not your father's tampon

 

 

okay, so what do you think i am?

seriously, i suck at describing myself and i'm frequently asked to, so i would honestly be quite delighted if you emailed me right now and told me what i am. i like labels--i enjoy collecting them.

you don't need to worry too much about offending me by getting it wrong--i've got the two names, two genders, two wardrobes thing going on. and i appreciate you asking me my preference, but honestly the reason i answer readily to both is: whichever you pick, you're right. and whichever you pick, you're wrong.

i am transgendered. i am fetish. i am a saturday night butch. i am a flaming queen. i am one of those bisexuals--the kind that give the rest of you a bad name. bigendered, and polyamorous. a bisexual bisexed tranny slut. if i'd been labeled the other gender most people know about, the one they didn't pick when i was born, i'd still be transgendered. probably have gotten more harassment as a kid, too.

i don't want one set of genitals--i want two, to go with, or clash interestingly with, the rest of my paired identities. i want to switch back and forth. i'm a switchy swish, and i also want fur and a tail. tails are excellent. i want to be able to punctuate my comments with elegant tail gestures, and wave it in your face when i want to tease you, because you piss me off and make me horny.

does that help clarify things?

 

jetboy jetgirl

not your father's
tampon

talking about
gender with my
brilliant friend
hanna

my existence is
not a weapon
against those i
love

matthew,
brandon, tyra, me

sorry

hot pink, leopard
print, lame?

open letter to
anything that
moves magazine

pinnochio

bisexual bigendered performance art thing


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