twigface

#myvanityfaircover

Obviously, this “meme” isn’t meant for me. I’m a trans man, I’m white, I come from a middle-class family that does support me. I’m not the demographic asking for support through this movement. 

But I wanted to feel a bit better about myself. I’ve had an awful day, full of being called “pretty” and “a lovely young woman” and having children be told they’re wrong when they call me a boy. I am in pain, having a flare up. I am tired, worn out from aforementioned pain. And I’m having one of those days where it feels like I’m never going to be “read” male. That I’m going to be misgendered and misnamed forever. 

My narrative isn’t clean, exactly. It’s full of confusion about my gender and sexuality, so much that I didn’t know I was trans until I was about 17- not for sure, not 100% affirmed. It’s full of breakdowns, scared smiles and taking back truths, tight lying nods when people call me a pretty young lady. It’s full of being too scared and paranoid to tell people the one thing that needs to be said. 

I don’t have a lot of money. I haven’t started transitioning medically, yet. I’ll probably never pass, and I’ll be a scrawny little boy forever. I probably won’t be one of the lucky men that grow a beard like a lumberjack and get a voice like a thunderstorm. I know this. It’s constantly reaffirmed by people I know. I know I’ll never “be a man” to some of the people it means most for me to. 

I’m disabled, I’m autistic, I’m scared all the time. I’m not much, I’m not important, and I’ll never be on the cover of a magazine (unless that’s “loser’s weekly”). But knowing Mrs Jenner is on the cover of one, knowing Ms Cox was on the cover of “Time” before her, that helps. It makes me feel a little less outcast and a little more like I’m not a buzzword. 

I don’t know. This really earns the tag “shut up kan.”

2

tonight is my brother’s prom, and incidentally, two years on the nose since the first picture was taken.

I wanted a tuxedo for prom. I wasn’t allowed it. I picked a dress that looked lovely, and that I liked, even though the idea of wearing it made me go eCHH. Now I look at this picture and just marvel at how much I kind of look like an awkward drag queen.

Conversely, the second picture was a few months ago, and features me looking like a slightly confused male model. Vast improvement.