Published on Argot Magazine! “How My Name Change Changed My Life.”

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I am so honored and humbled to be featured onto this incredible queer online lit mag.

They were absolutely wonderful to work with from beginning to end and I am really proud of this piece.  You can check it out here:

How My Name Change Changed My Life

Thank you again for reading me and I am really excited about some other things that will be coming up.  You’ll see them soon!

And as always, a quick plug for my newsletter.

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Two Knucklehead Trans Enemies

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INT. CLOTHES STORE – DAY

DAKOTA DEMING (16), a very stylish bully with a spit-curl and leather jacket, is buried in the discount section, slowly peeling through the brighter colored items.

ARTHUR MCDUFFIE (16), a heavily repressed teenager and also this small town’s local vigilante, passes through and sees Deming. Does a full body double take, stepping forward and backward, leaning dangerously far to take a gander at her.

Yes. Her.

Both Deming and Arthur, by the end of this film, will be using she/her pronouns.  You know how I know that?  Because I’m trans and I can clock a closeted transgirl from a mile away.

Arty smirks and reaches into her backpack, partially pulling out her Dark Claw uniform, an uninspired rehash of the Zoro ensemble.

ARTY
Have no fear —

Arty jumps into a clothes rack just as Deming turns to see the heroine.

The clothes ripple and part as Arty dives out, Dark Claw uniform still in hand, unknown to her. She strikes a pose as if she is in her hero garb, but is now clad in a stylish sleeveless dress and heels, curly mop of hair now behind her shoulders and elegantly styled. Make-up too!

ARTY (CONT’D)
Dark Claw’s here!

Deming blinks.

DEMING
What’s up with the dress, Arty? Continue reading

Chamomile in My Coffee

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What’s wrong with me?

He’s been Lucius for almost 40 years now. That uh — I don’t want to dead name him — but I’ll just say that the “girl” I grew up with is long gone now.

That airy, lovely long haired teenager that you’d never guess was abused, she — he — became this old guy you’d expect to see sitting quietly on a park bench.  But I —

Love him?

He doesn’t look like ‘her’ anymore, or even act like ‘her.’ And I know that person I became friends with was a facade. They must have been going through so pain I can’t even imagine. But no, I’ll say it.

I love him. I’m not gay or any of that teenage crap, I just — I love him? It’s not even the body, or that voice, it’s just — I hate this talk about sexuality. Gay, straight, bi, whatever — I’m not — I don’t —

— feel that way. About love personally, I guess.

What is a body? Like really, what is it?

Continue reading

English Assignment

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There should be a rule instated
That the moment a foot is out the door
It immediately becomes illegal
To assign homework

Before I became, well
Nightmare
Um don’t judge, I didn’t pick the name
The Old Guy did

I would do my homework
It was
Nice, yes, it was
Nice, calming really

A poem? He wants a poem
About our life
As if I have time to write one
As if I have a reality to share

Continue reading

Love Conquers All in Shape of Water

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Hey, gang!  Good news, good news! I got published on another website!  It’s a queer analysis for Shape of Water.

https://culturedvultures.com/love-conquers-shape-water/

It would mean a lot to me if you would give it a click and check it out.  Same Meatwad content, just at a different place.

Friendly reminder that you can subscribe to my newsletter here: https://tinyletter.com/unapologeticallymeatwad

Thanks again!

Drop the Binary: Trans Thoughts on the Women’s March

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While I would love to completely be on board with the Women’s March, I unfortunately cannot, because I am trans.

As an individual, living and breathing in this moment, I do not necessarily care how I personally fit into the branch of womanhood. I additionally do not feel envious of ciswomen who have vaginas, nor do I feel left out, as some like to describe us. I am proud of my body, and it makes me angry when someone asserts that my reservations about the March must come my obvious shame.

What I do care about is the regressive language of the Women’s March. And before a ciswoman comes in to shoot me down: Yes, I understand that reproductive rights are at risk, and yes, I understand that Pussy is the word behind the March because of what the President of the United States said when bragging about the sexual assault he has committed.

Women are not just Pussies and Uteruses: to define them as such is incredibly regressive to everyone.

Continue reading