Genderless–An Experiment In Identity (Holistic Science, 2012)

6 pansexual_flag_poster-rbb9ca3732f804823bfeec847071e0e46_wii_4003 GenderqueerinfinityheartAs Holistic Science is a science that attempts to tackle the truths in subjectivity, and gender is entirely personal in many regards, I have been meditating, chewing on and slowly introducing to those around me the idea that I am an agendered human, and attempting to assume the gender of other humans as little as possible, and then journaling on my thoughts, discussions and concerns. The first of these is a summary of my first few days wherein my early morning thoughts took particular form, the entries after that are (usually) numbered. Throughout this experiment I have changed around other thought patterns and weighed this as both a meditative practice and as a possible future for myself. These are my thoughts.

Journal Entry 1, Days 1-3 or 4
I feel far away from my body. Denouncing the thought, “I am female”. In its place, I am a person, neither female nor male. My perception of my body is different, I feel farther away, and also more aware of my parts in relation to the rest of me. I also feel peaceful.
I notice that the desire I feel towards what I would normally identify as “female” or “male” persons somewhat diminished in no longer thinking of them as such. Some aspect, even as a pansexual [a person who can be attracted to someone of any gender] of my sexuality is tied to the duality. I tend to, on meeting a trans person, recatagorize them within the binary, “Oh, you’re a woman” or whatever they identify as, and then treat entirely on that basis. I recognize the people who identify as entirely androgynous people but I feel strange. How can I romanticize people I have no idea/script for? How interesting how integral this is. (I remember having a similar process in my early coming out actually, when I first realized I could be attracted to female-identified humans. I was like, “How do you love a woman?” even though, I was… in love with a woman) I can be attracted to every trait, hair, ear shape, to their feet, but because my ability to romanticize even entirely gender neutral areas of their body is informed by my idea of male and female. Even when I prefer identical traits in any of them. The baseness of that reaction is surprising to me. [ I have always known that how I romanticize my relationships with women and men are different (more idealized with males, feel warmer and safer with women, to sum it up quickly),] The base reaction remains in the ascetics but it’s informed by cultural ideals more than I could have imagined. Even in being attracted to people who are multigendered my reaction is involved in the idea that being “Both” is attractive. Interesting . . .
November 6th, 2012 Journal Entry 1 ct.
The sheer number of times I try to ascertain someone’s gender is amazing. It is constant. If I tried to tally it would be in the hundreds of thousands, as many times as I so much as glance at someone for even an instant. I remember talking to Katrina about social conditioning v. biology and how the first thing a human does when talking to someone is glance at the crotch of whoever they’re speaking with to discern gender and then process accordingly, and cisgenderedwomen get away with it more because they have wider periphery vision. Which is where the stereotype of cisgenderedmen talking to breasts comes from, something both genders do. But what an irrelevant distinction really. Because some women have penises, so what generalization san I possibly make that makes sense? We all have completely different fingerprints and desires and reactions to chemicals, how can me really say anything about the biological sexes is universal? Why try? Time and time again the distinction is in the culturing and in our minds or at least a real difference has never been proven to my knowledge. Is there a point to trying to categorize? We are all individuals, that’s the only claim we can safely make.
Journal 2 November 12th 2012
Goddamnit I am so exhausted right now. I procrastinated a day away and then I procrastinated the night away too, feeling “not ready” to work. I think I’ve began to use self-management [rearranging due dates due to (possible) depression to increase the likelihood it will get done] as its own excuse. Instead of finding new ways to rewire thought patterns that get me here. Now that I’m ‘diagnosed’ with depression, via filling in a worksheet, I’m not working as hard (also just about off the wagon with exercise and other things). It’s a constant fight against myself, the weaker mes have more experience than the others in this self-management arena, and ground has been lost, but it will be regained. I’ve finally done the dishes I’ve put off, later today I must clean my room and do more homework, but for now I right write.
There’s a sense of this community in gender that I didn’t realize I possessed. Once the plight of women was my plight. Attacks against women were an attack against me, and there persist amongst my favorite female-identified friends a camaraderie of our shared ideology and biology. Cunt love. A sisterhood if you will. A communal warmth I enjoyed that now I do not feel. I still enjoy those friends, but my idea of self has removed that aspect of comradery from my experience.
The pattern thus far seems to be a lack. In this shift of focus I have removed myself from the romantization of genders role in myself, my partners and my friend communities. I have for much of recent years, been of the believe that when it came down to it, there wasn’t much different from the cisgendered male and cisgendered female experience that isn’t culturally constructed. That underneath the conditioning, there wasn’t much different at all. I also very much believe that sexism is a double edged sword cuts equally, as every feminine stereotype has a masculine counterpart, and the punishments for being counter to that script are harsh for both genders. I have, I suppose, a totally gender equality bias, and under it, my sense of what it means to be female has atrophied slowly in meaning. I have for a long time identified as person first, woman second, [More, Person first, Pansexual/Bisexual/Kink, Woman third, actually is the more accurate thought of what I used to believe] and wanted as little as possible consideration of my “femaleness” in dealing with me. None, if possible. The assertion of genderlessness seems to therefore be a relatively easy one in some ways. It’s harder to accept in others, I make a judgment of someone’s sex and gender every time I see them. I can metabolize that I am incorrect easily, but the assumption is so instantaneous. Removing it does make me feel more removed from them. Once I quell the assumption I have an absence of feeling about the person. I should watch my language more, see how removing gender from my brain in every context but when it is specifically addressed gets me.
Journal 3
I was able, for a moment, to change my thought patterns, and I meditated on letting go of all my perception of visuals, their class, gender personality, or beauty. And thought of them instead as individuals with stories and thoughts and consciousnesses and then they were all beautiful. Every shape and size, every bone structure, every body shape, every weight, every age, every clique, class and style, All beautiful shades of humanity. I haven’t worn makeup since.
Clothing, makeup, and jewelry to me are not connected to my sense of or lack of femaleness. But they are tied to my identity and my sense of pride and self. Tied to the idea of a type of beauty, that my cheekbones, face symmetry and thinness make me superior that I have to fit a standard I almost match but never can. I want to see the beauty of humans more. I want to let go of body negativity and the idea that I have something to be, that I have to be perfect and beautiful and neither too strong or too weak.
I stood in the crowd and unlearned myself
Renounced a dream haze bequeathed to me
By my land’s image of She
The She on a pedestal of bones
The She starved, mirrored and painted
Slapped on every line of drivel
The schizophrenic She we see in lying faces
Beautiful how we adore her/ Ugly, for how we love to destroy those of her
Our god a sex unborn
I stood in the crowd and rid myself of Her legacy
I let go of every assumption
Of class, race, gender, personality of any group
I watched humans as consciences with their own dreams
As heartbeats with stories
Then, beauty I did see
In wide set eyes, aged lines, and frizz
I saw bodies as truly human and alive
I renounced the superiority of symmetry
Renounced the hatred of diversity
To love the “wide”, the “lumpy”, the “bumped”, the “decrepit”
I am free
It’s a gentle process replacing negative thought patterns with love. Love of bodies of all sizes. Love of myself. Love of humans instead of hate of perceptions and half-truths. I’ve taken on in the past, a project of learning non-judgment of intelligence, and religion. Now it’s gender and bodies. I feel so good. It feels like touching enlightenment—a real truth revealed with a simple change of frame. What a power perspective has. I can heal myself against the damage culture has given, what power. What joy. Perhaps I will never get it all right, but god is growing and learning so such a joy.
I’ve lost another bit of pride here. I’ve always had an eye on my vanity. I’m close enough to what this era calls beautiful; thin tall, symmetrical, white, high cheekbones etc. I’ve been told I’m beautiful hundreds of thousands of times in my life, and I believe it. On some small and awful, mean level I think those unlike me are not, or not as. I thought. I’ve judged. I’ve believed in this marketing scheme that makes everyone (myself included) think they are ugly and unlovable. (I may not believe the first but I surely fear the last). Some of this ideal was inherently renounced in no longer being connected to the “female” ideal in America, since I am no longer female but now it’s not mine at all, nor do I impose it on others. Where once I believed ‘everyone is beautiful to someone’ even when I couldn’t see it, I See now that everyone Is beauty.

Journal 4 November 19th 2012
I’ve talked to Sage [my sister] and Mom about all my recent revelations of late, about how I feel without body assumptions, as agendered and the losses of romantization. I’ve been talking people either about this agender experiment period (or to refer to me differently if I have told them) because my assumption was initially that this would be temporary. After all, I did identify as female, and I have to put some effort in feeling otherwise. Though I sort of feel like my truest self, might prefer this. Especially if this continues to inform such time body-love and human-love. I’m not sure I feel strongly enough to constantly battle to be treated as such. When the judgment/assumption words are reasserted upon me the old self re-asserts itself on my feelings. I don’t want to just forsake womanhood because of woman-shame (nothing wrong with choosing it after all). Though I think my current mentality is in many ways superior. Though, is this imposition on my feelings in the search of betterment not the definition of choosing objectivity at the expense of subjectivity?
My feelings matter. But in doing these thought patterns and connections, I have found there is more acceptance, more love, more beauty. I think my truest self can see all of those. It feels as though I’ve found a truer path in my heart. There is a zen comfort, it draws me into that same space in which I privately worship forests, lakes and stars of the world, wherein I stand in reverence of the universe. That place my therapist believes great strength comes from, being aware of and in reverence of now. More of that suits me.
Journal 5 November 20th 2012
I’ve run across more interesting questions. In the past I’ve decided to describe myself as or with the words slut, whore, cunt, bitch. Though I also like to describe people with opposite words (women dicks/pricks men as cunts or sluts or whatever). I’ve always been surprised at the people who are upset with me as such. I felt they were mine to take. Does this logic hold if I identify as agendered? Or perhaps when all this is over when this is all over I will simply prefer gender queer as its own identity. That feels completely right, genderqueer, kinda female, leaning genderless.
I am not a woman. That not a matra I type to meditate on the meanings made evident but by the lack. The picture of what it is supposed to mean. Is not mine. I denounce it. Those words are mine the same way they are everyone’s, and I choose to imbibe them with a positive meaning.
The sex positive definition of a slut is “ a person who lives by the radical position that sex is fun and pleasure is good for you”. A cunt is a slang for a genital I possess. A bitch is a strong willed blunt person. A whore is a slut, or a sex worker, both totally legit levels of humandome for any sex.
I am a person a person with a vulva, I’m an artist, an ethical slut a polyamorist, a nudist, a BDSM practitioner, a writer, a poet, a lover, a tea-drinker, a feminine-presenting, student. But I am no ta woman today. That’s starting to feel good. That’s starting to feel right.
I used to draw on my face because I thought I was beautiful, so I might as well just play with color in cool ways. Now I feel like I’m lame without it, the standard I’ve built up of something that I created that instantly identifies me, myself as an artsy person, and that I’m abnormal in a way people appreciate. I feel like I can wear anything with the makeup on, because it still represents me, and it paired with the clothing show two facets. If I’m just wearing jeans and some top, I’ll look like I’m not the choolness I’ve developed. I’m afraid of that. Funny, how much is riding on appearance. But I really do want to step away from that . . . funny that the lack of makeup is actually the most uncomfortable side of this. This change I find undesirable, though the discomfort around face-nudity is not desirable either. So funny, I want nudity legalized, and not weird, but I can’t be bare-faced. I need to regain the comfort. I think I’ll forgo makeup save for special occasions for a while. . .or . . .no. I think, I’ll forgo it entirely for a few months. Starting tomorrow. I’ll dress for Gender Fluidity week, and maybe use some for parties and cross dressing and leave it at that. I don’t think, now that I think about it, I felt comfortable without goth-y clothes on if I didn’t have makeup, even when I thought I was pretty. Hmm. Appearances are more important to my confidence than I thought.
Journal 6 November 25th 2012
Thanksgiving was a lovely affair at a family friend of my Wyatt-Stone’s. It’s been really wonderful having Marin, Robin and Kevin back in town. I keep wanting to text Sam but thinking better of it. I feel this should be noted, if not discussed.
I forget why, but after we dropped Ross after Zack’s (formally Alex’s) I somehow got started on finally talking about my gender experiment. As with everyone else I was reluctant to impose my agendered agenda on the relationships that so predate this experiment by years. I feel like I owe it to them to be normal, I guess . . . well, there’s a strain involved, I know that. I’ve been dealing with being too loud/ queer/ gross/ smart/geeky /introverted /art-focused or whatever most of my life, and that has consequences. I’ve never have had a choice but to be abnormal before, choosing another thing for my loved ones, my beloved to deal with . . .is scary. Besides that, my primary, Robin, is a heterosexual male, what if he feels like it his sexuality, love, identity is dishonored? Robin is one of the people I was most concerned for, what does it mean, for a heterosexual cisgendered male when his beloved of a year plus, (who he is considering moving in with no less) stops being female? He has always been attracted to some androgyny, and he’s a supportive man and he loves me, but I don’t want him to feel invalidated. . . . He is an amazing person, and he doesn’t believe that, I don’t want to contribute to that belief, ever.
Yet my anxieties were apparently in vain, it was barely a few hours before he commented on, paraphrasing here “how less feminine and aggressive I’ve seen” in the light of it being actually quite attractive. I was surprised, I didn’t think I’d been acting differently, just perhaps finally finding a good level of give and take in conversation flow. Yet at his comment I became even more of the feeling of partnership superceeding my usual feeling of being led, comfortable in feeling validated.
At one point he kissed me, and said, “I love you, and I will continue to love you, however you choose to identify.”
And if that is the case, beloved primary. . .what more objections can arise? You who inspire the best in me. You whose well-being affects my own.
Earlier, there had been some joke in which Marin and I joked that we were actually men, and Robin said something to the effect of “I sure hope not!” and I felt hurt, and later I said something about calling everyone gender neutral terms unless they were trans, in which case I used their chosen terms, and he was offended (presumably by the invalidation of cisgendered being an invalid identity, which it was not, just a strange bias I had uncovered, tried to find the reason for while floundering about in conversation, then discovered the reason was stupid bias thoughts ((we were tired)). I am certainly glad to know everything is okay.
I can do this agendered thing forever, if I want. Or perhaps some less black and white, I must be female or nay situation. Marin said it well in her suggestion thought for me, “Human first, Artist Second, Genderqueer third.”
I have been wondering if I’m giving up something that’s mine and feels more right for an ideal that isn’t necessary. But the worry is sated in remembering when I was little I wanted big boobs, black hair, pale skin, blue eyes and a pluthera of other traits that were beyond me, and not healthy besides. I had this impossible concept of a “better” self that made me feel inadequate. The difference is that here I’ve—
I’ve weeded out the sense of ugliness and inadequacy, of the need for a more ascetically pleasing self, but not the source. Without the roots taken out the plant grows back.
—created this concept of a desirable self so common (expected even, enforced actively rather than passive aggressively) I never even questioned it. An idea bequeathed to me by nature of my genitalia. Like any separation, the parts are not equal. Womanhood has granted many gifts, but also hardships, internalized sexism, body hate and other forms of internalized oppression that even constant assurance that I have the “right” body cannot shield me from. Body love I have learned with help and from myself, but I do feel I should be perfect, that every flaw must be ironed out and reflects poorly on me. Those warts on my character are unacceptable proof that I am a bad person, not just part of the fact that I am a person. I should be beautiful, smart and strong equally in all things. I should be neither too independent nor anti-social, neither show too much or too little emotion, to vain or too sloppy, et cetera et cetera.
I’m repeating myself aren’t I?
I wonder if I can do the rest of the book work now that I don’t use gendered pronouns. . .
I wonder if I do all the rest of my novels without gender pronouns if that means I’ll never get published ever
Every reintroduction of gender into my vocabulary breaks my zen unless they’re referring to trans people. (Possibly because I don’t want to forget their pronouns I don’t use them? Or perhaps because they already break all my gender assumptions.)
I feel like I offended Robin trying to justify that bias to myself. He’s right, I should remember cisgendered, transgendered, and agendered pronouns. It’s just the default that should be neutral. Plus perhaps sort of generally using neutral ones perhaps, overall. I talked at him some, but I should really actually apologize for that and have a conversation about it. Both times we attempted it was 4am ish, we were both tired as hell, and I was dumping a lot on him in my anti-binary splosion.
I reiterated to Marin some more about my total gender equality bias. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in Hollistic Science that I wholeheartedly believe it’s that the parts do not sum up the whole, ever, and it’s particularly silly to try with humans since we’re all aware of so much of the higher functions of humans.
Woman is a concept we define. Man is a concept we define. Not a fact we discovered over time but something of our own creation.
That is the bias I have to work with. I realize I have to look at both concepts, though. Biological, Ideological, Sociological. I still have a lot of studying to do on this . . . I’m still going so much by feel.

Journal 6 November 26th 2012

Bleugh. Bleugh. Bleugh. That reality. ‘I’m not a woman’ is all well and good until I remember ‘men will rape me anyway’. I have chosen not to accept this because they’re poison thoughts to my fuzzy, mind based world. I want to live on hope, philosophy and art, but I am not interfacing with life enough. That last is the cause of many of my problems, not keeping up with my friends—
Intermission to freak out at Collin
And therefore gain both comfort and energy from humans
This is good I should continue to do this
—not keeping up with schoolwork, not keeping up with my body et cetera, are all that desire to pursue inner worlds at the sacrifice of all else

Maybe the fact that agendered thoughts put me more in touch with how my body feels at any given moment is another good thing to incorporate into my life. Perhaps yet another reason that this suits me.

I’ve always thought that I’m discovering my true self, when I fundamentally change, but I’m really creating it since that realization (thank you interweb geeks of amazing vlogbrothers and Zefrank) I’ve continued to function as though it was discovery anyway. But I’m not discovering, I have no gender, I’m suspending it and seeing what happens. Now I’m weighing whether to trudge on eternally, or to let all the weight of my previous identity snap back. Or perhaps, to simply accept both manifestations of agendered self, and female self as valid Rains. I’ve been told that psychologically, we have many selves, I know this, I know there’s the Rain that wants to express, express, express and the Rain that wants to avoid pain and embarrassment. I’ve just always thought of Expressive Rain as the True Self, the self by which all other manifestations are judged based on how well they represent her. Her. Maybe some of my selves are shes and some aren’t. Huh. November 28th 2012
Every time I allow terminology of the male v. female variety to reappear then my previous self reappears, as my agendered nature is entirely a mind game currently, when people treat me like I am cisgendered, so I once again become. It was always just a concept.

The female pride of Cunt makes me feel like I might lose something of myself in full excommunication. Collin told me there are three identities. Biological Sex, Neurological sex and gender identity, and they don’t all have to match up (in fact that it’s nearly impossible for them to all be the same level of identification). Biological Sex being what your body says you are. Neurological being what your brain says you are and Gender Identity being what you choose to identify as. Currently. I am female sex, female neurological and agendered in identity. Though I have at times in my life, felt differently. I wanted very much to be an awesome woman person when I was little, up until at around 5th grade when people treated me differently for being female. I still wanted the titts and I love being female bodied, but I have wanted it considered less and less over the years. I wanted to be treated equally to males but be female. Now I have renounced it.
I keep mentioning that it doesn’t have to be one or the other, X, Y & 0 aren’t my only choices, gender is fluid. I couldn’t accept that while believing I’m “discovering my truth” every time I change. True, consistent gender fluidity violated my belief in my linear narrative. I am constantly creating and destroying to recreate myself; as with my other creations, I create, and recreate around the same central themes, building off of one vision, become satisfied for a time, then learn more, and must start evolving more actively again. Only ever stagnant for a short period of time. But I’ve been a lot of things. I’ve been wanabe woman, womanshame, want-to-be-manish-woman, woman-pride, woman-manish-pride, woman-neutral, and now not woman. My identity is fluid. Up until this point most of my changes have been improvements on my mind (gender aside) as they’ve come with increased maturity, growing up et cetera. This is a resistance, purposefully, of what I’ve been evolving as for most of my life. I think I’m having a net gain, though. People are constantly misperceiving me and assuming as it is, as I am female biologically speaking. I don’t like that, I like female bodied better. “Female biologically” makes me feel like it’s more legit or something, but my brain and feelings are biological too. My body is me.
Anyway, people will misperceive me whether I identify as female or not, regardless of how I present, I as with all humans, am more than my surface. So perhaps the knowing the vast majority of people will still categorize me as female is irrelephant. They already put me in all those incorrect other boxes with pink and passiveness and asexual behavior. Having one more assumption about how I think that is also wrong doesn’t really add much to there billions of other assumptions.

Safety, safety is the question
I am a person, a human
I am an artist
Pansexual Sadomasochist
I am Gender Queer
That feels better, “gender queer” than agendered
Thank you Marin

I want to believe in a beautiful world teaming with awesome humans. But I have to protect myself. I still want to live how I want to live. I’ve been trying to avoid dumbassery but not change how I would live. Though Cunt may gave a point (i.e. definitely has a point) that I should invest in some more form of self defense. I don’t walk in allies alone, I let my mom know the time of my homecoming when it’s dark, and I walk tall and talk firm when I feel tried, and I don’t mention where I live.
Maybe I should act like I’ve been around Seattle forever? It’s kinda true. . .
Absolutely don’t encourage age disparity relationships maybe is No.

Wo/manifesto? (As suggested by Cunt)
Maybe is no
If I don’t actively want something sexual to happen or actively want to date/cuddle/etc I’ll say no, There’s no such things as rude, no is no.
No monogamous people who are partnered may flirt with me without the active knowledge of their partner verbally, physically, violently or otherwise.
-Once gets a warning
-Twice I tell their partner
*Joke flirting*
If goes beyond dirty jokes and into legit flirting or any form of touching it has transgressed
I will distance myself from people, touches and situations that make me uncomfortable, or people who I think will influence me poorly but I also think are cool.
Its self-protection
Be very firm with strangers who ask me out but don’t actively desire. Say No, and move away, without any excuses.
-When getting home in the dark, inform mom of progress
-Stand tall, talk loud, look like you know where you’re going, even if you don’t
-Travel in groups, when reasonable
-Don’t duck in allies while alone
Body Boundaries
My throat, hips, lips, butt, cunt, breasts etc. Are a privilege granted by me for joking, affection or sexual purposes
1st offense firm verbal warning
2nd with firm warning
3rd we are no longer on good terms. Possibly no longer friends.
-If a relative, we are no longer speaking, ever.
Journal 7 November 28th 2012
Response to Cunt, by Inga Musica
Women and men both create the binary. Patriarchy or no, those ideas are propagated by the faith of the separation. The belief in treating men and women differently. Women rape and beat and abuse. Lesbians get battered by other lesbians (support groups for abused lesbians are testament to this). Abuse in my life has had equal male and female participation. Our culture believes women are weak and asexual and only have sex to appease males. Sex is supposedly an act of violence against a woman. Men supposedly not only desire sex but unsateably so. Therefore “only men are abusers”. Therefore, any man who is raped or beaten cannot admit it, doubly so if it was by a woman.
Evil, aggression and abuse are things that come out of humans because we are imperfect animals. I don’t believe that a cunt rids you of these things. Violence is conditioned and rewarded in males in American society. Positive emotional outlets like communicating feelings or showing vulnerability are punished. We treat “males” and “females” differently, and as we have historically learned, separate is not equal. How then, do we expect humans who respect and believe in such a reality to respond if not with acts of violence, and subjugation against others and themselves? Inequality breeds strife.
I don’t believe that adding fire to the female side of this false dichotomy will help end victimizing us all.
I must accept that I don’t have evidence to support these thoughts, but I am an observer and consumer of this society, and my hypothotheories I feel are worthy based on what I have learned in other fields of life. Yet they are only things I feel or have logiked out. They are conjecture based on the fact that each time the scientific community does set out to study women and men, they discover that the disparities are self imposed. I believe in our less altruistic parts this will also be true.
Cunt, I cannot accept that our yes, male dominated world will be changed by continuing to add fervor to our separation. I have forgone woman-pride in favor of human pride, and I think, reversing the bias will not be nearly so effective as removing it from consideration.
I can identify with human pain, in all its shades. Woman, man, neither, both, other. (Gay, Straight, Lesbian, Bisexual, Pansexual, Asexual. Or of any ethnicity. Class, clique or culture.)
I can be woman in sex, neither in mind, feminine presenting.
Denouncing the concept that I am more connected to any type of human promotes in me love of all.
The males (and yes, less females) who run the entertainment industries and the female models both create the images that promote one implausibly perfect body style that make everyone feel shitty. Both male and female genders create subjection when they accept the “reality” of such a thing.
To be a woman/man/other is a different beast to everyone involved, a concept as unique as every finger print if we don’t try to standardize them.
For some, the label fits, and for some it’s too tight, not quite right, pinches, or looks funny, or just doesn’t feel right. For some it doesn’t fit at all.
It’s like expecting half of everyone to have the same shoe size, and the other half a different shoe size. Even if you get the average foot size for the shoes, and impose it without grouping, not everyone is going to be happy. Plus people grow. What if their feet get bigger? Or their style changes? Or if they just want to try on a different pair, just once, just to see?
I am a genderqueer, agender, and the point is not to be treated like I’m something I refuse to be. I will come out more regularly now. I will correct people. I am a person with a vulva,
1. Person
2. Artist (Writer/Poet/Actor/Sketcher)
3. Pansexual/Bisexual + Sub/Switch
4. Vulva Owner
Collin’s note about the difference between neurological sex and gender identity has solved a dispute in my brain. I love it, I should talk to him more because he is wonderful and helpful and I love him.
Gender Outlaw Tea, Queer Group: Talk about Identity and Freedom v. Safety as someone who is perceived as feminine.
I love that Robin has already started to romanticize my androgyny. Bless him. It makes me feel safe and validated.
He has so long been trying to cater to my softer side. But we both like partner-based relations too. I should verbally confirm this. Let him know my leadering skills are infants, but not nonexistent. Just still evolving still in need of a home.


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