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.
Showing posts with label medical transition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medical transition. Show all posts
Monday, May 3, 2010
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Distance and Interest
I feel like so many of the things I have dealt with in my life have made my feel more distanced and disconnected from the people around me.
When my mother was crazy, it made me feel crazy. Apart. Estranged from notions of friendship and family that were illusory to me yet somehow implied in the existence of my peers. I needed to be away from her, and so I went to Peru. I gave myself what I needed. I was independent. Competent. Strong. But for all the good it did me in my life, it was another experience that only makes the distance seem somewhat spectacular. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve learned how to be an interesting person at the expense of being a relatable person. It’s another in an ever expanding collection… my very own cabinet of curiosities where my life is what is on display.
Now I want to transition. When I first started thinking of transitioning, I had people in my life who valued me for my gender ambiguity, people who loved and coveted my genderquuerdom, people who I related to more because of my boyish desires. Now so much has changed in my life in terms of relationships. I feel like to transition would be to transition out of community, to taking another step away from support with no foreseeable corollary on the other side.
It’s no wonder that so much of what I focus my energies on is trying to find community in struggle. I worry that dealing with rather than striving for is the only future I’m prepared for. As if I have reached a point in my life where the only kind of connection that seems authentic is the relationship between people learning how to deal with shit together. As if the only love I believe in is love among comrades.
When my mother was crazy, it made me feel crazy. Apart. Estranged from notions of friendship and family that were illusory to me yet somehow implied in the existence of my peers. I needed to be away from her, and so I went to Peru. I gave myself what I needed. I was independent. Competent. Strong. But for all the good it did me in my life, it was another experience that only makes the distance seem somewhat spectacular. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve learned how to be an interesting person at the expense of being a relatable person. It’s another in an ever expanding collection… my very own cabinet of curiosities where my life is what is on display.
Now I want to transition. When I first started thinking of transitioning, I had people in my life who valued me for my gender ambiguity, people who loved and coveted my genderquuerdom, people who I related to more because of my boyish desires. Now so much has changed in my life in terms of relationships. I feel like to transition would be to transition out of community, to taking another step away from support with no foreseeable corollary on the other side.
It’s no wonder that so much of what I focus my energies on is trying to find community in struggle. I worry that dealing with rather than striving for is the only future I’m prepared for. As if I have reached a point in my life where the only kind of connection that seems authentic is the relationship between people learning how to deal with shit together. As if the only love I believe in is love among comrades.
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