A manic episode
Posted: June 25, 2015 Filed under: mental health, Writing | Tags: anxiety, bipolar, bipolar disorder, depression, emotions, hospitalization, mania, medical treatment, mental health, therapy 7 CommentsI could easily write a 5,000 word essay on this topic; maybe one day I will. This is an abbreviated version:
Over night, my brain became a frenzied jumble of free associations. Every system I could imagine (friendships, technology, routines) opened up, and I was in the center of all of it, connecting all the dots.
I thought that Leelah Alcorn, the trans-teen from Ohio who committed suicide, was an elaborately staged message created by a group of people on Tumblr. Meaning, I thought she was not a real person – more of a call to action, one more thing to add to “The Transgender Tipping Point,” and finally really make some changes happen.
But I thought a lot of things right around this time period, for a couple of days. I believed I’d been chosen for amazing things, I was choosing my own adventure, and the further I could get before running into a dead-end setback, the more rewards I would gain. If I made it to my therapist’s office, she was going to give me this new phone I’ve had my eye on. If I made it through the entire day, I’d be going to a party thrown by everyone I know. I briefly had the thought, “My partner wouldn’t like that; that’s too much.” So my logic led me to believe I shouldn’t make it through the day at this rate. I should definitely get the new phone, but I should see what my therapist thought after that. Maybe.
Some things were already in motion, and there was no stopping me! My social media outlets were blowing up! My blog was going to get huge at this rate, and I was going to get a book deal out of it. Should I quit my job? I kinda like working there, as a janitor, so I’ll keep my job. I better write a note so that everyone will know I wanna go back to work. I pulled out one of those Mr. Sketch scented markers – it was Blue Raspberry – and scrawled out really big and doodle-y on a piece of artist’s paper, “I will want to go back to work.” It was barely legible. When I showed my therapist a few hours later, in fact, she couldn’t read it, so I just had to tell her I want to go back to work. I wouldn’t want to be someone who sits around all day, writing their book. I would get bored!
I called my therapist at 2AM and asked her, “Can you just come over?” I called her again at 7AM, just to see if she’d drop by instead of me meeting her at her office at 9. I was making some really cool displays in the house, and I wanted her to come check them out. I was playing a record – The Days of Wine and Roses by The Dream Syndicate, and everything was clicking into place. (Actually, the record is still on my turntable, untouched 4 months later – I’m playing it right now.) The lyrics were making perfect sense and informing me of things I should write down. “You say it’s a waste / not to learn from mistakes.” “Textbook case.” “It’s Halloween.” “She remembers what she said.” These messages were of utmost importance. This record was THE record to end all records.
By 8AM I was so bored and fidgety from doing stuff all night long, that I decided to take off for my therapy appointment early. I had everything I needed packed – My toothbrush and toothpaste, notes from work, and 6 bottles of hoarded Androgel (my prescription allows me to get more than I need, so I just collect them). I had no clue what would be happening next or how long I’d be gone after therapy (I might be put up in a hotel!), but I could figure out clothes and other stuff later.
Driving was a bit tricky. I was relying on intuitive cues, more than the rules of the road. Fortunately, my gut was telling me to slow way down and put my hazard lights on, rather than try to drive at the speed my mind was racing. I still got there early; when I arrived, I slammed my backpack into the corner of the waiting room, above the door. To alert the security cameras that I knew all about it. A man briskly walked past me and out the door. He was planted there to exit when I arrived. I proceeded to be loud and messy. I dumped out a bin of toys. I knocked over a chair. I said, “I’m borrrred!” I talked loudly about a Mazda advertisement on the back cover of a magazine. I finally understood how advertising worked – they weren’t fooling me! In fact, this whole magazine was rigged. I should just take it with me – I’ll need it later. I stuffed it into my backpack. One other therapist was there (this was a Saturday) and she tried to gently corral me until my therapist got there. She picked up the toys. She said she’d call my therapist for me. She talked to me in a steady and soothing voice. She wasn’t patronizing me.
Finally, my therapist arrived. We engaged in a delicate dance around each other. I knew on some level that I was going to the hospital. But I also knew that wasn’t necessary, and she was totally going to come over and check out my displays and then I’d be reunited with my partner to proceed with the most fun day ever! In reality, my partner was on her way to North Carolina with family (I’d successfully convinced her everything was fine / I believed she was just out with friends and I’d see her in a couple hours.) My therapist started calling hospitals for availability, and I conveniently went to the bathroom to shield myself from that stuff. I came back and dumped out all the contents of my backpack. This would be more fun. She immediately sorted things into piles to make sense of it. She called my partner and left a message. She asked me what my best friend’s phone number was and I told her. I left the room again while she talked on the phone. Before I knew it, my best friend was there! Magic! Everything was going my way.
I talked to my friend about the displays and we played Rubix cube. Suddenly we were all leaving. They led the way, and I went into the bathroom again. I wasn’t so sure anymore. I yelled out, “I set some things in motion, and I don’t know if I want it to go this far.” We were still just going to my house, right? My therapist replied, with forced enthusiasm, “Come on!”
I got in the car with her; my best friend went separately. I curled up into a ball and shielded my eyes from the world. I started to feel sad; I verbalized what I thought about Leelah Alcorn. I said, “I don’t know much about it. I know her name, where she’s from, and that’s about it.” She had been on the news. That was big. What I was trying to convey was that no one knew much about it. If everyone just saw her picture, her name, and her suicide note, maybe she wasn’t real. And maybe this kind of stuff happens all the time. What is real in the media? Scattered thoughts breaking down. My therapist said, “I don’t actually know where you live.” I replied, desperately, “Yeah, but you can find out.” She had a smart phone. People with smart phones seamlessly glean information all the time.
We weren’t going to my house. When we stopped and I uncurled myself, we were at the hospital. But it still wasn’t too late. If I just told her this is where it ends, and we go to my house from here, everything could still be OK. I looked her straight in the eye; I put my face two inches from her face. I said, “This is where it ends.” This had worked with my partner a few hours earlier. I looked her straight in the eye and said, “Everything’s going to be OK.” I gave her the green light to go on her trip. This time was different. My therapist probably interpreted that as, “The journey ends here, at the hospital.” I meant here in the car. Still though, I complied and followed her. After all, my best friend showed up here too, so it probably was all OK.
Five hours later, I was on the psych ward. I’d been in the emergency department. My mom had shown up. I had talked to my partner on the phone – it finally sunk in she was 6 hours away, and she and her family were turning straight around. My best friend had been with me. My therapist had left at some point. I’d peed in a cup. I’d gotten blood drawn. I’d signed some papers by drawing big loops over the entire page, not knowing what I was signing, exactly. But now, it was just me, and suddenly my choose your own adventure had come to a dead halt. There was no more choosing. I started yelling, panicking. “I NEED MY VITAMIN D PILL AND ELDERBERRY SUPPLEMENT!” I needed to maintain my body’s delicate homeostatic state. I was given a pill and took it; it was Haldol. It knocked me out for 18 hours. Before I faded out, the nurse was talking to me really sternly. She was really butch. “Do not start shouting on my unit – we don’t do that.” “I know I know it’s not like me at all…” “Also, you smell really strongly bad so I’m going to shut your door.” Then she started yelling. “He gets whatever he wants!” And I was out.
Trans on the Internet Part 2
Posted: May 27, 2015 Filed under: Writing | Tags: anthology, coming out, gender, gender identity, genderqueer, internet, lgbtq, non-binary, queer, technology, trans, transgender, writing 19 CommentsTrans on the Internet Part 1
Posted: May 26, 2015 Filed under: Writing | Tags: gender, gender identity, genderqueer, identity, internet, lgbtq, non-binary, queer, technology, trans, transgender, writing 7 CommentsLast July, I submitted a proposal for an essay to a new and exciting anthology all about the ways transgender identities inform the internet and vice versa. My proposal was accepted, and I submitted my piece for editing in December. I was stoked! Unfortunately though, I just heard word that the editors are not moving forward with the project (due to workloads and paid work vs. passion filled but unpaid work). So I figured I’ll publish it on my blog. Not nearly as exciting, but still something! (I’m breaking it into two parts because it’s pretty long).
I am right on the cusp of Generation X (slackers) and Generation Y (millennials). I’m on the borderlands of a trans identity. I’m on the verge of grasping/rejecting technological innovations. I’m comfortable right where I am, hanging out at the edge of all these precipices. Due to my age , gender identity, and complex feelings about technology, I find myself neither here nor there in terms of what feels best. I continue to mix and match as I go, remaining critical along the way.
I was born in 1981, which means I most definitely did not grow up with cell phones or internet access. Even though they were available in the 80s, we didn’t have cable television, a microwave oven, or a portable telephone either (picture a tan rotary telephone mounted to the wall, with a long, coiled cord). I have always been wary of new technologies as they slowly embed themselves into our collective landscape and my individual lifestyle. The transitions never feel seamless. They always impact me greatly, imprinting upon my memories…
The first time I used a microwave: I was a kid. I was at the grocery store with my dad, and there was a station where you could microwave your own bag of popcorn. Like many people do all of the time, even after 20+ years of practice, we burnt the popcorn, popped open the microwave door, and let the stench waft out, affecting shoppers within a 100ft radius. I felt mortified and ashamed. My dad seemed unfazed, but we didn’t try again.
The first time I used a cell phone: It was 2003, and I was a senior in college. My parents had given me a cell phone during our visit with no further discussion really, other than it was covered under their family plan. I buried it somewhere within my apartment and continued to use my landline (however infrequent that was). My mom later commented to me, “We can never get ahold of you! Why don’t you answer your cell phone?” Honestly, I can’t say. It just felt anxiety inducing. At some point, I must have gotten the hang of it – of being forever accessible – because I now am the proud owner of a Samsung flip-phone and I carry it everywhere. I see the benefits of this, but I’m only partially on board. I rarely text, I keep my phone on vibrate, oftentimes I let a call just go to voice mail, and I call back when I am ready.
The first time I used the Internet: We had a super slow dial-up server called Prodigy. It was 1998. Again, I can’t recall any discussion amongst my family about what the Internet is and what can we do with it – suddenly it just was. I recall going on a message board to talk about music. I talked about REM with a stranger for a while before he abruptly asked me what size bra I wear. I felt a mixture of complex emotions before simply replying, “an A cup, I think. I don’t really know.” He replied, “Oh, that’s alright sweetheart, that’s enough for me to work with.” How did he know my gender? How did this space for nerds and fans devolve so quickly into a space for pervs to jack-off? I didn’t engage; just signed off. I don’t remember going back on the internet much after that until I got to college; my usage was very limited, and remains, in many ways, fairly limited, even today.
The ways I use the internet has definitely progressed and shifted, but I am far from the seamless IRL/virtual world many people appear to inhabit. I do not have a smart phone nor do I plan on ever getting a smart phone. I have “online time” and “offline time,” and I need those two to be separate. You’ll never see me walking down the street, seemingly talking to myself or staring at a screen.
My trans identity has shifted along with the ways I view the Internet, over time. It has blossomed and bloomed, halted and shriveled, sputtered and shuddered and begun to bloom again. In terms of deep soul searching, the Internet has never been my go-to place to glean information. The library was that place. I spent countless hours (hours enough to rival Internet time) in the “HQ” stacks of my college library. Specifically HQ 71-79: “sexual deviations, bisexuality, homosexuality, lesbianism, transvestism, transsexualism, sadism, masochism, fetishism.” For all that time spent searching, I didn’t do a whole lot of actual reading – many of these books were so dense and research-centric. I would often just go there to try to clear my head. Just sit. One particular book does stand out above the rest though: Loren Cameron’s Body Alchemy. Filled with stunning photographs and personal stories, I could find glimpses of myself amongst these pages.
Stay tuned for Part 2, where I flesh out these ideas, fill in some gaps, and really get into my trans-identity a lot more.
Hey Halloween! (how costumes fit into our lives)
Posted: October 29, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: anxiety, college, gender identity, genderqueer, Halloween, lgbtqia, non-binary, queer, relationships, trans, transgender, women's studies, writing 5 CommentsHappy almost Halloween! I thought I’d celebrate by digging deep into my writing archives to see if I could find something festive. It may not be all that festive, but it does seem apt – I found something I wrote 12 years ago, on Halloween day, that touches on gender identity, costumes, and anxiety.
A little back story for what is to follow: I was a Junior in college, and I was taking an awesome class called Imagining Herself, a cross-class between Women’s Studies and English Literature. The book list was from some Gender Studies Dream Team (for 2002, at least):
Leslie Feinberg – Stone Butch Blues
Riki Anne Wilchins – Read My Lips
Zora Neale Hurston – Dust Tracks on a Road
Kate Bornstein – Gender Outlaw
Audre Lorde – Zami: A New Spelling of My Name
And others that I can’t remember anymore. Unfortunately, I didn’t read these books (well, I’d already read Stone Butch Blues on my own). I couldn’t. I was having some major depressive issues, which really put a damper on what I was capable of doing. I hadn’t told any professors I needed help yet, but I would be doing so in the very near future. The professor’s name was Katrina (not her real name). I sort of had a girlfriend at the time, whom I’ll refer to as “girlfriend?” Question mark, because I was never clear on whether we were actually together. Girlfriend? had been in this class the semester before me, so the professor had a clear memory of her.
Here’s what I wrote on Halloween, 12 years ago:
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More than ever, I became terribly anxious in Imagining Herself today. I think because we were discussing Stone Butch Blues, and I felt like I was supposed to be adding to the discussion, yet I couldn’t say anything. I’m one of five people in class who are potentially VERY focused on issues raised in that book. These other classmates all contributed a lot. I contributed nothing. I just couldn’t. Katrina even brought attention to me because of the zines I’ve been handing in for my project. She wanted me to talk about some of the stuff.
“[Janitorqueer’s] been doing these amazing zines,” she told the class. I felt like I was in elementary school again, simultaneously hoping for and fearing any kind of attention. “Can you share with us your thoughts about what you’ve been writing about, after reading through Stone Butch Blues again?” I hadn’t read through Stone Butch Blues again. I hadn’t yet read ANY of the books for class. I feel guilty and like a fraud. I stared straight ahead. Said, ” … um … ” in almost a whisper. My mind was totally blank. Why does this happen? She acknowledged my discomfort by asking me if we should just move on. I said, “yeah.”
I thought I might cry. How awful would that have been. I tuned out completely to avoid that scene, and that worked really well. I came back to reality within a few minutes. But for the rest of class, all I wanted to do was grab all of my stuff and run out of the room … go and hide. I have this urge often in class, but it’s never been THIS intense. Sometimes I want to slip through the edge of the floor, but not today. I just wanted to explode out, to escape.
Girlfriend? was brought up during the discussion! We were talking about clothing and performance, and Katrina asked me, “You know [your girlfriend?], right?” I nodded. Because I referred to girlfriend? a few times in my zines, she must have made the connection. Then she addressed the class. “Girlfriend? uses clothes as a performance all the time. She is always playing … she’ll wear goth, hello kitty, Ragedy Ann (girlfriend? prefers to call this one “Bag Lady”) … and when she came into class the day people were instructed to wear particularly masculine or feminine clothing, something different than normal, she said that this isn’t any different for her than any other day because she’s always playing. She feels comfortable dressing extremely masculine and/or feminine.”
A classmate asked, “Did she have pink hair for a while last year?” and I nodded, yes. “Oh, ok, I had a class with her. She is really interesting.” Katrina: “Yeah, she’s very bright.” Classmate: “Political Science major?” I nodded again.
I don’t think I’ve ever thought of girlfriend?’s incredible attention to clothing as “playing.” I thought of it as this valley girl thing she does. This thing which is sometimes tedious and sometimes fun and goofy. (She is really excited about creating me as a goth girl for Halloween.) To look at it as a carefully planned out form of play makes me respect it much more. I feel proud that I “know” her. I feel especially tender toward her, or something, ah, I don’t know! Anyway …”
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I remember that Halloween. She dressed me up in her clothing and did my hair and make-up. I liked it. She was dressed as a school-girl gone wrong, or something to that effect. It was a really warm night, and we kind of just walked around a lot, stopping in at this party and that party, maybe acquaintances of hers. (I had no idea. As per usual, I was out of it, dissociating.)
It makes me think about all the things we can be expressing with our clothing choices, gender-wise and otherwise. And although Halloween costumes are extremes, all sorts of outfits can be seen as “costumes.” Getting dressed up in formal wear? Costume. Even business casual? Still, costume. Work out clothes? Total costume. If it’s not a t-shirt, hoodie, button-up shirt (mostly flannel), jeans, corduroys (or gym shorts, sweat pants for lounging around), hiking boots, or skater shoes, to me, it feels like a costume. Which isn’t a bad thing at all! Costumes have their times and places – I love costumes! But I will not compromise and wear clothing that does not allow me to feel like myself, when that’s all I wanna be.
Another blog writer covers some similar concepts, here – Becoming Hope: Masks
Oh, and completely coincidentally, this year I’m going as a goth boy for Halloween.
What’s your take on costumes?
Getting to know each other #2
Posted: September 9, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: award, beverages, blogging, blogs, chain mail, vegetarian, writing 5 CommentsA couple of chain-style blogging awards are currently circulating, and I’m gonna go ahead and take part! Thank you to Something Queer To Read, Tangled Web, and Because I’m Fabulous for including me! These community driven awards are super important because they help us connect to more blogs we might not yet know about, and they allow blog writers to step outside of their usual modes and share a little bit more about themselves.
So, adapted “rules” for the Lovely / Very Inspiring Blog award:
– Link to and thank the blog writer(s) who included you.
– Write a few facts about yourself. Maybe 4, maybe 7, maybe 10…
– Move things forward by including a few blog writers you really enjoy. Anywhere from 5 to 15.
– Make sure you let these blog writers know!
This time around, I’m going to point to (in no real order):
A Feminist Challenging Transphobia
butchcountry67
The Brighter Side of the Moon
Valprehension
Today I Am A Man
Captain Glitter Toes
Create Parity
Genderweird
Transcending Chaya
And finally, a couple of things you might not have known about me:
– I live 5 miles away from my parents. I live 5,000 miles away from my brother.
– I love beverages of all different kinds: especially coffee, tea, beer, fancy sodas, kombucha. I like trying new types! (I really should remember to drink more water.)
– When I was 17, I spent 3 weeks in a psychiatric hospital. I know I’ve mentioned it before, and although I don’t highlight it often in my writing, this episode greatly shaped where I’m coming from and how I write about my experiences.
– I’ve been a vegetarian for about 12 years. There was a brief foray into eating fish somewhere at the midway point. That didn’t last long. It felt weird. From time to time, I think about re-introducing fish into my diet, but I just can’t seem to do it.
Until next time (Getting to know each other #3)…
Why I’ve been writing here
Posted: July 24, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: anniversary, genderqueer, goals, lgbtq, non-binary, privacy, publishing, queer, therapist, therapy, trans, transgender, writing 20 CommentsToday is the day I’ve been writing on this blog for one year. And… I really don’t see an end in sight – it doesn’t feel like I’ll be running out of steam any time soon. I’m gonna hope that this is true!
There are a bunch of reasons I started and a bunch of reasons I keep going. Some of them include:
- I’m an exhibitionist, in a sense.
- I really really really enjoy writing. And ideas keep popping in my head.
- The more I put into this, the more I get out of it. That has not been the case for a lot of endeavors I’ve undertaken.
- I’ve really been enjoying reading blogs by like-minded (and different-minded) individuals on a variety of topics, but mostly blogs about being queer and/or trans* in some way or form. The blogs I read help keep me going.
- It has helped me hone my writing / find a voice. I’ve had pieces accepted for 2 anthologies this year (the process of editing and publishing is currently ongoing), and I’m working on a proposal for a 3rd piece.
- I want to continue contributing to a body of information that is pretty obscure and hard to find, at least at this time.
Before starting this blog, I was writing epic emails to my therapist, generally on a weekly basis. For over a year and a half. I’m talking really really long emails. Although she always read them – and we often talked about them – she would never reply to me. She would also sometimes downplay how important they felt to me, referring to them as “notes,” when I would have chosen the phrase, “an outpouring of my soul,” haha.
I rarely ever write to her anymore (sometimes I cut and paste from my blog in an email to her, or ask her to look at a specific post). I think I was relying on her to fulfill this really specific need (collecting and organizing thoughts through writing, knowing someone’s reading those thoughts), and I’ve shifted it all into this incredible, creative outlet. She’s probably relieved about it – I know I kinda am, haha.
Before this, I’d never had a blog in such a public way. I’d had private online “diaries” and mostly “friends only” online journals when I was younger, just about life in general. But I’d never put this much about myself out into the internet in any shape, previously (my Facebook info and involvement is super sparse, for example). Sometimes I’ve second-guessed myself. Sometimes I’ve worried if so-and-so will find this, etc. But overall, those fears are quickly drowned out by all the positives. And ultimately, the type of anonymity / level of being out there publicly feels like it’s right where I wanna be.
To many more years!
Getting to know each other
Posted: May 20, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: award, blogging, blogs, bunnies, chain mail, kombucha, music, rabbits, radio dj 1 CommentThank you to tsoi hawk and rimonim for including me in the Liebster Awards. This award uses a chain-mail technique in order to connect more writers together and create an opportunity to get to know each other a little better. Many of us write continuously, sometimes constantly about one or two topics, and we never really get a sense of who the author is!
I was stalling for a while about this post, because while I love the spirit of this award, I do not love the pressure and obligation to follow the rules and not break the chain! I am a notorious chain breaker. You wanted to send me a recipe/list of books/favorite quote/etc. and a list of 6 more people to forward my own recipe/books/quotes/etc. on to? Bad choice; those people never saw anything about it! But I figured, why not try this one, even if I don’t follow everything we’re supposed to do.
So, here’s a modified version, I guess.
Some blogs I’ve really been enjoying lately:
And a favorite blog, that, sadly, appears to now be an archive:
rainbowgenderpunk
If I linked to your blog, and you wanna follow all the rules, click here for more info about the Liebster Award. If you don’t wanna do it at all, that’s OK too.
Some random facts about me:
– I know all of Tom Petty’s greatest hits by heart. This is not indicative of my musical tastes. I just had the cassette tape growing up. (I do still love it.)
– What’s on my iPod right now: albums by Bauhaus, Daft Punk, DJ Shadow, Maps, RJD2, Skinny Puppy, Sleigh Bells, The Roots, Wolf Parade. This is slightly more indicative of my musical tastes. I listen to my iPod every single work-day, for probably 4-6 hours.
– I’m going to hear back in a couple of weeks whether my proposal for a radio show will be accepted. I’ll most likely be a radio DJ starting this fall!
– One of my favorite pastimes is brewing kombucha.
It is a delicious, healthy alternative to soda. It is awesome! You can buy it in stores, but it is $$$. You can make it at home for super super cheap. It’s basically just black tea (or any tea, but black is best) and processed, white sugar. Plus the weird flesh-colored disk called a Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast (SCOBY). You have to acquire one of those.
– We have a pet dwarf rabbit named Grey Bunny. She is 12 years old!
That’s about all I got for right now.
Working on Letters for My Aunts
Posted: March 3, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: coming out, family, gender identity, genderqueer, lgbt, lgbtq, non-binary, parents, same-sex marriage, trans, writing 5 CommentsLately, I’ve been focused on coming out to more of the people who are in my life, and also reaching out to some family members who have not really been in my life – seeing what’s going on for them, hope that they might respond to what’s going on for me. Mainly, my dad has 4 sisters who all have their own nuclear families, yet I really don’t know much about them and vice versa. So I’m working on composing emails to send to them, and from there, they can forward and/or talk about it with their family members.
Traditionally, I’d see them about once a year, at the holidays (and we’d never really talk about our lives). But this year, I didn’t even see them then. I really can’t say why, except that it feels like there’s a chasm that keeps getting wider and deeper, in the place where my dad might have built a bridge, a long time ago. It seems generally natural that one’s parent would be the link between the child and that parents’ extended family. That is strongly the case with my mom and her side of the family, at least. I never told any of them that I am gay (that’s not really all that accurate), that now I have a partner, that now I’m planning to get married, that now I am married, etc. My mom did all that for me, and then I (and we, my partner and me) just show up to extended family gatherings and feel accepted and included, even if none of this information is directly talked about. I most recently asked my mom to add “please use male pronouns, he doesn’t identify strongly with either gender, and he’ll be glad to answer questions if you’d like to ask,” to that list of stuff she conveys on my behalf to her side of the family. It has been an effective system thusfar, although this newest bit of info might throw some people for a loop. I’ll just have to wait and see…
My dad, however, does things very differently. I’m pretty sure he believes that things that did not happen to him firsthand are not for him to share. But there are definitely exceptions to this, so maybe another part of it is, if he feels awkward about it, it’s not for him to share. And maybe he feels awkward about most things. As far as I’m aware, no one on his side of the family knows that I am gay (although they could easily guess, and again, not accurate!), that I have a partner, that we planned to get married, and that we got married. My partner has never met any of them. Like I said, I’ve been seeing them once a year, but this year my parents went without me, and I think it has quite a bit to do with the fact there is too much unsaid information that’s recently happened and is piling up.
So, I’m going to break this bizarre pattern by telling my aunts and their families everything I’d like them to know about me and ask them about their families, in a grouping of 4 (almost) identical emails, one for each of them. Plus a written card for my grandpa because he doesn’t have an email address. It is psychically difficult. I’ve had this plan vaguely for about 3 months, and more seriously for about one month. And I’ve been putting it off. But this week feels like the week. I may be going to visit my grandpa next Sunday (because I talked to my mom about all of this, and she talked to my dad, and he then told me of when he was next going to visit, to which I replied, “Maybe I’d like to go”), so I wanna get this info out there!
In other news, I’m currently in the process of editing a piece for an anthology called Letters for My Siblings. It’s not a definite at this time, but it’s looking very promising that my piece will be included!!! Which is a huge deal for me. I’ve always seen myself as a writer, and I’m starting to feel like I could make something of that! I’m already on to the next thing even; I’m working on a submission for a magazine called “Iris: New LGBTQ+ Writing for Young Adults.” Check it out! Here’s their call for submissions for the next issue.
Blog writing shows promise for… future blog writing
Posted: February 13, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: blog writing, blogs, class, college, depression, gender identity, genderqueer, non-binary, nostalgia, professor, reminiscing, self-injury, writing Leave a commentJust for fun, I decided to go back to an old online diary and see what I had written (if anything) ten years ago today. And there was one dated 2/13/04! At this time, I was a senior in college, I had no plans, and I was trying to rebuild my sense of self after a destructively devastating depressive episode.
I had been in a screenwriting class the previous semester, and had had some difficulty with the class and the professor. We’d had a few miscommunications. For example, I disclosed to him some of my struggles (such as issues with self-injury) in an attempt to get him to understand why I needed to take an incomplete, going to class and doing the work later. As a result, he decided to show the movie Secretary for the class, letting me know somehow (I don’t remember how) that this was his way of connecting with me. But actually, I felt mortified by this.
So what I wrote exactly ten years ago was this:
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[The professor} emailed me today, saying he had been reading my “blog,” [which he must have found by Googling his name] and in my head, I was like FUCK, WHAT SORT OF SHIT DID I SAY ABOUT HIM? Oh man. But it turns out I didn’t really say any shit about him, just wrote about a conversation the class had in which I was excluded from the female POV. And I was like, awesome! but in the journal, it sort of sounded like I felt sligted, because I call myself “other.” He didn’t realize I love “other,” so he wrote to me in the email that it is easy to recall times when one has been slighted, but one must also remember times when one’s unique humanity is recognized. (ex. showing Secretary in class.) So I just had to write back that I didn’t feel slighted – I was pleased, rather, to be excluded from being able to speak from a female’s POV. Yeah, I don’t know if this makes much sense, but, he wrote back saying thanks for the clarification, and he also said to keep writing. “Your blog writing shows promise.”
Promise for what?
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Even though I was still a long way off from using the words non-binary, genderqueer, or trans* to describe myself (apparently preferring “other” haha), it’s awesome to see I was thinking about it and writing about it.
With this guy, it’ll be just my luck that he’ll find this post somehow and strike up a long-lost conversation with me, haha. College was weird.
Working on “Letters for My Siblings”
Posted: January 16, 2014 Filed under: Writing | Tags: androgyny, anthology, gender identity, genderqueer, non-binary, trans, writing 6 CommentsI usually try to post about once a week. But this week, I got nothin’… because I’m working on finishing up a submission for a new anthology! (So I’m posting anyway, about that!) I’ve been working on a piece of writing. You could too – there’s still time! I’ll be updating about how it turns out, in a few weeks.
Here are the details:
Letters for My Siblings: Call for Submissions
Deadline: February 1, 2014
Word Limit: 2500
Publisher: Transgress Press
Contact: lettersformysiblings@gmail.com
The Lambda Literary Finalist Letters for My Brothers asked transsexual men to pass on to their pre-transition selves any important advice that they had as post-transition men. In Letters for My Siblings, we wish to capture short pieces of a similar spirit from people who are genderqueer, gender non-conforming, bigender, agender, or who simply don’t fit nicely into the boxes of “man” and “woman”.
Your submission should be between 500 and 2500 words and address one or more of the prompts below.
Not all prompts will apply to all writers. Your submission should be about your own lived experience — please avoid delving too far into the theoretical, or making broad generalizations about any group (even one that you belong to).
Send all submissions to lettersformysiblings@gmail.com by February 1, 2014. Authors will be notified of acceptance within six weeks of the submission deadline.
• What does it mean to transition as a non-binary identified person? How have you transitioned medically, legally, socially, or otherwise, and why? Has your transition been an important part of your identity and/or experience? How and why?
• Where do you fit in the larger trans* community? Have you found friendship and connection among other trans* people, binary or non-binary? Have you encountered discrimination or resistance to your identity within the trans* community?
• Have you been able to find or create language to describe your gender/experience? Are you intentional about using (or NOT using) particular words for your gender / experience? Why do you use (or not use) these?
• How has your non-binary identity intersected with other parts of your identity, such as your race, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religion, physical ability/disability, or age? Are there times when these other parts of your identity come in conflict with your gender? If so, how do you manage these conflicts?
• What do you like about being non-binary? What is your biggest frustration? How do you navigate a world set up only for men and women?
• Who are your mentors? Who has guided you on your journey / transition? Who do you look up to?
• What advice would you give to genderqueer/gender non-conforming/non-binary people who are at the beginning of their journey?
As compensation for their contribution, all authors will receive a free copy of the anthology upon its publication. Transgress Press will donate all proceeds to organizations benefiting trans communities (www.transgresspress.com/our-donations).
We look forward to hearing from you!
janitorqueer 