Trans And Relative Dimensions In Space, by Ayla Sullivan

I’ve been telling myself for a long time there’s gotta be an easier way to come out to my family. An accessible way. No academic jargon. No easy to google slang, because I know for a fact y’all are too lazy to ever do work you can just push onto a Black person to explain for you.

My grandfather raised me on visual media, charted years of golden era kinda love. His favourite Doctor is Tom Baker and his undying, fanboy passion is a Galifrayian typa magic he has passed onto me. I’d redo my coming out with him in simpler terms. Tell him my gender is the TARDIS because it’s bigger on the inside. My queerness is powered by a tesseract. I am expansive in all dimensions, in every time, and fluid. This a queerness and a transness that cannot, ever die. A typa queer that never has to fear death, only trust in my own regeneration promise. Of course, though, what is gayer than fearing your friends’ death? Constantly trying to find joy in the danger of navigating your life, traveling so often because home is its own transformative property, and knowing, always knowing, solidarity is a threat and your companions endanger themselves because of their proximity to you. Of course it’s easy to feel like the last of your kind in a genocide.

Still, this why every queer out there is equipped with two hearts. We don’t let our heart break no more. We cuddle double the love, double the wound, and can repurpose any household item, especially a screwdriver, into a weapon, a saviour, a map, all purpose tool.

This queerness knows every language, speaks to every wave, trusts in the universe despite knowing we could easily be Gods of it as this point, know how to hide by whatever identification people need to see to believe us, always embrace the loneliness. Even if it is the only thing to stay.

I am not new, but an ancient force, still hopeful, still surviving. I’m the motherfucking Doctor and don’t you fucking forget it. Bitch.

More information: aylaxc.sullivan (at) gmail (dot) com

Maddox, from Just The Way It Is, by Rory Starkman

MADDOX: Ugh. What am I doing? Okay. Dear Mom. I’m writing this letter to tell you something very important that’s going on in my life that you might not understand. To be fair, a lot of the time I don’t understand myself, but I know we haven’t been close and you want to know about my life. So, here goes. Do you remember when I was younger and I wanted to be a boy? Sure, you indulged me by shopping in the boys section every now and then, but you never really gave up on seeing me as your beautiful little girl. I was always forced to wear a skirt or a dress at fancy occasions and you always bought me tight pink shirts that I hated. But I thought you’d love and accept me more if I maintained a certain degree of femininity. I know it’s not your fault; it’s the social construction of the gender binary. Let me explain. The gender binary says you can be one of two things only; male or female, boy or girl. But it’s a social construct. We made it up! It isn’t real, but we don’t think to question it! You didn’t and I didn’t either. So I’m not blaming you. I understand that we are all just humans working with what we’re shown, how we learn, and our experiences. So Mom, what I really want to say is that I’m not a boy or a girl. I’m not your daughter. I’m just your kid and I don’t want to be gendered as a female anymore. I’m also changing my name to Maddox now and I would appreciate it if you would start calling me that. This has been slow to change and very hard for me, but the process has certainly begun and I know now that it will never end. Love you. (to Maggie) There. Now what do you have to say for yourself?

Context: Maddox is a non-binary trans identified person who spends the whole play recounting their life as assigned female at birth; trying to be a girl named “Maggie”, while discovering their own gender identity in all of its complexity. In the play, Maggie is another character and is present during this monologue to argue with Maddox’s points. The letter is equally to Maddox’s mother as well as their past self, Maggie. The monologue occurs in the show as Maddox realizes the moment when they began to have control over the body that they share with Maggie.

More information:  rorystrongman (at) gmail (dot) com

 

Gavin, from God Herself Could Not Sink This Ship, by Leanna Keyes

GAVIN. (trans man) Look: when you’re young and trans, you harbor this secret hope that there’s a cure. That you can take something or feel something and then you won’t be trans. For me and for her, that thing was love. If we could just fall in love and be a man and a woman, we’d be cured. We never said that to each other in words. But I was her girlfriend and she was my boyfriend. I was the first person she ever came out to. We’d been out at the mall all day and I jokingly suggested that she try on some girl clothes. She did. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so terrified with a grin on their face. That night she broke down into tears in my arms. She told me that she was trans and there was nothing she could do to change and she understood if I never wanted to see her again. And it was just so absurd. I came out to her too. The thing is, when you’re transitioning, you’re so wrapped up in your gender that you don’t even have time to think about an orientation. So I told her, “Amber, I’m bisexual, so wherever you end up is fine with me.” And I got her hormones through hell and high water. And here’s the thing they don’t tell you about hormones. Hormones make your gender shut up long enough to let you have an orientation more complicated than “somebody love me, please!” And somehow I ended up as a gay man she ended up as a lesbian woman. We stuck it out through high school, because what else were two closeted trans people going to do? But eventually we had to admit that our orientations and genders just didn’t match up anymore. No… that’s not right. We needed to prove that our genders didn’t match up. I needed to prove it. Because who’s ever heard a gay man that’s dating a woman? A real gay man? So I broke up with her. A year later, we’re both in college and we’re thick as thieves. We told ourselves that we were just bros. Just the two musketeers. And that’s what we were… all we were! Until we weren’t.

Context: This is spoken by a young trans man named Gavin. He and Amber grew up together and both ended up coming out as trans while in a relationship with each other. They have since broken up, and Gavin now identifies as gay and Amber now identifies as a lesbian. But Gavin has some complicated feelings left for her. This monologue is him speaking to Amber’s current girlfriend, trying to explain what it was like to be trans and in love.

More information: http://www.leannakeyes.com/god-herself-could-not-sink-this-ship.html