Glad pride månad! Joyeux Mois de la Fierté! Happy pride, everyone!
I want to direct my attention especially towards those of us that are not binary, especially us omen. I wish you all the most comfortable pride month, my kenous siblings.
I feel that, each year, pride month tends to feel quite heavier for me. I tend to feel alone and quite isolated for my nonbianry identity, especially in the context of me being a nonbinary woman. My identity as transneutral aswell impacts this, seeing as transneutrality is either forgotten, used as an inclusivity point, or conflated with transandrogyny.
Even with the exorsexism that weighs me down, this month is for me. This month is for you, too! I cheer for all of us, nonbinary and genderqueer folks. You deserve as much space as anyone else, dare I encourage you to take up more space! You deserve that visibility and celebration, too!
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seems to be a lot of shit going down in the world right now— which apparently is a constant status quo— and i think I could go on forever and ever screaming at a wall about every injustice I’ve faced, that my friends have faced, that strangers face, that people I hate face. but I want to talk a bit about being monachoric in light of that, rather than discussing all those things that others can articulate so delicately and clearly and empower in a way that my rough edges can’t. it’s going to be a bit of a long one so strap in if you want, or don’t.
I coined monachoric when I was a teenager. it’s been a month or so since I was last a teenager. 34 days 12 hours 50 minutes 23 seconds at the time of writing this. I coined monachoric when I was dragging myself to school to make shitty art and then I would go home and be safe and fed. I would throw my fist up at the world for all the ways it wronged me. now I drag myself out of my dorm to make shitty art. I drag myself to get groceries, do laundry, look for an apartment. I stand in a shared kitchen and cook, I neglect a steadily accruing art installation of dirty clothes on my floor and paste posters over stark white walls.
in honesty, I’ve never felt more like a teenager. there’s some kind of irony and humour in watching fascism fester like a nasty tumour, then getting up and walking to the store so that I can make it through the week. it’s depressing or hopeful, depending on how you spin it. making it through, doing the laundry, dirtying the clothes, doing the laundry. as will toledo once said; more groceries, get eaten, get more groceries, get eaten, get more groceries, get eaten…
it’s all of this, the quiet comprehending of everything, and then there’s me. making art, struggling to make art, stacking empty notebooks until the pile is a sculpture in itself. reaching out, struggling to reach out, being too antisocial, being too loud.
being a loser.
that’s what being monachoric is, the crux of it, being a ‘loser’. and springs to mind those band tees those empty monster cans and those posters. all of which comprise me as a person and yet it’s a little more than trash music and reading comics. it’s the ‘I’m better than these mainstream posers’ while watching my guilty pleasure shows listening to my guilty pleasure pop and in every way performing to be ‘cool’. meeting ‘your kind of person’, still masking in front of them.
angry that it’s bad, guilty it’s not worse
I don’t know what it is about monachoric that resonates with so many people, but I suppose it feels at home to be angry, messy and alone. to grow up, and still not understand. to wake up late, to go to sleep in the early morning.
and to take this kind of thing as one’s whole being; monachopsis, the subtle and persistent feeling of being out of place. wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. to hold onto that one thing so tightly, to INSIST upon our out-of-placeness.
I think it’s kind of cool, for something based on never fitting in, to check the box for so many. for everyone to understand it in a different way. it’s like a huge fuck you to everything and everyone and the entire state of the world and every moment or decision or atomic collision that led up to this moment
I don’t think it’s that deep for everyone: but if you’re pissed off at the state of the world, you’re alone, you’re lost or an indignant sore thumb, consider monachoric. it can’t bring you satisfaction, but it might help you make peace with a tiny angry teenager somewhere in you
Come hither, peek into the life of your local omen.
Hello! I'm Marilyn. I'm kenochoric, if not obvious. This blog was slightly inspired by @your-bigender-big-brother but I will probably be more selfish here, for lack of a better word.
This blog is mainly centered around kenosity, but as I am also a woman and lesbian, there may be times I talk about those things as well- They are just as important as my omenhood.
You may use she/her to refer to me. And while I prefer kenous terminology, you are welcome to use feminine/gynine terms aswell.
Si toi, tu te barres, à quel point je changerais ?
" What exactly is this blog for? "
Mmh. Good question! We'll see. But seriously, this is my space focusing on being kenochoric. But also to remind people that identities akin to mine are not just some phase, an aesthetic, purely online, or an accessory. I am a real, living omen. I live my life this way, genuinely and with love.
" Where are you dividers from? "
@uzmacchiato. Check her out! Beautiful work.
" [insert discourse related comment] "
Unless it is something truly serious, I will not comment on it. Most of my opinions on trivial internet discourse is shared with people I trust, not out in the open. Solely because I realize people will send me threats and unsavory content, no matter what opinion I voice. Thank youu..
" Why am I blocked? "
I do not owe you the exact reason, but it'll most likely be because I'm on your DNI or you make me uncomfortable.
I am pankenochoric. If something is KEIN, a kenochord, kenous, or somehow encompasses kenochoric, I've got something from it. I am thankful for such, I see it as letting me experience everything without having to feel stress to conform. It is hard to describe.
But, I've got something from everything to the point where I just may be nothing too. It reminds me of Ouroboros, yin and yang. Concepts like that. And obviously this feeling transfers over to what I desire to become, physically.
Originally, with this, I was thinking about how, with the range of my gender, my ideal body is a flat base, neuter but not quite. Nothing you can't change, only being able to add something temporarily for whatever reason. Well- The only permanent changes I desire, other than surgery, are certain body modifications. But you could argue that some of those are temporary.
I think being smooth, maybe even having some cybernetic enhancements ha, is what would make me feel truly kenox. Y'know? The thought of existing in the limbo of the gender trinary, in the limbo of human and uncanny, it delights me. I want to exist as an enigma, something confusing, something that makes the average human nervous. I want to exist as something so truly myself that I cannot be thought of as anything else.
