The idea of meeting someone new and falling for them seems so foreign to me. I find myself wanting comfort and familiarity. The safety of someone I know and trust. That takes time to build and I often feel that the dating world, especially for trans women, is a hard place to build anything. It doesn’t help that the guy I like has a thirty foot wall around himself. What does that say about me? 🙄
Dingy, kind of leaky
My uncle was there.
Sea creatures had escaped. They were out of water. A large swordfish barracuda eel hybrid trying to breathe. ‘They’ll kill you’
Slipping through a big door
Outside at one point having a smoke I believe, coming in off the deck the door almost closed.
Sitting on a bed with my mom and someone else (an old friend maybe), and someone else in the periphery. We were singing songs with each other and as soon as I joined in each time they’d change the song. Then finally I suggested we slow down and sing one song all the way through. And my mom suddenly had an anesthetic breather to my face, trying to put me out. I resisted and she grabbed me by the neck lifting me up against the wall. She wasn’t herself. Mama, I choked, mama, her eyes black with death and evil. Mama, I said trying to rouse her from whatever was possessing her. Mama, I said again close to dying. I woke up then, hearing my breath, gasping. That was that.
Funny how three years later, I still think about GCS (gender confirmation surgery). There’s this doctor in New York City, Dr. Jess Ting, who creates girls’ vaginas using pieces of the inner lining of their stomach so they can experience lubrication during arousal. This surgery wasn’t available four years ago when I lived in New York City. It wasn’t available to me. I gave up chasing my dream of GCS in Thailand and chose to go to grad school to study therapy. Then I left grad school to pursue my art. Now two years later, what do I have to show for it? A great deal I suppose. I’ve started a record label, music collective, and event series. I’ve honed my skills as a sound engineer (and continue to). I’ve played a number of live shows and continue to receive bookings. I feel things are moving in the right direction. But a familiar void has resurfaced in me all these years later–a yearning for a deeper physical experience of my womanhood, a closer proximity to the physical form I see in my mind’s eye.
I remember when I left New York I said I wouldn’t return unless I had a thriving creative career. Now it seems it’s headed in that direction. UN/TUCK is bound to take off. I’m quite sure. And when it does, I’m going to leave Kansas City. And begin my life once more in a place where I can seek trans inclusionary healthcare–where I do not have to spend tens of thousands of dollars on surgeries–where the very notion of calling trans related surgeries ‘cosmetic’ is seen as violent and oppressive–where the final alleviation of my dysphoria is not seen as a burden.
I am ready for whatever changes come. And for the ones I intentionally seek out. I am ready for the true flowering of my life, the true birth, to commence.
It’s taken me almost four years but I finally feel a strong sense of who I am at this point in my life. I’ve explored gender and queerness and fluidity and androgyny. And after all this time I’ve come back to find that femininity makes me the happiest–feminine is where my comfort zone lies, where I feel beautiful and sensual and in touch with my body and authentic consciousness. As part of this rediscovery I’m committing to pushing my transition along, seeking out some facial feminization surgery, an orchiectomy, and maybe that’s it, maybe not. I just know that if I don’t listen to the girl inside me, I’ll never be truly happy. I’m thankful to have come back to this part of myself.
Depression doesn’t like being talked about.
Today Resistance seemed to win the battle. No art was made. Though much time was spent on your phone. I’m sorry that I feel ugly today, that I feel worthless and doomed to a life of lack and poverty. Thinking about all the people who think I should be living differently. Or maybe it’s just me. I wish I could remember what Divinity felt like. Instead I feel empty-a bare reflection of the things I’ll never have: fame, money, love, children. Today I’ve lost the battle of self love, even though I did laundry for the first time in weeks. Even though I made lunch for myself and took a shower and set up a hair appointment. I was not given any awards. No one did a write up on me for Vice Magazine. I worry that UN/TUCK will only lead to disappointment. I did not have enough will power to pull you from the misery that haunts us at all times. The misery that haunts us when no one is looking. What does it mean to love you? To nurture you? To celebrate you and take care of you? I have been on this Earth for 27.5 years and yet I still don’t know how to be a human. I still don’t know how to accept that each day is a clean slate that I only I can fill up. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m too in my head today. Maybe Alex’s voice that still lingers in my head is actually my own voice–the small self who knows only lack and failure and limitation–the small self that tells me while she’ll never come back. Here I am yearning for a love I do not know how to give myself. Here I am on my bedroom floor, crying and wishing for so much more.