this is what waiting looks like
I’ve carved out a place for myself that is male; it’s true. To look at me, you might not see anything other than a white guy. A set of cues that say this person is male. But that is just an external place. A clothed place that makes my life safer. It is only a layer of my identity.
Perhaps the most radical thing I could do is take off my clothes and show my multigendered form. But that too is just a set of external cues that lead to some sort of gendered conclusion. And anyway, I’m not that kind of guy.
I could let people see photographs of my growing up and my transition. Let the “truth” in those photos tell the tale. But in photos, there is more information than one could ever make sense of. Too many facts. Too much revealing.
So I draw the lines, and give gendered hints. Recreate the photos in a way that they couldn’t be seen at the time. And let the grey areas expose the truth they’ve always held.