#i love misgendering myself for meme content

[unavailableapple]

for that radfem ask meme thingy u reblogged, number 1, 3, 4, and 8 ^_^

(also just wanna say I love ur blog)

Thank you!!

I think I’ve already addressed 3? It should be in another post somewhere but you might have to scroll a bit, sorry about that :’) my blog is a tad cluttered. I need tags to separate things.

Anyway content warning because I’m going to be discussing sexual assault and harassment in all of these answers.

1 is leftist men. Haha oh wow I have a lot but I can’t even put all my thoughts into words. The funniest part about leftist men is that they’re all lying. Every single one. It takes at most three hang out sessions with a “feminist” leftist guy for him to start talking about how evil the Barbie movie is because it’s misandrist, how all his exes were fucking crazyyyy, and how he can’t stand radical feminists. Okay so you’re a misogynist like every other man? Wow how counter-culture!

Over the summer I became friends with a man (mistake number one) who had similar interests to me and I was very excited to be friends. I don’t have many friends with these specific interests because they’re very niche and very masculine. I was so happy to be friends with this guy who showed no romantic or sexual interest in me finally. Frankly it would’ve been weird if he did show those interests considering he’s 26 years old and I was 19 at the time, which is a hell of an age gap. Best part? He was a HUGE leftist. He campaigned for Kamala Harris and had a ton of stickers on his computer about reproductive rights and the like. So I thought he was safe (mistake number two). After hanging out for a few weeks he invited me back to his house to play with his dog. And I accepted (mistake number three). I don’t think I need to finish the story. 🤷‍♀️

4 is trans-identified males. I have a lot of stories. I think I’ve already talked about the time a man stole my cultural name because I wouldn’t have sex with him (yes this ACTUALLY happened). Here’s another story. When I was thirteen years old and identified as a heterosexual trans man (LOL) I joined a book group for transgender adults. I had lied to my parents so they would let me go. Anyway the only person who showed up was a trans-identified male in an adult dress that was bright pink and frilly. He repeatedly “misgendered” me (called me female and she/her). He took extreme delight in saying “us girls.” He repeatedly moved closer to me and touched my thigh. He asked me to come back to his apartment but I said my mom was waiting for me in the car (true). Keep in mind I was freshly 13 years old. He was in his mid forties and a teacher. This was SEVEN YEARS AGO.

I left and told my girlfriend at the time (who was also a trans man) said I was transphobic. She said if I didn’t want to be misgendered I should make more of an effort to ‘pass’ (I had to stop binding my chest because I was using tape and had injured myself pretty badly already). I said that I still called this man she/her pronouns despite him having a beard and my girlfriend said, “That isn’t the same. It’s harder for trans women to pass.”

I was thirteen years old. Goddamn.

8 is the ‘sex work’ industry. I think I’ve already talked about this but I used to be an underage cam girl when I was homeless (for the first time). I did other things as well but I was never an actual prostitute so I do not purport to have that experience. I engaged in this behavior between the ages of around 11-13 until I was able to return to my home.

Recently in class we were discussing the way that prostitution affects women in impoverished countries. I used the term “victim of prostitution” and was IMMEDIATELY “corrected” to the term sex worker! I replied, “As a previous underage quote-unquote sex worker, I find the term sex worker to be extremely capitalistic and dehumanizing so I’d prefer not to use it.” The SILENCE that came over the room, damn! I do not usually like to talk about my personal history with people I don’t know very well (actually…no one in my real life knows about my past with these things, not even my mother, because it feels so shameful and embarrassing). But that just came out of my mouth. They have not “corrected” me since.

[gift-of-prophecy]

[dadddybangtan]

You Can Tell Me

Yeonjun x Trans FTM Reader

Synopsis: Yeonjun’s best friend (reader) has to come out as trans.

Genre: fluff | lgbtq+ | oneshot

Content Warnings: unintentional misgendering, sensitive subject matter,

A.N.: instead of spending $200 per session to talk to a gender therapist about what i already know, i’m just going to write comforting oneshots with my ults. hopefully this comforts me and others in my position as well. again, refraining from using the term “y/n.”

Reader’s POV

It hurts to say, but it’s getting really hard to hang out with my best friend. Every joke starts with “girl” and every compliment ends in “queen.” It feels like he’s mocking me.

Only he doesn’t know that he is.

In his mind, he’s done nothing wrong. Every “girl” is a gunshot and every “queen” is a bullet wound I’ll have to heal myself from later. Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive. Or maybe it just hurts to hear my best friend refer to me this way.

“Girl, why’re you so sad,” He asks, pulling me out of my train of thought, “You love this movie.”

As much as I love the movie, I don’t feel comfortable.

“I’m just tired,” I lie, “I should start heading home anyways.”

“What? You never get tired this early.”

“Well, I do now.”

I don’t mean to snap. It’s getting to be too much to handle.

I stand up from the couch, but I feel Yeonjun’s hand grab my arm before I can walk out.

“What’s going on, girl?”

“Nothing.” I mumble as I try to wiggle out of his hold.

“Come on, sis, you can tell me.”

I rip my arm from his hand in a fit of rage.

“I’m not your sis,” I shout, “I’m not your girl, I’m not queen, I’m just–.”

I cut myself off and plop back onto the couch. I close my eyes so I don’t have to see the hurt on Yeonjun’s face. He’s not used to me getting visibly or seriously angry. And despite his actions, he’s actually quite sensitive.

“Yeonjun,” I breathe out, “I- I don’t know how to tell you this.”

His silence scares me. In a weird way, I appreciate it. It gives me time to think. Think about how I’m going to permanently alter all of the memories he has of me. Think about how I may not have a best friend anymore if he doesn’t approve.

“I want you to know that I’m still me and nothing has changed.

“O-okay.”

“I’m a boy,” I say simply, “I’m transgender.”

“Oh–.”

“I don’t want you to see me differently, okay?”

He blinks in disbelief. His lips move, but no words come out.

“Please say something.”

“I don’t know what to say… Other than ‘I’m sorry.’”

“It’s oka-.”

“No, no. I know this is something really important and serious. And you probably didn’t wanna tell me like this.”

“Like what?”

“I misgendered you so much and you came out to me out of frustration. I feel like I made you come out to me when, maybe, you weren’t ready.”

It’s true. I would’ve rather told him like I told my brother; in a series of texts and internet memes. It wasn’t as serious as now. Coming out to Yeonjun felt like an attempt at survival. It was so intense. I can still feel my hands trembling.

“I was going to tell you eventually. I’ll admit it was hard because you always knew me as a girl. And I was scared of losing you.”

“I don’t love you because I see you- saw you- as a girl. You’re just a good person and I like being around you. Regardless of what gender you are.”

“You really mean that?” My voice cracks.

“Yeah.” he says with a warm smile.

I reach over and give him the biggest hug I’d ever given him. The tighter I squeeze, the less I feel like crying.

“You’re choking me.” He wheezes.

I pull away and laugh before playfully strangling him.

“Are you still too tired to watch the show?”

I roll my eyes.

“I guess I can watch one more episode.”

[pumpkins-s]

Year's not over yet! If you want to 14 15 24 25 27?

The year is over because I’m slow but fuck it here we go–

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

Uhhhh double-dealing here with “Of the Dead and the Wicked” and “Nothing Small.” My goals for this year were supposed to be to just work on Not As Simple, but life (and new ideas) happen. “Of the Dead and the Wicked” was written because my friends and I all got into Good Omens about the same time, and they fell in love with the AU idea. “Nothing Small” was…incredibly spontaneous. I wrote the first chapter in two days haha…

15. something you learned this year

This is probably a weird answer but it is related to fanfic–

Fanfiction? Genuinely teaches you solid writing skills on so many levels–characterization, pacing, endurance, grammar, tricks with perspective–that many people otherwise lack. It’s amazing what it can do for you, and how much you realize that difference once you get outside the world of fanfiction.

Context? I started my MFA in Creative Writing this year. I won’t specify where but let’s just stay it’s a prestigious program–not top five maybe, but…very good. Very competitive. Not cheap. Not easy to get into. 

And dear God…some of my classmates cannot write. They cannot write the way fanfiction writers can. They do not have the same stamina for long projects. They do not have the same depth of imagination. They do not have the same…well, they don’t have the same balls I’ve seen on some of the best of fanfiction writers to take the absolutely batshit and make it incredible. They are not willing to go as deep, or as hard, or as ridiculous (and no, this is not a sex joke, but I heard plenty whenever I mentioned fanfic). They do not, to quote my favorite meme when discussing creative writing in academia, have the range.

I have survived a semester of shocking grammar and spelling, sexist writing, and a godawful lack of self-awareness about what they are putting out into the world, what it says, and what it looks like. I have received truly, staggeringly unhelpful feedback–I have sat through class sessions of classmates misgendering the main character of my novel, telling me my two main characters need to fuck, and that the main problem of my story is that my nonbinary protagonist doesn’t seem “nonbinary enough” (this said by cis people to me, an openly NB person), when I’d made it clear my concern with that story was how to write a science fiction cop novel that can criticize cop culture and discuss police brutality while also indulging in the age-old drama of the detective story and without overstepping my bounds as someone who has been lucky enough in this life not to directly experience police violence myself. 

There are amazing people in my program, too. Incredibly talented people. But there’s also so many that I cannot believe got in here. In short? I get laughed at a lot when I loudly declare I write fanfic, but fanfic could have done a lot to give these writers some very necessary practice and feedback. And, perhaps, a little more reflection on what they’re writing, why, and what it’s accomplishing. 

24. favorite fic you read this year

I sadly cannot confess to the first fic that came to mind for this because it was a crack fic and I will…never live it down. 

Instead, let me offer to you the Nanny Knows Best series for Good Omens. Which broke my heart 10 times over and I pray daily that the sequel fic will resume updates (they also stopped updating in August, like when I stopped updating “Of The Dead and the Wicked” so perhaps…this is my penance…Nanny will not return until Lilith does??)

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Sure as the Setting Sun, a BNHA/Mob Psycho crossover (yes I know what that sounds like but Work with me here), blew my fucking mind. It’s basically about Mob joining UA and trying to aggressively Pacifist his was through hero school while All Might interrogates quirkless and unlicensed hero Reigen in the background. It’s fucking glorious and I look forward to every update. 

27. favorite fanfic author of the year

Honestly I’m bad at tracking authors (pitiful…pitiful…I know) and I could scrounge up the like…6 dabihawks authors who’s pages I keep accidentally returning to but I’m bad at names so. I will instead give my customary finger-guns to @queenangst who continues to turn out amazing content even if I run out of time to read as much as I should like. And also because she wrote this ask meme so it’s Funny. 

[queenburd]

you are good and you make me better

okay. few things.

1) i had a shitty terrible day at work and I needed to get it out of my system

2) i’m warming myself up for fic writing for summer again

two birds one stone. this is very raw with very little major changes from the first draft.

This fic includes discussions of misgendering and brief casual nudity with no descriptions. Queenie uses they pronouns this entire fic. It is important to note that they still use she pronouns and I’ll still use she/her for Queenie but Queenie is NB and it matters on a day to day basis for them.

anyway. housemates.

|.|.|.|

you are good and you make me better

Kass gets the text around six in the evening, as he is at the corner store purchasing a pack of cigarettes along with a couple candy bars. He flicks his phone open, squints at the screen, and then shoves it back into his pocket. Almost as an afterthought, Kass tosses a snickers bar onto the pile, then another. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, but he ignores it.

The house is dark when he gets back, though through the kitchen window and over the fence he can see the glint of a pair of perfect circles, under the silhouette of a black lightning bolt. The lightning bolt gives a little bob, and a bright screen waves at him. He flips it off absentmindedly as he pops open the window to get the summer air in.

“Why won't you answer my messages,” Dib hisses. “It's urgent!!”

“They can't hear you, mothboy. What am I supposed to say anyhow? Gee, thanks for the heads up? I don't actually need constant updates on the situation, thank-you-very-much.”

Kass is.... not very good at grateful, he'll own up to that much. Still, he sighs. “Go inside, I'll take care of it.”

“You better. It's never good when she gets this mad.”

“They.”

“Right. They. Sorry.”

“You'll get it.”

The lightning bolt pops back under the fence, out of sight. Kass rolls his eyes and climbs the stairs. The light is on in May's room, but their door is closed. He knocks twice, then enters.

“Bird, you scared the neighbors. I'm all for that.”

“ffmk mmff mm dm.”

“Yes, well, I don't speak pillow talk, as much as you wish I did.”

The lump on the bed cover turns its head towards him with thin eyes. “Fuck off and die.”

He can't help himself. He snorts. The little thing that looks back at him looks like hell—their hair, cut close to their scalp, is mussed on top, an effect of fingers being run through it, pulling at it. They are still in their work clothes, which means they're still in their binder.

May's eyes look bad. Not red, not like crying, but strained like the brow has been furrowed all day.

Kass approaches with more care than most people would know to recognize. Despite the miasma of rage they are radiating, he's undaunted, sitting on the edge of their bed frame, not touching them. He sets one of the snickers bars on the mattress, and slides it next to their head.

“You're not you when you're hungry.”

“Fuck off and die!!!” They snap again. He very nearly winces, grimacing a bit.

“Your vocabulary certainly is limited tonight.”

Credit where credit's due—Dib has every right to be worried. It's rare that May gets this angry, this sick of the human race. It can't be easy, working a job where you see the worst in people most of the time, because they consider you less than human. He doesn't envy them in the slightest.

Quietly, Kass pulls the corner store receipt out of his pocket and offers it to them. He watches as they begin to meticulously shred it, watches the tension in their knuckles and the disjointedness of their movements.

“Did you drink anything yet?”

They seem to prefer to ignore him. That's a no.

Slowly, Kass lowers himself into a crouch beside the bed. He watches their face, trying to meet their eyes. They look something terrible. As if not to startle a small creature (and isn't that what they are?) his hand raises, and he sets it on theirs. They try to pull back, halfheartedly.

“Eat something.”

Their jaw tenses up. He stands and leaves the room, but it's not long until he returns with a tall glass of water. They haven't sat up in that time, but they are nibbling on the snickers bar quietly, curled in tight on themself.

“Up,” he says, and with strained motions they sit up, taking the glass from him and downing half the contents loudly. When they hand it back, he sets it on the desk and kneels in front of them to begin unbuttoning their shirt. They don't argue it, letting him push the stiff fabric back off their shoulders. There's a stiffness to them, like they've forgotten how to relax their shoulders and spine. He pushes the calloused pads of his fingers into the curve where their neck meets their scalp. They close their eyes.

“Helping?” he asks simply. They shrug, and raise their arms obediently as he grabs the hem of their binder and pulls it up over their head. Partial nudity means little to them these days, especially considering the weird fluid nature of their relationship. He slides their pajama top over their head and they slowly do the rest.

-

May is a complicated person. They love humans. They believe in the potential of humans so strongly. They think humans aren't inherently bad, they've just been trained to look out only for themself.

And then, they just, crack. Sometimes all that hope leaves them, and they don't seem like May anymore. They seem more like--

well. More like Kass.

He doesn't want them to be like him. He doesn't want them to think like him, to think humans are a poison and worthless. So when their eyes go all steely and they seem more less like a person and more like a deity, Kass worries.

Hell, there was one incident where May looked straight at him and told him, maybe he was right. Maybe humans weren't worth saving. He couldn't describe how shaken he was at that. It had reverberated through his core, made him realize that he couldn't just mouth off as he liked. For once in Kass's pathetic, angry life, people were actually listening to the words coming out of his mouth.

That situation had ended in tears on their part, which isn't surprising. Most things make May cry, they're a tender thing.

He's a bit more careful now. He's careful with his words, and he watches them more closely for the signs. He's become proficient enough at it, enough that when Dib sees May's breakdowns across the street he's quick to alert Kass, to make Kass fix it.

Kass has never been particularly good at fixing things, but he knows May. So he knows what to do.

-

Their fingers are knotted in his shirt tightly, their face pressed into his collarbone. He pets their curls absentmindedly.

“I'm not a girl,” they nearly whimper, their lips twisted against his sternum in a grimace. “I'm not, I'm not, what the fuck am I doing wrong.”

It's best to just let them ride it out. Kass puffs out a breath over their head.

“Fuck, they don't pay me enough for me to bother being nice, why are humans so fucking entitled. You and your ugly baby can go burn in hell.”

“Do you want another candy bar?”

“Mmmgh. Yeah.”

He stays there for a while longer, while the tension in their body drains out of them. It's slow, because it's hard to take their mind off the subject, but they like it when he talks, so he talks. He talks about Dib's overt panic over nothing at all, he talks about a shitty meme he saw, he pulls out his phone and shows them dumb cat videos.

When did he get so dedicated to this? He doesn't know. He's not so sure why it matters to him. Maybe it's a stability thing; May seems usually so sure of their beliefs. Their casual optimism and ability to shrug things off is so much a norm that anything else feels like the world is skewed.

“Tired,” May finally mumbles. “Head hurts.”

Kass stretches, finally putting a small gap between them. “C'mon, crybaby,” he says pleasantly. “Let's get you some tea.”

“Okay.”

They trail after him like a lost puppy, down the stairs into the kitchen. When they sit, they pull their knees up onto the seat. He starts the kettle, and pops open the fridge to pluck out a cookie. May had made them a few days earlier, and sweets always help these moods. He hands it to them. May stares at the cookie with a distant look, before finally glancing up at him.

“Candy bars and cookies aren't food.”

Even as they speak, the cookie is halfway to their mouth for them to nibble at. Kass says nothing, preferring to lean back against the counter edge and smirk at them.

Moments like this, it really seems that May is perpetually frozen in a state of childhood. Not for naivety or immaturity, but for moments where they are curled up on themself, looking up at Kass with bright wide eyes over their knees, wearing clothing much too big for them. He's reminded that May stopped aging at nineteen, and, yes, there are features that aren't confined to being a child. They are small, so incredibly small, but compact, with broad shoulders and hips. Those aren't childlike.

They seem trapped in this strange in-between, like how they seem trapped between a human being and an ethereal “other”. Just real enough to be human, but far more idealized, like a sculpture.

Gay. The teapot whistles. He preps them a mug, and sets it in front of them. May leans over the mug, looking worn to the bone. Kass ruffles their hair.

“Thank you,” they mumble into the rim of the mug, tilting their head into his hand. “I love you.”

He doesn't say it back. It is not a natural thing for him to say, or even really understand. Instead, Kass scratches the parts of their scalp that he knows they like, and it's as close as he can get.

This—all of this—is as close as he can get to saying it. And that's okay. They understand.

They understand how he feels, and that's all that matters. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, or sees. It doesn't matter if he's never learned the language for this, it doesn't matter that he doesn't even know how to analyze his own feelings. This is all that matters:

That they are there for him, and he is there for them, and that will never change.

[margridarnauds]

whatever numbers from that lgbt+ ask meme u haven't already been asked?

1. What do you identify as and what are your pronouns?

~Tentatively~ bi (Not into dating dudes, but can appreciate them aesthetically); she/her. 

3. Have you experienced being misgendered? What happened and how did you overcome it?

I’ve not, thankfully. Having longish to medium length hair tends to mean that people ping me as a woman because for some reason we as a society decided to equate reproductive organs to dead skin cells. 

5. Describe what it was like coming out, what did you feel?I’ve talked before about how very laid back my mom was about it (Sometimes to extremes. Like...MOM. I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE ME, I APPRECIATE IT, BUT I DON’T NEED YOU REITERATING IT EVERY FIVE SECONDS. I KNO-) Still, it was genuinely good to have that weight off your shoulders. There’s always that moment of fear anyway, or where you’re worried that you’ll be told that you’ll change your mind. Coming out as an atheist was actually more stressful, tbh. 

6. If you’re out, how did your parents/guardians/friends react?

I don’t think I’ve ever REALLY gotten any blowback, it’s kind of like an “Oh.” I KNOW my aunt thinks it’s a phase, I have no idea how she’d deal with me actually DATING someone, especially since she’s hanging with a very conservative crowd at church and she’s a chameleon. 

10. What does makeup mean to you? Do you wear any?

For me, makeup is a personal choice, albeit one that IS often forced on women by either society or by their own businesses as a way of being “professional.” I hate how radfem culture has infected the discussion on it, to the point where normally STAUNCHLY anti-radfem bloggers unknowingly parrot the same talking points, I don’t consider it to be INHERENTLY evil and I DO think that some women can personally find empowerment with it. I’ve been BLOWN AWAY by the cosplay work people can do. But it IS fucked up that society EXPECTS women to spend hours each day on it. 

And, while I’m at it, while I don’t blame COMPANIES for naming their makeup things like “sex on the beach,” (astonishing, I know) because those are things VERY OBVIOUSLY AIMED AT ADULTS, I DO think that influencers are pure evil for convincing kids that they need them. (And also it’s not like the companies REALLY care about where they’re getting the money from, and the INFLUENCERS are getting money from somewhere, lest anyone think I’m giving capitalism a break here) And I blame parents for not being willing to discuss it with their kids, given that my mom was always very encouraging when it came to telling me that I didn’t need it when I was, like, 8. If you’re going to have kids, you need to be prepared to PARENT. And that includes discussing things with them, sometimes things that are uncomfortable, rather than simply giving them the $50 eyeshadow they’re asking for. And, to this day, I STILL don’t wear any, simply because I don’t feel like spending the time on it. I could probably magic myself some cheekbones if I really wanted to, but I don’t want to learn, not really, and I’m happy existing as I am. 

11. Do you experience dysphoria? If so, how does that affect you?

I’m not sure if I would describe it as DYSPHORIA, per see, but there can be this very odd, disjarring feeling when someone calls me a woman or uses she/her. It doesn’t really LAST per se, it’s very much a momentary thing, and, as I’ve said before, I favor it compared to the other pronoun/gender options, but it’s definitely not something I’m 100% happy with. 

15. Have you ever been to your cities pride event? Why or why not?

I haven’t been! Simply because even though my mom’s been open about being willing to take me, it’s still....awkward when you need to rely on someone else. Hopefully, next year, things will be better. 

16. Who is your favourite lgbt+ Icon/Advocate/Celebrity?

As far as people who are ACTUALLY LGBT+, I have a lot of personal respect for Janelle Monáe and Kristen Stewart. As far as icons and people who have been willing to speak out on behalf of LGBT+ rights while at least APPEARING to be straight (since I’m not going to pry one way or another), Taylor Swift, who has REPEATEDLY gone out there and embraced her LGBT+ fanbase. 

17. Have you been in a relationship and how did you meet?

I haven’t been, a fact which I bitterly lament to anyone who’s willing to hear, which I’m sure is a VERY attractive trait. [/s]  

19. Have you ever faced discrimination? What happened?

I haven’t, one of the advantages of not “pinging”/ not being in a relationship with anyone. Can’t face discrimination if you’re holding your own hand. 

21. Who are some of your favourite lgbt+ bloggers?

Hm, outside of here, I don’t really FOLLOW that many LGBT+ bloggers. And here, just about all my mutuals are some brand of LGBT+. Obviously, there’s you. As far as people who tend to work a lot with gay content, particularly in a historical context, I highly recommend @marzipanandminutiae. For more general fandom-y stuff, my old friend @taylorswiftnuswnt, who has been really instrumental as far as helping me realize that I was something other than a Straight Girl™ (and who helps me keep up with the Gay Migration at any given point in time.)

22. Which lgbt+ slur do you want to reclaim?“Queer”‘s already mine and they’ll have to pry it out of my grubby hands. 

27. What do you think of gender roles in relationships?

Some people REALLY need/want them, some people don’t. Personally, I resent the EXPECTATION that we HAVE to have them. 

 Personally, I’m not interested in replicating a 50s marriage with a gay bent. I spent my entire childhood dreading being forced into that kind of gender role in a relationship and really dreading the idea of a relationship in GENERAL because of that; I’m not going to get into a carbon copy of that. 

If someone ELSE wants to do that, I’m not going to shit on them, because it’s THEIR decision. Go forth and be happy, though I do want BOTH partners to be aware that there are other options. (I saw so many people in my old hometown become essentially cookie cutter brides after they graduated from high school, all of them with kids, all smiling faces, all “stand by your man,” and yes, it does give me Stepford Wife vibes.)

I know that back in the day, Butch/Femme couples were shit on for “replicating heterosexuality,” and that was obviously wrong, so I’m not going to try to pretend like one way is the most progressive, but also for me? Nada. And I do kind of resent how Tumblr’s turned top/bottom discussions into “Let’s replicate the gender binary with gay ships.” Basically, people SHOULD have the ability to choose what makes them happy, but also? It is NOT some kind of default. 

28. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

[jaxsilver]

Gender, Drag, Dysphoria and Contentment?

hurhur i wrote a song called contentment once, it was fucking terrible. So here’s the deal. Gender doesn’t exist. This is all purely based on my own beliefs, experiences and being in my own head, so consider that before you rip my fucking ass into shreds for anything you’re about to read. I don’t believe gender exists, atleast not in the way we know it. There is no boy, girl, fluid, non binary etc. It’s all just a label, a category someone came up with. But how the fuck are you supposed to feel when none of that really fits? For absolutely years I tried to figure out what gender label I felt most comfortable with, in recent times i settled for non binary as it was the biggest grey umbrella I could hide under. UNTIL… (que dramatic dundundun) one night, when i smoked some really dank weed, i realised something that would blow my goddamn mind. GENDER DOESN’T EXIST. but then what does? AHA, this is where the stoner mind kicks. What does exist is femininity, masculinity and androgyny, everyone is just a different mix of those. Keep the whole gender thing in mind, we’ll get back to it in a jiffy. Pronouns however are a completely different story, they are only something to refer to people as just as if it was their name except not because its kinda creepy to just repeat someones name 10 times a sentence yknow? A persons pronouns should still be fucking respected and if anyone ever misgenders you on purpose just burst into tears and make them feel like they’ve murdered your first born. Personally i still choose to go by they/them and he/him because thats what makes me feel comfortable in my own body, some people might not get that because yeah i was born into a ‘female’ body but if you don’t get it sucks to be you, respect a persons identity and pronoun choice or bin yaself you useless paperclip. Now drag. Like every other bitch under the age of 30 who’s taken a pritt stick to their eyebrows, (or in desperate day before payday broke ass times, hair wax) (don’t do it) (it doesn’t dry) I’ve watched an episode or two (or like 9 seasons worth) of Rupauls drag race. When i first fell in love with drag i was 13 and still functioning as “girl”. The people i was friends with saw drag as a man dressing up as a woman which like no you’re wrong. Drag to me is art, makeup is your medium and your face is your canvas. Yeah drag is about looking feminine but who says you can only do drag if you’ve gotta duct tape a dick to your ass?! Recently i’ve decided to start doing drag and being a drag queen, something i was told i couldn’t do at 13 because i was “already a girl”. WELL WHOOP DE FUCKING DO WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT HERE I AM DOING WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY AND THERE YOU ARE POSTING OUTDATED DONALD TRUMP MEMES. I’m still a tad salty about it so moving on. Shoutout to Adore Delano and Sharon Needles who were the first queens i ever saw make the dirty punk, grunge, emo look fucking incredible and beautiful. (also all my mates that badgered me to start drag, u da best). Remember how i told you to hold on to that gender concept? time to bring it back. As i said earlier, it took years for me to find a way to be comfortable with the idea of gender. If nothing you’ve read so far makes you understand that drag shouldn’t be limited to one type of person consider this. Until drag the sheer idea of femininity made me fucking cringe and crave death. no like seriously, you ever look in the mirror and realise you can’t wear your favourite expensive as fuck jeans anymore because they give you a waist which gives you a feminine shape and you just can’t be fucking arsed to hear ‘she’ all day anymore? it kinda sucks. drag is my outlet. it allows me to be feminine but on my own terms. i call my drag persona my hotter and more talented little sister. i’ve always loved the frances bean cobain grunge look with the long hair and makeup but to look like that as myself was just really fucking uncomfortable. but drag? no, not in drag. Lux Vicious is a character i created and use my self to portray and goddamn she’s fucking cool. don’t get me wrong, it didn’t suddenly stop body dysphoria, it was only an hour ago i was standing in front of the mirror being sad about the lack of bone structure in my face and not having a flat chest but that’ll never stop. but i can wear those jeans now and not feel as shitty about myself, because i still know that the things that aren’t out of my control (like my body shape) are all masculine and androgynous bc thats who i am. the tiny percentage of femininity i harbour comes out only during drag, but it finally has its own outlet and i feel a touch more comfortable in myself. there was probably a lot more i wanted to say but i thought of the majority of it in the shower and by the time id rinsed off id forgotten like 87% of it so keep your peepers peeled for a two point oh. the moral of this story is if it fucking makes you happy and feel good about yourself fuck everyone who negates it and doesn’t agree with it. its your fucking life and as long as you’re not killing people or sprinkling cancer into the water pipes, you’re golden.

p.s. this is not my usual style of writing due to me being high as a fucking kite on allergy medication because hay fever and i aren’t on the same page at the moment.