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Jun. 2nd, 2021 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrienmundiIt's day two of pride month and I'm already exhausted.
I am so envious of people who can fit within the parameters of existing definitions and proximity to the binaries that fuel them. I don't think I want the lives of binary trans people, of LGB people (cis or transbian), but fuck if I don't wish sometimes I had access to the social embrace of using the common terms, of finding a place within them that give me access to the acceptance of known categories and support from sincere friends and allies who have never had to learn the languages of the wilds and the darknesses away from the light and heat of settled territory.
I've had a friend recently come out as a trans woman, weeks after confiding in me that she was nonbinary and seeking only androgen blockers. She's larger than me in every way, and is already posting passing images that are both glorious and conventionally attractive and acceptable, and I am sick with envy while also being very happy for her. The bitter voice of disappointment in me wonders how long until she moves into a happier space and moves at least arm's reach from me as mot binary trans people I know/have known have done because the space I inhabit feels like a transitory space for those who move from, to.
I wonder sometimes if it's worth settling, worth trying to find a home within the categories that grant more acceptance. If only I were younger, cleverer, more beautiful, I tell myself, maybe I could make that work. I don't necessarily think that's true, but since I'm not sure, that keeps coming up as lost opportunities, measures in which I fall short and fail myself.
I don't know how to celebrate inclusion for those who find a home within it while at the same time acknowledging the pain and loss of continued loneliness and comparative lack. I keep trying to give up on the idea of finding the company of like minded individuals, but hope is persistent and annoying. Another pride in which I remain an outsider, felt even more acutely than the other eleven months of the year.
I am so envious of people who can fit within the parameters of existing definitions and proximity to the binaries that fuel them. I don't think I want the lives of binary trans people, of LGB people (cis or transbian), but fuck if I don't wish sometimes I had access to the social embrace of using the common terms, of finding a place within them that give me access to the acceptance of known categories and support from sincere friends and allies who have never had to learn the languages of the wilds and the darknesses away from the light and heat of settled territory.
I've had a friend recently come out as a trans woman, weeks after confiding in me that she was nonbinary and seeking only androgen blockers. She's larger than me in every way, and is already posting passing images that are both glorious and conventionally attractive and acceptable, and I am sick with envy while also being very happy for her. The bitter voice of disappointment in me wonders how long until she moves into a happier space and moves at least arm's reach from me as mot binary trans people I know/have known have done because the space I inhabit feels like a transitory space for those who move from, to.
I wonder sometimes if it's worth settling, worth trying to find a home within the categories that grant more acceptance. If only I were younger, cleverer, more beautiful, I tell myself, maybe I could make that work. I don't necessarily think that's true, but since I'm not sure, that keeps coming up as lost opportunities, measures in which I fall short and fail myself.
I don't know how to celebrate inclusion for those who find a home within it while at the same time acknowledging the pain and loss of continued loneliness and comparative lack. I keep trying to give up on the idea of finding the company of like minded individuals, but hope is persistent and annoying. Another pride in which I remain an outsider, felt even more acutely than the other eleven months of the year.
