Zippertits
My therapist: Do you not experience any empowerment in your identity? None at all?
Me: No. I wish I weren't this way.
How it feels to be a little girl and dragged off to the side of the class so Mrs can tell me to wear training bras--you are distracting the boys. How it feels to be desired, years later, same entitlement to my body, my masculinity: you want me in your bathroom so you can cozy up to me. I lay in my bed and ask for the millionth time, "But what if T ruins me," as if masculinity is somehow inherently undesirable. Queerness is ugly, messy, lovable, inalienable, and isolating. Side effects include loss of breast matter because, of course, the shedding of femininity is always a loss. How, no matter how much I love the flow of draped fabrics, it pains me to be seen as a lesser man for it. Masculinity intimidates people, you must make yourself smaller or other queer people might not want to interact with you. Of course, I'll be acceptable, docile. Am I safe enough to experiment with if I'm more feminine? Am I good enough if I put on this dress?
[ Interlude: My body is my mother's. When I chip away at my femininity, I take part of her from me. It feels like ripping flesh from her bones. ]
Does my chest make you want to misgender me? Is it my fashion, my self-expression, the only thing I hold onto through this mess? Is my identity worthy of being respected, or are my choices being feared or belittled? Have my hormones made me an angry man yet? Stone butch blues, my hair falling pooling around me with each metal incision, am I masculine enough yet? Of course, my struggles aren't unique, nor are they worse than yours. I apologize, am I overstepping? I'll do more work, check my privilege, and read more theory. Being a man comes with responsibilities, so shut up and take it. How small would you like me to be before I am palpable? Lou, did Jo's sisters ever bother to tell him that he's handsome this way? Lou, Jo will never see someone like him on the TV screen. Lou, I'm still waiting for the day that Jo is celebrated the way he is.
[ Interlude: The receptionist informs him he cannot receive abortion care covered by his insurance as he has M as a gender marker. He leaves. ]
You want my body in everything. In you. On top of you. Under you. You want my body away from you. This is a Wxmen and Non-binary Only Space! Every day I ingest poison in my body that makes me less acceptable to you. I am learning, unlearning, sitting by flowers and watching them grow. Learning what affirms me doesn't need to be internalized as something negative. How a bee flies close to remind me that I, too, am a flower. I'll let the water flow off my body and retrace the outline. I won't wait until my suffering is profound enough to bleed.