#or if that’ll make me feel dysphoric in the opposite direction because i am Not a man

[devilofthepit]

i just need to be perceived like a feminine guy without being a guy and actually being a Thing

[kwusen]

I just wanted to ask, but im a trans girl and im way too masculine to ever truly change my face. I dont know of you're trans or if you are have this problem but i dont know what to do. I feel like i will nevwr truly be myself.

Hey there! I am trans but I am a trans guy! In your case, I can understand a little bit about what you’re going through, if not in the opposite direction. It’s hard when being trans because there’s a level of societal expectations that mark what we need to look like in order to ‘pass’ and ‘passing’ leaves us with a sense of lessened dysphoria because,,,well we’re not being misgendered! 

we are our biggest critique so it’s difficult for any change to begin that isn’t drastic because we know ourselves best– any change feels too small in these situations but!!!!!!!!! they can help over time! 

If you’re comfortable and feel safe to do so, maybe simple make up can help aid in some lessening of dysphoria! I know Stef Sanjanti has a few videos up and she even goes into detail about any changes she’s gone through since she first began her transition. c: 

For example, just to use myself, I darken my eyebrows on days I am feeling dysphoric because for some reason, that little bit of make up helps me feel more masculine! Say you feel extra feminine when wearing a really cute lip gloss, wear it around the house or where you feel most safe and eventually you’ll feel more like yourself, little by little!

Just to add on, trans folks always get told they need to be a certain amount of femininity and masculinity in order to ‘pass’, in order to be taken seriously, etc. There’s a reinforcement when it comes to gender stereotypes with trans folks and sometimes! They do actually help! it’s completely okay to follow those stereotypes if they help dysphoria! But what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to if you know deep down you’re not those things! You’re still a girl no matter what, you’re still beautiful no matter what! That’ll never change. What can change, if you want it to, is how you present. And if changing that, even if at first simple make up, can help you feel most comfortable, then I’m nothing but support for you!

I can’t say I know everything there is to being a trans girl because 1)I’m not a trans girl 2) I’M NOT A TRANS GIRL GUOJIDAKL BUT I am trans in some sense of the word. I understand at the basic level what you’re going through. So I’m here for you, if you ever want to DM me or keep talking on anon. I’m just a simple frog here folks,gijoakl

[nathaniel-g-blog]

What saith the Lord?

“If you extract the precious from the worthless, you will become My spokesman.” 

- Jeremiah 15:19, as cited on the first page of John Bevere’s Thus Saith The Lord? How to know when God is speaking to you through another

“Watch out for fake heads deviled disguised men Arriving from the dawn and spawned with ill forms That'll leave you laying dead in the womb like stillborns” 

- Jedi Mind Tricks, “Heavenly Divine,” from the album Violent by Design

“We must put the DDT which destroys parasites, the bearers of disease, on the same level as the Christian religion which wages war on embryonic heresies and instincts, and on evil as yet unborn.” 

-Frantz Fanon in The Wretched of the Earth

This summer I begged Gillian Rose to tell me what to do. I had learned to disavow the desire to be seen as, to see myself as, a good person. I still wanted to create the conditions under which I could give birth to the person I wanted to be, and I wanted her to show me how. I also prayed. Answers were not forthcoming. Prophecy was contentious in my parents’ church tradition. Was it is about the future or the present? The present in light of the future or the future in light of the present? Was biblical prophecy primarily concerned with things to come or things which have already happened? Perhaps most importantly, how and through whom could God’s will be expressed with the opening qualifier “thus saith the Lord?” One of the first and only theological arguments I had with the woman I married was regarding slavery. I thought Christians should consider themselves slaves, with God as our master. This was non-negotiable. I was God’s property, and that meant desiring earnestly to perform mastery. I couldn’t become God, but I could become his messenger. The thought was enthralling. To desire mastery while insisting that you are a slave. The pleasure of power for those who have disavowed both. The structure of antagonism. I have heard enough parents tell me that they love the children they are abusing to suspect that reality itself is dysphoric. It is not that our desires don’t match onto the desires of others but that, as Paul observed, we do not even want the things we want. Our children, our bodies, our relations do not match themselves or what we think we need from them. We do not understand. Prophecy announced that things are not as they should be. This seemed to match my experience. All that was left to be adjudicated was how things are, how they should be, and the nature of their possible relation. One crude reading was that the way things are is the way we want them to be, the way they should be is how God wants them to be, and the nature of their relation is submission. I didn’t know anyone who wanted things to be the way they are. If we wanted to want something different, we had to remember that God had ordained the world as it actually was. Everything defined by its opposite, non-identical even with itself. The split in reality as the contest between what God wants and what we want. Sometimes the only way to know what God wants is to work backwards, to counterpose what we think as its obvious opposite. What do we actually want? This remains a mystery because our only concern is what God wants. The split exists as a projection, not covering over an underlying unity but positing one, the hope that we can once for all rid the world of its instability, that God can rid us of ourselves. We only wanted the things that God wanted; as it turned out we did not want anything at all. This year I realized that some patterns of life had been or become unlivable. I needed something different. I needed a word from God. Several people in my life had been preparing for such an opportunity, they wanted to encourage me and tell me that God did not want me to be miserable, but also to clarify that the way to be happy was more fully renouncing myself. I felt I had nothing left to renounce but was willing to try. Turn to God, turn away from yourself. But where was God to be found? Not anywhere on heaven or earth, it seemed. God was there, and if you didn’t suspend your powers of judgment and seek an illegible martyrdom, you would be sorry. But I already was. They insisted on a relationship with this God while implicitly asserting its impossibility. Accept the logically unacceptable. Raging against and insisting upon the permanence of melancholy. So lonely with this god, with no escape. This weekend I was in a basement looking for a Casio, looking to express feelings I didn’t understand on an instrument I understood even less. I stopped cold when I saw again the cover to the Manchester Orchestra album I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child. It stopped me in my tracks as I remembered. Two things in particular I remember about that album: 1) the songs all sort of sound the same because they sort of are 2) listening and being sad about everything, about what I was and what I wasn’t, feeling loss and guilt without the pleasure of newness or promise, like my situation was indescribably special. It wasn’t, but I didn’t know that. I barely knew I had a situation. The way I came to recognize it was in misrecognizing the pain. I began with that album to mourn my inability to mourn. I felt I needed something else, and I did. The woman on that cover looks like she needs a word from the Lord, but might be the only person in the room, besides the camera.

“The archival photograph is a time-stamped, carceral text.”- Zoé Samudzi

This weekend I thought about prophecy and remembered Bevere’s book. Its basic argument is that if we do not learn to separate true from false, we will not know what God is saying, and without a vision we will perish. It is thick with talk of eradicating disease, pollutants, corruption, defilement; the story of Hagar and Ishmael is a metaphor for the ontological split between promise and flesh, or between the flesh which does or does not possess promise. Christians in Bevere’s account should be the paradigmatic racial scientists. A Christianity premised on distinctions, which can ultimately make none; Christianity as the police.

In 2005 Jus Allah released his solo debut album All Fates Have Changed. I found it enthralling. He opens by declaring that he is “beyond measure” and “supreme authority over the universe.” That felt good to sing along with, even though I knew he wasn’t talking about me. I was a young white dude in Manchester,New Hampshire, but I could pretend. He was “a runaway slave with back scars” and an “immaculate being.” The white devils who hurt him would come to be sorry. He promised to “release aggression…explode like atomic weapons…Go into deep spells of demonic possession.” He has words for all his enemies: “Y'all corny motherfuckers sound repetitive, it’s safe to say, I'm the smartest man that's ever lived. I am negative, I will kill a relative.” What else is Jus Allah? “pure darkness, sparkless, glitterless, imageless, but still infinitely limitless… placed on the planet just to cause problems… from the master race exactly, God of the planet, boss of the factory.” He is contradictory. He tells us that tomorrow never comes, and why it cannot: “My stomach got young dead orphans in it; I eat from trash cans at abortion clinics.”

“the blackened-not-blackened fetus is stuck—suspended between a blackness whose freedom cannot commence and cannot be withstood, a blackness that cannot be born and cannot be borne.” -Jared Sexton

Prophecy is the negotiation of power and knowledge which shape conditions for life in the world. Prophecy can be a matter of opening or closing possibilities. I do not want to undersell the apparent strangeness of the behaviors at the church services where I met God, nor the extent to which this strangeness was performance of a denial of difference. You could speak up in protest, directed towards the Other outside and in yourself. In the end, every word from God must be an affirmation, an encouragement.  

This essay is not about prophecy but about my relation to it. I grew up knowing that meaning implies domination, and that man’s search for it required acceptance of roles of master and slave, of Man, that to resist domination required an end to the possibility of even provisional meaning. Prophecy could be a way of ensuring that everyone can live or determining who must not. The prophecy to which I found myself attracted was an aborted negativity. Negativity insofar as it recognized that things were wrong, but a negativity which ultimately aspired to be content with itself as God, to a heavenly place in the world whose gates could eventually be shut. Negativity as the problem which required the promise of prophecy to solve.

Prophecy was a way of denying the obvious: “a disaster's a disaster no matter what Christian language you drag it through.” It was like my divorce: a split produced by the desire for wholeness and the repression of an originary split. One thing I knew for sure was that I shouldn’t follow my own agenda, but instead God’s. One thing I could not have known is that God did not have one, and neither did I, and that if I could not have the split I thought I wanted, I could at least try to know the one I had.

“Our historic mission is to sanction all revolts, all desperate actions, all those abortive attempts drowned in rivers of blood.” -Frantz Fanon

How was I to know when God’s agenda came to earth? “Your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.” As a young child I was haunted by night terrors. Animals at night, outside my window, usually on the neighbor’s roof. I could not resist looking out the window at them. I was not afraid of what they would do to me. They just watched. I was afraid of them because of what they knew. White nightmares. I could not rest.

Everyone knows that immaculate conceptions are impossible, that they are only possible with God, and that the eventual experience of premature death is really another part of his plan. When something feels wrong, you may want a word from God. But prophecy is like an army of locusts. Who can endure it?

(What helped me write this: Amaryah Armstrong, Alex Haley, Gil Anidjar, other readers of Lacan)