You are beautiful just as you are.

agender, beauty, communities of care, disability, genderqueer, non-binary, resilience, transgender

TRIGGER WARNING: struggling to be who you are

You are beautiful just as you are.

You, yes, you, shine in the sun and glisten in the dark. You light up the world with your full true self, with your you-ness, with your real, hard-earned concentrate of you.

Not everyone has had to work so hard just to be able to fill themselves up, to burst with their beauty the way that you do. Not everyone has had to struggle just to perch on the ledge of a mountain of possible faces, possible selves.

You have, and that has made the carving of yourself more defined, sharper, almost painfully detailed, intricate. Even when all the lines haven’t been filled in yet, we can hold who you are.

Yes, you are beautiful just as you are. You are beautiful when you are broken and sad and it looks like the road will never end, like it will always be muddy and rough. You are beautiful when you are singing a song deep from your gut. You are beautiful when you reach out, yet again, to someone else.

Never forget your fullness of self.

I am so glad that you are you, bursting with you, brimming, sparkling, bubbling over with a whole stew of you, simmering for years till perfection. Thank you for sharing it. Thank you for lifting off from a small perch of yourself and flying into the sky.

We shouldn’t have to struggle, but we are more stunning for it.

I am glad you are here with me.

Happy Genderqueer-oween!

agender, cissexism, dysphoria, fashion, genderfluid, genderqueer, glitter, Halloween, non-binary, transgender

TW: binary clothes shopping experience, suppression of gender expression at work

I was certain for weeks that I wanted to be a ninja turtle for Halloween. I haven’t actually seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a long time, but somehow all the new-movie advertising reached the insides of my pop-culture-insulated cave, and I remembered them and thought they were cool. A random person at a party informed me I was Donatello, as I chose “bookish” as the best adjective for me. A teacher I used to work with offered up one of her kid’s old ninja turtle shells. Things were set. I haven’t had an opportunity to wear a costume in a few years, so I was pretty excited.

Then this past Extra Hellish Week rolled around, and I didn’t have time to find a costume until today. I haven’t been expressing anything particularly frilly at work, because I don’t want anyone saying, “See?? I told you you were a girl!” It might sound odd, but even though I only sometimes wear “boyish” things, and never really identify as masculine or butch (or feminine or femme for that matter), and certainly don’t want to be seen as a butch woman, I’d rather be read as gender non-conforming in some way than not at all—even though, right now, I’d probably more consistently say that if I had to be perceived in a binary fashion, “fancy boy” would be what I’d prefer.

The result, though, of suppressing all other expressions at work except “dapper,” “bookish,” “flashy,” and, sometimes, “surfer dude,”—basically, suppressing my fairy/pansy self and my glam “lady” side—is that I have become increasingly desperate to express those parts of myself whenever I can. Usually meaning, whenever I care less about if people see me as a girl, or if I feel like most people around me won’t make assumptions about my gender.

So I suppose that I shouldn’t have been too surprised this morning when I woke up, and after the usual half-hour of what-to-wear panic, I determined that I wanted to be something frillier for Halloween. By the time I got off of work, I knew I wanted to buy all the flouncy, sparkly fabrics on Halloween sale at the fabric store, and safety-pin them together. (I haven’t sewed anything since our pillow-sewing project in seventh grade.)

After walking through the girls’ section and sheepishly trying on too-tight XL Frozen and My Little Pony shirts, and bemoaning the fact that people only seem to put glitter on “girls’” clothing, I wandered through the too-cute toddler dresses and high tops, wishing myself baby-sized again. By the time I tried on a girls’ pink flouncy dress that didn’t button in the back, and saw at least 30 princess Halloween dresses, I knew what I wanted to be: a fairy princess. The problem was, I wanted to be this 20 years too late, according to society. At the Halloween store, they even had a unicorn costume! And a RAINBOW FAIRY costume! But only for people 8 years old and under, or for very small others.

I am just small enough to be tempted by some of these costumes, but no luck. I am still cobbling together some sort of costume (I vetoed the LED-light tutu because it was $30, and I did get some girls’ rainbow fairy wings), but it’s looking like my dreams of full fairy-princess glory will have to be put off for some other time. Why do “women’s” fancy dresses come only in darker, more “dignified” colors? What, may I ask, is wrong with bright pink, lavender, and tulle? I am here to demand glittery clothes in all sizes! Go glitter or go home!

Just some basic fashion questions here on Genderqueer-oween. If you celebrate, hope you all have a genderfabulous evening!