“Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs.”
— Shylock, The Merchant of Venice
Something that always appealed to me about horror was the fact that it felt like home. It was a place where I could belong, something as a trans man, I’d never had before. I never belonged with girls, but never belonged with boys either, I never belonged in my family, and friend groups were as flimsy as wet cardboard, and when the world turns it’s back on you and brands you an abomination, eventually it feels good to own that, to spit it back in their face and say “I may be an abomination, but at least I’m not you”.
I’d like to be free from binders one day, but I don’t think I’ll ever be free from being labelled as trans, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.
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