Hello and welcome to my main blog! I'm Max and I use It/he pronouns! This is my funky little were-blog where I'll post about my canine experiences and reblog things I like!
What am I? -> Autistic, transmasc, werewolf, ravenpaw, house cat, coyote ♡
What do I like? -> Hiking, reading, internet history & deep dives ♡
Do I have another blog? -> Yes! & and an agere side blog! (plus a few unlisted ones)
Yes I'll give you show recs -> Lucifer (6 seasons), Call the Midwife (12 Seasons), Anne With An E (3 Seasons) ♡
I am thirteen years old, sitting in my grandmother's kitchen. The television is turned to some news channel, as it almost always is between runs of Soap Operas and The Big Bang Theory.
GAY MARRIAGE FEDERALLY LEGALIZED the headline reads, with a background shot of the front of the Supreme Court building. There are hoardes of people gathered out front, with rainbow flags waving high. The camera pans past two men locked in an amorous embrace, and joy is written across every line of their bodies.
I'm trying to keep my reactions neutral, but my grandmother shoots me a knowing look when she says 'Its about time, ya know. I mean come on- it's 2015!'
I am filled with hope. The world that I will go into is more fair and equal for people like me. Surely, it could only get better from here.
Time passes. Things change, fluctuate. I become more educated on things like queer history, I become more aware of what it took to win that victory. I become more aware that what we have could be taken from us at any time. I start to see the patterns. I start to hear the dog whistles. I start to understand that progress is not linear. I learn more and more. I start to notice parallels. I realize this may all be harder than I anticipated.
I see the writing on the wall years before anyone around me. I sound the alarms, but I am told to calm down. My entire highschool career is spent debating 'devils advocates' and avoiding reckless drivers in the parking lot with MAGA flags flying from back of the lifted pickups their parents bought them.
I am twenty-two years old, just a little less than a month shy of my 23rd birthday, standing alone at work. My phone is tuned to a Livestream of the 2025 inauguration and I am physically standing at least five feet away, outwardly cringing at every new word. I can listen or I can watch- I can't bring myself to do both.
I am waiting for him to say something about trans people- about me, about my wife, about my best friend and so many of the people I hold dear- praying that he won't but knowing that he will, that fear of us is part of what won him the seat and he isn't likely to let up now.
"It will be the policy of the United States that there are only two genders, male and female," he says.
I swear out loud and silently thank the universe that I'm the only one staffing the store right now. None of this is unexpected but all of it is still devastating. It still wounds that thirteen year old inside me who saw only progress on the horizon less than a decade ago.
I am still filled with hope, though now it is purposeful- it is resistance. It is a cultivated and hard-won 'fuck you' to keep hoping for a good world even as powerful men vow they won't let that happen. The world I have grown into is not fair or equal for most types of people, but we have no choice but to keep going from here.
