#downer

If you're wondering what one of those quietly broken transfems that feels like she's at gunpoint simply being seen anywhere-- half-present, mind racing to avoid any behavior that might be traceable back to the deck of transmisoginyst caricatures she always keeps in the back of her head, trying to figure out which card the other person might see stuck to her forehead...

That's me! As Transmisogyny gets worse, I'm usually the first to crumble. I go out less, and when I do, I do so dogged by phantoms of every bad rumor, every bad experience someone's had with a trans woman.

I might like myself more now, but I actually had way more confidence before I transitioned. Now, I dedicate all that courage to persisting despite an awareness that traits that would be forgivable (even charming) coming from a cis person becomes a moral failing coming from a tgirl, multiplied by a factor of how clocky I am today.

That's why I'm so meticulous about my appearance (as best I can, with my health). The amount of respect I earn cannot exceed my value as an art piece or sexual commodity. I constantly try to outfox disgust and revulsion, lay on the charm, and avoid anything that might trip someone's "male socialization" alarm and sow doubt about my identity.

I've been socially transitioned for years, but my claim on anything feminine still seems criminal. I want it, so bad. But it's sacred, and my adoption of any of it is seen as taint, theft and deception. My awkwardness amidst it? My excitement? Perversity. Intrusion. Mental illness. Violence. Be. Fucking. Normal.

I know in my heart that who I am, as a whole human, brings light and value to people's lives. Of course I do, that's basic stuff! But when I stand before a stranger, I work from the presupposition that have no humanity. I am an expression of one stereotype or another, a conglomeration of uses, transgressions and weaknesses-- not an individual human.