#hate hate hate her makeup and pixie cut she’s butch!!!

[inquisitor-apologist]

I miss when Sabine Wren was allowed to be butch

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Gender Queer: There’s a Few Memories that Stick to me that I’m Sure Don’t Mean Anything to Anyone Else

[Content warning: mild transphobia, drunk driving mention, mild homophobia, mentions of abusive relationship, F-slur used for self (second to last paragraph)]

I’m sixteen years old, sitting on the kitchen table while my mom tuts around in the kitchen.  I haven’t come out yet, but I have cut my hair off.  Julie Andrews pixie that my mom tried to fix, but it was too short to turn out anything but boyish.  I think it’s starting to grow out, get a little shaggy.  I didn’t have any idea how hair gel worked at that age.  I was wearing baggy jeans and chucks and a green t-shirt that said “Meddle Not In The Affairs Of Dragons, For You Are Crunchy And Taste Good With Ketchup.”  My favorite uncle got it for me.  Mom is staring at me for a long time, and I finally turn to look at her and ask, what? what’s up?  She doesn’t want to tell me, says I don’t want to know.  I insist.  She finally sighs and says, “Well, I was just looking at you, and for a moment I felt like I was looking at the son I could have had.  That’s strange, right?  I’m sorry.”  She thought I’d be upset, like I didn’t know what I was doing, and while I felt bizarre it wasn’t because I was sad.  It was because I was happy.  She looked at me and saw a son, saw a boy, and something about that felt so right that I felt guilty.  I shouldn’t have wanted it.  I didn’t change anything, though.

Twenty-two years old.  Work got out at seven-thirty, and I drove the hour and a half to a different time zone to the only gay bar within driving distance.  Jackie’s in South bend.  Or Vickie’s maybe.  It’s dark, and I’m in a pick up truck and a black t-shirt.  The city can be dangerous in certain areas and I’m anxious about everything I’m doing.  Gay bars are different here than they are in Vegas.  Still, I bolster myself up and go inside, walk with wide shoulders and heavy boots, trying to feel brave to be taken seriously. 

It’s empty.  The bartender is a gorgeous person with long hair and lipstick and rough hands.  They laugh when I order a Seagram’s but oblige, and I torture myself trying to find a polite way to tell them how pretty they are.  My not-yet-girlfriend texts me and tells me not to be such a baby, to have fun.  I want to go home.  

Then two people walk in, a man and a woman both shorter than I am, and they pass around a plate of vegan fudge that I’m dumb enough to eat even though it could easily be laced with something.  I’m a disaster with weed, each and every time.  I got lucky.  The boy sits next to me with the girl on his other side, and she leans around him to flirt with me, hand on me knee and shoulder and neck, and he sits there and smirks at me.  It’s not predatory.  He doesn’t look at me the way I’m used to men looking at me, like I’m something pretty and easy and delicate.  We arm wrestle.  He leans his head on my shoulder. I feel like a man. 

They dance with me, two more Seagrams and I’m no longer self-conscious, though I am blushing.  She drags me around by the belt loops.  He lets me put my hands on his sides.  She pushes me against a wall, and kisses me neck, and he places a hand on my chest over my binder and seems happy to find it, which is not a response I’ve ever had before. 

They tell me I’m the best of both worlds, half-way between a man and a woman, and that they’re bisexual and best friends and looking for someone to play with.  I play for a while, safe there in the public eye and probably pissing off the regulars there for a quiet night.  I tap out after four or five drinks and drive myself home, a little drunk, very unsafe, but absolutely glowing.

I’m eighteen years old, and in less than 24 hours I’ll be admitted to the hospital and put on a ventilator for pneumonia-- so obviously this memory is hazy.  I’d gotten up at six that morning to get work done before school, I’d struggled through school, and I’d stopped at a gas station before work.  There, I bought two doses of Dayquil, a coke, and a five hour energy.  I slammed it all and clocked in to the job that I hated.  It payed $6 an hour and was hardly enough to put gas in the beater truck I drove around everywhere.

I’m going through the racks, bending down to pick clothes up off the floor and rehang them.  Goodwill was my personal nightmare.  Every time I leaned over, my head spun and vision danced with black, and my heart would pound and skip so hard I was half-convinced I was dying. 

Someone’s sweet little grandma drops something in front of me, and I stoop down to pick it up for her.  She says, “Oh what a sweet young man!” 

And the friend she’s with, another darling grandma, says, “No, no, that’s a girl.”

“It’s a boy.”

“It’s a girl.”

They argue back and forth, and I’m too dizzy and nauseous to be an active part of the conversation.  I remember standing there doing my best to keep the floor from rocking underneath me while also glowing in adoration.  I was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt under my smock, and my baggy navy blue school trousers.  I was an enigma, and I was overjoyed.

After work I would go back to school for play rehearsal-- my part was small, unimportant, a Pick a Little Lady in the Music Man-- so I spent most of the evening on the floor between seats listening to my friends talk.  I would get so tired, head spinning and heavy and eyes burning, that I would have to lay down.  Every time I was horizontal, my chest would heavy and coughs from the bottom of my gut would overwhelm me enough to have me right back up and doubling over.  Eventually, someone dragged me up to our director, who sent me home.  I insisted I could drive.  I don’t remember anything between talking to her and being at the doctor’s office the next morning, suffocating behind a face mask and half-collapsed in the waiting room.

He was terrible.  Sneaky, passive-aggressive, physically aggressive.  He was rude to waiters and condescending.  God only knows how I was stupid enough to waste so much time on him, let alone give him any power over me.  It started with a loss of virginity, when he offered blatantly and my dumb-ass brain told me “it’s now or never.”

It was terrible.  Should have known from that first night, when I went over to watch movies wearing sweatpants (men’s section), boxer briefs, and a pull over sweatshirt (hers).  He said, “you really dress like this, huh?”  He’d only ever seen me in workout clothes at our college sport club. 

The thing about bad men is that it doesn’t matter what your gender is, if you have a vagina that’s all they see you as. 

We were out on a date a few months in, bowling at a casino after grabbing dinner.  He’d said to dress up, so I put on my nice black jeans and a button up shirt.  He was disappointed.  We argued over who got to pay the bill.  I won, and he snapped something about how he didn’t have to waste his money at least.  

We went bowling.  Every bowling date I’ve gone on with men (3) have been absolute train wrecks in totally opposite ways.  This time, we spend the night at odds with each other, as he takes it all seriously and tries to give me pointers, and I do trick shots-- sliding on my knees and bowling belly-down on the floor and spinning around with my eyes closed.  He thinks I’m ridiculous, but I’m having fun.  

We’re walking back, and he pulls his hand out of mine and sticks it in his pocket.  He says “We look like homosexuals,” and I’m baffled, because at 20 years old I might be butch but I’m still a girl.  He says, “You walk like a man, and why are you dressed like that?”  He tells me I ought to grow my hair out, or at least put some makeup on.  He asks, “Do you ever wear dresses?”  Asks me to try and put in an effort. 

I bought a dress a few months later, and I showed it to him.  He frowned. 

When I look in the mirror in a dress, I see nothing but a boy in a dress.  There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but when you’re not thinking of yourself as a boy it feels rather disheartening.  I had some weird hope that the dress itself would transform me into a woman.  I think he did too. 

I didn’t wear that dress again until my twenty-first birthday celebration with my uncle.  He came in from out of town to waste money on a elaborate, drunken celebration.  He has money to waste like that.  I dragged one of my friends along, my roommate since sophomore year, and it was the most drunk I had ever been and she was a sweetheart about holding my hand and leading me around and adjusting my dress every time the straps slipped down or I spread my legs too far.  Nothing makes me feel like a fag quite as much as wearing a dress.  I still don’t know how to feel about that.

In a way, I’m glad that he never saw me as “pretty.”  I’m glad I managed to be such a disappointment, and to crawl my way out of it with my life in tact and his pride rather bruised.  He deserved nothing less, but his gross comment-- his confusion, disgust-- still makes me grin when I think about it.

I’ve taken so much joy throughout the years in other people’s confusion about me.  At nineteen I used to proudly say that my gender was “confusion.”  To be fair, I am rather confused by it.  So are other people.  And in its own way, isn’t that rather wonderful?

[cumuluscrow]

dumb stupid gender stuff

i can’t believe i’ve actually resorting to making a read more tumblr post about this but sometimes life throws u curveballs

it’s so so hard for me to form coherant sentences about this topic, it’s just confusing and upsetting and i feel like the more i discover the less i know

i’m gonna refrain from describing my whole fucking gender journey but in essence, i feel like i see myself in a far more gender-neutral way, and i feel varying degrees of discomfort when i’m recognised as being female. that’s the long and short of it. i get that this probably seems like SUCH a minor thing to a lot of people (god there has to be a name for everything nowadays not liking makeup doesn’t mean you’re not female!! just be a butch lesbian or something you know). but it’s really not like that, i dont know how to describe it. this is NOT a ‘decision’ i made lightly, i’ve been torn up over this for years, and i know that i feel so refreshingly like myself when i just confess to myself that this is who i am. someone who is non-binary.

i’m trying to kind of... figure out metaphors and ways of describing the way i feel. it feels like i’m a spy with some kind of female disguise, going through life lying to everyone, and that brings a strange kind of disconcertment with it, almost as if i feel bad for lying to people... with like, my appearance??

i dont even know if this IS gender stuff. i might well turn out to be cis, when i finally figure this shit out in about 300 years time. maybe i’m just really insecure and fucked up (which i kinda am) and i’m subconciously choosing to channel my self-hate into my gender. i dont know! all i know is that i prefer to be seen and referred to in a gender-neutral way. that’s really all i know.

here’s the thing though, because this goes far deeper than me. how do you exist as someone who is non-binary? how is that possible? every single fucking aspect of life is gendered, society, science. the way you recognise people. when you see a person, you always notice 2 things - their race, and their percieved gender. you can’t not.

i feel like i can’t quite get across my point here. i think what i’m trying to get at is internalised hate. there’s a part of me that definitely hates me for this. like, just be goddamn normal for once in your life. i support non-binary people, of course i do, but there’s a part of me that eyerolls at the purple pixie cut, binder-wearing nb, and there’s a part of me that eyerolls at the sparkly eyeshadow-wearing, bearded nb, and i hate that. i hate that that’s in me, not only is it not very nice, but it makes things so much harder on myself and if i hate myself any more than i already do then my soul is gonna collapse in on myself and form a black hole. finally, i will be free of gender.

oh and then there’s the flipside, of course. my brain can’t give me a break because if it’s not thinking that sort of complex shit, its thinking that i’m not nb - not at all, you’re some snowflake attention seeker and you’re an asshole for appropriating other peoples terms. there are people who are actually nb and they’re nothing like you, they’re just not. they’re real and you’re some messed up immature little bitch.

then there’s the less deep stuff, the practical side of things.

i came out to my girlfriend a few weeks ago. even though she had a hunch, she was still really upset and i still feel terrible for messing with her feelings, or something

we’ve been best friends since we were in infant school. she doesn’t know how to change how she perceives someones gender when she’s known them so long. she was upset because she felt like she knew me, she felt like she knew my ‘soul’, that it felt feminine, or something (such an aquarius). she was upset because she knew she saw me in a way that might make me feel uncomfortable.

we can’t seem to have productive conversations about this. we just ignore it 99.9% of the time, and then we have conversations late in the evening where we both cry and we wake up the next morning and everything is the same. i still hear her use she pronouns in conversations with me (eg. i bet that person was stood there like ‘what is she doing’? the she in reference to me. bad example but i can’t think of any others.

here’s the thing though, i dont want to correct her. i dont want to make it weird, and i dont want to bring my issues into a normal scenario. after all, this is something we exclusively, only acknowledge in small, serious conversations late at night, i can’t bring it out into a normal scenario. and i think she’s the same. we’re both equally uncomfortable to acknowledge it.

which begs the question - where the fuck do we go from here?

oh, and other people. yeah, that’s a thing, too.

i don’t plan on ever telling either of my parents. talking to my dad about normal stuff kind of feels like torture at the best of times, and my mum, bless her, doesn’t really... get things. i’d rather her just straight up not know this, than have an inaccurate idea of what it was.

work colleagues? well, before lockdown when i was at work i had to listen to a conversation about how nonbinary people are all stupid, gender exists, sex exists, biology, blah blah blah (already something i’m extremely insecure abotu the concept of) i don’t know how to properly describe how unpleasant that is to stand and listen to, knowing that you’re the exact person they’re talking shit about. it makes dread curl up in your chest, it makes you feel sick, and it makes you too anxious to even think about speaking up. when i got home i just started crying

other family? well, i once had to sit and listen to my sister go on an anti-nb rant, too, equally unpleasant experience

all other family is shit. just shit. bunch of wankers i’d rather not talk to them ever

i feel like, i finally have a vision of a door in my mind that i’ve been looking for for years, but when i approach it and look through it’s just filled with so much anxiety and panic and distress that it negates that fact that i’m on the other side of that door, living far more authentically

i dont know what to do next. i really don’t, and i’m scared. i feel desperate to reach out and like, talk to some other nonbinary people or something. just, i want someone, in real life, to stand there and validate me, without there being any catch, without there being any negatives, without any other things at play. 

wow. this is so long

[ask-the-hamilkids-blog]

The Characters Pt 2

Part two of the characters, here we go!

Sophia Sarah Seabury

- Aged 17, she/her

- Heterosexual, cisgender

- Oldest daughter of Samuel Seabury and George Frederick

- Soft pale blonde curls to her shoulders, very fluffy and wavy, bright blue eyes

- Likes to wear expensive clothing and jewelry 

- Enjoys being the center of attention. She sings in the Choir at school and has starred in numerous plays and musicals with the drama department

- Annoyingly perfectionistic

- Followed by a group of girls she calls her “Ladies in Waiting” but aside from that she only has one true friend

- Does have a kind heart, it’s just hard to reach 

- Is the type who pretends not to care much about anything but secretly cares a lot about everything

- Has a hard time expressing how she feels about people, she isn’t a bully or anything but most don’t regard her as a very kind person

Amelia Rose Seabury

- Aged 15, she/her

- Lesbian, cisgender

- Middle daughter of Samuel Seabury and George Frederick

- Pale blonde hair styled in a pixie cut, bright blue eyes

- Captain of the debate team, loves to argue and debate

- Everyone kind of knew she was gay, it wasn’t exactly a secret

- Considers herself a futch lesbian with a slight preference for butch styles, wore a suit to homecoming and prom

- Argues with Sophia almost daily, their differences cause them to clash easily

- Plays softball recreationally

- Can crush anyone in a debate or argument; she’s very intelligent and well rounded in many subjects

- Comes across as cold because her mind is constantly going 60 miles an hour, she’s always thinking

- Can be friendly and kind, she’s just closed off somewhat

Mary Caroline Seabury

- Aged 14, she/her

- Asexual, cisgender

- Long pale blonde hair always up in a strict bun (she hates having hair in her face), bright blue eyes

- Youngest daughter of Samuel Seabury and George Frederick

- Friendly but reserved

- Puts all her energy into making sure she doesn’t get dragged into Sophia and Amelia’s fights

- Loves kids, wants to be a teacher when she gets older

- Has a slight temper issue

- Prefers more subtle approaches to showing affection towards her sisters; she’ll listen to Sophia rant or help her practice a play and will leave fruit and water out for Amelia when she returns from the batting cages

- Probably the best person to tutor you on anything, she has a passion for learning and educating

Gabriel Georges Mulligan

- Aged 17, he/him

- Bisexual, cisgender

- Short curly brown hair, curious brown eyes

- Oldest child and only son of Hercules Mulligan and Gilbert de Lafayette

- Looks terrifying, really isn’t

- Has a strong and stocky build that makes him appear more intense than he is

- He’s friends with a lot of the football team, they keep trying to recruit him but he’s not into it

- Really really likes photography and journalism

- Loves hard and fast

- Sometimes identifies more with the female gender than male but doesn’t know what it means or how to deal with it so he gets really quiet on those days (he’s genderfluid but hasn’t come to terms with it yet)

- Has been in love with the same person since high school

- Kind of enigmatic, he’s unintentionally hard to read

Rachel Jefferson-Madison

- Aged 18, she/her

- Demisexual, cisgender

- Straight long black hair always in a low ponytail, crisp dark brown eyes, dark skin

- Oldest child of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison

- Will fight you

- No impulse control

- Sophia’s best friend

- Likes being outside, is really into biology and ecosystems

- Can draw really well, she and Charlie bond over this, and Ms. Lewis is her favorite teacher

- Lets Liam do her hair and makeup before they go out somewhere as a family

- Scary and intimidating, she is protective over anyone she meets

Abigail Jefferson-Madison

- Aged 14, she/her

- Asexual/Aromantic, cisgender

- Wavy brown hair and bright brown eyes, dark skin

- Can look at someone and make them smile

- Energetic and a go-getter

- Donates half her birthday money to animal shelters

- Talks to Charles Lee about wanting to be a veterinarian

- Loves animals

- Struggles with social anxiety but she’s determined to get through it, she prefers the presence of animals

- Wants 50 pets, she’s the reason the Jefferson-Madison house has 3 cats and 2 dogs

And finished! Now that you know the characters a little better feel free to talk with them or request somethings via the ask box!!!

[sighfertryptich]

Im going to rant(ish), skip if you want.

So I was watching a video (its the “Generations React to Dan Howell and Eugene Lee Yang Coming Out On Youtube” video by FBE) and everyone started sharing their coming out stories, and everyone was sharing that they were either scared or felt a freak by it. I felt that I wanted to, considering this is the only platform I have on here that I can express myself to the fullest without judgement, share my own, even though I am not in an accepting household.

So, let me start out with this. Growing up, I thought I was straight. There were no signs of me feeling any different than other kids. I was one of the more innocent children, I didnt care about gender identity or sexuality. I just cared about who I was going to play with at recess. By the time I hit fifth grade, I was naïve to the fact that not everyone was attracted to everyone around them. I didn’t understand that some boys only liked girls, and some girls only liked boys. In my community, it was rare that the gays and lesbians understood what it was, so they werent around to put that knowledge in our vocabulary. To me, if you had a crush, it could be on either a female or a male, whether or not you were the same gender or the opposite.

Reaching middle school, about a year later, our views were widened. People around me were realizing or expressing their sexualities. I, on the other hand, still didn’t understand that there were labels to these things. (Keep in mind, there still weren’t lesbians or gays out in the open yet. Everyone was either bisexual or straight.)

When this new vocabulary came to light, I could finally attempt to put a name to myself, liking both men and women.

I accepted the term bisexual for myself at the ripe age of 11.

I didn’t plan on telling my parents. I never wanted to. They didnt have to know who I was imagining kissing, they didnt have to know who I had crushes on. To this day, I never planned on telling them until the day came that I would have to. As in, if the time came, I would tell them when I got engaged to a woman.

Throughout middle school, I was labeled bisexual. It just felt normal to like who I wanted to like, and the people I surrounded myself with accepted me. I guess I got lucky with that. Reaching into high school, I got my first serious woman x woman crush. Every single day, she’d come into class and I would just gush over her. She was gorgeous. And being honest, a ripe 13 year old me was in her scene phase, and this girl oozed alternative. She had a grunge look, part of her hair was dyed sea-foam green, and she was sweet and funny and kind. As far as I knew, she liked me back.

I remember my first Sadie Hawkins dance. I got with my school’s GSA (Gay Straight Alliance) Club and put together this whole thing where me and a couple friends made shirts that said “Will you go to Sadie Hawkins with me?” She said yes! but then later the dance was canceled and we just made other plans. As time went on, she led me on to thinking she liked me. I found out she didn’t and that she was wasting her time on me when she got with one of my guy friends.

This is when my chronic depression stepped its pussy up. Thank you Dan Howell for giving me that quote.

When I was 15, I moved to my small town a state over where I reside to this day. I was still labeling myself as bisexual. I met my first lesbian that year. (And yes, this was my first time meeting a lesbian. Im serious.) She became my best friend for the next 3 and a half years. She opened me to the world of different labels and helped me through finding out what I realized I truly was.

I was, and am, Pansexual. And a proud one at that. #PansexualPride.

I got my first serious girlfriend when I was 18. Or at least, I thought it was serious. I was head over heels for her. She claimed she was bisexual. [I say claimed because she admitted after we broke up that she was straight.]

Long story short, she used me to go to RenFest, then broke up with me a week later blaming her depression, then got with some dude a day later.

A couple of months later, I met a girl through an app called Amino. She was pansexual, like me, and we had a lot of the same interests. Only problem was that while I lived in Louisiana, she lived on an island off the coast of Florida.

Although our relationship didn’t last long, I added her because this was the first time in my entire life that I actually could see myself marrying a woman.

Let me explain.

Up until this point, I had only ever seen myself marrying a man. Yes, I had an attraction to women. Ive dated women, although not many, but never could see myself marrying any of them. Nothing wrong with that.

During this time, I cut my hair very short. Like, pixie-cut with an undercut. My intentions to cut it were that it’d be easier to put up into wigs when I cosplayed, and it’d be less to take care of and look good. We’ll come back to this later.

Directly after our 3 month anniversary, yes I do month anniversaries, I met my current girlfriend, Cole.

I swear, it was one of those moments where you see someone and you know they’re going to be in your life for years to come. [Fun fact - she told me that after she had met me for the first time, she joked with her friend that her and I “would have an August wedding” even though we barely had passed a few sentences between each other.] There’s just that feeling when you look someone in the eyes and know that there’s something special about them. Something you want - no, need - in your life, whether it’s to make a life-long decision or just to help you grow as a person.

I started dressing more comfortably. I no longer wore skirts or dresses. I wore jeans and t-shirts and hats and less makeup. I wore chains attached to my belt loops. All in all, I started looking more masculine, even though it was just me dressing comfortably. My job allowed it, I was earning the money to allow me to buy clothes like this. It made me happy. I started feeling more comfortable with more masculine terms rather than strictly feminine terms, ie. “mans, they, them, boy” etc. I wasn’t uncomfortable when someone said I looked like a boy, nor was I uncomfortable with my female body. I just didnt care. It wasnt insulting as I was raised to think it was. In fact, I encouraged it. I allowed - and still allow - people to think I was whatever gender they assigned me with. In all, I became Genderfluid. Gender Neutral, if you will.

Now, we’re going to back up just a tiny bit. Tee tiny, nothing big.

About a month before I met Cole, someone outted me to my mother. Keep in mind, I was never planning on coming out to her. My older sister is like me, Pansexual. She strives on the fact that she doesnt tell people she’s in a woman x woman relationship unless people directly ask. She doesnt label her sexuality. And I look up to her severely for that.

My mother is homophobic. She says she isn’t, and maybe she’s not, due to the fact she accepts my sister and her girlfriend, and hopes they get married someday. But for me, I was supposed to be the ray of hope. I was supposed to be blonde, straight, thin, cheerleading captain female who went to college and became highly successful. I wasn’t supposed to be the 5-foot-8, blue haired, overweight, artsy gender fluid kid she had who dropped out of high school, got their GED, and “doesnt show signs of responsibility” (- per my mother, who doesnt want to put me through college) kid she ultimately got.

Dressing how I felt was comfortable and loving who I wanted to love brought me hate from the one person who should love me unconditionally - my own mother. Most people were given hate by their peers, being called gay and butch. My hate was given from the person who gave me life. My mother has said that she regrets getting pregnant with me, and that she would’ve stopped after her first two kids. In fact, she had her tubes tied BEFORE she got pregnant with me. I was being born, with or without her consent. She has told me countless times that she feels like she failed as a parent due to the way I came out as an adult.

To this day, she tells me that I constantly look “too lesbian” or “too butch” and that I need to “go back to how I used to look”. She doesnt accept that I like women. She calls me a lesbian - and everyone knows that when you like both men and women, you’re very obviously not a lesbian. Ive told her countless times that I’m not a lesbian. But she never listens. She uses the term lesbian as anyone in middle school would use the word gay - as an insult.

It makes me confused. How could you raise your kid - which by the way, Im the first kid she raised on her own, her other two were raised with either my grandmother or the baby’s father - and tell them you’re disgusted by their happiness? How could you be okay with one pansexual daughter and hate the other?

(This next part might be TMI but it makes another avid point.)

How can you be okay with your daughter sending explicit pictures to a boy, but be disgusted by your daughter holding hands with a girl?

I still have to hide my relationship with Cole. It makes me sick to my stomach to not be able to say “Mom, this is my girlfriend.” with the girl I care ever so deeply for. I want to take her to family events and show her to the world, screaming at the top of my lungs that Cole is mine and mine alone.

Cole tells me that I’m an idiot when I get gushy. In fact, she’ll probably text me saying I made her cry (dont worry, its tears of love) if she gets to the end of this.

Cole is gorgeous. Even when I spend the night, and she’s got sleep in her eyes the next morning, teeth not yet brushed, hair a mess, making gross yawning faces, I still think she’s quite possibly the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. She’s always got me nonstop laughing, doubling over and straight up snorting sometimes. She’s caring and headstrong, not afraid to stand up for what she believes in.

I want to be able to show her off.

But I cant with a mother like mine.

So, long story short, I grew up in an accepting community. Fell hard for some men and some women. Grew up and realized who I was as a person. Found someone who accepts me through each and every questioning moment I have with myself. Yet, I cant show her off like the people around me all because of the one person who gave me life.

I guess you could say this is the end, but everyone knows its a To Be Continued. You just gotta roll with what life gives you, whether or not the people in your life are there to love you or hurt you.

If you got this far, I applaud and also thank you. I’m not able to rant to anyone like this, so if you took the time to read this, I appreciate it. No one wants to hear my story. If you do…

My name is Marley, and I am a Pansexual, Gender Neutral, KPop loving cosplayer who is not afraid to love who they want to love.

Thank you ♡

(Btw, sorry if I got off track towards the end. My mind wanders when telling stories. I wrote this on my phone so I’ll go back and add a “Keep Reading” thing if you’d rather just skip it.)

[melonoverlord]

Val for all the ABCs asks

A: Aptitude

1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

She’s been tinkering as long as she can remember. Her early childhood is a little fuzzy but she knows she’s been building little robots out of scrap metal and letting them run around town.

2. what activities have they participated in?

She’s the chief technician on the Freedom Vessel and also technically was a spy on Biomia but she was spying for herself rather than an organization.

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

Learning how to talk to people. She’s only had her sisters and her eventually girlfriend on Biomia, but now there are people who love her that aren’t like seven and fourteen, so it’s a strange feeling being able to talk about herself without taking care of them.

4. what things are they bad at?

Following orders. She escaped her own quarantine when she was shot four times in the back because she was bored and wanted to celebrate Castor’s birthday with him.

5. what is their most impressive talent?

Definitely designing tech. She worked on B3rT13, Phoebe (the bot, not her sister), Ciri’s tear ducts, Ravi’s arms and legs, and Nivviah’s trident.

B: Basics

1. what is their hair color?

Brown

2. what is their eye color?

Brown, a little darker than her hair.

3. how tall are they?

5′0

4. how old are they?

21

5. how much do they weigh?

185 lbs

C: Comfort

1. how do they sit in a chair?

One leg over each side of the chair, leaned back, arms crossed. She’s a definite manspreader.

2. in what position do they sleep?

In fetal position, hugging herself, sometimes hugging Phoebe as well. If she’s dead tired she’ll just sprawl out anywhere and usually B3rT13 will eventually carry her to bed.

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

Snuggled up to Ciri or Castor, her favorite siblings, and watching old horror movies in their pajamas. Anytime Val can get away with not wearing a bra, she will.

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

Strawberry ice cream. It was the first food she was given when she was in the hospital after she tried to commit suicide. It was really when she and Tam became drinking buddies because he said “I know eating food probably will hurt for a bit, so I brought you ice cream.”

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

B3rT13, actually. Ciri’s the best for the physical comforts and reassurance, but B3rT13 is there to say “Hey, you made me and I’m amazing, so fuck you for thinking you’re not amazing too. And if anyone says that you aren’t, I’ll hit them with my hammer.”

D: Decoration

1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name?

A lot of natural light since she’s a vent gremlin who only gets artificial light from lamps, an entire floor dedicated to being a workshop so she can separate work from home and let all the upstairs be places for her to call her own, including a guest room. She’d also have pictures of her family and friends set up everywhere, even someone silly like the bathroom.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room?

More blankets and pillows than a child probably needs, a shit ton of plushies that she finds online (and some from Who), and a mini fridge to store enough snacks so that even if something happens to her, her child will never have to go hungry.

3. how do they decorate their own room?

Val’s room on the Freedom Vessel is a #mess, because half of it is split into her workshop. On her side, she shares her bed with Phoebe and at times B3rT13 when he decides to sleep in her room. She also has the only stuffed animal she brought from Biomia, which is a ratty stuffed pig she calls Rumplepigskin.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear?

She usually wears jeans and a baseball tee, but when she needs to be dressed up, she’ll wear slacks and a blouse. You’d have to tie her down to get her into a dress. But she also wears the beanie that Ciri made her.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

Nah, she usually doesn’t wear makeup or do her nails because when working with metal, paint is easily chipped.

E: External Personality

1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

She is very meticulous about the personality she portrays which is a carefree, somewhat lazy, girl who just happens to be one of the greatest technophiles of the age. If she’s currently dealing with her trauma, those feelings will slip out but for the most part the persona she puts on isn’t who she really is.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm?

Valerie Anne Read has never conformed to the norm and will continue to break away from the norm until the day she gets blown up on some backwater planet.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

Val never really cared what the trends of the time were since they tended to shift every couple months or so. She only tends to follow trends if she enjoys it herself.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

It took her a while because technology is a little behind on Biomia, but once Percy introduced her to the internet, she is on it and catching up as fast as she can. Right now she’s very into space twitter.

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it outon their own?

There are about fourteen different layers to Val that she lets different people figure out. You’d have to know her for a long ass time before she let out everything to you. Even her sisters didn’t know everything about Val’s true feelings.

F: Fun

1. what do they do for fun?

Crawl through vents, play nerf guns with Castor, Ravi, and B3rT13, and teach B3rT13 different swear words and lewd gestures. Right now his favorite word is “cunt”

2. what is their ideal party?

Lots of wine, chocolate, and a nerf gun fight with everyone on the ship. She’s already working on her power poses. She doesn’t super love giant parties, but she’s welcome to one if it has all her friends.

3. who would they have the most fun with?

Her favorite sibs, Castor, Ciri, Flor, and Percy.

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

Nope. Nearly every rule that the Freedom Vessel has, she has broken. Luna had to make a specific set of rules for Val just because she kept breaking the main ones. One of them is “Stop putting food in the vents even if they don’t expire”

5. do they go out a lot?

She hasn’t gone on a lot of missions (the Therion mission was actually her first one ever), but she went out a lot on Biomia to at least look at the clubs even if she never went in. But she’s very interested in the casino on Helios and is ready to lose her money.

G: Gorgeous

1. what is their most attractive external feature?

She has a beautiful soft butch aesthetic which includes a rad pixie cut that perfectly frame her large brown eyes.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

Even in the tensest of situations, Val can manage to light up a room with her jokes and keep everyone at east. She also has a nice thing to say about everyone, even if it hidden in a joke.

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

You won’t be caught dead without cool tech. Val’s given electric tridents, a sassy robot, electricity-absorbing suits, arms and legs, and yes, she is working secretly on Ravi’s rocket knees. Just don’t tell Ciri. She’s waiting for his ninth birthday.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

Her hair is one of the softest you will ever see and you will want to run your fingers through her hair for hours. She also loves her chub and makes shabby chic look like a snack.

5. what parts of others do they envy?

That they don’t have to hide pretty much everything about themselves and can have honest relationships.

H: Heat

1. do they rather a hot or cold room?

Cold room. If her room gets to hot all the tech starts to malfunction. It’s easier to heat up tech from the inside than to cool it down.

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

Winter. She hates being hot since the summer on Biomia can get sweltering and she had to live outside on a hot metal rollercoaster cart.

3. do they like the snow?

Not really. The only snow she was around was slush, and slush looks nasty, especially with all the dirt on the street.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity?

Cannonballing into the pool and getting water all over Tam because he complains that his hair’s going to frizz up.

5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

She loves building snowpeople. She’s only seen a heavy snowfall once on Biomia where there was actually enough snow not to turn to slush, and she loved building a snowman with Isa and Phoebe. They gave it a carrot dick.

I: In-the-closet

1. what is their sexuality?

Harold, she’s a lesbian.

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality?

Biomia’s one of the planets that still restricts by sexuality (at least in the legal code), so it was expected that she would have to be with a man. It didn’t take her long to realize that she was much more comfortable being with women.

3. have they ever questioned their gender?

Nope, she’s always been comfortable in her gender. She does tend to dress more masculine than feminine though. She’s a soft butch.

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT?

Her sisters never cared about her sexuality, and both of them probably queer as well (though both were too young to act on anything), but all they cared whether about if they were safe and if Valerie was happy.

5. how long would/did it take for them to come out?

She told her sisters when she first starting dating her girlfriend, but really only had to formally come out once, which was a little after she turned sixteen.

J: Joy

1. what makes them happy?

Tinkering in her workshop, eating oreos, crawling through the vents and scaring people, drinking wine and watching trashy TV with Percy and Flor.

2. who makes them happy?

Ciri, Castor, Flor, and Percy. All her favorite brothers and sisters.

3. are there any songs that bring them joy?

‘Young Volcanoes’ by Fall Out Boy, ‘Miss Jackson’ by Panic! at the Disco, and ‘It Don’t Mean a Thing’ by Ella Fitzgerald

4. are they happy often?

She hasn’t been happy in years. But she thinks she’s on her way to happiness now that she has more friends.

5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

B3rT13 and knowing that her inventions are having positive outcomes.

K: Kill

1. have they ever thought about suicide?

Yes, and attempted it when she was 17.

2. have they ever thought about homicide?

Absolutely. She’s still itching to get back at Biomia for taking her family away from her.

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who?

Honestly, the entire Council of Nine, her ex-girlfriend, and the bitches who shot her in the back on Therion. It’s a good thing Percy and Flor crushed them.

4. who would miss them if they died?

She’s hoping everyone on the Freedom Vessel, but she thinks Ciri, Castor, Flor, and Percy would probably be the most heartbroken.

5. who would be happy they died, anyone?

Pretty much everyone who had a hand in her sisters’ murders.

L: Lemons

1. what is their favorite fruit?

Strawberries. She loves strawberry anything.

2. what is their least favorite fruit?

Pomegranates. For some reason her mind always goes to spider eggs.

3. are there any foods they hate?

Pickles are still un-fucking-valid, no matter what anyone says. And that’s the tea.

4. do they have any food intolerances?

Dairy. Does it stop her from eating dairy? Absolutely not.

5. what is their favorite food?

Strawberry short cake.

M: Maternal

1. would they want a daughter or a son?

She already kinda had two daughters, so she’d be chill with any kid.

2. how many children do they want?

No more than 2 or 3. She doesn’t know how Ciri has like fourteen kids.

3. would they be a good parent?

She doesn’t look it, but Val did a great job raising Phoebe and Isa, a few mistakes regarding trust aside.

4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?

A son, she’d probably name it after Castor or Perseus, but she could also see him being called Roman (after her name of Valerie). For a girl, she would definitely start with Phoebe or Isabella, but could also see naming her kids after Ciri or Florina.

5. would they adopt?

Absolutely. She knows what it’s like to be an orphan. Also there’s no way she’s having sex with a man.

N: Never Have I Ever

1. what would they never do?

Betray her friends or family.

2. what have they never done that they want to do?

She’s not going to lie, she really wants to sky dive. Flor promised to take her once by literally carrying her up and then dropping her before swooping down and catching her again, but Luna has always shot the idea down.

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?

Actively like the capitalist, imperialist, and fascist qualities that Genesis has and try to uphold them. Also she can’t believe that people like eating fucking pickles, Castor.

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?

When she first joined the Freedom Vessel, she completely trashed her room and broke pretty much every breakable object, and then Nivviah calmly asked if she would help her clean up and Val had to watch through tear streaked eyes as Nivviah patiently and silently helped clean up the room Val trashed.

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

Join an international revolution.

O: Optimism

1. are they optimistic or pessimistic?

Optimistic, though she honestly doesn’t believe most of it. She usually says it so she can hopefully believe her own words in the future and to instill hope in others. She is very pessimistic towards herself.

2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others?

She tends to be optimistic around people just because she can’t stand to see other hopeless, but only really does it if they’re looking for inspiration. If they want to stew in their own sadness, Val will usually let them.

3. are they good at giving advice?

She’s probably given the most advice on the ship, mostly for relationships which she still doesn’t understand because she’s single as a pringle and her one and only relationship ended in two people dead. She is pretty good at giving advice though because it works out if people listen to her.

4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them?

Ravi and Crumb, her sisters, and Percy.

5. were they always optimistic?

She was never really optimistic, except for her false optimism now. As a kid she was much more pragmatic and realist.

P: Personality

1. what is their best personality trait?

She is a ride or die loyal friend. If you get on her good side, she has shown that she is willing to risk her life for you and treats you as a sibling. If you’re her friend, there is close to nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

2. what is their worst personality trait?

*Alicia Keys voice* This girl is a liar! Because of the trauma in her life and what she feels guilty or scared about, she will never give a straight answer and you will have to unravel several layers to find the truth. Even her own version of the truth is skewed because of her own self-deprecation.

3. what of their personality do others love?

Ironically Ciri loves her honesty (at least when it comes to people not Val), her willingness to drop everything for her friends and family, her supportiveness, and her creativity.

4. what of their personality do others envy?

Ciri envies her ability to use humor as a deflection and her ability to say things that other people might be thinking but don’t want to say.

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

She hates that the personality she has now is a result of her trauma and wishes she could go back to how she was around five years ago.

Q: Questions

1. do they ask for help?

Only as a last resort. She wants to be able to show that she can do things by herself and will only ask for help if there is literally no other way she can solve it herself.

2. do they ask questions in class?

She asked a lot of questions about the Freedom Vessel, mostly to Nivviah, once she was comfortable to talk to people after she first arrived. It wasn’t even full on talking to her, but she wrote at least fifty questions in her notebook and gave it to Nivviah to answer, and to the best of her knowledge, Nivviah answered all of them. The questions ranged from “Where did Luna get this ship” to “Why is Oberon like that”

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

Nope. She will change subjects, ask back an equally uncomfortable question, or just lie flat out. She hates answering questions about herself.

4. do they ask weird questions?

Oh definitely. She once asked Icio whether Theuthidans’ dicks were smaller fish (she may or may not have been drunk) and once bonded with Juniper on that month when everyone was on Theuthida where Dryads had tree vaginas (she was definitely sober and the question had been on her mind for those two months).

5. are they curious?

She’s a Ravenclaw, she’s got that curiosity that either gets herself killed or people freaked out.

R: Rules

1. do they follow rules?

Not in the slightest. She gives Luna and Nivviah a heart attack every time she breaks a rule.

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent?

She was a pretty strict parent to Isa and Phoebe in the sense that they had to be back home by sundown unless they had specifically a “mission”, but was laid-back in the sense that as long as they stayed smart and safe, they could pretty much do whatever they wanted.

3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule?

She was bedridden for a full day after she was shot in the back despite her protests, and now because of her suicide attempt, is forbidden from going into the infirmary alone and must be accompanied by an adult.

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking?

She does regret breaking her family’s rule of “everyone has to like your friend before they can come over” because she thought that she could trust her first girlfriend and ended up being stabbed in the back.

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

It shouldn’t matter that you’re lactose intolerant, you should be able to drink milk if you really want that milkshake. Also she hates that people still think that slavery’s an alright thing to do.

S: Streets

1. are they street-smart?

Yes. As she was a short, physically weak girl growing up on the streets, Val never was able to play hard, but instead play smart. Steal this, Valerie. Trick this person Valerie. Sneak into this place, Valerie. She had to stay two steps ahead of everyone else just to get a foothold in society.

2. would they give money to someone on the streets?

She never got enough money on Biomia to give it to those begging. And there wasn’t any people on the streets on Biomia. People either had apartments or the orphans lived outside the city limits, usually in the slums outside or in Val’s case, the abandoned amusement park.

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets?

Just once, when she was twelve. She was trying to sneak into a hospital to get some medicine for a sick Isa and a guard (known to the orphans on Biomia as a Child Snatcher since they take children on the streets and send them to orphanages) tried to apprehend her. She was able to get away, but not before he got a few good punches in, and she got a well aimed elbow to the temple.

4. has anything happened to them on the streets?

She and Isa were once cornered by a couple of Biomian military agents for the Council of Nine, but for some reason was able to escape, despite them being the only ones there. Whenever she tries to think about it, she just knows that eventually their attention was drawn elsewhere.

5. are they cautious when out?

Val straddles the line between “I don’t care if I die” and “What if I die?” On Biomia she definitely kept an eye and ear out for everything, but now she keeps an eye out just enough that her friends aren’t attacked.

T: Truth

1. are they honest?

Val and Luna are tied for keeping the most secrets. Unless you take special care to get her to trust you completely, there will always be something about her life kept secret.

2. can they tell if someone is lying?

She can tell if someone’s lying to her but finds it difficult to actually pull out the truth. She usually lets subjects drop if she thinks they’re lying and don’t want to talk about it.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying?

She’s gotten lying down pat. Girl’s got a +7 to deception. She’s also lied to people’s faces (like in-game) and hasn’t been called out on it yet.

4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about?

No, she’s actually a little more open than she wants. If she could take her past and the trauma’s she’s faced to the grave, she absolutely would.

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

She once told her ex-girlfriend about her work and then it spread to the entire Biomian government.

U: Underdog

1. have they been bullied?

She’s been verbally roughed up a bit by guards at different establishments, but she always managed to run away before it got worse than that.

2. have they bullied anyone?

She playfully bullies Ciri, Tam, and Castor just because they know that it’s all in good fun and because she knows that they can take it.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully?

Thankfully no, mostly because no one cared enough about her family to attack them.

4. have they ever been doubted?

She was an orphaned who lived in an abandoned roller coaster. No one really expected Val would be as smart as she was.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

When Luna heard about a seventeen year old genius in Biomia, she expected someone strong, self confident, and mature, not a short, insecure child with a death wish the size of Earth.

V: Vomit

1. do they vomit often?

No, she’s seen enough stuff in the vents to keep her food down.

2. do they get lots of stomach aches?

She used to, but got so used to things in the vents that she has a stomach of steel now.

3. are they good at comforting someone ill?

She’s pretty good. Isa got sick a lot as a kid and would always try to make sure she was as comfortable as could be. She would forego all the blanket space so Isa could have most of it, and tried to get food for her.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes?

Just being held and having her head pat.

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

She hiccups, but mostly she just cries. She doesn’t like vomit in the slightest. It brings back to many memories.

W: Water

1. do they drink enough water?

Unless someone puts a glass of water in front of her (which usually is Ravi, Crumb because they’re the doctors or B3rT13 because he cares about his human and humans need water to live) she will not drink water.

2. have they learned to swim?

Nivviah and Luna taught her to swim when she joined the Freedom Vessel, after she was able to do things on her own.

3. do they like to swim?

She likes floating in the pool more than actively swimming, but she really likes doing handstands or cannonballs in the pool.

4. can they dive?

She can only do it from kneeling position, but once she tried from standing and landed in a belly flop.

5. can they swim without holding their nose?

Yeah. It took a long time for her to learn how to do it without getting water up her nose, but she’s fine now.

X: Xylophone

1. what is their favorite genre of music?

The one thing she can say she likes about Biomia is their music, and really loves jazz music, especially the ones that played at the speakeasies she would sneak into.

2. do they have a favorite song?

‘Young and Beautiful’ by Lana Del Rey

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

She has and will always be gay for Ella Fitzgerald.

4. can they sing well?

She doesn’t have the best voice, but she can sing decently. It was Isa who was the star of the family. She sang and danced on street corners while Val and Phoebe pick-pocketed.

5. can they rap?

She’s actually a pretty decent rapper and can keep up with most beats.

Y: You

1. how old were you when you created them?

I believe 17. My powerpoint for her novel is dated back to 2015.

2. what inspired you to create them?

I was writing a novel about lesbian space pirates that never got finished, and Val was one of the main characters.

3. were they different when they were first created?

Definitely. I accidentally gave her Phoebe’s personality when I made her a campaign character as novel Val is much more controlled, shy, and misunderstood (and went by Valerie). But I love both of them the way they are. It was sort of explained why Val now acts more like how Phoebe did, but it will be explained more in depth later.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters?

She and Luna are my two favorite npcs of the campaign. I love all the love interests, don’t get me wrong, but Val owns my entire fucking heart.

5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

As a STEM major who feels the imposter syndrome very bad, I love that Val is a proud engineering girl who never feels like she’s not as good as she is. What gives her anxiety about her work is not whether she’s not good enough, it’s the unintended side effects of her invention. Also she’s chubby and gay.

Z: Zebra

1. what’s their favorite animal?

Platypuses. They just look like they’re not meant to exist and honestly, big mood.

2. do they like animals?

She has a hard time connecting to living things (both human and animal) and prefers to work with robots, but she thinks they’re cute.

3. cats or dogs?

Dogs. She’s afraid of bigger dogs, but she likes medium sized ones or the small ones.

4. what’s their dream pet?

She once saw a Tasmanian Tiger in one of the free zoos on Biomia and thought it was one of the coolest animals she’s ever seen. But a couple years later she went back and it was gone and hasn’t seen it since.

5. do they have any pets at the moment?

Technically Phoebe is a pet, but she prefers to think of the little bot as her daughter. And then B3rT13 is her asshole son.

[freakflagbyiana]

Pride & Coming out

It’s Pride month, and I’ve been listening to the coming out stories of people I know and admire. I’ve also been thinking a lot about my friends who either aren’t out or are out but their family doesn’t quite accept them... They have an “understanding” that they don’t talk about it. So here’s my coming out story, a queer memoir in 3 acts: Childhood, Puberty, and Adulthood.

Childhood

When I was a kid, I was called a Tomboy. It’s not even entirely accurate; I played with Barbies and makeup and costumes. I just also enjoyed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and video games and comic books and getting dirty. And since this was the '80s, having an androgynous haircuts wasn't an indicator of gender or sexuality one way or another, it was simply the fashion.

Here’s a fun fact: My dad potty trained me, so I first attempted to pee standing up. He quickly realized he had to demonstrate sitting down if he was going to be the one teaching me. My idea of femininity - instilled in me by my mother - was also rather androgynous or 'tomboy'. Because she had always been skinny and flat chested, I grew up naturally assuming I’d be the same. I came from mom so I’ll look like mom when I grow up, right?

I remember hating Easter. It was the only time mom made me wear a big frilly dress for the pictures we'd send to Grandma. Pictures which inevitably involved me sitting on the side of the highway in a field of bluebonnets. In these photos, I am wearing a hot, unbreathable dress with scratchy tulle to make it 'poofy', sitting in a field (probably next to some fire ants), breathing in fumes of the highway with the afternoon sun burning my retinas, and trying not to squint too much for the picture. I remember thinking, “Boys don’t have to deal with this crap” (To this day, I still take bluebonnet pictures in the shade.)

I remember liking pink because, “I’m a girl, I’m supposed to like pink. Barbie’s favorite color is pink, so if I like Barbie, I like pink.” Gender Programming in action, folks! Eventually I rebelled against this gender standard, and, to this day, I’m still allergic to pink. Later I felt vindicated when I figured out how olive-yellow my skin tone was and thus how pink will always make me look sick. But I think it will always make me feel sick, too, because it was forced on me so heavily as a child. Forced by society, that is, it wasn’t my mom’s fault. I remember not knowing quite what was going on with David Bowie in Labyrinth but being really into it. {see previous blog on the subject} My parents watched a lot of MTV in the '80s, which explains most of my music and aesthetic tastes. But, more importantly, as a kid who would not understand the negative sides of the decade - the war on drugs, the AIDS epidemic, the Yuppies - until much later, the '80s were a magical time for a baby queer. Grace Jones was a strong masculine woman of color; and Nick Rhodes made it okay for “straight” men to have what I still call the gayest pink wedding I’ve ever seen. I could go on about my influences from this decade but the points that are relevant right now are these: Androgyny was fashionable, and Genderqueer was fashionable. In so many ways, the society of my early childhood, the '80s and early '90s, accepted all this stuff far better than that of my pre-teen and teenage years, the later '90s and '00s. At the time when I was affected most by society’s views on sexuality and gender identity, the culture was shifting, becoming less fluid... More into dividing by categories and labels and, to some, moralities. In my childhood, my mother was a department store makeup artist. This is a key ingredient in the Life Story of Iana. She was a department store makeup artist for Clinique, but she really wanted to be a special effects makeup artist for the movies ... like back in the days before CGI became the most efficient option, when they still hired artisans to create prosthetic movie monsters. (RIP the glory days of prosthetic SFX.) This is why I grew up watching horror movies and wasn’t scared by the scary stuff. She always explained to me how they made the zombies look dead, or blood look real, or those amazing transformations in American Werewolf in London & Thriller. Horror education aside, she also notably introduced me to makeup, brought home by her from work for me to play with. This was her most glorious, single-mom, life-hack moment: Tell child they can play with makeup and get them set up in the dry bath tub, allow them to draw on themselves and on the walls (because it’s only tile and it’s only makeup) while you sneak in a nap on the fuzzy bathmat floor. Dangle arm over bathtub so that the child knows you’re still there. When they are done, surprise! it’s bath-time, and you’re already trapped in the tub, kid! ... Frankly, it was a true stroke of genius. When people tell me “you’re so good at makeup,” it's like, of course I am! It was one of my first toys, and I’ve been playing with it ever since. You'd be, too, if you’d been playing with it as long as you can remember. It’s simply a matter of practice: do a thing 1000 times, and you’re a master, right?

Puberty

I grew up in Cuernavaca, the “affordable” hippie area of Westlake at the time. Cuernavaca is a weird little microcosm all on it’s own... I once referred to it as “The Twin Peaks of Westlake” and I stand by that statement. I attended West Ridge Middle School from 1996 to 1999. Although I was closer to my mom, I had to live with my dad in order to go to this “better” school. All the people I'm still close to from that time were kids from my neighborhood. They weren’t completely spoiled jerks, and most were probably a little weird like me. I had a beautiful best friend named Jane. I’m using her name because I want her to know if she ever reads this. Her parents were hippies while mine were weird, artist nerds into cyberpunk and technology, and we were from opposite worlds in many ways. But both of us, along with our other close friends Chelsea and Saira, were great at art. We were like an antisocial fantasy art coven who didn’t want to get involved in school politics ... we would keep to ourselves and draw when we were supposed to be taking notes, draw during lunch, and hang out after school to draw and listen to music. We hang around after class to talk to our favorite art teacher, Ms. Mouer, who always would say, “You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever!” (That’s not relevant to the story; it’s just a shoutout incase she reads this, too.) I remember this time was when Labyrinth was out of print, and I was the only girl in the neighborhood who had a VHS copy, taped off of HBO. My girlfriends would frequently come over to watch it, although once it got re-released on DVD, my house was suddenly less popular. It was in this environment that I was able to explore different aspects of my aesthetic. In hindsight, if I had been this age nowadays, I’d describe myself as non binary or genderqueer (not the same thing, but I’m not sure which I’d have used then). But at the time, I looked like an outcast no matter what; people could make their own assumptions, and I certainly wasn’t going to defend myself to anyone judging. The first Bowie album I acquired (read "stole from mom") around then was the Ryko edition of Scary Monsters - one of my favorite David Bowie songs still is Teenage Wildlife. This part always brings a tear to my eye. I think most teens can relate to this because most of us were “others” in some form: You'll take me aside, and say "Well, David, what shall I do? They wait for me in the hallway" I'll say "Don't ask me, I don't know any hallways" But they move in numbers and they've got me in a corner I feel like a group of one, no-no They can't do this to me I'm not some piece  of teenage wildlife I had developed an androgynous, genderfluid aesthetic, but, problematically, I did not have an androgynous body. I did not develop into a lanky, Twiggy-esque waif like my mother. I developed hips and breasts so suddenly that I had bright red stretch marks, everywhere. To this day, my breasts were never as big as they were then. I’m assuming it has something to do with still having “baby fat” and all the new hormones working overtime, and also my diet being sugar/dairy heavy (fatter = curvier). Later, in my 20s, I was relieved they got smaller as I cut HFCS out of my diet. In any case, sudden curves meant that I had to drop out of gymnastics ... it’s very difficult to safely throw your center of gravity around when your center of gravity is extra jiggly and changing daily.

I didn’t know how to dress for my body type. At the time when I just wanted to wear oversized band tees, the only bras I could use were underwire ... it would be years before I discovered the glory of sports bras, much less breast binders. So I wore oversized band t-shirts with underwire bras, paired with pants that never fit quite right (they still don’t) or full skirts. On top of wearing what most often resembled a giant tent, I had started cutting and coloring my own hair, so it changed regularly and got shorter. Sidecuts, mowhawks, pixie cuts, and a fully shaved head at 14 years old. From the outside looking in, you could definitely tell I was either “gender confused” or “on my way to becoming a butch lesbian” to use the language of the times; non-binary was not yet a label, especially not a respected one. My room was covered in posters of comic book women (mainly the characters from The Sandman), male rock stars (mainly Robert Smith and Keith Flint), and LOTS of pictures of Brandon Lee from The Crow, with whom I have been obsessed since age 9.

One day, mom told me about a “joke” she made to my father; taking one look at my room covered in pictures of Brandon Lee, she said to him, “At least we know she’s heterosexual” It was the first time I wanted to speak up, to argue about it with someone. I didn’t care if people outside my family assumed one way or another, but I was so angry that my mom just jumped to a conclusion like that. My own mother - who enjoyed short hair and androgynous fashion, who herself had been “a lesbian in college.” She was the one that taught me that gender and sexuality were a fluid spectrum to begin with. I didn’t argue with her though; I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, I just knew she was wrong. I grew up watching The X-Files from day one - trading her love of David Duchovny for a deep interest with whatever Gillian Anderson was doing onscreen. Mom also took me to see The Fifth Element when it came out, and I have been in love with Milla Jovovich ever since. To this day, I have bonded with many of my male friends over these two female crushes. At this point in my life, I didn’t know if I was gay or bisexual. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with my cisgender female identity, or if I was something else. I just knew she was totally wrong. In this time also, I would say that Jane was my best friend. She was beautiful and looked exactly like Claire Danes in Stardust, which is crazy to me now, because she and I had been obsessed with Neil Gaiman’s works long before any movies and Stardust was always one of her favorites. It's impossible for me to watch the movie now without thinking of her.

So I was close to my best friend because we were weird kids. So I thought she was beautiful because she objectively was. So what? Was I gay for my best friend? Probably a bit but no more than is normal to be gay for your best friend. ... I mean, I think even heterosexual, same-sex besties should be a little gay for each other. That’s how close friendships work! This is a person you love so much that you have their back in 99% of situations, you would bury a body with, etc. You should think they’re attractive even if you don’t want to sleep with them yourself, you should enjoy their company often even if you don’t want to marry them yourself, you should love them enough that it doesn’t matter if people accuse you of being gay for them. Platonic love is still love, so even if that person is gay and you’re not, it doesn’t mean their love is romantic. What I’m building up to, dear audience, is the other shoe dropping. Jane’s “hippie” father didn’t like me. He was in the National Guard and had just come back from dealing with the aftermath of the war in Bosnia and living in Russia for a while. After Russia he was different; he bought Jane very sexy (for a fifteen-year-old), form-fitting dresses, dressed her up like a Barbie and became more strict at home. I remember her finding it distressing, but she liked fashion, so it seemed like the typical patriarchal tradeoff that my gender faces: If you want to have shiny objects bought for you, you have to obey the breadwinning man of the house. And then, in the midst of that, here came I, parading around their house with my strong sense of self, thanks to my '80s-influenced, genderfluid upbringing. How dare I waltz in there and preach the word of David Bowie to his little Stepford daughter? I, on the other hand, just knew that they were hippies, they were supposed to be into peace, love, unity; acceptance of other, races, cultures, and “free love.” I was just a kid, how was I supposed to realize her father was so threatened by my very presence in his daughter’s life? It was so long ago that I don’t quite remember if he accused me of being gay to my face, or if Jane relayed the questions he asked her about me when I wasn’t there. But I vividly remember uncomfortable dinners, where vague personal questions that would be downright unacceptable to ask a child today were posed to me. When I asked my mother what to do, she wrote Jane's father off as “an asshole,” because she was familiar with the type of man he was. She told me to just stop going over there. But then how was I supposed to hang out with my best friend? Well, in truth, after that I didn’t really. She would have to make the effort to hang out with me at mine, or I’d just see her at school. But in truth, she totally checked out of the friendship after that. She put her head down and concentrated on getting good grades in school like she was serving a sentence in jail. I knew she had always wanted to make costumes, but after that time, she suddenly needed to get better grades as her father wanted her to become a lawyer or something related. (Eventually, she ended up making costumes after all) In April of 1999, right before I graduated from 8th grade, something happened that would change my life - and the country - forever: the Columbine school shooting. At the time, the only story we were told was that the shooters were goths, and they shot up the school because they were being bullied by jocks. (We now know that it was the other way around, the shooters were also the bullies.) And here I was, a baby goth and a genderqueer “lesbian” in a school full of rich, preppy jocks. The media perpetuated the “us vs them” situation, magnifying the underlying misconceptions and misjudgment. To be honest, I probably would not have gone to Westlake high school in any case, but Columbine sealed the deal. My mom and I loved watching Heathers, and I knew a similar environment awaited me at Westlake. Fortunately, it was around this time that I became acquainted with another Cuernavaca kid who was in the grade above me, Maria Russo. She was out as a lesbian or bisexual (I don’t remember which exactly as they were essentially the same thing in that environment) and was the only other goth girl in school. She wore ripped fishnets and dog collars and was obsessed with both Rocky Horror Picture Show and mermaids. She told me she wasn't going to Westlake either and that I should join her at this cool, hippie high school she found, The Griffin School. So even though I was only 14, I told my parents I was not going to go to arguably the best public school in the city, and that instead they were going to work together to send me to this weird, small private school for artsy kids. I was always a good student, except for middle school and I blame that on everyone being more concerned about social status than actually learning anything. That’s the irony of privilege, nobody appreciated the educational resources they had they just cared whether or not my clothes were from the Gap. I sold my parents on sending me to Griffin because of my grades suffering, the fact that my best friend and I had drifted apart, and then Columbine making the world more dangerous for goth kids really sealed the deal... The backlash meant that my safety was more severely threatened by the clothes I put on everyday, which I had been wearing for years already. I attended Griffin for all four years of high school and had one of the rarest experiences for a teen - I thoroughly enjoyed every year of high school. And it wasn’t because I was popular and peaked in high school either. I felt my sense of self was respected, my sexuality or gender identity wasn’t a concern to the staff or to the other parents. Also, I made excellent grades. I have since reconnected with several of my middle school friends that attended different high schools. But I never saw or spoke to Jane again.

Adulthood

As an adult, I identify as Bisexual. There is a myth that bisexuality excludes being attracted to people of non-binary orientation because you are attracted to "males OR females." The way I see it, the "bi" in bisexual refers to both ends of sexuality as a spectrum between heterosexual relationships and homosexual relationships. The stuff in between is undefined but included.

Many of the people who would have been considered Bisexual in the '90s identify as Pansexual today. That’s fine, but I’m not going to do that. I’ve considered myself bisexual since puberty; I don’t see the point in rebranding my sexuality now when I know what I mean by it, and that’s all that matters. But I think the reason Bisexuality split off into Pansexuality is that Bisexual is still a four letter word in the gay community. It’s better than it used to be, but there’s still this feeling that we’re not gay enough.

I once talked to a Pansexual who said she has been attracted to all kinds of things, including trees. And I thought, first, "that’s very interesting," and second, "I definitely don’t identify as that." This makes it hard to be a loud and proud bisexual; I don’t hide it, but I’ve kept it private for a reason. In the past, when a lesbian I had just met (at a party) asked me about my sexuality and I said I was bi. She then interrogated me about my gay experiences in a way that made me very uncomfortable. I finally interrupted her by shouting - “I don’t have to tell you anything!” - I didn’t know her, and it was none of her business. I got defensive because it took me by surprise, both, I suppose, because I expected more from another member of the queer community, and because it triggered memories of those uncomfortable dinners with Jane’s father. But the great thing about being an adult is that peer pressure isn’t real. No one can actually force you do anything you don’t want to do or tell them anything you don’t want to share simply by “putting pressure” on you to do their will. So I stick to the Bisexual label, partially out of resentment. I had to fight so hard to find this identity; I changed schools and lost one of my closest friends over it. I’m not going to stop being bisexual just because there are some mean girls in the gay community. And, in the end, I will always defend use of the term Bisexual: it was good enough for David Bowie, and he was a fucking Genderqueer alien. If the King/Queen of Genderqueer aliens Hermself feels included by this term, why wouldn’t I? Weirdness is a part of me right down to my sexuality and gender identity. I will always be attracted to the “others” of the world. In the end, I don’t belong in the gay clubs because I don’t like dancing to Beyonce, not because I’m not gay enough.

Although we’ve come a long way, people are still surprised if I mention that I’m not straight. Not every member of the queer community is an effeminate boy or a butch girl. Just because I look comfortable as a cisgender female doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle with my gender identity my entire childhood. I went to see Eddie Izzard do his standup act the other night, the first time since I’d seen him live in 2003. Towards the end he got heckled with something simultaneously misogynist and homophobic - “SHOW US YOUR TITS!” - and audible cringe swept over the audience as we began to boo. I thought, “WOW, He’s been out since the '80s, he’s so established and respected and famous now, and he still can’t get away from this stuff.” You never get away from it, there will always be a problem for someone. All you can hope for is a bigger, better group of people around you to boo on your behalf. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “wait this is your coming out story, when do you come out to your parents?” The truth is I didn’t. This blog entry, coming out to the general public, is the most coming out I’ve ever done. I didn’t have real relationships when I was in school, and I got married to a bisexual boy when I was 19, so it never came up. At the time, we were openly bisexual to each other but neither of us really had “the conversation” with our parents. He didn’t because they were British and, although I have no doubt they would have accepted him, Brits just didn’t talk about that stuff out loud. I used to think of him as choosing to be repressed, choosing to remain in the closet, but it’s only recently that I’ve realized that would mean I chose the same thing. I didn’t have “the conversation” with my parents because A) I wasn’t having relations under their roof either way; B) my “woke” mom had already assumed wrong, and I wasn’t close to my dad; and C) I felt it was none of their business. By the time I confirmed my sexuality, I was an adult, and they had no say in the matter anyway. That’s the million dollar question - if you know your parents accept and love you either way, do you need to have a conversation about it? Are you still in the closet even if you make no attempts to hide your sexuality or gender identity? Many of my clients are various degrees of queer and trans, going through their own complex struggles with all the emotional dust that Pride month kicks up. For example, those we have lost. ... I am again reminded of the recent void left behind by an older gay friend, the closest I had to a brother; we lost him in December to suicide shortly after he was diagnosed with advanced HIV. He was in his 40s and there appeared to be some form of denial coming from his family. Even though he was a fully grown adult, it seemed like he chose suicide over living as a “sick” person and having to address the facts with his family. Pride isn’t just about rainbow outfits and drag shows. Pride in the queer community is essential to survival. Lots of statistics prove this out in different ways; here’s just two of them: “LGB youth seriously contemplate suicide at almost three times the rate of heterosexual youth." And "LGB youth are almost five times as likely to have attempted suicide compared to heterosexual youth.” [source: The Trevor Project] If is that common as a teenager, do you think that changes when you grow up into a gay adult? Not necessarily. But I’m not going to end on a sad note. I have a lot of happy memories associated with Pride, too. My favorite part of living in Chicago in my early 20s was being a block away from Boystown, the gayberhood. The parade would come down our street, Broadway, off Belmont. For a few glorious hours the street was absolutely covered in rainbow confetti and glitter. Then as everyone moved indoors to drink and party, because Chicago is a proper city, the street sweepers would drive by and clean up all the litter like nothing ever happened. Below are some pictures from Chicago Pride 2005. That year was the first and only time I’ve ever seen RuPaul perform, way before Drag Race, when Supermodel was still his top hit. The Grand Marshal was Wilson Cruz, and, as a '90s latchkey kid who watched reruns of My So-Called Life with some of TV's first out gay teens, that was very exciting! (CW: this picture of the proud gay WWII vets makes me cry every time)

In the process of writing this blog, a client who came out to me as non-binary. It’s always exciting for my shop to be considered a safe space for people to come out before they deal with the complications of telling family, if they even tell their family. We related on a lot of the same levels. Being outright gay is difficult, being outright trans is difficult. ... But being nonbinary/bisexual can be difficult in a different way; it’s like flying under the radar, sometimes even to yourself. You’re not denying that part of you is 'other', but you know you’re not 'other enough' to be Grand Marshal of the Pride Parade. Especially for folks of my generation who grew up with the fashionable androgyny of the '80s/'90s. Then when you hit puberty and struggle with having a very feminine or masculine skewing body, it’s easy enough to fall back into binary fashion since those are the only clothes that are made to fit your body. This is one of the reasons there’s so many older people discovering this stuff about themselves now. Now we finally have language for the nuances of gender identity, so we’re all able to talk about it together. Strangely enough, these concepts are as old as mankind, the language is only new to the western culture. One of my favorite things to read about is the five gender system of Native American cultures: men, women, trans men, trans women, and nonbinary are all mentioned. {see this super-rad article here} In the end, though, when people ask me about my pronouns, I still don’t know what to say. I'll get that feeling like I'm taking a test I haven’t studied for. I’m still wired to be unconcerned with what people think of me, what they call me, but I’ll try to answer to the best of my understanding. I don’t feel entirely comfortable being a female or dressing femme. But I damn well love costumes, and I got comfortable with makeup early on in my childhood. So when people compliment my feminine aesthetics, I see it as being good at drag. Like high femme feels more like drag than when when I dress in androgynous or boyish looks. High femme is a lot of work but simultaneously (relatively) easy because I understand the programming I’ve been receiving since I was a little girl. Androgyny is easier and more comfortable for my brain but also more difficult to execute given the body I have and the way they make clothes for it. (I’m getting better though, I just got a binder by gc2b which I’m eagerly awaiting in the mail any day now!) Anyway, I’m comfortable with “she” as my pronoun - in the same way RuPaul is called “she” when in drag, even though he’s “he” when he’s just Charles, right? It’s like the same way I don’t care when someone gets my name wrong the first time they try to pronounce it. ... I don’t care what you call me, just as long as you see me. 20 years later and I’m still friends with Maria, who many of you will know as the mermaid Co-Owner of Cute Nail Studio - otherwise known as the Gayest Nail Studio in the city, state, possibly the country. I hope she knows how proud I am of her and how eternally grateful I will forever be for getting me out of Westlake. It was like she tossed me a big gay lifesaver when I needed it most. In the end I think the key is not being afraid, especially now, to talk about those things. Especially during Pride when so many different flavors of queer (and non-) come together to celebrate. Don't be afraid to talk about your own pathway, the unsureness you still might have, and the childhood experiences that made you realize you were born just a little weird. Stick together so that you don't feel isolated and don't settle for feeling like a group of one. REACH OUT to you brothers and sisters and siblings of no discernible gender and tell them you love them. Love people as an act of defiance. Walk tall with your strong sense of self.