In another piece I’ve yet to publish (soon I promise) I examine what it’s like to discovery, upon transition, that you can take nothing for granted about who you are anymore. There is a perpetual question mark over which parts were truly us and which parts were part of the act of being ‘him’ (or ‘her’ as the case may be).

It’s good to be open to the idea that anything might have changed with the permission transition grants us to be ourselves.

Good luck.

Capricious by name, steadfast by nature. Trans femme dyke. Smutsmith. Provocateur. Witch. Poet. Slut. Idiot. Kicking names and taking ass.