#transgender literature

[damnesdelamer]

Leslie Feinberg

I collected some of the works of one of our greatest comrades and warriors:

Transgender Liberation: A Movement Whose Time Has Come

Stone Butch Blues

Transgender Warriors: Making History From Joan Of Arc To Dennis Rodman

Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink Or Blue

Rainbow Solidarity In Defense Of Cuba

Remember, our first duty is to be educated, so arm yourselves with the best information. We have always existed, and we always will. And in each generation, we must remember those who came before us, and become the warriors that ze fought to equip. Stay strong, stay proud, and solidarity forever.

[jacksfandomrandom]

Everytime I Look For You

Summary: Blink is a transgender teenager just trying to get through highschool. After an incident at his old school, his family moved to New York for him to live a better life. As he tries to navigate the school year, he meets a pretty boy named Elliot, who is the president of the GSA and another transgender boy. Elliot is quite charming and pretty cute and may have gotten Blink to fall for him but Blink is scared to tell him that. Will he eventually tell him his feelings?

Edit: I originally had New York set to Canada because I forgot this wasn't my other original story set in canada. So sorry for the misunderstanding!

The loud music from my alarm sounded throughout my small bedroom as it tried waking me up early in the morning. This was the 3rd alarm I had set. I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake up from the first two, which is why I set three of them. Alarms and I never got along very well. They either don’t work, barely work, or scares me half to death. Luckily, this morning started out with the third alarm finally working and me waking up.

I pressed the off button on the screen of my phone and the guitar riff I had set as my alarm quickly stopped. I checked the time, making sure it wasn’t my fourth or fifth alarm, and was glad to find that it was 7:15. That gave me time to shower and get ready as today was my first day at my new school. 

I have never been to a school outside the US so it would be all new to me. Well, not everything would be new. I took a tour of the school a week prior and got to talk with the principal a bit about my situation. Overall, the school looked pretty good. It was a lot bigger than my old school and had some nice additions. Like, the nurses office had actual things to help injured students and they allowed us to have lockers. My old school tried to get rid of lockers because they didn’t want kids crowding the hallway, but would force everyone to wait outside the classroom until a teacher was inside. I probably wouldn’t be using the locker too much at this new school, but it would be nice to not have to carry my winter coat with me everywhere or my lunch my mom makes me pack. 

I grab my favorite baggy jeans, a plaid yellowish grey, dark grey and blue button down, a black t-shirt, and my binder. No, not the binder that you put paper in, or collect Pokemon cards in. A chest compression binder. My tits are actually pretty small but I have a lot of boob fat on my side and my tit is very pointy, so I bind to get rid of my bulging chest. I usually hate putting a binder on after showering, but I wouldn’t have much time to air dry so I'd have to make do. I turned the water on and began to strip off my pajamas. I try avoiding my reflection the best I can before hopping into the shower. The water is a little cold but not too bad. 

After I finished cleaning myself up, I quickly dried off and changed. I almost got stuck in my binder but it eventually got on. I put on everything else and began doing my hair. I have spiky punk hair with green tips. Dyed hair is amazing and I love the way it looks. I know the spiky hair thing is a little cringe and old but I don’t care, it looks good on me. I spray some cologne on and observe my reflection a bit more. Instead of focusing on my body, I try to look at my facial hair, see what’s coming in, you know? I got a lot of neck hair that I shaved off yesterday but I'm really trying to find my starter stache. I examined my upper lip and found the tiniest of hair coming in. That helped boost my self-image a bit.

Once I was done in the bathroom, I made my way downstairs to get my shoes on and bag ready. I contemplated getting breakfast and if I should skip. My stomach grumbles but I can’t risk feeling bloated on my first day, so I grab a couple of grapes and eat them. Luckily, I didn’t get any bad texture ones that make me want to barf. 

My mom comes down a few minutes later to get ready before work. I take my meds and vitamins as she gets her flavorless cardboard rice squares and spreads cream cheese on it. I don’t understand how she can eat that stuff. It’s always stale and tastes like nothing. Plus it’s like 80 calories for one thing. And that doesn’t even count the spread on top. No thank you. I’ll just have my 5 grapes, thank you very much.

“Don’t forget to pack your lunch, Blink,” Mom says to me.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, my name is Blink. There's a story behind how I picked that name out but I don't feel like thinking about that right now. 

“Yeah, alright, Mom,” I replied, getting out a bento box. I took out one slice of bread and cut it in half. That way I'll make half a sandwich. I spread some light mayonnaise on before piling some ham, Tomato, and half a slice of gouda. After I put it in the box and stuff it in my bag before Mom could notice my small meal I packed, I pull out my phone and earbuds and got ready to leave. The bus stop is a few houses down from where i live 

I stepped out of my house and took in the nice northern air. Back in Florida, the start of the school year was always picked out to be the hottest day. Luckily, it was perfect weather for pants and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. That’s how I preferred to wear my clothes anyways. 

I walked down the sidewalk of my neighborhood and eventually came up to the stop sign where the bus stops. There’s a few other kids waiting there, some looking about a year older than me and some looking younger. They’re all on their phones and showing each other pictures. I decide to stand a little bit away from them, not wanting to bud in on their personal space. I just hope the bus won’t take too long to get here.

The bus shows up about 3 minutes later. I let the other students get on before I do. There were a couple of empty seats and I chose to sit in one near the middle. The back is always so loud and crowded, it just messes with all my senses. I don’t give a damn that I’m being a baby about it. Music blasts through my headphones even though everyone in the middle and front aren’t too loud because it’s 7:45 in the morning. Loud music helps wake me up in the morning when I can’t drown myself in Diet Mountain Dew. More kids pile into the bus as we hit a few stops. It gets a little louder but not too bad. I can handle this. This is what normal highschool students go through. 

Eventually, the bus pulls up to the school. I still am amazed how big this school is compared to my old one. The bus stops and kids rush to get off. I stay behind until almost everyone is off. I hate getting stuck in between people in a small aisle. I love small compact spaces when I need to calm down or relax, but when I’m trying to get somewhere and it’s other people that make it small, it’s stressful.

As I walk in, I see some kids have their phones out or headphones in. I let out a small sigh in relief. I know I talk a lot about my old school, but it just really sucked. We had to keep our phones hidden inside our bags at all times. It was so annoying. 

I made my way to the office to get my schedule and hopefully get some guidance on where the fuck i am supposed to go. I know I got a tour but I don’t know where all the classrooms are. This place is like a maze and I’m a small ant inside of it. The front office is a medium size but I doubt this year i’ll be in here every other day. There’s a lady sitting at the desk and she looks up from the computer she’s typing on and smiles at me.

“The freshman should’ve gotten their schedules at the assembly yesterday,” She explained. I cringe a little at being called a freshman, but i get it. I look younger than I really am. I unfortunately was born with chronic baby face. It’s not even a trans thing for me, it’s just how I was born.

“I’m a sophomore, I just moved during the summer,” I told her.

“Oh, my apologies! I thought you were a freshman. What’s your name, dear?” She asked me.

“Blink Stevens,” I responded. Yeah, I know my initials are BS but that makes it fun.

“Ah yes, Blink Stevens. I remember being told about you,” She said before handing me a piece of paper. I look at my classes and smile to see that all my electives are the ones I picked out. I got Art and Career. I like to draw so art was a good option. I mainly picked Career because I want to be able to figure out what I want to do when I’m older and this class is supposed to help with that.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said before going on my way to find my classes. I wish she had given me some kind of tour guide or map since I don’t remember where anything is.

I walk a while, up and down the hallways, trying to find where my locker is first. The sheet that the front office lady gave me also had my locker number on it. Dropping off some of my stuff was the first thing I needed to do. I was not going to be lugging around the textbooks they made us buy. If I needed it for a class, I’d just go get it.

I made it to my locker without much difficulty. Luckily, it’s not that complicated to get around and it’s pretty straightforward. However, as I walked to my locker, I saw this pretty cute boy talking with some other kids. The kids he was talking to had pride pins on their bags and I overheard them talking about a GSA. I wanted to go over to them and ask if I could join, as I loved the ideas of GSA’s and even tried to start one at my old school. But I refrained. If anyone saw me even talking to them, I could be at risk for getting found out.

I put away the unnecessary textbooks and try to find my class. The halls are quite crowded but some people are luckily already in their homeroom. I trudge through the crowds of students, checking the numbers of the classrooms and letters of the hallways. I eventually came upon room 201, algebra 2. Normal highschool life, here I come.

[eepy-eep]

Cuckoo by Gretchen Felker-Martin

[nekhcore]

HEY YOU!

Yeah, you! Are you trans? Do you like reading books? Or watching movies?

Do you like media about trans men/transmasculine characters but don't know where to find it?

That's sooo crazy because I have this little spreadsheet I'm working on where I'm trying to document all media with protagonists/major characters who are FTM or transmasculine.

The spreadsheet currently has 400+ entries spread across the following categories:

Books

Manga

Memoirs and non-fiction

Movies

TV Shows

Graphic novels / Comics

Webcomics

Audio dramas

Books and movies are also sorted by:

Which character is trans (MC, love interest, antagonist, etc)

If the trans character is POC

The trans character's sexuality (Because I saw lots of transhet guys sad about only being able to find gay romances)

If the author/actor is also trans (if we know for sure)

It's free to use, and free to add to as well! Editing permissions are on, and I check on the spreadsheet every now and then to make sure everything is in order and to clean up.

If you know something that isn't on the list, please add it! You don't have to fill in every single column, but fill it to the best of your abilities.

If you don't want to use the big ass long link below, you can also use: bit.ly/FTM-protags

I made this because I want it to be a community resource. So even if you're not a trans guy or transmasculine person, please reblog!

[emberwhite]

Do you think you have the correct opinion?

I'm currently looking for reviewers for my new transgender novella I just released called The Drunk, The Gambler, and The Lover. It's about how people see you for what you aren't and the life of isolation, loneliness, and addiction that comes with it, a faceless existence. It's about that one day you realize you have been lying to yourself for 20 years and the great unraveling that follows, a conversation about writing, art, and self-acceptance.

(It's in stores, but just DM me or ask me in the comments, and I will give you a free copy. Verified Amazon reviews are the best way to support indie authors.)

[lttledog]

I Saw the TV Glow (2024), dir. Jane Schoenbrun.

[mysharona1987]

[floral-ashes]

Remember when I published this in a serious journal and everyone thought it was very funny?

Well, Gender/Fucking: The Pleasures and Politics of Living in a Gendered Body is basically where I stake my claim at being a depraved freak. 😉

Don’t wait! Get your copy now! Available on Bookshop and plenty more.

[selenedistress]

[grayandbleu]

poem about being transgender :3

[thedawnofcrime]

Monika's Tip of the Day 🏳️‍⚧️

[emberwhite]

For five years, I've been trying to tell this story. It's a tale about coming out—to the reader themselves and for a general audience so that more people might better understand it. Not many mainstream readers are willing to pick up a book about a transfem character because of how unrelatable they think it is. For this reason, it's extremely difficult to get a publishing deal for something like this. I take that as a challenge.

I wanted to make something artistic about it. They say the simplest definition of art is transference of feeling from author to reader, and I really wanted to capture what this whole experience has been like for the past 20 years. It's not easy, and it's not supposed to be either. That's what makes it all worth writing. So, how can it be done?

I like Russian literature. I like Dostoevsky. He will give you a character and tell you this person is bad, bad, and bad. Then, as you get into the mind of their character throughout his novel, you slowly start to find similarities between you and them. You might even begin to agree with them. And at one single moment, there you will be saying to yourself, "Oh my god. I AM this person." It's truly great. He understood human psychology, like no other.

I hope to do the same but backwards. I will tell you everything about this character without telling you who this character is. I used no pronouns to describe my character. Instead, I tried to produce this mysterious, unsettling mood around The Drunk. If I can get the reader to relate and identify with this person through workaholism, alcoholism, loneliness, isolation, and addiction, maybe then transfer of feeling can happen. It's a book about not being seen and understood, and I do think that is something universal, especially in this age of tech. It's devastating and the beginning of self-destruction.

The Drunk, The Gambler, and The Lover is now available on Amazon and for order at your local library and bookstore.

(Or you could just leave a comment asking for a free copy.)

[alexanthonymar]

invitation cards - Alexander Anthony Mar

[that-butch-archivist]

"I have a thin stack of photographs from my fiftieth birthday party. This morning I've drawn them from a crumpled white envelope to look at them for the first time since that evening. I've delayed looking--the weight the pictures carry is heavy. That night there were flowers, candles, jazz, blues, and salsa, party favors that uncurled like snakes, and a huge sugary cake. My two beautiful grown sons and I and my beloved Leslie gathered with friends in an echoing room. There I usually sat at long tables in political meetings, shoulder to shoulder with others, listening, talking, our hands busy stuffing envelopes for our next demonstration. But that night the room was transformed with balloons, streamers, banners--and photographs everywhere. Leslie had set up tall cardboard stands with pictures documenting my "fifty years of love and struggle." At the center were pictures of me and my sons. [...] Them at seven and eight, sitting knee to knee on top of my VW bug--I am standing by the open car door, one hand turning nervously against the other. I'm about to drive the children back to their father, who wrested custody of them from me. He has had me declared an unfit mother, because I am a lesbian. In all the pictures of us together we are smiling. There are no snapshots of the moments of terrible pain--the images that flash through memory over and over, like a home movie of agony. [...] Perhaps every family album has these private pictures, the stories we try to guess at from a few hidden whispers and the grief-struck eyes above someone's smiling mouth. [...] This is the family album of one of the many of us who have been told that we are not fit to have a family, told that we can stay in the family only if we are quiet and invisible, told not to "flaunt" our life, not to make a scene. [...] One June day, in his teenage years, my oldest called to talk about a video he'd just seen on public television, a documentary about gay families. I said to him, "You know, I've never asked how you've felt about my being a lesbian, how you think it's affected you." And he said, "Your being a lesbian didn't affect me. What hurt me was not being able to have you with me." My story is but one of many, that of a woman who mothered her children almost in isolation for years. Who struggled to hold them as a family even though the law decreed that they could not enter her home if she shared it with another adult. Who strove to teach them connection to the forbidden others in her life, those who might give them a new kind of family, a different kind of world, where no people would lose their family because of hatred against how they love or the color of their skin, because of their despised femaleness or their poverty. [...] I unfold the creased envelope. The pictures from that birthday night show the four of us standing awkwardly together. One son smiles but looks down; the other frowns, turned inward. My smile is tense, Leslie's face is drawn and tired from a recent illness. Yet beyond that snapshot are moments when we are smiling. The four of us piling into a car later that night, crammed in with presents, cards, chrysanthemums, and cake, laughing giddily that we are like a clown car in the circus, like a party ready to burst out when a door opens, everything in hand that we need for another feast. [...] We have fought to claim our lives with each other despite years that we have been physically, forcibly, separated. Despite years of no words to explain to others what we are to each other. How--despite what law, custom, religion may say--we are heart of each others' hearts."

-- Excerpted from "Family Album," Minnie Bruce Pratt's foreword for Love Makes A Family: Portraits of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Parents and Their Families. (Emphasis in bold my own.)

Year of publication: 1999

[izzywinterzs-blog]

❤️❤️🍆

[ts-olivia]

Kiss 🥰♥️