Beware of self-indulgence. The romance surrounding the writing profession carries several myths: that one must suffer in order to be creative; that one must be cantankerous and objectionable in order to be bright; that ego is paramount over skill; that one can rise to a level from which one can tell the reader to go to hell. These myths, if believed, can ruin you.
If you believe you can make a living as a writer, you already have enough ego.
—  David Brin

EDIT: If you’re reading this for the first time, please see the update here:

I fucked up and if you’re thinking about reblogging this, reblog the other version instead.

Is it just me? Am I the only one who finds being a trans woman to be a spiritually exhausting exercise some days?

Not every day, but definitely some days.

It’s exhausting dealing with the frustration and disappointment of yet one more cis friend turning their back on you, or piling on when you’re attacked or taking a neutral position when you’re fighting for your humanity.

It’s exhausting to be expected to fight for and support everyone else’s access to their human rights, all the while being told to wait your turn, or that you flat out don’t deserve them in the first place.

It’s exhausting being seen as some kind of artificial woman, while still having to maintain all of the social artifice that comes with being any kind of woman. All women have their appearance and presentation closely monitored and policed. Trans women then have to navigate the murky waters of embodying their womanhood amongst accusations of being too feminine, and thus pretending, or not feminine enough, and thus faking it for sexual gratification or perverse pleasure.

It’s exhausting being held responsible for bearing the punishment for cis men’s misbehavior and violence. These hypothetical men are given as the reason trans women must be kept out of women’s spaces, all the why explicitly denying and implicitly confirming that we are also violent, rapacious and malevolent men

It’s exhausting to be told explicitly and implicitly in a hundred small and large ways that cis people are generally fine with any number of trans people being attacked and/or killed, so long as they can pretend that further marginalizing trans people somehow grants them additional safety and security from other cis people.

It’s exhausting having to learn the social scripts, shibboleths and passcodes necessary to make your way through an over medicalized and over pathologized process.

It’s exhausting having to fight your own “community” for recognition and respect. Numerous groups line up to tell you how you’re being trans wrong, how you’re being a trans woman wrong, how you’re being a woman wrong, how you’re just plain wrong for being. Even fellow trans women join these groups under the banner of HBS and TruTrans. Then these women are weaponized against us as some asshat fuckwit cis person’s “post-op transgendered friend” who totally disagrees with how you live your life and defend your rights instead of cowering in self-hatred and shame like she does. (this may or may not have just happened to me).

It’s exhausting, as it is for all women, to have to be constantly situationally vigilant, just in case today’s your day to be the victim of some angry man’s misogynistic violence. It’s more exhausting to try to maintain whatever stealthness you are capable of in order to pass as cis and not draw out homophobic and transmisogynistic violence on top of it. 

It’s exhausting to see name after name and face after face of trans women who have been murdered, often in incredibly heinous fashion because our lives are considered disposable and unworthy, or who have committed suicide because this world is so hateful to them that it feels like the only way out.

It’s exhausting to always have to be part activist, part educator, part victim, part protector, part defense attorney and part brawler. Doesn’t leave a lot of space to just be a person.


I’m still blessed. I’m still proud to be me. I’ve still earned every shred of dignity and self-worth I’ve scraped together over the years. I’ve created myself anew from the ashes of a life spent in shame, in abuse and in fear. I have learned so much more about who I am capable of being and I have taught myself who I am. Not a lot of people can say that. These things let me rest and recover. These things let me go on.

If you’re reading this for the first time, please see the update here:

I fucked up and if you’re thinking about reblogging this, reblog the other version instead.


From the man who brought us Avengers, Firefly, Buff— wait, why are we even explaining this on Tumblr?

You know who Joss Whedon is. But did you know he wrote and produced a supernatural romance directed by Brin Hill? It’s online and available to watch right this instant, thanks to Vimeo On Demand.