Tag Archives: Gender identity

every day is coming out day for someone wearing a gender tag

it’s true, cats.  i field questions about my gender and my pronouns almost every day, mostly cuz of my totally rad gender tag.  yay!  so coming out day (yesterday) wasn’t really a big deal to me.  still, here’s a belated coming out day post cuz coming out day is rad.  huzzah!

k.  so i guess i should share some coming out stories, right?  k.

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coming out at school:

so i came out as a nonbinary trans* person at school this year by sending this email to my teachers in september.  i was fucking terrified the whole time i was writing the email, my sweetheart had to make sure i hit “send” rather than just deleting the email, and i was nervous nigh unto pissing myself for weeks.

i only received one reply via email, but it was a pretty awesome reply.  basically, my teacher said he’d do his best and he advised me to just correct him when he fucked up.  that was fucking rad cuz i happen to give a shit about his opinion.  he’s one of those people who seem kind and safe and who are fun to have conversations with, so i was actually really worried about what i’d do if he got all weird on me.  but he didn’t, so yay!  a couple days ago, i talked to this same teacher about nonbinary gender.  it went really well; he asked some questions, said some interesting stuff, and said he’d keep working on it.  he’s getting pretty good at not misgendering me and i’m stoked.

my private lessons teacher (everyone in the music program takes private lessons at school) didn’t reply to my coming out email, but we’ve been talking about pronouns and he’s been trying really hard.  which is fucking rad cuz i wouldn’t be able to spend another year taking private lessons from someone who didn’t respect my gender and my pronouns.

some of my other teachers have been awkward around me, but at least nothing really bad has happened.  also, lots of students notice my gender tag and are cool about it.  coming out as nonbinary at school has been pretty splendid.

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coming out to my family:

so i came out to my family last year.  my mom was all like, “what about your (presumed heterosexual) partner?  she was weird about it til she watched this video and (i shit you not) came around immediately.  she fucks my pronouns up sometimes, but she’s getting much better.  plus, she corrects other people!  and that’s just neon.

my dad doesn’t count cuz he’s outta my life (i can’t believe he’s just letting me walk away; it’s too good to be true).

my sister moved across the world and is mostly outta my life (for now?), but she took it pretty well.  also, my little nephew, who is more awesome than space ninja dinosaurs, stopped calling me auntie ____ and made up a non-gendered name for me.  yay!  (i fucking miss that kid with all my bones and salt.)  so my sister either had a hand in getting her kid to stop calling me auntie ____ or she at least supported my nephew’s decision to do so.  so victory and yay.

i haven’t come out to my grandmothers.  one of them can’t grasp that i’m even queer (i’ve come out as queer to her at least 3 times and she keeps “forgetting”), but i should probably talk to the other one.  also, the grandmother who can’t understand basic queerness pays my tuition.  i’ll let you know how it goes with the other one, though.

my partner’s family didn’t take it very well.  i came out to them last xmas by passing out sheets of paper with brief explanations of nonbinary gender on them.  some of them widened their eyes, puffed out their cheeks, and never acknowledged me again.  one of them explained how very ok with it she was– and then never really spoke to me again.

it’s ok, though, cuz i removed my awesome self from that toxic situation.  except now my sweetheart is on uneasy terms with his side of the family and that’s not cool.  but they were assholes anyway.  but i still feel bad.  bleh.

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at work:

cats, i work for my mom.  i’m cheating, basically.  i used to work for someone else and i was worried she’d fire me for being trans*, but my mom bought the business and is now my boss.  so i’m cheating cuz that’s one fewer person to come out to.  also, i have no co-workers.

*   *   *

tl;dr i’m out to basically everybody and i expect the people in my life to try to get my pronouns right.  some people are assholes, but some people are awesome.

also, coming out is a fucking privilege and not everyone is in a position to do so.  not everyone even wants to come out.  either way, we’re pretty splendid cats.

(what a shitty post.  i hope nobody reads it.  maybe i’ll fix it in the morning when i’m not sleepy.  maybe i’ll leave it here so my next mediocre post will seem spectacular by comparison.  maybe i’ll like this post when i reread it in the morning**.  am going to sleep now.)

**i don’t.  this post is still poorly written.  i’m gonna leave it that way, though, cuz lazy.

the search term post: every blogger has to write at least one of these

some bloggers like to tell their readers about their most awesome search engine terms every month, but i’ve been saving mine up since i started blogging over a year ago.  i’ve been compiling a list of my favorite search terms all this time– and now i’m gonna share ’em with you.  yay!

first, though, i’d like to thank all the intrepid internaughts who made this totally ridiculous list possible.  yay for you!  (seriously, yay!)

(to be totally clear, these are search terms that led peoples to my splendid blog-space.)

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i don’t believe in abelism

rad!  cuz your disbelief in ableism magically makes ableism DISAPPEAR!  no doubt, pwd throughout the galaxy will hail you as a hero.

photo scaly man

i assume you’re talking about warren, the famed half-fish superhero.  yeah, i know that cat.  conveniently, he just commissioned a portrait:

look no pants ass

just a random ass for ya.  without pants.  also without legs cuz i suck at drawing.  the background is blue cuz, well, the sunny days with blue skies are the best days for streaking, imo.

how to talk to a pansexual

use small words in small word-strings.  we suck with word-stuffs.

i’m awesome ninja!

me, too!

what does a pansexual’s brain look like?

like rainbow jar cakes.  that’s why we’re so weird; people keep mistaking our brains for delicious snacks and EATING them.  in turn, this makes us want to eat other people’s brains in order to regain cephalization.

what to do if you’re pansexual

start eating other people’s brains and smearing glitter all over your body!

boys men end cock 10 inges fucks end gay men

what does “inges” mean?  is it some sex slang term i’ve never heard of?  is it a sex toy?  also, how young are these boys you’re searching for?  cuz if they’re under 18, you can fuck the fuck off.

pansexualism interesting facts

we’re all ninjas.  there’s an interesting fact for ya.  also, our brains look like rainbow jar cakes.

christmas gifts genderqueer pink

no pink, please.  some fishnets and a plaid shirt would be rad gifts, though.  and some acrylic paints; mine are running out.  also, food stamps would rock neoncore.

pansexual the only valid identity

really?!  somebody should probably tell the gay/bi/straight/ace etc. people!  alert the media!  (seriously, though.  what planet are you from and can i go there on vacation?)

pansexuals have taken over

and now everyone must engage in a worldwide bondage/sex riot!  huzzah!

genitals shoes

wash the shoes before combining those 2 items, k?

do pansexuals fuck toasters?

no, silly!  we only fuck pans.  however, we DO tend to discriminate against non-stick pans cuz we don’t want to get teflon on/in our glistening junk.  lube works better, anyway; we like a little friction.

non-binary trans people everywhere

non-binary trans* folks have joined forces with pansexual folks to take over the world; of COURSE we’re everywhere.  and why?!  cuz we share the dream of a worldwide bondage/sex riot!

why so many pansexuals

because we’ve taken over, remember?  and we’re going to have a worldwide bondage/sex riot?  REMEMBER?  you said you’d wear your harness!

*   *   *

you’re welcome.

we need the word “cisgender”

i’ve been noticing that lots of writers avoid the word “cisgender,” opting instead for “non-trans*” or “not-trans*” or “genetic *” or “bio*.”

matt kailey does it (i love matt kailey!), the government does it when it decides to differentiate between trans* people and cis people, most of the pieces in the (totally awesome) gender outlaws: the next generation do it, and people trying to be inclusive do it (etc.).

i have trouble with this.  i don’t fucking get it.  “cisgender” is a specific, value-neutral term for a group of people who are typically centered as the default.  i think we need to decentralize cis-ness by naming it in an accurate and value-neutral way– such as with the word “cisgender.”

so why are some people so squeamish about the word?  i mean, grues are squeamish about being called “cis” cuz they’re fucking grues and they don’t want the icky trans* folks to talk about them in value-neutral ways– but what about everybody else?  in particular, why are some trans* people reluctant to use the word “cisgender?”

i mean, imagine if matt kailey (i’m picking on him cuz i read his blog voraciously and i’m ultra used to his usage of “non-trans”), a relatively high-profile trans* writer, activist, and educator actually used the word “cisgender.”  i imagine that a shit-ton of cis folks would be introduced to the concept of cis-ness in a rather clear, reaspectful way.  matt seems clever, articulate, and respectful; i think he could do a lot to decentralize cis-ness through naming it.

same thing with gender outlaws: the next generation.  awesome book– i reallyreally love it, but very few of the pieces in it actually call cis people “cis” rather than “non-trans*,” “bio *,” or even “genetic *.”  i think the alternatives to “cis” further centralize cis-ness– so why spread them around?

the main reason i’ve run into is in regards to comprehension.  apparently, people don’t want to introduce other people to new words because they want people to know what they’re talking about.  that seems reasonable, but why not write “cisgender (non-transgender)?”  that’s what some people do and it seems to work awesomely.

i realize that we don’t always have time to educate cis people; if we’re coming out to someone on the fly, we may not want to include new words.  i also realize that we get exhausted with educating people and that the burden of education lies with the oppressors rather than with the oppressed.  taking care of ourselves is more important than going out of our way to educate our oppressors, even though those 2 things often intersect.

that said, when so many trans* folks seem downright squeamish about the word “cisgender–” doesn’t that tell cis people it’s a dirty word (if they ever hear of it)?  and if we’re writing and we have time/space to breathe and to think about our words, why not just call a cis person a cis person?  (i realize that it may be unsafe to use the word “cisgender” in some situations.)

also, if you try to include trans* people in your surveys, your official government form-thingies, your medical intake forms etc. and some trans* person tells you about “cis” and how it’s less problematic than “bio *” or just “woman/man–” please don’t just tell me you don’t want to confuse people.  cuz “cisgender (non-transgender)” is pretty clear to me.

i’m honestly struggling with this; feel free to offer up some wisdom-nuggets of awesome.  seriously, let’s confabulate!

resources: cis is not a slur, grues and “cisgender” is not a slur, john aravosis.

casual transphobia bites hard

i came across this post tonight.  dude, it made me sad.  like, maybe this guy is joking around and shit and his reply to my comment will make me feel like an overly sensitive asshole, but it still seems pretty transphobic.  so here’s the  comment i posted:

trans women are women. they don’t WANT to be women; they ARE women.  likewise, trans men are MEN.  and non-binary trans people, like me, are simply people whose gender is neither male nor female.

gender identity, the feeling that you are a woman/man/other, stands alone.  gender identity affects gender expression, but it isn’t dependent on gender expression.  appearing female doesn’t make a person female.  a female gender identity makes a person female.  gender is internal, man, and trans people are not “unfortunate tweeners”.  trans people often have clear gender identities; we know what our gender is.  you’re the one who is confused.

“just curs[ing]… god” isn’t an option for trans people.  if a person who was born with a penis and who is female still presents as male, that WOMAN is being perceived as male.  that’s a pretty stifling closet, man.  like, it sucks hard, man.  if that woman transitions to a female presentation, whether or not said transition includes surgery and/or hormones, she is doing what she has to do in order to grow as a person and to not simply suffocate in her closet.

furthermore, you simply have no right to conclude that, for example, all men must have dense facial hair and must be over 6 feet in height.  that is sexist and unrealistic.  even people born with penises may grow sparse beards, may be short, may have difficulty building muscle, and/or may be “super adorable”.  what is “manliness”, anyway, and how much “manliness” do YOU ooze?

you say that you’ve “formed an opinion on transgender people”.  here’s a definition for you:


a. An adverse judgment or opinion formed beforehand or without knowledge or examination of the facts.
b. A preconceived preference or idea.
2. The act or state of holding unreasonable preconceived judgments or convictions. See Synonyms at predilection.
3. Irrational suspicion or hatred of a particular group, race, or religion.
4. Detriment or injury caused to a person by the preconceived, unfavorable conviction of another or others. (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/prejudice)

is that a rude comment?  if the blogger just deletes it, should i be surprised?  cuz i don’t know.  i just know that i’m put-off by his totally casual transphobia.

i don’t think he’s trying to be an asshole— i think he’s just totally clueless.  so i don’t want to be rude to this guy and just jump all over him and stuff.  yeah.
what do you peoples think about this?

look! no pants!

this post was inspired by alexthesane (read original post).  check it out.

peoples of all creeds, aliens of all planets, i would like to tell you the veryvery sillyful tale of mx. punk and pants.  this story involves pants-dilemmas, pants-removal, and general pants-related tom-foolery.  to be fair, i must warn you that this post contains “graphic” pictures of mx. punk without pants.  ready?

once beneath a time, i, mx. punk, pull on a pair of baggy guys’ jeans.  they’re super comfy and they take me back to the days when i actually got read as a guy.  i, mx. punk, ponder why i ever stopped wearing guys’ clothes exclusively and how i arrived in this timespace where i always get read as a woman, if not always stereotypically feminine.

i wear guys’ almost shirts every day, but i have this silly, spiky haircut and i almost always wear chicks’ jeans— until now.  so i slide into these faded black jeans and i feel something shifting.  something is remembering that people used to relate to me in a different way than they do now.

before i found my love, i was terrified of the way people tried to lock each other into these tiny fucking boxes— “oh, you’re wearing a cap-sleeved shirt; now you’re a girl FOREVER.”  but my sweetheart accepts fluidity in other people, so he’s sorta been my talisman against erasure as i’ve explored endless sides of myself.

see, i’ve been exploring stuff for the past 3 years.  like boot cut jeans, lacy bras, giggling, and bracelets.  i’ve felt safe enough to try out traditionally feminine things because my sweetheart knows who i am and is not confused about my gender.

i’ve been exploring stuff for three years, but now i’m putting on these guys’ jeans and they’re hooking into my flesh.  they’re gossiping to the something that keeps circling inside me like it’s trying to get comfy.

so i go to school; i’m wearing guys’ clothes, but i don’t pass as a guy.  nothing weird about that; this isn’t the first time i’ve worn guys’ pants since i started exploring more stereotypically girly things.  something feels different, though.  i, mx. punk, feel like parts of me are at war and hissing.

i check myself out when i walk past the office windows; these pants do NOT make my ass look hot.  i mean, they make it look like i don’t even HAVE an ass, let alone a hot ass.  this makes the something very smug; it thinks that women care about having hot asses, but that WE don’t need to care.  we’re just awesome.

(the above paragraph clearly reveals the silliness of the something.  for starters, lotsa men are concerned with their asses and lotsa men wear jeans to show off said asses.  the something is not concerned with logic.)

however, wearing tight, chicks’ jeans for years has led me to expect that my ass will look reallyreally good all the time.  part of me doesn’t want to wear comfy jeans if they don’t make me look good in a stereotypically feminine way.  i realize that i’ve been judging my appearance based on stereotypically female standards.  i mean, fuck, right?

have i become the enemy?  have i really been holding myself up to certain stereotypical standards based on my genitals?  why does my ass have to look good?  and, on the off-beat, why don’t i want to just shave my head again and be all soft and snuggly-headed?  i’ve been exploring stuff, sure, and i certainly don’t look (stereotypically) GIRLY, but does it really matter if i wear jeans that are physically and emotionally comforting if aesthetically disconcerting?

when i get home from school, i tear off my pants, even though they feel all mx. punky.  they make my gender identity (the something, i think) feel safe and somewhat genuine, but they piss off the thing in charge of my gender expression.  they make it feel all ugly and shitty.

so i pull on these torn-up boot cut jeans.  they fit my ass and my thighs, but they’re still mx. punky.  they feel ok for awhile, but the something starts shifting again and grumbling and mumbling things about copping out to fit a stereotype.

so i, mx. punk, hatch a splendid plan.  my plan will stop all bickering between my pieces.  my plan will give me time to shout at all my pieces to just shut the fuck up and to grasp that pants are just pants— nothing more, nothing less.

i will tell my pieces that i don’t have to bind my tits when i wear guys’ jeans— even though that’s what i thirst to do.  it’s what i used to do, but i don’t have to go back to where i used to be.  i, mx. punk, am allowed to move to a new timespace that has less (stereotypically) girly explorings than this timespace does, but that isn’t my oldold timespace.  it’s ok, really, to get read as a woman sometimes, even though i’m not a woman.  i’ll tell my pieces that there’s time to figure all this shit out.  pants are only the symbol, so don’t fret about them.  we’ve got real things to think about, my mx. punky pieces.

and my plan?  it’s this: no pants.  fuck ’em.

is being trans being sexist?

“In my opinion… any “gender identity” is inherently sexist, because you are attaching certain psychological attributes to biological sexes (which then become reified as “genders”) and then identifying your personality as belonging to such ridiculous constructs.”  — BlueTRICKster (read original post)

“But I can’t deny that traditional femininity is in no way right for me.  But how can I say that my penchant for rough-and-tumble games, practical & comfortable clothes, total discomfort with the idea of pregnancy, and having male companions makes me more of a boy than the next girl?  Isn’t that just playing into close-minded stereotypes?  Everybody has qualities that are traditionally masculine or traditionally feminine, and wouldn’t being proud of both my personality and my biological sex be more of a healthy and feminist stance?”  —ladyxxxlazarus (read original post)

“Truth is this, the clothing you wear does not make you male or female, who you are does that for you. So what does it matter?”  —Reneta Xian (read original post)

first off, NO.  no, being trans is obviously NOT being sexist.

this is something i’ve wondered about on many occasions.  i’m formulating the details of my opinion as i go along, so be patient and lemme know if i’m being incoherent or something. also, pleasepleaseplease tell me what you think of all this.  i think this is an important discussion.

as you may know, i’m a non-binary trans person, but i was assigned female at birth.  i believe that woman can be rough and/or gentle, loud and/or quiet, etc.  i know women who fit the male stereotype much better than i do— and i totally respect that they are women.

i believe that sex, gender identity and gender expression are distinct from one another.  i mean, someone with a penis can be a woman while behaving in a stereotypically male fashion.  who the fuck am i to tell this person that women don’t have penises and that women don’t like dirtbiking?  women do whatever they want and it doesn’t matter what genitals they have.

if i believe that sex, gender identity and gender expression are distinct from one another, then why can’t i just go with the gender i was assigned at birth?  i don’t know.  i really don’t know why i feel like a non-binary trans person.  i’m completely mystified.

it’s not that i don’t fit the stereotypes of the gender binary.  i mean, i don’t, but who does?  not fitting the stereotypes might not be a strong enough reason for identifying as non-binary because, well, the stereotypes are spidershit.

i view gender itself as a partly social construct that is incapable of binding people who don’t wish to be bound by it.  many people live happily and naturally with gender. many interactions between people are based on gender; whether or not it is entirely based in fact is irrelevant.  that’s why i don’t just want to get rid of gender; if it works for some people, than good for them.  other people reject gender and live happily and naturally without it.  and that’s pretty splendid, man.

i’m also not trying to create a new stereotype for non-binary people by calling myself genderqueer.  as far as i’m concerned, a person with a pussy who loves wearing pink ball gowns and fucking people with penises can be genderqueer, too.  i just don’t want anything to do with gender and its silly stereotypes and so i call myself “queer”.

i believe that gender is complex and mysterious and that we don’t have to put it under a microscope and dissect it.  i mean, maybe it’s so personal that it doesn’t really have to make sense.  i think gender is also inherently a bit nonsensical— like religion.  it either works for you or it doesn’t, but it doesn’t have to be logical.

so here’s where i’ve arrived: i’m not a non-binary trans person because i do/wear/say non-binary things.  i’m a non-binary trans person and i don’t need a bloody reason.  huzzah! that means i’ve decided that being trans does NOT automatically make you sexist.  sexist is when you label someone else as cis/trans because they do/don’t fit the stereotypes.  transness is perfectly valid and is based on things deeper than the gender stereotypes.

ps: in case anyone is wondering, i don’t prance about in tutus and mustaches.  i prance about in black kitty ears and band shirts (slayer, right now).  mostly, though, i prance about nekkid.

edit (august 11th, 2011)

i’ve just realized that i forgot to discuss something important.

while i do believe that gender stereotypes are social constructs (i doubt that fetuses with penises already like blue), i do realize that gender itself is also partly based on biology.  for example, i’m not saying that a trans person could be raised to be cis.  just saying.

shoes don’t have genitals, but the gender monsters will still munch them

i work at a children’s consignment store.  we sell used children’s clothes, toys and equipment.  we also carry a few product lines that we order new from dealers or manufacturers or whatevers.

like robeez shoes.

about half of the robeez shoes we sell are mainly pink, white and purple.  these shoes feature tiaras, unicorns and flowers. the other half-ish is mainly blue, green and brown.  these shoes feature grumpy bears, dogs and cars.  the catalogue labels these shoes “girls” or “boys” and all these shoes sell veryvery well.

a water strider-sized number of the robeez shoes we sell are white, yellow, tan and grey.  these shoes feature sheep and weather symbols.  the catalogue labels these shoes “neutral”.

let me tell you something that may not surprise you at all; the “neutral” shoes don’t really sell.  seriously.  nobody buys them.  it’s not that they aren’t colorful and imaginative; they’re awesome.

people often point out the “neutral” shoes and ask me if they’re for boys or for girls.  i’ve noticed that if a parent with, say, a little boy, asks me if the “neutral” shoes are for boys or for girls, and i confess that the catalogue says they’re for everybody, the parent will look uncomfortable and will end up settling for something blue with cars on it.

sometimes, people even ask me if the shoes labeled “boys” are for girls— thinking, i suppose, that girls are allowed to wear green shoes with cute frogs on them. if i say that the shoes are labelled “boys” in the catalogue, they’ll buy something safe and pink for their little girl.

this is so ridiculous that  i don’t even know where to start.  in fact, a discussion of the reasons why i think this is uncool is probably enough material for an entire post.  basically, though, i think kids should arrive at their own gender expression (and their own gender!) without being bullied.

i can’t exactly be the gender anarchist! (with the snazzy theme song and the horde of rainbow sidekicks) while i’m at work.  i could get fired.  also, if i go around telling people how to raise their kids, some tired-looking mom is gonna go all kung-fu on my ass and maim me terribly.

so what’s a genderpunk to do?!  i’ll tell you what i’ve learned.

if somebody comes in looking for shoes for, say, a boy, i can just tell them that all our shoes are for boys.  then that person will just buy whatever shoes seem the most fantastic to them.  zounds!

this round goes to… the gender anarchist!  huzzah!

today i will totally do stuff (like come out)

my partner is just fucking plasmic.

he seems to really accept my gender (or absence thereof) and to understand that the gender binary is a social construct that doesn’t work for everybody.  we have casual confabulations about gender expression, gender identity, and trans issues.  my partner hasn’t called me his girlfriend in ages; he calls me his partner.  he tries with all his furry might to apply non-gendered pronouns to me.

my partner still snags on the pronoun thing.

when he tells me silly stories about us in the third person, he generally calls me “it”.  i guess he’s ok with calling me “it” when he’s being silly, but he won’t call me “it” when he’s being solemn.  i don’t mind being called “it”.  i think the word is so jarring that it makes it harder to use feminine pronouns by accident, if that makes any sense to you.

we’ve been experimenting with the “ze/zer” pronoun set with some success.  the trouble with it is that you have to over-enunciate the words in order to make them sound different than feminine pronouns.  mostly, though, “ze” is fabulous.  my partner is getting better about using my name or “ze” instead of feminine pronouns and i’m veryvery stoked that he’s as supportive as he is.

when my partner is chatting to someone other than me, however, he usually uses feminine pronouns.  like if someone says, “how’s mx. punk? is she still looking for work?”  it’s understandable that my partner might say, “she’s happy and awesome— except for the part about looking for work.”

it isn’t that my partner thinks of me as a female— i know that.  i know he respects my gender and i know he tries veryvery hard to avoid applying feminine pronouns to me.  it’s just that other people trick him into applying feminine pronouns to me.

still, that’s pretty good for a cis man who only knows one person of non-binary gender and who grew up believing that the gender binary had the last word in everything.  actually, that’s pretty good for ANYbody— i know a few queers who aren’t half as understanding as he is.  i know i’m lucky to have such a supportive partner.

i want more.  is that greedy?  i want my partner to suddenly stop with the feminine pronouns.  i want to be out as genderqueer.  not out as in telling people when it’s appropriate, but out as in being instantly recognized by strangers for what i am.  i want people to know what i mean when i come out to them as genderqueer.  sometimes, this closet is stifling.

i know this culture doesn’t really leave space for non-binary gender and i know that isn’t going to change anytime soon.  i totally accept that.  really, i do.

i think my discontent may be more about the times i haven’t come out when i could’ve and less about whether or not my partner occasionally calls me a girl or whether strangers assign me a binary gender.  i think i would feel less stifled if i tried harder to be heard/seen/felt.

i need to come out to more people.  i need to speak up for myself a little more often than i do.  sure, sometimes it just isn’t appropriate, but why haven’t i come out to my landlady?  she would be cool about it and she’s like family to me, so why haven’t i told her?  why haven’t i come out to any of my teachers?  why do i let so many people who might be down with my gender just see me as something i ain’t?

this has gotta change.  now.  today i will not stand by while people make erroneous assumptions about my gender.  today i will totally do stuff.

tomorrow, too.

update (june 26, 2011)

i came out to my landlady a few days ago— and she said, “i know, mx. punk”.  dude!  she said she didn’t know that i cared about pronouns, but that she’d already picked up on my otherness.  she didn’t think i was female!  she said so!  and now she’s calling me a person instead of calling me a girl!  holy flying caterpillars!

i’m too excited to even type properly hjdfhjdsf7bhfjfffd!!!!!!

update (two minutes later)

oh, yeah.  a flying caterpillar isn’t really that absurd.  i mean, if the caterpillar waits awhile it’ll grow up to be a butterfly.  fuck.  ok, so pretend i wrote, “holy flying porcupines” instead.  ok?  ok.

update (two seconds later)

porcupines don’t fly, right?  am i right?

my strange bathroom experience

today, while on a massive job-quest in the mall, i participated in a strange bathroom scene.  it did not involve eggplant, bondage, or cameras; i want to tell you about it anyway.

first, some background.  as a person of non-binary gender, i find public bathrooms to be pretty awkward.

sometimes, i get to choose between skirts and pants.  i love this because one of the bathrooms is clearly labeled with a symbol i immediately relate to: pants.  i may have rockin’ tits, but i’ve never worn a skirt— so i should use the “pants” bathroom, right?  i love pants!

other times, i get to choose between “women” and “men”.  i sooooooo do not love this.  i’m not a woman and i’m not a man, so what should i do?  should i occasionally bind my chest in public so i can use the men’s bathroom?  should i admit defeat and use the women’s bathroom because i have lovely, c-cup tits?  should i piss outside in the garden like a good kitty?

when i DO use the women’s bathroom, i feel as though i’ve admitted that my appearance renders me female.  i find it humiliating.  i keep my head down, my shoulders up, and i cringe quietly about my business.  i hate how the people who see me in there instantly believe that i belong in the women’s bathroom.  i hate knowing that they all assume i’m something i ain’t.

when i use the men’s bathroom, i don’t usually have any trouble as long as i keep to myself.  this is pretty bizarre, actually, because, as i mentioned before, i have unbound tits.  i also wear cat ears, 15.7 trillion colorful bracelets, and star stickers.  i suppose my men’s band shirts and punk jacket allow me to “pass” without close inspection.  that’s not to say that i’ve NEVER had trouble in the men’s bathroom— i have.  ohBOYohBOY, i have.  anyway, i lack the nerve to use the men’s bathroom very often at all.

on to today’s bathroom experience!

to start with, i have to piss.

then i have to choose between “men”, “women”, “handicapped” and “family”.  that’s not fair, people!  those labels are way too specific; they make me feel like non-binary people have been deliberately left out.  i’m sure it was an oversight, but i still feel a tad left out.

if my choices were pants, skirts, pants/skirts/wheelchair— that’d be cool because i could imagine that i might belong in the non-gendered bathroom.  but no, you have to go and label the bathrooms so clearly that i can’t pretend to belong in any of them.

there aren’t any families approaching, so i choose the family bathroom.  i go to the bathroom like any other human being.  i don’t do anything weird like masturbate or make a mess or take too long.  i just piss, flush, wash my hands— and then the door swings open.

i hadn’t locked the door; the latchable bathroom stall had lulled me into thinking that i didn’t really need to lock the door.  i mean, what if some kid had dumped juice on their hands and their desperate mother had wanted nothing more than to de-sticky the plump appendages of their juicy spawn?  i could shut the stall door behind me and still urinate in secrecy.  right?

so this young couple with two toddlers shove busily into the bathroom, all happy and tired about shopping.  then they notice me with my cat ears, spiky punk jacket, torn-up jeans, and obviously child-free state.  the parents are clearly not stoked to see a lone person hogging one of the two sinks in the family bathroom.  the mother gets this pinched, bitchy look on her mouth but she doesn’t say anything right away.

i attempt to wash and dry my hands with as much dignity and efficiency as i can muster.  the parents just stand there and look at me.

i keep drying my hands.  they keep looking at me.

forever.  seriously, it seems to take me forever to get most of the water off my hands.  i just want to get out— i sorta feel like i kinda have the right to be in this bathroom, but i feel like they’re squishing me with their eyes and i don’t wanna make a scene.

i’m done, anyway.  time for me to fuck off.  i open the door to leave, head still held high with enduring dignity—

“this bathroom is for FAMilies ONly.  Not just ANyone can use it.”  the woman emphasizes certain syllables in order to sound ever so slightly whiny and pushy.  she doesn’t even look at me when she says it— she just keeps washing her hands.

“well, i’m not male or female.  my gender is non-binary and i don’t belong in the women’s bathroom any more than i belong in here.”  my head is kinda swirly because, these days, i’m not used to confrontations, but my mouth actually seems to know what it’s doing.  “i’m not a woman, i’m not a man, i’m not handicapped, and i’m not a family.  i still have to choose a bathroom, though.  have a pretty splendid day, lady.”

i reopen the door and i stride through it, both shaken and proud—


the woman calls me a pervert as though under her breath, just loudly enough for me to hear.  as though being transgender is a perversion.  i can’t be bothered to continue the confrontation with this petty woman, so i leave.

i keep pretending to just be proud of standing up for myself without being rude, but i’m pretty quivery.  it’s been years since anyone has called me names.

sure, i used to have to defend myself all the time, but people tend to treat me with more kindness and respect than they used to.  i don’t know why, maybe i attract a different kind of person now, but most people i meet are pretty awesome.

this little and squeaky part of me starts wondering if the woman is right.  most people think i look pretty female, so maybe i should just use the women’s bathroom.  it would mean an end to bathroom confrontations.

plus, people with giant strollers shouldn’t have to use the cramped women’s or men’s bathrooms.  that’s what the family bathrooms are for; people with bulky strollers and rambunctious kids.

the other part of me thinks i should keep using non-gendered bathrooms whenever i can, as long as there aren’t families or handicapped people waiting to use them.  this part of me thinks that using the women’s bathroom when i don’t have to would be a humiliating defeat.  that family in the mall had to wait for less than a minute.  actually, the mother didn’t have to wait to wash her hands until i was leaving— there were two sinks.

???  i need opinions on this, people.  what do you think about all this?

i know i’m going to continue to use non-gendered bathrooms whenever i can.  i know i’m also going to have the occasional bathroom confrontation and i’m probably going to continue to experience doubt.  when i have to piss, i’m just going to pick a bathroom and piss.  when all the choices are wrong, what else can i do?

but if there were a bathroom with a rainbow on it, i’d use it every time!

welcome to the awesome!

i am mx. punk and this is my pretty splendid blog.  if you want to know what i look like, you may direct your attention to the left of this text.  as you can see, i am veryvery sexy.  plus, i’m an artist of uncommon talent.

what is genderpunk?  genderpunk is about having a diy attitude toward gender.  it’s also about gender anarchy.

as a genderqueer pansexual thing, i exist outside the gender binary and i wanna tell you about what that’s like for me.  as a genderqueer pansexual thing, i  wanna hear about what it’s like to be you and what it’s like to be the gender you are.

mostly, i want this to be a space for exploring non-binary gender, transgender issues, and whether or not dinosaurs would want to fingerpaint if they had fingers.  if you have any thoughts on any of these or related topics, shout them out!