During this period, I went to see a live storytelling show to distract me from my ongoing gender crisis. And yet, despite my efforts, this was the night my trans-egg was smashed to smithereens.
The host was a girl my age, with my same eye color and hair color and haircut. She even kind of talked like me, with a repressed Appalachian accent that leaked through on certain words, like ‘naked’. (“???—???nekkit.”)
She and I were also wearing the same outfit, despite being different genders. Cuffed jeans, nice boots, a Henley, leather bracelets, a green beanie. Your basic ‘small-town graphic designer’ ensemble.