Have not posted in my journal in a very long time, and a lot has happened along the way. I don’t want to harp on all the details, cause they feel like the distant past already, but in summary, queer-poly-authenticity does pay out, and it can also cash in. Call it energy, will power, not-giving-fucks, spoons, time, responsibility, stress, anxiety, or a vulnerability crash & burn, the lows can get lower, white at the same time the highs can plateau.
Sometimes the world feels hostile towards my femininity, and other times it feels like I took a battering-ram to a locked door hiding the best version of me from the world. This is a constant duality, of never knowing if public strangers appreciate my authenticity, or flat out hate looking at me.
I want to full-stop love my fashion-style and gender expression, and I sincerely do, but being half in and half out of a closet, is like the tiniest splinter buried into the flesh of my big toe, every step I take I feel it digging deeper and inflicting more pain. I’m micro-managing my presentation out of fear, afraid of what my in-laws will think, afraid of my children finding out that Dad is an, “other”, to the eyes of the world, and afraid of being blamed for their lives being harder for just that fact alone.
I’m not confused or second guessing my transition into visibillity, I know hiding is worse no matter the privileges I would gain back, because in-authenticity is not emotionally sustainable for anyone involved. The path less traveled may be the best choice, and it can still be covered in a thousand spider-webs.
I will circle this back to an interesting experience I had the other day. A friend of mine, who I met through the poly community, and has only known me as, “Femme - AF” Shawn, visited me at my home, and I did not look like my usual, “Femme - AF”, self. In fact, I had been doing yard work, was rocking a 5-oclock shadow of facial hair, boyish sweaty-dirty clothes, greasy shaggy hair and no make up at all. I felt terriblly insecure, and I brought attention to this fact right away, cause that is what I do, I hide in plain sight by neurotically describing how it feels in my head when I anxiety spiral. She put her arm around my shoulder, and with such a caring tone said something like, “Don’t worry about it, take a minute, get cleaned up and rock one of your cute skirts if you want to, Ill wait for you”. She read my mind, or just acutely listened to my anxiety ramblings, and most importantly supported me in this matter. She sees me, and that is the weirdest part about being trans visible, is the different between someone looking at you, and someone who truly sees you, can be a grand canyon sized gap at times.
I will see that friend tonight, and I will tell her how much that small gestured mattered to me.
