I don't hold the same pride in being trans as others I know. I don't want to be trans and I don't want to be seen as trans. I struggle to celebrate trans visibility because I think that it's near impossible to be invisible. The transphobic rhetoric that is gaining popularity overseas and in Aotearoa is a big reason, but being the 'trans person' can feel like a job or duty. To educate, perform, and revolutionize the very definition of gender.

There are a plethora of nuances and personal feelings / experiences about transitioning and what that means to each individual. For me, I can't be fucked, and I hate that I can't be fucked to put the everyday effort in to be perceived by others in the light I envision myself. In my opinion you can spend the time and energy growing and developing the chameleon scales it takes to fit the frame of femininity that even cis women can struggle to be nudged into. Only for those scales to stab and twist if someone 'sees through'.

Or you can be the trans woman. Own it with jokes, carry the same voice, same clothing, same 'bro-vado' personality. Get misgendered, the they/them default, the "it's fine" reply when someone apologizes for the he/him assumption.

I like to hope that if I had met someone who was trans, seen them as an everyday person, not a fetish character punchline, that I may have considered my identity sooner.

I'd rather be described as the woman with___

Long hair with faded hair dye / glasses / in the cute outfit / the red bag / a fistful of garlic bread that she's committed to shoving in her mouth in one bite / cool tattoos / ADHD and the combined brain power of three birds.

Creative, flirtatious, forgetful, passionate, hilarious, competitive, forgetful are all adjectives among many many others which I prefer to be identified as before "trans".

I like feminine people with dicks. Just as much as I like feminine people without dicks. I try to reflect that attraction and validation or "hotness" within myself. I don't mind being a woman with a dick, or a unique lay. What I do mind is once again, that being the defining factor. I don't want my trans-ness to be the key reason why someone does or doesn't want me. I display my gender as 'female' on dating apps and social media. I don't outright say I'm trans in my bio. I want the same respect and lack thereof of any other woman. I like to give that little tidbit of who I am once someone has displayed interest in me, a connection and an attraction in who I am. It sucks when I'm accused of catfishing or holding a secret, or suddenly they have second guesses about going on a date. It just reduces the perception of me to my genitalia and seen for sex. I understand sexual compatibility is likely more important to others than it is to me, but it sucks, and it's just one of many things that make "trans woman" feel synonymous with "sub-par woman".

Other than the fetishization on the front hand and the transphobia on the back hand, I think that many of my self-image issues are very universal to all femmes. Forehead, chin, weight, nose, chest etc... are all physical qualities I dislike about my body, despite never having these insecurities about my body as a man. I try to stay set on getting through my second puberty. External validation is nice and I enjoy sharing the sexiest version of myself. But that image is being formed for the adoration, desire and affection of & for myself.

The poems below are from my manuscript 'CICADA'; a collection of poetry that explores my constant unpeeling and rediscovery that I experience in my personal transition perspective after attending a boys' high school.

I am not trans

I am not trans so there is no need to figure me out. I am not trans because I have the gentle voice of every other woman. I am not trans because you stare at my tits when I wear tight tops. I am not trans because you want to sleep with me. I am not trans because you can just tell. I am not trans because my chin is smooth. I am not trans because I know how a tampon works. I am not trans because you can just tell. I am not trans because I bleed. I have a vagina. I am not trans. I am not trans because I am a trans ally, I have a friend who is trans, and he is going to be a girl one day. I am not trans because I am happy. I am not trans because I have learned how to deal with unwanted attention from a young age. I am not trans because I know how to do makeup. I am not trans because I don’t have panic attacks in bra stores. I am not trans so there’s no need for me to talk about it. I am gay though. But that’s not important. I am not trans. That is important, however. I am trans because I made a typo. I am one hundred percent not trans. I am not trans because all the dick jokes that I make have no real basis and are simply ironic. I am not trans because I had my tits at fourteen. I am not trans because I had to spend my high school years setting boundaries. I am not trans because I am sending this email to give you a heads up that when I come into the classroom, I’m not trans so that may affect some children’s behaviour. I am not trans because I don’t want to be. I am not trans I just have a weirdly specific amount of first-person experience to understand what it’s like to be trans. So, I can write this book. I’m not trans though. Because, when you look at me for a second and a half too long, it’s because you want to fuck me, not because you’re trying to figure me out.

A letter to those who loved

               I have lost my loves

               they washed away

               downstream

               with my ecdysis 

               tied to the rocks

               i

To my friends that didn’t

kill me in high school:

Brotherhood is brutal.

I need to be woman.

Then, woman who is

comfortable being in

a space designed for men.

Until then, save a spot in

the game lobby for me.

I will revive soon enough.

               ii

I’m sorry I don’t call anymore Grandma,

despite Father’s persistent

reassurance and encouragement.

The rotting mind is brutal.

I can see that the world

is losing its grip on you,

and I can’t bring myself to twist

that grasp any further.

               iii

To the education system and employers:

I cannot be your martyr.

I am bred with the skills

of two teachers.

I would be better as a teacher,

or a pornstar or a corpse for that matter.

Instead I am the poet.

Please blame my uncle,

for coaxing me out of a teaching degree

after seeing how grey it made his sister go.

Maybe if they pay more,

I can withstand the summoned spotlight,

to be the lightning rod beacon.

After all, we know how

important it is for kids to see

a real trans person

in flesh and melancholy.

Maybe if they pay more,

I’ll be your trans jesus.

               iv

To the stage and the wasted decade:

I am no longer talent.

I am done with the role of

Boy.

Script will only have room for tranny.

Until I learn how to be my own woman,

I will never play the woman.

Things you need not care about when you meet someone.

I am a Scorpio

I drive an orange Ford Fiesta 2014

I was born and raised in Waikato

I had a burrito for lunch

I think red is my favourite colour, but like, I love the blend of orange and the pink on either sides of that colour spectrum too

I have blue eyes, well, grey I guess

I prefer coke over pepsi

I have rehearsed my next three panic attacks

I want to ride a crocodile, that’s my number one thing on my bucket list

I am a Gryffindor

I do not always leave my pizza crusts, nor do I ever always eat them

I could never move to Australia

I hate spiders and

I struggle in the heat, but that’s where crocodiles are

I am indecisive about mint ice cream

I don’t understand why billionaires exist

I mean I understand it but, like, why?

I don’t know why I haven’t seen a billionaire ride a crocodile

I think Jeff Bezos’s childhood fantasy was going to space so really in his own way he did ride a crocodile by flying himself to the moon or something

I think Elon Musk had a childhood fantasy of being popular and loved so he wanted to know what it was like to be cool, so he rode a crocodile by buying twitter

I can’t afford a therapist

I can afford a degree

I have a lot of student debt

I have no one to talk to about these thoughts

I get these thoughts a lot

I mean like a lot

I am telling you my head is infested by them

I got my mum to fund some psychologist appointments and this overpaid cunt is absolutely headfucked by me

I am gay

I like women

I like feminine appearing people

I bet you I can spit my drink into your mouth from here

I was my psychologist’s last client before he mysteriously quit his job

I can see the coincidence but I choose to call it correlation

I can count to one hundred

I am transgender

I have a colossal penis despite my feminine appearance and I want to get it chopped off wow wee yes I do that’s how surgery works and it’s so cool that we first talk about this when we introduce ourselves, please tell me about your mumbo jumbo throbby wobby cock do you wanna keep it? do you have a name for your big girthy meat dangler? can we please talk more about our fleshy penises?

I haven't met many people like you, and i'm just curious, would you stick your dick in a crocodile’s mouth?