2020 has been a year of personal discoveries; call 'em bitter pills. Colorful language impending (I'm queer—would you expect anything less?) amidst a classic Jillian FB novella.
I liked my art better before I monetized it. Fuck internalized capitalism.
Brainsick has always been heavily self-therapeutic. I don't know if I can publish it any more, or if I even want to? Maybe my art was always meant simply to be self-therapeutic. It's felt so healing taking a break from my online shop and cons (and also a massive privilege) to reconnect with my thought process and sketchbooks and writing.
I have gender dysphoria, and I've denied it for decades because I lacked the language necessary to describe how I've felt since childhood.
I don't feel male, but I've never truly felt female. There are times when I thought I did, and I convinced myself that I somehow managed to pull it off. I've always hated having breasts (why I hunched as a teen), and I DESPISE having a reproductive system at all. I was eight years old when I knew I didn't want children.
If I could afford the cost and recovery time, nothing would make me happier in terms of my physical appearance than a double mastectomy. A hysterectomy would be great if not for surgical menopause.
I'm wavering between genderqueer and non-binary. Still figuring out what fits me better.
The gender binary—the laughable idea that there is "only" female or male—is a sham. Gender variation was the NORM before the binary reared its ugly white colonialist head.
Think about it: of nearly 8 billion people extant, do you really think we all fall neatly into Either / Or? Do you REALLY think all of the estimated 108 billion people who have ever lived were Either / Or?
Remember that gender is a construct. People fear what they don't understand, so they give meaning to this construct to make sense of the world.
But how do you make sense of your experience when it falls outside the limitations instilled and perpetuated by society?
I've spent years subconsciously HATING myself because I could not make sense of why I felt the way I do. Internalized misogyny and internalized queerphobia are real fuckin' fun.
The general public—even the LGBTQIA+ community at large—overwhelmingly prefers / understands genderqueer or non-binary to translate to "able-bodied androgynous white AFAB." (See how this circles back to white colonialist bullshit?)
News flash: there are as many ways to self-identify as there are people on the planet—but I'm just parroting folks much wiser than I am. Gender-nonconforming folks DO NOT all look like I do!
And if you're thinking about pulling the "biological sex" argument? There are several natural chromosomal variations that DO NOT FIT the female / male binary. Sex, like gender, is a spectrum. Science rules.
Naming my gender dysphoria felt like a puzzle piece snapping into place. With it came identifying several childhood "bad habits" that are actually very common into adulthood: body-focused repetitive behaviors, or BFRBs. Nail-biting, hair-pulling, skin-picking… I still struggle with several of these behaviors, which may stem from anxiety, depression, stress, or even boredom. Some may even be inherited. I strongly suspect they're connected to my self-hatred. I have a lot of unlearning to do.
I don't care who reads this because I am sick and tired of lying to myself. I've shared some of my discoveries as IG stories during the past few weeks; friends have reached out to me telling me they feel less "other," less alone. Maybe I can use my art and stories to help people feel accepted and loved and normal—because that's what we deserve.
Long story short? I really don't care if you still refer to me with she / her / hers. Know that neutral pronouns—they / them / theirs—feel much better to me, and make me much happier! <3
Happy National Coming Out Day.
Be ready to vote, y'all.
(In case it wasn't already blatantly obvious: Fuck Trump.)
[Cross-posting this from FB because I should use my poor ol' blog more.]