The taste of silence and salt heavy on my tongue.
The years I suppressed my queerness are a loss that I'm exploring and grieving—if only through fiction.
I cannot explain queerness any longer in ways that don’t involve ghosts.
When I look at my personal aesthetic (if I could call it that), I see something that gives me room to move through binaries.
There is something attractive about being the subject and the artist all at once; of being entirely in control of how I am seen, who sees me.
Estrogen and testosterone have historically been deployed to produce gender compliant citizens. What if, instead, they were agents of autonomy?
It’s about being able to say, oh, gender? It’s no big deal. I just threw this gender on today.
The Outsiders’ world was the one in which I wanted to belong.