I wasn’t born in the wrong body. I was born, a body. Without my body, I don’t exist. This body isn’t wrong, it’s trans.
It took me decades to figure out there was a word for what I was, and even then it was only because I was so deeply involved with the queer community on the internet.
Sometimes it’s actually super funny to watch acquaintances squirming to apologize after assuming we’re sisters, or to watch Mystery Method rejects stammer, searching for a cool-sounding answer to “we’re actually on a date with each other right now.”
and why it is dangerous to assume otherwise
At long last, I feel like I’m finally getting some clarity on things that have been confusing me my whole life, but it has been quite a journey getting here.
We imagine, it seems, that our coming out will be followed by our very own “happily ever after.”
Question: if a girl kisses another girl with
no witness, does that revelation make a sound?
Why is the blogging community dominated by an LGBTQIA presence? Simple—it’s better to be a gay blogger. By default, it connects you to thousands of fellow gays who dominate the digital space.
Let my irreverently queer, patriarchy-bashing, black-lives-adoring art draw their eye and draw their pathetic fear from the hateful shadows of this country.
Q: “What does ‘queer’ mean, exactly?”
A: “It’s a catch-all term for ‘not straight.’”