Were you interested in submitting an entry to the anthology on transmasculine sexuality but didn’t get a chance? One more shot…
Call for Submissions: Transmasculine Sexuality
Attn: Queers, gender fucks, gender deviants and lovers thereof. This is a submission call for an anthology of transmasculine desire. If you are a trans or gender variant, masculine-identified person (whether AMAB and AFAB) or if you want to talk about a relationship with someone who is, then your contributions are welcome.
Lets talk about how we negotiate sex. How does gender identity come into play? How do you manage consent and body disphoria? When have you been surprised by your own attraction and how have you dealt with it? What role has community played in how your sexuality has developed? How have your desires and boundaries changed as your identities have evolved? What do you think needs to be said?
Submit any printable original work (including essays, short stories, comics, prose, photography, etc.) addressing the theme NO LATER THAN May 17th, 2010. Any comments, questions, suggestions, or submission can be sent to inthemarginszine@gmail.com . Please remember to include a name you want to be published under (or specify that you’d prefer for it to remain anonymous) and two sentences to introduce (you or) your submission.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Submission Call: Transmasculine Sexuality
Attn: Queers, gender fucks, gender deviants and lovers thereof. This is a submission call for an anthology of transmasculine desire. If you identify as somewhere along the transmasculine spectrum (Aggressive, FTM, Boi, Tranny fag, etc.) or you find yourself attracted to those who are, then your contributions are welcome.
Lets talk about how we negotiate sex. How does gender identity come into play? How do you manage consent and body disphoria? When have you been surprised by your own attraction and how have you dealt with it? What role has community played in how your sexuality has developed? How have your desires and boundaries changed as your identities have evolved? What do you think needs to be said?
Submit any printable original work (including essays, short stories, comics, poetry, prose, photography, etc.) addressing the theme by April 24th, 2010. Any comments, questions, suggestions, or submission can be sent to techietranny@gmail.com Please remember to include a name you want to be published under (or specify that you’d prefer for it to remain anonymous) and two sentences to introduce (you or) your submission.
Lets talk about how we negotiate sex. How does gender identity come into play? How do you manage consent and body disphoria? When have you been surprised by your own attraction and how have you dealt with it? What role has community played in how your sexuality has developed? How have your desires and boundaries changed as your identities have evolved? What do you think needs to be said?
Submit any printable original work (including essays, short stories, comics, poetry, prose, photography, etc.) addressing the theme by April 24th, 2010. Any comments, questions, suggestions, or submission can be sent to techietranny@gmail.com Please remember to include a name you want to be published under (or specify that you’d prefer for it to remain anonymous) and two sentences to introduce (you or) your submission.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Body trust
Last week I referred to going on T as the most anticlimactic life-changing event I’ll ever experience. Moments of impatience accentuate my reverence—that one can change so completely, that this body can become almost anything I am willing to make it, that the very constraints of possibility can be pushed to their limits. A half wall of mirrors entices me to examine these curves for traces of overnight body alchemy
T has changed the way I relate to my body. What has long been a no man’s land riddled with insecurity and mild contempt has been renewed by curiosity. My body has become the site of progress, of new potential, of possibility. It is as if, after being estranged for so long, I am considering reconciliation. I withhold judgment, studying it, trying to see it anew. I let it reveal itself to me. It is as if I am learning to trust—both myself with my body and my body with myself.
T has changed the way I relate to my body. What has long been a no man’s land riddled with insecurity and mild contempt has been renewed by curiosity. My body has become the site of progress, of new potential, of possibility. It is as if, after being estranged for so long, I am considering reconciliation. I withhold judgment, studying it, trying to see it anew. I let it reveal itself to me. It is as if I am learning to trust—both myself with my body and my body with myself.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Letter
It’s been months since I resumed therapy. In past years talk about relationships dominate the 50 minutes of gaping awkwardness. I had shared a sustained suspicion of therapy as practice, but I wasn’t about to insult what she did. I returned from my summer internship with an agenda. Our eyes lock during session. “Why do you come?,” she prods me
“because I have to.”
Silence.
“Because mid-century, a well-meaning and well-respected physician decided that you get to decide that I want what I want.”
“You don’t see the advantage? You know… not everyone thinks through things as much as you do.”
“I talk to trans people everyday. It’s not something people take lightly. Every time you tell someone, they ask you if you’re fucking sure. They practically beg you not be.”
She was sympathetic. A sympathetic professional whose career is built on the assumption that people can’t solve their own problems. I built my life on the conviction that I was the only one who could change anything that mattered in my own life. We spent months grappling for common ground. I demanded a letter, and eventually refused to return. I graduated and moved half way across the country. A week later I got my letter in the mail.
“because I have to.”
Silence.
“Because mid-century, a well-meaning and well-respected physician decided that you get to decide that I want what I want.”
“You don’t see the advantage? You know… not everyone thinks through things as much as you do.”
“I talk to trans people everyday. It’s not something people take lightly. Every time you tell someone, they ask you if you’re fucking sure. They practically beg you not be.”
She was sympathetic. A sympathetic professional whose career is built on the assumption that people can’t solve their own problems. I built my life on the conviction that I was the only one who could change anything that mattered in my own life. We spent months grappling for common ground. I demanded a letter, and eventually refused to return. I graduated and moved half way across the country. A week later I got my letter in the mail.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Urbanity
Spent my time on the train contemplating urban life. What drives people to and away from cities... How different my perception of mobility is than other people I know... How transient queer and youth cultures have developed over decades. Then, I designed some desktop backgrounds from copyleft and self-made imagery.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Unexpected compliments
As a graduating senior, I have find myself being called upon to reflect upon the last several years of my life. One such occasion was Monday, when I had to defend my undergrad thesis. "Defend" hardly seems like an accurate adjective as it was much more of a conversation dedicated to fostering my ideas and acknowledging my accomplishments.
My examiner arrived early and we built a rapport pretty immediately. She was engaged from the beginning. I felt as though I was speaking too much, but I pushed on, reassuring myself that I felt like I was taking the spotlight because it was indeed the appropriate time to do so. After a full lunch, we headed into the academic building to squat a room for the occasion.
Much to my surprise, many of the questions they asked directly or indirectly we about myself. Partially because my work is very important to who I am and what I am about, partially because I criticized myself in my work for not talking more about where I was coming from through out the process. For whatever reason, I ended up expounding on how my understandings had been shaped over the last few years and how the shifts in my own sense of what is important changed the kind of work I wanted to focus on. I nailed most of the questions.
I left as they deliberated my grade. When I came back in, they had written it on the board. It was anti-climactic. After having thought about all the ways my education has given me the space and support to deconstruct and recreate myself, the letter felt like a hollow representation of that process. What came next was the most striking phase of the process, as my outside examiner and the two faculty I worked intensively with stepped forward to compliment me. One by one, they told me how inspirational it was to work with me, how genuine my dedication was, how interesting and thoughtful my perspective. But then they moved on to say things I never could have imagined being said about me four years ago. About my perseverance, about my willingness to take risk. And it hits me that while I was busy talking and writing and shooting and editing, I missed myself becoming who I am.
My examiner arrived early and we built a rapport pretty immediately. She was engaged from the beginning. I felt as though I was speaking too much, but I pushed on, reassuring myself that I felt like I was taking the spotlight because it was indeed the appropriate time to do so. After a full lunch, we headed into the academic building to squat a room for the occasion.
Much to my surprise, many of the questions they asked directly or indirectly we about myself. Partially because my work is very important to who I am and what I am about, partially because I criticized myself in my work for not talking more about where I was coming from through out the process. For whatever reason, I ended up expounding on how my understandings had been shaped over the last few years and how the shifts in my own sense of what is important changed the kind of work I wanted to focus on. I nailed most of the questions.
I left as they deliberated my grade. When I came back in, they had written it on the board. It was anti-climactic. After having thought about all the ways my education has given me the space and support to deconstruct and recreate myself, the letter felt like a hollow representation of that process. What came next was the most striking phase of the process, as my outside examiner and the two faculty I worked intensively with stepped forward to compliment me. One by one, they told me how inspirational it was to work with me, how genuine my dedication was, how interesting and thoughtful my perspective. But then they moved on to say things I never could have imagined being said about me four years ago. About my perseverance, about my willingness to take risk. And it hits me that while I was busy talking and writing and shooting and editing, I missed myself becoming who I am.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Messy Chef: Baking extravaganza
I had my first real day of freedom today as the snow froze away all my obligations and I was left with an oven, a slightly colder than I could be comfortable in living room, and a graphic novel about prison life in Japan.
Like any good geek, I decided I'd make my house warmed by baking confectioneries and f document myself in the process. Please enjoy the fruit of that labour:
Like any good geek, I decided I'd make my house warmed by baking confectioneries and f document myself in the process. Please enjoy the fruit of that labour:
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