#schuylerbailar

[mizamour]

This is a book I cannot wait to order for the library! One of the best middle grade realistic fiction books I've read all year, and written by an athlete - author-activist who shares many of the identities of his protagonist! Obie Chang lives for swimming, but he's just been kicked off his team. Not because of his skills, which are formidable, but because his bigoted coach can't deal with his courage in coming out as trans. But he is determined to be himself, competing as the boy he is even though he would have won higher awards on a girl's team, and even in the face of bigotry and cruel bullying from a former best friend. Thankfully, he is wholeheartedly accepted by his loving Korean-American family, his new friends on a new team, and, excitingly, his first crush, but navigating the complexity of middle school life is a lot for any kid. Facing all the awkwardness and confusion and uncertainty of those times, Obie struggles with self - doubt, but with the support of loved ones, humor, and his own growing confidence as a writer, he finds his voice and his self-assurance. There are so many things right with this book - it deals with some tough topics but is genuinely fun and hopeful, often funny, and shows Obie in all his multi-faceted intersectionality and complex humanity. He's never a poster child for anything or an expression of Resilience, he's just himself - and in being that, becomes such a loveable character that you can't help but cheer for. I loved so many of the ancillary characters too - his writing teacher, his halmoni, and brother were some of my favorites - and this was such realistic realistic - fiction, you could almost smell the chlorine-infused excitement of the swim meets and taste the homey vibe of the local sandwich shop. This book is awesome representation and awesome literature - it is going to become one of my most recommended for fans of realistic fic, sports books, friendship drama stories, and just generally compelling novels. #obieismanenough #ownvoices #schuylerbailar #sportsfiction #diversekidsbooks #childrensliterature #childrensbookstagram #librariansofinstagram #schoollibrarian #representationmatters #lgbtqbooks #inclusivebooks https://www.instagram.com/p/CVrSzvHs-pj/?utm_medium=tumblr

[favhirai]

Dear mom. I know that a lot has been going on. I just got out of rehab, I ‘m asking you to call me your son, and I want to move out. And it seems like a lot is about to happen. I know that surgery is scary and I know most people don’t understand why I would voluntarily undergo a double mastectomy to remove a part of my body of which most of my female friends are jealous. And I’m not going to lie and tell you that I’m not a little bit scared, and a little bit sad. Even though I’ve never wanted them, my breasts are a part of me. Last week I made a video of myself for myself for later, with my bare chest exposed. And as I did so, I felt this strange surge of pride in my body – a love of every bit of me. I haven’t ever felt like that… There’s always been something I’ve hated or wanted to change. Some part of my body that I picked out to pick on. But that day, even though I saw things I didn’t like, even though I saw things I really do want to change, for some reason, I still felt love and pride for everything. Including my breasts. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing that’s making me doubt my decision to get them removed, but I felt a sort of strange sadness that they’ll finally be gone – kind of like getting rid of a bad habit or something. And I can’t say I’m going to miss them. Because I’m not. But it still feels surreal. My body will be cut open, the fat sucked out of me, my mammary glands thrown out along with my ability to ever nurture a child. I’ll be patched back up, and wake up probably 10 pounds lighter… And I will be whole, yet some of me will be missing. And I will always love that part of me, in a peculiar way. I will always be thankful for the strength and courage they demanded I show as they grew (and grew and grew and grew) to declare to the world this was not me. I am not boobs. I am not woman. I am Schuyler. But back to how you’re involved. I like to believe that this body is just as much yours as it is mine. My little brain, my little arms, my brown eyes with green flecks, my little fingers all grew in your body from your body. And my body, though it has a separate consciousness than yours, is an extension of yours. And I want you to know something as I move forwards in my transition: I do not hate the body you gave me. People talk about transgender individuals being “born in the wrong body.” As if being born is just something that happens. As if there were not people and love and care and pain and happiness and joy and terror involved. Born. Given life. Brought into the world. There is nothing wrong in that process. There is no “wrong” in birth. I was not born wrong at all; I was not born with the wrong mind; I was not born into the wrong body, In fact, you did not birth a body at all. You birthed me; a whole and entire person. A person with teeny little finger nails, tiny eyes and tiny hands, little itty bitty feet, and a huge heart… a whole person all the same. A lot of trans people talk about how their bodies betray them and how they hate their hips or lack thereof, their breasts or lack thereof, their femininity or their masculinity… But I don’t…anymore, at least. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my days of raging, of self-harming, body-hating… I’ve written a good deal of poems angry at my body — some on my body. But these days, I do not hate my body. In fact, I have worked hard learning to love every bit of myself – every part of my body that you gave me to love. And I am proud of it all. Because you birthed me whole; I arrived an entire person. And through the past year of treatment and travel and just plain old life experiences, I’ve learned a love that I will always have For this body of mine. For the parts that I don’t agree with. For the parts that I have always agreed with. For the parts that are invisible… For this body of mine. Because no matter how life changes it, this body will always be beautiful, this body will always be something you created. So. Dear mom. Thank you. I love you.

Dear Mom: A Letter Before Surgery Published by pinkmantaray (Schuyler Bailar) on March 10, 2016

[oli-iw]

FINAL HAND IN

OVERVIEW

I was initially not keen on the idea of submitting a poster before 10PM every day, but as I got into the groove of it I started to actually really enjoy it. The prompts challenged me in a way that I enjoyed, especially the first Pictionary one. I learned a lot of fundamental and technical skills in this class.

Fundamental Skills

utilising the fundamental design principles that I learned about in first year Screen.

visual rhetoric strategies like juxtaposition, subversion, homage, parody, satire, pastiche and dynamism. I look forward to using these more in the future to make my work more impactful. 

what constitutes plagiarism and how to avoid it.

visual hierarchy applies to text as well.

a rationale can be easily determined by putting aim, concept and strategy into words. 

Technical Skills

I learned how to use the object selection tool for the first time in this class (yes, I used to spend so much time drawing and erasing).

I used paragraph styles by my own will instead of by Fay’s will and realised how helpful they actually are.

printing in full scale helps to get a proper understanding of which bits of my posters worked and which bits didn’t.

I compiled new typefaces from my own research and from other classmates.

realistically combining my own photography with stock photography and abstract background in my pie poster.

RATIONALE

I began the Ihi Wehi paper knowing that I wanted to make social action posters that focused on transgender inequality. During the process of the daily exercises, I narrowed this subject down to cisnormativity and then eventually to our problematic tendency to assume that gender is supposed to look a certain way.

My posters aim to encourage viewers to not assume someone’s gender based on physical appearance or clothing. My call to action is for viewers to train themselves to get into the habit of asking peoples’ pronouns upon self-introduction, and to follow a QR link to a page on Schuyler Bailar’s website which educates about what kind of language is appropriate to use when talking about gender transition.

The concept for my final two posters is the use of objects that contain something inside that cannot be determined by simply looking at the outside (i.e. books and pies) as the main point of focus. I use the rhetorical FDP strategies of juxtaposition, contrast, confrontational images (genitalia makes people uncomfortable, and so does my subject, but I am hoping to help train them out of this), balance, and repetition.

I use the colour red in Final 1 to represent urgency and match the images’ intention of grabbing the audience’s attention. I use the colours of the transgender pride flag in Final 2; they match the softer focus of the image while still maintaining the message.

CITATIONS

Bailar, Schuyler. ‘Terminology’. Schuylerbailar - Pinkmantaray, 26 Jan. 2015, https://pinkmantaray.com/terminology.

Butterfly Images – ‘Butterfly’. Pexels, https://www.pexels.com/collections/butterfly-hyyxbri/. Accessed 28 Jul. 2021.

Counting Ourselves – Aotearoa New Zealand Trans and Non-Binary Health Survey. https://countingourselves.nz/. Accessed 20 Jul. 2021.

Elisheva, Shuli. ‘Left Handed’. Twitter, https://twitter.com/shulielisheva/status/1300057925361242112. Accessed 13 Jul. 2021.

Pie Image – Garcia Studio. ‘Cherry-Pie-Slice-Glam.Jpg’. Garcia Studio, http://imap.www.garciastudio.com/content/cherry-pie-slice-glam/. Accessed 9 Aug. 2021.

Whipped Cream Image – ‘How to Make Keto Stabilized Whipped Cream’. My Crash Test Life, 26 Dec. 2020, https://mycrashtestlife.com/2020/12/26/how-to-make-keto-stabilized-whipped-cream/.

Tree Bark Image – Martinez, Ave Calvar. ‘Closeup of Texture of Bark Wood’. Pexels, https://www.pexels.com/photo/closeup-of-texture-of-bark-wood-4419902/. Accessed 22 Jul. 2021.

‘Trans and Non-Binary Health and Wellbeing Report Reveals Severe Inequities’. RNZ, 23 Sept. 2019, https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/national/399433/trans-and-non-binary-health-and-wellbeing-report-reveals-severe-inequities.

What’s Transphobia? | Facts About Transphobic Discrimination. https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/gender-identity/transgender/whats-transphobia. Accessed 14 Jul. 2021.

[favhirai]

Last night I had one notification on Facebook: “[my mother’s name] listed you as her son.” Most kids would probably just be astounded that their parent even knew how to do that. Old people, right? But to me, it meant so much more. Being her son isn’t something that came as a birthright to me. Regardless of against whom I fought – though it was mainly myself – I have fought long and hard to be known as your son. But a week ago, it was National Daughters’ Day. And as I stand here today, it’s clear I’m not a daughter. It appears that I am fully son – brother, boy… But the truth is, I am also daughter. My parents waited for me for a decade and when I finally arrived through a difficult birth – healthy, crying, and marked with a huge F, I was wholly their daughter. There were “it’s a girl” balloons and HERE-SHE-IS candy bars. And although there were very few years of doing my hair up, putting me in dresses with pink bows, and teaching me to do makeup, A part of me, I know, will always be “daughter.” When I came out to my grandmother, her only request was this: in Korean culture, daughters take care of their mothers in a way sons do not. Take care of your mother, she said, that is still your duty; you can be a boy but you must take care of your mother. Mom, dad, a part of me will always be daughter. I will take care of you. I know that there has been (and perhaps, still is) a mourning period; that is, the loss of your daughter. And for my brother, the loss of his sister. And I understand that. There was a mourning period for me, too. There still is. Because the truth is, I still miss her, sometimes. I miss bits of that life – especially when it does feel completely isolated and separate from the life I live today. But she’s not gone. She is still a part of me, and I a part of her. That life was and is not discontinuous with my life now, no matter how much I wish to disconnect from it at times. I used to wish that I’d just been born a boy. A lot of me hates the four years I conformed in high school. A lot of me hates that I didn’t “stay true” to myself. But the reality is, I was staying as authentic as I knew how. And through those years I learned everything I know about the world – about people, about myself. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make it any less sad. This isn’t an easy process. This isn’t simple. And as much as we want to normalize it, it isn’t normal. It’s erasing a future you thought I’d have, It’s erasing the person you thought I’d be. But it isn’t that black and white, either. Happiness is not simple or pure. Happiness is complicated and evasive; it is not received or achieved, it is constantly and consistently fought for and held. Happiness is the release of regret and the could-haves, the should-haves… It is the acceptance of what is and what was – regardless of how good or bad. I think people think that happiness is the opposite of sadness; that the presence of happiness can somehow cancel out the sadness. But it can’t. It doesn’t. The opposite of sadness is indifference, not happiness. I am not indifferent. I’m growing and I’m happy and I’m sad. This process is both overflowing with joy and dripping with tears. And I don’t regret a second of it. Dear mom and dad, I am not any different as a human – I’m still me, I’m still Schuyler But labels are not meaningless, even if I wish them to be. Sometimes I do feel lost. Or, at least, I feel like I’ve lost a piece of myself. A concept of myself… But the reality is dialectic; that is, two seemingly conflicting things are true at the same time. I am not lost, and I have not been lost. In fact, I am more here and present than I have ever been. And yet, there are pieces of me that seem nonexistent. Gone. Erased. I am called sir, not ma’am. I am brother, not sister. I am son, not daughter. Most people who meet me have no idea that my birth certificate initially said “F” on it. But my history is not gone. It is, and forever will be, a part of me. Integral, in pieces, whole, opposite all at the same time. And so, Happy National Daughters’ Day. I have always been brother, and son. But a part of me will always be sister, and daughter. I hope you know that. Love, Schuyler

National Daughters’ Day by  pinkmantaray ( Schuyler Bailar)