Zine Release: Depression and Desire (With Bonus Old Zine)

Depression Zine Witch of Endor Piece

Link: Depression and Desire

This zine is concerned with exactly what it sounds like. It contains several pieces of digital art and three main parts. First, there is a sympathetic reading of the story of Saul and the Witch of Endor from the perspective of someone with anxiety and depression. Second, I included a piece on the problems of living with depression in a land and in a space that is also afflicted, especially focusing on environmental damage and the stress that it can cause. Finally, there is a two-page microfiction about angel-capturing monks and their ability to change the world around them.

 

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1d9t_eb5-tPAURRszuboYVwkRPlHaHEvy

I am horrified of ruins

Bonus Link: Plunge: An Agender Life

Mostly a series of discussions of issues related to (lack of) gender, visibility, and other issues to do with my own queerness. Also includes a great number of art pieces and a few essays.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1fwJuLrLATf14EXxHQp06IfnvFfKxcyLc

I hope that you enjoy them and get a lot out of them.

Surgery and Sterile Futures

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Trans surgery in Canada involves years of waiting lists, consultations, and institutional scrutiny. What makes this process especially difficult is that there is currently only one clinic in the country that is able to offer official services, i.e. ones that are covered by first-payer insurance and thus accessible to the vast majority of trans people. This very short essay outlines what I would call the eerie nature of this process, the way in which bodies are rendered uncanny and disjointed by gatekeeping and forced visibility.

For me, the sheer impregnability of the system creates a sense of foreshortened future and bodily dread. Because trans people are a tiny minority of the population, our bodies are the subject of a great deal of state scrutiny, especially because our physicians do not have any direct sympathy with our situation. Despite all of our visibility as oddities or freaks, however, our bodies are not well understood and medical procedures and treatments for us are heavily restricted and, in the case of estrogen-based hormone therapy, administered with tools designed for cis people first.

So surgery for me, despite the fact that I want it and need it for my mental health, is attached to so much baggage and bizarro-world bureaucracy that it takes on a horrific aspect. The abject uncanniness of wading through so many forms, so many appointments, so many opportunities for any spiteful physician to deny me access to care, creates a warped sense of how attainable surgery even is. And because of past trauma around my body and because of depression, my sense of the future has been dramatically compressed. The future is so uncertain that, under the lens of depression and the eerie oracular and suicidal feelings that I have, I am utterly convinced that my body will be destroyed either in surgery or well before. I am tutored by despair, possessed of a sense of grim finality.

Of course, my intellect assures me that many other people have gone through the process and come through happier than they were before. Of course this does not make me change my mind about wanting surgery. This is still my choice and I still dream about it. Even though I’m aware that surgery is not necessary for all trans people and rejecting surgery would not put my lack of gender in doubt, there is a sterility and hopelessness that dogs me throughout, an eerie desert where future possibilities either lie dormant or cannot be trusted because of persistent mirages.

I suppose there is no way through the desert except through it. And with luck I will participate in abolishing the system that creates such dread and unease. For the sake of trans people now, the gates have to fall and the bureaucracy must be abolished, along with all other impediments to real bodily freedom.

Out Like a Lamb: Day 18: The Bod and Nothing But

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Trans bodies are caught in many weird, unsolvable tangles. We’re both hyper-analyzed and poorly understood, occluded from the census and other documentation but the subject of immense reams of public policy, highly visible on the streets but reduced to awful fetishes and stereotypes. A trans body is something many cis people simply can’t make up their minds about, which has a number of disturbing implications. But I don’t want to just focus on these often traumatizing knots. I want express the bright side of being a trans body.

Though people love obsessing over trans people’s genitals, I want to start by saying that, yes, I have a penis and, yes, I use it responsibly once in awhile. The strangest part of the whole matter is that our genitals seem to pervade discussions of us, to the point where it’s truly a wonder how fixated cis people are on people’s nether realms. Our very presence is overwritten by a hyper-attention to genitalia, like when people on a desert island start to look like hot dogs and pizza to their ravenous companions. With that in mind, we usually have to insist on our asexuality or lack of eroticism to be considered appropriate for public discussion, despite the fact that straight male sexualization pervades mainstream media, even those marketed to children.

So a trans body is, by definition, outrageous to some. But I promised to attend to the benefits of trans embodiment. And one major one for me is the freedom to experiment with extravagant fashions that accentuate aspects of my body that I couldn’t before transitioning. Dressing well is certainly a pleasure in itself, but it also alleviates some of my deep-seated anxieties about looking wrong. Since I am beautifully tall, I have problems being perceived as unambiguously feminine even on my most “passable” days. My feet are large and my long arms and legs make some fits of clothing difficult to pull off. But to me there is no sense in not trying! And if I’m going to be judged inadequate no matter what I do, I might as well go all the way out there with bold colours and blatantly “artificial” colours in my makeup.

So my body is one that is sexual, that is oriented towards being flashy and attractive. At the same time, it’s important to emphasize that my body, although it’s implicated within a lot of different systems and environments, is my own. No matter what kind of body it is, it deserves respect and autonomy. And that’s probably the most valuable contribution that trans people have to make to all political tendencies that aim at liberation of people as a whole.

Out Like a Lamb: Day 17: Femme Sees, Femme Does

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Queer and trans politics are often tied into visibility, becoming politics not just of the body but of the eye in particular. Practices like “coming out,” staging mass public spectacles, and creating signals and fashions that allow us to more easily identify each other are all to some degree constitutive of this politics of the eye. Since our oppressions often revolve around being obscured from view, pressured into conformity with exclusive cis and hetero-norms, or transformed into empty spectacle by straight pornography and other media, wresting control of our own individual and collective aesthetic presentation is a way to create power for ourselves. Broad and deep social change requires other forms of action, of course. However, being visible on our own terms is a valuable and necessary goal if we’re going to reclaim public space in human communities for queer and trans people.

For me, femme is one of the most valuable forms of communal aesthetics. While it emerged in opposition to butch in the early and mid-twentieth century and continues to have a close connection with femininity as a whole, femme is not reducible to just a pole for either of these binaries. It describes a particular commons or reservoir of resources, a way of expressing ourselves for our own benefit. Femme involves individuals, and it is a means for individuals to express themselves, but it’s important to recognize that no one expresses themselves in a solipsistic void.

Doing femme, being femme, expressing femme–for me, these are acts that bring me closer to people, that make me more legible to those close to me. It’s a way of sharing myself, gifting myself, even, to ones I love and lucky people who see me on the street. Think of femme as a way of improving public and private spaces, of making our existence more beautiful! Of course, it does so using some of the tools and styles associated with womanhood and femininity, but when femme emerges in a more liberating, less confining world where genders don’t map onto binary notions, it can use those tools with an experimental and radical edge. It’s not avant-garde, and it’s not revolutionary–or it’s not necessarily those things–but femme is a term that captures my personal favourite attempts to make ourselves beautiful.

People who prefer masculine or butch aesthetics (since butch does not map directly onto masculinity as such), I suspect, experience similar pleasures. With that said, it’s true that masculine presentations are often seen as the default or preferred mode of expression in a capitalistic, cis and heteronormative world. Even within feminist circles, androgyny or masculinity might be preferred over femininity because the latter is more thickly “gendered.” Gender as a judgment or insult sticks much better to femme people than it does to those who present in a masculine fashion. I do not suggest that masculine-presenting people always or even mostly occupy an oppressive position over femme people, only that this dynamic, this was of seeing gender only in femininity, is a significant barrier to be overcome in our intimate and political circles.

As I continue to develop in my understanding of gender as a system of naming and classifying and my own position in that system, femme remains a touchstone. Though I recognize that being femme is, to some extent, the only way I can be perceived as feminine at all given my body shape and size, I remain attracted to it and excited to perform it in new and different ways.

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Out Like a Lamb: Day 16: Pink, Blue, Black, and Red

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As we draw close to the end of Out Like a Lamb, my thoughts turn to some more urgent and serious matters. I am talking, of course, about revolutionary left politics. By its nature, these politics have a universal scope within my life. I would be a fundamentally different person without my commitment to revolutionary politics.

Despite how obscure and general that sounds, I want to make sure that I communicate exactly how immediate these politics are. Ultimately, as arcane and contested anti-capitalist politics can appear, they emerge from the most elemental parts of life. This post will address where my revolutionary politics intersect with trans and queer issues, so it won’t cover anything. But, well, we have to start somewhere.

At its most basic level, communism is about removing every barrier between people and the resources they need to thrive. Capitalism is one system that acts as a barrier, since it bars people from accessing the goods they need if they don’t fit a very narrow profile of a “productive citizen.” It drains all the joy from work since it coerces people into jobs. It also treats people as mere factors in a machine, as a means to an end. States, as guarantors of private property and the locus of violence and conformity, enable capitalism to function while also disciplining those who are deemed, for any reason, socially undesirable. Whatever rights people have under a state are conditional and subject to being revoked at any time the state finds convenient. Fundamentally, people should be really enabled to make their own choices, to associate with whomever they choose, and to make collective decisions about issues they are concerned with.

This is why commitments to autonomy/anarchy and communism are mutually beneficial to each other. This is especially true, I think, for me as a trans and queer person. Under the current Canadian capitalist state, my right to express the way I want to, to do the work I want to without fear of exclusion and personal injury, are all at the mercy of the state. Political parties use us as a tool to gain leverage over people and to promote imperialist politics (save the gays by invading x country!) and promote tourism (especially in my home city).

Ultimately, trans people under capitalism are at the whims of doctors and a profit-gouging pharmaceutical industry who, again, don’t see us as fully human but rather as means to an end. Consumer products for trans people specifically are often expensive or inaccessible, and if they were made accessible under the current system they would continue to be used to forge a false trans “community.” In this case, it would be a community of consumers. But our worth as people, as ecological, physical beings in relation to each other, is not in our usefulness to one person or another but rather is intrinsic to us, just as it is for all other living things.

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Cover of a great zine  I can recommend heartily about this issue.

Revolution does not imply the ultimate resolution of all these problems, but rather a commitment in a particular direction. It is a method of looking at the world and a means to realize a more desirable, better world. It is necessary, unfortunately, because reforms are always recaptured by the system, as necessary as they might be. We can’t just get by surviving on scraps that other people give us forever. If trans people want to see a world where we can have a more fulfilling and less anxious life, with much less possibility of losing all of our gains, social and political revolution are what we need. Revolution is food, it’s hormones, it’s clothing we enjoy and want, its a beginning to healing rifts in our communities, and, perhaps most importantly, it’s creating a more healthful way for human beings to act within nature.

These are the ifs and needs that animate me when I think about revolution. Capitalism is a major support for transphobia, underwriting the sense that we are unnatural, that we cannot form “real” families, that we are useless to society, a “drain.” It’s far from the only barrier to our self-liberation as individuals and groups, but it forms the basic logic within which other oppressions weave and strike. Without capital, with our own autonomy, it becomes possible to build the worlds of solidarity and happiness we imagine.

Next three posts will be:

March 28: A post about femme things! Femme is a curious form of identifying yourself, and, I would say, not all that well understood. Bit of a history lesson before moving onto my own personal business.

March 29: About body image issues and ways that I try to sculpt the way I look for other people.

March 30: About my body itself, its permeability, the way I inhabit my environment, all that good stuff.

Out Like a Lamb: Day 15: Relationships and Lurv

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Human beings affiliate with each other for a variety of reasons, from building houses to playing sports. But when we talk about “relationships” we are usually talking about people who affiliate with each other for mutual pleasure, intimacy, and conversation. Sex, of course, is a focus of many of these relationships. Another subset of relationships get defined as “romantic,” which is a vague term I admit I don’t quite understand. For the purposes of this short post, though, “romantic” will refer to a relationship that is particularly intense, though it should not be located apart from friendship.

My personal approach to relationships and sexual affinity can be named as a practice of “relationship anarchy.” Though this is a somewhat broad and nettlesome word, it accurately describes the kinds of attitudes and practices I want to take in any given relationship as well as series of collective values that I want to see actualized on a general level. In other words, it’s a personal set of concerns and ethics while also being, I think, a loose norm towards which we should work in society as a whole. In any case, let’s see what this so-called “relationship anarchy” implies. (Keeping in mind that this is my own interpretation of a set of ideas that already existed)

At its most basic level, relationship anarchy recognizes that, while our time and space might be limited as people (and this will connect what I’m saying to broader social goals around the built environment and economic/ecological systems), our capacity to give and receive love is not. To me, it has a close cousin in the term “free love,” though the latter term has been somewhat compromised by notions of generalized promiscuity—even if that was not its original intent. Romantic and sexual love should be organized by mutual agreements and personal preference, with relationships being structures made to serve people rather than vice/versa. And every relationship is a structure that needs to be custom-built because every person at every time is a unique being. So relationship anarchy includes, depends on, an openness to change and flexibility, which makes it a challenge to implement in times where people have to work for a wage in order to survive. Our friendships and interactions with people often suffer because of worries over money and other basic subsistence concerns, complicated by the fact that we’re raised to see relationships as institutionalized, exclusive, and regulated by state bodies.

So here we have a set of basic principles: relationships are experimental, open to the future, value each member’s welfare rather than the relationship as such, and are negotiated from norms each person can assent to rather than abstractly imposed ones. I don’t say that relationship anarchy implies an absence of norms because the principles behind it are themselves norms, albeit ones that permit a more flexible idea of how people can interact with each other within a relationship of x people and those who are outside that x.

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Now we can move onto how the current, capitalist urban environment (since that’s the one I’m most familiar with) infringes on our ability to carry out these ethics. For example, say one of my partners came with me to a new city to work, while another partner met me later on and lives in a different part of the city. Even if we decide that it might be in our best interests to move into a shared space or to reduce the distance between us, rental markets and discriminatory practices put that kind of movement out of reach for many people. Lack of access to adequate food resources, time spent on commuting or in jobs that make us anxious, and the constant imposition of a built environment meant to facilitate life for people in heteronormative, monogamous consumer units (marriages, cohabitation, etc.) make realizing these ideas difficult. This is not to mention the difficulties incurred by people who fall in love or form relationships across national borders or who create relationships that are socially dangerous. I’ve attracted unfriendly stares and experienced a great deal of nervous tension when walking outside with a partner, for instance, and other people, especially those who are economically marginalized and racialized, experience far, far more heinous acts of violence.

The reality is that, although relationship anarchy could be considered by itself as an abstract blueprint for how to navigate personal affinities, its general realization depends on a social and political revolution as well as an overhaul of how economic goods are produced and distributed. Realizing this connection and working for it while also practicing good relationship ethics is vital because it will help those ethics from collapsing into a harsh moralization weaponized against anyone who doesn’t accept your standards. In the end, people’s flourishing is more important than any once conception or practice of loving and living together. None of us are complete units as individuals—to be complete is to be part of a healthy and freely chosen community, which starts at the most intimate level. But when you take a larger look, these principles lead to nothing less than the abolition of the current society and the construction of a better one.

Next three posts will be:

March 27: Politics and me. Basically about how I’ve grown through and into revolutionary politics and the kinds of projects I’d like to work on.

March 28: Femme-fatale, as I like to call it. Basically talking about what femme aesthetics and self-naming has to do with me, and why it matters on a broader scale (or doesn’t, wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise).

March 29: Third, I’ll be talking about body image issues and the ways I try to dress and trim my hair to look the way I want. How is this conditioned by coercion? We’ll find out!

Out Like a Lamb: Day 11: Holy Light, Unholy Eye

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Though I have said in the past that this post would be about my relationship to “religion,” I was mistaken. In fact, it will be about my relationship to Christianity. Though Christianity bears certain family resemblances to all other supernatural beliefs and the ritual forms and institutions that shape those beliefs, it cannot be used as a proxy for all religion. Nevertheless, my rejection of all religious affiliation occurred out of the context of my Christian belief. It is a universal departure emerging from a specific experience. It could not be otherwise.

Since I was a child, I felt an intense guilt for never “feeling” spiritual. Though I certainly would have, and did, defend my belief in orthodox Christianity, there was never a sense either of belonging in a church community or the kind of transcendent experience people seemed to lean on in moments of doubt. What was left was the adherence to the ritual forms and institutional skeleton of Christianity–the outward, mushroom bloom of individual and collective Christian belief–and the intellectual frameworks of theology. The latter crumbled much more quickly than the former. I think the social appearance of religiosity substituted for its real existence, as I fumbled my way from conservative Reformed Christianity through liberal Quakerism and Unitarianism.

Because intellectual acceptance of Christian orthodoxy is, I think, fundamentally dependent on an emotional and social attachment to Christian ritual, the outward form of belief, that belief shattered without taking the compulsive attachment to churchgoing with it. I desired acceptance from family members and some of my peers: this was my wager, the benefit I hoped to get in exchange for conformity.

As I became more and more alienated from my assigned gender and all the rigidities that imposed on me, however, the value of that conformity, or, more precisely, the appearance of it, shrank and vanished. Why should I even pretend to support or claim as co-religionists those who were materially oppressing me and those like me? Eventually, even liberal religion lost its lustre as I came to resent the shell as well as the meat of Christian belief. I realized that I was just going to a church, any church, to maintain respectability and appearances. Like many others, my attachment to religion and ritual depended on a fear of exclusion and alienation. My decision to abandon religion altogether did not result from a purely free choice on my part, but rather was informed by a calculation. It was no longer in my best interests to pretend to be religious, and I left the liberal church to which my partner and I belonged.

I have no regrets about trying to create a vision of the world that is free of supernatural transcendence or speculation about gods and souls. I was personally liberated to think in different ways and to look honestly at the terror I had been living in before.  My actual renouncement was extremely quiet and simple. I woke up one morning and knew that I was done with Christianity. I didn’t even vocalize this until a few days later. So it’s important, as I go further in this de-conversion narrative, that I emphasize how gradual and painful the post-Christian growth process has been. Epiphanies are rare. For me, it took a long time to sort out exactly what I thought about the world, and the process is far from over. In fact, what I rejected that cold spring morning was not so much a particular religion as a way of thinking and being in the world. It’s a trajectory that I could no longer see working out in the future. What would have happened had I stayed, I don’t know. But at the same time, I am quite confident that travelling in this other direction has been immensely beneficial to me.

Not that I am going to hawk atheism as a panacea or a universal solution to people’e problems. Indeed, atheists have garnered quite a reputation for cloying self-righteousness or, in more devilish forms, for forming a cult of masculine “intellect.” These bullies, often acting as shock-troopers for reactionaries online, fail to understand the true potentials of atheism. Atheism names a rejection, of course, but it is empty if fetishized and placed in a vacuum. Its liberatory potential can only be realized when it pushes in the direction of ecological, integrated, radical thinking. Rejecting God only to put gendered Man in his place is a recipe for disaster. Just as no Christian faith stands alone but is comprised of a vast concatenation of religious and philosophical traditions, layered and warped in often incoherent ways, every individual’s atheism is a multitude of small ways of becoming all pushing with or against each other. Rejection of god is, unfortunately, not always the affirmation of the good, even broadly defined.

And of course Christians and other religious adherents will always claim that atheists are in denial, that they are merely regressives who just worship “man” or “nature” in place of the real truth. Perhaps we cannot escape symbolic and sacred thinking, at least entirely. But given the generally negative impact of Christian institutions on the world, I cannot help but encourage people to disengage from them and find other avenues. Individual believers and even some isolated churches might do good, produce excellent scholarship, create vital radical theology, or otherwise enrich the world, but to me the reality is that Christianity is both unnecessary and false in its premises. We can and should live without it, while recognizing where it might, as a husk and a dead tradition, contribute to a better world.

For those who are still finding your way to live inside a religious community–even Christianity–I wish you all the best. That is a burden I could not hope to bear. Religion is complicated, woven into so many social situations and cultural traditions that it is not easily criticized or extricated as a whole. And for many it might still be nourishing, and we have much to share and speak about together. For me, however, church and religion are nothing but the names for bad memories and a kind of spiritual terror to which I was subjected. May we all find better ways, and end all oppressions done in the name of religion.

Next three posts coming up!

March 22: A post about Magic: The Gathering, current reigning champion of my hobbies and interests. Should be nerdy fun.

March 23: Discussing art is always fun for me, especially when it’s my own. This one will feature some old and new sketches and some graphic design work.

March 24: Though I’ve already addressed my position in the academy, this entry will be about some of my favourite research interests. Everything from chaos theory to economics.

Out Like a Lamb: Day 10: Depression and Anxiety

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This post will be even shorter than usual. Reasons for this are easy to come by. I don’t feel like giving a blow-by blow of my depressive episodes, nor is this topic one I feel much at liberty to discuss. So I will make this quick.

When I wake up every morning, there is no telling whether I will be able to get out of bed without extreme effort. Walking into a room with people I haven’t seen before, I can go into a panic attack and hide away. I feel awkward making eye contact, I have missed several appointments because of social anxiety and a hesitance to go outside (especially since it takes a great deal of effort to get my look together and feel confident). It’s easy to get me to cry because I slip into depressions where my self-esteem and will to move around evaporate. Even things I enjoy cannot entice, and life feels without worth.

And, guess what? I am fully capable of living a happy and fulfilling life. In fact, I manage to do just that much of the time despite my struggles. What I cannot abide is people telling me what’s best for me, as if they know what will make me happy, if I just listen to them. In no uncertain terms, to hell with that. I am the best qualified person to know what I need, even if I am not capable of solving all of my problems by myself. My input is the most important one, because only I can tell how I am actually feeling. Empathy and sympathy can only go so far, and what people need to get through their skulls is that they need to understand me on an intellectual and emotional level, and give me the autonomy to address my own issues, to reject the impulse that tells them that they know better.

Trans people, in particular, ought to be left alone to develop freely and form our own associations and ways of being in the world. Nothing makes me angrier than people who are trying to “help” but do the opposite because of their ignorance and emotional clumsiness. Good night everyone!

March 21: Tomorrow is my post dealing with all matters religious–at least ones that can be put in under 1000 words. that said, it will be one of the longer ones.

March 22: A lighter touch the day after tomorrow. Time to talk about Magic: The Gathering. My favourite hobby will come to my blog for the first time, at least in full post form.

March 23: Another fun one, this time on my art, especially drawing and poster design. Regular readers will already recognize much of the latter, but there will be fun for everyone in this post!

Out Like a Lamb: Day 9: Pride in Being Trans

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For various reasons related to schedules and lack of enthusiasm, I decided to forgo writing the promised journal on my relationship with the state . So today, I will resume my daily journaling with a brief reflection on the issue of pride. Pride has an important and enduring place in the history of LGBT people because most of us grow up and reach adulthood in a state of shame or disillusionment. It’s a point of personal pride, at least for me, that I was able to escape the harmful situation I was in and find a chosen family, friends, and colleagues who formed a tight-kniot community around me.

Pride is nost just used in this broader and more commonplace sense, however. Rather, iLGBT people use it as a descriptor of our positive affirmation of ourselves and out identities. Since we are widely stigmatized by religious organizations and other mainstream social structures, we are often treated poorly, as if our very being should be a source of shame and self-hatred. In fact, whole institutions of “re-education” were founded on these principles.Pride is, therefore, not just a passive sense of contentment or self-affirmation but a deliberate and political act, a small way o counteracting the influence of this social stigma on us. In the same way that coming out, establishing ourselves as visible and present, is a form of political activity, asserting our own pride is a way of giving minor support to people like us, hoping to help younger people realize that their parents’ or peers’ denigrations are utterly false and unfounded.

Even in their most degraded and corporatized forms, Pride parades and associated events still serve the ongoing purpose of establishing that we are just people capable and indeed predisposed to living happy and productive lives. They can have the effect of masking the harsh reality of being queer or trans, of course, but just as there are feasts of mourning and feasts of celebration, we use Pride as a ritual culmination for another hard year lived, a recognition that we have endured much and yet lived.

There are various reasons why I don’t enjoy mainstream public expressions of pride, from social anxiety to my political objections to the commodification and depoliticization of these events. Personally, however, my own sense of pride is a hard-won aspect of my personality. It’s a way of marking my own accomplishments, whether in my transition or just in day-to-day activities. In spite of the fact that people’s refusal or inability (these are often one and the same) to accept and affirm me has caused me a great deal of pain and hurt, there is, at the core, a sense that my life is worth living and that I am valid. Whether I express this in vocal or aesthetic ways (as in this blog) or just whisper it to myself when I feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, pride in being trans, in being other-than the norm, in looking for and at last finding another, better life each day, is a cornerstone of how I exist in the world today. And, luckily, I get to share that sense of pride with a beautiful group of people who understand and love me. These are the people I hold fast to in moments or periods of bleak depression, the ones to whom I owe my very life.

And now the next three days’ worth of posts. Let’s hope there are no more interruptions!

March 20: A counterpoint to today’s focus on pride and love, tomorrow will be about those dark moments, the times where I have felt depressed or anxious or even self-destructive.

March 21: This post will be a look at my relationship with religion and religious institutions. It will be somewhat longer than usual but it will have some insights I haven’t fully expressed to most people before. So it will be fun!

March 22: At last, I will dedicate an entire day’s entry to my favourite hobby of the moment, Magic: The Gathering. Nerdier than you can properly express and a source of aesthetic and even personal fulfillment, Magic has become an integral part of my life in many ways.

Out Like a Lamb: Day 7: Academic Trans Girl Blues

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I had a rather trying day today. One of my classmates, an older fellow who attends the same environmental history seminar, misgendered me in front of the rest of the class. This is not only embarrassing, since I had to interrupt him to correct his mistake, but deeply tiring. Whether the problem arose from ignorance, carelessness, or malice, the event dragged my mood down and cast a pall over the rest of the day.

My relationship to my classmates is uneven and somewhat odd. Only one person has come up to me and asked if I’m trans. Though I think many of the students in my seminars understand, I’m not sure that everyone does, and there are odd moments where someone I rather like refers to me as if I’m a guy. This is despite presenting in an overtly feminine way, having visible breasts, wearing makeup pretty well, etc. etc. Again, I am left unsure of the source of these instances of misgendering. They’ve only known me by my actual name, and I’ve repeatedly and obviously used she and her to refer to myself in jest. Though I make little effort to shift my voice, I would think that the message would still sink in.

Rather oddly, in fact, I have had a much better time interacting with my professors and supervisors. Actually, the university itself recognizes me by my actual gender and name and not my dead one––though for legal purposes they keep my legal dead name on file for now––making it, on average, better at understanding who I am than my classmates are. Not everyone is able to experience even this limited form of autonomy and security, of course, but in my case it’s greatly appreciated.

Academia as a whole is something of a fool’s game at the moment, but for a young trans woman it has its pleasures and rewards. I have been able to spend a great deal of my time researching gender and queer theory, getting a broad view of what people like me in various contexts have said about our individual and collective lives. In that respect, my career in academia has been personally enriching. I’m also excited to be pushing boundaries within the historical profession, both as a trans woman hoping to achieve some notoriety and for my specific theoretical interventions. After all, even though my experience as a trans person shapes all of my experiences and interests, I’m not primarily interested in gender or transness as my scholarly topic (I actually specifically avoided it). Trans and nonbinary people should be able to make contributions to any of their chosen subjects, and I’m looking forward to living in a world where more of my colleagues and compatriots are trans. Despite knowing that that kind of identity politics is not ultimately productive, there is still a sense within me that my life would be better if more people who better understood me sat next to me in classes and lectures.

Academia as we know it is already slipping away under corporatization measures and the pressures of the institutions and communities it’s meant to serve. I will certainly contribute, in the future, to seeing how we can produce a new set of educational institutions that can serve students, local contexts, and workers much better than the current one. For the meantime, however, I’m content to avoid the windowless department common room and ensure I’m not just hanging out with other academics all the time.

The next three days of posts shall be:

March 18: My relationship with the state and the law. I break it all down.

March 19: How I take pride in being trans and attempt to build positive affiliations with people around our identities or lack thereof.

March 20: The big 2-0 will be a sad day, talking about my chronic struggles with depression, anxiety, and thinking in ways that are not recognizable to some people.