queer tears, finding the words + tending to my body/soul

Words, 2020

I have struggled to find the words. The words to communicate what I feel I am on the inside

to those on the outside. The feeling is not tangible or static or stable. It is loose and swirly

and firey. Creating has helped me process and communicate when words have failed to

capture the complexity inside.

I used to think I was a woman. Not because I thought in my head with words ‘I am a woman’

but because I hadn’t questioned that I could be anything else. When I learnt about people

who are non-binary I didn’t think that was me, since I hadn’t heard the words inside me, ‘I am not a woman, I am non-binary’. My brain was not communicating with words to me, so I

didn’t think to pause to dig deeper.

At one point I started saying in passing conversations, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if when I’m

older I’ll be non-binary’. A while after those nonchalant conversations, I began feeling

detached to ‘woman’ and started questioning who I was. I became quiet. No flippant phrases or chilled conversations with friends. I turned inwards. It was and is scary and

uncomfortable. It was and is exciting and terrifying and exhilarating. Thinking and drawing

and crying and researching and hiding. It’s been exhausting. As soon as I started this

wordless dialogue with myself I felt lost. I wanted to go back to not questioning and live my

more simple and ‘acceptable’ life as a woman. But once I’d dug deep I couldn’t undig. I had entered a scary depth of unknown. As an open person, it felt disconnecting to be so unable to speak. Talking to others felt intimidating and unattainable without words. I longed for a community of people with similar experiences, where I wouldn’t have to explain myself. I was unsure how to find these people, particularly mid-pandemic.

All of a sudden I could hear and see pronouns and gender binaries everywhere. I felt

vulnerable and alone. I felt trapped by the sadness of being invisible and the fear of being

seen.

I didn’t and still don’t know how to visualise my future or what the implications could be of

coming out. The uncertainty makes me feel unsafe.

Hiding parts of my existence made me feel fragmented, like a cracked fragile glass ready to break. Gradually, the idea of breaking and reforming became more appealing than remaining fragmented indefinitely.

One day I began using jumbled words to talk to my therapist. I knew I didn’t have to answer

any unwanted questions. I knew I didn’t need to make sense right away. This helped a lot. I’d find myself in therapy starting many sentences unable to end them. All the words felt wrong and the idea of saying a word that misrepresented how I felt inside felt unbearably

uncomfortable. Sometimes all I could do was cry.

For all the words I have not been able to say, I have cried queer tears and made art.

Body, 2025

I love you so much for allowing that breaking and reforming for us. As scary as it was, it was

integral to you feeling truly alive.

I feel sure of my transness now, I feel at home in my non-binary essence, but I’ve been

grappling with how to tend to my body, to grow myself into alignment when my only certainty is my fluidity, my playful exploration and my flowing consciousness.

After you found the words for non-binary and you settled into them, you didn’t allow yourself

to analyse or inspect your relationship to your body. Having recovered from an eating

disorder in your younger years, you worked hard to achieve a kind positive dialogue in your

mind, reminding yourself not to judge your body, to love, respect and care for this vessel you found yourself in. This voice you raised has been a beautiful part of your soul and existence, it's helped shape who you are and how you care for yourself. It’s been a kind yet stubborn bodyguard, never programmed to accept body questioning or discomfort, so dysphoria has always been shut out. Questioning of my body in my transness lay as a not-to-be-prodded entity somewhere at the back of my mind but also in the pumping of my blood and the depth of my stomach, existing as quietly as it could, yet existing nonetheless.

Slowly, you started to feel the need and desire to gently challenge this voice. You persuade it that while it has served and cared for you so well, it would be supportive if it opened up to

allow gender thoughts to have a voice about your body. You began to usher the not-to-be-prodded entity into your consciousness, except you didn’t hear anything concrete

or guiding, just like the original gender thoughts, they were jumbled, unclear and piercingly

emotional.

While I don’t want this voice to block out my gender dysphoria, I do want it to challenge

Western conceptions of femininity, masculinity and androgyny that in their constricting nature work to uphold capitalist, colonial, patriarchal, white supremacist agendas. And still, I want it to also hold that I do exist in this society with these pervasive conceptions and how

confusing and messy that makes my trans body image. How I want to see more trans body

diversity. How maybe trial and error is the only way to explore and play and find out. To take

risks and grow from them in new directions that cannot be foreseen. To make art with my

body, each and every day.

My therapist, Remi and Lawrence hold me in these times, giving me space to explore as

softly as I can, letting me collapse in their presence when it feels too much. Lightness tiptoes in with gentle giggles and play around the absurdity of gender that we feel alongside the depth of our feelings. Gradually I feel safer to share with more people.

I have a strong emotional response to the feeling of being seen, because I’m learning I’ve

yearned for it for so long and when it comes it wraps me up in its warm glow and I melt in its

hold. I want to speed up the process of knowing what might help me feel more aligned and

seen, but I’m learning to let my soul guide me at its own pace, listening quietly to its nudges

and yearnings, caring for it and letting it feel seen and allowed in its beautiful intangible

complexity.

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I’m a non binary artist, I mostly share visual art but I’ve journalled/written a lot in my life as a way to self soothe and process. I want to start sharing more of my vulnerable messy words in the hope they might make others feel less alone, especially for trans people working out their relationship with their bodies.

Insta: @goodstrangevibes