I identify as genderqueer. I identify as non-binary. My pronouns are they/them/their. I am transgender.
For me, being trans* means:
- existing on a sliding scale of gender
- having fought through years of social conditioning and outright oppression to figure out who I am
- finally being comfortable in my own mind and body
- being closeted at work for fear that I will be fired (there are no protections for trans* people where I am, and I am my family’s breadwinner)
- speaking up about trans* issues at work anyway (it is a glass closet)
- having my right to parent my child called into question
- building a community of other trans* and gender-variant people who fucking get it
- valuing the cisgender allies I have in my life who, by some miracle also fucking get it
Writers’ personal experience seeps into what they write, sometimes on purpose and sometimes inadvertently. I am a trans* writer–I am also a white writer, and a writer with a complicated class history and a queer writer and a writer who struggles with mental and physical disabilities. All of these things shape the form and the content of my writing. My interlinked identities inform the kinds of characters I create, the worlds they live in and the words they speak.
I am proud to be a trans* writer. I hope to breathe life into trans* characters who are real, who speak to other trans* people, who contribute to a body of literature that is growing and blossoming and making a whole community of people who have always been here, but who have always been pushed to the margins finally visible. We are here. We have always been here. We will always be here.