“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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I’m a guy (mostly). A trans guy, but I am still a guy. However, I am far from your typical guy (both trans* and cis). I have more high heels than most of my female friends. I still shop in the women’s clothing section, including underwear. My arms are covered in a plethora of bracelets of all colors, shapes, and sizes. At this current moment, my toenails are painted sparkly purple (something I did with my girlfriend). I love rainbows, unicorns, glitter, bright colors, flashy clothes, etc. I often joke that my gender is peacock, because that is how I feel most of the time. A male peacock is the perfect descriptor for me. I’m flashy, loud, outspoken, opinionated, brightly colored, and love being the center of attention. While my gender occasionally does fluctuate, it always has the basis of male. I’ve always seen my body and identity as having a male base to build off of, despite being Female Assigned At Birth – or FAAB, which is a perfect acronym for me.
Continue reading “Gender: Peacock”