I wrote this in like, March 2012. I’m much better, now capable of cussing you out!
“Can Not Spit It Out.”
Sometimes, I can. Most times, I can’t.
It’s a little bit hinted at in my profile, “Fight or flight” overactive, especially the “flight” part. (The “Fight” portion is a whole other post.)
I bolt. Like the bunny, like the deer. I mentally hold myself still and the instant something becomes Something I take off for cover.
I don’t know what it is. “I’m shy” appears to cover the gist of it. I could speculate til the cows come home over all the points- bullied? check. Worried about peers/fear of judgment? check-o. But there’s certainty in two points: the sometimes crippling fear of rejection and pain, and the fact I’m so restrained- don’t say what I like most of the time (until Liquid Courage steps in, and even then, it’ll take some coaxing) and try (perhaps much too hard) to have my emotions under control- I worry that if I say what I felt, I’d hurt someone- a learned thing (grew up in a household of “emotions are weak” mentality). Or I’d lose perspective.
The Restraints, especially, cause me to stop short of admitting many things.
The hell do I do once I get tongue-tied, other than keep working on it?
Push through it.
The most recent kerfunkle happened because I couldn’t just come out and say it (yes, it is the one I mentioned in the last aptly-filtered post on some other blog site: “Some angst and heartache could’ve been avoided if I had outright said so earlier.”). But earlier before that, I had mentioned I was scared, but went ahead and told her my feelings anyway- the beginnings of a sweet crush.
But I find myself still making the same mistakes.
I have to remember that it’s better to speak up- and the most important things are sometimes the hardest to say….
I also take my sweet time processing a response- mostly, wondering, if it’s the right thing to say or if I should even say it. And if it’s worded adequately.
So… that’s why I do what I do. Why I look down at my hands and chuckle nervously. Why I don’t say anything even though you could probably see it on my face anyway, because I utterly fail at the poker face trick. Why your message would sit in my inbox for over three days because I’m mulling over whether my first reaction was appropriate- or should be toned down- or should be mentioned at all- or– it goes on.
Critiquing is easy. It’s heart-matters I have trouble with.
I may have been a little too excited in firing off a hasty fangirl-y email to an address that probably isn’t even monitored anymore, but I was so happy that I found the site I’ve been alluding to since college. All I had to do, all this time, was to browse my old middle-and-high school files for a certain animation with a certain username on it.
Blink and you miss it: http:// members. aol. com/ chibiusa97.(1) The pieces fell into place from there. So I sent an email. …Well, less polished and rushed than what you see here, perhaps, but the sentiment is the same.
Hello,
As I tend to do as Web 3.0 breathes down our necks, I sit back and reminisce about The Old Web… when everyone built their own little piece. I remember your website dedicated to Chibi Usa, who was also my favorite Sailor Scout. You had one of my favorite web pages in the late 90s, so I was always a little saddened that I could never remember the URL or who you were.
So, imagine my delight when I came across one of your old .ani files in my archives! A quick search of your username later and I navigated to your CS100 assignment. It’s still up, after all these decades. Coming across sites like that is like peering back into time.
The Internet is/was a very cool place, and I’m still amazed at how information is communicated on this medium, and how it has grown.
And how sites have inspired me, such as yours.
So I want to say, thank you. As a kid in 1997 browsing the Web in middle school Computer Club, to the almost-40 adult who still has a passion for this sort of thing. I hope you’re still in it, enjoying anime, and I hope this email reaches you well.
Take care,
“me”
I propose a toast for ChibiUsa97, and all the ChibiUsa97s still floating around, coding and enjoying what they love.
(1) That link no longer works, natch. However, you can view the page on the Wayback Machine. That hyperlink points to the version I’m most familiar with, but do slide around the timeline and see how it changed over the years!
probably FFX-2 (but most definitely Unlimited SaGa)
Because it didn’t need all the hate I gave it. I will still argue that playing X-2 right after X can give you mood whiplash, but that didn’t deserve me writing paragraphs about how much it sucked. i’d do anything to find the bullshit i wrote so i can tear it to shreds It did carry the same score as Xenosaga, at one point, so I eventually did give it another go.
It’s fun! But don’t play it without a guide. Ask me how I know.
Unlimited SaGa was gorgeous and it’s one of my favorite games now. Other than presentation, I can’t quite remember why I dogged on it so much. That was probably the only reason. And that’s a damn shame. Its soundtrack did end up being one of my absolute I’ll-take-it-with-me-on-a-deserted-island albums.
Mary Sues
This is one of those things where I look back on and criiiiinge. You could say it was all about the sanctity of writing all you want, but if you look at the demographic of people that wrote self-inserts with sparkly eyes constantly stealing the limelight, something becomes apparent.
It was thinly-veiled an excuse to shit on creative teenage girls. (In my defense, I was also a teenage girl. At least I wasn’t a man in my 20s or 30s hatin’ on them. That’s fucking weird.) It’s still used today, but much less prevalent– and, if you ask the Old Heads, completely incorrectly. Mary Sues had, more or less, this sort of (highly subjective) criteria:
an OC (Original Character) author-insert
impossibly perfect (in looks and/or ability, or both)
accompanined by purple prose (“bad writing”)
terrible characterization (“more bad writing”)
an OOC (out-of-character) magnet for the canon cast
love interest to a canon character(s)
hasn’t done anything to earn in-story praise, credibility, attention, love…
And nowadays there are a few nuanced takes, such as this one on the PPC Wiki (or, "that thing where you spork stuff I guess"; please, i don’t want to further go into this where are you taking me):
Mary Sue is shallow: she cares only about herself and achieving her own goals. She is uninteresting, because she has no real conflict. Neither is she well-crafted, but characterized almost exclusively by how she looks, or how much her past sucks, or how good she is with her skill of choice. Worst of all, she warps or shoves aside everything we love about the canon and its people in order to put herself forward. Mary Sue has no respect for the work into which she intrudes. “Mary Sue” at PPC Wiki
Now I’ve noticed it’s been thrown around as code for "this female character is too cool, and I’m jealous actually." Straight up misogyny (and when it applies, misogynoir). The most recent example of this particular type of "Canon Sue" is Rey from the Star Wars franchise. Which, as Lily Orchard pointed out, was ironic considering Rey’s characterization suffered and became a "Mary Sue" in order to appeal to the very same people complaining about her (source). Star Wars fans really hate themselves.
There was a website called "Mary Sue Dolls" where someone did those little pixelized representations of, well, people’s Mary Sue characters. I loved flipping through them and seeing how elaborate they could get. I haven’t been able to find an archive, but I faintly remember the last years of that domain. It was still up, but with an apology on the only page.
But yeah. Let fanfic writers have fun. Let girls have fun, ffs.
If you hate bad writing and characterization, just fucking say that.
If you still don’t know WTF I’m talking about, or just want to know more, Izzzyzzz‘s video is pretty succinct.
Kelly, of “Shoes” fame
In college I was like "ew what is this vapid garageband bullshit." Fortunately, that pretentious shit only lasted a couple of months, if not days. Especially when I noticed Kelly’s songs were helping my then-girlfriend get through a tough time. If people love and take strength from something, could it really be that bad? Honestly, if you can create art with any tools at your disposal, it’s still freakin’ art.
Also, I was sold once I heard "Txt Msg Brkup." That was a banger.
Final Fantasy VII Remake (and so on)
I’m a little ashamed to admit this: when an actual Remake for Final Fantasy VII became reality– not a hoax or tech demo!– I was annoyed. Maybe even… livid. I took the announcement as a personal affront and cynical cash grab. You name it, I said it. I wasn’t happy that they were messing with my baby.
…Yes, it’s actually their baby, but I didn’t have to be happy about it, damn it!
And yet, I followed it’s development up to launch from the corner of my eye. I was still intrigued and curious. The more I read, the more I softened up the the reality of the thing, and eventually I made my peace with it. I wished I could have been more charitable from the start, regardless of what it’d become. The original will still be there for me to enjoy, after all.
Also, it brought us this:
CHERITH!!! Mod by Crandifff.
How about some engagement?
So– what stuff did you hate, but ended up loving– or at the very least, tolerating? Leave a comment and I’ll eventually drag it out of the comment filters! :3
A ramble from my previous post about movies, exactly what it says on the tin! We were poor and didn’t have cable. And don’t fucking act like you wouldn’t pirate Disney movies nowadays.
Jokes aside, my dad was a huge fan of animation, and Disney was definitely up there. Middle fingers to The Establishment were secondary.
Maybe.
The Rescuers Down Under
I feel like this entry is one of the most under-rated Disney movies, and to this day I am not sure how it just flew under everyone’s radar– it doesn’t seem to have cult classic vibes, either. It’s an absolutely beautiful film!
…oh it went up against Home Alone. Say no more.
The Great Mouse Detective
Two words: Vincent Price. With his criminal brain. And definitely not a rat.
Rock-A-Doodle
Gotcha! It’s a common mistake. Bluth did work for Disney for awhile, tho.
The Little Mermaid
I like mermaids.
101 Dalmations
The music.
Bambi
The music.
Peter Pan
I’ll be honest, I loved this movie as a child. There was adventure! Kids were flying! Tiger Lily was my imaginary best friend! but when i got older OH SHIT THAT SHIT WAS RACIST
Bloganuary Prompt: What do you complain about the most?
The one thing I bitch about the most? Heteronormality.
Nah, scratch that; it’s how binary everything freakin’ is.
No, wait! How I’m expected to be androgynous because I’m non-binary.
No, wait, it’s how the [insert community here] has a racism problem it refuses to acknowledge.
Okay, let’s go with that one. It hurts my heart when I’m hit with racist microaggressions when I exist in queer-forward spaces, on top of the general history of Whiteness marginalizing anyone that isn’t white.
Wait, no, let’s take it a step further with [community] has a [bigot] problem it refuses to acknowledge, if not actively encourage. And it really hurts when it feels like these peers should get it, you know?
Because why the fuck is biphobia still a fucking problem in the overall queer community? I’ve friends who are currently shouted down and erased because they’re never seen as queer enough.
And all of my Black peers stay away from the Hoteps of the diaspora because they insist on hetero normativity, and toxic masculinity.
You know what? It’s bigoty. That’s what I complain about the most.
That’s it, that’s the post, because I’m tired of repeating myself ad nauseum. We’ll be here all day with the long list of examples I can illustrate.
A bitch is tired. I’ll probably expand on this at a later date, complete with personal anecdotes. But for now, just allow me to get to the point:
Solidarity ain’t shit when you’re still a fucking bigot.
Damn, this is embarassing that I still can’t spell embarrassing. Nevertheless, I’m still glad I found this draft just bumbling about when I was switching from Evernote to Joplin. I wouldn’t shut up about this science fiction series and my nesting partner finally picked it up: Remembrance of Earth’s Past by Liu Cixin.
I threatened him with My Thoughts on The Third Book once he was finished. And yo did I have some feelings about it. So here they are! With minimal editing since I wanted to preserve as much as my initial thoughts as possible. This series– and the fourth book, when did that happen!? That’s amazing!– requires a (re)read as well.
OK. There’s some editing: I added memes. THERE’S ALSO SPOILERS.
EDIT: One more thing, actually.
I never posted this on Bookreads because there were waaaaaay too many sexism-apologist scifi bros being lil shits. So this was tucked away in my Evernote and rattled about. Until now.
But yeah, right at the jump: if you don’t agree with my read on this book, I don’t care. … Don’t bother engaging; I’ll just mock the shit outta you.
Another revisited post. If you know where I’m from you better shuuuush! But seriously.
Disclaimer
This is about my experience as a non-binary person and is not meant to be the end-all-be-all for the non-binary experience. There is no one-size-fits-all narrative since they are so personal. Your mortality rate will also skyrocket if you attempt any of the following: Cissexism, refusal to respect my pronouns, and imply that I am some sort of tumblrina or special snowflake. And I’ll gladly arrange for your funeral if you outright state it. Since people are killed for being trans and living their truth, it’s only fair to put you in the ground if you try that shit. 🙂
respect my trans homies or i will identify as a fucking problem
Probably AdrianLeewayne via Twitter, but it is all over the Internet and I was unable to find a definitive source
Now, with that out of the way…
Calling Card
Under the non-binary umbrella, I’ve been feeling agender these days. Agender demifemme, to be precise. I’m not on the gender binary whatsoever, nor am I a mix of both binary genders. I do feel a connection to femme, however, with butchy undertones. I feel like I’ve come a long way from my first label of "genderqueer" and still use that sometimes.
It is a possibility that I am genderfluid. This is pending further investigation. 🙂
I also consider myself transgender. I’m the black (or white) stripe in the middle of the transgender flag!
Pronoun Trouble
If the good sir Shakespeare thought well
enough to use a singular they,
hoping as he did, that his words would
carry to this modern day,
then how sayest you that ‘they’ upon thine ears land shrill?
If’t be good enough for him, then good enough f’r thou t’will.
ey/em, which I think of as they/them with less letters. I’m a lazy thing.
“Yo.” Yeah, seriously. It’s pretty dope. I tend to default to this when speaking, in place of “man” or “dude.”
Fun Fact: My VTuber persona uses px/px… like in pixel. I’m a nerdy thing.
Honorifics
“Per.,” (as in, “Person”), and it sounds like purr. Cute!
“Mx.” also works in a pinch.
“Captain” has also been used here and there. I enjoy the ring of it.
Expression
There is little precedent for fat androgyny. Generally our androgynous icons are svelte and lacking in secondary sex characteristics. David Bowie, Tilda Swinton, Katherine Hepburn; these small-bodied, predominately white figures of androgyny have created an aesthetic with little room for deviation. This means that for those of us with bodies that do not conform to traditional standards of androgyny, we are often misread and misunderstood, even in queer spaces.
Clothes have no inherent gender to me. If I like how it looks, I’ll wear it and break a few fashion laws in the process. My ideal is "neither," but I’ll settle for Confusing the Cishets. At any rate, I don’t have to bind my breasts and dress masculine and baggy in order to be neutral; deal with it. I also ain’t gotta be skinny af. Judasmyheart said, "FEMME AS FUCK IS MY ANDROGYNOUS," and I felt that.
Yet Another Binary
I take note when y’all just trade one binary for another. Instead of "man or woman" it’s "masculine or feminine" or "butch or femme." I’m stubborn and refuse to fully subscribe to those, as well; understand that "nah" or "whatever" is a valid expression. My personality isn’t inherently masculine or feminine and my traits are just… traits. While the butch/femme dichotomy doesn’t piss me off as much due to its queer roots…. tread lightly anyway.
Language
"Person" does just fine if you’ve just met me– when in doubt, stay neutral. However, my reaction to most of them is context-dependent. "Girl"/"girl friend" has specific Black culture/AAVE context, and I grew up in the South so most just roll off my back– a lot of it is terms of endearment, after all. I’m also amused at the occasional "sir– I mean– ma’am."
Connections
While pansexual is one of my oldest labels, bisexual fits me as well! It isn’t inherently transphobic and the current working definition is a bit more evolved from what people assume: attracted to more than one gender. In short: for the pedantic "Bi means Two!" crowd, I’m glib and say that I’m attracted to people with and without genders– that’s two things, isn’t it?
We should also consider adding "diamoric" to our dictionaries. Because if you’re into me, you ain’t straight. 😉
Diamoric is an intentionally flexible, loose term that describes a personal identity or a relationship (sexual, romantic, platonic etc.) that is neither “straight” nor “gay” due to the presence of one or more non-binary people.
Dysphoria and Misgendering
Body dysphoria does happen, but not nearly as often as the social dysphoria. It can either piss me off to death, or reduce me to an anxious wreck. You can say "Other" and "neutral" options are a requirement for me. Do you know what else is a requirement? Respecting my fucking pronouns!
I exist. I am here. Acknowledge this with your words and actions.
Other Thoughts
I hate it when the shit I do is gendered/coded male/masculine. I should not have to be "like a dude" to receive praise, especially if it’s a positive trait in men, but not in women.
“When I am assertive, I’m a bitch. When a man is assertive, he’s a boss. He bossed up. No negative connotation behind ‘bossed up.’ But lots of negative connotation behind being a bitch.”
Nicki Minaj
Patriarchy and toxic/fragile masculinity ruins every damn thing it touches. Masculinity needs to be deconstructed, reclaimed, and put back together. And not at the expense of femininity.
I decided that my masculinity would not be seeped in irrational entitlement; it would not be rooted in asserting power or control over women or femme folks. I wanted to create a kind of manhood that creates a safe space for women and femme identified people, so that everyone can be autonomous, carefree in their bodies, desire, and identity. This masculinity doesn’t assume any rank over anyone because they aren’t men or masculine.
Black femininity is amazing. Black femme is amazing. I’ve been trying to put to words how growing up as a black woman has and still influences me, but currently failing. It certainly isn’t something I wish to put in a box and away because I’m enby. This is also the reasoning behind my demifemme label.
I was also keenly aware that my recent ancestors were never granted the right to be seen as feminine, so avoiding femininity made me feel guilty. I felt like I was throwing away something precious.
My femme identity is a purposeful reclamation of femininity from the white supremacist classist heteronormative cis-patriarchy …it an act of resistance. Femme is a chosen, rather than assigned femininity. Femme is taking all the toxic representations of femininity that have scarred us our whole lifetimes, cutting out the rotting parts of shame, and finding a way to celebrate what we liked in the first place. …Femme is fat-positive, poor and working-class-positive, brown-positive, sex-positive, queer-positive femininity.
Crossposted from… somewhere. If you know where from, you betta ssssssh! 😉
REAL FACT: The first documentation of the life of a hedgehog was in 1991, as an educational and inspiring platform game. Its influence can still be felt today, though what’s notable about this endeavor is that it lacked information about biting.
But seriously:
REAL FACT: Hedgehogs bite, though they’re not known for such. As with anything with teeth, there’s a chance it’ll bite. Including humans. I bite. He bites. She bites. Cuz we all bite.
REAL FACT: Sometimes it’s out of curiosity, like if you smell tasty enough.You’re alluring and I’d like more. (Or you ask me really nicely because I’m a cute pet? *bats eyelashes*)
REAL FACT: Sometimes it’s to communicate and express themselves! Context matters! I bite when I’m happy. I bite when I’m mad. I bite as foreplay, and as play and being playful. I bite when I think you’re the bee’s knees and fantastic (SEE ALSO: cute aggression. And I like biting noses).
REAL FACT: And sometimes it’s a way to explore the environment. Or something. “I have no idea what this item is on the menu; I’m going to order it and bite it.”
REAL FACT: …It’s more of a nibble, really. I can’t bite really hard. Part psychological, part I’m-just-not-that-strong.
REAL FACT: There’s various aversion techniques to combat biting. They include pushing against the bite, blowing a puff of air on their nose, and even loudly reprimanding with “NO!” Consent and boundaries are a thing. If nibbles and bites aren’t your thing, tell me no! I also make it a habit to not just spring it on people.
More Real Facts
Guess which ones are pertinent!
They got their name from– guess what?– hanging around in hedges. Whodathunk!?
Hedgehogs are illegal in 7 states.
They make little weird noises.
No hedgehog species is native to America.
They curl up in a ball for warmth or protection.
Their eyesight sucks.
They’re solitary critters.
Some species hibernate.
They are nocturnal.
Called “The Gardener’s Friend” because their diet consists of all those cute (and sometimes icky) critters that wreak havoc on gardens.
They like food, by the way.
You can’t tell their gender just by looking at them.
People cannot resist a Sonic the Hedgehog reference whenever they are mentioned.
Hedgie quills are just pokey and strong. No barbs, no poison, no problem.
Have you heard of The Hedghog’s Dilemma?
Because let’s be real for a second.
The hedgehog’s dilemma, or sometimes the porcupine dilemma, is a metaphor about the challenges of human intimacy. It describes a situation in which a group of hedgehogs all seek to become close to one another in order to share heat during cold weather. They must remain apart, however, as they cannot avoid hurting one another with their sharp spines. Though they all share the intention of a close reciprocal relationship, this may not occur, for reasons they cannot avoid.
But then Freud found it and ran with it, and I hate Freud. But anyway.
This came to mind because I’m introverted (and shy) as hell. This also came to mind because depression and anxiety (and trauma, and neurosis, and toxic defense mechanisms, and–) can be a sonofabitch.
But I am willing to risk getting hurt sometimes. Perhaps it’s inevitable.
Episode 35. She’s sitting on the swing, not rocking much, and staring out into space. She had little idea what she was doing, and had been walking, wandering, for awhile. When her name is called she runs off.
Today, because I’m frankly Internet Millennial Scum, I thought of one in the style of those over-elaborate and weirdly-specific “Current Mood” meme:
Lynn Minmay running off the stage, for she no longer enjoyed singing.
And that is a nod to Episode 34: After declaring she did not want to sing, she runs off the stage and away from a disappointed audience.
It took me this long to realize I was in that same predicament.
I was (am?) Lynn Minmay.
—
Between the long work hours and exhaustion and expectations and stresses of being a brokeass Black queer that was unable to follow the same Picket Fence Blueprint as most folx (not to mention the growing pains of learning), I lost myself.
My hobbies began collecting dust. I withdrew. I never talked much, but at that point I could’ve been an good mime. My writing slowed drastically. I stopped dreaming. I stopped day dreaming.
I didn’t quite enjoy things anymore. That is, if I ever did anything. Auxiliary power seemed to go toward anything I could shut my mind off yet still enjoy it. Or escape. Temporarily. Because the knowledge of what awaited me was always there: grind and disappointment. And when I did have time, there was always one question: What the hell do I do with myself?
Depression, punctuated by anxiety and the occasional crying jag, was all I was. There were still good times and my self that could be gleaned through the cracks, but they were becoming fewer and fewer. True happiness seemed temporary; sometimes it was better not to even try.
In a non-poetic way: I lost my mojo.
I’ve lost touch.
“What am I even singing for?”
And thus I limped through for a year or three.
Fast forward to a year later, this month. Change happened. And I am just able to put it all into words now.
“What am I even singing for?” That was a question that haunted the back of my mind, but now I must answer.
Because I thought I just “changed.” Or worse, grew up! Who’s got time for hobbies? You should be happy with a 30 minute walk around the block! You’re supposed to be an adult now! And like, you’re too tired for all that fun stuff anyway. Better save up your strength for some adult thing or whatever.
Bleak, yeah?
Have I changed that much? Am I a boring ol’ so-n-so that doesn’t have enough time anymore?
I honestly don’t think so.
There have been genuine changes– no one can be static forever, I think of them as enhancements– but there is still the hint the things that are simply just buried.
I’m finding me again.
I’m finding my songs. My old ones.
And for the first time in too long I can see the finale: yes, walking toward the sunset in a ruined city and the SDF-1 totaled… but I’ve made peace with Misa and Hikaru and there’s a new song on my lips.
Throwback Thursday: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 15:00:55 on the VerboseTerse instance, yadda yadda yadda. Notable that this was for the write31days challenge for that year; I decided to write about my non-binary gender experience. This is from the third day, about my doubts before coming out.
So far, this is the hardest entry I have to write.
I am going to be 30 years old relatively soon. And only two years ago I’ve come to terms with not being a binary gender. Late to the party– better late than never– but I still feel some type of way about it.
Fuck High School
My initial, knee-jerk response to “What the hell took you so long?!” is to cite the lack of information and representation I was able to get my hands on. I keep saying that… but I have a print out of this page still and it is largely unchanged. So I can only use that excuse for so long.
5% was bigoted asshattery.
My high school was a tiny dangerously-close-to-fern thing in the middle of central Not Progressive Ha Ha. We ran out the only decent Spanish teacher because he was a city slicker. Out of the grand total of two gay young men we managed to run off one of them within a month. And of course, kids being kids with slurs in their mouth.
You do the math.
85% was just pure denial.
Some of it can be attributed to my poor grasp of gender, even with the info laid out to me. The gist was I was still working off the binary system with the faintest understanding of transgender (and that’s being kind). Furthermore, I was still under the illusion that bi/pansexuality was merely a phase and I was going to grow out of it eventually. Nevermind that to this day I associate a Sugarcult song with my First Serious Crush on A Girl. And my favorite movie wa, and still is, But I’m A Cheerleader.
FORESHADOWING THAT WAS 1/2 OR 2/3’D RIGHT
10% was fear.
Like any teen, I wanted to fit in. Just a smidge. Just enough. I also didn’t want (what I felt was at the time) the eventual heartbreak and isolation if I pursued these thoughts. So I forced contentment of something I was much more familiar with- unrequited love and alienation on my terms (and the first term was “that weird kid that walked in the rain and kicked trees”- conveniently not too alienating, just weird as fuck).
This fear was also borne of not letting down my parents. They were cool with me through my Wiccan phase and was alright with me taking my best friend to the prom, but the possibility that I was probably trans squicked my father, at least.
Moral of this story is being a teen sucked and trust no one that says otherwise.
No Longer a Teenage Dirtbag
But enough about that. Fast forward to a) finally dealing with my pansexuality and came out in college b) just ended a relationship that was another failed statistic in the mono/poly configuration, 1.5 years post college (I was the poly). So, in one of my brooding moments, I got to sitting around thinking about my gender.
Like, really think about it. In a space where I wouldn’t get shit for not shaving my sideburns and not be called somethin’ gendered every 10 minutes, even in jest. And in a place where I’m certainly more knowledgeable about Stuff. And Things. And learnin’ all the time.
I had so many doubts. Two of my entries from a particular meltdown were titled “I may not be trans enough.” And I was just a worrywart.
Was this just borne of frustration of being feminine-read/patriarchy?
Do I need hormones? / Am I still validated without needing surgery?
Was this because of my parents?
Am I trans? If I am cis, do I still get to be genderqueer?
Can I be genderqueer? Am I trendergrender or something?
Am I ready?
Am I sure?
The majority of these questions was when there were so many different variations of the definition of cis floating around. Not to mention the truscum gatekeepers got me fucked up- I assure you, I’ll talk about them later.
And I was finally, finally shedding the last of the fear and truly Stopped Giving Much Less of a Fuck.
So.
Yea.
I’m pretty fucking sure.
After a solid year of second guessing, and a life of little cascaded moments.
