#gendernonbinary

Bagoas in a private moment of closeness with Alexander the Great.

"Among them was Bagoas, the eunuch of incomparable beauty and like a newly bloomed flower./ " Bagoas, the eunuch exceptional in beauty and in the very flower of youth" [Inter quae Bagoas erat, specie singulari spado atque in ipso flore pueritiae] - Curtius

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HQ 4k full artwork (sexy/sugestive, passionate grip), 2 versions (with and without Alexander's hand)

transequalitynow

This International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia, here’s a little Trans 101 for y’all: Trans People are people and we are not all the same. We are individuals who have agency and autonomy whether the government or society at large is ready for that to be true is irrelevant.

Being against transphobia means being ALL THE WAY HERE FOR trans folks’ agency and autonomy.

Posted @withregram • @transstudent ✨EXACTLY!✨

Credit: @wearyoufitin

ID [text on rainbow background reads “a friendly reminder that you don’t need to fully understand the nuances of gender identity to know that each individual person knows who they are better than you ever will.”]

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This is an offering, my offering to you and in giving this offering to you, I enrich myself. I am doing this because, as they say “time is of the essence” and because I come from a lineage that finds spiritual work in the giving of gifts. My mother and my maternal grandmother gave food as offering, feeding those they loved made them full. For me, currently, fullness looks like sharing the food of my thoughts. My mind has been racing, during this current moment, as I am sure so many of us can relate. Growing up in a world that doesn’t like Black people talking outwardly about how we are, made me fold into myself and convene with my shadow self. There I dreamt a lot and there I became used to silencing my voice. But there inside of us all, is a key to unlearning the socialization of quiet and the making of smallness from the weight of violence that comes from being seen.

I’ve been exploring the theory of radical transparency. I came to use this term after my HIV diagnosis. Slowly I emerged from a place of restrictive secrecy, fully embracing who I am and who I’ve always been, there lurking in the shadows. I had some failed periods of disclosure and became deeply depressed, because the world suggests and imposes perfect disclosure when you’re HIV positive. To disclose means your good and to not disclose means you’re bad. There is no grace. At this moment, feeling deeply ashamed, I had some time to sit in silence. Sitting in silence made me remember the power of folding into myself, of looking at the deepest parts of me and coming to a place of reconciliation. Reminding myself that performing goodness is something that has imposed itself on me and that my duty or job in life is to augment my energetic offering and that happens through brutal honesty. That means that I don’t live at the behest of perfection. It was in those moments that I discovered the necessity of sharing.

Radical transparency is a term that I would learn was used before, to critique government and also discuss information technology but that isn’t what conjured for me. It meant the folding out of my shadow self, the banning of the dishonesty that comes when we curate our stories to be digestible to others. It meant that when asked how I was, I would respond forthright. Not sugarcoating anything, simply stating my day is bad, if indeed it was a bad day. In embracing this new practice I found that the anxiety of judgment was suspended, I found sanctuary in telling my truth unedited. Before I would never contend with my shadow, I would make it my burden. It was like holding the weight of the world while also carrying its shadow value. What I mean by shadow value is that when you think of the labor of carrying the world, there is that which is unaccounted for the work it takes to even stand. This compounds the burden we assume is ours. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t. Those projected debts we shoulder because we assume our very existence is a burden, isn’t ours, it belongs to the systems we find ourselves within.

I come to you with a full heart, giving this food, as is a custom in my lineage. Sharing my thoughts at the moment and wanting to be heard. I guess I’m here to tell you that the fruits are blessed, there is sanctity in the way you disrupt the world. I’m here to tell you that while there are penalties, in this world, for your Blackness and queerness, there is power in your profane. The way you rage, the way you tell the truth, isn’t for anyone else but it can heal the world. So, my offering is to show yourself onto yourself and therefore become free of the gazes that glance at and mock you. When you see your shadow, don’t run, sit still in it’s silence and beautiful magic will arise. Say this with me: “I am my own question, that I hold the answer to.”

Àṣẹ

A Note on attribution: When I discuss penalties for Blackness and the power of the profane, I take graciously from the language of my comrade and sibling Shani Akilah.

Abdul-Aliy A. Muhammad is a Black queer HIV positive organizer and writer from Philadelphia.

Pour into Abdul’s work: Cash App: $Dulle Venmo: Abdul-Aliy

A few times I found myself with my family at dinner, shopping and staying at the hotel and occasionally would be misgendered by my family that made me feel self conscious,

For example, when I was shopping with my grandmother she would constantly say ‘he’ and ‘him’, and one time at Albertsons, it got bad:

The cashier comments “You ladies find everything you were looking for?” as I replied

“Yes we most certainly did! Even more then expected!”

The cashier scanned our groceries and looked to my grandmother “Would you like any help out today?”

“No I have him to help me.”

The cashier glanced at me, tight lipped as a man waiting in line who seemed friendly at first glared at me as I just wanted to go.

For a few hours, I dwelled on all I’ve experienced as I thought ‘I can’t afford to take her shopping.’

I was cooking dinner and walked over to my grandmother as I said “I need to talk to you about something that might be hard to hear; but I liked it if you called me by my preferred pronouns. She...”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I like you to please call me she or her when we are out. I am mostly passing now as female, I present myself accordingly and besides, I am legallly female now.”

I then explained my reasoning “Today shopping, the gentleman behind us just glared at me...judging me. I was highly uncomfortable!” “Even though nothing happened, one day you might identify me as being trans and someone messed up in the head might feel my existence is a threat to their ideology and end up shooting or stabbing me!”

“I am sorry.” she says as she nods her head “So you want to be called a woman...”

“Yes.” I reply.

“Okay, though might take me awhile to get use to it.”

I nod, smiling. “I understand...I am still learning myself.”

When my mother and sister came home, I was wondering how to present this change to them (as before, I never required anyone to call me Mira or a woman...but with my transition tipping the scales towards feminine). Surprisingly, grandmother broke the news as I nodded, saying that I understand it will take time.

I'm approaching six months on fairly low dose of T prescription and feeling down. People are quick to see female when they look at me. I get ma'am and miss on the spot and don't understand. What's wrong with me? Why haven't I changed?