My Pronoun is It

I’m not being sarcastic or mocking, bear with Me for a few minutes.

I’m loving this wave of ‘fuck you’ to the highest man there is, this god fella half the human population seems to think made everyone. “He gave me a penis but I reject that masculine identifier” and I enthusiastically welcome my trans-sisters and trans-brothers. I’m a wee foggy on what non-binary means and if gender-neutral means that some people don’t experience sexual lust. Certainly there are a great many aspects to physical existence and a vast list of elements to explore, other than sexual pleasure, I can get behind that. I’m not about to DO it, sex is perhaps the most fascinating thing in all of reality, wink wink, but I can accept that others don’t agree with that perspective and I enjoy fantasizing about the rich fulfilling lives of people who don’t care about sex.

Sex is messy by nature and generations of porn has made it so much worse; plus complicated, to put shit icing on a shit cake. Recently I read an article in which this guy was talking about porn symbolizing the end of the world—he said that female porn stars often take painkillers before a shoot and get reconstructive surgery afterwards. As in, they get fucked so hard their anal and/or vaginal canals get torn. So much of porn is about debasing, humiliating and abusing women which is very tragic on many different levels. As a species, we’ve allowed sacred masculine and sacred feminine to become so badly imbalanced that we are encouraging our sisters, daughters, mothers and wives to be brutalized for entertainment. On the other side, we’ve been encouraging our sons, brothers, dads and husbands to unleash their most violent and abusive urges—so much porn is barely consensual rape scenes.

Boys all over the country get to know porn before they get to know girls, and this has been the way of things for a decade at least. Some girls can keep the upper hand; often by locking into something the boys are forced to respect, which is unfortunately very rare. So many girls end up being molested and/or raped before 18 and have their first child before 20—no college education for them, they’ve got people to care for. Girls all over the world are conditioned to care for the {male} lives around them and getting raped at 15 is traumatic but also generally how life goes for the bodies with vaginas. It’s so tragic and honestly, I was relieved when the youth of our species began the next wave of challenging social norms.

Part of the reason I wasn’t successfully diagnosed with ADHD as a child, is because I was a girl and was constantly pressed upon to be quiet or docile. My inner self was on fire with anger, confusion, violent fury and maniacal laughter I was terrified to share—partly because I was afraid of being ‘bad’ which would send me to Hell for all of eternity.

I didn’t fully understand what ‘made’ me a girl—because we always had pets, I was familiar with a ‘gender check’ but wasn’t satisfied with that. Not that I think cats are inferior, but we do have very different life goals and I’d like to trail-blaze a successful empire, you’re telling me that I’m doomed to battle against the patriarchy for every inch of power because I have a vagina and tits? Of course I didn’t have tits back then, but I did have these thoughts at age 8 or so.

There had to be something more that ‘made’ me a girl, but I never really found it until I found him—he loves my tits and my girl parts, which helps me love myself.

Sexual identity and gender identity are different, though it’s taken me a while to fully process how. When we think in terms of self—our independent, solo avatar character—we identify with a vast variety of different things from vegan to republican to everything in between. Sexual identity is about who we lust after; gender identity is who we are, which is why the word pronouns has become so popular. Are you she or he? Or perhaps you rebel against the gender tags and prefer them/their?

I was a beautiful little girl as a child, curious and precocious and easily startled—most of the bad things that happened to me have faded from memory as they don’t serve my goals and I’ve recovered from almost all of the traumatic feelings. Adults aren’t perfect and even the most beautiful and trustworthy looking can be devious as mean-spirited demons. I was a beautiful little girl, so innocent and playful…and then damaged, like a broken toy. Or perhaps used up, like a bottle of shampoo; what is to be done with the body when the all the magic of innocence has dried up?

Lucky for me, I had a contract with an old friend and fled for my life at age 19. Nothing’s perfect, though, and while recovering from my early abuse I got to know my longstanding ADHD and that made things tricky. I cringe a little bit, remembering how people would talk about my behaviour; it could have all been very normal, I’ll never know because the only thing that sticks is how “her” sounded to my ears and felt in my heart. I ran a thought experiment a while back, ‘would it have been any different if they’d said ‘him’?’ but it was worthless because I’m not a man and they didn’t.

I’ve long been ‘that guy’ who takes things too far, and so I’ll do so again—I choose the pronoun it because when you boil things down to brass tacks, I identify with being a body. It wants success and friendship, it wants freedom to say whatever it believes in, it wants to share insight gathered and wisdom assembled during these long weird years of writing without a website... kisses