quailfence: sparklemaia: Keep reading Description by @illiterate-words[ID: digitally drawn comic wit
quailfence: sparklemaia: Keep reading Description by @illiterate-words[ID: digitally drawn comic with narration and accompanying illustrations.“I started T recently.” The narrator—a person with light skin, short brown hair, and glasses—sits in an exam room with a doctor looking at a computer. The doctor says, “So you’ll draw up… 0.13? Does that sound right? That’s a very small dose.” The narrator says, “Haha yep!”“I’m taking it slow.” A hand holds a small vial, with a needle drawing it up.“I haven’t really told people.” The narrator sits in shadow, looking through a window to the outside. On the window are several rainbow paper snowflakes.“I’m hoping the changes are so gradual I won’t have to explain myself to anyone.” The narrator shrugs and says, “It’s like I want to look more like a guy but I’m not actually a guy? I know it doesn’t really make sense.”“For the past few years I’ve found myself returning again and again to a very niche type of transition story where transition is almost like a series of accidents, every new step a bit of a surprise.” A figure trips and falls down a staircase, pictured in a series of 4 poses, which are labeled: “oops got a binder”, “lol changed my name”, “oh no started T”, “haha got top surgery”.“Every new iteration of identity unexpectedly more honest than the last, a gradual unwinding, pulled along by uncertainty and curiosity.” A purple matryoshka doll sits with 3 top pieces removed, showing the 4th smallest doll inside.“It doesn’t really map onto the most common trans narratives.” A snail clings onto the unopened fiddlehead of a fern.“You know, the ‘this is who I’ve always been’ stories.” The narrator as a child wears a cape and stands next to another child who wears a tutu and high heels. The other child says, “I’m not a boy I’m a girl and I’m a princess.” The narrator replies, “ok”.“I’ve been scouring my memories of childhood for some definitive proof that might explain why I keep slipping further towards transition.” Illustrated photographs from the narrator’s childhood show her holding a fish and rod and smiling with another child. Then, the narrator looks at herself in the mirror, wearing a black binder and boxers, her hands covering her chest.The narrator sits looking at her phone. The screen shows a shopping page for a binder. Below, she is getting a haircut, and tells the barber, “Shorter.”“And now, this.” The narrator wears a binder and looks hard at the small vial she is holding. She says, “Okay little guy it’s time for gender roulette.”“The thing is… I didn’t think of myself as a boy, or wish I was a boy. I liked being a girl. I just hated girlyness.” The narrator as a child runs around, climbs a tree, and looks mischievously at the reader. She wears a purple t-shirt, blue shorts, and pink earrings.“I wanted access to both worlds.” The narrator wears a ponytail and girl scout vest and says, “Yeah, I’m a Girl Scout but I’m also a Boy Scout. *not actually true, I just got to sit in on my little brother’s scout meetings.” Later, she wears braids and pajamas, and holds up a Christmas stocking, saying, “Aww what?! All my cousins got pocket knives and I didn’t?! I’m the oldest!” Then, she reaches into the stocking and says, “OoooOoo! Glow in the dark nail polish!”“And I wanted some other, more amorphous option.” Back in the scene with the child wearing a tutu and high heels, the narrator opens her cape to reveal it is wing-shaped. She exclaims, “I’m a dragon!”“I stumbled my way through puberty, mostly downplaying femininity and occasionally, at the behest of my friends (and the more insidious hegemony of social norms), trying hard to embody it and feeling like a total fraud.” The narrator as a teenager slouches and looks down, wearing a kerchief around her long hair, an orange t-shirt with a dragon, cargo pants, and a sweatshirt around her waist. Later, she poses for a prom picture with a date whose face is redacted, and labeled, “my one and only attempt at dating in high school”. She wears a blue dress, no glasses, and a large forced smile, thinking, “This is fine, this is fun.”“When I was 22, I read a book in a Queer Studies class that radically shifted my framework for femininity.” The book is “Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity” by Julia Serano.“Perhaps my discomfort with (and sometimes outright hostility towards) femininity was actually just Internalized Misogyny.” These last two words are highlighted in pink and illustrated with the narrator saying “jazz hands!”“And with this fresh perspective, I gave femininity another shot.” The narrator looks at herself in the mirror wearing a pink shirt and floral skirt over black leggings. She makes finger guns and says, “Femininity is great, you can do this.” Then, she walks by two classmates who say, “Aww! I’ve never seen you in a skirt, cutie!” and “You look so pretty!” The narrator smiles and says, “thanks” while thinking, “Hahaha I would like to be flung directly into the sun” and “What’s wrong with you those are compliments.”“Femininity has never come naturally to me. It’s never felt automatically comfortable. Playful, sometimes.” The narrator wears punk clothing and strikes a playful pose. “Protective, sometimes.” The narrator wears a professional looking sweater and skirt, labeled “Girlboss mode” and “Wow! Powerful!!” “Desperate, sometimes.” The narrator wears a lace bra and underwear, looking down at her chest and thinking, “Is this what it takes to earn your affection?” “Insurance, often.” The narrator wears a dress and shoulder bag, thinking, “You can trust me to take good care of your children, I am a Woman TM”. “But never effortless.” The narrator sits in front of a laptop trying to follow a makeup tutorial that says, “This is a very simple smokey eye tutorial you just need these 8 products and the ability to not cry.” The narrator contorts her face trying to apply mascara and says, “Omg ow, what.”“It’s not like masculinity has been especially comfortable, either.” The narrator stands outside of a theater holding a stack of programs, wearing pants and a button-up shirt with a tie. A older woman next to her wears a skirt and a turtleneck, and says, “Sweetheart, that’s the men’s dress code. Women aren’t supposed to wear ties.” Below is a folded letter that reads in part, “Dear Center for the Performing Arts, This is my official resignation from volunteer…”“In some ways, I think I’ve always wanted to exist in some kind of liminal, interstitial space.” A figure faces away from the reader towards a wall with a rainbow, with puddles around their feet that reflect the rainbow.“These days, I don’t really feel an allegiance to any particular gender identity label. I don’t feel trans enough for trans (I am not a Man TM), I don’t feel cis enough for cis.” The narrator holds up their phone and says, “Cis women probably don’t spend this much time googling ‘top surgery for cis women,’ huh?”“Or nonbinary enough for nonbinary.” A sticker says “Hello my name is Maia (she/her)”. The narrator says, “Yup that’s good.”“But there’s this thing that happens. When I’m out in the world and I pass by someone who is existing in that in between space.” The narrator looks across the page with their mouth open and stars covering their eyes. “A spark of recognition.” Two figures hold flames in their hands as they acknowledge each other.“A feeling that I can’t quite articulate, something like the inverse of homesickness.” A small house sits alone with a fire inside it and smoke coming out the chimney.“I’m not bothered by people gendering me, whichever way that goes.” A person looking at a map says, “Just go ask that young man over there.” The narrator wears a hat, mask, scarf, and jacket, and thinks, “They got it wrong, I Love It.” Below, a person says, “Okay, ladies…” looking at a row of people wearing roller skates and helmets including the narrator, who says, “It’s me, I’m ladies, kinda.”“This transition I’m slowly sliding into isn’t for anybody else. It’s not about how other people perceive me. It’s for me.” The narrator faces away from the viewer and into the light.“I’ve wondered for so long what it would be like to transcend my body’s default gender settings. It doesn’t feel like an inevitability or destiny or becoming the person I was always meant to be.” A naked figure hovers at the center of a large flame.“It feels like creating the path as you walk it.” The narrator walks, holding a lantern, and footsteps glow in the path behind her.“It feels like being your own north star.” A faceless figure holds hands to its chest as a bright light shines through the fingers.“It feels like mine. Here’s how I see it. I’ve only got one shot at life on this spinning chunk of cosmic debris in a wild and unknowable universe that is perpetually expanding. I want to travel as far as I can from gender. I want to make a glorious mess in gender’s mud kitchen. I want to crack gender open like a dragon egg, marvel at its claws, stroke its jeweled scales, cradle its heart full of fire to my chest, unfurl its wings, see how it flies.” A dragon flies away from the viewer and into the dark sky, silhouetted by a full moon, as it breaths an arc of fire. End ID]@a-captions-blog -- source link