#gargoyle grumbles

This post is almost two posts in one, and the topics change quickly. But they are both about the state of my physical body, gender, and how I understand it. 

Human evolution is something that is deeply important to me. I've discussed being archeosapient in the past and how that impacts my plenanima as a whole. I've also been thinking about my connection to evolution in regards to my physical body and how my human body carries and holds that history. It's not something metaphorical or spiritual, the whole reason we know about evolution to begin with is the shared and passed down traits shared between modern beasts and the fossil record. 

My shoulder girdle, how my shoulders and neck are connected and supported, originated from a bone that used to support gills. The ways that my veins and blood run through my body are strange and twisted because the body plan that they originated in is aquatic in nature. Evolution is not an all-knowing, intelligent process. It approximates, it slides by with the lowest effort possible. Many of the issues in my body, issues innate to all human bodies, are because of the nature of evolution and all the changes we've been through. 

I made a silly post on tumblr about this. What's interesting about that post is that I was in a classroom. The idea that physical bodies hold their evolutionary past is something that has been taught to me time and time again in my biological anthropology classes. I believe that, in that specific post, my professor was referencing Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin. I've found some excerpts from his book, specifically about hiccups. 

Shubin writes that:

"Our tendency to develop hiccups is another influence of our past. There are two issues to think about. The first is what causes the spasm of nerves that initiates the hiccup. The second is what controls that distinctive hic, the abrupt inhalation–glottis closure. The nerve spasm is a product of our fish history, while the hic is an outcome of the history we share with animals such as tadpoles."

"First, fish. Our brain can control our breathing without any conscious effort on our part. Most of the work takes place in the brain stem, at the boundary between the brain and the spinal cord. The brain stem sends nerve impulses to our main breathing muscles. Breathing happens in a pattern. Muscles of the chest, diaphragm, and throat contract in a well-defined order. Consequently, this part of the brain stem is known as a “central pattern generator.” This region can produce rhythmic patterns of nerve and, consequently, muscle activation. A number of such generators in our brain and spinal cord control other rhythmic behaviors, such as swallowing and walking."

"The problem is that the brain stem originally controlled breathing in fish; it has been jerry-rigged to work in mammals. Sharks and bony fish all have a portion of the brain stem that regulates the rhythmic firing of muscles in the throat and around the gills. The nerves that control these areas all originate in a well-defined portion of the brain stem. We can even see this nerve arrangement in some of the most primitive fish in the fossil record. Ancient ostracoderms, from rocks over 400 million years old, preserve casts of the brain and cranial nerves. Just as in living fish, the nerves that control breathing extend from the brain stem."

"This works well in fish, but it is a lousy arrangement for mammals. In fish the nerves that control breathing do not have to travel very far from the brain stem. The gills and throat generally surround this area of the brain. Mammals have a different problem. Our breathing is controlled by muscles in the wall of our chest and by the diaphragm, the sheet of muscle that separates chest from abdomen. Contraction of the diaphragm controls inspiration. The nerves that control the diaphragm exit our brain just as they do in fish, and they leave from the brain stem, near our neck. These nerves, the vagus and the phrenic nerve, extend from the base of the skull and travel through the chest cavity to reach the diaphragm and the portions of the chest that control breathing. This convoluted path creates problems; a rational design would have the nerves traveling not from the neck but from somewhere nearer the diaphragm. Unfortunately, anything that interferes with one of these nerves can block their function or cause a spasm."

"If the odd course of our nerves is a product of our fishy past, the hiccup itself is likely the product of our history as amphibians. Hiccups are unique among our breathing behaviors in that an abrupt intake of air is followed by a closure of the glottis. Hiccups seem to be controlled by a central pattern generator in the brain stem: stimulate this region with an electrical impulse, and we stimulate hiccups. It makes sense that hiccups are controlled by a central pattern generator, since, as in other rhythmic behaviors, a typical sequence of events happens during a hic."

"It turns out that the pattern generator responsible for hiccups is virtually identical to one in amphibians. And not in just any amphibians—in tadpoles, which use both lungs and gills to breathe. Tadpoles use this pattern generator when they breathe with gills. In that circumstance, they want to pump water into their mouth and throat and across the gills, but they do not want the water to enter their lungs. To prevent it from doing so, they close the glottis, the flap that closes off the breathing tube. And to close the glottis, tadpoles have a central pattern generator in their brain stem so that an inspiration is followed immediately by a closing glottis. They can breathe with their gills thanks to an extended form of hiccup."

"The parallels between our hiccups and gill breathing in tadpoles are so extensive that many have proposed that the two phenomena are one and the same. Gill breathing in tadpoles can be blocked by carbon dioxide, just like our hiccups. We can also block gill breathing by stretching the wall of the chest, just as we can stop hiccups by inhaling deeply and holding our breath. Perhaps we could even block gill breathing in tadpoles by having them drink a glass of water upside down."

And how wonderful is that? That hundreds of millions of years later, amphibians and I share the same physical traits. We came from the same place and were, at one point, the same thing. I hold that past physically within me. And I love it. 

This has led me to kinsider the term "physically archaeosapient", in the sense that the most important part to me of my archeosapience is the physicality. But I am hesitant to do this. 

Much of the pushback that physical nonhumans face is that the claims about their bodies are not considered "real" by outsiders or doctors. Their community has been overtaken to a degree by those who are "philosophically nonhuman", in that because their mind is nonhuman, their body is nonhuman.  It's an issue many of my mutuals and peers have tried to speak up against, with little to no avail. 

I have brought up many facts about my body and an interpretation of my body that is backed by science. It's something that I can say and talk about without being perceived as "mad" or "insane". This is not an experience that my physical nonhuman peers share with me. I fear that by using scientific theory to "back up" my claims I would be indirectly implying that my physical nonhumanity is somehow "more real" or "more valid". One of the many issues the nonhuman community faces is sanism. I don't want to contribute to that or rub any of my peers the wrong way, but the scientific validity of evolution in my bones is deeply important to me and what I want to talk about. So while physical archaeosapience describes me literally, I don't know if it works well when compared to the greater physical nonhuman experience. Maybe this is a nonissue that  I'm overthinking. Maybe the topic of my physicality (human evolution/aquatic past) is different enough for me to not contribute to this issue. I'm not sure. 

What is for sure, though, is that I am very proud of and comforted by my past as an amphibian. I consider myself to be the embodiment of the liminality between aquatic and terrestrial life due to my connection to the history carried in me. 

When I first kinfirmed being a gargoyle otherheart, it was fast. Over the year and a half I've had that identity, I've thought a lot about if I'm a gargoyle otherkin or otherheart. I do not consider myself to be a gargoyle in the way I am a gillman, but the way I interact with gargoyles in no where near the same way that I interact with fish or bugs, two otherheart identities I have that are deeply impactful and emotional. Recently, I've changed the gargoyle otherheart label into a gargoyle otherkith, to sort of differentiate between my fish/bug and gargoyle experience. Unlike bug and fish, I experience gargoyleness internally and through a perception of shared experiences. Gargoyles and I are similar not in form or experience, but in emotions and traits and our positions physically and within society.

Otherkith is deeply regarded as the less popular, less preferred alternative to "otherheart". In regards to myself and my identity, I'm going to push against the idea that kith and hearted are the same. As stated above, there is an inherent gargoyleness to me. The aloofness and distance, but also the state of being stone. 

A few things have happened to me recently. 

Thing the first: I have been having a discussion with others on how being stone impacts the way we see and treat our body. Gargoyles are protective, they are built to last. They are a functional part of a building. These are traits in gargoyles that I admire and, if given the opportunity, I'd love to see those traits in me. They are, honestly, traits that I've always wanted for myself. I want to be strong, sturdy, and reliable. I want to use my body to support things around me. This is something that I think also comes from my bull and equine paratypes. Physical work is wonderful. I've always let myself be the "pack mule", the one to carry or pull something (assuming it is within my ability to do so). 

Thing the second: I have begun to work out more. Working out has always been a bit far away from me. Those I've been near who knew how to work out always considered my goal to be "unrealistic". The way that I wanted to feel and be was not biologically possible for me. This was, at the time, said by cishet male friends of mine. They all knew I was a lesbian who wanted to align myself more with masculinity, and they actively pushed me away from the thought that it would ever be possible. These were people who, in every other aspect of my life, have been understanding and supportive. I trusted them to have good opinions about my life, and in nearly every other way, I can say that they did. But they ruined the idea of building muscle for a very long time, and made the idea of working out very uncomfortable, dysphoric even. Instead of feeling better in my body, they told me that it'd only emphasize my "feminine traits" (hips and things, I assume they meant).

Within recent months, I've been able to refocus my goals for my body on how I feel existing inside of it. I've been gaining weight and it's been nice, I enjoy how I feel with more meat on my bones, but I lack the strength that I'd like to come with the added weight. I've learned more about what building muscle can look like, and I've realized that what I want for myself isn't that far-fetched. Misogyny ruined the idea of exercise to me, I was told that it'd only make me more feminine and I'd be disappointed. This is something I've had in my mind for a year or so now. 

A dear friend of mine is studying kinesiology right now with the goal to go into physical therapy. She's obsessed with creating workout plans for her friends, and has decided that I am going to be her final project (a literal final project for a class, mind you! Her assignment is to create a customized plan for a peer). The process of this has been... good for me. She understands my goals and what I like and dislike. While I haven't been fully transparent with my true intentions (desire to be a big buff lesbian), she knows the way I want my body to be and is setting me up and teaching me how to get there. She's been teaching me how to use all of the machines that I was too scared to learn on my own and easy workouts I can do on my own without any equipment. It was such a nice experience, getting to reintroduce myself to this without fear or shame. And even after one workout and a few exercises this morning, I'm already feeling a lot better about myself. 

Thing the third: I've been unearthing old issues about my gender and my body. It has a lot to do with being a lesbian, too. I've always struggled to understand and make sense of the "masculinity" inside of me. For a while I thought maybe I was genderfluid, a binary trans man, agender, nonbinary, or a plethora of other labels. But none of them ever felt good or right on me. They were all wrong, just as wrong as being a cis woman. When I discovered I was a lesbian, many of these issues began to evaporate. Butchfemme culture was home to me, and I found myself very comforted in butch identity. It still wasn't perfect, but man! It was really close. I had always wanted a sort of "third gender", and this was a great option for that. 

When I started to approach butch identity more and bring it into my real life, I was met with many roadblocks and no idea how to overcome them. Particularly with fashion and physical strength. Most of my resources were online and not in real life. Then, of course, issues with my family and being in an traditional sorority that paralyzed me with fear. But I started inching there, slowly. I remember at one point, I got clocked as a bit of a butch by someone my age on a train. It was nice, I liked it. Then it all sort of got put on pause when I got with my partner, a butch lesbian. 

Having a butch regularly in my life was great, highly recommend. It let me partake in butchfemme culture without having to go through all those scary challenges. If I was going to resign myself to exist in femininity, then I was going to do it within the safety of butchness and lesbianism, in a way where I escaped the ideas of "womanhood" that I hated and could slip into something more natural. And out of all of the things that I have actively participated in, this one has been the easiest and the most satisfying. I've placed myself in the futch category because of it. I can't remove butch values from me, I've said I've had a "little butch lesbian in my heart" since I was 15. Realizing I was a lesbian at 18 was realizing that butchfemme identity was available to me. Just because my physical presentation is currently off does not mean that the emotional attachment has left. And being more femme leaning in my everyday life is still important to me, because all of butchfemme is important to me. A lot of myself revolves around butch identity, and if I'm not going to let myself be butch, at least I can be in constant companionship with one! 

I have no desire to break down any sort of dynamic in my relationship or imply that it "stopped me" from becoming who I wanted to be. It hasn't! It's given me a safe place to explore being more feminine and to figure out what actually makes me uncomfortable about being seen as feminine. Is being seen as a sexual entity bad? Is it the power dynamics? Is it something else entirely? And I do think I needed that, I think that its been crucial to figuring out what I want to do with myself and my body. I have, for so long, been hard set against the idea of being feminine at all, and I think completely rejecting the concept of being feminine is one of the reasons it's been taking me so long to figure out what the hell my gender is, anyway. I've been just hating it all for so long, I needed to actually work out what things I liked. 

The gender I've been set on is all very... animalistic. It's harry and fat and smelly, it's being female in the way a pig is a female. It's not clean, its not quiet. It's got horns and tusks and saggy boobs and it screams and squeals and likes to eat. It's not all that different from being a male animal, and in many ways has very masculine things about it. It's more than "tomboyish", more specific that "nonbinary". It's moving away from femininity as we know and understand it now and moves towards an earlier version of it, perhaps in a way that interacts with my archaeosapience. It is a transition away from one version of femineity and towards one of my own creation. 

All of this to say, I feel I am being spurred more towards being a gargoyle and molding my body into the things that I have always admired in gargoyles. I'd like to transition to being a gargoyle in the sense that my body is strong and sturdy. I am physically fit in a way that I've always wanted to be. Just as gargoyles are beasts ugly enough to scare off evil spirits, I want my version of female to deviate and ward off "traditional" feminine values and expectations. I want my position, like a gargoyle and a butch, to be something reliable and resourceful. I want to serve a purpose that supports those around me. My gargoyle otherkith is clinging onto this and clawing into it, I can't separate this part of my nonhumanity from how I want to experience my gender and body. I want the way I experience my gender and body to be nonhuman. 

The road to becoming more of a gargoyle is a long one, and it will take me months to years to get my body to the place I want it. I'm not strong. I'm squishy and weak. But I have options, now. I have confidence in myself and trust in those around me that I've lacked for so long. If I do end up letting myself do this, it's going to be a very, very long journey. But I want to do it, I have people around me who want to do it with me, and I think it will be good for me. 

I'm not sure what to call this. I want to call it something, I want to have a way to communicate this and talk about it. I want the experience of living in my body to align with the gargoyle experience and to communicate my arcaeosapience. I don't want to be transspecies in the sense that others view me as nonhuman, but I want the experience of living in my body to reflect nonhuman values. 

Unlike a lot of transspecies individuals in the community, I am not changing myself to alleviate species dysphoria. The changes I'm looking to have done do not include anything hormonal (I have debated taking testosterone, but I carry the male pattern baldness gene and I love my hair too much to risk that) or surgical. In fact, my human body is a very important part of the whole experience, as it's how I am physically archaeosapient. In the most extreme situation, I might consider gill tattoos. For that reason, transspecies feels a bit misleading and inaccurate. 

Because the transition would be from one version of femininity to another version that hangs in the ambiguous vaguely nonbinary area, I'm tempted to call it transfem. Many people get mad at the idea of afab perisex transfems, but what else am I to call a transition from one feminine gender to another? Nonhuman transfem is semantically better, but it also doesn't feel right in my gut, either. 

Internally transspecies might be something, as it's the internal experience I'm wishing to change. If I want to get more into specifics with it, then I can bring in the transfem part, but that's probably something I will shove away into my little hidey hole. I'm not in the business of getting my shit rocked by folks who don't understand what I'm trying to communicate here. 

Insight and conversation from others would be helpful. I feel like I'm overestimating how serious some of these labels are, but I'm also pedantic and never satisfied with a label unless it is completely accurate to me and how I feel. If I have a bit of doubt about what a word means or entails, I'm not very likely to use it. I could easily go talk to some of my physical and transspecies peers about their experience, but I wanted to write down all of my Raw Thoughts on the matter before I really start to dig into what to call myself. 

This was a lot, thank you to those who managed to read it all. There are probably many typos in here and it's a little cluttered. I will clean them up at a later date.