#it's both a very nice environment (cool queer people) but sometimes it's a bit hard to talk about gender | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashtrayfloors · 3 years

Text

Things I forgot to say in my last post, + some new things:

1. On that trip to SF/Oakland where I met P., I performed at an event called the Big Gay Cabaret. (That’s when I mainly performed music, both after and before my spoken word years, but I digress.) Part of the reason I made the trip out there at that time was so I could be part of the BGC. Now, the organizers called it that because there’s a nice rhyme to “Big Gay Cabaret;” ostensibly it was an event for all us LGBTQIA+ folks. After the fact, I heard that some of the organizers complained that not all the performers were “queer enough,” and I’m pretty sure I was the most egregiously “not queer enough” performer. I was wearing a very “girly” dress that night, and I played a song I’d written about P.—I introduced it by saying: “This is for someone who’s in the audience. Hopefully he won’t run screaming away when he hears it.” So, yes, I was very feminine-presenting and mentioned that the song was about a “he,” but like: the song itself didn’t have any pronouns in it, so it could’ve been about anyone of any gender. Not to mention, they didn’t know my gender identity and sexual orientation, or P.’s. For all they knew, P. could’ve been bi or non-binary or trans, and I’m bisexual and non-binary, no matter what I look like or who I’m with. Yeah, I wear dresses and fuck dudes sometimes. Still here, still queer, get over it! That whole thing made me a little salty. But whatever, the other performers dug my shit, and after the cabaret a group of us went to a burlesque show, and P. and I drank absinthe, and a bunch of half-naked burlesque girls told me I was gorgeous, and when we went outside to smoke P. let me wear his leather jacket (because June in San Francisco is cold) and he took a photo of me that’s one of my favorite photos of me, ever, and then later that night I told him I loved him.

2. Last week, on a night when I couldn’t sleep because it was too hot, I was sitting out on our back steps, and I saw a shooting star flash its green length partway across the sky before disappearing. (Yes, I made a wish.)

3. Our date on Saturday was really nice. It was so good to be out in the world. There was hardly anyone else in the bar we went to, and the staff are all fully vaccinated (they have a sign on their door stating so) and so are we, so we got to sit at the bar, and talk to the owners, and oh my god! A conversation with other humans not in my pod! In a bar! And we loitered a bit in my favorite alley (what, you don’t have a favorite alley?), taking photos and looking at all the scratchings people had left. I saw the names of three old flames, all of whom were people I met and fell for in ‘03 or ‘04, which is a time period I have been thinking and writing about a lot lately, and it felt a bit spooky. Later on, we sat out on our patio, and our neighbors across the street were having a graduation party for their son, and they had a DJ spinning old soul and R&B, and so we got to enjoy their music while we sipped our fancy cocktails.

4. I love that people are having parties again, and going out again (I know, some people never stopped doing those things, but I am talking about the world-at-large), but I hate the uptick in mass shootings that has come with it. I’m no longer so scared of catching CoViD when I go to a store, but I am now, once again, scared of getting shot. Fuck the NRA and all the politicians who are paid off by them to further their agenda. That’s all I’ll say about it for now, or I’ll get too angry and upset.

5. Saturday night, I had another intense dream. This one wasn’t sexy or fun-weird or even melancholy, no, this one was straight-up horrific. It involved a cursed house, and floods, and murder, and suicide, and the murders and suicides were extremely graphic. It’s been a while since I’ve had a nightmare like that. I used to have graphically horrific nightmares at least once a month, if not more, and thank god they’re more infrequent now—but when I do get them, oh, they’re still just as awful as they ever were. Sometimes horror films don’t do it for me because my subconscious creates way more horrific stuff on its own. Maybe this is a sign that I need to start writing horror. If I could create a discernible plot to go with my dream from Saturday night, it would make a pretty damn good piece of horror fiction.

6. My area is going through a terrible drought; the worst we’ve had in about 16 years. I hate it because it’s ruining crops, and I worry about the environment, but I also hate it on a personal level. I love summer rainstorms, and I love walking barefoot in the grass when it’s all lush and cool and soft—but right now it’s dry and brown and dead and scratches my feet. I’ve been doing rain-summoning spells and I guess they worked a little bit—rain wasn’t in the forecast for today but wind and dark clouds came up out of nowhere about an hour ago. I stood out in the backyard and talked to the sky, and it did rain. It rained hard, but only for about 15 minutes. Better than nothing, and I immediately threw all the windows open because that is another thing I’ve been missing—the smell of rain on dirt, the smell of rain on hot pavement. I’m going to continue with my spells; the more I do them, the more rain they’ll bring.

7. One of the best things about being full vaccinated, and this summer as opposed to last summer, is that, though my allergies and sinus issues are in full effect, I don’t freak out thinking I have CoViD every time I have the slightest tickle in my throat.

8. Last night, I was scrolling through my Instagram feed, and noticed a post from N.—photos of who she was hanging out with. And one of those people was D.S. When I knew N., she lived in Wisconsin. And when I knew D.S., he lived in Austin. Now they’re both in New Orleans. N. was an almost-lover of mine, and D.S. was a lover of mine (and in fact he asked me to move to Austin to be with him, and I did consider it at one point). It just freaked me out, because—I’ve often been accused of holding onto the past, but even when I’ve let it go, I inevitably get reminded of it. This isn’t the first time (not even close) that people I know from completely different times and places encounter each other without my introducing them. Is it that I’ve had too many lovers/almost-lovers and not enough friends, or is it just a small fucking world? Anyway, after I saw that, P. and I were trying to be intimate, and I had a hard time getting into it because I was thinking about N. and S. and— It’s not that I was wishing to be with either one of them, truly. N. and I have become great friends and I no longer have romantic feelings for her; I barely think about D.S. these days, and when I do, it’s only as an amusing anecdote from my misspent youth. It’s just that I felt haunted by, to quote Lynda Hull, that vast hotel, the past. And I recently read 100 Boyfriends by Brontez Purnell, and the whole concept of that book is that, when you’re in a room with a lover, both of you bring all your ghosts with you. Queue the Laura Marling: these are just ghosts that broke my heart before I met you.

0 notes

jumpinjulianofnorwich · 6 years

Text

Anyway some actual thoughts on the most recent Check Please! update.

This holiday has been kind of a rough one emotionally for me. I’ve been in a relationship for a little over a year (weirdly just a little bit more than the amount of time Bitty and Jack have been together) and I’m at the point where I think we’re compatible enough, and love each other enough that yeah ok this could be a legitimate, long term thing. And depending on how the stuff pans out we might be at the point next year where spending any free time we have together (i.e. holidays that involve a lot of family) might become very important.

Thinking about this has been incredibly emotional because holy hell fuck families sometimes. And I should clarify-we both have met each other’s parents and they’re cool with our relationship but I can already see the look of “Really? You have to do this now?” that is going to come over my mom’s face when I propose that my girlfriend joins us for the holidays (or that I go to hers.) Because sure it’s one thing when your girlfriend wants to come in for a weekend in the summer, but it’s another thing when she wants to come for Christmas and you have to explain to the entire family that “Hey our kid is gay and has been in a relationship for however long and now her girlfriend is coming to Christmas so please don’t say anything offensive!” Of course, when you’re Mom says “I don’t think that’s a great idea” or “What if she comes down early but leaves before Christmas?” and you push back you’re the one being unreasonable. Of course, when your homophobic Uncle Carl (I shit you not the uncle most likely to be a homophobe is named Carl) says something that makes your girlfriend uncomfortable and you push back you are the one ruining Christmas. Of course, when you point out that none of this would be happening if you had a boyfriend and maybe you should think about what this says about our family, you’re being too political or too callous or too hard on them.

The point is being in a queer relationship requires a fuckton of emotional labor for the sake of other people who, you know, aren’t actually a part of the relationship that straight folks just don’t have to deal with. It comes with its own fun set of family-induced anxieties. It comes with the realization that even your accepting family members would prefer that you just pretend your love life doesn’t exist so that they can avoid the dreaded family drama™ and if the drama™ does happen you know it’s sure as fuck not going to be Uncle Carl that gets the blame.

All of that is to say is that Bitty and Jack’s kiss was a giant fuck you to all of that work. It was a fuck you to prioritizing the comfort and convenience of straight people in your life over pursuing your own happiness and fulfillment. Would it have been nice for Jack to send Georgia a heads up? Eh maybe? But only because Georgia is a woman of color in a white male environment who fought to get Jack on the Falcs in the first place and actively tries to make the NHL less homophobic, so it’s reasonable to think any fall out from this would go unfairly to her. My reaction though is more one of sympathy and less one of thinking Jack owes her anything. But they don’t owe the Falcs anything. They don’t owe Bitty’s parents anything. They don’t anyone an easy out (get it? Get itttt?) here.

Basically, queer people should not have to constantly be doing the work of heading off homophobia at every fucking insidious, subtle pass so our straight friends don’t have to confront it. Do we have to do that a lot for our own survival and occasionally to pursue our dreams? Yes! (And boy howdy, I’m not super invested in the guy, but could I talk about Kent Parson here!) But sometimes, shoot do we just want to kiss our partners on national television, consequences be damned! (My all over the place emotional queer ass was chanting “Ruin those holidays! Ruin those holidays!” in the vein of Mallory Ortberg throughout that entire update.)

Merry fucking gay Christmas y’all.

#wow so this is the most personal thing I've ever posted #Check Please!#omgcp #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #this...might get deleted later depending on how I feel after sleeping on it #tw homophobia #like if I'm being honest I don't even think the comic is that good?#but yes I love it enough that I'm projecting onto it SORRY EVERYONE!

61 notes · View notes

thnksfrthblg · 4 years

Text

A candid interview with Dream Nails

Earlier this year I had the opportunity to interview DIY feminist punk band Dream Nails ahead of the release of their self-titled debut album. This is the full interview, part of which was published in April 2020′s issue of Upset Magazine. Enjoy!

The members of Dream Nails, vocalist Janey Starling, guitarist Anya Pearson, bassist Mimi Jasson and drummer Lucy Katz are all sitting in an Indian restaurant on a gloomy Tuesday evening in Islington. It’s ridiculously cramped, noisy and they are all tightly squeezed around a table, but they don’t mind. They’ve got beer with them, plates full of food and are beaming, wide-eyed, giggly and excited as they are on the brink of releasing their debut record, which has been a labour of love for the past five years.

Janey and Anya first met in the summer of 2015 through feminist direct action (“when loads of shit was kicking off” according to Janey), which involves breaking the law to protest against government cuts to women's refuges. Even before their official inception Dream Nails’ intersectional ethos was rife.

This was followed by Lucy who answered a Facebook ad, and joined the band the year after, with Mimi completing the outfit in August 2017. “Me and her [Mimi] knew each other from Gumtree, and a previous band that we were in for one gig only, which was in my kitchen.” Lucy laughs.

Dream Nails are fundamentally a feminist punk band, and the decision to have that message at their core was a no brainer, “it was the only music we wanted to make, and it was the most important music. It felt like the exact right time to start a feminist band.” Anya says.

Before Dream Nails, Janey and Lucy hadn’t been in bands, but that seemed to be the perfect set-up for them, “I guess that's why I was so excited by punk.” explains Lucy, “Punk is by no means my favourite genre, I don't listen to that much punk, we listen to soul, jazz and pop. When I first started playing drums I did it because I always thought it was cool and always wanted to play, and never had the confidence. Punk seemed like a genre where enthusiasm could make up for what you lack in technical skill. I think that's why it's such a good genre, it’s a forgiving genre for musicians who don't feel technically very skilled yet. With punk it’s not just about being a musician it's about us, and you and your crowd, and what you're doing collectively together.”

Janey continues, “I think there's an infrastructure that music has, [it’s] really important to harness spaces for collective rage and joy, especially for queer women and non-binary people. That's always been one of our intentions because to be a live band it's not just about the music through your headphones, it's about the atmosphere at the gigs, all the women and non-binary people to the front, and creating the physical spaces actually feels like survival.”

The debut record sees Dream Nails’ release their music on a label for the first time, and despite now being a signed band, they’re still very much a DIY punk band.

“Even though we've made that transition from unsigned to signed, we are still self-managed. In some ways we are still in control of our creative logistical world...we spent a long time choosing the right producer that would let us keep our sound, but put it on steroids. It's still sounding raw, still melded together from four individuals with a lot of personality, but it has this bigger and deeper sheen on it.” Anya admits.

“Compared to our previous recording experiences which were quite minimal, to going into a studio with a professional studio with a label behind us, it was really nerve-wracking,” Lucy adds.

“But we all just levelled up so hard and practised insane amounts, just making sure that when we got in the studio we were as comfortable as possible, and I think it shows on the record. “

Anya smiles, “We worked with [ex Spring King frontman] Tarek Musa, our label introduced us to him. It was a pretty good match, it was like going on a blind date! Long email exchange, swapping musical interests, skyping and getting to know each other. We went to Liverpool and did two big sessions in the studio up there.”

“I think what a lot of people don't realise is it's not just what comes out of the band, but also the inner workings of it.” Janey continues. “It's actually taken us five years from our inception to save up to actually record our first album. It's expensive if you don't have rich parents or a label funding all the costs, which is bullshit anyway because it means they own your music, and as musicians we didn't want that to happen. We own 100% all the rights to our music, and that's only because we took the time to save up ourselves and over that period our politics have matured, our sound has matured, we've levelled up as musicians. Questioning the urgency and quick turnaround of the music industry has really been quite subversive in the way we make our music.”

"It’s really important to us as queer feminist musicians that we have 100% direction on what we do and what's really nice and is a gesture of solidarity is that Alcopop will just back us and give label weight to what we are doing and saying.”

And that’s exactly what their debut feels like, 100% Dream Nails, authentically and unapologetically. From the lyrical nature of the tracks to the fact they all sing on the record, it’s something they’ve put every ounce of themselves into and worked tirelessly over (their work ethic is to be applauded, as they meticulously go through a contract at the end of the interview). One noticeable factor that gives the album a special Dream Nails twist is that there are several skits featured throughout, born from the fact they are 90s kids. Their favourite skit is a secret track only available on physical formats, “it means they have to buy the vinyl!” Janey grins.

Anya goes onto explain why they included them, “We all grew up with albums that had joke skits on them, especially hip-hop. Also, we always do loads of Instagram stories when we are on tour which are quite erratic and weird. We wanted to capture the jokes, personality, and politics of our stories on the record. It adds a bit of context and colour, and we just couldn't really help ourselves.”

A particularly powerful moment on the album is the prelude to ‘Kiss My Fist’, which takes a snippet of a news report from when a queer couple were attacked on a London bus (the photo of the attack later went viral on social media).

“We wrote that song in response to those attacks, we all came into practice saying “Did you see what happened to that queer couple?” We were really stunned and the conversation just turned to how fucked it was that men watch so much lesbian porn, and then they'd go and beat queer women in the street.” Anya says.

“We included it in the album because the album in a lot of ways is just like a snapshot of queer political feminist culture right now. For fans and audiences who aren't in the UK, who might not have known about it, it's something that grounds it in our very real lived experience.” Janey explains.

Anya continues, “We have a lot of jokes on the album, but we have a lot of anger in response to fear, and in a way that shows where some of the fear comes from. It's there, and it's in the song ‘Payback’, which is about experiencing sexual violence, so that's the context we operate in, that's something we worry about.”

But how do they manage to get the balance of addressing these serious issues, whilst still remaining fun and humorous?

“I think we try really hard to make it balanced because we wanna be fun as well, but we also have so much to say that's angry.” Mimi says. “It shouldn't be that way like we are political and we can only be angry, because all the bands we loved growing up were fun, all men and pop punk bands. They're allowed to be funny, they have nothing to worry about. So it's quite political for us to be funny as well.”

Lucy agrees, “I feel the fun and the seriousness, or the focus on wider political issues, come from the same source. It's just different manifestations, one is anger and one is our response to that anger. Also celebratory as much as we can, like creating a live event which is fun and something that people want to be a part of, and then using that as a way to talk about serious issues as well.”

“I don't think rage and joy are mutually exclusive emotions, they're both very powerful collectively as well, and it's been a thread that's been throughout our whole trajectory.” Janey adds.

The live environment is where Dream Nails thrive, not only do they throw one helluva party, but they have a policy at all of their shows where women and non-binary people stand at the front.

“It's definitely a tribute to our riot grrrl foresisters,” Janey explains, “but the experience of being a feminist musician on stage, where we’ve written all of these powerful songs because we didn’t have music like that to listen to [growing up]...and then when you get on stage there’s a line of men drinking beer trying to take pictures of your legs...” she scoffs.

“What's really important is shaping those cultural spaces which music operates within, to centre women and non-binary people. One, it's political and it's an act of solidarity and allyship, two, it's just more fun for the crowd and for us. Sometimes it's a bit of a battle, but the reason we keep doing it and we feel an urgency is because gigs are so drastically different when we do.”

“One of the things we’re doing is working with music venues to make them more safe, not just for our show but we’ll challenge them - do they do good night out policies? We’re trying to engender a bit more change around us not just within our own fan group.” Anya says.

Lucy continues, “Hopefully as we become more available in the mainstream, and out there on radio and media in general, we want to become as inclusive as possible and we want everyone to enjoy our music, but at the same time, we’re not going to suffer fools. We educate in a way that if you can be a good ally and be respectful, you will definitely get a lot out of our music, you’ll learn something and have a lot of fun, but if you're going to come to our shows and insist on standing at the front, you're going to get kicked in the face and we’re not going to play until you move.”

“Most of our Spotify listeners our men…” Anya quips.

“Which is cool!” exclaims Janey, “there's a big difference in being welcome and then something being for you, and it's definitely a case of everyone is welcome at our shows, but we are very much for women and non-binary people. We just came off tour with Anti-Flag, and their fanbase is very male, typically punk, and it felt really subversive to be in front of hundreds and hundreds of big men, talking about rape, talking about the criminal justice system, the fact not all women have vaginas, and that queer people get beaten up on the street, and using that music in that infrastructure to an audience who would never tune into it otherwise.”

For the most part, crowds are welcoming to the band’s forthright persona, and prioritising of women and non-binary people at their shows. However, there have been many cases where crowds aren’t receptive. Mimi discusses a frightening time when the band were playing a show in Brighton, and a male crowd member wouldn’t move from the front. The band didn’t play and a physical fight broke out. “When stuff like that happens you feel so vulnerable. It's not about him being at the front, it's about him being in control.” Mimi says,

“Every time that happens, it proves our point about male entitlement to space.” Janey adds.

There are aggressions that aren’t so obvious too. Lucy recalls numerous times when they’ve been turned away from backstage entrances at gigs they’re playing at, “Mimi and Anya have guitars on their back and AAA wristbands on.” she says exasperatedly.

In hindsight, as shitty as the experiences are, Dream Nails have translated them into colourful songs filled with emotional intelligence, witty humour and most importantly defiant strength.

“Listening to the whole album, it’s banger after banger, and we just put so much work into it. I feel proud of the work in practice and songwriting, and also playing live and touring. We did it in less than two weeks.” Mimi says.

“We live and die on our spreadsheets...we did it all ourselves. We are all working together to make an album ourselves and the sheer hard graft...we aren't like whoopsie daisy, we uploaded something to Soundcloud and got discovered. It's just a myth, we worked for years.” Anya says.

“It’s ugly!” Janey declares. But the end result is undeniably beautiful.

#interview #dream nails #feminist #diy #punk

0 notes

yoija · 5 years

Text

My Health 2016-2018

12/19/18

There’s a lot to uncover here. I do a lot of self-reflection so I’ve realized a lot about myself and my past and why I am the way I am. This post is to record how I feel about it current day, as a third year college student. I’m not really that articulate, but I’ll try my best here. It’s very long.

In 2016, I had just graduated high school and was in the process of transitioning to college: from an overbearingly protective and stubborn yet loving mother to completely new social environment. I lost contact with many of my old friends. My major started off as Neuroscience & Physiology (which falls under biology) because I fell into the pressures of becoming a doctor. Mentally, I had an incredibly difficult time especially my first year.

Transitioning from a high school where over half of the students qualified for free or reduced food to a (semi-)prestigious UC in STEM? Fucking hard. I remember on my UC application, they asked whether our school had access to resources. I mean, it’s the only thing I know, so I thought the several AP classes and minimal counselor guidance we had at Yerba Buena High School were enough. Of course it wasn’t. We were often belittled by teachers subliminally and it influenced us (or at least, me) to prefer to be less articulate because I was afraid I would use it wrong or what not. I’m from the bay, so hip hop and slang culture was considered cool. Who the fuck wanted to be a nerd? I was too intimidated and scared to be articulate. This lead to not practicing academic language and analyzing on the spot. I hated asking questions, but I realized in college people say dumb shit all the time so I don’t even know why I was so afraid of being wrong. Also, at home, I was silenced a lot by my mom. It pushed me even more to stay quiet and just do things that made me feel smart, or rather to hide that I felt dumb. Hiding clickers. Not asking questions. Leaving discussion right away instead of asking questions. In high school, it was cool to not ask questions and not care about school.

I felt so out of place at UCSD. I couldn’t speak the way that they spoke. It’s not that I’m not smart. I do believe I am. But I felt I didn’t have that practice of being WRONG, so it prevented me from being right. Maybe it was just me being insecure rather than my upbringing. Who knows. There are tons of articulate people unafraid to ask questions from my high school so maybe I’m making excuses. I was already struggling with academics because I just wanted to feel like I belonged and I didn’t ask questions and it was dumb not to.

Fall quarter - I believe I had mostly Cs and a B. Felt like a damn failure. All the times my teachers and mom and relatives told me I was smart? You were all wrong. I found solace in games. I started this game, Latale, when I was 10. I’ve played it on and off, but I went back to it beginning of Fall since I could escape my academics. I even made friends. I was really able to connect with someone from the guild–Jeff. I might’ve even had a small crush on him. He had a crush on this other girl, sang a song for her that he sent to me for quality check.Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae. I continued to talked to my guildies during the break as I cut ties with many of my high school friends for other reasons. The end of winter break came. I went back to school. A message from our Discord from someone who came on not so frequently: “Hey, I’m Jeff’s irl friend. I just wanted to let you guys know since I know he was close with you guys that he had a heart attack and died yesterday.”

I spiraled into a depression. I couldn’t even fathom it until two weeks later when I eventually broke down and sobbed for hours. I didn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t. It was just. So hard. I didn’t know him for long, sure, whatever. Internet friend. But he was the only stagnant aspect of my life since I was in high school. I barely talked to my old high school friends when I was in college. I wasn’t close to the one friend I had in San Diego. I had Jeff, and my guildies. Then, Jeff was gone. I had no one. Truly, no one.

Did I even want to be a doctor? Did I even like STEM? I felt so worthless. I felt like I was worth absolutely NOTHING. No one checked up on me. No one said anything to me. I tried joining clubs. I already had social anxiety, so it really didn’t help. I started focusing on working out a bit, but honestly, my depression really took over. I hated what I was learning. I felt alone. I was alone. No one really knew or understood me. I was also queer (pan) and didn’t really come to terms with it.

Somehow I got my first A in BILD 3: Environmental science. Right at the end - spring quarter. My GPA was 3.6 for spring, and I took STEM classes! I was so happy. I’ve always loved learning about environmental science. I started thinking about switching, but it wasn’t economical. But that’s when it began: maybe I shouldn’t be a doctor. Summer came, got a job at Target which was right next to the Hillsdale 24 hour fitness gym. That summer I gymmed with Isabelle from 12-4 am sometimes. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we’d be productive. I got more into cardio.

Started my second year of college. I was already in the habit of gymming. It wasn’t a hassle for me. Fall quarter, I joined VSA. Met really fucking cool people. Finally I had friends. I became close to mostly 4 people in Fall/Winter: Valerie, Thuy, Ashley, & Nick.

1. Valerie is really similar to me. I see a lot of myself in her. Has this really excitable and dorky, sometimes childish and overly cute, outer layer. Though I didn’t really see the appeal at first (probably because I used to do that and I didn’t like myself for it), I found out we had a lot in common. We eat vegetarian sometimes, we both like to create. We’re both gay but usually go for guys. Also, she was a theatre major. The first creative/art major I actually got to know. I’ll get more into it later. Though she and I share many insecurities, she is quite confident in her decisions and inspires me to be confident in myself as well.

2. Thuy, who came from an art high school and dresses up really well. Wild colors with short hair. A ball of fury and intelligence and passion. CS major. Fucking smart. Witty and funny. Gay as hell. I got really close with Thuy because sometimes I speak in circles yet she really understands exactly what I’m saying. She doesn’t downplay my intelligence. We see eye to eye often.

3. Ashley, fucking hilarious and really smart. Texan. Gay as fuck too. Cultured in the arts. She also sees eye-to-eye and honestly really inspires me to speak my mind and not be afraid of being humorous and satirical while also being smart. Also, Ashley and Thuy were people who love RPDR, which is problematically my favorite show. An outlet, thank god. We don’t talk often, but when we do it’s really fucking good and below the surface. I can always depend on her to spill tea but also get really deep and fulfilling conversations.

4. Nick is stupid at times, but he is really inspiring for his physical journey. I can talk to him because he really reminds me of some people back home. He’s really dumb and goofy like them too, so it’s nice not to be so surrounded by people afraid to be dumb (UC kids).

Anyway, the culmination of their presence really influenced me to find myself. I began thinking about not being STEM. At this point, I worked out whenever I had anxiety which was often. While I was making physical progress on my body (at my peak, I was ~170 lbs at 5′5″/5′6″), I saw myself making mental progress. Nearing the end of winter quarter, I gained a lot of confidence in myself because of the people around me. I became more confident in my art. I never pursued it because I was adamantly STEM (I had pressures from old friends to stay in STEM too), so anytime I felt my art was bad, I told myself, “It’s just a hobby. I’m not serious about it so that’s why it’s bad.”

Nearing the end of winter quarter, I had a huge mental breakdown. I started ochem and physics and lab. I just couldn’t take it. I could never work in a lab environment, and you won’t make it into pharm/medical school if you don’t want to be a pharmacist or doctor. I talked to Valerie about hating STEM and maybe thinking about switching right before a meeting runthrough.

I was a VSA intern, and after runthrough I couldn’t make it to GBM. I had to leave. I immediately went to Geisel. I had the biggest anxiety attack I’ve ever had in my life. Hyperventilating, extremely high heart rate. Grinding my nails into my skin. I couldn’t be STEM. I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to be in research. I hate labs. I had a hookup phase here. Honestly I just wanted intimacy, but people wanted more. But at the same time, I really wanted to feel.. wanted. I had felt so alone for so long. It was nice now that people considered me pretty and wanted me. That was toxic for me, but it continued.

My GPA was ok. 3.1. I’m sure I could’ve graduated on time and everything if I had pursued STEM. But my work ethic, it just wasn’t there. I had no motivation to study, ever. I felt dumb, but I realized maybe- 1. okay, admittedly, I’m not the smartest, so I do have to work for knowledge but 2. my work ethic reflected my desire for this career.

I knew it was time for a change. I considered being an environmental science major. I thought I’d at least stay in STEM and get a BS while working on my art because art can be improved anytime. I switched to being a media major 2 weeks later because I realized I just wanted to use my time in college while my housing and education is covered to truly work on my art.

I started dressing the way I wanted to- loud and proud. Bright. Unapologetically confident. Feminine. Masculine. I learned about cameras. I learned about editing. Around this time, I met my current boyfriend. One of the people I began hooking up with but ended up really liking, duh. He’s also really creative and artistic and dresses well, which also inspired/influenced me to do the same.

I ended spring quarter as a media major, but I began the summer as a vis art speculative design major. I started working for CAIDA, the supercomputer center at UCSD as a graphic design assistant. I worked with 88Rising as a marketing ambassador for UCSD. I took creative classes like photography. I bought the Adobe Creative Suite.

I really began to develop my art. Taking VIS 1 was great because I even got to practice my drawing, and I realized I don’t want to draw for a living. Though it’s a fun hobby, I find the most joy from working as a graphic designer and editor. I don’t know much about cinematography (and it’s a facet of art I’d like to improve on), but editing? So. Fucking. Fun.

My work ethic is way better now. It might just be that art is “easier,” but is it really? It takes a long ass fucking time to study and improve art, just like it takes a long ass time to study for and understand STEM concepts. Art and STEM both contribute significantly to society and culture and advancements in the two. I struggled with becoming an art major because of the stigma of it being easy. But I now find myself confident to be an art major.

Because of my consistent physical progress, I realized that small bits day by day do a huge difference in years. I recently posted a 2016 vs 2018 body picture and people see how significant it is.

Yes, working out and gymming can be really superficial. Yes, I am becoming more aligned with society’s standards of beautiful and in that way I’m contributing to the toxicity of body image. I still get body dysphoria since my relatives used to call me fat and told me to work out. But to me, working out was a way to ingrain in my mind that no matter what you do, as long as you’re doing something to progress, you will make changes in your life. Changes toward your goals.

I slowly have reached my small goals of body image. Why not with art? I’m not where I want to be. I don’t know anything about cameras, After Effects, InDesign. I barely learned Illustrator and Premiere this summer. And here I am, doing fucking amazing. Not the best art, but I have definitely. Definitely. Come a long way from the beginning of the SUMMER, when I had just started taking it seriously. Who’s to say 5 years from now I won’t be working on high budget movies making their effects? Or making posters for Nike? Working in some company making graphics or videos?

Physically, I have ingrained going to the gym as a lifestyle change. I love that I can eat and feel healthy and sometimes still indulge in food that isn’t the best for you. I am trying my very best to stay physically and mentally healthy.

I really do believe that progress takes time. I am determined not to give up on this. Although I’m still afraid to tell my mom I’ve switched majors, I have no fucking doubt in my mind I will be successful in 5 or 10 or 15 years from now. No. Fucking. DOUBT. And I will be FUCKING amazing.

#x #health

0 notes

dasklaus · 7 years

Text

Big wall of text incoming.

This is going to be my first text post on tumblr.

Originally, this was a porn blog. I guess I'm just not that into porn. This is a feelings-dump because I currently have an excess of feelings.

I never talked much about trans issues, least of all about my own. Like many, I keep thinking I'm fake, not trans enough or just weird. That's what I tell people, too: don't mind the male name, I'm just weird about gender. Don't worry about it. I minimize being trans all the time - then again, I truly don't think about it that often. It seeps into my life in small ways, rarely big ones, and I can easily overlook it, distract myself, pretend it's not happening. It's why I haven't transitioned yet.

When I was a kid, I had bigger problems. I had difficulties forming connections with people - still have, to be honest - while desperately wishing for friends - still do, to be honest. I was bullied to varying degrees, changed schools a lot, and regularly got beaten by my older brother while my helpless parents had long patient talks with both of us that didn't change anything ever except made it clear to me that talks were supposed to help but the nice, peaceful environment I lived in just manifested in unusual ways or I just failed to experience it as peaceful. To not turn this into a sob story: I was, in hindsight, really bad at interacting with other kids (in the sense of being an ignorant, arrogant asshole) and didn't take any initiative in solving my own problems, expecting my nice, peaceful environment to manifest itself somehow.

I was raised pretty gender-neutral. My clothes were blue, I waded in lego and books and while I tried to get hobbies like the cool kids did, nothing stuck. As I didn't connect to others naturally and felt a profound otherness (which I mostly attribute to my poor yet snobbish upbringing, my giftedness and - arguably more importantly - my knowing about it), I tended to look for ways to be special, to not do the mainstream thing because I was different, therefore had to do everything differently. When my parents let me choose an instrument to learn I chose drums. Impracticability and long waiting lists took this off the table, so I went for harp. I have no idea what I was thinking.

Being trans feels like that: like a bad choice based on a childish way of looking at myself, on not knowing how to present myself. Like making things weirder for myself on purpose.

I didn't have any clear signs of tomboyishness. I was shy, prone to anger and despair, relentless argueing and both a huge slob and a lover of lists. This is, as far as I can tell, the whole picture - no hidden dreams or interests that put me clearly on the feminine or masculine side of how one might expect a child with strong gender expressions to behave. Gender expressions I did not do.

I vividly remember a neighbourhood friend (the only one that I had and that I adored and looked down on all at once) asking which super power I would like if I were to choose. I went for switching sex at will. Nowadays I'd probably say shape-shifting, but back then, while a lot of things seemed neat, they only appealed to me for money or fame (or advancing science - this was a factor in my appraisal process). This one was the one I wanted for myself, that I would still want even if I had to keep it a secret. This is the only memory I have that tells me something might've been up even way back.

There were some indicators later on that I use to reassure myself. I wanted to go as a man for Fasching (a yearly costume party at school in February) in seventh grade, did, and was mistaken for Charly Chaplin most of the day. There were girls dressed as cowboys, male superheroes and actually Charly Chaplin, and my feelings of specialness faded away, replaced with shame at my generic costume and bitter envy for the people who didn't seem to make anything out of wanting to be boys sometimes.

In eight grade, I started hanging out with the sixth-grade boys, who were closer in age to me, as I started school at five instead of six or seven. Among those kids, a favourite past-time was a kind of wrestling done sitting cross-legged on the ground, both fighters trying to wrestle the other one to the ground. I loved it. Physical contact in general made me nervous, but I took to consensual violence with ease. Being one of the boys, even just for short periods of time, was the best feeling I got out of that time. I changed schools not long after.

I also developed a malformed spine by hiding my growing breasts. I started to hate my body in a way that I had no way of ever fixing.

We went for an excursion to a LGBT resource center. I got hung up on the question of lesbian sex, having started entertaining penis-in-vagina type of fantasies recently that pointedly omitted my own body or presence but were abstract, voyeuristic in nature. Nothing I could imagine girls doing compared to the coming simultaneously while getting physically wrapped up in each other I envisioned. Nonetheless, when asked to sort ourselves into corners of the room based on things like whether or not we've ever been in love (I had not), wanted to have kids (I did, the idea being that I'd live with lots of self-made playmates who all loved me by design) or whether or not we could possibly see ourselves being anything other than hetero, I felt queer. Not necessarily attracted to girls, but queer. I don't remember if I dared go into the queer corner, or whether anyone else did.

In ninth grade, I both fell in love and got a new name. She was the prettiest girl in the world by far, all eyebrows and carefully cultivated elegance, a dark lady of profound thought and inspiration and style, older and wiser and cleverer than I could ever hope to become. I learned her time-table to randomly bump into her between classes, changed my elective course from physics to math to share a class with her and worshipped the ground she walked on. I had a mutual friend tell her about my feelings after she went for a year abroad to the US, to enable her to reject me from a safe distance, which she, of course, did.

My name got discovered in a wallet a classmate won at a biology competition. I've been telling this story for years but recently discovered it was false - the dummy license in it had the last name I chose as my pseudonym on it, but a different first name. I must have chosen that independently. I made my class call me that (male) first name, and even got some teachers on board. A kid in a parallel class we had some course I don't remember with asked me (once, but loudly) whether I'd have surgery. I confidently told him I would as soon as I was eighteen, four years down the line.

The catch is that, while this became common knowledge among the students, I never told anyone. I have, to this day, never actually explicitely come out as trans. I introduced myself with my chosen name, asking not to worry about it. I evaded the rare follow-up question about what it meant. I expressed discomfort at being grouped with girls, having finally found my place among the guys at the new school (if you want a number, my sixth one. Explaining that would take another post of this length). I never talked to my parents, though, nor a doctor. I never said "I want to be a guy" or "I am a guy", I just tried to be a guy best I could - not an especially macho or stereotypical guy, either, just a guy.

That year, we actually watched a documentary at school about trans people. The only thing I remember is a group of fat bearded men sitting around a table and one of them saying he wished he'd have known about this treatment and all this when he was fourteen. That struck a chord. Here I was, fourteen, and now I knew.

Knowing didn't help one bit.

Not knowing what to say, to whom, and how to say it, rightfully suspecting that the people around me didn't know any more than me, I wrote a letter to EMMA, a feminist publication we got at home. I figured they'd know stuff about sex and gender and what to do. They told me to wait and (I told them a bit about myself, including my love for astronomy) that girls can be astronauts, too. While I know fully well that this was meant well, it shattered my hopes of insight and qualified help. I didn't reach out again for more than ten years, when I finally applied for a legal name change (a process that took over four years but got approved recently).

In tenth grade, I developed a crush on a guy. As a large part of my legitimacy in my mind hinged on my attraction to women (the one women I was still very much attracted to simultaneously), this was a problem for me. Still, I made the effort of knocking on his door, stammer out some feelings and getting politely rejected, never having expected anything else.

I found an article about trans men in a magazine. Some were said to help themselves prior to hormonal transition with excessive exercising and anabolic drugs prescribed by their doctor. The next day, I went to the nearest pharmacy and asked for anabolics. The pharmacist took in my fourteen year old weak and tiny physique and started laughing so hard she could not talk. I left red-faced and have never since set foot in that pharmacy again, even though it's the one closest to my home.

Lots of things happened in the following years. After school, I kept the name on the internet and some circles, but didn't dare it in others. I became clinically depressed, mostly for isolation reasons and being generally broken, weird, particular and incompatible with many aspects of adult or even teenager life. I took years working out how to be a person, a work in progress that is less obvious nowadays and much easier, but still there. When the occasional trans thoughts and semi-annually late-night ftm research binges didn't disappear even when I got myself a bit more together, into a successful "hetero" relationship (my first and to this day only LTR) and into friendships who exclusively knew me under my birth name, I felt the growing need to do something about that. I started using my male name with new people and workplaces again. I applied for a name change, which required several visits with psychiatric experts, to whom I lied about my boyfriend, fearing his existence and hetero-ness would influence the verdict, but nothing else.

Being with a hetero man led me to consider hormone treatment as a far-away possibility at best, not for here and now in any case. Fear of being alone again and fear of making myself effectively undateable for no practical gain, fear of regret and fear of the irreversibility of some of the changes made me procrastinate and ignore the issue of where to go from here, long-term.

Now my name is approved, I feel none of the ambiguity and doubt I expected. I spent two weeks feeling nothing but happy about it, showing off my new ID at every opportunity, booking tickets in my new name, informing boss and colleagues, changing my email signature at work and not regretting anything at all. And I think to myself: onto the next step.

Which brings me to today. My euphoria made me call the clinic and make an appointment for hormone treatment (having gotten the necessary info from the experts mentioned earlier). More than a week later, I finally told my boyfriend, who has, so far, steadily ignored any and all gender issues, not caring and feeling enlightened for not caring. And he cannot imagine staying with me through this. And I cannot fault him for feeling that way.

I love him. Being in an open relationship, I'm free to love others, too, which one might think makes it easier, but it doesn't. He is not replaceable. To make matters worse, I just got rejected from the only person that ever made me consider breaking the rules of our open relationship, which hurts hurts hurts like hell but is not something I can really bitch about because I already have someone and wanting someone else is just greedy. We - my partner and I - had plans to marry (now legally a civil union in our case) (he has the prettiest last name in the world, also I want to be with him forever, also taxes and insurance).

I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a woman.

There is no solution here.

What I really need right now is cuddles and for someone to tell me it will be alright, but I suspect it won't. I don't know how to deal with this.

Thanks for reading.

#personal

0 notes