Tranny Queer — in the Beginning

The Artist D

To be different. To be not the same. The Universe has always been teaching me to be a freak. Most people have learned that all of the things people mocked you for as a child are the things that turn out to be talents in adulthood. What most people still don’t figure is that self discovery should continue throughout our lives. That is not just on the inside, but the outside too.

The freakish traits and talents of a child develop into genuine ability. Meanwhile the child outwardly morphs themselves into normalcy in order to obtain physical acceptance. We learn how to not be made “fun” of while honing our unique skills.  We often learn to love what we can do, but we rarely ever learn how to love who we are or what we look like. That’s where we all have fallen off the merry-go-round.

I have always loved words like Freak, Fag, Tranny, and Queer. They are me. They are powerful words and, likewise, can be dangerous. Much like a gun can save, it can also kill, and so can any powerful words. These words are empowering and deadly. When these words are used in loving friendship and with kindred respect it is like a supersonic love blast echoing through space.

The Universe taught me how to be a very different individual. Wait, a different individual? There’s some poetry. Being an individual should mean each of us is an individual, each of us with our different displays of individuality. And yet in this society you are an individual like everyone else or a very different and shunned individual. A freakish individual. An individual unlike the rest of the individuals. But how can you be an individual if you are just like everyone else? You can’t. But they’d like you to try.

I slowly learned to stand on my own and remain strong against the taunting people around me. These people used the powerful words against me. They called me what I was. I was a fag, a queer, a freak, I was a different individual. I was being vandalized for being exactly who I was. I knew there was nothing wrong with that. Yet I took those words and forced myself to feel bad about it all.

I have always been very logical. The first couple years of grade school I would respond to taunts of “Fag” with the question, “So?” I meant it and nobody could ever really answer me. They just stood there continuing to defame. I was a fag and it was bad because I was a fag because fags were bad, but nobody had any further argument to back it up. It is like when the dictionary uses the word you are looking up to define the actual word. I hate that.

So, I’m a Tranny Queer. So, I have red hair. So, I have a nose on my face. So, the sky is blue. So? I am who I am and who else could I be? And anyone who has ever told me to be something else usually couldn’t come up with anything better. The other options were always far less fabulous.

To be continued …

Tags: adventure, featured, outlaw, theartistd, Transgender, words

Category: Transgender Body & Soul, Transgender Opinion