Trans Experience - Blog Posts

Touch my mind and you’ll get my body.💕💕

Who’s cuddling tonight💦🍆

Every country, every race, every ethnicity, every religion, every socioeconomic level, every period of human history — we are everywhere. We are natural. You can’t get rid of what’s natural. I think they know that, and it terrifies them.”

🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈❄️

There's a play I love called Pronoun by Evan Placey that my drama teacher assigned me back in school that I think so wonderfully captures this. I remember reading it for the first time and feeling so strongly understood and heartbroken at the same time, because it felt so real. it felt so much like I was watching a real person take those beginning steps away from miserable. it has stuck with me to this day. I will always remember how it felt reading it and how I felt so seen. I still have the copy my drama teacher gave me. it's one of my most cherished possessions (which is saying something cause I cherish everything that people I love and care about have given me lol). (and that drama teacher was a godsend too, he was fantastic)

I think that the real essence of a 'trans' story isn't actually about gender at all, so much as it's about going through a transition from one state where you're miserable and unhappy and wish for death or feel like you're already dead to another radically different state where...you're content. You're just content. You had something chronically wrong with you, like a painful screeching that just becomes the background noise of your existence and then...it's gone. You are, in some ineffable cosmic sense, where you belong.

"B-but not conforming to gender norms is hard for kids to understand 👉 👈"

Have you every worked with kids before??? Be so fr. I volunteer at summer camps and stuff and I look pretty androgynous, I have had kids ask me if I was a boy or girl. Back then (last summer) I wasnt really comfortable in my trans-identity so I said both, they did give a shit. I told them that, they would correct other kids on it. Like they thought I used they/them WITHOUT me telling them that and would correct other kids in that. the kids doing this were like 5 btw

so yeah if its that hard for you just say 5 year olds know more then you

(@numinoussssss told me I should post about this btw bc I tell him everythign)

If anyone at all is looking for a fantastic bit of queer media to watch this pride month (yes i am aware that it's nearly over but ive only just watched them myself) then please please check out:

Lingua Franca (2019) dir: Isabel Sandoval. The story of an undocumented Filipino trans woman living as a live in carer in New York

And

Carlotta (2014) dir: Samantha Lang. A film based on the life of an Australian trans icon and her friends and how they went from working class boys to household names. -A quick warning though this film is dark in places so please be cautious-

Both are centered around the trans experience, and I found both through looking at the work of actor Eamon Farren, and both are fantastic films that I wish were more well known.

ARE YOU TRANS???

DO YOU LOVE HORROR???!!

STOP SCROLLING!!

I’m doing a research paper thingy on how queerness and specifically the trans experience is reflected in or interacts with the horror genre (with a focus on body horror) (that was the most confusing way I’ve ever explained it oops sorry)

Anyway- While researching and constructing my thesis etc.. I became curious of other experiences that might be similar to mine- so if you feel like you could answer any of these questions please do!

have you ever experienced a kind of catharsis or feeling of acceptance/representation while watching movies with body horror? (or horror in general)

Do you find comfort in the transformative and/or destructive nature of body horror? How/why?

Is there a specific horror movie or trope that you feel extra connected to?

Is there a movie/character/trope in horror that you feel reflects your experience being trans?

And lastly just plug your favorite trans/queer horror movie (doesnt have to be explicitly queer and in fact subtextual and unintentional rep is encouraged)

Finding A True Name

The woods are quiet at this time of morning, when the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and the forest be thick with mists and glittering with morning dew. At the base of an old oak I pick up an acorn and fashion its cap smooth like a bowl, carving down the stem into a base before I toss the seed high between a fork in the tree's upper branches.

I miss of course, but that's hardly the point. I have no offering for the little or hidden people, hardly believe in them besides an idle fascination with little rituals like these, a bowl of morning dew I'd carved but moments before and set aside between then twisting roots of the old tree, and a mandarin in my hand that I begin to peel as I lean against it and try to listen to the morning sounds of birds.

I hear a voice beside me ask what I am doing there, and I give a little shrug. It's a public forest, and I figured a morning walk would be nice, no need for the inquisition.

"You ever thought about climbing it?" they say, and I tilt my head. "When I was younger," I tell them, "I could climb a smooth pole if I wanted to, but no… not anymore. Maybe… maybe someday, but I'm not as sure those branches will hold me as I am,"

"This tree is special," they tell me, "It is old and it is tired, but it is a home to anyone who might seek its shade, for a price of course"

"Maybe," I tell them, "It's not like I didn't leave anything though,"

"So I see," they say, "but trees get water every time it rains, every night when the cool settles on their leaves, what could make them want some in a little bowl they can't even drink from?"

"Wasn't so much for the tree," I say, a small smile building on my lips as I pull free another piece of the mandarin and stick it in my mouth, "More for any hidden folk, should they want it," I swallow the piece of fruit down, "This oak gets plenty of what it needs, water, sunlight, nutrients from the soul, the freedom to grow, I figured all more it could want was some company, so that's what I offer it in exchange for shade,"

The other gives me an odd look, something of a little gleam in their emerald green eyes as they tilt their head a little to the side, blink twice, and ask me a question.

"Can I have your name, at least?" it asks, and I tell them of course. I give it readily enough.

The green eyed stranger frowns at me, "That's not your name," they say plainly.

"It is though," I say, "The one of my birth at least,"

"But it is not your name,"

"It is a name," I say, "they've never really seemed to stick to me, especially when I came out,"

"So what is your name?" they ask again.

"I already told you didn't I?"

They pout harder, "That's just a name, an empty name," they say, "It's not yours,"

By now I've caught on, whether fact or fiction or something in between,

"I suppose it's right to say I haven't one yet, I'm still trying to find it,"

"Was it taken?" they implore me, "No, that can't make sense if you could still give it freely,"

"I think it just died," I say, with another bite of the fruit in my hand, "It faded, with that part of me that didn't really consider anything else, or maybe it never really was mine to begin with," I swallow it down again, "I've been rotating between nicknames for now, but nothing quite feels right."

"I can feel them," it says, "Nameless, what an interesting thing you are, to be nameless and whole all at once, oh the fair folk would hate you and I would too, had I not the pleasure of your earnestness."

I give a little nod, despite the small swell of unease in my chest.

"Would you like some fruit?" I say, offering the other half, yet untouched but picked clean of skin and grit. It isn't often I can peel a mandarin without piercing it's flesh and spilling it's juices.

The Faerie smiles at me, a mouth full of needle like teeth and eyes that glimmer with gold flecked inside it's too bright eyes.

"I would like that," it says to me, and takes it readily. Popping some of the pulps in its mouth, one after another, and licking the juice from its lips as it chews. Turning over what remains in its hands and smiling a little to itself as it does so.

"What are you here for?" I ask it sweetly, pulling free a knife and idly making another bowl from a nearby acorn.

"I had wanted to steal you away," it says, and I stop a little at the declaration, "It's always fun to have better company in Faerie, with your name I might have been still able to leave something behind that would have others none the wiser,"

"And now?"

"I couldn't charge you if I wanted to," it giggles a little under its breath, "I haven't your name nor your thanks, instead I have two gifts freely given, and nothing but the utmost pleasantries from you on my and our friend's account, so I'll tell you what," they say, "I owe you a boon, and so meet with me whenever you are able, and I shall help you find your name, and it shall be all your own,"

"And yours?" I ask coyly, "May I have yours?"

They flick a finger by my ear and I laugh.

"Cheeky," they say, "but you may call me a friend,"