Today is my first day returning to government work, and my first day of doing so openly as a trans woman—albeit only to my friends and family so far; I got this job under the pretense that I was a man. I’m not sure when, or if, I will come out at work. My current contract is for only 4 months, with no indication whether or not there will be room for extension. I’m not worried about finding work; as an internal applicant I’ll have several options open to me when my contract runs out. But the question of coming out as trans remains. I am writing this in a…
As I progress through my third decade of being alive, I gradually come to a realization—gender is a strange thing. It doesn’t work quite the way I thought it did. This story is an attempt to articulate what I understand about my gender, and what I instinctively know.
A short essay imitating the style of “The Knife” by Richard Selzer. Buying high-heeled shoes from the Women’s department can be an arduous and challenging task. The difficulty increases when you are a masculine-presenting person experimenting with androgynous dress for the first time.
My hair has always been coarse—sand and salt and pine needles bound into black keratinous strands. It sprouts and surfaces, growing not just from my scalp, but everywhere I have skin. My hair has always been with me. Even in my earliest years it was there, a seed waiting for spring, a line of chemical code waiting for puberty.