#but anyway...

I sent this to my friend. This is what she responded with🤭

Me: watch how the one in blue looks at the orange guy when he places a hand on the red guys shoulder

Her: HELP THE ONE IN BLUE LOOKS SO

"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH POOKIE"

Once upon a time, there was a little hedgehog and a little squirrel. They lived in the same tree hollow, but separately. Then one day, a big storm blew through and filled the hollow with fallen leaves. At first, they tried cleaning by themselves, but it was so tiring. No matter how much they cleaned, they just couldn't finish it. So the two of them teamed up and happily cleaned the tree hollow together.

being able to call myself what i am is a hard-won reward and it feels better than anything else to arrive at a point where "man" is my home. it's the silk in which i wrap myself. it's surgical steel, chrome, concrete, red earth, river water, denim, down, blood, hair, summer sweat, thunder, geosmin, petrichor, stone fruit, folcánta... i don't have to abandon anything about myself and i can become anything. i can decide. deciding comes at times with a steep cost, but what's the alternative? maybe i can end some degree of torment— torment, not confusion. i'll keep trying.

i understand why it's a useful catch-all but personally i don't ever refer to myself as "transmasculine," not to the public, not to my partner, not in my own head. "boy" might always be charming but, having lived long enough to grow into it, i've come to like "man" plenty. the novelty has never worn off being called "he" and "him" and something is "his." it's tremendous. whenever i'm called what i am, acknowledged for my stubborn consistency in spite of setback after setback, i get to feel a little more real, more present in the world.

i can't care if being man/butch/dyke/fag is contradictory: it's much healthier for me to give in and be that guy than to kill myself trying to avoid it. it feels dumb as shit to say this but i don't suddenly become something else just because you see my face or my art and decide it doesn't fit your criteria, or if our definitions don't line up, or if you don't like me, i wasn't different before i had surgery, nor because i had nonstandard surgery, or because i like the colour pink, or grow my hair out, or am fat, or sick, or need help, or sometimes wear... shorts? why would this modify me or anyone? even when i'm ignorantly they/themmed, i'm undiluted. even in a life rife with painful compromises, this won't be one. transition— becoming— being— is, if nothing else, a good effort at staying alive.

Oh...