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It’s hard being an ally.

Over the past 10 years, despite all other misfortunes in my life, I am grateful for at least one fortunate circumstance: to be surrounded by a number of delightful friends, very nearly all of whom are trans.

Looking back, I can see how my cisnormative and heteronormative upbringing has eroded.

Gender roles are disintegrating around me, conveniently preparing themselves to be swept into the dustbin of history where they fucking belong.

Femininity and masculinity have shifted into being patterns of trait expression whose only importance come solely from individuals to whom they matter. I have seen the empty presuppositions of tradition for the hollow lies they have always been. The peer pressure of the dead no longer has power over me.

Could I perhaps be an egg…? Or maybe I am a seed, on the verge of sprouting into something that does not need a prescribed reproductive caste. It’s all so tiring. These squabbles of classification. BECOME UNDEFINABLE.

Me with my friend group of two genderfluid friends—one pan one ace—also a cis transmasc, and also a bi girl (I am a “straight” ally)