The act of the trans trade, and its ritualization, came readily to hand for me, but it’s a distant possibility for so many of us.
Some misguided fans believe they are owed information about artists’ sexual and gender identities. As a queer writer myself, this worries me.
I needed to fight my way out of the trance of thinness in order to find out what else was possible, in order to finally see myself.
In writing for TV, I’m committed to doing what I can to wave the Black-femme-boy flag. We deserve to be heroes.
Being a girl meant minimizing myself and my needs, but Miss Scarlet embodied glamour, power and possibility in an unapologetically femme package.
The show went a step further than other cartoons of the time: It showed young women intentionally building a life together.
Transition needn’t be a straight line.
I pinballed between circles of lesbians but settled nowhere. Gorgeous women were everywhere but always out of reach in San Francisco’s mesmerizing haze.
Before testosterone, few people ever saw me cry. Now tears come in hot floods, as though some tender, unlanguaged creature has surfaced inside me.
Madison Montgomery never stops performing. She is at once person and persona.
The land that was previously seen as harsh and brutal by colonial forces was actually a site of survival, new life, and renewal.
The years I suppressed my queerness are a loss that I'm exploring and grieving—if only through fiction.