nice to be without that.

Before testosterone, when I would see an attractive woman I would think, you know, I'd like to meet her, you know, I could talk to her, this is what I would say, it would be very verbal.

After testosterone there was no language whatsoever. I'd see an attractive woman, and my mind would become a pornographic movie house. And I could not turn it off.

I remember standing at the Xerox machine and this big shuddering warm inanimate object was just driving me crazy.

I had no desire. I didn't want my food to taste good or interesting. I could eat a loaf of Wonder Bread, with mayonnaise, and that was my day.

There was this woman walking in front of me. She was wearing this little skirt and this little top. I kept looking at her ass, so I passed her, you know, to walk in front of her, but this voice in my head kept saying, turn around, look at her breasts. My feminist background kept saying don't you dare, you pig, don't turn around. I fought myself for a whole block. And then I turned around and checked her out.

I would see a woman, and think, "A woman." Then I'd see a brick in a wall and I would think, "A brick in a wall." It was all the same to me.

When I was a butch dyke, it was cool to see women as sexy. It was raw, it was cutting edge. Now I'm just a jerk.

I wanted to be a man like James Dean. But I was better at that as a dyke. I was always really cool, and popular, and hip. Now I'm five-foot-four, I work out but I'm small. I'm losing my hair. I'm a nerd. Sometimes I want to tell people about my past so they won't think I'm so boring.

You would think that this was a terrible thing, a terrible state to be in, but it was weirdly beautiful. Everything was equally beautiful. Being without testosterone was a blessing.

The biggest thing I miss is the close relationships with women. I still have close relationships with the women I've known since before testosterone. But I don't make close relationships with new female friends. I really miss being part of a cool bunch of women. I like women more than men, but I fit in better as a man. Being a man makes every day a challenge, but testosterone makes you love the challenges.

I'm still learning how to be a man in the world. There's a lot to learn.